#listen i have an illness that forces me to draw people hot okay leave me alone
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CEASELESS WATCHER
#listen i have an illness that forces me to draw people hot okay leave me alone#no theres no cure#he is a loki variant for sure#the magnus archives#the magnus protocol#the magnus pod#rusty quill#jonathan sims#jon archivist#the archivist#jon the archivist#jon tma
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serendipity
ahhhh she’s finally done!! now i can rest my weary soul. thank you to my lover @bfharry for putting this lovely event together, and i’m sorry this late, i’m a mess.
7k pining, fluff and smut
friends to lovers college au // trigger warning - mentions of illness, family death and childhood trauma, mentions of alcohol use.
She was reaching as high as she could, desperately trying to get to the book on the shelf that was much too high for her to reach. She turns to Harry, who’s smirking down at her with crossed arms.
“Need a lift, sprout?”
She gives him a look of eloquence. “Please.”
She giggles as he dips down, wrapping his arms around her legs and lifting her up. Now, she’s happily at eye level with the desired shelf.
Her fingers skimming over the spines of all the hardbacks sitting comfortably on the wood surface. E...F...G...H...
“Found it!”
Once her eyes lock on the title, she pulls the book out as fast as she could.
“Okay, let me down.”
“Sure? Don’t like the view from up there? Know you’re not used to it-”
“No, now let me down before I bruise you like the peach that you are.”
“Ouch.” he snickered, setting you back down onto the ground beneath. “S’harsh.”
“Deserved it.” she teased before he sticks out his tongue in a playful response.
“What d’ya need the book for?”
“It’s for that analysis we have to do for poetry class.”
He blinks at her once, eyes widening slightly. “What analysis?”
She giggles at his expression. “You didn’t read your emails, did you?”
“Fuck!” he exclaims, voice slightly above a whisper, but it was enough to agitate the other students in the library who are trying to either study or get their own work done.
“Shhh!”
“Sorry, sorry.” he apologizes to the people around them before Y/N puts a hand on his bicep and he leans into her to hear her whispering words.
“You just have to pick a poetry book, analyze it, make a conclusion, all that stuff.”
“So it’s like an essay?”
“Kind of.” she follows Harry as he starts to examine the shelves for a book himself. “You know how Greene is, he’s super chill. He wants it to be more of a review, what you think of the book and the author.”
“So, like a review.”
She blinks at him. “That’s what I just said.”
“M’tired, gimme a break.” he sighs. “He never challenges us in that class.”
“I guess not.” she shrugs. “Easy grade, right?”
“Sounds like it.” he gives a casual nod. “When’s it due?”
“Tuesday.”
“Sweet.” he nods, eyes skimmed across the shelves before landing on a cornflower blue hardback. Harry chose books by their cover a lot. Not metaphorically, just literally.
“Ready?”
He nods again. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Once they’d both gotten their book signed out, they started down the path across the patch of grass, making their way to their next class that they had together.
“So you really didn’t check your phone all weekend?”
He shakes his head. “No, my phone was off ‘cos Gem was visiting over the weekend, remember?” he taps on the side of her head with one finger. “Helloooo, earth to Y/N, you were there.”
“Quit it!” she scolds, swatting his hand away. “Yeah, I think I remember her. She’s the least annoying Styles’ sibling, right?”
Harry unexpectedly clutches his chest, wincing in pain. “Ouch, ow!”
Panic rushed through her, the first thing popping into her mind was that he was having an asthma attack. “Haz, are you okay?” she drops her bag onto the ground so that she can help him. “You’re scaring me, do you need your inhaler?”
He leans over, eyes squeezed closed. One hand is resting on his knee, the other still grasping at his sternum.
“My ego...it hurts.”
As soon as the words registered, anger washed over her, jaw rippling before punching him in the bicep.
“You’re such a little shit.”
“Oi, tha’ hurt!” he laughs, which makes her even more angry, whisking her bag off the ground and walking away from him as quickly as possible.
He lets out a lighthearted sigh before starting to jog up to her. “C’mon, wait up.”
“Go away.” she grumbles, quickening the pace of her steps towards the building that their next class was in. Her hand was less than a foot away from reaching the door, about to push it open but she was no match for his longer legs as he jogged to catch up with her.
“Hey, hey.” he manages to get her hand in his grasp. She turns around in his grip, eyes fiery with vex.
“What.”
“C’mon, don’t be like that.” he frowns, moving so that he’s holding both of her hands in his as he stood in front of her. “Please? M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the brick wall behind her. “Yes you did.”
