#this took me two weeks to edit good grief

[piscespetals]

summary: you & sevika work in an office, and developing a silly schoolgirl crush is the last thing you expected to happen at this point in your career...

word count: i stopped counting 3/4 of the way through once I reached 16k so this is pretty hefty!

content: pinning (of course), fluff, gay disaster, the tiniest sliver of smut

thanks for reading!

Kinda in my feelings about what it would be like to work in the same office as Sevika...

╰➤ I feel like you see her in passing a lot, since her office is only a few doors down from yours.

╰➤ The both of you often strike up casual conversations in the break room, filling the silence while awkwardly waiting for your food to heat up in the microwave.

╰➤ You always notice when she walks into the same room as you because she's constantly dressed to the nines—slacks hugging her thick thighs just right; form fitting and sleek. They shape the curved muscles of her calves as if the manufacturers make the material just for her.

╰➤ You also notice that she has a knack for neutral colors, especially with her dress shirts. She likes the top buttons to be undone, sleeves rolled up to her elbows and collar perfectly crisp. The air that swarms her is usually woodsy with a hint of spice.

╰➤ She's magical.

╰➤ And because of that, you aren't surprised at the buzz about her in the workplace. She's one of the new hires so it's natural for her to stir up curiosity. But beyond that, there's no doubt that she's quite the enigma. You've even heard a few colleagues gossip about how much they want her.

╰➤ The first time you interact with her is when you're waiting for the microwave to finish warming up your lasagna.

╰➤ Her dress shoes click softly against the tile floor as she enters the break room, causing you to glance over your shoulder. Your eyes widen when her gaze flickers from the microwave to you.

╰➤ "Hi," You mumble pathetically. Your stomach churns and your toes curl and all of a sudden, it's like you're a shy prepubescent person all over again.

╰➤ She smells good.

╰➤ "Hey," Her voice is deep and warm. It rings straight through you before settling at the pit of your stomach.

╰➤ "Uh," You swallow, shifting your weight. "I'm almost done. Then you can use it."

╰➤ She doesn't say anything else.

╰➤ Her lack of silence sparks a wave of nerves. Next thing you know, you're gesturing towards the microwave wordlessly.

╰➤ She follows the motion, eyebrows quirking up with interest.

╰➤ "I'm having lasagna for lunch," You announce. "This is my third time having to warm it up. I forgot how stubborn pasta can be in a microwave." Then you're patting the top of the rectangular miniature oven.

╰➤ You almost allow yourself to think that her expression has morphed into amusement. But before you get carried away with your thoughts, a loud ding! sounds.

╰➤ Quickly, you open the microwave door, carefully reaching for your steaming tupperware container so that you don't burn yourself.

╰➤ "Well, it's all yours!" You don't have the courage to meet her gaze anymore, finding more interest in the carpet as you leave the room and make a beeline straight to your office.

╰➤ Interactions after that are somewhat similar. Sometimes, she asks, "How've you been?" If the wait to use the microwave is longer than usual.

╰➤ The conversations are more surface level than anything—a routine song and dance to fill up silence for the sake of politeness.

╰➤ They're strings of, "The weathers been nice lately" and, "What are you eating today?" and, "How's the workload been for you?"

╰➤ Then you both are scurrying off to your own little sanctuaries, not planning to see each other until the next business day.

╰➤ There's another time when you're late to going on break. You usually like to be one of the first ones to clock out and heat up your food. There's only one working microwave because your boss is too cheap to replace the second one (that has been broken for several months now), which causes a long line to form for those wanting to warm up their home lunches.

╰➤ Unfortunately, today is the day where you have to join the majority and step in line. Due to a phone call that lasted longer than you expected, you don't end up going to lunch until 15 minutes later than you usually do.

╰➤ You're softly rocking on your heels when Sevika comes into view. She rounds the corner of the office, stalking towards the line with taut muscles and a grinding jaw. An air of annoyance lingers around her, eyes unfocused and seemingly far away, hands—

╰➤ "Are you gonna step forward?" Shane, a co-coworker, asks. He appears disgruntled, pointing at the gap of space in front of you.

╰➤ That seems to gain Sevika's attention. She peers at Shane shortly before dragging her piercing stare towards you.

╰➤ Shane huffs at your silence.

╰➤ "Oh, right!" You breathe, breaking away from Sevika's regard. "Uh, sorry."

╰➤ Taking a few steps forward, you close the distance, doing your best to ignore Shane's rant about "dillydallying workers."

╰➤ A few moments pass before that familiar image of Sevika's grey eyes resurface in your brain. Glancing back towards her, you find her scuffing the heel of her dress boots against the carpet, attention set on no particular thing. She jumps between the carpet, to the gossiping co-workers nearby, to the flickering ceiling lights.

╰➤ Just when you're about to turn back around, she glances towards you. Your gut pulls, ears rushing with adrenaline and veins buzzing.

╰➤ Then, she mouths, "Hi," and you almost combust right then. Gone is the frustrated expression that was adorning her features moments before. Instead, a ghost of a smile plays on her lips.

╰➤ You blink a few times; stunned.

╰➤ You think you wave back at her, but you can't seem to be entirely in touch with whatever your body is doing.

╰➤ "Um, hey." You reply, clearing your throat.

╰➤ It's loud enough for her to hear. But it also may have been too loud. A few other people surrounding you look over in confusion.

╰➤ "Were you talking to me?" Brian, a colleague who's standing right in front of Sevika, asks.

╰➤ You bite the inside of your cheek. "Oh—uh, no. Sorry."

╰➤ Brian looks around, not so subtly, probably trying to find out who the hell your greeting was directed to.

╰➤ Sevika laughs at the interaction. It's the kind of laugh where she presses her lips together, shoulders shaking and eyes dancing with humor. She's trying to be polite—trying to contain her laughter—but she's not doing a very good job.

╰➤ The sight causes you to shuffle your feet in embarrassment, blowing a raspberry.

╰➤ "Look, I've only got twenty minutes of my lunch break left so if you aren't gonna pay attention..." Shane admonishes, voice thin. He's gesturing to the growing gap in front of you again, clearly fed up with your lack of wherewithal.

╰➤ You bite the inside of your cheek, choosing to ignore the way that Sevika seems to be laughing harder now. Fighting off a giggle of your own becomes difficult.

╰➤ "Okay." You reply. Then you face forward, catching up with the rest of the line. "Sorry."

╰➤ The next time you see Sevika, it's when you run into her before a staff meeting.

╰➤ Literally.

╰➤ You aren't paying attention, too busy with shuffling through your purse for a granola bar, eyes downcast and head hung low, when you walk straight into her.

╰➤ Her body is firm, your forehead knocking against the rounded muscle of her shoulder. Your breath catches, eyes widening as you try to glance up, struggling to regain your bearings.

╰➤ Strong hands grab onto your upper arms. The feeling of thumbs pressing into your skin jolts you awake from the daze you've been experiencing all day. And like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel yourself hovering closer—drunk off of the delicious air that surrounds you.

╰➤ Sevika's air.

╰➤ "Oh," You huff, blinking up at her with wide eyes. In the back of your brain, you register the feeling of her large hands encircling your biceps. It's a feeling you welcome. But it becomes faint when you realize the reality of the situation. "I'm so sorry," You spit out, remorse crashing into you. "Fuck—I mean...frick." A startled laugh escapes you. "Frick because fuck is totally not work appropriate...obviously."

╰➤ You swallow thickly. Your legs tremble, an undeniable pressure sprouting in your gut under the feeling of Sevika's pressing gaze. Her stormy grey eyes examine you with interest. It leaves your mind clouded over with impure thoughts—unprofessional thoughts.

╰➤ "I wasn't looking." You add.

╰➤ "Clearly." Sevika's sporting a shit eating grin. Her hands squeeze your biceps. "You good?"

╰➤ "I'm good. Just—" You clear your throat. "Well, I was actually looking for a granola bar. I forgot to take a lunch break because I'm drowning in paperwork. And then Cam announced the meeting at the last minute so I thought I could get a quick bite on the way. Except I'm pretty sure I've somehow lost my granola bar which is just my luck. And-"

╰➤ Sevika's eyebrows are raised so high that they almost meet her hairline. "I see," She mutters, sounding impassive.

╰➤ Fuck.

╰➤ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

╰➤ Maybe you're talking a bit too much—a habit you've been trying to break lately—but it's only because Sevika makes you nervous.

╰➤ It goes beyond her demeanor that screams, "I don't like people so respectfully, leave me the fuck alone."

╰➤ Sevika is your work crush. She's gorgeous and good at meeting the weekly stats, and smells good.

╰➤ Despite the office rumors of her unapproachability and death glares, she's not entirely awful in your presence. She's pretty cordial with you in fact. Which means, she doesn't dislike you as much as she probably does the others.

╰➤ After all, she always lets you use the microwave before her. And she doesn't make you feel completely useless when you tell her a cringey joke, or make an embarrassing attempt to strike up conversation.

╰➤ But now, you've opened your mouth.

╰➤ You've opened your fucking mouth and have probably turned her off before she could even get a chance to truly know you.

╰➤ You've fumbled.

╰➤ The realization embarrasses you.

╰➤ "Yeah," You respond. The both of you fall silent and you imagine a static screen being displayed on a person's TV somewhere in the world. That's the perfect personification of this moment, you think.

╰➤ Sevika hums, letting her hands fall back to her sides. Then she's stepping back, slightly faltering and looking down at the space between you both. You follow her gaze, eyes widening at the sight of fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. Your fingers.

╰➤ "Oh! Sorry," You repeat. You tug your hands away, breath catching in your throat. "This is—" Your lips pinch together.

╰➤ God, this is embarrassing.

╰➤ Clearly scandalized, you tread a few paces backward.

╰➤ "Um, actually, I should go pee! I haven't had a chance yet, w-with the workflow and all. Especially now that the staff meeting starts soon," Your thumb juts in a general direction of the restroom behind you. "Gotta hate those bladder infections, am I right?" Pathetically, you force out a laugh.

╰➤ Humor trickles onto Sevika's features. Her lip twitches. "Right..."

╰➤ "Not that I have a bladder infection right now! I'm preventing one by going to the bathroom. My bladder is perfectly fine." One of the straps of your purse falls off your shoulder. You readjust it. "...Not that you care, or like, anything."

╰➤ A pause bleeds into the atmosphere. Slight chatter travels from a few offices down. People emerge from their desk, hastily making their way to the conference room behind Sevika. You struggle to ignore the sound of tapping keyboards and squeaking chairs. The lull is excruciating.

╰➤ "Okay, well–" You force a cough. "I'll go now. Catch you later, Sevika." You almost allow yourself to believe that her eyes widen when you say her name.

╰➤ But then you're turning on your heels and scurrying away, discarding the ridiculous notion.

╰➤ It's the next day when you run into her again. There you are, standing in front of the microwave, when you hear chuckling. It's easy for you to know it's hers. You find yourself savoring the sound every time it leaves her lips.

╰➤ A smile stretches across your face, and you peer over your shoulder, eyes landing on her for the first time that day. Sevika's wearing a white long-sleeve undershirt, partially covered with a black sweater vest and beige slacks. She has her hair styled in a half-up, half down. She's fiddling with a gold plated watch on her wrist, expression smug and eyes regarding the person beside her.

╰➤ The microwave beeps; a sign that it's time for you to retrieve your lunch and head back to your office. But your eyes can't help but linger on the stranger beside Sevika.

╰➤ Well, they're not really a stranger. Their name is Kai. You don't know Kai personally. You just know of them. They work in the warehouse, so you only see them during the times that all departments are required to attend the staff meetings.

╰➤ Occasionally, you may see Kai if they visit one of their friends that work on the same floor as you. They have chestnut brown eyes and a badass sleeve that covers their entire right arm. But besides that, they’re a complete stranger.

╰➤ "Smells good," Kai announces, turning to you. There's a glint in their eyes as they gaze at you, and that makes you feel exposed for some reason. You can't understand why or even how.

╰➤ Then, your attention diverts to the way that Kai’s fingers dance along the cuff of Sevika's sleeve. They trail up the material, alongside Sevika's forearm, before pulling away. It's the smallest gesture—something a general onlooker wouldn't notice without staring incredibly hard—but you noticed. You wish you hadn't.

╰➤ "Thanks," You mumble.

╰➤ You turn around, swallow, blink, and open the microwave door. You ignore the burning of the tupperware container against your skin, trying to shut out the pounding of your heart.

╰➤ "Hey," Sevika greets, the quietest she ever has.

╰➤ It's harder for you to meet her eyes in that moment. You're distracted by Kai’s swaying, and how it's perfectly on beat with the music that echoes through the office speakers; how they’re majestically relaxed in a way that you never can be.

╰➤ You don't understand why such strong feelings surge through you; feelings of envy and doom and a hint of jealousy. It doesn't make sense. It isn't logical. But it's there. It's annoyingly there.

╰➤ "You're the one who just got promoted to be Cam's assistant, right?" Kai asks. You stop in your tracks, halfway between the microwave and them. A wave of shock washes over you. You never thought they ever noticed you.

╰➤ "Um, yeah. It's not really a promotion, though..."

╰➤ "No?" Kai glances at Sevika out of the corner of their eye. "Vika said so. She's mentioned it a few times, actually."

╰➤ That's when you find the courage to glance over to Sevika. Her cloudy grey eyes observe the floor, jaw grinding and hands shoved into her pockets. Sevika knows your job title?

╰➤ It feels ridiculous to be excited over such a revelation. After all, you and Sevika work in the same fucking building. How can she not know what you do?

╰➤ But there are countless coworkers in surrounding cubicles who never catch your attention; people you've never talked to. People who would never know that your office resided within walking distance from them. And the notion is the same for you when you find yourself surrounded by unfamiliar faces on days you stray too far from your office.

╰➤ But Sevika knows. She pays attention. Whether that's a good or bad thing, you allow your heart to savor the thought.

╰➤ "Oh," You mumble, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, the thought of Kai’s close proximity to Sevika doesn't seem so bad.

╰➤ "Well, anyways, there's a clerk position opening up and I may have interest in it. Kinda wanna be a corporate person now, you know?" Kai grins, laughing lightly. You smile in return. "If I land the job, maybe you can help me get adjusted to office life? Show me the ropes a little. Vika says you're the best one on the sales team."

╰➤ Vika says you're the best one on the sales team.

╰➤ Vika says you're the best.

╰➤ Sevika's head lifts, rolling her eyes as she nudges Kai with her elbow. Kai yelps then coughs seconds after. 

╰➤ "I just do what's in my job description." You bashfully admit.

╰➤ Kai’s grin widens. “Right…” Their words are slow and heavy with an unspoken implication.

╰➤ Their gaze shifts to Sevika, then you, then Sevika, and back to you again. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and you find yourself feeling self conscious; it feels like they know something about you that you don't want them to.

╰➤ “I’m just gonna squeeze by really quick,” Kai announces.

╰➤ You side step, allowing them to head towards the vending machines. You make the mistake of not being spatially aware, moving over a bit too far and knocking into the table positioned to your right. 

╰➤ "You okay?"

╰➤ Your eyebrows furrow at Sevika's question—at her concern. The way her gaze flickers between you and the table has your stomach tugging. Your fingers tighten around your tupperware container.

╰➤ "Just clumsy," You explain, nodding at her. "Which you probably already, uh, know."

╰➤ Your memory travels back to the day before, and how you ran right into her.

╰➤ You're not sure you'll ever be able to forget something so embarrassing.

╰➤ Sevika smiles and you realize that it's the most genuine thing you've seen all day. "Oh," She says knowingly. "I do."

╰➤ She's teasing you but you don't mind it. You couldn't even if you tried because you're too caught up in how breathtakingly handsome she is. The intricate details of Sevika's smile always has a powerful effect on you.

╰➤ She has the tiniest dimples in her chin, puffy dark lips gorgeously contrasting to the whites of her teeth. And her gap—goodness, that gap has you wanting to curl up into a ball and melt away. It's placed right between her two front teeth.

╰➤ You hold your tupperware container tighter against the lower pouch of your belly, feet rocking forwards and backwards, head swimming from Sevika's presence. She has you completely gone for her. A proper crush—and surely, due to the current circumstances of being coworkers—a rather inappropriate crush too.

╰➤ "You know," You find yourself saying. "I just realized...I've never actually introduced myself to you."

╰➤ Sevika straightens, eyes flashing with that familiar light of humor. "You're right. You haven't," She clicks her tongue. "How rude."

╰➤ Your skin prickles, "I'm the rude one?"

╰➤ "Are you insinuating otherwise?"

╰➤ "Yes." You nod, trying to erase your smile. Your cheeks are starting to ache. "Did it not take you two months to say more than just Hi to me?"

╰➤ "Not true." She clears her throat. "Sometimes, I would say hey instead."

╰➤ Your jaw drops and silence fills the room.

╰➤ And then you're laughing. It's the type of giggle that bubbles over with an emotion similar to returning home. Your cheeks ache and so does your stomach; your vision momentarily blurs from the action of squinting. Sevika joins you with her own laughter but hers is more beautiful. It's like the soft breeze of the wind on a spring morning. You'd try to make her laugh forever if you really could.

╰➤ Soon you're exhaling softly, features relaxing as you glance towards her. "I'm sure you already know who I am, and what I do here. But, for formality reasons..." You begin. It feels weird to introduce yourself to her, especially after seeing her nearly everyday for the last four months. After all, it seems like she knows enough to have already talked about you to Kai. But it makes you feel better to do it this way. You give her your name personally and shake her hand.

╰➤ A proper introduction.

╰➤ Sevika repeats your name under her breath, trying it out for herself. The sound of it causes your toes to curl inside of your shoes. When she shakes your hand, you take note of how large her fingers are compared to yours. One of her hands could engulf the both of yours without any effort. And her skin is warm and calloused. Despite the rough exterior, she touches you with such fragility that you have to glance down for a second. It's almost as if she's afraid of breaking you.

╰➤ But then the moment is over. Kai returns, this time with two bags of Doritos in their hands. They throw one at Sevika, and thanks to Sevika’s fast reflexes, it’s caught without a single flinch. 

╰➤ “This should hold us over until Leah clocks out.” Kai sighs. “She wants to go to Famous Dave’s again and I’m kinda in the mood for like, anything other than that. Like I can only eat a certain amount of that stuff before I start suffering from a serious case of heartburn.”

╰➤ Sevika scrunches her nose, popping a chip into her mouth. “Then tell her that.”

╰➤ “I can't,” The whine of Kai’s voice becomes oddly endearing. “You know how she gets.”

╰➤ “Then don’t tell her.”

╰➤ “Or maybe you can tell her. She listens to you.”

╰➤ Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

╰➤ “Why not…”

╰➤”Kai, just talk to her. It’s literally not that hard.”

╰➤ “...That’s what she said.”

╰➤ You marvel at the way that Sevika stops mid-chew, gaze still downturned at the red bag in her hand before muttering, “Hilarious.”

╰➤ You try to wipe the growing grin off of your face as you bite the inside of your cheek. Kai glances at you once more, eyes sparkling a gorgeous brown. “Do you want to join us? We’re catching dinner at Famous Dave’s.”

╰➤ Your jaw falls slack, shock hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Oh.” You respond. A breathless laugh leaves you. “Um…”

╰➤ “It’ll just be me, Leah and Vika. Do you know Leah? She’s in accounting. Kinda tall, lanky…socially awkward with bright purple hair?”

 ╰➤ The description doesn't ring any bells for you. “Uh, no. I don't think I’ve seen her around yet.”

╰➤ “Understandable. She works all the way up on the 8th floor.” Kai tilts their head, regarding you with a warmth you aren't used to receiving from anyone in this building besides Sevika and your boss. “Anyways, the offer still stands?”

╰➤ That’s when Sevika glances up at you through her lashes. She doesn’t necessarily crack a smile, but a corner of her lip has curved into something subtle. 

╰➤ “I wish. But I’m working overtime to help Cam with our pitch tomorrow.” You attempt to ignore the way your heart deflates as you say this. 

╰➤”Aw, man.” Kai tosses their empty Dorito bag into a nearby trash can. 

╰➤ "But we should definitely plan something soon.” Before you do anything stupid, like flaking on Cam last minute just to meet up with coworkers for dinner, you urge yourself to bid them goodbye. “I'll catch you guys another time, alright?" 

╰➤ "Nice meeting you!” Kai calls. A short hiss escapes the bottle in their hand as they twist off the cap and tilt their head back. It's a diet coke.

╰➤ "You too!”

╰➤ It's awkward when you slip past them both, proximity dangerously close to Sevika. You find the courage to whisper, “Later Vika,” to her at the last second.

╰➤ Her body stiffens and it almost sounds like she chokes while swallowing another mouthful of her chips. It’s probably the least collected display of behavior you’ve ever witnessed from her. 

╰➤ You stifle a laugh, brushing past her and towards the direction of your office. 

╰➤ You feel really fucking sad today.

╰➤ Days like today are days that you dread. It isn't a result of anything particular. Of course, you want to be able to blame an event or cause. But the truth of the matter is that you're just having a really bad mental health day.

╰➤ It first starts off with you waking up late. You never wake up late. Your mornings are pretty routine. Some may call them mundane, but routine helps you get through the day easier. So when your alarm doesn't sound and you wake after a bad dream, realizing that it's 30 minutes past the time that your alarm usually rings, your heart sinks.

╰➤ You don't have time for a full breakfast. You have to settle for toast and orange juice instead, slipping on the cleanest pair of jeans and shirt that you can find. When you make it to work, you're just on time. But everything is off.

╰➤ Because instead of your usual business casual attire, you're sporting faded jeans, a blank t shirt and beat up sneakers. Your muscles are still sluggish and your eyelids are heavy. So far, the morning isn't great.

╰➤ As time passes, you realize that you're quite ahead in your work. Cam is off for the day, which means you don't have any extra errands or tasks to do for him. There is truly not much left to accomplish.

╰➤ You settle on the mission of clearing out your voicemail box. But that's soon completed. Your latest emails are nothing of importance and you don't have any upcoming meetings to attend. A cloud of doom hovers over you. By 11 AM, it doubles in size. Once noon hits, it's time for your lunch break and a sorrowful cloud clings onto you like a leech.

╰➤ It's hard to gain a semblance of what to do next. Your heart's true desire calls for your bed and a long restful sleep. Your chest seizes with dull aches and your mind swarms with everything yet nothing at all. This is a familiar feeling that you always hate. It's hard to prevent days like this. It always creeps up on you before you can find the strength to prevent it.

╰➤ You're nearly 30 minutes late to taking your lunch today. You've packed a deli sandwich with grapes, pretzels and a bag of potato chips. But none of it is appealing. And for the first time in months, it's a cold lunch—which you don't usually prefer.

╰➤ Your legs take you to the break room. It's almost empty, with only the buzz of a few coworkers trailing in and out. You sit at one of the tables in the corner, sighing softly and staring down at your lunch.

╰➤ You aren't hungry. Whenever the rare days like today hit you—days when your appetite for life fades—a dwindling appetite for food soon follows. But if you don't eat, then you'll later find yourself crouched in your bed with aching temples, fighting off the pains of a skipped meal. So you open the tupperware container that has a handful of green grapes and take a few bites.

╰➤ There's something about working in an office environment that you enjoy. It's mostly independent-driven, which you prefer. You don't mind the quiet solace that comes along with being in your own office, surrounded by towers of paperwork and due dates. The system of doing the same tasks throughout the day—of working through the same checklists—always leaves you feeling at ease.

╰➤ Even the soft rings of telephones and fingers typing against keys provides you the same comfort that brown noise does for other individuals. Everything about your job is monotonous and ordinary, and therefore absolutely perfect.

╰➤ Your shoulders soon relax as you eavesdrop on a conversation between two coworkers huddled together on the other side of the break room. It's silly workplace gossip about other folks that you don't know, but for the sake of people watching, you allow yourself to become preoccupied with the way they interact with one another.

╰➤ Both of the girls are dressed in fashionable attire, with sleek knee high boots and pencils skirts. Their faces are painted with spotless makeup, nails freshly manicured and eyebrows perfectly arched. Your gaze travels back to your faded old jeans and dirty white New Balance sneakers.

╰➤ Sighing, you tug on the soft hem of your crew neck sweater, which you've thrown on due to the chilly air of the building. That's when a chair beside you squeaks. The legs are dragging against the tile floor due to someone pulling it out and sitting on it.

╰➤ You're met with the familiar features of Sevika. Her hair is pulled back into a perfectly sleek low-bun. There's a slight hint of mascara and eyeliner, barely noticeable if you hadn't already seen her on the days where she's bare faced. She smells of everything good; the walking embodiment of heaven.

╰➤ And she looks just as nice as she smells, with her beige button up and black slacks and matching black dress boots. She looks expensive. She always does.

╰➤ You blink, not only taken aback by her beauty, but also by her sudden presence. Isn't her lunch break supposed to be over by now?

╰➤ "Hi." She greets, which is nothing more than a murmur.

╰➤ Sevika has a very distinct way of communicating. Her lips move so fast that sometimes, you aren't sure if she's truly speaking or if it's all just your overactive imagination. She doesn't talk much, but when she does, it's intentional. You know that every word she does say is meant to be said. And you appreciate that trait about her.

╰➤ She's not the type to raise her voice. Out of all the encounters you've had with her, there's never been a time when she's even gotten remotely close to losing her composure. But a part of you is not sure if composure is the right word. Sevika just seems to be naturally indifferent; mellow. Constantly unbothered. That's what draws you to her. And that's why you feel a dose of comfort shoot through you at that moment. Her presence will probably always be welcomed, no matter what mood you're in.

╰➤ You give her a small smile in return before popping another grape into your mouth.

╰➤ She hovers for a bit. You're not sure what to say, or even if you should say something. 

╰➤ "Not using the microwave today?" She adds.

╰➤ You force out a small chuckle. "No."

╰➤ Silence resumes.

╰➤ Her lashes are quite long.

╰➤ She really is beautiful.

╰➤ You glance away from her, absentmindedly playing with the tattered ends of your sleeves. Your left leg is crossed over your right, rocking back and forth out of habit. There's a moment when it lifts a bit too high, knocking into Sevika's shin.

╰➤ You grimace, "I'm sorry."

╰➤ Out of the corner of your eyes, you pick up on the movement of her broad shoulders shrugging. "It's all good."

╰➤ Your rocking resumes. You make sure to angle your body away from her after that; ensuring that you won't accidentally kick her again.

╰➤ Slowly, you nudge your container of grapes towards her, "Would you like some?"

╰➤ She hesitates, "No." Another pause, then, "It doesn't seem like you've eaten much of your lunch today."

╰➤ "I'm not as hungry as I usually am. It's been a rough day."

╰➤ She positions herself to where her elbows lean against the tabletop. It appears that she's inches closer and the smell of her practically overpowers you because of it. "Is it worth talking about?"

╰➤ You peer up at her, eyes widening when you see the dilation of her pupils. Her hands are clasped together, chin resting on her knuckles and grey eyes regarding you with interest. The squaring of her shoulders causes her muscular biceps to bulge through her beige dress-shirt. It's a gorgeous sight.

╰➤ Your heart stutters.

╰➤ "Um," You blink, trying to concentrate despite the ongoing brain fog. "I'm just sad today, Sevika." You swallow thickly, finding yourself inching a little closer with your chin resting on your own hand. "But there's not a particular reason why. It's ridiculous, to be honest. Simply one of those days, you know?"

╰➤ She shifts towards you.

╰➤ Your foot brushes against her calf.

╰➤ A solemn ease envelopes around the both of you as an expression of understanding trickles onto her features. She nods quietly.

╰➤ There's not much to say, or rather, not much that you want her to say. You're grateful that she doesn't make a huge deal of your admission. Sadness lives in every human throughout their life. Just sitting with her is enough to ease the tide waves of grief that has been rolling through you. At that moment, sitting in the break room with Sevika, your sadness somehow finds a way to transform into still water; a sea of tranquility solely from Sevika's presence.

╰➤ She hooks her foot around the leg of your chair, dragging you closer towards her. Your stomach does somersaults and if you weren't so flustered, you'd probably be brave enough to ask her why she's doing this. But instead, you're left trying to stabilize your heart and trembling fingers. You allow yourself to bask in her closeness.

╰➤ "Your sadness isn't ridiculous," Sevika begins, wetting her dark full lips. Her breath smells of peppermint. Your foot grazes against her calf again, this time for a few seconds longer. "I don't know who or what's made you believe that, but it never will be."

╰➤ The shift in her is abrupt; something powerful enough to cause you to gawk at her. With each passing second, all of your worries slowly begin to unspool and relax, because her words ring with unrelenting truth. You know that she 100% believes everything that she's just said. That's enough for you.

╰➤ "And I don't blame you." Sevika adds. "I mean, this job alone is enough to send anyone into a fucking spiral."

╰➤ You laugh for the first time today. Your palms rest against your cheek and your eyes crinkle shut momentarily. Somehow, she makes laughter on even the most difficult days easy. "Oh, I don't know." You respond, after finally calming down. "This place isn't so bad."

╰➤ "Are you sure?" Her eyebrows raise. "I find that very hard to believe."

╰➤ "Well, there are perks. Like the wattage for the microwave here...It's—what—1500? That's way better than the one in my apartment."

╰➤ She rolls her eyes, but you don't miss the way that they flash with amusement. "Sweetheart, no wonder you're depressed. You've turned to microwave usage as a source of entertainment."

╰➤ A giggle escapes you and you squirm in your seat from her teasing.

╰➤ Sweetheart.

╰➤ The pet name echoes in your ears.

╰➤ "There's not much else to be entertained by. The wallpapers here are quite dreadful."

╰➤ She grins, glancing at the wall behind you. "Oddly obsessed with microwaves and picky about interior design. Noted."

╰➤ Your nose scrunches as you fight off another smile, sighing melodramatically.

╰➤ Sevika looks as if she's going to speak again. But then her phone vibrates against the tabletop quietly. She grabs it, peering at the screen before exhaling. "That's my cue." She says with a reticent expression. "My lunch break is up."

╰➤ You feel yourself deflating but you do your best to cover it up, nodding instead. "I should be getting back too."

╰➤ You both stand up, the lingering tension in the atmosphere snapping like an elastic band. Sevika spares you one more look, pocketing her phone and stretching her arms. Her smile is small but the effects of it leaves you feeling disembodied.

╰➤ "See you around, sweetheart." 

╰➤ Then she leaves.

╰➤ You stare at the door in front of you, trying to gain the courage to knock on it.

╰➤ This is ridiculous, really.

╰➤ You're ridiculous.

╰➤ Your palms are sweaty and your heart is beating entirely too fast. You want to turn around and walk back to your own office. You want to forget about ever doing this, or being delusional enough to think that this was a good idea.

╰➤ But you've already gone through the trouble and effort of preparing everything...

╰➤ Plus, numerous coworkers have witnessed you standing in front of this door for quite some time now. Turning around and walking away without even knocking would not only be embarrassing, but also probably attract some negative attention.

╰➤ Sucking in a breath, you raise your free hand, knock three times, then exhale.

╰➤ One second passes and you instantly regret it.

╰➤ You shouldn't have done this.

╰➤ You're sure numerous minutes pass before the door finally swings open—at least it feels that way. Round brown eyes greet you and your heart skips a few beats.

╰➤ You definitely should have thought this through a little more.

╰➤ "Oh, Kai." You breathe. "Hi."

╰➤ “Hey!” Surprise filters onto their features. "What are you doing here? Have you been standing out here for long? Sev—uh, you have…” They disappear behind the door, whispering something indiscreetly. 

╰➤ "I was just stopping by." You shift your weight, growing uneasy. You try to glance past them but it's hard to see considering you're several inches shorter than them. "F-For um, well... I was hoping to speak to Sevika."

╰➤ Kai appears in front of you again, smirking impishly. “...Any minute now, Vika. It’s not like you have someone waiting out here for you or anything.”

╰➤ You swallow. Inconspicuously, you glance around you, hoping that no one is eavesdropping from their cubicles. "I was wanting to give her something. I'm sorry that I interrupted." You rub your palm against your forehead, not knowing where to go from here. "Honestly, it can wait. It's not urgent or anything. It's just a gift. I know we don't usually stop by each other's offices like this so I'm sorry for showing up unexpectedly. I just thought...I don't know. I can come back? Yeah, I'll just come back another time-"

╰➤ "That's not necessary." Sevika appears over the shoulder of Kai. Your chin tilts up in order to meet her gaze, and you take a few steps backwards, clasping your hands behind you. "You weren't interrupting anything." The handsome woman muses, brows raised. You marvel at the way that her eyes glaze over you, up and down, before settling on your face again.

╰➤ Nodding, you allow your attention to flicker to Kai, who is now standing in between the both of you with raised eyebrows. The awkwardness of it all makes you clear your throat, shuffling your feet and wishing you had thought of a better way to do this. Maybe you should haves waited until you saw Sevika again in the break room.

╰➤ "I’ll catch you guys later, okay?” Kai chirps, barely glancing at Sevika as they pocket their phone. They’re practically beaming at the both of you when they step past the door threshold. Then, they disappear behind the rows of cubicles.

╰➤ Your mind reels at everything that's just happened. You struggle to fully understand why the temperature of the central AC suddenly feels like a searing heat wave. 

╰➤ When you peek over at Sevika, you find that she's already observing you. Her two front teeth sink into the plump flesh of her lower lip, eyes a darker shade of grey and swarming with undeniable heed. You can't help but admire her lips and how they appear to be perfectly crafted. They look softer than a billow of feathers, and you desperately want to touch them—want to feel them—and want to allow them to sweep you up into another world.

╰➤ That hunger inside of you grows, a specific feeling that she's only been able to bring out lately, and you know that no one can ever satiate such a desire but her.

╰➤ God.

╰➤ You've got it bad.

╰➤ She releases her lip and you become enamored with the way her throat jostles as she swallows. Painfully aware of your obvious staring, you force your attention back to her eyes.

╰➤ "I've got something for you," You say. Your voice is unfamiliar to your ears—huskier.

╰➤ Silently, she gestures for you to come in. You step forward and close the door behind you.

╰➤ Sevika's office is similar to yours. The desk and chair are quite the same, along with the filing cabinets and additional chairs for guests. But she also has a dark purple rug, with numerous framed pictures and a mini fridge shoved in the corner.

╰➤ A pair of dark purple curtains are drawn, allowing the sunlight to creep in, and more picture frames line the windowsill.

╰➤ Before you allow yourself to get too swept up with your surroundings, you turn to her and pull your left hand out from behind you, which holds a card. It's a simple blank one that you bought at the store and it has the words thank you written with one of your favorite sparkly ink pens, along with your signed name and lip print stained by your favorite lipstick shade. Above the personalized message are a few pairs of pressed tulips.

╰➤ "I just wanted to express my gratitude." You explain. She takes the card, staring down at it silently. "I was feeling a bit down the other day and you helped me by keeping me company. It may sound silly because it was just a simple conversation but," You shrug. "Conversation goes a long way sometimes. Especially for those that need it."

╰➤ Her thumb traces over one of the petals, lips parting and eyes widening. It's hard to know exactly what she's thinking and a part of you believes that maybe you've overstepped—that you've crossed an unspoken boundary. Her ongoing silence causes an unexpected panic to stir within you.

╰➤ Desperate to clean up a situation that you fear will go haywire, you open your mouth to say, "These are from a small garden that I’ve been trying to grow." Your forefinger hovers above her thumb, gesturing towards the flowers. "I pressed them myself, so that they won't die on you." You lick your lips, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. Oh god. Why does she look like that? Why isn't she saying anything? This can't be good. "And I...well, now that I'm thinking about this, I'm realizing that this may be coming off as weird. I'm sorry. If I've made you like...uncomfy or anything, I totally understand and I'm sorry. My intention wasn't to make things weird."

╰➤ Her head raises at that, expression completely unguarded. It's rare when you're able to see unfiltered emotions flitting across her features. Sevika isn't the type to walk around with her heart on her sleeve. But with the way that she's looking at you, you realize that there's something unbelievably tender about her gaze.

╰➤ "And you'll probably tease me for this," You continue. You curse yourself for sounding breathless. Tearing your eyes away from her, you point at the card again. "But I used my microwave to press the flowers. Only because the other methods would have taken too long."

╰➤ That's when she laughs.

╰➤ You exhale softly from her hearty chuckles, relief immediately enveloping you.

╰➤ Laughter is a good sign.

╰➤ "I should have maybe waited to give you the card. I just didn't want to anticipate your reaction until noon, if I'm being honest." You wring out your hands, not able to shake the nervous jitters running through you. "I hope you like it."

╰➤ She runs her thumb over the material once more, lips rolling inwards before she rubs them together, deep in thought. You impatiently wait for a sign, any sign, that indicates her feelings towards your gesture.

╰➤ Her eyes, set deep above the plane of her cheekbones, slant as they peer downward towards the cardboard in her hand. She inhales through her nose, relaxes her lips, then exhales.

╰➤ "You didn't have to do this," She finally replies. "But of course I like it." She doesn't smile. However, you do notice a new light in her expression when she refocuses her attention on you. "Also, you apologize a lot." She pauses before adding, "...More than you need to. You haven't done anything weird at all."

╰➤ You want to bury your face in a pillow and squeal. But you settle for a smile instead. "Oh."

╰➤ Her lips crack into a knowing grin before she turns on her heel and walks over to her desk. She delicately positions the card so that it's standing upright next to a picture of her and a skinny brunette man. "The card is beautiful." She observes. Despite the natural raspiness of her voice, it has a warmer lilt to it now. "Thank you."

╰➤ You determine that Sevika thanking you is a new favorite. You want to shower her with endless gestures if it means that she'll continue to show fondness towards you.

╰➤ She leans against her desk, halfway sitting on the top surface, before shoving her hands in her pockets. Through the material of her slacks, you notice that they seem to be balled into fists.

╰➤You shift your weight as a strong sense of pride swells in your chest, opting to rest your shoulder against the door frame.

╰➤Only—you remember too late that nothing is actually beside you, and that the door frame is several paces behind you. Instead, you stumble when you realize that there's nothing close enough to catch your weight.

╰➤ Your arms sprout out in an attempt to catch your balance.

╰➤ "Um," You mumble dumbly, flustered by the mess that you've become. "...Thought there was a wall beside me." You clear your throat, attempting to right yourself again. 

╰➤ Sevika stares at you, eyes dancing with merriment, as she struggles to swallow her chuckles. She forces out a few coughs, trying to cover up her mirth, but it's clear that she finds your lack of coordination entertaining.

╰➤ You rest your hands on your hips in an attempt to find a comfortable standing position. You want to cringe. You want to crawl under a rock and never be perceived again.

╰➤ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a heavy exhale. The room feels really hot and your heart is doing backflips in your chest. You can't tell if it's because of your stupid schoolgirl crush or the embarrassment of nearly eating shit in front of Sevika.

╰➤ Probably a combination of both...

╰➤ "Gravity really hates me." You jest.

╰➤ Her grin widens. "I can tell."

╰➤ You let out an exasperated chuckle, palm reaching up to rub against your forehead. She has to be aware of her effect on you.

╰➤ Like it's just painfully obvious at this point.

╰➤ Right?

╰➤ Your lips part and your hands pool with more sweat and you feel like the biggest lovesick loser to ever exist. There she is, with her perfect face and perfect laugh and perfect everything. You've barely talked to this woman outside of lunch breaks yet here you are, giving her pressed fucking flowers and worshiping the ground she walks on just because she sat with you for a few minutes. There can't be any other way that you can become more obvious.

╰➤ Your hands are flailing ridiculously around you, towards her plush purple carpet and curtains and picture frames before you're saying, "Nice office by the way."

╰➤ And she's looking at you with that knowing expression that's borderline condescending, which you really love despite how much you want to hate it, when she replies, "Thanks, darling."

╰➤ You blink rapidly and try not to combust right then.

╰➤ Your feet carry you to a nearby bookshelf before you can think otherwise. A shitload of CD’s are neatly stacked on them with names of artists you didn't know anyone still listened to. You preoccupy yourself with shifting through them, trying your best to ignore the zoo erupting in your stomach. There’s collections of Nina Simone and Freddie Hubbard and Bill Withers. Your eyebrows raise at the eclectic catalogue, not bothering to swallow the surprise that sprouts within you. It should be known at this point that Sevika will never fail to surprise you.

╰➤ Your hands tremble as they hold an ABBA CD. They cling tighter to the plastic case, attempting to make the shaking less noticeable. Something warm brushes against your shoulder, before taking the CD from you. You peer at Sevika, observing the way that she wordlessly takes out the disc and moves to a CD player that is situated farther to your left. 

╰➤ Despite her being concentrated on getting the speaker system to work, you’re totally enraptured by her. Her smell surrounds you like a cloud of ecstasy. Her hair is down today, a feathery cut that stops just below her jaw. Loose ends are tucked behind her ear, highlighting the rarest features of her face that you probably have overlooked before. Her lips purse together while she deeply concentrates, puffing out in a way that makes them look unbelievably inviting. Your breath catches, a prominent ache building between your thighs as the room fills with the beginning chords of The Winner Takes It All.

╰➤ She hums underneath her breath as the first verse begins, neatly placing the CD on top of the player. Slowly, her eyes drag back to you, unfocused and clearly lost in the music that fills the room. But then she freezes, seemingly not expecting you to already be observing her. The harmonies of the song contrast to the moment of stillness then; a corded tension falling between the two of you. 

╰➤ The feelings you have in that moment are visceral. Your head is spinning and your heart is racing. No matter how hard you swallow, your throat remains dry and your skin yearns for her—for her touch and her warmth and her firmness. 

╰➤ Your eyes burn and you have to blink rapidly in order to clear your vision. You can't understand why these feelings have hit you so suddenly, and why they're so intense for a woman that's only your coworker. But you try not to scold yourself too much, rubbing your palms against the material of your skirt instead.

╰➤ “What’s wrong?” She whispers, scanning your face.

╰➤ And that's when you realize how close you're standing to her. Maybe you were the one to step forward—or was it her?—and shorten the distance, but you can't know for sure. You should pull away. You should bid her a good day and return to your office (you'll have to be on the clock soon anyways) but you can't.

╰➤ You can't because it's too late. She’s already roped you in with her aloofness and cheshire grin and warm sultry voice. The window to escape has already passed. You're simply in too deep now.

╰➤ “You're just really fucking beautiful.” You blurt out. 

╰➤ When Sevika registers what you've said, it seems like she stiffens in shock. Her lips part, a sharp breath being sucked in while her stare intensifies. 

╰➤ You don't have enough wits to properly downplay your words or try to retract what you've said. The most you try to do is blink away the tears in your welling eyes and say, “I’m sorry.”

╰➤ You take a step back, then two. The reality of the situation hits you like a brick wall. You let out a heavy exhale, trying to calm the storm beginning to brew in your mind.

╰➤ Holy fuck.

╰➤ What if you’ve made her uncomfortable? You've clearly crossed a line. You're at work. In fifteen minutes, you’ll both be on the clock and trying to get your day started. This is inappropriate. 

╰➤ You feel like employees from the Human Resources department will barge right in at any moment, confronting you about your intentions and hauling you off to be questioned. Guilt rumbles in you like an unrelenting river breaking through a dam.  

╰➤ Sevika is shaking her head, eyes searching yours with growing alarm. “Sorry? Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry fo-”

╰➤ “...with the flowers and the card and calling you beautiful. I shouldn't be doing those things and saying stuff like that. I mean, not because I don't think you're beautiful. You're so beautiful. It's just... Oh lord—I’m doing it again. Fuck. Frick. Uh,” You gulp, taking a few more steps backwards. “I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'm totally aware that we’re coworkers. And I don't wanna be that one creep in the office who-”

╰➤ “No, it's okay.” She shakes her head again, a small smile appearing on her face. “You haven't weirded me out at all.”

╰➤ You stop mid rant, mouth hanging open and eyes trailing back to her. “Are you sure?”

╰➤ “Completely sure.” 

╰➤ Your attention hooks onto the details of her laugh lines. They become more prevalent as her smile widens. You want to brush your lips against hers and feel the curve of her laugh lines against your skin. 

╰➤ You fight the urge, responding with, “Okay,” instead. 

╰➤ She hums quietly underneath her breath, arms folding against her chest. 

╰➤ “Okay,” She echoes. Her weight rocks backwards, a slight sway that causes her hair to brush lightly against her jawline. You're captivated by the sharp edge of her jaw—and how it seems to become even sharper with each passing second—as she momentarily clenches it. 

╰➤ She’s opening her mouth to say something else when there's a knock on the door. “Sevika?” The silhouette of a woman, probably a coworker, shines through the frosted-glass door. Reality slams into you like a semi truck.

╰➤ Your heart jumps at the interruption. For some reason, you take a few more steps away from Sevika and your muscles tense.

╰➤ There's a hesitation that looms in the air. 

╰➤ Sevika's eyes hold something undefinable. Her gaze is level and full of intent. And you can't understand why everything feels so convoluted right now.

╰➤ After a few agonizing seconds of silence, she sighs, shoulders falling as she shifts her attention to the ground. “Come in.” 

╰➤ The door opens and a pretty brunette with glossy lips and mascara-coated eyes walks in. You've seen her numerous times throughout the day. She's one of the receptionists. 

╰➤ She smiles at you and you're surprised when she greets you. You’ve never realized she knows your name. 

╰➤ “Tara,” Sevika addresses. “What's up?”

╰➤ The receptionist turns to her, “I was trying to call you but it was going to voicemail. I wasn't sure if you’ve turned on your phone for the day? I’m really sorry for interrupting. But you have a gentleman waiting for you in the lobby, he says he has an 8 o’clock with you? I just wanted to confirm.” She clears her throat, shifting her weight awkwardly. Then she’s eying you again with a small smile. “I’m sorry—”

╰➤ “No, no. You're totally fine.” Sevika’s features morph into an expression that's more genial. “Did you catch his name? I do think I have an 8 o’clock, I just lost track of time.” She’s making her way over to the CD player, swiftly cutting it off. The music stops and the air stills.

╰➤ Hair stands on your skin as she walks to her desk, fiddling with a few buttons on her landline. 

╰➤ “Yes,” Tara replies, glancing down at a yellow sticky note. “He’s from the branch in Chicago. He goes by…”

╰➤ “I’ll catch you later, Sevika.”Your voice is rushed and barely above a whisper. The feeling of overstaying your welcome floods you.

╰➤ Sevika glances up under her lashes, hands faltering from the paperwork she's rummaging through. You don't give her a chance to reply, simply shooting her a smile and wave before slipping out of her office. 

╰➤  You sigh at the sign in front of you, bold words reading, BROKEN! PLEASE USE ANOTHER ONE on a piece of paper attached to the microwave. A low groan burns in the back of your throat. You’re starving. In fact, it’s been forever since you’ve let yourself grow this hungry.

╰➤ You didn't eat breakfast this morning. You were too preoccupied with thinking about Sevika’s gift, and how the hell were you going to give her a card with pressed flowers in a non-creepy way. But the task has been done, and for the most part, Sevika didn’t appear turned off by your gesture. So now, you are hungry. 

╰➤  Your stomach growls and your mouth pools with saliva. Spinning on your heels, you march out of the break room, trying to think of any other parts of the building that has microwaves. Your floor definitely doesn’t, which means you would have to take the elevator. And you don’t want to do that, especially if it means having to walk through another department. 

╰➤  Your mind is swarming with what ifs and maybe’s as you travel through rows of cubicles. The possibility of finding an unoccupied microwave is slim to none. If the one on your floor has been broken all morning, then there’s surely a growing line at the other ones. Dread gnaws at you and you huff with distaste. 

╰➤  There’s a part of you that considers eating your food cold. But your nose wrinkles at the idea and it’s quickly disregarded. 

╰➤  When you reach the elevator, you're met with the sight of Sevika leaning against the adjacent wall. She is lazily scrolling on her phone, her other hand occupying her pocket, and her cross body bag hanging off of one of her shoulders. Similar to the sudden dip of a rollercoaster ride—visceral and unexpected—a warmth spreads within you. Your head feels light–weightless even–and you can feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

╰➤ Your arm lifts and presses the button that summons the elevator. It’s a silly action, since you’re sure Sevika has already pressed it if she’s waiting for it to arrive. But you need something to do with your body; something that can expel some of the excess energy and calm your belly acrobatics. 

╰➤ Your movement seems to catch Sevika’s attention, causing her scrolling to momentarily freeze as she glances up.

╰➤  Your gazes lock and your breath hitches and you’re pretty sure you begin to hear fireworks sounding in the distance. She smiles and you return the gesture. Or was it you that smiled first? 

╰➤  “Hi,” You say.

╰➤  Her attention trails to the lower half of your face, lingering there for a few moments before climbing back up to your eyes. In a millisecond, she’s pushing off of the wall, body upright and phone slipping into her pocket. “Hey, you.” Her grin curves even more.  

╰➤ You don’t know what’s making you feel so lovesick: the inviting cadence of her voice or the fact that she’s practically glowing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen any blemish on her face besides a few faded scars. Seriously–what kind of skin care routine did the robust woman have? You made a mental note to ask her. 

╰➤ “The weather’s been nice today.” She adds.

╰➤ You fight off a chuckle, nodding in response. The conversation is elementary and completely like all the other ones that you’ve had with her countless times before. But you enjoy how mundane your chats are with Sevika. It isn’t really the topics that interest you rather than the calming consistency of her presence. The both of you could be counting the wall tiles to pass time for all you care. 

╰➤ Sevika cards her fingers through her hair as she rolls her eyes at a corny dad joke you’ve just told. “Clever.” She quietly muses, husky voice thick with sarcasm. Her lips are fighting off a smirk though, so you know she isn’t as annoyed as she’s trying to seem. 

╰➤ “Thanks.” 

╰➤ When Sevika centers her weight, she peers at the carpet, causing a singular strand of hair to fall in front of her forehead. A small part of you wants to reach out and run your fingers through it, but you softly shake your head to refocus. You listen to the faint rings of telephones in the distance instead.

╰➤“Well,” You drag out, growing uncomfortable by the silence. “Did you have a good weekend?”

╰➤She lifts her head, nodding softly. “Yeah.” A slight pause. “I went to dinner with some friends on Saturday, and then we watched the superbowl on Sunday…Made a day out of it, really…” She clears her throat. “Yeah. It was nice… What about you?”

╰➤ You don’t register the swaying of your body until your shoulder brushes against her bicep. “It was okay, I guess. I finished a novel. Went grocery shopping…did some gardening.” You wrinkle your nose, embarrassment washing over you. “Probably not as fun or eventful as yours, I suppose.”

╰➤ “Ah,” She chuckles. Her bicep brushes against your shoulder again. You can’t decipher if it was her fault or yours this time. “I doubt that.”

╰➤ You offer a thoughtful hum, but keep quiet otherwise.

╰➤ The elevator sounds with a soft ding! All too soon, Sevika is encouraging you to step on board before her. 

╰➤ “Hi Shane,” You say, smiling at the coworker that is already inside of the service lift. He barely regards you, lips frowning and worry lines prevalent on his forehead. He takes off his baseball cap momentarily, revealing a receding hairline glistening with sweat, before wiping it off with the back of his hand and repositioning the cap.

╰➤ “Hi.” The middle aged man grumbles. He nearly throws a fit when Sevika takes her time walking through the elevator doors. His face is firetruck red, left foot tapping impatiently as his finger presses the button for the 8th floor. 

╰➤ Your eyebrows shoot up and you look at Sevika. She observes the entire situation with passive amusement. 

╰➤ “Stupid elevators.” Shane grumbles. 

╰➤ You press your lips together, trying your best to refrain from laughing while reaching around him to press the button for the 6th floor. Usually, there’s a few microwaves on that one. “Where to?” You angle your head towards Sevika.

╰➤ “6th floor as well.”

╰➤ The atmosphere fills with the trademark grinding of the elevator and Shane’s disgruntled mumbling. The minutes tick by agonizingly slow and you even feel bad for giggling quietly when Shane huffs again, looking up at the ceiling with a grinding jaw. 

╰➤ Your fingers press against your lips in an attempt to remain calm, and your eyes flit over to Sevika knowingly. 

╰➤ Shane’s always been pegged as overly anxious and impatient in the office. He seems to be perpetually unhappy with everyone and everything. He seems to just be unhappy in general.

╰➤ A few levels down, the doors open and relief fills you. Riding the elevator with a fretful Shane definitely wasn’t on the top of today’s To-Do list. But then you falter at the sight of a plain concrete wall in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow and you glance back at the row of buttons. The number 6 is no longer illuminated, but you certainly aren’t facing the cubicles on the 6th floor right now. 

╰➤ "Shit…" Sevika mumbles. “This isn’t good.” 

╰➤ “Oh, come on!” The elevator shakes slightly in response to Shane obnoxiously stomping his foot. 

╰➤ Your breath hitches and you feel your arms searching frantically, trying to grab onto something to ground you, but only finding empty air. 

╰➤  Sevika’s already scanning the surroundings, probably for an emergency call box. You don’t say anything. You’re not sure if you can. 

╰➤ Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

╰➤ “I can’t believe this!” Shane’s voice is several pitches higher now. “I’m going to miss my appointment. Dammit!” He stomps his foot again, snatching his cap off. It falls to the ground and his hands tightly grip his hair–or, what’s left of it.

╰➤Sevika’s head snaps in the general direction of his. “Let’s not do that.” Her voice is icy. It comes off as a command instead of a suggestion and even you find yourself trying to gain your bearings. 

╰➤ Shane sends her a glare but he makes sure to keep his foot planted and his mouth shut. 

╰➤ Your eyes are burning and you're beginning to find it hard to breathe. 

╰➤ You’re stuck.

╰➤ The elevator is fucking stuck. 

╰➤ No–you can’t freak out. That won’t help. 

╰➤ Your hands are bunching against the material of your clothing, feet working into nervous tapping. Oh God.

╰➤ Oh God.

╰➤ Sevika finally finds a button next to an icon with the emergency bell symbol, which doesn’t seem to be immediately obvious at first glance. The noise is loud and jarring when she presses it, before an automated voice begins to speak words that you can’t fully register. 

╰➤ And then she’s talking with an operator, that much you can process, but it’s all blurring together too much for your liking.

╰➤ Shane is breathing loud. Annoyingly loud in fact. 

╰➤ You want to tell him to shut the hell up, especially when he starts crying, but you can barely see through your blurred vision and it doesn’t seem like your body will listen to your brain even if you will it to.

╰➤ Then there’s warm hands pressing into your shoulders, squeezing them, before lowering to your elbows. 

╰➤ “It’s okay,” Sevika reassures. “I just talked to the operator. They’re going to try to reset the system.” 

╰➤ You shake your head and grip onto her shirt. “We're going to die.”

╰➤ “Hey,” Her breath fans against your cheeks as she ducks down to look at you levelly. Her touch retracks before you feel warmness on your face. Her thumbs are swiping your skin. “Sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay.” 

╰➤  That’s when you realize that you’re the one who’s breathing heavy, because you’re also the one who’s crying. Her thumbs are wiping away your tears.

╰➤ “Sev…” You respond, breath ragged. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared, I-”

╰➤ “It’s an honest human reaction.” Her lips brush against your left earlobe as she pulls you in for a hug. “...Better than stomping your foot and shaking the entire cabin, that’s for sure.” 

╰➤ You let out an ugly combination of a sob and laugh.

╰➤ “Not funny, you asshole.” Shane isn’t too happy with the jest.

╰➤ “Hey!” You find yourself objecting. You lift your head but know it’s no use. Sevika’s too tall for you to be able to see over her. “Be nice, you two.” 

╰➤ Shane grumbles a few other curse words, this time much quieter. Sevika tightens her hold around your waist, nose rubbing into your shoulder with an odd tenderness, but she doesn’t say anything else.

╰➤ You’re sniffling as you try to relax in her hold. You’ve given up the task of restarting your heart because you know that you’ll never be able to truly calm down until you’re safely out of this elevator. But for the meantime, you try to distract yourself with the smell of Sevika, and the feeling of her pressed against you. You cling onto her like a raft in the middle of a storm, praying that she can continue to keep your worries at bay.

╰➤ “Sev,” You say again, voice shaking. “I’m really scared.”

╰➤ “I know.” 

╰➤ The elevator slips down a considerable amount, causing the both of you to lose your footing and nearly fall. Your scream melts into a gurgle of cries as Sevika curses lowly.

╰➤ She lowers the both of you to the floor, hands attempting to steady you. The panic you feel is definitely taking over now. 

╰➤ “We’re going to die.” You hiccup, eyes widening. 

╰➤ “Darling,” Sevika pauses. You almost believe that she’s trying to gather more patience, and you can’t blame her if she is. But the pause is too brief for you to know for sure. “We aren’t going to die. Hey–”

╰➤ Her fingers are gingerly pinching your chin, urging you to meet her gaze. An air of passivity rolls off of her. “Can you breathe with me? You’re hyperventilating.” Her brows begin to furrow. “I can’t have you passing out on me, you know.”

╰➤ “We won't make it out of here.”

╰➤ Her lips fix into a thin line, “Do you trust me?”

╰➤ Your reply is immediate, “Yes.”

╰➤ “Can you trust that I will make sure you get out of here safely?” Her palms begin to press against the sides of your face, holding you close to her. She strokes the apples of your cheek with her thumbs, expression pensive. “I've got you. I…” She wets her lips, eyes flickering with an odd light. “I promise.”

╰➤ A few stray tears escape your eyes, rolling down your face and onto her palms. You inhale a long shuddering breath as you nod, mouth souring everytime you think of your current predicament.

╰➤ “Okay.” You rasp. 

╰➤ The both of you are a breath apart, huddled in one of the corners. That's when you realize that you're actually sitting in her lap. 

╰➤ “I just can't believe I’m stuck here simply because I was wanting to use the 6th floor microwave.” Your eyes flicker shut, another wave of doom hitting you. “I just wanted some lasagna!”

╰➤ Sevika laughs. “If only you took the stairs.”

╰➤ “I know, right? I don't usually because I'm lazy, but maybe-”

╰➤ “I get that this is an emotional moment right now,” Shane grunts. “But does anyone have a bottle or something? I really need to piss.”

╰➤ Your nose crinkles. Ew.