“Let me make it up to you?” he offers, resting his palm on the rough surface above her head.
“Whatever you want.”
The pounding heartbeat in her ears is deafening, but the prank that he’d just pulled wasn’t quickly forgotten.
“I’ll let you know when I think of something.” Pushing herself off the wall, she turns and pushes the door open to the classroom, leaving a sad Harry behind. He trudged along behind her, silently moping before sitting next to her. Not even a minute after they sat down, Harry was leaning over to her, trying to get her attention.
“Y/N, please.” he whines, laying his head on her shoulder. “M’sorry.”
The butterflies in her stomach were crumbling her resolve, and she lays her cheek on top of his curls. “It’s okay.” he can hear the smile in her quiet voice. He peers up at her, an endearing smile beaming back at her.
“Not mad at me anymore?” he clarifies, voice filled with hope.
“How long have we been best friends?” she laughs. “Y’know I can never stay mad at you.”
“We were babies, don’t you remember?” he snickers. “Like, actual babies.”
Neither of them really remember.
Harry and Y/N’s parents had been neighbors and friends for years before either of them were born, and when Harry was almost two, they’d given birth to a beautiful baby girl.
“Harry, look.” Anne coos to her son as he sits on her lap. “See the baby?”
He stops playing with his teddy, toddling over to the sound of his mummy’s voice and he’s so fascinated, probably because he’s never seen a real baby before.
“I hold her?”
The new mum says “of course” before she gives her baby to Anne, now holding her in Harry’s lap.
“I pet?”
He carefully lifts a chubby hand, places it on her tummy and pats gently at the pale lavender onesie.
“My sweet boy.” Anne kisses the top of his head, smoothing out his blonde bangs.
Harry leans down and pushes a soft kiss onto her cheek, and it’s safe to say both mums melt at the sight.
“They’ll be best friends for sure.”
He looks up at the baby’s mum. “She seepin’?”
She nods with a smile. “Yeah, she's sleepin’.”
He gives her another kiss on her cheek before speaking again, this time in a hushed voice.
“Night Night, baby.”
“Our mums are never gonna let us forget that day.” he groans, twisting open the cap of the drink in his hands.
“Or that you had a crush on me.”
He nearly chokes on his juice, making her split into a fit of giggles.
“Maybe I did.” he admits, leaning his elbows onto the desk. “So what?”
“You definitely did, remember when you kissed me?”
His cheeks heat up at her teasing, arms crossing on top of the desk before laying his head down in embarrassment. He cracks one eye open at her laughing. “y/nnnn.”
When Harry was five and Y/N was four, he asked if he could kiss her, at school.
“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world.” Harry tells her as his fingers draw in the dirt.
“That’s what my mummy and daddy tells me!” she cheers, and he may only be five years old but he knows that no other girl on the playground would happily sit in the dirt with him like she would. Her cheeks are resting against her hands and Harry thinks that they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen.
“Can we kiss now?”
She thinks for a moment before speaking.
“You can’t tell your mummy, because she might tell my mummy and we’ll be in trouble.”
“Won’t tell anyone, not even Niall.”
Her eyes go wide with a gasp. Niall was his best friend, he must really mean business.
“Really?”
“Promise.” he holds out his pinky for her to squeeze.
Unfortunately for them, while Y/N was over next door at Harry’s for a playdate Anne caught them kissing in the back garden and they were both forced into the friend zone. Y/N was super sad, and Harry didn’t like that one bit, so he tried to make her feel better.
“Don’t cry, someday when we’re grown ups we can kiss and hold hands anytime we want! We can be best friends ‘til then, okay?”
“The start of an epic friendship.” he reminisces, flashing her a wink.
“Good times and bad.” she nods, and the mood drifts to sad silence.
“We’ve really been there through everything, huh?” he acknowledges, meeting her gaze.
When Harry was twelve and Y/N was eleven, Harry’s dad left. Left his family with nothing and Harry was devastated.
“How could he? This isn’t fair to any of you.”
Y/N was standing in Anne’s kitchen listening to her painstakingly tell her what had just happened. He’d left while Anne was working and Gemma and Harry were at school, leaving the remainder of the family devastated.
“I know darling, but we’ll get through this. I’m worried about Harry, he ran off. He was so upset. Do you know where he could be?”
“I’ll find him.”
* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚
Her mind and legs worked together to pedal faster than she ever had before through the park behind their street. As soon as she crosses the bridge she sees him. He’s sitting under their favorite oak tree, knees dew up to his chest.