╰➤ Sevika grinds her jaw. “You will keep your pants on, or so help me God…”

╰➤ “Okay, okay. I got it.”

╰➤ You clear your throat, shifting in her lap and glancing at Shane. He has his left leg crossed over his right, legs tense and face seemingly straining with concentrated effort. A vein is bulging out of his neck and sweat is gathering around his forehead again.

╰➤ “Tell me another one of your lame jokes.” Sevika whispers, completely disregarding him and squeezing you closer to her.

╰➤ The shift in conversation feels like emotional whiplash. 

╰➤ Everything about today has been weird. You never thought a day would come where you're actually sitting in her lap, and being comforted in the most gentle way.

╰➤ But then again, you never anticipated getting stuck in an elevator with her so…

╰➤ “They are not lame.” You refute, feigning offense. “They're dad jokes.”

╰➤ “Okay, well...” Her attention zeroes in on your nose. One of her hands raises, brushing at it before inspecting a small fuzzy and flicking it away. “Tell me one of them.”

╰➤ Your blink in thought, scanning your brain for one that you haven't told her yet. It's starting to become hard to decipher which jokes you have and haven't shared with Sevika, especially as the months continue to carry on. You fear that you'll run out of them sooner than you’d like to (at least the funny ones) and then you won't know how else to entertain her. 

╰➤ “What do you call a fake noodle?”

╰➤ Her forehead scrunches as she ponders on a possible answer. 

╰➤ A slow smile curves at your lips while you mutter, “An impasta.”

╰➤ You can practically see the gears in her brain shifting before she registers the pun. Her lips are puffy from constantly being chewed on when they pull into a playful scowl. The tiniest wrinkles appear along the slope of her nose as she scrunches it, eyes peering at you through narrowed slits.

╰➤ “You're ridiculous.”

╰➤ That causes you to laugh, heart warming at the slight annoyance in her voice.  “Ridiculously funny and charming? Sure.”

╰➤ “...Oh my god.”

╰➤ “You love my jokes, just admit it.”

╰➤ “Sweetheart…They're not actually yours. I know you google them.”

╰➤ “ It's my delivery though. No one delivers jokes better than I do. It takes actual skill.”

╰➤ “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

╰➤ “...There's the timing you have to consider and the vocal inflection.” Your hands fall down her arms, resting in your lap as they tug on one another. “It involves real artistry.”

╰➤ “How dumb of me to think otherwi-”

╰➤ “Oh, thank you! God! Thank you!”

╰➤ You jump at Shane’s outburst, examining the way he stands to his feet, a grin breaking across his face. He’s pointing at the elevator doors, which are now closing. A low hum fills the air. Soon after, the sound of cogs becomes louder and the elevator begins moving.

╰➤ You and Sevika startle at the sudden shift, moment now broken. When you peer at her, she's smiling softly, grey irises drinking in every one of your features. 

╰➤”I told you we’d be okay.” She says.

╰➤You're too relieved to properly respond, allowing her to help you stand up instead. 

╰➤ The intercom beeps and a voice says, "Rescue team here. Please remind us how many people are there with you?"

╰➤ “If you feel any sort of stress from today, please don't hesitate to use this number.” Cam says as he shoves a business card into your hand.

╰➤ You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. I swear.”

╰➤ “There's no shame in using the services, I promise. Just input your employee number and the company code on the website and it’ll—”

╰➤ “Cam,” Your left hand reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. You make sure to hold his gaze. “I’m totally fine now, I promise. I’ll admit that it shook me up a little, because it felt like we were going to be stuck in there forever. But everything's okay.”

╰➤ He scans your face, searching for any sign that you're being untruthful. When he doesn't find any, he nods smally. “Go home.” His stare becomes stern. “Take it easy for the next few days.”

╰➤ “Cam—”

╰➤ “I’m serious! If you go back to your office for the rest of the day, I’ll take a deduction from your wages.”

╰➤ You roll your eyes, “That doesn’t sound legal.”

╰➤ “I’m sorry, I can't hear you anymore.” He shrugs his shoulders, pacing a few steps backwards. “I have meetings to attend now.” He doesn't allow you to object, adding, “Have a good weekend, kid,” before turning around and leaving the room.

╰➤ It hasn't been long since you’ve been rescued from the elevator—maybe 30 minutes, at most. Cam made his way over to the three of you once he received notice of everything. You feel relatively fine. The medics accessed you first, since you seemed to be the most shaken up when they arrived. And ever since they finished, Cam has somehow convinced himself that you, Shane and Sevika should take the rest of the day off.

╰➤ He also seemed adamant about offering you the free therapy services that your company provides, hence the business card in your hand. But you feel like it might be a desperate gesture to cover his ass. Surely, this isn't the first time that someone's been stuck in the elevator while on the clock.

╰➤ The medic team seems to just be finishing their assessment with Sevika and Shane now. You stand off to the side, watching helplessly, as Sevika sits in a chair and chats casually with a buff paramedic woman. 

╰➤ The three of you were momentarily moved to a nearby conference room when rescued from the elevator. One of the office supervisors said it was to give you all a space to “wind down and decompress.” But you're pretty sure it's because the company is trying to gloss over the elevator incident. 

╰➤ The door to the conference room opens and you're met with the familiar face of Kai. Their eyes are wide—frantic—as they scan the area. 

╰➤ “Dude,”  They gasp, attention on Sevika. “You won't believe the stuff that's circulating the office right now…it's some crazy shit!”

╰➤ Then they’re grabbing one of the chairs closest to Sevika, plopping down in it. “Are you guys okay? Seriously, what the fuck happened?”

╰➤ “We were stuck in that stupid contraption.” Shane butts in. “We could have died and they only care about giving us PTO and a stupid link to telehealth.”

╰➤ It's the first time you've heard him talk since stepping off of the elevator. 

╰➤ “I missed my damn appointment and the fee I’ll get charged is ridiculous,” He slams his hand on the table, fingers spreading out against the surface and jaw grinding. “I’m gonna sue these motherfuckers.”

╰➤ Surrounding medics have been slowly packing up their equipment, but they momentarily freeze at the sound of Shane's threat. The one closest to Sevika lifts an eyebrow, expression bemused as she pockets her phone. 

╰➤ “I’m not sure if you can do that, Shane.” Kai quirks. Their eyes dance with humor as they swallow a chuckle.

╰➤ “I’m 62. I can do whatever the hell I want!”

╰➤ Kai nods, slightly taken aback. “Touché.”

╰➤ Shane grumbles under his breath, standing to his feet with the help of a nearby medic. He’s slightly hunched over, gripping the lower part of his back while he hobbles to the entrance door.

╰➤ “Bye Shane!” You call.

╰➤ He waves you off irritably, not bothering to turn around and give you a proper farewell.

╰➤ “And they said you fainted when the rescue team came,” Kai turns to you, expression morphing into something kinder. You think you see their eyes travel to Sevika for a split second, but you conclude that it’s just your overactive imagination. “How are you feeling now?”

╰➤ You laugh incredulously, “Do people just live to gossip here? That was barely an hour ago.”

 ╰➤ “It's not like there's much else to do around these parts,” Kai grins wickedly. “Besides the scandalous office romances that people chat about. But that's old news. This is the most exciting thing we’ve had since Christmas!”

╰➤ You laugh harder, hands coming up to rest against your cheeks as you work through your shock. “That's one way to put it.”

╰➤ The three of you are alone now since the last two medics managed to slip out of the room inconspicuously. And now it's harder to escape the overwhelming fatigue that looms in the air. Secretly, you thank Cam for giving you the rest of the day off.

╰➤ “I have to get back soon. I’m supposed to be meeting the Amazon delivery driver in t minus one minute.” 

╰➤ “Oh my god,” Sevika rumbles, shoving her friend out of their seat. “Go do your job.”

╰➤ “Yes ma’am.” Kai wipes their hands on their jeans, leaning down and kissing Sevika on the cheek before ruffling her hair. “I’m glad you didn't like, die or anything, loser.”

╰➤ Sevika merely grunts.

╰➤ Kai winks at you, “Bye lovebirds!”

╰➤ And then there were two. 

╰➤ You carefully pivot to face the herculean woman a few feet away from you. The crease between her brows, even though heavily prevalent when Kai was here many seconds ago, are now gone. She stares at you for a beat, lower lip caught between her teeth and hands drumming against the muscles of her thighs. 

╰➤ “Sorry about Kai. They're a bit childish sometimes.” Sevika mutters. But despite her words, you can tell she thinks fondly of Kai. 

╰➤ “I like them.” You find yourself admitting. “They’re funny.”

╰➤ “They’re annoying.”

╰➤ Her lips twitch into the smallest hint of a grin. Your own smile grows and subsequently, her eyelids flutter. In the midst of today's chaos and fading professionalism, the heart of something tender passes between the both of you. The air cracks and sparks fly. It's fleeting—but it's there.

╰➤ Her throat jostles as she swallows, “How are you feeling?” 

╰➤ There's an unmistakable burn within you that her question creates. “I’m better than before.” 

╰➤ Her eyes trail down your body, then back up to your face. You assume that it's a mistake. But then her gaze wanders again, and this time it's for longer. This time, it has more intent.  Your stomach flips.

╰➤ Her lips barely move when she responds, “Good.”

╰➤ You sense the moment slipping away, and a tiny part of your brain nudges you to leave the room and go home. God-forbid Cam stumbles back in and sees that you're still here. But for some reason, you hover.

╰➤ “Thanks for earlier, by the way,” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and your hands are growing clammy. “For helping me and stuff.”

╰➤ And stuff.

╰➤ You're not sure if thanking her for the other stuff is appropriate, considering you were practically straddling her and holding onto her in ways that's crossed many, many lines. But that seems to be the ongoing trend between you and Sevika; you cross too many lines with her.

╰➤ “No need to be thanking me.” 

╰➤ You shrug, “...Was still kind of you.”

╰➤ Her lips rub together and that's when you realize how soft they look. A small hum escapes her and you watch inquisitively as she opens her mouth. 

╰➤ But then nothing comes out, leaving her with a slack jaw and gaping mouth. Your brows start to furrow, chest tightening while several more beats pass and Sevika remains dazed. 

╰➤ A whooshing sound fills the air due to the AC turning on. Dust particles begin to circulate around you, and your ankles are tickled by the new draft blowing from the vents.

╰➤ “Is everything okay?” You try to keep the worry out of your voice, but the shift in her is abrupt.

╰➤ Her eyes cloud over with something indescribable, a sense of apprehension rolling off of her in thick waves. 

╰➤ “Um,” Her words drag and her eyes dart away from you. They settle on an empty space between you and the nearby wall. Her body is completely rigid, as if the floor will give out at any moment. “Would you ever want to hang out?”

╰➤ Your heart crawls up the walls of your esophagus, beating with all of it’s might.

╰➤ You shift your feet, then tug at your fingers.

╰➤ “Like, outside of work?” She clarifies. She dodges your eyes, settling on the other details of you instead; like your restless feet and your fidgeting hands.

╰➤ “You’d want to do that?”

╰➤ “Well,” She gives you a sidelong glance. “I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't.”

╰➤ Your internal debate resolves and your smile stretches wide—so wide that you think your cheeks are becoming sore.

 ╰➤ “Oh,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, so you have to clear your throat. “Okay. Well, I want to also.”

╰➤ She mirrors you and breaks into a silly grin, gap visible and nose wrinkling. 

╰➤ “Just let me know when,” You add. “And I’ll be down.” 

╰➤ “How about Saturday?”

╰➤ “Um—wow. I didn't know you meant so soon. Will Kai be okay with you choosing the day on their behalf?”

╰➤ Her eyebrows shoot up. “Kai?” 

╰➤ “Yeah, have you even asked if…” Oh.

╰➤ Oh.

╰➤ Your gut ignites at the revelation.

╰➤ The greys in her irises darken an alluring shade. 

╰➤ “Okay,” You nod, understanding completely now. She doesn't need to say anything more for you to realize the full weight of her offer.

╰➤ God.

╰➤ Oh God.

╰➤ You've dreamt about this moment for months but you never thought it’d actually come true.

╰➤ “Okay,” She parrots. “It's a date, then?”

╰➤ Your toes curl inside your shoes. Nodding enthusiastically, you confirm, “Definitely.”

╰➤  You never are the type to enjoy the action of driving cars.

╰➤ It’s mostly to do with the fact that your life could very well be in someone else’s hands. The likelihood of surviving another day without being in a car accident feels like sheer luck sometimes. 

╰➤ But your road anxiety is heightened even more as you brave the heavy city traffic, trying not to pee your pants at the idea of being near Sevika in less than an hour.

╰➤ You exhale, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel restlessly. Why is this taking so long?

╰➤ After ages of waiting, you’re finally able to get to the other side of town. It’s quieter here and far less busy. Sevika texted you the suggestion this morning and you immediately agreed–the quieter, the better.

╰➤ But your heart stops when you find yourself parked in front of a towering brownstone building, with multi-story terraces and sleek black protective gates. The streets are nearly empty and the distant chirp of birds fill the air.

╰➤ Your lips are pulling into a frown when you look at your phone screen, reading, You have arrived at your destination for the nth time.

╰➤ Swiping away from the GPS app, you allow your thumbs to click on Sevika’s contact number. 

╰➤ Two rings sound before she answers, “Hello?”

╰➤ “Hi–” You crane your neck to look out of your window. “I think I‘m here? I’m not sure where your place exactly is though...”

╰➤ You hear shuffling on the other line along with the soft hum of music. Then you see movement from a window on the second floor. Curtains are pushed aside and a familiar figure comes into view. The sliding glass of the terrace door is pushed open, and she’s sticking her head out, scanning the row of cars lined up along the street. 

╰➤ “Oh,” You breathe, heart stuttering. “Nevermind. I see you.”

╰➤ You remain seated in your car, like an idiot, while her eyes lock with yours.

╰➤ Then she grins, which is a heartbreakingly beautiful thing to witness. 

╰➤ “Sorry for being late,” You rasp into the receiver, eyes never leaving hers. “I got stuck in traffic.”

╰➤ “You’re two minutes late, sweetheart.” Her voice is thick with amusement. “That’s hardly anything to fuss about.”

╰➤ The following stretch of nothing is almost too painful to bear. Something is holding you back from stepping out of the car. Whether it be fear or nerves, you can’t really tell. All you know is that this feels like uncharted territory. 

╰➤ “I’ll come down and get you,” She says. You nod. She disappears into her apartment and the line goes dead.

╰➤ The air of Sevika’s apartment smells overwhelmingly like her: woodsy with a hint of apple cinnamon. Your shoes click against the floorboard when she guides you through the doorway, knuckles brushing against your forearm and leaving a fire in its wake. 

╰➤ “This is me.” Her voice is soft around the lock of the deadbolt and chain guard. There’s a lowly dimmed lamp hanging from the ceiling, a coat rack placed in the corner and a sitting bench to your left.  She looks over slowly–hesitantly; as if she’s trying to gauge your reaction.

╰➤ You find yourself swallowing thickly as you’re smacked with another smell of her. 

╰➤ When you don’t respond, she toes out of her shoes, movements quiet and swift. Silently, you follow her lead. She gathers your boots with hers and positions them underneath the sitting bench. 

╰➤ “This way,” She mumbles. You allow her to side-step, walking down the hall and toward a connecting room, where you faintly see a burgundy living room set. The walk down the corridor almost feels too quick, since you keep getting distracted by the countless art and picture frames lined up on her wall. You realize that the walls appear to be so decorated that you don’t see much of the paint. 

╰➤ Her living room appears to be similar, littered with different pieces of art and photographs that you could stare at for hours if given the chance. The atmosphere is tranquil but the furniture and color scheme is deliberate and poised. The ceiling is much higher than yours and the windows are fairly large. Much of the interior is splashed with dark velvety hues of red and purple. 

╰➤ Two brimming bookshelves stretch to the ceiling, lined with countless collections of CDs and novels. The brick fireplace is already lit and emmenates a warm glow around the room. Sevika’s gaze is clear and level when you peer at her. And her eyebrows lift inquisitively. 

╰➤ “It’s…” Your voice cracks, causing you to clear your throat. “This is really nice.” 

╰➤ Her head is tilted, eyes squinting ever-so-slightly with a nature that is purely meditative; as if she’s trying to pick out any signs of dishonesty. The burning sensation of her dissection is potent. Your mouth pools with saliva as the seconds tick by.

╰➤ A low whistle escapes you as you try to compensate for the tension. “Why so quiet?” Your legs shuffle.

╰➤ She licks her lips and hums. “Just trying to make sure this is okay.”

╰➤ “What?” Your eyebrows are furrowing.

╰➤ She gestures at your surroundings, “This. My home—at least, that you’re comfortable being here. If you prefer to spend time in a more public place, then…”

╰➤ “Oh.” Your features relax. She’s trying to be polite. “No. This is fine, Sev. I’m always comfortable around you.” You wipe your sweaty palms against the material of your pants. 

╰➤ Her eyes follow the movement of your hands, before they linger on the lower half of your body for the tenth of a second while her jaw flexes. You gaze at her with growing anticipation due to the dead silence. She takes a long inhale through her nose, refocusing her attention back to your eyes with what seems like a great deal of concentration. 

╰➤ A shaky smile spreads across your lips. You travel over to one of the nearby bookshelves, which holds a CD player that’s currently playing a smooth jazz solo. You have to find something to do—anything—other than stand there and grow lustful under her pressing gaze. 

╰➤ “You have quite a collection,” You begin.

╰➤ Your back is turned to her as you look through the cases that are neatly stacked together. Despite being covered with clothing, the skin of your back grows hot, as if her gaze is seeping straight through the material of your shirt.

╰➤ “A lot of them were my parents. They loved collecting music.”

╰➤ You don't have the heart or gall to mention the past-tense reference of her parents. Instead, you nod. 

╰➤ You feel like you're hypervigilant to everything about her in that moment. The sound of her weight traveling across the carpet becomes heightened, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand when you see her shadow appearing out of the corner of your eye. When you look towards your left, you struggle to contain the zoo that rips through your stomach. She's close. Very close.

╰➤ Her shoulders brush against yours while she reaches across you to turn down the stereo. "You can pick something else if you want," Her voice dips into something low and syrupy. "I don't know what type of music you like." Then she's walking away. Your eyes follow her as she disappears into another room. "Are you thirsty?"

╰➤ "I'll listen to practically anything as long as it's not country." You shuffle through the CD's, stopping when a particular one catches your eye. A classic. "What do you have?"

╰➤ Once you've replaced the CD with one of your choice, you mosey into the other room to join her. It's a kitchen, fairly minimalist compared to the living room, and painted with nearly all black decor. The sight of Sevika standing there is unfamiliar. Her hair is tied up in a half up half down, small tendrils escaping and brushing against the sides of her face. Her nose is wrinkled, eyes squinted and lip rolled inwards.

╰➤ She leans most of her weight onto her hands, which are resting on the surface of the kitchen island. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, and attention is focused acutely on a book that's sitting on the counter. Something savory wafts in the air and you spy a stove behind her that seems to be emanating an exceptional amount of warmth.

╰➤ "Um," you mumble. "Is everything okay?"

╰➤ Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, at first holding something distant, before they cloud over with an undeniable light. Her hands tighten into fists, pressing against the marble countertop before she relaxes them. Then she's standing upright, one arm falling to her side while the other rubs against her forehead. "I'm..." Her words trail off as she glances at the watch on her wrist. "Fuck."

╰➤ Then she's whipping around, opening the oven door. A small cloud of smoke appears.

╰➤ "What are you cooking?" You close the distance between the two of you, swiping through the smoke before peering into the oven.

╰➤ "Nothing anymore." She sighs. "It was supposed to be—"

╰➤ "Lasagna."

╰➤ You reach for the oven mitts sitting on the nearby countertop, slipping them on before grabbing the deep-dish pan.

╰➤ "I noticed you have it a lot." She continues. "I just thought—since you seem to like it..."

╰➤ You set it on the hot pads, inspecting the top layer of the pasta dish.

╰➤ "Actually, it doesn't look too bad." You say. "It'll have to go back in, and we'll need to turn the heat down to 375, so that it cooks all the way through the layers without scorchi—"

╰➤ That's when it hits you.

╰➤ "Wait," You abruptly right yourself, snapping your head towards her. She's already watching you, drinking in everything you were saying. Her eyebrows raise at your outburst. Hands still covered in mittens, you're stepping around her, doing a double take at the book that's still open on the kitchen island. "Is that a cookbook?"

╰➤ She doesn't immediately respond.

╰➤ When you crane you neck to get a better look, you're barely registering the words Classic Homemade Lasagna Recipe before her large hand abruptly lands on the book with a loud smack! Her fingers are outstretched, keeping you from being able to see majority of what's written. But it's too late, your assumption has already been proven right.

╰➤ The book is shut before you can say anything else. She opens an overhead cupboard, sliding it in there with one quick motion.

╰➤ "Oh my god," You fight off a wave of giggles, lips stretching into a wide grin. "That was definitely a cookbook."

╰➤ She brushes a few loose hairs out of her face and chooses to avoid your gaze.

╰➤ The stillness that follows is nearly unbearable. In the distance, you hear the current song from the CD player fading out. A car is honking from the street outside and the buzz of the AC comes on. You're still turned towards her, hands covered by her oven mitts and cheeks aching from the smile on your face. She continues to dodge you; resolute.

╰➤ You can't contain your laughter anymore. It's bellows out of you like a songbird breaking free from its cage. That seems to finally draw her attention, and wills her to glance at you. Upon locking eyes, slowly, she smiles an equally warm grin.

╰➤ And just like that, the elastic band of tension that existed all evening snaps.

╰➤ Her laughter quickly follows yours, deeper and soothing and just as beautiful as the last time you heard it. Her rigid stance melts away and her fingers relax.

╰➤ "Sev, why—" You wet your lips. "You didn't have to go out of your way to a get recipe and make this. I would have been fine with take-out."

╰➤ "Kai sent me the link to the cookbook yesterday and I figured why not. It was only $20," She rolls her eyes. "Plus it has better reviews that the lasagna recipes I was looking at online."

╰➤ The cookbook was only $20.

╰➤ Adrenaline courses through your veins from such an implication. Sevika bought a cookbook just to make one of your favorite foods. No one's ever done something like that for you before.

╰➤ No one's ever paid close enough attention to even notice your love for lasagna.

╰➤ The way Sevika always manages to nonchalantly flatter you will forever be something you struggle to fathom.

╰➤ You're biting the inside of your cheek, trying your best to contain your buzzing excitement as you place the pan back into the oven. Your back remains turned to her, stomach flipping and fingers nimble.

╰➤ "This is very kind of you to do," You find yourself muttering.

╰➤ "I mean," The sound of her body weight shifting is subtle. "It's our first date. It's the least I could do."

╰➤ "Still kind."

╰➤ You don't allow yourself to brush over one of her many kind gestures. You don't allow yourself to take any of this for granted. Sevika has been very good to you, especially in a world where people haven't been in the past. Often times, she's been more than just your friendly coworker.

╰➤ Whether she wants to admit it or not, she's the one who's actually a sweetheart.

╰➤ "Why don't you like to accept my compliments?" You inquire. You take off her oven mitts, setting them on a nearby counter-space before turning around. Droplets of perspiration trickle down your forehead and the back of your neck. You wipe them away with the palm of your hand, stepping away from the searing hot oven and towards her.

╰➤ Sevika is resting against the kitchen island, arms crossed over her chest and eyes solely fixed on you. You don't miss the way her jaw flexes as you come closer. But you choose to ignore it, positioning yourself to where your right hip is pressed against the island cupboards, just off of Sevika's left shoulder.

╰➤ "Because most of the time, I'm not doing anything extraordinary." She wrinkles her nose. "It's the bare minimum, actually."

╰➤ "Well," You almost come to a standstill as you rack your brain for an appropriate response. "I still appreciate it."

╰➤ That's when you send her a smile. Similar to an innate feeling, you expect her to return the gesture, since there's never really been a time that Sevika hasn't.

╰➤ But the seconds continue to stretch and her smile never appears.

╰➤ Her lips part and her throat bobs as she swallows thickly. You don't think you've seen her eyes look so lucid before.

╰➤ A part of you wants to be consumed by her. You want her to have you; in whatever way that would mean for her. You'd be happy with any scenario. But another part also wants you to remain present in this moment; to fully cling onto every moment that passes with you in her presence. It's a heartbreakingly beautiful conundrum to be in.

╰➤ "The bare minimum barely checks off the list. You know that, right?" Her voice is firm during this wake of silence. Assertive. Strong. But her words manage to undue something within you; something you didn't even know was tightly wound to begin with. "You deserve to receive so much more than the bare minimum from someone. And you deserve to not have to thank them for that."

╰➤ She says it with such conviction that you almost believe that she's been thinking about this for a while.

╰➤Hearing those words nearly break you.

╰➤ They're arguably obvious. But despite how much the general public likes to make instagram captions and TedTalks about it, you've never really been told this before. Not directly. Not with such certainty.

╰➤ "And," She wets her lips, eyes darting away from you for the first time. "Of course I don't want to be too full on this soon. I'd like to think cooking you one of your favorite foods would give me a good start. But there's—" She's shaking her head with creases forming in between her brows. "...a lot more that I want to offer to you other than shitty lasagna."

╰➤ You don't respond for a beat as you feel a new unspoken surge of energy igniting between you two. It's takes form as an invisible current, growing with each ticking second.

╰➤ Her attention doesn't waver, remaining clear and steady and safe. You find it hard to breathe with the careful way that she's studying you. Air pacts into your lungs at an alarming rate and your heart beats a mile a minute while your throat locks.

╰➤ Your lips part. Then, "What else are you wanting to offer?"

╰➤ You watch as she cards her fingers through her hair. There's a bounce to her silky locks that leads you to believe it's been very recently washed. If you step forward more, all you have to do is reach up to touch it. She's so close.

╰➤ Incredibly close.

╰➤ You don't know how it's happened but somewhere deep inside of you, where the abandoned and empty house of your life resided, a bright light has been ignited. Somehow, that house is no longer empty. It's no longer cold. Sevika has managed to cast an exceptional amount of life into you.

╰➤ Everything becomes watery at the revelation; her black marble countertops, her crème colored button-up, the swirling grey of her irises. It's all blurry. You struggle to blink away your welling tears.

╰➤ How typical of you to get emotional during a time like this...

╰➤ Sevika doesn't reply. She just peers at you with an expression that makes her look as if she's short circuiting. The air is warm, with the oven being heated to a scorching 375 degrees just a few feet away. It's warm and Sevika doesn't falter in managing to unravel you from her regard. It's warm, and your hands are reaching out. It's warm because it's her. She's the warmth.

╰➤ Your hands stop mid-reach, hovering in the air as she fleetingly glances at them. Your pulse thumps against the side of your neck; eyelids fluttering. "What else?" You press. A gentle nudge. A plead.

╰➤ You need to hear her say it; for the sake of confirming that everything is requited.

╰➤ She closes the rest of the distance by grabbing your hands with hers. They're larger and wrap around yours without any extra effort. The gesture is small. But it somehow still causes your legs to nearly give out. She tugs you, urging you closer. You stumble as you give into her magnetic pull. But you're too caught up in all that she is to truly feel embarrassed by it.

╰➤ "I want to offer you everything good." Sevika states it firmly; earnestly. "I don't feel that with people very often. But you," She squeezes your hands, puffing out a heavy exhale. Her breath brushes over your face, minty and enticing. "...I'd do anything to bring goodness into your life."

╰➤ "You already have." The lump in your throat explodes, almost blowing it out completely. Your voice is hoarse—thick with emotion.

╰➤ Her breathing becomes shaky and her mouth falls open. You watch as shock transforms itself onto her features.

╰➤ "Seeing you everyday in that stuffy break room...getting to know you and being able to talk to you," You continue, head bowing as you try to gather your thoughts in a way that won't overwhelm her. "Those days rest with me right here." You bring both your hands and hers to rest against your chest. "I already hold a deep tenderness for you. And it's something that's only for you. Do you know that?"

╰➤ She keenly follows your lips as you speak, leaning so closely now that her forehead grazes against yours. The movement is painstakingly subtle but it still makes your surroundings blacken. The feeling that takes over is close to a rebirth; like being pushed into the ocean by yourself and somehow resurfacing with Sevika fundamentally built into you.

╰➤ And when she kisses you, you know, down to the marrow of your bones, that this is something holy. Teeth clatter and hunger intensifies. Her hands have found solace by clinging onto the rolls of your hips, digging into you, hooking you to her. Ink becomes imprinted onto your heart, screaming—scrawling—Sevikasevikasevikasevika endlessly.

╰➤ She trembles slightly when you press against her; your hands resting against the firmness of her biceps. You reach for her further, never fully satiated, while your toes pull you upwards. Your neck cranes and your chest constricts from the way you desperately lean against her. You're chasing her—her mouth, her smell, her lips, her taste—and she welcomes you with just as much desperation.

╰➤ She's whispering, "...okay, okay," her voice a gentle echo. Her fingers curl into you, positively leaving marks. "I definitely know now."

╰➤ Sevika transforms from warmth to burning heat at that moment. You cherish the feeling.

╰➤ Somewhere, not too far away, a celestial body explodes.

╰➤ When she's lifting your shirt off of you, the burgundy color of her duvet being lit by a bright moon shining through her window, that same feeling of your world revitalizing returns.

╰➤ A mix of soft sighs and oh sweetheart and countless cresting follows. Your legs quiver and symphonies sound in your ears while she devours you as if you're her last meal.

╰➤ "Don't stop," you continuously plead, drunk off of the beautiful disaster that such a person could cause.

╰➤ She whispers into your skin, mouthing—kissing—and nipping, with a broken voice, "I won't. I promise."

╰➤ I promise.

╰➤ I promise.

╰➤ I promise.

╰➤ The headboard cracks. There's laughter, and snack breaks and savory kisses.

╰➤ And when you're lapping into her with unadulterated vehemence, giving her everything that she wants to take, you promise too.

╰➤ You'll promise everyday if she asks you to.

╰➤ You'll promise until your life expires—until the world ends. Until she decides that she doesn't want you anymore.

╰➤ Long gone are the moments of uncertainty; of hesitancy.

╰➤ After the both of you have recovered from chasing such a high, her arm remains draped over your waist, tugging you into her. She mumbles, "Stay," with a vulnerability that has you shaking your head before a beat of silence can pass.

╰➤ "Always."

╰➤ Another explosion emerges; this time larger. A supernova.

╰➤ Your lips press against her throat. She shivers. Her grip tightens. The moon shines brighter.

╰➤ Always.

[etherealising]

chapter seven | they know i believed in us last week

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!pete x fem!reader | male!oc x fem!reader |

summary: carmy struggles to deal with your absence in his life, while you finally learn to live without him.

warning(s): talk about miscarriage (no explicit details) | word miscarriage used once | implied suicidal thoughts | substance abuse | NA | AA | Al-Anon | grief | mention of pregnancy |angst | drama | semi-fluff | language | sad boi carm | baby being mature | woe is me carmy | please let me know if i missed anything |

wc: 7.3k

song rec: i'll still have me - cyn, aquilo

semi-edited/proof-read

“Carm hey, are you listening?” Natalie’s eyes flitted across Carmy’s face, his blank eyes staring directly past her. She took this moment as a chance to take in her younger brother’s ragged appearance, at first glance he looked like he normally did; exhausted. But taking the time to really study him, she knew Carmy was doing worse than he’d ever admit.

His usual textured and fluffy hair was limp against his head, the greasy quality of it proving he needed a wash. The discoloration under his eyes was the worst Nat had seen it, the deep blue-purple bruising a sign that he was getting even less sleep than he usually did. The skin of his lips was dehydrated and bitten to pieces, a tick he had as a child that gradually calmed down as he grew older. And the visible stubble on his chin was enough to know that the absence of your presence in his life was hitting him harder than anyone expected.

Her eyes caught on the chain that was haphazardly peeking out of his shirt, squinting at the newly added pendant hanging from it. Natalie didn’t have to be a genius to know whose initial hung around Carmen’s neck, the chain which was usually safely tucked into his shirt was now blatantly on show for everyone to see. Natalie had noticed it more recently since your and Carmy’s argument, though this was her first time seeing it this close. She would find him just standing in the restaurant, sometimes eyes staring into nothing as he worried the pendant between his fingers, oftentimes raising it to his lips before letting it go completely and wandering to do whatever task needed to be done.

Natalie’s concern was palpable but the discomfort in her abdomen was worse. “Have you tried talking to her?” The shaky breath she let out filtered between the two of them.

Carmen’s eyes finally snapped to hers taking in the uncomfortable expression on her face, “Sug?” He waited for Nat to focus on him. “You good?” The question hung in the air as Natalie tried to even out her breathing.

Using his sister's obvious discomfort to deflect from the conversation she was insistent on having wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but he’d rather put his sister’s well-being before being forced to think about how long it had been since he last spoke to you; he last saw you.

Carmy watched as Sug raised a closed hand to her mouth suppressing the urge to gag. “Yeah good, I’m good.” The forced smile on her lips did nothing to fool Carmy, but he wouldn’t force the issue.

“Can you uh, explain to me again how we’re doing, I spaced.” His fingers raised to run through his hair a small grimace painting his face at the grime he could feel left behind on his fingertips.

“Seven weeks out, Carm, and still so much to be done,” An exhausted sigh breathed through Natalie’s lips. The stress opening this restaurant caused felt extremely unnecessary considering her current status.

“No yeah I heard that,” Carmy nodded his head rapidly, Sug’s words slowly coming back to him. He squinted his eyes, hand scratching the grown-out stubble on his chin.  “You uh said something about the DBA getting rejected?”

“About that.” Natalie’s voice trailed off one hand pressing into her abdomen to ease the ache, “The name’s taken.”

Nat watched as Carmy processed the words, her discomfort felt like it was increasing as the seconds passed by.

“Who the fuck could’ve taken the name?” The idea perplexed Carmy. There was no chance another business could have the same name, well there was, it was just slim as hell.

Nat shrugged just as confused as Carmy “It’s been trademarked for years, whoever filed has all legal rights to the name.”

“Fuck me!” The pitch of Carmy’s voice rose along with his irritation.

Natalie’s own mumbled expletive was drowned out by Carmy’s outburst, the nauseating morning sickness she was experiencing came in an extra hard bout today.

“Yo, Sug…Sug. You sure you’re okay?” Carmy’s concern now outweighed his confusion, Nat’s weird behavior this whole morning was beginning to worry him.

“I can do this Carmy right, tell me I can do this.” Natalie’s breathing began to increase as a slight panic flooded through her. Carmy watched her with wide eyes, no idea what she could even be talking about.

“Tell me I can do it, Carm!” The wave of nausea subsided with her yell, Carmy’s hands raised in the air to divert blame.

“Fuck okay! You can do it Sug.”

“I am…completely terrified. And I’m only telling you because..I don’t know. Just-just in case.” Natalie nodded to herself as a way to provide her nerves with courage.

Carmy just stared at Natalie still not following where she was leading this conversation to.

“I really want this to be loving and good and happy,” A smile rose to Nat’s face “I just..I don’t want anyone to know…well besides Baby and now you.”

Carmy’s eyes focused on Sug’s abdomen, the pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting together in his head. The name she spoke felt like it was echoing through his ears.

“Sure” He wasn’t sure how to react to the news, he had always assumed Natalie would be the first of the siblings to start a family. And as the years passed by he knew it was a desire he himself had.

“I really don’t want Richie to know. Because somehow, it feels more in my control when and who knows…” The sound of the wall falling caused Nat to raise her voice as she finished her sentence. “That I’m pregnant.” Her final words were spoken just loud enough to alert the crew to her news.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” The sound of Richie’s shout grated on Nat’s nerves, but the quiet congratulations helped to ease her ire a bit.

Carmy was happy for Sugar, but it felt like it was setback after setback for the restaurant and all the personal issues he was dealing with weren't helping his stress. He felt his shoulders sag a bit mind racing as to how the name could already be trademarked, or who would’ve trademarked it.

His eyes found Richie’s as the man cajoled about how he knew Natalie was pregnant this whole time. Had Richie told someone the name and they took it for themselves? Did Mikey somehow trademark it while on a bender? The thought made Carmy’s head hurt what the fuck even was the point of opening this restaurant if they couldn’t use the name. The name was the epitome of the restaurant.

If you were here Carmy knew you would've given him an analogy for how he was feeling, you would’ve told him he was like Atlas holding up the sky or whatever he did. He shook his head trying to rid himself of thoughts of you, it wasn’t helping him in the least.

As much as he’d rather not converse with Richie, he needed to get to the bottom of this trademark business.

“Yo, Cousin!” The words felt wrong escaping Carmy’s lips the two men avoided each other in the same way you avoided Carmen.

The agitation on Richie’s face was instant, Carmy knew he fucked up with you, but the cold shoulder he was getting from Richie felt unnecessary.

Nat watched as the two men locked eyes, not too keen on playing referee for these two again. She looked in Carmy’s direction as Richie began making his way over, trying to gauge what was going through her little brother's mind.

“Carmen,” Richie nodded in acknowledgment to Carmy. Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t purposefully using Carmy’s government name to rile him up, he knew how much Carmy hated it when you did it, and since you weren’t here someone had to uphold the tradition.

Carmy felt his eye twitch Richie’s immaturity since the argument with you felt never-ending. “Did Mikey ever trademark the name?”

Richie frowned looking between him and Nat the assumption that he had any goddamn clue laughable “What the fuck did Mikey look like trademarking shit? Wasn’t I just slangin’ crack to keep the lights on?”

Carmy’s eyes shut as Nat let out a quiet gasp, watching as Richie raised his hands in defense. Maybe running a back alley drug ring wasn’t the best for business, but without it, they may not have been in this moment renovating the restaurant.

“Well someone fucking trademarked it, Richie.” The attitude Carmy was catching was wholly unwelcome.

“I don’t like your tone, Carmen,” Richie matched Carmy’s energy giving him what he was getting. “All I’m sayin’ is Mikey didn’t trademark it whoever did might…I dunno hypothetically deserve an apology in return for said documents.”

Carmy was at his wits end with the older man “Oh so you’re the fucking Riddler now.”

“Baby trademarked the name?” Nat’s voice traveled between the trio at the same time as Carmen’s snarky remark. Carmy’s head shot to her, confused as to how she concluded you had anything to do with the conversation at hand.

“Bingo!” Richie’s hands came together in a loud clap Sydney rolled her eyes at the obnoxious man before looking over the various work orders. “She did that shit years ago and gave it to Mikey as a present, he…left it for her when he passed.”

A quiet fell over their small group, each of them taking in the gesture. Richie had only become privy to the present when he went through the office to try and make sense of what the hell Mikey was doing to keep the business up and running. He had knocked a framed picture of your group off the desk cleaning up the mess only to find the folded trademark document in the back of the broken picture frame.

Your name was haphazardly scribbled into the back of it.

Carmen’s chest heaved as he let the news wash over him, it seemed since the two of you had your falling out the universe was continuously pushing him to interact with you. He raised his hand to his face, rubbing it up and down as he added another item to the long list of things going wrong with the restaurant.

In a way, learning that you were responsible for trademarking the name made Carmy’s chest feel warm. It felt like you wanted this for Mikey just as much as he did, the two of you both supporting Mikey in ways the other never knew. It also gave him an excuse to speak with you, not that he needed one. If he was a better man he would’ve already worked up the courage to reach out to you. He could feel a headache coming on the more he thought about trying to fix things with you.

Carmen was sure he’d figure things out soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could figure things out with you not by his side. Which he would admit was quite ironic considering all the times he had willingly pushed you away. But being pushed away by you had proven to him just how badly he was screwing things up with you, to hear you be so upset by his actions he basically forced you into confessing your love stung him to his core.

Carmy wasn’t exactly sure what love was supposed to feel like, but he was almost positive it wasn’t this. The ache in his chest from not being around you, looking for you in every crowd he was in. Soaking up any conversation your name was mentioned in. Maybe he did know what love was supposed to feel like, because for all the time he had been in love with you, he had never once felt so completely and utterly broken as he had been since not fighting for your love a year ago like he should have.

“That was Nat,” you looked up as Pete returned to the table, a smile growing on your face at how happy he looked to have been speaking with his wife. “Cat’s out of the bag! Our pregnancy is no longer top secret!”

Pete’s excitement was contagious, your smile growing wider at his pure joy. “Our pregnancy?” You chuckled never having heard anyone refer to it as if the pregnancy was shared.

You watched as Pete sipped the water in front of him, a signature goofy smile back on his face. “Of course! I mean yeah Nat is carrying the baby, but I’m just as pregnant as she is.” You gave Pete a confused look, a laugh bubbling out of you.

“You laugh now Baby, but I’m serious.” Pete paused as the waiter brought out the bread for your table, both of you quickly thanking them. “Nat’s my partner you know? And I’m so grateful for her providing me the opportunity to be a father. Allowing me to build with her, for us to come together and bring a child into this world, it’s a beautiful thing I love her ya know.”

The sheen in Pete’s eyes was enough to make you emotional you didn’t need to hear his explanation to know how much Pete loved Natalie, you could just see it in the way he looked at her, in the way his face would light up when anyone would mention her name or ask about her.

“I’m happy that Nat has someone like you to build a life with.” Both you and Pete shared misty-eyed smiles, chuckles leaving each of you at how emotional the small things made both of you.

“Looks like that dinner you were planning just turned into a full-blown baby shower!” The loud clap Pete’s hands made startled you. “Wow, it really will be a Baby shower!”

You watched as Pete laughed at his own pun, doing your best not to laugh along with him and encourage his bad jokes. The relationship you developed with Pete was a bit weird in the beginning, you weren’t the most open to the idea, and it’s not because you didn’t like Pete, it just felt like you were replacing Mikey.

It took a while before you could look at Pete and realize he wasn’t trying to replace Mikey’s role in your life, and that the drugs and paranoia had driven you to that conclusion. Pete was a great man, standing by Natalie’s side while she fought to keep you alive. Probably being more accepting than someone else may have been when he and Nat decided to help you. Pete and Natalie both put aside their own lives to help you get better, and get back on your feet, and while part of you wished Mikey was around to ground you as well, Pete’s love and kindness didn’t deserve to be taken for granted.

“That dinner was supposed to be a surprise for you too Peter,” you shot him a tiny glare before reaching for some bread. “I just wanted you both to have a nice night off together, no stress.” The reservation had already been made, but thinking about Pete’s words and the excitement when explaining most everyone knew about the pregnancy, maybe it would have been best for an intimate shower for the two soon-to-be parents.

Pete was definitely a family guy and Natalie came from a big family, maybe a shower would be for the best. Surround them with people who loved and supported them and just allow everyone to bask in the happiness the joyous news brought, you were sure everyone could use a break.

“Okay hypothetically say I put together a small shower for the two of you, is that even something Nat would want?” Sure you knew Nat but Pete was her husband and this was their moment, you didn’t want to ambush her with a party she never wanted.

You watched Pete bristle a little, a nervous smile raised to his lips, “I uh I’m not sure if Nat ever told you but she kinda had this…this whole dream about the two of you,” you frowned confused at what Pete was talking about.

“Well not like an unconscious sleeping dream, more like a-an idea?” Pete’s voice rose at the end of his sentence, not sure if the question in his tone was meant for you or him.

“Pete bud you lost me.” You gave him a small nod of encouragement awaiting his response.

“Um so…after your uh…loss,” a sad smile rose to Pete’s lips, you could see the apology in his eyes. “Nat she uh…she confided in me about how she always wanted to be the one to throw you a shower if you ever decided to have children. And if-when we had our own she’d want you to be in charge of hers…if you wanted to not like she would force you.” The nervous huff of laughter from Pete hung in the air for a minute.

The admission perplexed you, Nat had never brought this up to you directly and maybe it was because she felt like she couldn’t. You weren’t the most open when it came to the topic of your miscarriage always avoiding the conversation whenever Nat tried to breach it.

“Baby…you’re the closest thing Natalie has to a sister. I can promise she would be ecstatic no matter what decision you choose.”

You nodded, the motion happened unconsciously as you tried to take in everything Pete had laid on you. Of course, there were things Nat wouldn’t share with you, but while the two of you were like sisters you didn’t expect her to share every little detail with you. As you let Pete’s words digest you couldn’t help the warm feeling beginning to flood through your body, if you were being honest you weren’t sure if it was the best idea to be throwing anyone a baby shower, but you also knew Natalie deserved to be celebrated, not only for the life she and Pete were creating together, but also for all the work she was doing to ensure that The Bear had a fighting chance.

“Okay,” your head continued its up-and-down motion. “Yeah okay let’s do it but I’m going to need your help, Pete.” You watched the smile on his face increase tenfold, your own wide smile spreading your lips due to how contagious Pete’s joy was.

“Anything and I mean anything Baby, I am your guy.” Pete’s giddiness warmed you even more, you didn’t think you had ever been surrounded by anyone with such a positive attitude before. In the beginning, when Natalie and Pete first began dating, his electric personality was a bit much but you found yourself always trying to make Pete feel included, especially with how off-putting the rest of the Berzatto clan could be.

And when you were recovering it was almost like you had to re-acclimate yourself to Pete’s personality. Your recovery was hard, there were some days you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get better or if you wanted oxygen to continue filling your lungs. But Pete was so positive and always looking at life and your situation with a ‘glass half full’ mentality, that his constant belief in you helped to make the hard days easier.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you readied yourself for the question you were about to ask. “Pete, do you think you could give me Carmen’s number?” You tried not to roll your eyes as you saw Pete’s own light up, you were almost positive he would be telling Nat about this topic of conversation. “Before you get any ideas, I just need it to invite him to the shower.” You raised your hands in defense hoping Pete wouldn’t look into this any more than he already was.

“No can do B, the idea train has already left the station.” His fingers drummed on the table with excitement. “But I will do you one better,” you frowned as you watched Pete pick up his phone, fingers skating across the screen before he held it up to show you. A call to Carmen already going through as Pete sent you a thumbs-up.

You looked at the screen eyes wide, the shock temporarily paralyzed for a moment. The quiet sound of the ringing between the two of you brought you back. “Pete! Hang up the phone.” Your voice was terse as you spoke trying not to draw too much attention from other patrons.

Pete laughed, “He never answers my calls anyway.” Pete’s words irritated you, but you were glad to see the call go to voicemail before Pete pressed the end call button and set his phone down.

You let out a surprised laugh, Pete had definitely been too influenced by the Berzattos during his time with Natalie. The little stunt he just pulled was something you knew both Richie and Mikey would do if given the chance.

“Baby?” Your head raised eyes meeting Pete’s, “I know this may sound selfish, but I…I need you to figure out this thing between you and Carmen.” Your eyebrows furrowed the need to defend yourself hitting you full force, you opened your mouth to respond but stopped as Pete raised his hand, a signal to let him continue.

“I know Baby, I know. I’ll be honest with you, as much as I love Nat’s family I think you should’ve given up on Carmen a long time ago.” Your jaw fell slack, and Pete’s eyes widened a bit. “No, no just for your own wellbeing, your peace of mind.” You began nodding as Pete explained himself better. “I just, whatever is going on between you and Carmen, it’s affecting Nat. And she won’t tell you because you deserve to feel how you feel, but with the baby and the restaurant…she doesn’t need to play "Fix it Felix” with you and Carmen right now.”

You let out a small chuckle at Pete’s explanation, over the years he had begun expressing himself to you more. You being the only one on Natalie’s side who actually gave him the time of day and willfully listened to him, helped him to gain more confidence when around the rest of the Berzattos. You reached for your glass of water, taking a long sip before setting it down.

“Thank you, Pete, for being honest,” you sighed, finger playing with the condensation on your cup. “If I’m being honest, it's easy to forget that Nat’s in the middle of everything. She’s so good at pretending it doesn’t affect her.” A rueful smile rose to your lips, as great as a friend as Natalie had been to you through everything, you weren’t sure the same could be said for yourself. “You’re right, Carmen and I are adults, we should be able to figure this out ourselves. I’ll…I’ll call him, figure things out.” You sent Pete a small smile.

Recently it felt like Natalie and Pete nursed you back to health and then for some reason became your surrogate parents. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with leaning on them, the three of you did endure a traumatic experience together so it was understandable. But maybe you had become too comfortable and relied on them too much to ‘fix’ your life. You could understand where Pete was coming from and he had every right to put his wife’s well-being before the feelings of his friends.

You knew Natalie and Pete would be amazing parents and of course, Nat’s fears were valid. But you had seen firsthand just how loving, caring, and kind the couple was, and while that wasn’t all that went into raising a child it was like a part of you just knew that their child would be in great hands.

“Enough about my poor life choices Pete, have you guys thought of any names?” The timing of the question couldn’t have been more perfect, Pete perked up at the question, eyes glazing over with excitement. A waiter stopped by your table to deliver your entrees as Pete began animatedly explaining his and Nat’s process for picking names.

A part of you ached at how happy Pete was, if things were different, maybe in another life you would’ve been able to see that excitement on another man’s face. Maybe the two of you would’ve come up with your own system for picking out names.

You listened as lunch continued, no matter how many times the thought had crossed your mind, you would always be grateful that Natalie had found a partner to love her in the ways she deserved.

 It was silent between you and Cortez as you made your second lap around the block, the church in the distance behind you. Your hands were preoccupied with a warm disposable cup of hot cocoa as Cortez gingerly sipped his choice of tea. This had become the routine for your meetings with your sponsor, the two of you would meet at the bodega a little ways away from the church that housed both AA and NA meetings. Then continue your meeting with a few circles around the block before ending at the church stairs when all was said and done.

The air was tense between the two of you, Cortez hadn’t taken kindly to your decision to skip out on the few check-ins that you had asked for. In the beginning, you were in constant contact with Cortez, feeling the match between the two of you out. As you progressed through recovery and got back into the routine of daily life the daily talks between the two of you began to dwindle as you settled into life as a recovering addict.

But after that initial meeting at The Beef, being in Carmen’s presence again, surrounding yourself with Richie and the life you once knew, the meetings with Cortez picked back up in frequency. And you were doing fine for some time, the man meeting with you when you needed it, always willing to speak with you whenever you asked and it was helpful, god was it helpful. But then you made it to step nine, step eight in the recovery program was its own monster that Cortez helped you through especially when it came to who didn’t need to be on your list.

You made the decision to text Cortez after admitting your faults to Richie. As great as it felt to finally be open with Richie and let him into your life, it also brought with it the urge to use again. Richie had been kind enough to take the bottle of champagne off your hands that night, but the desire to call Fak and ask if Theo had anything he could spare almost won out. But as you scrolled through your contacts the red icon hovering over the voicemail tab brought you back to your senses.

“So your friend Richie knows?” Your eyes shot to Cortez taking in his side profile before focusing back on their attention focused on the steaming paper cup of coffee gripped in their hands.

“Yeah, his daughter kind of spilled the beans.” You nodded playing with the frayed edges of your jeans.

“That’s a bit fucked up don’t cha think?” Cortez’s brows furrowed. “I mean how does his little girl know but he don’t that’s gotta hurt.”

You rolled your eyes, “Aren’t you supposed to like not be judgmental?” Cortez’s laugh felt like it was grating on your ears, as good a sponsor as he was, he had the personality of an annoying older brother you were happy not to have.

“It ain’t even judgment though, it’s an observation.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to know that annoying smirk was on his lips as he shrugged his shoulders.

You stopped as Cortez dropped his now empty cup in a trash bin on the street, “Didn’t know you received your inspector gadget certification.”

“That smart ass mouth is bouta be the reason you out here looking for a new sponsor,” you let out a cackle before taking a much-needed sip of your hot cocoa. “Sound like my daughter with that dumb shit.” If you didn’t know the man who was walking by your side, you would’ve thought he was actually upset, but you could tell by the uptick of his lips he didn’t take anything to heart.

The two of you rounded the corner coming up on the church. You watched as Cortez plopped his long limbs down on one of the steps, opting to sit on the railing. Cortez took out his pack of cigarettes bringing the box to his mouth and removing one before offering the box in your direction. You slipped one out a small laugh escaped you at the irony of everything, how you had once been so against the cancer sticks that those around you would make sure not to smoke around you. And then instead of indulging in a nicotine addiction, you turned to alcohol and prescription pills, the fact that you would smoke a cigarette here and there to appease your urges now felt a bit comical.

You leaned forward allowing Cortez to light your cigarette, “Man ain’t nothin’ like smoking on Big G’s doorstep.” Cortez’s voice filled the silence that had settled over the two of you, you took a drag of the cigarette, a small chuckle escaping you with the smoke.

“I used to hate these fucking things.” The disgust on your face was obvious even as the stick hung from your mouth.

“Why you take one every time I offer 'em’ then?” Cortez switched positions leaning his elbows on the step behind him as he stretched his long limbs out in front of them, offering a wave to the few people entering the church for whatever meeting was scheduled to take place.

You shrugged eyes falling to Cortez’s beat-up boots as you sucked the nicotine deep into your lungs, “They’re the same brand Mikey smoked.”

“Damn ma, that shits kinda sad.” The two of you locked eyes before small laughs left the both of you. You had been around Cortez for so long that you’d picked up on his need to turn most anything into a joke. And while in the beginning, it pissed you off, you realized that’s just who he was and that sometimes being able to laugh in serious moments or at your trauma was helpful.

“Nah seriously though better smokin’ these than messin’ with that shit that hooked you in the first place. Know what I mean?” You nodded, finishing off the cigarette in your hand before taking the second cigarette Cortez offered. You knew how these things went and had spent so much time with the man that you learned to read him. Cortez only ever smoked two cigarettes and offered you two if the conversation was gonna be a rough one.

“Where you at with them apologies?” You sighed letting the man light your cigarette one more time, allowing the fumes to warm your lungs.

You dropped from your seat on the railing, your backside had gone numb. You settled yourself to lean against the railing “I mean I told Richie the truth and there were a lot of apologies in that conversation. But I feel like he deserves a better apology.” You shrugged, your attention dropping to Cortez as he listened.

“Ima be honest wit chu, this might be the hardest part of recovery. Shit I know it was f’me admittin’ to my little girl her father was a fuckin’ junkie. But at the end of the day, you gotta remember this recovery shit is for you. If homeboy loves you like a sister like you say he does, all that should matter to him is that yo annoyin’ ass still here. A’ight, ma?” You listened, nodding along to his words. “All you can do is apologize for the shit you did, you can’t control whether people forgive you or not, and remember ain’t nobody gotta fuck with your apology if they don’t want to.”

You let Cortez’s words settle into you, to anyone else his words may not have seemed genuine but this is just who Cortez was. And you knew no matter how nonchalant he sounded he was speaking every word from his heart.

“You still fuckin with that lil dumbass boy?” The question caused you to choke on the last bit of cocoa in your cup.

“We had a falling out, he’s one of the people I have to apologize to though.” The cigarette between your fingers continued to burn. “There’s a lot I still haven’t told him…the substance abuse, the reasons behind my overdose.” An exhausted sigh pushed its way through your lips. It was like one thing after another when it came to you and Carmy.

“Listen I know we ain’t sposed to have like personal relationships and shit, but lemme know what homeboy looks like I’ll get my goons on em’ for you.” Your head fell back in laughter as Cortez raised his fist to under both of his eyes.

“No goons Cortez, please. Wait, have you ever actually put a hit on somebody before?” You obviously didn’t know Cortez as well as you would have if the two of you were friends. But it wasn’t hard to tell that he would get down if need be.

“Why someone say somethin’?” The two of you shared a laugh, the now more frequent people entering the church signifying that your time together was coming to an end.

“Aight, I gotta head in, get shit set up in there. But ima send you the info for Nar-Anon you give that shit to people who still choose to put up with yo ass. You comin' in?”

You shook your head sending him a small smile, “I came to the morning meetings today.”

You nodded in thanks as Cortez stood up, pushing yourself off the railing. You placed the cigarette between your lips leaving your hands open to do the handshake Cortez insisted you did after each meeting. When he first introduced it you were still getting used to the idea of being a recovering addict and thought he was fucking crazy. But you realized he used it as a way to break the serious desolate feeling that some of these meetings ended on, to help bring some light to what was such a dark reality.

At least that’s how he explained it to you, but you were sure he just liked doing the handshake his daughter helped him come up with.

“Ima see you when I see you ma stay straight.” You chuckled before turning on your heel to head to your parked car. Putting the bud of the cigarette out against the trash bin you passed. It was still early, enough time for you to knock out some baby shower shopping before it got too late.

Carmen stopped in his tracks, eyes finding your figure across the street. You were in front of the church that held the Al-Anon meetings he told you about. Maybe you would be attending the one he was here for, his eyes traveled to the man sitting on the steps you were talking to eyebrows furrowing as he realized the vapors leaving your mouth weren’t from your warm temperature, but instead the stick you had raised to your mouth.

“Baby?” The question left his lips in a quiet whisper, he knew it was you standing across the street but it had been a few weeks since your last interaction he was sure he had imagined you. But he would know you anywhere, by scent alone. He couldn’t help the shock at watching you smoke, something you had been so opposed to since the two of you were children. Even going so far as telling Carmy you couldn’t be friends when he smoked his first cigarette at 15, the stalemate barely lasted a day after you realized how dumb the idea was.

Carmy watched as the two of you stood up, his hopes to see you inside dwindling as he watched the two of you begin to part ways, an intricate handshake taking place before you turned to leave. He watched as your figure disappeared around the corner, a quiet ‘shit’ leaving his lips before he darted across the street trying to catch you before you were gone for good.

“Baby! Hey!” His shouts were useless, you were too far gone to have even heard him. “Fuck!” One hand raised to sit on the bill of his cap, the universe seemed like it was doing everything in its power to keep the two of you apart. Or maybe it was just the way things were meant to be.

Carmy turned to see the man you were with still standing in the same spot you left him, eyes narrowed as he took in Carmy’s figure. The man eyed Carmy for a moment longer, sending a head nod his way before turning and entering the church. Carmy was tempted to follow the man and ask about you, but whatever your relationship with the unknown man was, it was none of Carmy’s business.

He sighed eyes shooting up to the sky before taking a deep breath and making his way inside, not wanting to be late and disturb the Al-Anon meeting before it began. Carmy made his way to the room where the meeting usually took place, eyes landing on the same man from outside once more as he greeted members, the sign near the door he stood by signifying it was an NA meeting. Carmy stopped for a moment, eyes darting between the man and the sign he’d just read.