“Harry!”
She throws her bike down and sprints to him, falling next to him.
He looks up, releases the grip on his hair and reaches out, grasping her hands and she quickly pulls him into a hug and she’d never held anyone so tight in her entire life. Her own hot tears started to fall from her face at the sound of his heartbreaking cries and she doesn’t know how long they stayed there like that, slowly moving her fingers through his curls as she held him. He let out a whimper when she forced his face out of her neck, cradling his cheeks in her hands. He looked so defeated and she had to use every ounce of strength in her body not to sit there and cuddle him against this tree all night. His mum and sister needed him, and he needed them. Her fingers brushed across his wet cheeks and he leaned into her touch as she repeated the action.
“I’m so sorry, Haz.” another sob escapes him at her words. “You don’t have to talk about it. You can cry, scream and yell, whatever you want...but we gotta get home., it’s getting dark.”
“Don’t wanna go back there.” he shakes his head and tightens his hold on your shirt.
“H, your mum and sister need you, and you need them.”
“I need you.”
Y/N’s heart flutters and she’s not sure why, but she’s sure Harry can feel it because he’s still fisting her shirt.
“I’ll stay the night at yours, my mum won’t care.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’ll get over it.”
Understandably, of course her father wasn’t too fond of the idea of his daughter sleeping over at her best friend’s house, because he was a boy. But she reassured her dad countless times that “boys were gross” so he begrudgingly allowed it.
They’d cuddled countless times, that night was no different. She held him, stroking his hair some more as they talked. The mood is lightened after awhile. Even though the healing process hasn’t even really begun yet. Harry was gonna be okay, because he had Y/N.
“Gemma gets so jealous because she can’t have boys in her room.” he jokes, making her giggle.
“She’s also fifteen and has a boyfriend.” she reasons. “We’re just best friends.”
“True.”
Comfortable silence engulfed Harry’s room for a few moments, the vibe was mellow from each other’s presence before Y/N spoke again.
“It’s gonna be okay.” her voice was barely above a whisper, brushing the stray hairs away from his forehead.
“You don’t know that.” he whispers, peering up at her. The moonlight shining through the window is enough to illuminate their faces while they talk.
“Yeah I do.” she argues softly. “It’s bad right now, but it’ll be okay someday. Promise.”
When Y/N was seventeen, her world came crashing down.
“Harry, can you come down please?”
He quickly put down his phone, shoving it into his pocket when he heard the urgency in his mum’s voice coming from downstairs. Ever since his dad left he’d grown closer to his mum and sister, more protective.
He rushes downstairs, finding her in the kitchen.
“Mum? What's wrong?”
“I need you to go next door and check on Y/N, alright?”
His face fills with confusion and fear but Anne doesn’t give him any time to respond.
“I just got off the phone with Rachelle, she and Will had gone out to dinner and he started to have some terrible pain. They’re at the hospital now, they did some tests…they found something and they think it might be cancer.”
Harry’s face falls.
“Oh God, Mum—”
“I know, baby, I know.”
“Does she know? She had to work after school today, does she know?”
“Her mum said she was going to call her once she’d gotten home from work.”
“She gets off at eight thirty,” he pulls out his phone and sees that it’s nine fifteen. “She should be home by now.” He briskly walks over to the window that faces Y/N’s house.
“Her car’s there.” he reveals. “M’goin’ over there. I’ll be back.”
She agrees and without another word Harry’s at her front door.
Locked.
“Shit, shit, shit.” he mutters to himself before remembering the spare key under the flower pot by the door. Once it’s retrieved, his trembling hands fumble with the piece of metal before successfully unlocking the door and pushing it open. As soon as he’s inside, he hears muffled crying from upstairs and it’s all he needs to hear before he’s rushing upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom. Normally he would never just walk in her room uninvited, but when he saw the white wooden door decorated with silver stars all over, he wasn’t going to stop until he got to her. As soon as he pushes her bedroom door open, the sight alone is enough to make him cry. He watches her yank her desk chair out, screaming as she throws it as hard as she could across the floor.
“Y/N!”
He rushes to her, pulling her in the most protective hug he’s ever given. Her arms retreated to frightfully gripping the front of his shirt, knees buckling. They ended up crumpled on the floor, backs against the wall as he held her. Her gut wrenching cries were hushed by Harry’s embrace.
“Hey, hey—shhh. M’here, look at me, okay? Deep breaths, breathe with me, okay?”