“You lost kid?” Carmy looked at the man brown furrowed as he shook his head, he sent a tight smile the man's way before walking two doors down for his own meeting. Carmen’s brain felt like it was racing a mile a minute. If you weren’t coming to the Al-Anon meeting, why were you here? And why were you talking with someone who appeared to be leading NA meetings?

The vibrating of his phone caught his attention, the device easily slipped out of his pocket. He felt the air leave his lungs as your name flashed across his screen, he realized just how indecent setting that Polaroid picture of you with his chain on might have been now that he was in public, but it’s not like he ever thought you’d call him.

How’d you even get his number?

“Carmen, hey, we’re about to start your coming?” His head shot up to one of the usual who attended these meetings and would talk to him on occasion.

“Yeah uh, just give me a minute.” Carmy gave a tight smile, eyes flashing back to his phone finger moving to swipe across the screen, the call abruptly ending before he even got the chance to hear your voice. Carmen was sure he had the worst luck in the world, a defeated sigh leaving him, he was almost positive there was no chance you were calling him back.

Quickly putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and in the safety of his jacket pocket, he entered the meeting, as much as he wanted to drop everything and fix things with you. He wasn’t even sure what you had called him for. Carmen also knew it was for the best to attend the meeting,

Carmen was sitting in his car allowing it to warm up as he waited. The skyline began to reflect the sunset, the time on the dashboard letting him know it was around dinner time. He fished his phone out of his pocket mindlessly checking the notifications he’d gotten while in the meeting.

Carmy’s brows furrowed at the flurry of messages he received from a group chat he wasn’t aware he was a part of. He frowned as he opened it, your contact is one of the many in the text chain. The only contact with a photo was yours, making you easily distinguishable, he realized the rest of the people in the chat were the restaurant crew. He scrolled through the messages eyes reading over your message with details about a baby shower, your address included.

Carmy exited out of his messages, unsure of how things were between the two of you. It had been three weeks since the argument and neither of you had tried contacting the other. But here he was with a message from you, and a missed call and he wasn’t sure how to take any of it.

He decided it was a good idea to call you back, and try and feel out the atmosphere between the two of you. His heart felt like it was stuttering in his chest as his finger hovered over his screen; you left him a voicemail. He needed to know what the message said, but a part of him was also worried he might not like what he heard, he had hurt you too many times to count, and if whatever you had to say to him broke him down more than he already was, well then he was sure he deserved it.

Carmen took one last deep breath before clicking on the voicemail and raising the phone to his ear, heart pounding in his chest as he heard the sweet whisper of your voice.

‘Hey Carmen, uh it’s me…Baby. Not sure why I introduced myself. I'm sure you know it’s me.” Carmy let out a watery chuckle at the sound of your voice, even if he hadn't saved your number the delicate timber of your voice would’ve been enough for him.

“Listen uh, I got your number for Pete. I hope you don’t mind, I know you have issues with girls actually having your number…Sorry, that was actually kind of rude. Anyway, I uh…Pete helped put things in perspective for me and I, I think we need to talk Carmen. I’m not sure when or if you even want that, but I think we both deserve a chance to explain our side of things. I um…I also have some things I think you should know. Just, if this is something you’re interested in, you have my number.” Carmen felt his heart rate slow down your words, nothing more than a piece offering.

“I just want to be clear though, um..if I don’t hear back from you, I’m going to take that as a sign. So yeah, call me back or something I guess.” The line finally went silent, your voice no longer caressing Carmy’s ears.

It felt like he was having heart palpitations but he knew it was just his nerves getting the best of him. He pulled the phone away from his ear, the time on his phone reading 5:30 p.m. Carmy quickly opened the group chat scrolling through to find your address and open it up in maps. You lived about 30 minutes from where he was, he was confident he could get there in 20 and spare the 10 minutes at a store near you.

Carmen made his decision as he set his phone down in the cup holder before beginning his journey. The ball was in his court, you had given him an olive branch and it was up to him whether he accepted it or not. He was nervous, maybe showing up at your house to cook you dinner wasn’t his most thought-out plan but he needed you desperately, needed to see you, be in your presence, and know that there was still a chance of something more between the two of you.

The hope Carmy felt when he saw you calling him earlier was now back tenfold: the pendant delicately resting against his chest felt warm. Carmen was adamant that he would admit his love for you tonight, unsure if he could go another day living with the fact that you were in love with him, but you still didn’t know just how much he had always loved you. You were so blissfully unaware that since he could remember, you had been the one and only option in his mind.

a/n: wowza, long time no see. i apologize that this is a bit of a filler chapter but it felt kinda necessary idk. anway please let me know if there are any problems with this chapter it's barely edited. enjoy : )

also also: both richard cabral as coco in mayans and manny montana as rio in good girls inspired cortez the sponsor, but head canon him as whoever you want…okay bye now 🤍

[morganas-pendragons]

Fruits Of My Labor | Aemond Targaryen

I was blasting Fruits by Paris Paloma when I wrote this and came up with this idea in the shower. This will contain MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN HOUSE OF THE DRAGON. IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILED, DO NOT READ IT. I did change two things in this as compared to Fire and Blood. 

Enjoy! I’m excited to see what you guys think. This is my first time writing for this universe other than for Jaime Lannister! 

Edit: This literally took me over a week because having a full time job is so time consuming lol 

You should have known better. You were a true born Velaryon, a daughter of the sea and a fearsome dragon rider. You were smart. Fierce. Deadly. 

But you were also a child. A child who had lost her older brother and sister and mother. 

Your cousins. Your life. 

Your family had been your livelihood for so long that you didn’t know how to live without them. Your mother’s comfort, your sisters compassion, your brothers steadfastness, your father’s loyalty. 

You’d take them in all their faults for even a moment if it took your focus off of what fueled you when they were no longer around: Your anger. 

And oh.. you were so prone to your anger. 

***

Blood and Cheese 

When word got back to you about the atrocities committed against Helaena Targaryen, you were furious. Fuming. It had been a long time since someone had been able to provoke you to such rage. 

You understood, and yet you didn’t. A son for a son. Did Rhaenyra not give any considerations to her half-sister? Aegon may be the subject of her ire, but Helaena Targaryen had done nothing to provoke being witness and victim to such levels of cruelty. 

You couldn’t imagine it. So you made Rhaenyra imagine it for you, while your mother stood in the back of the room and bore witness to the dragon fire that lay deep within you. 

  “The gall you have..” You murmur, drawing Rhaenyra and Daemon’s attention where they stand by the fireplace. “Do you realize what you just did?” 

  “They took my son.” Rhaenyra snaps, harsh and cold, the eyes of a grieving mother staring back at you. “Which is something you could not begin to fathom, seeing as how your betrothal ended so abruptly.” 

Oh. That’s wonderful. So now she’s going to use Alicent breaking off your betrothal against you as well? 

  “No, no I didn’t. But at least my children would have been legitimate,” You snarl. Daemon steps forward to intervene, as he always does when it comes to Rhaenyra, but you slamming your fist against the painted table stops him in his tracks. “Did you even consider the ramifications of this, Rhaenyra? Jahaerys was innocent!”

 “The Greens took Visenya and Lucerys from me. They killed my children. It is only fitting that retribution be paid through the loss of their own son!” 

  “Helaena will never be the same again because of what you took from her! You took your vengeance upon a girl who did not deserve it. She was sweet. Sweet, and good, and loved by the commoners. One of my dearest friends.” You jab your thumb at Rhaenyra angrily, eyes lit by the firelight of the candles around the painted table as the two of you stand off against one another. “You took her child away and ruined her. Whatever blood falls upon us now? That’s on you.” 

Rhaenyra is left to hear one final curse before you flee the room, Daemon’s hand resting upon her shoulder to prevent her from following you. 

Things are never quite the same after that. It’s only days later that Meleys is paraded through King’s Landing and your mother’s body lay broken and unmoving after the Battle of Rook’s Rest. 

There’s no one left to temper your anger. 

So, for the rest of the war, that is what fuels you. Your anger and your grief. 

If it gets the job done, who cares what it does to you? 

Anger always wins. 

***

The last time you saw Rhaenys Targaryen, she’d bid you goodbye with a kiss to your forehead and tucked her favorite cloak around your shoulders. It had always been two sizes too big.

She’d whispered affirmations about your future and how proud she was of you in your ear before she walked out the main doors of Dragonstone to Meleys.

You never saw her again.

***

She died less then 24 hours later.

Rhaenyra was the one who told you about Aemond’s involvement in it.

He’d played a hand.

He’d killed your mother.

***

You spent the days following your mothers death weeping, clutching the fabrics of your favorite cloak she often wore when you were a child in trembling fingers. You mourned her presence. Her comfort. You often wished you could join her just to be free of the Dance. 

To be free of him. 

You were a child, and children are impressionable. That was why you loved him. Even when you truly, deeply loathed him for all the pain he caused you and your family. 

  “My Lady? Are you well?” 

You don’t hear your Lady in Waiting call for you from across the room. There you sit beside the window, frail and well beyond your years, eyes cast upon the waters outside the castle while you linger inside the recesses of your own mind.

The Dance of the Dragons ended a long, long time ago. 

You are the only living survivor.  

Your memories are far more pleasant to live in because they are in all of them. Your family is not reduced to the ghosts you now know them as, but are flesh and blood and so very, very real. 

  “Forgive me, Theah... I was just remembering.” 

  “Remembering what?” 

You smile sadly. Something lingers in your eyes as you meet her gaze - she’s so young and so eager to live a life she hasn’t had the opportunity to greet yet - and you see the same lingering within her own that calls to you. It’s familiar. 

It was the same thing that drew you to Aemond. A desire for adventure, for freedom, for life. 

And well... The Dance kept you confined to your duties and kept you from being able to pursue it. 

  “Remembering a better time, sweet girl.” 

*** 

You remember it vividly. Watching from the scorched beaches while Daemon and Aemond take to the skies above Harrenhal, otherwise known as the God’s Eye, to engage in a fearsome battle neither will emerge from. You know it in your heart of hearts. 

A more innocent part of you that still lingers deep inside aches to go to him. To make him see reason, to convince him to surrender to Daemon and Rhaenyra and just... stop. 

To just let it go. The Green’s haven’t been able to do that once since the Dance started, to submit to the succession of Viserys the First would mean abdicating the throne. 

Otto would never let it stand. His lust for power and influence over Alicent had gotten Aegon the throne and plunged the realm into war over the true successor of the Iron Throne. 

The battle descending from the clouds above you is beautiful, in an incredibly tragic and devastating way. 

Daemon and Aemond are locked in a terrifying battle as they plunge from the clouds, Caraxes and Vhagar desperate to bring the other down first. You watch the dragon’s stomach be torn open. The other ripped at the throat. You can’t bring yourself to look away. These two had been friends once. 

You know there’s nothing you can do to prevent what is about to happen. They both brought it upon themselves. Aemond Targaryen brought this painful, agonizing end upon himself with his involvement in the Dance. 

Your breath catches as Daemon rises from his saddle and lunges across the gap to drive Dark Sister into Aemond’s other eye. There’s nothing you can do. You weren’t even permitted the ability to take part. 

The commoners had seen to that themselves.  They'd mercilessly killed all the dragons who remained in the dragon pit. The numbers were dwindling, growing fewer and fewer as the Dance progressed. Four had fallen. Tyraxes, Morgul, Dreamfyre, and Nightshade. 

When Rhaenyra wailed over the death of Joffery - barely a boy, thrown from Syrax for trying to flee to the dragon pit and rescue his birth right - you were simultaneously crying over the agonizing pain that seared through heart, body, and soul at the loss of your dragon. 

By that time in the Dance, you’d lost nearly everyone within the Blacks. All that remained was your father and Rhaenyra, who were at odds anyway. They had been ever since Rook’s Rest. 

Was this your curse? The last of your House, destined to outlive all the others? Is this what the fruits of your labor as the youngest child of House Velaryon had gotten you? 

It’s over before you realize it. 

This was where they fell.

***

  “What time could have been better? You spent so much of your life engaging in war. You are practically a veteran to it,” Theah absently remarks from your bedside. “I do not envy you. War is-” 

  “Debilitating. Agonizing. Crippling.. suffocating. War tore my Houses apart at the seams and took away everything and everyone I loved,” You interject. “I was thinking about when I was barely a woman grown, not longer after being betrothed to Aemond Targaryen.” 

  “Anything specific?” 

It’s always something specific with your memories with Aemond. They usually take you to the same two places: A little run down shack on the cliffs above the sea, not too far from Driftmark. 

The other is a field of endless wildflowers. 

  “The first time Aemond ever took me away on dragon back was not long after he’d claimed Vhagar. We’d disappeared in the middle of the night from the guards posted outside my door, and I’d guided him back to Driftmark to this little house my mother spent a lot of time in before she married my father. It was very out of the way.” You twist the ring on your finger as you speak, the fading memory of your mother’s face flashing in front of you as you do so. The ring is the last thing you have of Rhaenys. “We spent the night there. I told him I wanted to do it forever. That I wanted to leave behind duties and obligations to experience something I never really got to have. Not like my sister and brother did. My mother doted over me far too much.” 

  “And what was the thing you never got to have?” 

You smile wryly. “My freedom, sweet girl. As I am sure you well understand.” 

Theah goes quiet for several minutes. She was brought to you by Aegon the Third not long after the two of you had met. Once he’d read his mother’s last testament - found in her former chambers in the Red Keep after her death - and found your name written within, he’d sought you out and gave you a Lady in Waiting. It had been freedom for Theah. Being your Lady had gotten her away from the brothels. 

You’d thanked both Viserys and Aegon profusely after that. She may be the only soul left in this world sympathetic to your plight.  

You’d never anticipate them traveling from King’s Landing to Driftmark to see you.

  “Did you think it would last? Your betrothal?” Theah asks. 

 You did. Aemond didn't. He knew the Targaryen customs, he knew his duty. He knew Aegon didn’t want to marry Helaena. 

Alicent had also seen how much you meant to her son.

And that could not stand.

  “I would’ve burned down the world to hand its remains to Aemond Targaryen if he’d asked me to,” Something shifts in your gaze then, something cold and hard and unyielding that most have not seen in you before. It was something you’d only learned to embrace during the Dance of Dragons. “And then he betrayed me.” 

Theah furrows her brow in confusion. “What did he do?” 

Lucerys’ innocent face replaces that of your mother. Another soul lost to the war so many years ago, the first of many. Lucerys’ death had been what catalyzed the beginning of the Dance. 

All at Aemond’s hand.

  “He killed my sweet, innocent cousin. He killed him. Then he played a hand in killing my mother and I never forgave him for it.” You shrug. “That was the beginning of the end for something we’d never get to have anyway.” 

***

The minute Rhaenyra received news about Lucerys, you were quick to have the Maesters write a note that you would be hand delivering to Aemond yourself. You would not give him the satisfaction of being able to speak to you in person after the atrocity he’d just committed. 

Poor Luke. He was a boy. So good, so innocent, desperately trying to do his duty and do right by his mother. 

He wasn’t a warrior. He was a child. 

And Aemond had killed him anyway. 

You leave the note pierced through the center by one of your daggers inside of the shack overlooking Driftmark. When Aemond bursts through the door several hours after fleeing Storm’s End, he finds it and frantically opens the letter to reads the words written upon. 

Aemond, 

You have brought what follows the death of Lucerys upon yourself.

Kesan ilimagho līr iksin dōrī  āzma ezīmagon bisa vys.  Se kesan daor ilimagho ao skori aōha hoskagon maghagon aōha ropagon. 

He swallows the knot in his throat and presses his forehead to the paper.

I will not mourn that which was never born into this world. And I will not mourn you when your pride brings your fall. 

Aemond wishes he was brave enough to tell you like he did in this little house on the cliffs all those years ago. 

But just like the dreams of things that will never come to pass, his harbored desires for you die as he flees the cliffsides to Vhagar. 

The house on the cliffs is never occupied again. 

***

You know when you do find what little remains of him that this is what he wrought. There was nothing to be done. 

Nothing, you think, as you remove Dark Sister from Aemond’s other eye and throw it into the water. 

You don’t unchain him. His body will be found years later still confined to the chains that held him to Vhagar’s saddle. 

It’s... quite fitting, really. Aemond Targaryen - the one who sought freedom - dying confined to both his physical and metaphorical chains made quite a lot of sense. 

The thought of it almost made you smile, despite the tightness in your chest. 

You had wept profusely for your mother. For Laenor, for Laena. You refuse to give Aemond that same satisfaction, despite that part of you from your childhood that still wants to chase him forever. 

The childlike spirits of you and Aemond Targaryen run far away together in a field of wildflowers. Far away from war, from pain and suffering, and.. happy. You’re happy. 

Oh how you wish you could be there. 

You grimace and bend down to cup water in your hands. The air is thick with smoke and difficult to breathe in, but you’re more focused about keeping yourself together then falling apart as realization falls upon you. 

Aemond is dead. 

You should be fine with it. He hurt you irreparably. 

So why does looking at him hurt? Why does thinking about all the things you should’ve gotten to do, to be - as his wife, Aemond would’ve let you be anything you wanted if it meant you were free of your duties and obligations as a Velaryon - cut deeper then the sharpest knife? 

   “I would’ve brought this entire country to its knees for you,” You murmur. The water at your feet is tinged red now. The dragons corpses had been settled in it long enough to stain it red. “But you never could have done the same thing for me.” 

It will be quite some time before either is pulled from the water. You are quick to leave - unable to do so on dragon back, since almost all the dragons have been killed by now - by horseback to Driftmark. You and your father are the last Velaryons, and he had made it clear you were to not be directly involved on the fronts of the war anymore. 

It didn’t mean you wouldn’t send Alicent a parting gift first. 

***

  “Were you there when the Dowager Queen died?” 

  “Oh no, but I sent my regards. She got what she deserved. You reap what you sow.”

The regard in question: Aemond’s sapphire eye, taken out with your own fingers, and his sword - both recovered from the body that you left chained to Vhagar. 

You hadn’t been present for most of what happened after the God’s Eye. You’d gone straight back to your father in Driftmark, where he forced you to remain until the end of the war. Corlys was not about to let anything else happen to his family like it had Baela, Rhaena, Rhaenys, Laena and Laenor. 

He’d pass peacefully in his sleep some years later. 

When Alicent Hightower died around the same time, you lit a single candle and placed it in your window. You didn’t mourn her. You hoped she was suffering the same way she’d allowed you and your family to suffer. 

The flame flickered out, and the last of House Velaryon stood. 

*** 

Someone else has entered the room. You’re not sure who, given that your chambers are mostly off limits, and Driftmark is scarcely occupied these days. You pay no mind to it when Theah stands in the midst of your conversation to go and greet your guests. They must be important if your guards let them pass. 

It was only recently that you’d been declared unfit to rule Driftmark. It was never supposed to be yours anyways, but with the lack of heirs and the death of your House, it had gone to you anyway. 

With your passing would also be the end of House Velaryon, never to be remembered as anything other than the House dragged into the darkness with House Targaryen after effectively tearing each other apart. 

  “My dearest one,” Your eyes snap open. It’s been so long since you’ve heard that voice. “The years have been kind to you. You look peaceful.” 

  “The years kept me from you, Mother.” You whisper. “Especially when I needed you most.” 

Rhaenys is the one you keep seeing, both in your waking and dreaming moments. It’s cruel. It’s cruel knowing she’s the only family member to appear to you when so many others could be the the ones to guide you home. Out of this darkness and into the waking light. 

It would be so much better where you were going. 

  “I have waited so long for you to come home to your family.” Rhaenys murmurs, and you find yourself unintentionally leaning outward in search of her touch when her hands extends toward you. “I’m sorry to have left you behind.” 

It didn’t matter. You had sought vengeance for your mother’s death once and for all when the list of living Targaryens dwindled and left so few alive. 

No one ever did find out who poisoned Aegon the Usurper. 

In the corner, Theah stands frozen at the sight of who lingers in the doorway. “Your Grace,” She murmurs in shock, clearly unsure of what to do. “This is a most unexpected surprise. For both Targaryen brothers to be here-” 

Aegon the Younger holds up a hand. He’d only just recently been granted the time to read his mother’s last testament. After being present at the time of her death, it had taken decades for him to gather the courage to even go near the document she’d left behind for her sons. 

That was why he’d let Viserys read it first. That was what led them here. 

  “My Hand and I have come to express our thanks to the last Lady of House Velaryon,” Aegon remarks. “As our mother had asked of us. According to her last testament, she is also the last survivor of the Dance of Dragons who fought on the front lines of the war. We wish to extend our gratitude for all she's done since.” 

Behind her stands Rhaenyra. She’s the same age as she was when she was killed by Aegon, wearing your favorite hairstyle and dress that you’d thought always complimented her so well. You want to think her stare of longing is directed at you. 

It’s not. 

She’s looking at her sons. 

  “My boys. My beautiful boys,” She whispers, coming to stand beside Rhaenys. “Tell them I’m proud of them.” 

So you do. You tell Viserys and Aegon that you can see their mother, as clear as the last time you ever saw her, and that she is sorry for all the suffering they endured during The Dance of Dragons. That she’s proud of who they became and how they honor their family. 

You miss the single tear that falls down both faces at the confession. 

*** 

  “It’s coming.” Viserys the Second murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest as both he and Theah watch you from the side of the room. Aegon is quietly murmuring to you from your bedside. Ever since you’d told the brothers that their mother was proud of them, Viserys had known deep within him that you were not long for this world. 

  “What?” 

  “The end.” 

Aegon feigns a warm smile as he squeezes your hand. “Our mother spoke highly of you, My Lady,” He whispers. “I hope now that you can find some peace of mind.” 

You don’t answer him. You’re too busy reaching, reaching, reaching for your mother’s hand that you’ve so longed to ache for the last several decades that have passed since the end of the Dance. 

  “My love.” A whisper echoes in your ear as you sigh softly, the rise and fall of your chest slowing as Aemond slowly appears in your peripheral. He’s still the same age he was when he died. “Come home to us. Let me make it right.” 

A single tear rolled down your cheek.

  “Can we go to the wildflowers?” You whisper. “And the cliffside overlooking the ocean?” 

  “It’s beautiful here. There’s no pain. No pain, anger, no blood, no suffering... No obligations to our duties.” Aemond extends his hand. “Your mother is waiting for you in the house on the cliffside. A field of wildflowers awaits us. There’s so many to choose from. Come home.” 

  “Aemond...” 

  “I’m ready to love you the way you always desired. I just never knew how. I do now. And I regret every moment that has passed since I cast you aside.” His eye softens. There’s something about him that just seems... gentler. It’s an odd contrast to how you knew him when he was alive. “Come home.” 

Hm. You’d thought that the fruits of your labors over the last decades had rotted and died, leaving you with nothing. No legacy, no heirs, no one left to remember your name. There had been no point to all the fighting for you because you’d lost anyway. There was never a war to be won because it was always going to be lost. 

The Dance of Dragons had effectively torn apart House Targaryen at the seams. 

Maybe your fruits were ripe and you just didn’t know it. You know that all the people you love are waiting for you. That the current king on the Iron Throne knows you well - because his mother had taken careful care to write about you in her last testament - and his brother holds you in high regard. That your Lady in Waiting knows your story and all the horrors that fall upon it. About how you endured and survived, how resilient you became, how you spent the rest of your days ensuring people would not forget the name Velaryon. 

Your last wish for Westeros was to make sure people remembered. Not your name, but your mothers name. Your fathers name. 

They deserved the credit and legacy far, far more than their headstrong daughter driven by the anger that came from duty. 

  “I’m coming, Mother.” You whisper once again, eyes falling closed. “I’m coming, My Love.” 

Your hand falls limp in Aegon’s. No one will admit it, but something dies in both of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s sons that day. They’d had so much still to learn about the mother they barely remembered. To have someone who knew her first hand and had cared deeply for her had prompted them to pursue a relationship with the Heir to Driftmark. 

You knew their story, their mother, better than they ever would. 

   “The Realm has lost quite a woman today,” Viserys murmurs, swallowing the knot in his throat as he presses his hands to Aegon’s shoulders. Theah can’t help but shift uncomfortably. She feels like she’s intruding on a private moment she cannot comprehend. “May the Seven bring her the peace she was never able to find in this world.” 

When the Silent Sisters tend to your body, a single crown sits upon it at completion. 

People would know the Heir of Driftmark died today. 

And so the last of the Sea Snake’s line would cease. 

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Five

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: The past seems to repeat itself and this awful memory seems to provide some much needed context to your actions.

Warnings:  All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, funerals, toxic relationships, grief, angst, strained relationships, minor injuries, arguments/yelling matches, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues, running away, addiction, interventions. This is literally just pure angst again im so sorry (not really (: ).

Word Count: 5k (sorry, she is a long one!)

A/N: I wrote this while procrastinating packing to move into my dorm LOLLL i move in a few days but im too anxious to even start packing <3 anyways this one is another heavy one and a long one too, so fun ! I hope you all enjoy because she was surprisngly difficult to write and edit bc my imposter syndrome and chronic perfectionism is out to get me ! ! Have a slay n gay day ily all ! 

Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 @jadeittic

MASTERLIST

It was a cold and cloudy day in March, fitting for a funeral. There was snow on each corner of the sidewalk, partially melted, but the cold air that made your lips burn when you stepped outside threatened more snowfall to come.

Today marked two weeks since you got the phone call that changed your entire life.

It was only two weeks after Mikey was found dead on the State Street Bridge and they already got him ready to be put into the ground. 

You stared out the window, silent, and watched the life that occurred outside. A man helped his son get out of their car, both in matching hats and scarves, a teen with a backpack passed by with their friends, laughing and jumping, a tree swayed, leaves still gone. 

“Hey, sweetheart, are you ready?”

You didn’t respond.

Your father placed his hand onto your shoulder, “Are you ready?”  

You sighed, letting your breath fog up the cold window pane in front of you. 

Most days, you sat on the only wooden dining chair that was saved from your and Mikey's apartment and looked outside the window. You noticed things you normally took for granted, like the view of snowfall during sunset and the way the trees swayed when a gust of wind blew. 

Finally, you stood up, feeling your dad's hand slip off your shoulder. You didn't bother to smooth out your black dress, letting the wrinkles set in the fabric. Meanwhile, the stockings you wore under pinched you as you moved, but you didn’t care enough to adjust them either. 

"Yea…” you responded at last, voice thick and scratchy.

Your parents mumbled quietly to each other as they locked the door, stealing not so subtle glances over to you as you stood in the middle of the path down the front door, looking at the now empty street. 

Everyone around you just seemed to keep on asking you the same question: "Are you ready to…" but you didn't know. You didn't know if you were ready to face death. But you did know that you felt no panic, sadness, guilt, fear, anger, happiness, or… anything really. 

‘I guess it’s better to feel nothing than something,’ you thought to yourself.

“Let’s get in the car now, okay?” 

You looked over to your mom, who approached you and gently grabbed your forearm, starting to lead you to your parents’ car. But you dug your heels into the ground making your mom jump as she suddenly jerked back. 

“I want… I want to drive myself.”

Your mother looked at you, eyes pleading. She then glanced at your dad, who softened and sighed. 

“Sweetie, i don’t think that is a good idea-”

“Please… i just… I need some time alone before I go in…”

Your parents shared a glance before your mom slowly loosened her grip on your arm. You slowly began to walk away from her, pulling your arm out of her grip. 

“We’ll follow you,” your dad said, voice steady but still anxious. 

You nodded and headed towards your car. The thought of being alone terrified you in general since the news of Mikey broke, but having a small moment alone in the car sounded heavenly after not being left physically alone, at all, for the past two weeks. You didn’t sleep alone, eat alone, or even shower alone; someone was always there either right next to you or right outside the door. While it was nice to have people around you during this time, you started feeling suffocated and pitied rather than supported. 

The drive was silent. You didn’t bother to turn on the radio or take off your thick coat or even play any of the cds Mikey had burned for you as teenagers like you normally did. Nothing was normal anymore anyways, so why bother?

But regardless, the silence was, in some way, comforting. It granted you the smallest bit of breathing space you knew you needed before you would face death itself.

After parking outside the funeral home, you sat in your seat. The car was off and it was silent as you sat there, not feeling particularly anything, just sort of numb. And for the first time in a while, you felt like you would be okay. It didn’t hurt anymore, just felt numb, and that seemed like progress to you. 

A knock outside your window made you jump and turn around. You expected to see your mom or your dad waiting for you, but was surprised to see Richie instead.

You cleared your throat and rolled your shoulder back, holding your head up high like you normally did, before you got out.

As you started to step out, you smiled at him, “Well don’t you look fine as a peach.”

Richie smiled softly for a brief second before it fell back down into a frown that made the wrinkles around his mouth deepen. He looked unwell, with heavy bags and a gaunt face, making him appear sick. 

While you analyzed him, he did the same for you. He scanned your face and body, seeing the way you continued to be the person he knew you as, even during a time in which nothing made sense anymore for anyone. Your shoulders were square and your head was high, making you look less like a grieving girlfriend and more like a CEO. This made him shiver. 

But regardless, he held his hand out for you to take, helping you up and out of your car. As you locked your car, he began to talk.