“I can’t, it’s too much. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.” her cries made his heart ache, all he wanted to do was make it better, but he just couldn’t.
Needless to say, they’ve been there for each other through everything. Y/N’s dad passed away later that year, leaving everyone devastated. Harry waited a year to go to college to be there for Y/N and her mum.
“Are you excited for NYU?”
She tried to sound happy for him, but her voice was laced with sadness. His back was facing her so she couldn’t see his face as he glanced at the sunset out her window.
“M’not going.” he admits, voice small and her jaw goes slack.
“What? What d’you mean you’re not going?”
“Can’t leave you two here like this.” he turns around and tears are brimming his waterline. “Already talked it over with mum, and the bakery’s not really willin’ t’let me go yet.”
“Harry.” she warns.
“Hey,” it’s alright.” he pulls her into a protective hug. “We’ll get everything sorted out, okay? It’ll be nice to take a year off from school anyway.”
His lighthearted tone isn’t enough to soothe her anxiety. “You don’t have to put your life on hold for me.”
“I’m not.” he promises. “We’ve been there for each other through everything, yeah?” he pulls away slightly, giving her a warm smile. “That doesn’t just stop because we aren’t kids anymore.”
“We make a good team.”
Her words warm his heart and he turns to her, nodding with a sweet smile.
“Yeah, we do, don’t we?”
* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚
Her.
Admire her.
Tell her how the crinkles in her eyes are like crescent moons, glowing when she smiles.
Watch how she giggles at your jokes that aren’t funny, and how coy she gets when you’re sweet with her.
She couldn’t help but get lost in books like this. Somehow they managed to capture everything she’s ever been through, and everything she’s struggling with now. It was torture, really, being in love with her best friend, seeing him everyday, hiding her feelings from him in fear of their friendship being ruined forever. She couldn’t even fathom if that horror were to become her reality, she surely wouldn’t survive the heartbreak.
Touch her.
Tell her that the stretch marks that paint her skin are magnificent, and that her body is just one dazzling part of who she is.
Snuggle her with tender touches and soft fingertips, love on every curve of her body.
She found herself daydreaming at times like this—the midday sun beaming down on her through the window of the library as she sat in one of the lounge chairs, reading one of her favorite poetry books. She would think about how Harry would touch her if she were his. How he would caress her skin, what his lips could do, where his hands would go.
Adore her.
Cherish her.
Her reading was quickly interrupted, her vision obstructed by a pair of hands covering her eyes followed by a familiar voice.
“Guess who.”
“Uh...Bigfoot?”
“Heeeey.” he protests, moving to sit in the lounge chair next to hers. “S’mean.”
She giggles at his pouting, squeezing one of his cheeks. “Poor baby.”
“Ouch.” he brought his hand up to his face to rub the sore skin. “Like beatin’ up on me, do yeh?”
“Just a little.” she winks.
“Yeah, yeah.” he playfully rolls his eyes before turning his attention to the book in his best friend’s hands. “Whatcha readin’?”
Her heartbeat quickened as she realised that she had been caught, swiftly shutting the book and tucking it into her bag. “Nothing.”
“Nooo, lemme see!”
He didn’t give her another chance to respond, knowing her all too well. She shied away from his words, cheeks splashing with pink.
“C’mon, pleeease?” he frowns, nudging her arm with his elbow. He notices her apprehension, not wanting to push her.
“S’just me.”
His voice is softer, giving her a fluttering feeling as he leans in closer. “Y’trust me, right?”
The close proximity made her heart thump in her chest. She gives him a slight nod before quietly replying. “Yeah.”
He gently bites down on his lower lip, his eyes flickering from her eyes, down to her lips.
Were they going to kiss?
“Why won’t you tell me what you were readin’?” he quirks with a small smile, tilting his head slightly. You can see the wheels turning. “S’it naughty?”
“No!” she gives him a look, as if to say stooooop, Haz.
He chuckles at her nervousness, patiently waiting as she keeps fumbling over her words, avoiding his captivating eyes. “No...no, no, it’s a...it’s just a book.”
“Obviously.” he blinks. “What kind of book.”
“Just poetry.” she mumbles, hoping he would drop the subject quickly.
“S’it for your poetry analysis thing? What kind of—”
“Harryyyyy.” she whines, hiding her face in her hands.
“M’not doin’ anything! Can’t I be interested in what you’re readin’?” he defends, resting his cheek in his hand, elbow leaning on the arm of the chair.
“M’only teasing.” he swipes his fingers across her heated cheeks as he speaks softly to her. “You’re bein’ so shy.”