“Drove here alone?” he said, voice gravelly. 

“Yea… I needed to be alone.”

He nodded silently. He then took your hand, still in his own, and wrapped it around his arm. He led you to the sidewalk, toward the funeral home, steps slow and purposeful. 

“Everyone is here but you… you don’t have to talk to anyone, okay? If anyone bothers you, come to me.”

You chuckled dryly, “Thanks, but don't worry about me. I know this is hard for you too.”

Before he could retaliate to your words, you cleared your throat and walked a little faster. 

You watched as your parents, who were up ahead of you, greeted Natalie and Pete. You saw the way they moved inside after speaking to her, as if stuck in mud, around the sister of the man you loved. 

They both briefly turned back to look at you, eyes watering and drooping, before anxiously disappearing into the awaiting crowd of family members.

You paused, making Richie also pause beside you, turning to look at you. He saw the way your eyes scanned up the bricks of the building and then back down to the wilted ferns in pots next to the front doors. Your eyes, for a brief second, filled with tears, making him open his mouth before shutting it upon seeing you blink them away. 

You cleared your throat and began to move again, seemingly fine, until your heels began dragging on the pavement. So Richie silently moved his arm up to support you and looked away, staring off to the side. He didn't want you to see the way his eyes had started to tear up as he saw through your facade.

Natalie had focused her gaze on you just after your parents left, face in a permanent concerned frown that made her look more like a mother than anything else, before nodding softly to you, “Hi sweetie… are you ready?”

Were you ready?

“I just…” you began, mouth drying up the second you began to talk.

Natalie nodded at you anxiously, reaching over to take your hand in her own. The calluses she had from years of cleaning up after everyone rubbed soothingly into your own hand.

You shrugged, “...I just feel numb.”

Beside her, Pete winced. Natalie shot him a small glare before softening up as she turned back to you, “It’s okay, you're free to stay out here if you need some space, okay? Whatever it is that you need, let us know and we can help…”

Wordlessly, you rubbed your thumb into her hand and turned to look inside the hallway. A couple family members had already spotted you, their once staring gazes averting themselves from your frame as they noticed you caught them watching. Hushed voices that whispered to one another died down to either silence or near silent whispers as they stole glances at you and Richie walking inside.

You turned and gave Natalie a small smile, "Don't worry about me, are you doing ok-"

"Oh, there you are!!!!" A voice interrupted you, exclaiming loudly. 

You reeled around to the noise and made eye contact with Donna, who was pushing through the crowd and rushing forward to you. Fast.

Your eyes widened. 

Too fast. 

Her body was a blur as she approached you. 

Like a bullet.

In an instant, that moment of breathing space you had in the car disappeared and all that numbness flew out the window, being replaced by intense panic. 

The room started to spin, making your eyes widen as she stood in front of you, speaking what seemed to be gibberish. 

"Shit," Richie mumbled, but his voice was invisible to you. 

All you saw was Donna, hair wild and clothes wrinkled. Her hands moved wildly as she talked, voice so loud in your ears that it felt like your eardrums would pop.

"Mom!" Natalie yelped beside you, finally taking you out of the trance you were in by pushing her body in between you and Donna. 

Donna gasped, speaking hushed but angrily at Natalie, "Natalie, what are you doing? Don't you see I'm trying to talk to her- What do you mean I'm overwhelming her?! She's fine, if she had a problem, she would tell me, isn't that right?"

You saw her peek over Natalie's shoulder, eyes searing a hole into your face, "Right?" 

Your throat tightened. 

"Donna, how about we go ahead and sit so the services can start, okay?" Your mother had rushed over and behind Donna, putting her hands on the erratic woman’s shoulders before steering her away from you. 

Your mom cast you a concerned glance as she redirected Donna away from you, letting her blabber on and on to her about the decor being different and the beautiful flowers they got set up for the service. 

But all you did was stare back, breaths staggered and eyes focusing back only to see all eyes on you. 

Natalie let out a shuddered wheeze, taking the initiative to redirect everyone watching into the room where the services would be taking place. Slowly, their eyes turned away. 

"You ok?" Richie's voice seemed to finally register in your brain. 

You whipped your head to him, "Uhm yea… are you?"

In front of him, he saw the way you rearranged your body language back to its "normal state". Your shoulders rolled back again and your head was held high. But this time, your face was blank and did nothing to show emotion. 

Richie nods, "Let’s just, uh, wait until everyone goes in, ok?"  

You took a shallow breath and blinked your eyes, adjusting to the dim, warm lighting of the building. The entire place felt warm from the artificial fireplace on the left wall, facade made of rich brown oak. The furniture matched in wood, feeling dated but comforting, like a grandmother's house. It made the panic in your body slowly melt away, being replaced by the numb feeling again.

You looked at the yellowish-orange patterned wallpaper and brown wood trimming on the walls and snickered to yourself, catching Richie's attention.

"This place looks like a small, hole in the wall restaurant that's maintained by a family. Mikey loves this kind of family style decor…" 

Richie squeezed his eyes shut, "Yea… he does." 

You watched as everyone filed into the next room, recognizing familiar faces like Fak, cousin Michelle, and Uncle Jimmy. You continued to scan the crowd, not seeing the way Natalie nodded towards Richie, signaling him to take you inside with everyone. 

You let yourself be guided behind the crowd, watching everyone who knew Mikey sit down in the chairs that were set up. Donna was sitting in the front next to your parents, still talking. Beside her were empty seats. There was one, two, three, four, and five; one for you, Richie, Natalie, Pete, and Carmy.

Carmy.

You paused.

"Where's Carmy?" 

Richie stopped moving and grimaced. 

Next to you, Natalie linked your free arm into her own, "He uh… he might come by later." 

"Did he ever respond to any of you? I sent him a photo of the service paper but he never responded to me." 

"Uh…" Richie was seemingly at a loss for words. 

Natalie sighed and looked at Richie before responding, "He didn't to me either. Didn't pick up any of my calls."

The panic started up again, slowly swirling deep in your belly, making you suddenly start to speak at the speed of light, "What? Why? Who wouldn't come to their brother's funeral?"

Natalie gulped, voice shaking as she tried redirecting you, "Hey sweetie, how about we go inside and then wait and see if he comes-" 

"I mean, everyone tried to get in contact with him so it's not like none of us didn't try." 

"Yea, your right, but maybe he is running late and was busy-" 

"If he was running late he would've let us know, i know he would." 

The panic made your breathing pick up, making you lightheaded as you took in gulps of stuffy, warm air. It was perfumed like flowers and mothballs, making you cough lightly. 

Michelle, who was seated towards the entrance of the room, turned to you, as did a couple others, as your voice started to increase in volume. It was unbeknownst to you that you began to speak louder and louder, loud enough that people around you could overhear. 

Richie said your name, stern but still worried, "Hey, take a breath and lower your volume."

"What do you mean? I'm fine?" 

Natalie just shook her head, "This was a mistake, we shouldn't have forced her to come."

You jerked your head to her, "Natalie, it’s fine. Besides, I wanted to come." 

Her shoulders sagged, "If this is too much for you, you are free to go-" 

"Please, I'm fine!" You responded, speech getting faster and faster, "You don't have to worry about me like you're my mom." 

"I know I know, but I worry about you regardless, you're my best friend!" 

"Natalie, I'm okay I swear-" 

Richie whisper-yelled at you two, "Let's take this back out, neither of you are okay right now."

"Richie I swear I'm fine, I just want to see my dead boyfriend in his casket!" You whisper-yelled back as you stomped a foot down.

At this point, others had begun turning to look at you. Natalie flushed, noticing the stares while Richie groaned softly, taking your arm and dragging you away from the entrance and to the front door. 

"Your obviously not okay, just stand here and take some fucking breaths." Richie whispered, voice stern. 

You blinked, letting yourself get pulled like a ragdoll. You stumbled as you leaned into the doorway, feeling shame set in your body. 

That was a new feeling. 

"I'm… i'm…" you began, blinking wildly as your face flushed and your chest tightened. 

"Listen, I know this is hard but don't force yourself to do this for any one of us, okay? You can sit out here and none of us will blame you or be upset. We all have our own ways of grieving and if staying away is yours, then do it. You don't need our acceptance in order to grieve in your own way." 

The tangent Richie went on felt so out of character for him that it made you go silent as you watched him enunciate every word. Natalie trailed behind him, holding onto her body with wide eyes as she too listened to his speech, both moved and confused.

With a choked breath, you responded, "Okay, I'm sorry."

Richie's tensed shoulders and furrowed brows softened. He saw the way you looked down and away from him, body drooping. For a split second, he saw through the demeanor you had been putting on since you got out of the car and saw who you really were: the grieving love of Mikey's life, terrified of what life was going to be like moving forward without him. 

Natalie reached over and rubbed your arm, before turning to Richie, "It's starting, you can go in if you would like…" 

Richie nodded grimly, looking at the floor for a brief second before reaching forward, taking your cheeks into his hand and giving your hairline a small peck. 

"You're not alone with this… we are here." 

You looked at him, a cross of confusion and relief written all over your face, making him hold back a laugh when he noticed it. Upon hearing his laugh mixed with a cough, you chuckled softly to yourself. Natalie was the only one not laughing, but still had a small smile on her face as she watched you two. 

“God this is so weird, are you a wise old man now or something?” You joked, gently pushing Richie’s shoulder.

Richie snorted and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, “Ah it’s nothing, just something i learned… don’t think it’s gonna be this way all the time!”

The three of you smiled at one another, right up until Fak interrupted the sweet moment. 

“Hey guys… uh, the service is starting…”

Richie rocked his jaw, the smile he had disappearing from his face. He turned to Fak, annoyed already by him interrupting, “Listen man-”

Natalie loudly cleared her throat, narrowing her eyes at Richie for a second as a warning, making him trip up on his words. 

Richie coughed again and looked away, mumbling to himself about how annoying Fak was. Natalie just rolled her eyes and turned to Fak, smiling sweetly at him.

“Thank you, we’ll join you in a sec.” 

You watched them all interact with one another, some of the closest people in Mikey’s life that ended up becoming some of the closest people in your own life, but in this moment they felt so far away, emotionally and physically. The random moment of peace between you, Natalie, and Richie was fleeting and reality brought you back down to the present moment, reminding you where you were and why you were here. 

Just seconds ago it felt like a regular everyday moment where the three of you talked, waiting for Mikey to turn around the corner or come in from another room and join you, smirking like he always did. He would wrap his muscular arm around you, pulling you into his side and start to joke around with Richie. He would tap Natalie on her shoulder, acknowledging her, and bring Fak over with a laugh, joining all of you together with ease. Any annoyance and discomfort would just disappear around Mikey; he just knew what to say and what to do to bring everyone, even those with differences, together. 

But that would never happen again. 

Mikey was dead and that would never happen again. 

He would never hold you, pressing his body warmth against you, he would never kiss you, gently guiding your face with his large hand, and he would never love you, ever again. 

Your body seemed to finally catch up with the cocktail of emotions you have been feeling for the past weeks and settled on one to focus on: panic. 

It crawled up your throat, squeezing it in a way that made you feel as if any second now, you would be on the floor, clawing at the rug as you struggled to breathe. But you knew that as long as you didn’t let it overwhelm you, convince it that everything was ok, you would be fine. 

So you were going to do anything you needed to do to not let it overwhelm you again.

“Uh, you two head in, okay? I need a second alone.” you said, making them turn to you. 

With a clearing of your throat, you perked up, smiling, as if nothing that had just occurred even happened. Natalie looked at you, taken somewhat aback and concerned, but didn’t push further. Richie was the same, confused but didn’t want to say or do anything that would make you break down. 

“You sure you don’t want any of us here, we are more than happy to-” Natalie began, but you interrupted her by gently moving a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“I’m okay, I'll join you in a second. Thank you both for being here with me.” you then brought them both into a gentle embrace, speaking clearly. 

Natalie and Richie exchanged a worried glance behind your back, both struggling to put on a smile to face you when they pulled back. 

Richie began to move to the room where the service had started, “Let us know if you need anything. Text us or call us or just say our name and we will be there.” 

You nodded and shooed them playfully off, leaving yourself standing against the doorway. The doors of the room where service had started closed behind them with a dull thud, leaving you truly alone in the entryway of the funeral home.

Your shoulders and smile dropped, eyes glazing over as you did so. With your heart continuing to race in your chest, you had no choice but to start pacing back and forth. The panic was starting to become too much to control so you tried your hardest to count your breathing, desperate to get it back into control. 

“Fuck…” you whimpered to yourself, feeling tears start to well in your eyes. 

You furrowed your brows and bit your lip, hard. You didn’t want anyone to see you cry, you didn’t want to be pitied. 

Suddenly, the doors opened wide, making you gasp and jump back, cold hands reaching to wipe any tears before you turned to see who was exiting. 

Donna came stumbling out, shushing someone inside, before closing the doors behind her. She sniffed loudly, pushing away her hair from her face right as she locked eyes with you. 

She frowned, continuing to stare at you as she walked forward to where you stood with red rimmed eyes and untouched makeup. She then moved to rifle through her purse, digging for something. 

You watched her silently, feeling your bottom lip quiver as she swayed back and forth.

You continued to watch as she pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, placing the cigarette between her red painted lips and lighting it aflame. With a deep drag and smoke sigh, she finally turned away from you.

She looked outside, staring at the gray clouds and half melted snow. It was getting colder and colder as the evening progressed, making her breaths of smoke even smokier as she breathed out. 

You turned, deciding that it was better to go inside than stand awkwardly around the mother of your boyfriend, whom you didn’t have the greatest relationship with. But right as you took a step, Donna called your name.

You glanced back at her, seeing her stumbling away from you but holding an unlit cigarette out. You were frozen to the spot, unsure whether or not to grab it and join her or go inside. But she seemed to answer that for you when she spoke up.

“Come on, I know you smoke. I’ve seen you and Carmy sneak out to smoke together sometimes during family dinners.”

You winced, feeling your cheeks heat up at having your behavior noticed by the one person you didn’t want to know, but moved forward to accept it regardless. 

As you placed the cigarette on your lips, she reached forward and lit it for you. The deep drag you took filled your lungs, making the chilly air from outside feel much more bearable. 

The two of you just stood there, side by side and silent, together, smoking. 

You burned about halfway through your cigarette before Donna spoke up, making your heart stop at her words. 

“You know… my son died, so I don't know why you are acting like you're the only one who is hurting.”

She threw the stub of her cigarette on the ground and stomped it with her shiny patent leather heel. With arms crossed, she looked at you and, with a low voice, she continued, “Everyone is just flocking to you and when no one gives you attention, you just make a scene and get them all back to you.”

Your entire body went cold.

“My poor Natalie is dealing with the death of her brother and all you do is make her wait hand and foot for you.”

Upon hearing this, all the fear in your body melted away and was replaced with burning hot anger. You knew her words were bullshit, but hearing her talk about Natalie like that, knowing how she treats her, made you clench your jaw.

In a surge of bravery, you retaliated, “Donna, how can you say that?”

She scoffed, “Please, stop acting like you are an angel who has done nothing wrong. You don’t have Mikey or anyone else here to protect you.”

Your mouth drops silently open letting the cig fall from your lips and to the ground, snuffing itself. You scanned her face with your fists balling against your side, seeing nothing but a smug look on her face as she ridiculed you.

With a sharp breath, you began, “You have never treated Natalie like a daughter. You're the one who made her the maid of your family. She practically raised Carmy and does everything for everyone. You made her act like an adult ever since she was a kid and, like everyone else, I had kept quiet about it for so many years just so we wouldn’t upset you. But I'm tired of it, this is the last straw.”

Donna rolled her eyes, “Oh puh-lease-”

But you interrupted her and continued, “So don’t act like you are suddenly concerned with how she is being treated, you never cared when you yelled at her over every little thing, so don’t start now.”

Donna looked at you, dropping her arms and glaring, “I bust my ass constantly for my children, I don't need someone like YOU pretending like you know everything-.”

“Donna, I've been around you since I was in elementary school. I grew up with your kids and around you. I know EXACTLY how you are.”

She clenched her jaw, eyes narrowing. 

But you didn’t stand down, not anymore, “None of your children are saints, but they try so fucking hard to be the best they can be given they had you as a mother. But it’s not like you would ever see that, huh?”

“All Mikey ever did was stress out, because of you! He tried to self medicate with pills and drugs and got addicted, because of you!” Donna suddenly screeched, quickly trying to divert the blame onto you.

You laughed out loud, “I’ve seen him do a couple things once or twice but Mikey was not an addict!”

Donna cackled, shaking her head furiously, “He was!! Ask Richie! Ask anyone! He was an addict, all because of you!!!”

You stepped back, eyebrows furrowing, taken aback at her words. Sure, Mikey was a bit erratic and loud, but that was his personality. He was just that type of person. And yes, he had tried a couple things before and even told you about his experience with them, but he never once did them around you or even mentioned doing them multiple times. He had vices, like smoking and having some drinks, but he wasn’t an addict.

Before you can further question, the doors were pushed open and Richie came rushing out, “What is going on?!”

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when you heard Donna sob.

You flipped your head around to look at her but were greeted by a sight that made all that panic come barreling toward you again, replacing the anger. Donna was curled into herself, clutching onto her arms, with fat tears rolling down her face. Her sobs shook her body so violently that Richie rushed over and wrapped his arms around her to steady her. 

"What happened!?" Richie repeated, voice softer this time but just as worried as before. 

He looked at you with wide eyes as Donna sobbed, barely speaking through her gasps, "I tried to be the best mother for my children. I don't need you blaming me for my mistakes on the day of my son's funeral." 

As you watched her speak, your veins filled with ice. Only one phrase repeated in your head over and over as Richie looked between the two of you with wide eyes, ‘You fucked up, you need to leave. You fucked up, you need to leave. You fucked up, you need to leave. You fucked up, you need to leave.You fucked up, you need to leave…’

Richie called your name, making you look at him, "What happened?" 

Nothing came from your mouth but a strangled wheeze. You were frozen to the spot, pinned there by Donna's crying and Richie's stare. 

You fucked up, you needed to leave. 

Behind you, the door swung open again and your parents came rushing out with Natalie in tow. A couple peering eyes tried to look out from their seats inside, but the door closed on them before they could put together what was happening. 

"Mom!?" Natalie gasped out, rushing forward to Donna. 

Richie repeated what he said before, but you didn't hear his words. The only thing you could focus on was the way his eyes looked while staring at you, like you were a stranger. 

Donna continued to speak, saying something that was drowned out from your ears, replaced by silence and the deep throb of your heart beat. 

Right before your Mom could reach out to grab your arm, you spoke, "I need to leave, I need some time." 

You pulled the car keys from your jacket pocket and ran. 

[16magnolias]

Week 2 Day 1 - Lucía's Relationships: Childhood Family and Friends

For @encanto-extended-edition Week 2: Relationships!

(I realize I am late and it is no longer Day 1 but bear with me, lol)

🌟Note:  This post contains slight spoilers for an upcoming chapter (Chapter 39) of Just Your Ordinary, Everyday Miracle.  If you’re reading it and don’t want to know about José’s past until you read it in the story, skip this post for now.🌟

Family:

Father: José Hernandez 

Mother: Gabriela Hernandez - deceased

Siblings: Sofia Esperanza Rojas (sister) & Lorenzo Rojas (brother in law) 

Felipe Hernandez (brother) – deceased

Friends: Ana and Raquel

(Did I look up the pic of Tarzan's parents from the Disney movie as a reference for this drawing and for Gabriela? Yes. Yes I did. 😅)

So much of Lucía’s kindness and optimism stems from her relationships with her parents and sister and friends.

Originally from a town near Cali, Lucía’s parents Gabriela and José Hernandez fled from violence near their home and traveled from town to town for nearly a year.  They endured many hardships during their journey, but the loss of their two year old son, Felipe, was by far the worst. The eventually ended up in Alma and Pedro’s town.  They were both present the night the Encanto formed.   

José carried a lot of guilt with him about both the loss of his son and the fact that Pedro died to save them all.  José and Gabriela took several years to work through their guilt and grief as the Encanto was settled, clinging to each other and their faith to help them heal.  It wasn’t until nearly a decade later that they felt ready to try to grow their family again. Lucía was born 9 years after the Encanto formed and her sister Sofia was born 2 years after Lucía.  José and Gabriela saw their daughters as a tremendous blessing – a second chance to be parents.  They doted on their daughters and poured their hearts and lives into loving them and raising them to be kind, honest, and strong women.

Her father José, in particular, is deeply religious and devoted to his faith, and has done his best to practice what he preaches.  José Hernandez taught his daughters from a young age to love their neighbors as themselves, to share what they have, to help those in need, and to choose their words carefully, kindly, and truthfully when speaking to and about others.  As a printer in a time of unrest, he understands the power that words hold and has always taught his children to speak the truth and to use their words for good. 

Lucía’s younger sister, Sofia, is her opposite in many ways – Sofia is taller, thinner, louder, and more outspoken than her sister, and she’s also more adventurous and just generally busier, with 5 kids to raise and a stable to run. Growing up, Lucía preferred the adventures in books and stories to the adventures in the outside world. Sofia took to climbing trees and shimmying up poles at the ripe age of four. Where Lucía asked, Sofia commanded. Where Lucía hung back and observed, Sofia jumped in and took charge. Despite their differences, they’re very close, and have influenced each other’s personalities as they’ve aged. Lucía softened Sofia's bluntness and helped her sister to think before she speaks, and Sofia gave her older hermana a poke in the butt when she needed it and gave Lucía the confidence to step up and step in when needed.

Her mother Gabriela was kind and gentle and soft spoken, though she was not shy about sharing her opinions with that soft voice.  She was strict but fair. Lucía’s parents loved each other and their daughters deeply and her mother’s death when Lucía was in her early 30s hit them all hard.  Lucía was the strong one in that moment, helping her father and younger sister Sofia with their grief – so when Alejandro died, Lucía was unprepared for how deeply it affected her ability to function.

Lucía still lives with her father in the small home attached to their family shop, and he was instrumental in helping her navigate Alejandro’s death.  He is an excellent Abuelo to Josefina – to all of Sofia’s children, as well – and though he can be pedantic and borderline preachy at times, he always follows through on what he says and tries to do the right thing. Lucía regularly goes to him for advice on parenting and – once she realizes them - on her feelings about Bruno.

Friends:

Lucía’s best friends growing up were Ana (left) and Raquel (right). Ana is warm and sociable and loves to laugh.  Raquel appears cold and stand offish at first, often hiding behind dry, sarcastic comments and rarely revealing her emotions, but she truly cares about her friends and is easily hurt if she feels brushed off by them.

Ana’s family makes sweets, candy, and confectionary treats. Raquel’s family farms sugarcane.  The three grew up together and once they were old enough, were always hanging around the Rojas stables, watching Lucía’s little sister Sofia argue – and then flirt – with one of the Rojas boys, Lorenzo.  Ana was the first to marry and Lucía married Alejandro shortly after, and Raquel – while she enjoys making people squirm by flirting with them unexpectedly – has never settled down with anyone and is very content to stay that way. 

When Alejandro died, Ana and Raquel did their best to be there for Lucía, but Lucía’s grief and depression caused her to believe she was just a burden on her friends – their well-meaning questions and visits were just too hard for her.  She pushed them away and stopped responding to them when they would come to visit, choosing to stay in her room or excusing herself to ‘take care of Josefina’ until they left. She avoided them in the marketplace and at church.  Once she was recovered enough to realize what she’d done, she wanted to make amends but didn’t know where to start.

At the start of Just Your Ordinary, Everyday Miracle, Lucía still has a strong relationship with her family, but has a complicated relationship with the village.  Many people pity her, though their expression of that pity can sometimes be condescending or infantilizing. Some villagers judge her for her reaction to her husband’s death and the way she grieved; others are overly accommodating to make up for her losing her husband.  About a year after his death she began her storytimes at the shop again and began slowly reintegrating herself into society. 

Despite the pity most people regard her with, most parents in the Encanto like Lucía well enough and trust her with their children. The village generally respects her abilities and enthusiasm and trusts her intentions and it isn’t until after the miracle returns that one disgruntled parent causes a whole lot of problems for Lucía (and Bruno). 

[charmsandtealeaves]

I managed more reading than I thought this week. I also dropped the first chapter of my latest WIP. So a chunk of my free time has been spent editing.

*Read List does not include @jilymicrofics

Read This Week*:

A Love Unbegotten by Clueless anxious ghost of hayhay (I don’t know why it won’t let me tag) Complete (600), Ladies of HP, Molly/Bellatrix, Rated T

Molly steps up to fight Bellatrix, only to fall apart when all is done and dusted.

Tears of a Gryffindor by @nena-96 Complete (2k), Ladies of HP, Molly Weasley, Rated G

Molly Weasley believes she’s not worthy of being a Gryffindor after the battle of Hogwarts. She doesn’t want to cry, but even the strongest Gryffindor’s cry.

Let me make it up to you by @kay-elle-cee

Complete (3.4K), Order! Jily, Canon Compliant, Rated E

Two weeks ago, James left for a mission in the middle of the night without saying a word. Now he's is back, and Lily's not so quick to forgive.

Noctambulate by @gryffindormischief

Complete (4.5k), Jily Meet Cute, Rated T

Prompt: I somehow took the wrong backpack/suitcase from the (knight) bus, and even if this person seems to have a good taste in (books/music/clothes/embarrassing toiletries;-) , i need to find them to get my own stuff back.

Pillar of Pride by @sunshinemarauder

Complete (3.5k) Jily, mutual pining, Rated G

James Potter is proud. This, she knows. She knows his pride like the back of her hand. She knows it from flying classes and Transfiguration successes and Quidditch games and pompous hair-ruffling. James Potter masquerades behind a pillar of pride, and to witness those pillars crumble is a precious rarity.

I bend like a willow thinking of you by @thequibblah

Complete (7.4K), jily in multiple AUs, Rated T

She wanted to shake him by the shoulders, to ask him point-blank why this seemed to be the only bloody universe in which he couldn’t see how she felt about him—and the only one in which he felt nothing beyond friendship for her.

Added to the ever-expanding TBR List:

Quest for Camelot by @petalsinwoodvale

WIP, Jily Quest for Camelot AU, Rated T

All Lily has ever wanted is to be a knight, like her father, Sir Lionel. After Camelot is attacked and the magical sword Excalibur is stolen, she finds herself teaming up with James, a young blind hermit, as they embark on a quest to find the lost sword. Together, they face the threat of the evil Ruber, navigate challenges with a two-headed dragon and an ogre, and discover that they're more alike than they initially thought. Will they manage to return the sword to Arthur in time, or will they lose not only each other but also their dreams and the precious Excalibur? Based on the 1998 movie Quest for Camelot, but more plot and less singing

^ I wanna watch the film first before I read.

A little to the left by @turanga4

Complete (777), Ladies of HP, Molly Weasley, Rated T

When the Death Eaters leave them, the men re-set the wards. A possible explanation for how, exactly, Molly Weasley née Prewett went from no fighting whatsoever to, um, killing the strongest Dark witch in Britain within 30 seconds of her first joining the fray.

Lioness by @midnightstargazer

Complete (1.3k), Ladies of HP, Molly Weasley, Rated T

Everyone expected Molly Prewett to end up in Hufflepuff, but the Sorting Hat had other ideas.

We won but at what cost? By Lucigoo89

Complete (1.3k), Ladies of HP, Molly Weasley, Rated T

Molly looks at her empty table, a table that should have been full with all 7 of her children (8 with Harry) but now it's empty. She has lost Fred to death, but she had lost her other children to the ravages of grief. So she sits at her empty table as she thinks about what they lost and wonders if it was worth it. If her boy was the price worth paying for "peace."

[veeagainsttheday]

After some discussion in a gc I ranked the OFMD soundtrack choices for each season.

Season 1:

Gnossienne No. 5: I have a Pavlovian response to this song now. I hear it and a little movie reel in my mind starts up with The Kiss (Season 1 edition). 

The Chain: This was my most played song of 2022 on Spotify for a reason. The choreography: immaculate. That shot where the small boats are approaching the Revenge and it skips to the beat? Should have won an Emmy on its own. And Stede and Ed looking at each other as the music and the world fades away leaving only their love? Yeah, that’s the good shit. 

Avalanche: This music overlaying Ed’s transformation into the Kraken, the shots of Stede’s books falling into the water? “I have begun to long for you/I who have no greed/I have begun to ask for you/I who have no need/You say you've gone away from me/But I can feel you when you breathe” It takes a scene that could have been campy or funny and with the power of Leonard Cohen elevates it to the most emotionally devastating shit you’ve ever seen.

Our Prayer: It’s so brief but it’s SO good. The blissful music overlaying Stede’s smile at being known. 

Miles from Nowhere: Beautiful song, beautiful sentiment, Stede is finally, truly free of his old life and is on his way to discover what his new one will be: “I have my freedom/I can make my own rules/Oh yes, the ones that I choose”

High on a Rocky Ledge: I loved this choice as an opening and hearing it over the shot of all the flags always makes me so emotional. 

Perfect Day: I can’t believe I’ve put my dear Lou Reed so low on this list but that’s what the impeccable choices above do for me. Obviously the crucial lyrics here are, “You made me forget myself/I thought I was someone else/Someone good” and juxtaposed over Ed rowing alone and Stede returning to discomfort in a married state it’s just so much. 