It’s so adorable, he thinks to himself.
“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.” he reassures. “M’starving. Did you still wanna go to lunch?”
She perked up at his question, the book in her bag eventually forgotten, just as she wished. “Please, I’m so hungry.”
“Can we get—”
“Chinese?” his face lights up. “Please please please?”
“We had that last weekend.”
“So? S’the best food ever, and since when do you turn down chinese food?” he rests his head on the table. “I’ll help you with French Lit.”
“Compelling argument, I didn’t know you were taking a debate class.”
“So funny.” he rolls his eyes. “C’mon, please?”
* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚
“I love chow mein so much.”
Y/N’s words barely register in his ears, let alone his brain as he admired the sight of her, eyes closed in bliss as she slurps another noodle.
She’s just so fucking cute.
“I love you so much.”
“What?”
He’s sure his heart had just dropped into his stomach and his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud!
“Didn’t say anything.” he mumbles, mentally cursing himself after feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks. He avoids her gaze as he shoves another spoonful of hot and sour soup into his mouth.
“So how’s your story for creative writing going?” she wonders, twirling some noodles with her fork, because no, she didn’t know how to use chopsticks, and yes, Harry never missed an opportunity to tease her about it.
“Awful.” he pouts, to which she mirrors his expression.
“You stuck?”
“Very.” he groans. “Just can’t seem to get the words out, y’know?”
“I’ve been there.” she nods. “Do you want some help?”
“Please.” he begged, giving her puppy eyes. “S’due next friday, been workin’ on it every night and still can’t get a single word out.”
“I think you just need to take a break, babes.” she offers. “Let’s have a sleepover this weekend and I’ll help you.”
He gives a sigh of relief, making her laugh. “You’re a gem. What would I do without you?”
“Your life would definitely be less exciting.” she notes, taking another bite.
He was silent for a moment, probably thinking of a comeba—
“At least I know how to use chopsticks.”
“You won’t teach me!” she pouts at his teasing. “Quit being mean.”
“Want me to teach you?” he perks, peering up at her.
“Yes.” she lets out a breathless giggle while nodding.
He playfully huffs, slightly rolling his eyes as he moves to sit behind her on her bed.
“Okay, so you hold them like this…”
* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚
Friday, October 12
Dear Diary,
I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him. I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend? Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his. How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much. Sometimes I feel like I should just tell him, bite the bullet, rip off the band aid and hope to God that our friendship isn’t ruined forever. In a perfect world,
Y/N drops her pen at the vibration of her phone.
Harry is calling…
“Hello?”
“We’ve known each other for how long and you still answer with hello?”
She lets out a breathless laugh. “Are you having a bad day or are you just making fun of me for shits and giggles?”
“Lil bit of both, yeah?” she can hear the cheekiness in his voice. “We still havin’ a sleepover this weekend? Might have to do it at yours, Niall’s havin’ a party and I doubt we’ll get anything done.”
She could hear the sheepish tone in his voice. “Oh no, if you wanna be at the party we can totally reschedule.” she offers.
Harry scrunches up his nose. “Need to get this paper done, m’never gonna finish it with all the noise.” he’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Besides, I’d rather spend the weekend with you.”
She feels her heart flutter at his admission, cheeks tingling with heat.
“ Okay...can you bring some snacks?”
There were no two humans on earth that loved fruit more than Harry and Y/N. so around fifteen minutes later, when Harry showed up to Y/N’s door with two smoothies, she melted like sugar.
“Berry for you.” he hands you the icy purple smoothie in his left hand. “Strawberry banana for me.”
“Awh, thank you!” she gently pinches one of his cheeks. “You’re so sweet.”
“Oi, worse than my mum, aren’t you?” he rubs at the newly pink cheek.
“No.” she defends. “C’mon, I’ll help you with your story so you don’t drag it out all weekend.”
“I resent that.” he mutters, sitting beside her on her bed as he flips open his laptop.
“Do you have an idea of what you wanna write?”
“I have a little bit finished, now, about five thousand words. Wanna have a look?”
Y/N reads it over and it’s nothing short of a masterpiece so far. How can he be so pretty and talented at the same time?
“This is beautiful,” she gapes, turning to look up at him. “This is so good, H.”
“Oh, stop.” He sheepishly brushes off her praise. “Don’t think it’s bad so far, just need to come up with a conflict.”
“Just figure out what breaks your characters, what makes them the most vulnerable, what would completely crush them?”
“Losing each other.”
“More specific?” she tries, staring at the screen in front of her. “It’ll help with the details.”
“Rory’s afraid to tell Daisy that he’s in love with her.” he says. “He’s afraid that, if she finds out, it’ll ruin their friendship.”
Y/N’s lungs felt empty, like all the air had been sucked out by Harry’s words.
“Okay, um,” she gulps, trying to collect her thoughts. “So...write about that, and see where the story takes you.”
Three hours later
“Can we take a break?” he groans, laying back on the pillows of her bed. “M’starving.”
“Me too.” she pouts, fiddling with her hands. “Whatcha hungry for?”
“Mmm,” Harry thinks for a few moments before speaking up. “A veggie grill just opened up downtown, we should go there!”
“You’re making me crave nachos.”
“You always crave nachos.”
“Why do you always have to call me out?” she whines, giving him a bashful glance.
“S’fun, innit?” he smirks, nudging her shoulder with his bicep.
“No.” she giggles, lying down next to him. “I’m gonna go get a shower then we can go.”
“Okay.”
An endearing smile adorned his face as she snuggled slightly into the soft pillows. Her eyes leisurely blink at him, falling closed after a few seconds.
“Sleepy?”
“Mhm.”
“Thought you wanted a shower?” he hummed. Although, he wouldn’t mind staying here all night. “You can stay here, I’ll go pick up some food.”
“No, it’s okay.” she yawns, pushing herself up off the bed. “I’ll be quick.”
* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚
Harry gets bored easily, although his best friends room was much more lovely than his. He thinks his room is pretty basic; but Y/N’s room was much more charming. The walls were painted a pale ivory, decorated with fairy lights above her bed, which was dressed with a crisp white comforter and matching pillows. The knitted plum blanket that Harry had gotten her ages ago for Christmas was at the end of her bed. He vividly remembers when he had given it to her.
Her eyes were sparkling with joy as she pulled the blanket out of the box.
“Your mum helped me make it.” he mentions with a sheepish smile. “She was so patient, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”
“It’s beautiful.” she beams, pulling it close to her heart before looking up at him as they sat on the floor of Harry’s living room. “I love it.”
He gives her a soft smile, but he feels melancholic energy surrounding him. He keeps telling himself that he didn’t have a reason to be sad, because they weren’t together...but all he wanted was for her to be his. She was so cute, beanie snug on her head under the glow of the Christmas tree.
“Can I ask you somethin’?”
To which she nods. “Of course.”
“Do you think,” his lips are pressed together in thought for a moment. “Do you think that fate is real?”
“Like kismet?” she cocks her head with a smile and he nods, breaking into a laugh.
“Yeah. Yeah, like kismet.”
“I think,” she takes a moment, fumbling with her hands before looking up at him. “Yeah, I think it’s real.”
Ten thousand words. Harry has to write ten thousand words by next Friday and he doesn’t have a single word typed out. Creative writing was supposed to be fun, and he had to write a romance fiction piece? Harry didn’t exactly thrive when it came to love. In fact, his love life was bone dry, to put it lightly. Other girls were...boring, compared to Y/N. Harry was charming and romantic and sweet and loving—but he didn’t want some random girl, he wanted Y/N to be his girl. Pining over her was his full time job, always has been.
He walks over to her desk, admiring the pictures that graced the wall just above. One of the photos that catches his eye is Y/N, probably about three or four, and her dad is reading her a bedtime story, her mum most likely being the one taking the photo. Sorrow washes over him, because it never gets easier, does it?
His eyes float to a few photos of Harry and Y/N laying next to each other on their friend Jess’s parents house on the terrace. It was the first time they’d ever gotten drunk and they were trashed. The first photo is them attempting to sit up for a picture.
“You guys are so drunk.”
“M’not drunk.” Harry glances at Millie and Jess, who were behind the camera. “M’Harry! Who’s drunk?”
Harry’s rebuttal left both of them bursting into a fit of giggles.
“Haz, Jess wants a picture of us, pleeeeaaaase?”
Harry holds himself up by leaning back with one hand on the ground, the other arm slung around Y/N’s shoulder. He then turns to nuzzle his nose into her hair.
“Y’so pretty.” he murmurs drunkenly into her ear.
“Shut up, you’re drunk.”
“M’not, m’serious.”
The last one from that night was them cuddling on the sofa at the end of their night, Harry’s face nuzzled into her shoulder as they slept soundly well into the afternoon.