The Empty Boat: I actually LOVE this choice, the lyrics are so good for Ed’s expression and feelings in this scene, but it just doesn’t feature as strongly as the others. 

Bonus shoutout to Il triello: Olivia, give him the old fuck eye!

Trailer interlude:

Because the Night: This choice made me absolutely deranged. Hearing this was when I was like oh they are going to fuck and I am somehow going to be seeing it in a few weeks on my screen. The night before the premiere I was so full of emotions that I took a drive and played this over and over again while screaming along to try to get some of them out. 

The Beautiful Ones: My brain became an endless loop of Baby baby baby for a week with Stede’s words and the cake toppers overlaid. 

Season 2:

This Woman’s Work: This is THE song of the season to me. We all wanted a reunion, we wrote something like 10,000 versions of it, I personally wrote something like 10 versions of it, and then the actual reunion was SO gorgeous and SO perfect and soundtracked by this and “all the things I should have said that I never said, all the things we should have done that we never did” and that piano and the build and and and I will never recover. 

Pygmy Love Song AND Seabird: I put these two as one because they’re the crux of Ed’s journey in this season and they work so well together thematically. First, the Impossible Birds - imagine hearing that there’s a piece of media about Blackbeard, infamous pirate, where one of his lines of dialogue is, “We’re never going back to land. We’re gonna sail, rob, raise hell, forever and ever without end” and instead of these words being delivered as a tough war cry they’re instead spoken in utter grief in a voice made nasal from tears. Taika’s delivery is so good it makes me want to eat through a brick wall (and all shout outs forever to Joel Fry for playing off him in this scene and several others). Playing in the background, its music lilting and warbling just as much as Ed’s voice? “My heart, my heart is full of love, I have nothing else.” So then a bunch of stuff happens (see the aforementioned reunion above) and we’re in episode 4 and Ed sees Buttons turn into an actual Impossible Bird, choosing to transform himself for love, and as Ed says “Fuck yeah brother, fly,” his face shining with revelation, we get, “There’s a road I know I must go/even though I tell myself that road is closed/like a lonely seabird/you’ve been away from land too long” MAGGIE PHILLIPS YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Run From Me: I was already a big Timber Timbre fan so when I read that one of their songs was in the show, I got very excited, and this did not disappoint. Its use to bookend this episode was incredible - the jilted wedding theme and the slow beginning of the song at the beginning as Ed is clearly in such a low place contrasted with the faster end of the song at the end of the episode as Ed enters this manic state during the storm - double Maggie Phillips your mind!!!

Strawberry Letter 23: The opening chords of this starting right after Ed introduces himself as the devil - just perfection. Ed’s sending 88 letters in his own way. 

Road to Moscow: This one feels like a real “I just heard it last night and if anything happened to it I would kill everyone and myself” situation. Fascinating use here because the song is about a Russian soldier witnessing the ultimately-failed German invasion of Russia in WWII - a notoriously bloody campaign with massive losses on both sides, which is of course what happens to our crew and the soldiers they encounter as well. This line gave me chills in the context of the crew fighting through the trees: “Ah, softly we move through the shadows, slip away through the trees/Crossing their lines in the mists in the fields on our hands and on our knees/And all that I ever was able to see/The fire in the air glowing red, silhouetting the smoke on the breeze”.

I Love My Baby: Perfect double use. Also further wedding foreshadowing: “Just say you love me

And we'll go to the preacherman/Just say you love me/And before him we'll stand/We'll live our lives together/As we go hand in hand.”

Baby: Can’t believe this is so low but the other ones were all so good!! 

The Times They Are A-Changing: Great use, loved that they used the Nina Simone version, it’s just not as significant to me as the others. 

Callback Gnossienne No. 5: this playing while Stede’s looking through the cabin in episode 3 made me want to lay down in the road. 

[goodluckclove]

WIP Tag Game!

Whoa tagged again by the brilliant @ivaspinoza! Check her out if you're down for what I imagine to be some intense bloodsucking existentialism!

I'll do this for all of Songbird Elegies as a whole. I'm on book two right now - Blind Trust comes out June 20th!

Read below to hear some things about the origins of the series that I haven't actually said yet and probably won't say again.

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

Funny story! I hadn't written anything tangible for months since leaving my terrible copyrighting job. I was absolutely miserable. I ended up leaving my second job because of a medication problem and spent a week in bed detoxing off of Seroquel withdrawal - bad bad don't do that if you can help it. After that I fell into recovery and just had no idea what to do with my days.

The turning point was when I sent an email going fully no-contact with my across-the-board abusive parents. They did some awful things across the course of my life and I'm still spending a good chunk of time making up for their ridiculous medical neglect. I might need throat surgery because of them. Not great! But anyways, I sent that email and wrote the first 15 pages of Blind Trust later that day, sitting on the floor while my wife took a nap on the couch. It just came out. Wife said they liked it so I just kept going.

Three months and two data losses later and the first draft was done!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I have so many Songbird Elegy playlists oh my God. It's hard to say, and the answer will change, but right now it's "Love Me, Normally" by Will Wood.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

They're all very important to me for different reasons. Scott is the one I tend to talk about the most because he captures a lot of mania and upbeat romanticism, qualities of myself that I value despite the obvious faults. Edgar is just as important, but they represent a lot of my current struggles and I'm doing a lot of healing and processing through them which is good but less - you know - fun?

Tenzin reminds me of my wife with her quiet stoicism. Katy reminds me of my older sister and everything she sacrificed to keep me and my siblings alive. She's more of a mother to me than my own mother. My sister is actually the first person to finish Blind Trust after I finished it.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Disco Elysium maybe? Griffin and Sabine - has anyone else read that? The Witcher, but specifically the novels? Requiem for a Dream for later books. Tales of the City in terms of tone and character focus. Fleet Foxes and Hoizer and early Decemberists?

Good, warm soup. If you like a bowl of good, warm soup, you will enjoy Songbird Elegies.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Definitely Edgar's arc. Their experience with their metaphorical (or are they??) inner child and the abuse they've been working to escape and recover from has been hard to look at directly. Especially once I introduced Scott's mother, who's turned into a weird mix of the maternal figure I wish I had and the one I feel I could've been if I chose that path.

Yesterday I found myself writing how I wish it went when my wife met my parents, through Scott and Edgar meeting Scott's mom. The sharing of parental pride and affection despite potential embarrassment. It's a cute scene, but there's a lot of grief in there for me. I wonder if it'll show.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Wilford Brimley is Katy's pet Persian cat. He is old and weird and a little fucked up. I had to edit his introduction in Blind Trust because it was six (small) paragraphs and Wife told me that was unreasonable (skill issue), but I can include some canon info:

He shoves his paw under the bathroom door while people are in the bathroom

He likes feet

Edgar sometimes shares little bits of cheese with him

Once he fell asleep in Edgar's lap but then peed in his lap and just kept sleeping in the piss

Edgar treat him like a weird cousin he has to make conversation with during holidays

Wilford thinks he's his brother and an equally fucked up cat

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Cars mostly! Edgar has a shitty used car that's always close to breaking down. Katy has a newer car that's still used, but she takes very good care of it - I think it's a Fiat. I think Tenzin probably uses the car Scott's Dad left behind after he died, which is a vintage Cadillac convertible that Scott's Mom fixed up.

Scott is the only one without a license since he essentially has a magical dissociative disorder and hasn't yet felt safe behind the wheel. In Blind Trust he's taken every form of public transit to cross the country. I think when he was younger he used to skateboard to get around Bluerose.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

I'm close to 40k into book two!

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

I have hopes that people will enjoy the tenderness of it. I'm like a reverse-whump ace writer, in that I've written a series that's aggressively pro-comfort and recovery. People start off in pretty sorry states and then make the difficult effort to put themselves and each other back together.

There's explicit ace representation in Scott and aroace rep in Katy (she doesn't know it yet though shhh). Edgar comes out as Agender and changes pronouns midway into the series, but still keeps presenting as androgynous/masc leaning. There's diversity in body types and gender identities in a way that feels warranted to me - Scott has Klinefelter's and grew up taking T, and he made a best friend that came out so she could take her E with him. Same goes with disabilities in prominent characters, though the main four focus on what I have personal experience in.

As a disabled queer writer I hope to make a series that tells a fantastical story about people like me that doesn't pander specifically to my market.

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

I hope people read it. I hope they like it. It'd be cool if I could talk to people about it. I've been pretty deep in the Songbird Elegy fandom for some time now haha.

On a more serious note I hope there's a market for non-sexualized romances that are still hyper intimate. I know I'm into it but I'm still not sure if other people are. I'd like to create more media about positive and fulfilling ace relationships, both romantic and platonic. I'm tired of people seeing that type of life as a loss. Any healthy companionship is not a loss.

I want people to read Songbird Elegies and think about the love in their lives and in themselves. All of it, in every way. Yeah.

I tag @ryns-ramblings! I wanna hear about your thing!

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Big Sky Returns and I'm F*cking Livid!!

(And majorly turned on by Badass Beau!!)

Join me below for spoiler talk about Big Sky S3 E 11, Super Foxes.

Can we start with that last Beau/Carla scene?

K, so are we SERIOUSLY going with: Beau's whole fuckin' world fell apart and he checked out of their relationship for a while, and wouldn't open up to her enough about his crippling guilt and grief, so it was ALL HIS fault that she LEFT him when he needed her the most?

"I forgive you for all of that." she says, when SHE is the one who should be grovelling for forgiveness for COMPLETELY disregarding the part of marriage where you're meant to take care of each other!!!

I have never wanted to smack a character in the face more than at that moment. I kinda hate the writers for trying to make this seem like Beau's fault. Also, Jensen's INCREDIBLE acting aside, I wanted to scream when he was like, "I will always love you." Like, goddam dude you deserve SO MUCH BETTER than this BITCH!! Every episode I hate her a little more.

I loved every Beau scene (except the last one with Carla for the above stated reasons, though as I said, he still made me teary with his pain!!)

The badass way he took down the asshole with Avery had me fucking drooling! And then Avery proceeded to taunt and be a complete douch-nozzle to the guy who just saved his fucking life! Like two people have never deserved each other more than Carla and Avery. 😠😠

Then I almost choked when Beau actually mentioned my hometown of Winnipeg!! Holy Fuck!! 😍😍😍 I went back to listen to him say it like 5 times! 😁😆

Loved the interrogation scene, and the way you could see how desperate Beau was to beat the living shit out of Avery. Just do it, my love - DO IT!!

Anyway, loved ALL of Beau.

But I gotta say, I completely hated the entire Jenny and her mom storyline this episode. It felt so weird and random!! Like where tf did this deranged family come from? Like it seemed so out of nowhere and so completely bizarre. Just - SO weird! And the cornhole scene was really weird, and I felt like the dialogue didn't make much sense. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Idk, was it just me?

And I also can't help but feel like the reveal of Buck as the Bleeding Heart killer was a terrible reveal. I feel like it should have been a bigger deal. Feels like it just sort of leaked out of the plot at the end of that one episode. And now that storyline feels like it's dragging.

At this point, I do sort of feel like Beau is the only reason I'm watching and if they end up forcing his character back with fucking CARLA, I'm gonna have to spend the rest of my life writing fix-it fics for Beau.

Not that I'll mind that. Lol!!

Anyway, those are my takeaways. What did you guys think about this episode?

Edit:

I just watched the promo for the next episode and found out that it's the two part season finale?!! Like, wtf?

Only 13 episodes this season? And if they only had three episodes left why even take the winter hiatus? But also, wasn't there more filming recently?

I'm so confused, but also SO sad that we won't get anymore Beau!! 😩😩 Cause I'm pretty sure Jensen isn't coming back next season. Given the promo, and Beau's last speech to Carla, I'm a little terrified he's going to die, maybe sacrifice himself for Emily?! I will riot! 😫😫

Also what was all the show runner's crap about "paying off" Beau and Jenny's tension and chemistry in the "back half of the season"? Like you're gonna get them together in two episodes? I doubt that!!

I'm so torn about the two episodes next week. On one hand, Beau's storyline looks really good, but also I feel like I'm not gonna be happy with how it ends.

Just have to wait and see, I guess!

[adventures-in-asexuality]

excised from year-end post for reasons of: incorrect tone

damn, I am... surprised and dismayed at how much I miss my grandmother.

I knew I would never see her again, probably never hear from her again. I spent the past few years writing letters that I was told she enjoyed reading; she was too ill to write back. it was difficult to know what to write about; work, and carefully edited book reviews, and small anecdotes that required no context.

still miss her.

it's been seven years since I moved down south. it's been longer than that since I last was at her house. it's been a decade or more since I last felt that her house was a safe still point in the world, a point that would welcome me no matter what. (how spoilt, to have had that in the first place, to act like losing it was anything more than returning to most people's baseline.)

still miss her.

she was ninety-one. she never had time for weakness or infirmity. she was tired and old and missing her husband of sixty-plus years. her death was a relief for everyone, giving them a much more complicated grief experience than I could ever claim to have.

still--

two of my younger cousins wrote to me - we were supposed to be like siblings, I was supposed to look after them, and instead I left - to tell me that she was proud of me, and it made me so angry that it took me weeks longer to write back. not at them - how kind of them; they shouldn't have had to take up my slack - but at - I don't know. at the universe. at myself. what would she be proud of? this strange grandchild who left? maybe one day I will build a self I can be proud of, but she will never see it.

it's not grief like a seven-year-old crying for their other grandmother. I don't cry much anymore, and I'm too tired to consistently have emotions much of the time. everyone else who grieves her has much sharper edges of grief, much more of a tangle of memory and experience. I just have a directionless ache flavoured with anger. it's nothing. we move on. it's nothing.

I went back for her funeral and, film-like, the vicar's beard was greying. his youngest son is my age; we grew up in parallel. I walked past her house, sold now to other people. this is not my grief. this is not my grief. I left over a decade ago. I have no claim to this. there was never any way back for me.

her birthday was the day before mine. the digits of our ages always added up to the same total. she called her study her scriptorium. she went to morning prayer at the church every morning - just her and the vicar - and when I was there I would go too. she drank tea constantly; I remember the precise amount of sugar. there were raspberry canes at the bottom of her garden; in good years she'd pick over a hundred pounds and make jam with them. you count them as you pick: 28 to an ounce; they weigh about a gram each.

I've been thinking about context recently. when I left part of what scared me is that all of my eighteen years of life were now mostly irrelevant. no one could know me as well as everyone I'd left behind. eighteen years of context! contrasted to this flat, one-dimensional new person I was building as I went.

but these days it's less oppressive. I have a decade or more of context with some friends; talking and talking and experiencing. some friends come into my life and reawaken bits of my past: an old songwriter duo whose lyrics I memorised long ago, the right way to make gravy or store eggs. old knowledge becomes relevant again. old jokes become relevant again.

one day, perhaps, I'll make raspberry jam with raspberries I've grown. one day I'll be around cats more regularly - she always had cats; I miss them. context is lost and reborn and cyclical. she always hosted Christmas meals for as many people as possible; this year her table sat in my flat with eight people gathered round it. it goes around.

[masterwords]

ain't no memory that ever gets old (part two)

Summary: Sean is late to Haley's funeral & Hotch is arrested for the murder of Foyet.

Warnings: Haley's death, grief, mentions of prior abuse, Hotch being arrested, alcohol, mention of vomit.

Pairing: Will be Hotch/Morgan at some point probably but starts out no pairing.

Words: 3.4k

A/N: I'm sorry. I'm just...really really sorry. (If I stopped to edit as much as I usually do, I'd never be able to post, things are too busy so...I'm sorry for the errors.)

** CHAPTER LIST **

**

Call JJ. That's what his gut told him, but he wouldn't. His phone was so far away from where he now stood, completely alone. It was funny, if he'd been put into this situation under any other circumstances, he would call Hotch. Mayday, mayday, I need your guidance. Your cool head. See, he could figure it out but it always took him a second longer to burn through the emotion and that second could mean the difference between life and death...calling Hotch circumvented that. Hotch didn't react emotionally.

Until he did. Until he beat a man to death with his bare hands. And Derek knew damn well that the story, the reason, it would all add up to self-defense. He had faith. Why else would he use his fists? Why else would he be beat to shit himself? He had his gun and...it just didn't add up. It was just that the missing fucking puzzle pieces were locked inside of Hotch's head and either he was burning them himself or something else was.

“Will,” Derek said, storming out of the building. He took that extra second and so far, no one had died, so he was still winning. Emotions in check. “Meet me out front of the precinct. I have something to do and I need your help...”

This was absolutely uncalled for, he knew it. He could take anyone from the force, anyone at all could help him make this arrest but maybe he would give Hotch this last little ounce of dignity. Of care. Maybe he was just fooling himself though. Hotch wouldn't be comforted, this wasn't for Hotch, this was for him.

Will was waiting with his jacket and a grim look on his face. Tired, he looked tired. Well, couldn't blame him. JJ had been gone a week on a case, and right on the tail end of a horrific week at the BAU..he was running on fumes like the rest of them. If JJ thought it was unfair to have to do Hotch's cognitive interview, and she did, Will could make the same argument here. He and Hotch had become friends over the years.

“I take it this isn't a social call,” Will drawled in his 1am accent. He smelled like he was bathing in coffee. “Where we headed Morgan?”

Derek couldn't say those words. He just shoved the warrant, hot off the presses, into Will's lap and waited until he read it all with his little flashlight. “No...” he muttered, re-reading like his eyes were playing tricks on him. “Not Hotch. I was there in that house...”

Derek still hadn't spoken, but he knew he had to. He had to say something. “His story has a lot of holes in it, and they're pushing for a complete psych eval but with the violent nature of the...they're just...”

“Yeah. Covering their bases. Making sure they look good at any cost. What about a 5150 though?”

Derek shook his head. “I called the Assistant Director before I called you. Strauss got me all riled up. He said that they considered a 5150, but the way he killed Foyet...they didn't deem it appropriate. They had enough to secure a warrant for his arrest...they're gonna explore every avenue in a search for the truth and all that other bureaucratic fucking nonsense.”

“Horse shit.” He said it more like shee-it and Derek thought it might be the first time he'd smiled all day.

They pulled up in Derek's SUV, right into the loading zone in front of the apartments, and let the vehicle idle for a minute. Both of the stared at the front door, the quiet unassuming building with all its lights out. A building full of old people, that was Hotch's favorite thing about where he lived. The apartment itself could have been nicer, the building super wasn't great at maintaining things or getting to work orders in a timely fashion, but it was quiet. And the neighbors kept to themselves. Of course they could have used a nosy neighbor or two when Foyet broke into his home and stabbed him nearly to death...how no one saw him or heard anything was absolutely beyond Derek, but that was the story they got from each and every person in his building.

“You want me to take the lead?” Will asked, his hand hovering over the door handle. Derek's heart thundered in its cage.

“Would you?”

They were silent after that, closing their doors as quietly as they could so they didn't disturb the neighborhood. This could go quietly. This could go fine.

Or it could go very, very bad. And as they walked up the steps and Derek opened the front doors, he felt a creeping cold dread. Jessica would be there, Sean was in town, this was about to be a show. No way anyone was sleeping through this.

And Jack.

God, he forgot Jack. “Will, we can't do it if Jack is in the room.”

Will nodded. “Understood. We'll ask him to talk in the hall.”

Easier said than done. The moment they were inside, Hotch knew. How could he not? Derek was standing there in his suit with a piece of paper in his hand and Will was in uniform. Wouldn't take a profiler to understand what was happening.

“The investigation didn't go in my favor.” Hotch said it so dryly that Will lost his nerve. There and gone in an instant.

“No, Aaron,” Derek whispered, craning his head toward motion in the hallway. Voices, hushed, a woman and a man. “It didn't.”

Sean and Jessica appeared in unison, wiping the sleep from their eyes like twins. Everything they did was a mirror of the other, from the sleepy messy hair to the exaggerated yawns. Jessica spoke first.

“Aaron, what's going on?”

Hotch looked down at his feet. Yeah, he'd go quietly, he'd let them cuff him...but he'd be damned if he was going to do the job for them. One of them was going to have to own up to what they were party to. He wasn't exactly mad at either of them, he was tired and hurting and he was furious at the Bureau...but Elle flashed through his mind, and his reaction to what she'd done, and he couldn't blame them. Hadn't he been right here once before? How much of it was them acting on order and how much was on their own instinct he wasn't sure, but given the looks of distress on their features he thought it was more of the first option. They were there, they had to know.

Except those few minutes of pure black. No one knew what happened and until he remembered...if he remembered...he might hang for it.

“I'm sorry, Jess,” Derek started. “We have to take Aaron into custody.”

He couldn't look at Hotch. All at once, the room went completely silent, he couldn't even hear breathing. Waiting for Will to step in, do the damn job, anything. They needed to get this over with while Jack was sleeping. This was a mercy, the only one they were likely to get. It was why he chose to do it in the middle of the night instead of interrupting their pancake breakfast.

“What the fuck is going on Derek?!” Sean's voice ripped through the silence, tore down the solemnity of the moment and made it into something ugly and volatile. Something explosive. Hotch turned his face toward Derek and they locked eyes, neither able to let go of the hold. So long now they'd been able to read eachother's thoughts, their feelings, it never took more than one look to know what to do, how the other was...but he couldn't read anything in Hotch's eyes now. They were blank, almost dead. Shut off.

“Sean,” Jessica hissed, elbowing him in the ribs, but it was too late. Yeah, he'd been here a few days now but he still forgot there was a kid in the house. Didn't take long to remember...sure Jessica reminded him with her pointy little elbow and that little puffing noise she made when she was frustrated, but then Jack's door opened and little feet padded down the hallway slowly. No one looked.

No one but Will who looked suddenly stricken and pale, like a brand new cop on his first beat. “Daddy?” Jack asked, his tiny fists balled up and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. He was confused and tired, walking into a situation hotter than a powder keg.

“Go to Aunt Jess, Jack,” Hotch replied too quietly, too calmly. His eyes, unfocused though they were, never left Derek's gaze. He was searching for anger, for accusation, for sadness...this nothing was eerie and unsettling.

“Daddy?” Jack began crying this time. He could feel the heightened emotions in the room and Derek cursed himself for taking so damn long. He should have just done the thing. Taken Hotch out into the hallway and been done with it. They were wasting time, they'd practically begged for this. Will, sensing the sudden necessity for movement reached for his handcuffs and held them a moment. Jack, at the sight of the handcuffs, began crying. Huge wracking sobs, scared of something he didn't understand. All he knew was that all of the adults in the room were acting strange and Henry's dad had the bad guy bracelets. That's what he called them when he showed them to the boys on play dates with Henry. Fancy jewelry for bad guys.

“Daddy's a bad guy?” he asked, sniffling up at Will. That did it..Will dropped them and scrambled to pick them up with shaking hands. Fuck. He was a seasoned police officer, he'd made gut-wrenching arrests before but nothing compared to staring at this little boy and intending to take his father away. Derek, struck by a sudden flash of dejavu...they'd all been there on that line...they'd all heard Jack ask that same question not so long ago about someone who really was a bad guy...he groaned and reached beneath his suit jacket, grabbing his own cuffs. He had to get them out of there, put everyone out of whatever fucking purgatory this was. He was rougher than necessary in his frustration, grabbing Hotch's arms one by one and pulling them behind his back, wrenching his shoulders to spare his wrists.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Derek said softly, into Hotch's good ear. Loud enough that everyone could hear but soft enough that he didn't sound too harsh. Or like he believed for a second that this was right. As if it mattered. “You're under arrest for the murder of George Foyet.” The rest of it went by without him even recognizing the words he was saying. Jessica picked Jack up and held him against her, but she was crying nearly as much as he was. Sean looked like he might take Derek's head off with his bare hands. Just rip it clean off of his neck.

He might have welcomed it rather than having to walk Hotch out of his apartment, away from people he loved, and toward the SUV. In handcuffs. Will was the last to go, gave his card to Jessica and told her he'd be in touch. By the book.

“I'm sorry,” Will offered, glancing first at Jessica and then at Sean. “I'm really not supposed to say this but...get in touch with his lawyer now. I don't know what they're charging him with but best to get on it right away. The Bureau's prosecutors don't mess around.” He knew that Hotch was tight with the DA, Hotch knew everyone there was to know, and if anyone could get out of this it was him...but things looked bleak and he didn't want to give her anything that might look like false hope.

“He um...” Jess started, handing Jack to Sean and nudging them back down the hallway for a moment of privacy. “He gets a phone call, right?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Will tipped his head and nodded solemnly, a barrage of apologies dancing on his tongue. He couldn't speak them to life again, though. She didn't even want the first one. She just wanted Hotch back.

They walked slowly, Will trailing them a few steps behind. Derek wasn't hurrying, he was trying to be gentle with one hand on Hotch's shoulder, the other holding both of Hotch's hands inside of his. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, as if he had any right. Hotch made no effort to show he'd heard, no movement, just let Derek help him into the waiting SUV silently. He'd given the Bureau all he had to give them and look where it got him. He'd sacrificed his life, his family, and now maybe his freedom for them.

The lights in the police station were harsh and hurt his eyes. Flinching at the shock, he looked down at his feet and realized with some sick amusement that he'd been arrested in his pajamas and slippers. Must look like a real criminal with his gray and green plaid pants and wool socks, but he supposed it looked better than a suit and tie. It might do him a few favors down the road if people didn't immediately see him as an FBI Agent once he was booked in.

“You want me to stick around?” Derek asked once Hotch was in the seat directly before Will's desk. He'd already yawned no fewer than six times in the last minute, and if he really stopped to count out the days, he wasn't sure when he'd slept last. Attempts didn't count. He'd gone through the motions but never managed to succeed. Will set a Styrofoam cup of coffee on his desk in front of Hotch and looked at Derek with weary eyes.

“Nah. You all just got back from a case, go home. We'll talk in the morning.”

“If you tell JJ...” He began solemnly, hoping just to plead for a little time. No details. He wasn't even sure how to face them all in the morning and being blindsided wasn't going to help any of them. He had to get his head on straight.

“I'm not gonna tell Jennifer. That's your job. You'll see her before I do, anyway. I'm pulling a double shift.”

Will didn't mind being left to book Hotch in, to process the paperwork, to set him up in a holding cell. They'd just cleaned one up from the drunk the night before, it was spotless and sanitized after a night of the walls being painted with 7-11 cheap hooch soaked sick. The bed was neatly made, and it was so far empty. He didn't have much hope that it would stay that way, he could feel that itchy vibration in the room...his men were out on their beats and the closer they got to the bars closing, the louder it would get in here.

For now, though, it was peaceful. He could fingerprint his friend, take a mug shot, book him in because it was his. And he could do all of that because he had to, but he couldn't tell his wife what he'd been party to. That the interview she did with him had led to the Bureau questioning his motives and culpability. Derek could walk away, go wherever he was going to go, do whatever he was going to do...but he would be the one to tell his team. On that, Will was unwavering.

Derek understood. Glancing at Hotch who was still just sitting in silence with his hands folded in his lap, he wanted to say something, anything. Nothing he wanted to say could be said. He had to look impartial, he had to play the game and pretend his heart wasn't breaking. He thought about sitting in that interrogation room in Chicago on the wrong side of the table, accusations lobbed at him faster than he could parry. And this wasn't the same thing, he had to remind himself.

He hadn't done anything. He was a victim. Hotch...well, Hotch was a victim, too, but he was more than that.

There was blood on his hands.

That didn't ease the pain of walking out of that station and leaving him there. It didn't fix the ache gnawing at his insides.

“Can I get you anything?” Will asked, settling into his seat. Hotch turned his solemn eyes up at Will and shook his head. He had the right to remain silent and he planned to do so. Opening up had been what got him here in the first place. Believing that after all his years of service, all the time he spent upholding his oath, had landed him face to face with a badge and bars.

“Alright. Look, I gotta get you booked okay?”

“I'm sure you have better things to do. That officer over there is reading a Stephen King novel. You don't owe me any favors, Will.”

Will tried to mask the hurt but it caught him too quickly. “As the arresting officer, it is my job...” He paused and sighed, dragging his hands hard down his face. “Look. Derek asked me to book you and hold you here for as long as we could. He's gonna try and undo this but it...we just need you to cooperate. Trust us.”

Hotch didn't smile, but Will could sense his wry amusement anyway. Trust them, after they walked into his home in the middle of the night and put him in cuffs in front of his family. Derek had thought it would be better, do it while Jack was asleep, a clean getaway. Jess could soften the blow in the morning without the kid having to see his dad in handcuffs. And it would have worked if not for Sean so it really wasn't all on them, but he would have to accept that Hotch would always see it that way. He could forgive but he couldn't forget. He couldn't wipe the sound of Jack asking if he was a bad guy from his memory.

“Are you sure I can't get you anything? This process can take a few hours.”

“I'm fine.” Hotch was well aware of how long the process could take, and what difference did it make anyway? He was in no rush to be shoved into a cell to sit and wait. He wasn't known for being especially verbose, but tonight he was keeping it as minimal as he could. He'd already had the same headache for over a week and it wasn't getting any better sitting in the police station.