His fingertips brushed across his favorite photo of them. They were working together at the bakery, and Harry had just traced his flour dipped fingertips in a line across Y/N’s cheek before she retaliated by sweeping some icing across the bridge of his nose. He grins from ear to ear at the memory.
“Hey Y/N, guess what?”
She turned around to face him when he abruptly drew a line with his flour dipped fingertips across her cheek.
Her jaw went slack at his bold action before icing was swiped across the bridge of his nose.
“Now we’re even.” that is, until she flicks some of the remaining blue icing from her fingers onto his face.
“Aw, c’mon!” he wipes his face with his apron before narrowing his eyes. “Really?”
“You started it.” she pointed out and Harry gave her a shrug.
“I am so gonna get you back the next time we bake at my house.”
His eyes fall down to her desk, and he promises he didn’t mean to see it. It was his name, in her handwriting, written in purple gel pen inside an open book. Was it a journal?
Friday, October 12
Dear Diary,
Shit.
He looked away for a moment, lip caught between his teeth. Should he read it? No, but he couldn’t help himself.
I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him.
Him? Who’s she talking about? Does she like someone? The empty feeling in his chest isn’t a good feeling by any means.
I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend?
All the color drains from Harry’s face.
“Is she talking about me?” he murmurs.
Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his.
His heart flutters at the mention of his name, aching at the next line.
How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much.
He felt like he was going to cry. How could this girl not know how much of a sucker he is for her? His heart thumped inside his chest and he could feel the heat radiating off his flushed cheeks.
Okay, don’t panic. Just calm down, don’t freak out.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what he had just read whilst trying to decide what to do. Does he just tell her? Show her the page? No, she’ll be so angry that he read her diary, who does that?
In that moment, he chooses to do the only thing that makes sense.
He listens to his heart.
* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚
She’d just hopped out of the shower when she heard a knock on her bathroom door.
“Hey, s’just me.” Harry’s voice clarifies through the wood. “Already ordered some food, m’gonna go and pick it up, I’ll be back.”
“I can go with you if you want-”
“No, s’okay! Be back in fifteen.”
And he’s gone.
After exiting her bathroom, she changes into some comfy clothes before deciding to read something from her book collection until Harry gets back. WHen she turns to go over to her bookshelves, she sees it.
A familiar lavender book, her diary, was lying open on her desk, and her heart sinks. Had he read what she’d written earlier? That must be why he was in such a hurry to leave! She probably scared him off. Y/N’s heart was racing as she stepped closer and realised that the page the diary was open to wasn’t written in her handwriting.
It was Harry’s handwriting.
Hi lovie, it’s Harry.
I was too nervous to tell you this to your face, so I’m gonna write out my feelings.
You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I absolutely adore everything about you.
I love how you talk in your sleep, and yes, you do talk in your sleep. I know how much you love to snuggle when you’re sleepy or sad or you just want a cuddle...and how you still sleep with a night light on like when we were small. You always tell me it’s so you can see in case you need to get up and have a wee in the middle of the night, but I know it’s because you’re still scared of the dark.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was she dreaming?
I love how you crinkle your nose when you laugh, and how your smile glows like moonlight and how you play with your hands when you don’t know what to say. I love your love for books, and how much better your taste in music is than me. I love how you love to snuggle, especially when you’re...inebriated.
She giggles silently to herself, because he was so right. Not that he was any better.
I could go on forever, but I don’t wanna get caught writing this.
I am so in love with you, Y/N.
Love, H. x
Y/N didn’t know how to feel. Her heart was warm, but she was so nervous. What does this mean for them? How will this affect their friendship? Hundreds of questions run through her brain until she hears a knock on the door.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” she whispers. “Okay, just... be chill, please be chill.”
Trying to calm herself down in a matter of seconds was pointless. Walking over to the door, she took a deep breath in before opening the door.
“Hi.” he blinks at her, letting out a light laugh before setting down the two paper bags in his hands. “M’back. They didn’t have the-”
“I read it.”
He avoids her gaze and he feels frozen by her words, digging his vans into the carpet.
“Harry.” she breathes. “Say something.”
His eyes flicker to meet hers, taking a step forward.
“I...I love you.”
Y/N feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest, like she just came for air after being kept under water for too long.
“If this makes things weird, I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, but I love you to pieces and I-”
“I love you too.”
His smile is pure joy before he takes her hand in his, pulling her closer to him.
“Can I kiss you?” he begs, almost breathless. “Please.”
She nods, and he cradles her cheeks in his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.
His lips were so soft, moving with hers like they were made for each other.