At that point, Will figured he had no choice. He had to go about this like any other arrest so he booted up his system (he hadn't even been on shift long enough when Derek called to get settled...this was going to be the longest double of his life). Hotch sat in silence, studying his sore hands intently while Will entered him into the system. There were questions one after another, all answered monosyllabic and quiet, as little information as he was willing or needed to share.

By the time he was in the holding cell, things were getting noisier. Mostly woozy drunks ready to sleep off a bender and a few riled up men who used their fists to communicate after a few too many beers, and Will kept them separate from Hotch. He had to be careful not to give the appearance of special treatment, but the idea of putting Hotch in a jail cell so soon after his tremendous loss was just a little more than he could bear. If anyone were to ask him why Hotch got a cell to himself, he figured he could easily explain it...he was being charged with murder, after all. And does a murderer belong in the same cage as a drunk? For the drunk's safety, of course.

“I'll check on ya in a bit,” Will said, shutting the door to the cell and locking it. He couldn't bring himself to look at Hotch standing there in his pajamas watching him from the wrong side of the bars. “Get some sleep.”

[lacependragon]

ooh ooh, some asks from the writing ask game! 11, 18, 27, 29?

11.  Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

N.K. Jemisin's Broken Earth trilogy redefined how I do timelines and multiple POVs, if only because using a single throughline for worldbuilding but spreading it across three POVs was brilliant. There's so much more I took from that trilogy but the way she incorporated worldbuilding across POVs was really neat to me.

The Song of Achilles altered how I handle emotional timeskips and specific ways of how I write sentences.

rachel writes on Youtube is an author I absolutely adore and a lot of what she says really resonates with me. She also convinced me, via video, to write in third person present tense which is SO FREEING.

Mindy McGinnis is another author who really inspires me. And she influences a lot of how I write tension, horror, and grief. The Female of the Species did a lot for my writing.

18.  If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

I want Hot Wheels to give me the rights to Hot Wheels Battle Force 5 and then I want Netflix to collab with me to make a five season and two movie animated series in the style of Arcane but HOT WHEELS BATTLE FORCE 5.

This is the ONLY collab I have EVER given serious thought to. I'm not sure about anything else.

27.  Favourite line/scene

Hmmmmmmmm.

Okay let's go with favourite line I wrote this WEEK, which is in chapter 8 of Descent:

Directions to the pinned map appear a moment later. Nat swipes open their music and queues the same song about a dozen times before hitting play. It’s close enough. They’ll walk.

Something about like. The extreme VIBE of the song queuing, while also the specificity of the detail, while also this short punch of the last two sentences. It's not as good out of context but it's still very good.

Favourite scene in a fanfic is still the moment in You and Me where Qrow finally tells Ruby and Yang the truth about their parents' deaths. It's a scene I cried through many times while writing and editing.

29.  Favourite villain

See if I told you my actual favourite villain, you get this:

God [spoilers] is such a good villain. We start out thinking [spoilers], but then over the course of the next [spoilers] we learn [spoilers] which slowly reveals that [spoilers] and this leads to Nat [spoilers]! It's so exciting!

Because I don't want to spoil a reveal of a hidden villain. So, instead, let me pick my number two-

no that's a spoiler.

number THREE-

Hrm.

Okay so the problem is all the best details about all my villains are like. Spoilers.

So I'll go simple then: I fucking love Madden as an antagonist and as a villain. TMI is great for that shit.

[morkofday]

I tried to format this with a comma and a capital letter to show where a new line is in these songs/quotes bc tumblr hates formatting!

"Don't you ever, Tame your demons, But always keep them on a leash" - Arsonist's Lullabye, Hozier (maybe vegaspete or beyond evil?)

"And from these rooftops, I'll scream your name, Bravely to the dark" - Tyler Knott Gregson (rooftops always give me patpran vibes but anyone else if good too)

"How much should my longing fall like snow, Before the days of spring return, friend?, Snowflakes fall down, And fall apart little by little, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you" - Spring Day, BTS

Also basically any of Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys gives me patpran vibes but idk if this is a basic choice? It could be overused but im not sure but anyway!! "I dreamt about you nearly every night this week, How many secrets can you keep?, 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat, Until I fall asleep, Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? Because I always do, Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new."

Also I'm happy to take literally anything for The Eclipse (I feel like I really dont see many edits of it? But I feel like its difficult to pin down a specific vibe because it was so much grief but it is maybe my favourite right now!) or Between Us/Not Me/Bad Buddy/Vice Versa/Beyond Evil!

hello lizzie ^^ i hope you've been well!

this is for you!

i hope you like what i came up with even when i took some liberties with the prompt. you gave me so many options to choose from, so many good options, but ever since i first got this ask, i was fixated on that hozier line. it just seemed to fit beyond evil so perfectly and i was so excited to make something for that drama bc i never did back when i watched it. thank you so much for it! (and also special love for throwing spring day at me, it made me smile fondly ♥ maybe i'll end up using it when i find something fitting to use it for)

(more blabberings under the cut bc this edit made me think some thoughts!)

first of all, i have to admit that i have almost forgotten everything that happened in beyond evil. it's been over a year since i binged through it and it never stuck with me the same way as, let's say, the devil judge did. but i still found it super interesting and with this prompt, i came to think about the themes in it once more. i came to think about the story, and the world, and the people. most of all, the people.

bc, second of all, i am obsessed with the dynamic of our two main characters. they are like fire and ice, and they struggle to understand each other bc of it. joowon is young, righteous, hopeful, and naive. dongsik is older, has already seen the cruelty of the world, and knows how much it can hurt. but he has not given up, and instead, there is this plan and then –

well. joowon comes and messes it up. kind of. tho he also becomes dongsik's ally, and then comes to see how unfair the world can be, and watching all of this happen hurts dongsik who, until then, has not shied away from sacrifice. he has let the people around him be hurt. he has been selfish in that sense. and then this one person more threatens to tip him over.

so, i had thoughts. and then i somehow tried to put all of them into this edit: the differences between joowon and dongsik, their individual journeys, their joined moments. there's dongsik with his undying fire, the only thing left pushing him through as he loses, and loses, and loses again and again. there's joowon with his one goal: to serve justice. he's willing to try and reach this goal by any means necessary. he almost becomes blind to how impossible reaching it can be.

they both have their demons. dongsik's are vengeful, full of years-old rage. they're simmering somewhere behind his smiles and in his stern eyes and under the tears he so unwillingly sheds. he cannot tame them despite all the time that has passed. he doesn't want to.

and then there's joowon with his newly found demons, the ones that are out of his control, the ones that would like to drive a bullet into his father's chest or smash a golf club into his head. the demons that turn the calm and collected detective han into someone he didn't know he could be. the demons that are born out of his old and new grief.

the caption seemed to put all of this so nicely. it's one of dongsik's lines said to joowon. there's something scary about how far ppl are willing to go out of love and attachment. we're terrifying creatures once someone takes something we care about away from us.

i hope you didn't find my ramblings or the edit itself boring. i personally love the simplicity of it all. i haven't done anything black and white in a long while so this felt refreshing and fun.

thank you once more for your prompt and have a good weekend ♥

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Summer Lovin'." Sam Wescott X AFAB! Reader. A Commission.

Well hey, hey, hey! Lookie here a lovely Sam Wescott commission for the amazing @darkestamralime, I love Bug so fucking much and loved doing this for them! I went really in on it and did some editing to make it readable for everyone, don’t worry Bug has the OG version with her name in it! She wanted a 2.5-ish comm, I went above and beyond naturally, and I hope you all enjoy it!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 4K. Sam Wescott X AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Long Time Friends. Pining. Sam Is A Little Clueless. Deeper Feelings. Grief. Serious Emotions. Making Out. Teasing. Banter. Fingering. Oral Sex. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Raw Sex. Breeding Kink. Sappy Emotional Stuff. Dirty Talk About You Getting Pregnant. 

—

Going to camp every summer had a profound and positive effect on you. It gave you so many loves, for the great outdoors, camp fires, archery and hiking and canoeing. You’d been attending camp almost as long as you could remember honestly. You made wonderful friends throughout the years, some who you would only see at camp year after year, some staying as long as you, others eventually falling off and you losing touch but some of them you were pen pals with. 

One such friend was made when you switched camps, your old haunt sadly closed after many beloved years and you weren’t about to give up your summer habit so you were placed in a new camp that fateful summer by your parents. 

Camp Clear Vista is honestly, a really fucking good camp. 

Tons of activities, great staff, lots of other people to hang around with, the family who owned the camp were attentive and good at what they did but you were most taken with their son, Sam Wescott. You met that first year at their camp and you took notice of him pretty early on. He had a cute smile and even back then was a hard worker, more so than he should have been. You overheard his mom telling him one afternoon that while she appreciated the offer he should go for the afternoon swim at the lake with everyone else. 

He told her with a sad sigh, “Okayyy-”

A tone you’d come to know all too well as you got to know him better. His brow creased with worry, hands in his cargo shorts pockets, you watched as his mom ruffled his hair and said, “Really kiddo, take it easy, there is always time to help out lots more at camp when you grow up, just enjoy being a camper for now.” 

He nodded, a serious expression painting his features and after his mom walked off you made your way over. “Heya, Sam, right?”

He perked up, looking over to you, a small smile, “Yeah, Sam! That’s me, sorry I don’t think I know you? Yet anyway.”

“I wasn’t tryna be a creep but I heard all that. You okay?” You asked and he almost seemed embarrassed you overheard, “Uh yeah! M’ fine. I just know my folks and the staff have a lot of work around here, I feel like I should help out.”

You nodded, understanding just where he was coming from. “Yeah makes sense, but it’s like your mom said, there is time for all that later too. The work isn’t going anywhere, you should have fun like everyone else.”

“Suppose so.” He admitted shyly with a shrug, hands still in his pockets as his smile brightened, “Thanks.” 

He sounded so sincere it was nice. 

“Don’t mention it. You wanna come for a swim at the lake with me and everyone else?” You asked with a thumb over your shoulder and he took you up on it. That is where your friendship started on a hot summer afternoon at group swim.

You would pair up with Sam when you could and your activities overlapped. You would sit together at meals semi-regularly that first year. When camp was winding down you had made mention earlier about some pen pals you had from previous years at camp and Sam asked if you wanted to stay in touch. You agreed with a wide smile and produced a ripped sheet of lined notebook paper with your address on it. “First letter is on you Sammy.”

You got that first one within two weeks. Letters became a regular thing and so did your and Sam’s friendship growing every year you camp back to Camp Clear Vista. As years wore on and you and Sam both got older he insisted on stepping up more to help which cut into your hang time that had been steadily increasing year by year and well that wouldn’t do. 

You made the suggestion about getting more involved. You loved camp, you were older, wanted to start working towards giving back and if you helped Sam then that means any of his responsibilities would be done sooner. In addition to getting to spend personal time helping out once that was wrapped up you could indulge in whatever camp fun you wished. It was a great set-up really. 

Your training went swimmingly, Sam’s parents loved you, appreciated how hard you worked, how much you cared and the sheer amount of years at camp you’ve had under your belt. 

You became that person people talked about, girls excitedly on the bus with new friends who were first attending or to younger campers talking about you! The great, amazing, cool, older counsellor! Fun loving, great in crisis, fantastic at taking care of all the kids, talented and more. Your late teen years were spent helping oversee as Sam was moving right up along with you.

Both of you flourished in your new roles, would talk excitedly in the evenings around the fire about what you all got up to that day with your respective kids, who was in your bunk, the funny things that would happen. It was great. You got even closer still. Life at camp made sense, seemed almost too perfect, you wanted these summers at camp with Sam to last forever but those three months of June, July, August would fly by much too quickly for anyone’s liking. 

When Sam’s parents passed it was a terrible shock, an awful accident, one no one could have foresaw. 

When you heard the news you reached out. Pen pals no more, no you and Sam talked on the phone. You told him you could and would be there for him and so there were many nights where you would sit up on the phone those winter months and talk with Sam as he processed. 

You only missed one summer without the camp being open and it was hellish. You missed it, missed being outdoors, missed Sam. On the phone one night you asked how he felt about it and he hated it. Felt sick over it, he missed it all too.

You made the suggestion gently, softly, cradling the phone with your shoulder, sitting on your bed near midnight, “Why don’t you run the camp?”

So next late spring you and Sam were fixing up camp with a few other people, readying it for that year's batch of campers, the first year the camp was fully in Sam’s name. The camp looked great, it was cathartic being back there. When you saw Sam you and he dropped your bags and ran, a big hug that lasted so long and as soon as you broke apart there was excitement talking about all there was to do and how good it was to be back and to see each other in person.

Sam looked great and he told you the same. You were both past your teens, well into your twenties, had known each other over ten years at this point, so much history, so much emotion and neither of you campers or counsellors in training. Now Sam owns the place and you are one of the full fledged lead counsellors. When Sam took your idea to heart about reopening camp you were the first person he asked to join up. 

“You’ve been there, been there for the camp's golden years, you know how it should be, you get it, you know?” He sighed almost dreamly into the phone and you could picture the expression on his face perfectly. “You can help me make it like it used to be and better! Give these kids the kind of amazing summers we had.”

You were convinced three sentences ago but you loved listening to him gush so you let him go on about how perfect a fit he thought you’d be. 

It was two weeks after camp had been reopened that you and Sam took a moment for yourselves. You were sitting on that hill that Sam has always loved. The one he would sit on that could oversee the whole camp and gave a gorgeous look up at the stars. You and he were sitting there, sharing a drink when he first felt it. 

Looking over to you, looking up at the sky, cradling the can in your lap when he felt the beginning of deeper feelings hit all at once. 

How…

How had he never noticed this before, how had he never noticed you like this before? He had eyes, he was stupid but not that fucking stupid, he knew you were attactive and that you both got on like a house on fire. But it was almost like it was too obvious, you know? Like when you are searching for your phone but it turns out to be in your hand the whole time, almost offensively obvious once you notice it, the kind of thing to make you scratch your head and wonder how you could have been so oblivious. 

You cared. Really and truly and seeing how you were this week, with the kids, it made his heart melt. You taught them all archery and leading hikes and all the rest, you were amazing with them and they loved you. 

And Sam thought at that moment, that he just might love you too. More than he thought previously, maybe more than as a friend. 

“Hey?” He asked and your eyes were pulled from the sky to him, “Yeah Sammy?”

“I…I just wanna thank you for pushing me to do this. I know we are barely into the summer but this is just-it’s amazing. It’s just what I needed. I think my mom and dad would be really happy to know we reopened it and would be proud so just, thank you so much for coming back to hel-” 

You cut him off, a hand on his knee as you said, “Sam of course! What was I gonna do? Let you do all the hard work AND have all the fun yourself? No chance.”

Just as always you made Sam laugh and wipe at his eyes, breaking the tension with impeccable timing just before he got a little too mushy and in his feelings. He did however say, “You’ve been doing so good by the way, seeing you with the kids, you’ve been doing amazing, the kids all love you! I hear em talkin’ about you all the time. An’ I am so fucking glad I can help you anyway you need but you’ve really found out how to make it all work.”

You were so touched. Your body had changed as you got older, some stuff was harder for you physically than for a lot of people your age, it could be tiring but it was your body and you managed. Still him noticing, appreciating and not being weird or condescending about it, just the sweet regular Sam you knew so well, it was wonderful. You didn’t know you needed to hear it.

Sam was so busy with all this new responsibility, you both were to be fair, but the lack of personal time just you and him would not do. So one afternoon when you had nothing going on he made a concerted effort to seek you out for some friend time. 

He found you hanging out with none other than Steve The Kayak King himself when he asked if you wanted to hang out because he was free and you said, “Well sure, would love to Wescott but whatever shall we do?”

The tone made Steve laugh and Sam said, “Not sure, what do you wanna do?”

“I think I got a good idea.” Steve said holding up an ore and so it was decided.

A two person canoe ride with just the pair of you. It brings you back to the first time you did this when you were just teenagers and it feels good. 

It is quiet as you both paddle out, decently down the river, enjoying the peace of nature when Sam pipes up with, “Did you hear that Buddy is making your old favourite for lunch? He insisted and I think he’s right that it will be a big hit with the kids-”

You laughed and you dipped your ore deeper into the water before pulling it out and splashing Sam who protested, one hand up with an all too playful sounding, “Hey! The fuck is that for?” 

“For you talking about work STILL during our first legit solo camp activity of the summer! Knock it off and fuckin’ relax! Doctors orders, wait not just doctors orders, Steve The Kayak King’s orders!”

You said it in that half joking half serious way that made Sam grin but he scoffed too, looking over his shoulder to you with a squint, “Invoking the Kayak King clause? Low blow, real low.”

He turned to face you in the canoe to find you resting your ore across your knees with a big cocky smile thrown to him before a hand goes to your chest and you ask in mock innocence, “Me? Why Sammy my boy I only ever have the best of intentions.”

“Mmm I’m so sure.” He hummed. This was, great, better than great, just what he needed. 

As the paddling progressed, more conversation and jokes and banter flowed like water down the river you were riding on, it was too much to bear. All the feelings that had been growing, fuck, how long had he been in love with you without ever realizing it? Too long apparently because now that he was aware of it he couldn’t turn it off, couldn’t stop thinking about it and not of course, wanting to act on it, desperately. 

So instead of overthinking or taking too long or anything else that is instinctual to Sam, he does what he knows you would tell him to do which is to just go for it. So when you had stopped for a break and you were talking excitedly about something and the sun caught your hair like that, bangs all swept in the wind and wrapped in pink and white he made his move. 

He closed the gap and he kissed you and the only thought that was in your mind was, “Fuck yes.” 

Your hands met his shoulders and you kissed him back, his lips were so fucking soft and you leaned closer into him. You had heard that Sam was a damn good kisser, that Sam was damn good at a lot of things, but hearing and feeling are two totally different things. 

You were the one to break away first, just to laugh and he asked with that warm as fuck smile, “What? Is my kissing that bad?”

“No, no! Just-fuck Wescott, what took you so long?” You asked and he laughed too, “I don’t know, feel like a major fucking idiot right now though.” 

“S’okay, I’ll forgive you this time, so long as you make it up to me.” You teased and he asked, “And how can I start?”

“Riiiiight about-” Your hand fists in his collar and you tug him to you, much closer, your lips brush against his before saying that last word, -”here.”

He didn’t respond with words, he just kissed you again. He could do this more than that he wanted this, felt like he needed it.

It had started easy, fun and playful just like the relationship you had both had thus far but soon it shifted. You appreciate him stepping up and at long last making a move, finally waking up to how you both knew that he felt, that you felt, all that teasing, that flirting, those jokes and you getting him all flustered on and off coming to a head, you escalate. You nip at his bottom lip and that makes him kiss you deeper, more hungrily and one of your hands slides up into his hair and his hands go to your hips and on it goes. Passionate making out in this little canoe was quickly becoming stifling, you needed more room to touch, to feel him. 

So you make another helpful suggestion, a question really, “You opposed to fucking in the woods?”

He laughed, head tipping back, indulging in it for a moment before his head came back down and his nose brushed yours and he said, “I lost my virginity in these woods, remember?”

“That’s right with fuckin’ Toni Middleson!” You both shared another breathless laugh before you asked, “What ever even happened to her?” You asked as you pulled away to grab your ore and row to the riverbank.

“Don’t you remember? Her family moved states, never saw her after that summer.” Sam said and you hummed at remembering that yes that did sound right.

Soon as you were at the riverbank and Sam was helping you out of the boat, any talk of Toni was forgotten in favour of more physical closeness. It wasn’t like there was a rush but you did have more responsibilities to attend to back at camp, you were a solid forty minutes out from camp and after fucking it out you’d still have to make the return trip. Not to mention the fact that this was over a decade in the making, there was a lot of lost time to make up for.

There was no question in Sam’s mind of who would be on top, he had snatched a blanket from the canoe and had laid it down for you, ever caring, always concerned. He was on top of you, kissing down your throat, his leg between yours, allowing you something to press and grind against as he asked, “You comfortable?”

Between the soft grass you found and the blanket, his hand sliding up your shirt and his amazingly sinful mouth, yes you were very fucking comfortable. You hummed and nodded, your hands on his shoulders, tugging on his shirt and he said, “Good.” 

You moved him, tugged on his hair, bringing his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply and he groaned into it. You feel how hard he is against you, unable to stop the slight movement of his hips to gain some brief stimulation and you were getting pretty damn excited himself. You arched just a little into Sam’s touch, an encouraging moan into his mouth as he palmed one of your tits and he pulled back, “Fuck, this body of yours, so good-”

“Yeah it’s served me alright so far.” You teased, your hands sliding down his sides before hooking in his belt loops, you made him grind onto you and loved how his breath caught. 

“Cah-can’t take a single damn thing seriously can you?” He asked and you rocked against his thigh as you said, “Where’s the fun in that?”

You did however take this seriously, took what was currently going on seriously, you cared about him, so much.

You didn’t have the time or the words to communicate that because Sam was kissing you again, paying reverence to your body with wandering hands and sweet words before he had gotten your shorts off. He soon enough was between your thighs showing you that yes another one of those old camp rumours was quite legit. Sam Wescott was unfairly good at eating out. He took his time but didn’t need to, he seemingly read you perfectly, knew just what you needed, what made you arch and gasp, what made you call out his name into the trees surrounding you and what made your thighs tense around his head. He went about it in a wholly messy and wonderfully indulgent fashion, licking up every drop of you that he could, licks of his tongue, open mouthed kisses, sucking and slipping two fingers inside, moaning against your soaked slit about how drenched you were. 

He didn’t give up or stop until you had cum an impressive five minutes into his efforts and pushed him away with a shaking hand. “Fuck me Wescott-” You panted in disblief of how fast and how good that was.

“I mean if you insist.” He said softly and you laughed and helped him get his shirt off. 

You had seen a lot of him over the years, knew he had a good body but one particular part had always missed your line of sight, now however as he was taking down his pants and underwear, you got a clear eyeful. He was fucking goregous, long, thick, looked painfully hard and to be leaking pre-cum already, you wanted to wrap your legs around his hips and fill yourself with him so badly. He was taking in the view of you and with a shake of his head he confessed, “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

You reached out to him with both hands, “C’mon Sam, I’ve waited long enough, haven’t I?” 

“We both have.” He confirmed before his mouth was on yours, his body covering you once more. He nudged against you before pulling back and saying, “Shit, wait, I don’t have a condom-”

“S’okay, just pull out. I trust you.” You reassured him and you’d gotten this far, no way you could stop now.

He lined up and so soon you were treated to the feeling of him slipping inside you for the first time. Felt like the wind was knocked out of you but not in a bad way, a shared sharp inhale that made your make out pause, he breathed, “Oh fuck-”

“Yes.” You sighed, one arm looping around his neck, loving how close he was to you, how deep he was seated inside you. He started to move, fuck at an easy pace and you encouraged him readily with a low moan, “Yeah, Sam, mmf, that’s good-”

“Like that?” He asked, voice a little raw with the sensation, a purposeful grind against you, extra attention paid to give you some beautiful pressure on your clit that had you saying, “Yea-yeah! Like that!”

He was hitting it so well and he clearly loving it just as much as you were, “Shit, you-you are so fucking wet, feel so ahhn, incredible-” He sighed out that last word and it made you clench around him tightly. 

Neither of you were going to last long but after so much lead up, how could you? He asked, “I-I’m not gonna last, fuck, sorry, are you-?” He couldn’t get the question out, you were gasping out, “Mmmhm! M’ close, please, Sammy, don’t stop.” 

God he wanted it. Wanted to feel you cum on him but he knew if he did last long enough for that, to ensure your end, he would cum when you did, no way could he hold back, he slowly just a hair to prolong it, tried to fight back his orgasm. 

“No! Sam, please, please, I-I don’t want you to pull out now.” You begged and that made him throb inside you, nearly imperceptible but you feel him flex against your walls and you bite your bottom lip in response, dragged ever closer to the edge. He was looking down at you, “No? You want me to cum inside?”

“Yes.” You admitted. “Cum in you raw? You know how-God, how dangerous that is?” He panted and you again said, “Yes!” 

He continued, pace picking up once more as he asked, “Wha-what if it takes? What if I get you pregn-” He didn’t need to finish that thought you cried out, “I want it, fuck, it’s you! Course I want it, Sam please! Don’t stoppp-” 

He wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dream of it and then with another deep thrust ending in a grind you cum, you fall over the edge, bliss overtaking, his name on your lips and midway through you hear him groan, holding all the way inside and more over you feel him cum. He makes sure to hold tight, gives you every drop, his body trembling just a little as he does so, mirroring the way yours does too. 

The come down is slow, sweaty and messy, more kisses as he refuses to leave yet, staying deep inside, he kisses over your cheek and your hairline and sighs out, “You’re gonna be the best mom.”

Fuck you really have always loved him, haven’t you? 

[floating-in-the-blue]

🥺 + 👀

Thank you so much, inny! As always, I ramble far too much in these answers ;D

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Hm ... for weird reasons we're not going to psychoanalyze, I'm a sucker for love expressing itself through grief but also any and all variations of scenes that boil down to 'I see you and I love you.'

I'm not sure I've had many of those in my jatp fics yet, which have mostly been on the adorable fluffy side, but they're the first that came to mind.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

So the dark fairytale willex merman au with a happy ending is basically finished. It just took nearly two years since first having the idea even though it's actually short af because brain and life and style. On my good days I think the style works well and on my bad days I think it's annoying so .. that's going to be fun and interesting when I release it into the wild.

It's a lot more narrative distance than I usually employ because ✨fairytale style✨ and it gets more complicated by Willie not actually having a name (and neither does his Triton/Ursula mix-up dad aka Caleb) because the merfolk language is different and unpronouncable by human tongues and so this has been a fun time of wishing it was a het story so I could differentiate with "he" and "she" instead of having too many hes and hims and kings and princes.

I'm currently waiting for my brain to enter 'good day' territory again for the last round of editing before giving it out to trusted test readers and crossing my fingers very hard. And then, hopefully, I'll feel ready to post (and ideally take a three week long vacation from being online). And I just know that being this stressed out about a story (which I haven't been in a long time) is going to wreak havoc if I post it at the wrong time. So my current plan is to get it finished and then let it cool off, by which I mean letting myself cool off until it's just a 'oh, I forgot I hadn't posted this yet, might as well do it but I don't really care about it anymore.' But since I'm apparently incapable of resisting, have a snipped under the cut in case you're curious.

Eager to explore, the boy from the sea slips out of the sheets and blankets only to fall to the floor with a cry of pain.

There is a price you will have to pay and every step on your new legs will remind you of it.

The echo of his father’s voice rings in his head as the boy tries to stand again, arms shaking as he grabs the pillar of his bed for support.

Before he has quite managed to right himself again, there is a cautious knock on the door and then the handle turns and the boy from the sea finds himself drowning in ocean eyes that are wide with shock.

[scarletslippers]

HEY! So the other day I was on my 10 millionth read of Nace fanfics on Ao3 (and I’m already a HUGE fan of all your work — which a lot I have read multiple times) but I stumbled upon All I’ve Ever Known (and I guess I never gave it a go before) BUT WOW… it blew everything out of the water (which I think it’s weird for me to say since you are an incredible writer and I love everything you write anyway) BUT DANG idk it just hit… the established Nancy/Ace (something I am a sucker for)… 1/?

(cont’d) The description/story telling, the way you portrayed grief for both Nancy/Ryan in a way that felt real and so like their characters, their dynamic, the way Carson was involved… it’s just CHEIFS KISS! BEAUTIFUL! BEAUTIFUL! BEAUTIFUL! I think some of my fav fics of yours just latch onto my heart and portray Nancy and the crew in such a way that makes it feel so real and possible. To me ff in just another media to see your fav characters in a different light and is something you do so well in all of your work. You are really such an amazing writer and one of my favs in the fandom. Every time I see you posted, it makes my heart so freaking happy! I just wanted to tell you that ily and think you are so talented! Thank you for all that you do! 💞

Anon. Anon. Anon.

I have taken 5 business days to absorb this love and I still have not recovered.

all I've ever known is so special to me because it feels like my first “real” fic 😂 It took me a long time to write it, and I meticulously edited it (vs my first two which were posted in the Nace brainrot haze). After I finished it I said to myself “I don’t think I’ll ever be one of those writers that writes really long fics. This feels like my area, 5-7k is good for me.” And then I laughed at myself and said “those are probably famous last words.” (they were. they are.)

And if you’ll indulge me for a minute... That fic is a bit of an enigma to me too because I can’t really tell if people like it. It’s a high hit count (maybe because it’s been posted for almost a year now?), a mid-range kudos count for me (but it gets new kudos relatively regularly?), but very few comments. I don’t know, when it pops up in my kudos email it makes me so happy that people are discovering it, but I also go “huh, I wonder what they thought.” I’m probably overthinking it (as I tend to do), and I’m definitely a little more self-critical of that fic because it was an early attempt and I don’t know that I’d write something like that now, but I’m still so so proud of it.

Anyway, all that is to say, thank you for reading it, for loving it, and for coming here to tell me so (maybe leave a comment too?). Your kind words definitely made me cry and helped boost a tough week. Also, if you haven’t go listen to the song All I’ve Ever Known from the Hadestown soundtrack, it’s so Nace it’s insane!

Thanks too for being a regular reader -- I’m actually planning to post a little tiny something later today so be on the lookout 👀