Harry was sitting on the edge of her bed, her thighs straddling his hips and she sat across his lap. Her hands were in his hair, the fluttery tendrils twirled around her fingers. His hands are settled on her waist, slowly moving to her thighs.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs the serious question against her lips and she nods quickly. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” he breathes. “M’just checkin’.”
“It’s okay.” she laughs breathlessly against his lips. “Everything's okay.”
Reluctantly, he pulls back slightly to look at her, searching for any sort of doubt, but there was none.
“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”
His voice is cautious. “M’not goin’ anywhere, ever. Don’t have to rush anything.”
“Just go with the flow, H.” she murmurs, sliding her hands up his clothed biceps.
“Sorry, who are you?” he raises his eyebrows, a baffled expression on his face. “Since when do you ever go with the flow?”
“A lot of things have changed today.” she confesses, hands resting on his shoulders. “Why not?”
They’d always felt so safe with each other, so now was no different.
They both dived back into the kiss. Harry’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip, testing the waters before lips and tongue worked together to deepen the kiss.
“Wanna ride my thigh?” he wonders, mumbling against her lips. “Don’t have to if-”
“Yeah. yes.” she gulps, moving to slide her shorts down while he shuffles out of his jeans. Once they were both without pants, they didn’t waste anymore time.
“C’mere, darlin’.” he flicked his fingers, encouraging her back onto his lap.
“Just feel my touch.”
The tone of his voice was unbelievably hot, raspy and low as their lips continuously brushed. His hands grip her hips, guiding her movements.
“Feel good?” he suckles on her bottom lip, drawing a whimper past her lips. She’s rocking against his bare thigh, coarse hair stimulating her even closer to the edge.
“Feels so good, Harry.”
Her moans are nothing short of melodic, chasing her orgasm through the lace. He pushes her t-shirt up, kisses are decorated down her neck until his mouth is on one of her breasts. She tilts her head back at the suckling sensation with another moan, and it’s so fucking intoxicating to Harry. His tongue flicks her nipple a few more times before lifting his head.
“Like that?” he hums, moving to cup her breasts. She nods and his thumbs start to tweak her nipples and she arches her back at the feeling.
“Harry.” she whimpers, gripping the material of his shirt in her fists. “Please.”
“Whatcha need, tell me darlin’.”
“M’gonna come, m’gonna come.”
He gives a thick moan, hands moving to hold her backside. “Know you are. C’mon angel, you can let go.”
His sweet words coax her through her orgasm as she’s coming down, and she feels like she’s floating.
“Did you like that?”
“Mhm.” she nods, her eyes fluttering closed as Harry’s hand brushes some baby hairs off her forehead. “Wanna keep going.”
“Jeez, at least let me take you out to dinner first.”
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Trying To Balance With A Part Of Yourself Missing
Summary: Thor bargains with Odin on Loki's sentence, and he wins. Loki is moved with the Avengers to fix his past mistakes. But Odin's term changes everything, and Loki's foe is not their mistakes, but their self-image.
Warnings: each chapter has individual, the work in general is pretty dark
Notes: When a dialogue of Loki is in bold, he is speaking English. And when a line is in italics without a dialogue, it's an intrusive thought.
Chapter 5: The Doctor
Chapter summary: Banner takes Loki for the tests.
Warnings: Language, gender dysphoria, gender dysmorphia, internalized racism, intrusive thoughts, needles, blood, medical themes, mentions of child neglect [not on screen], mentions of self harm [not on screen]
First | Previous | AO3 | Next
This time, Friday wakes them up, reminding them of the appointment with Banner. Loki groans and drags himself out of the bed and into the bathroom, it's better to get rid of that smell, at least for as long as it can hold.
At least Loki doesn't have to look at their body as they wash themselves, an advantage of blindness they didn't think of until now. Still, being forced to touch all the time is unpleasant and uncomfortable to no end. And trying to wash his hair without scratching his hands on the horns or his claws scratching his scalp is a task unimaginably difficult.
Loki now understands why Jötnar run around naked, wearing a shirt with these horns is almost impossible. But, they must hide the chest plate, at least from everyone but Thor. And Banner, after the examination. And, shit, he probably has to take breakfast with them…
They sigh and glance at the mirror, only to make sure they don't look so much for a mess. His appearance is acceptable, so he takes the now charged earpiece and walks away, wearing it as Friday starts instructing.
A hand touches their shoulder, making them flinch away. Thor, the owner of the hand, mutters something, probably an apology, but he can't hear it thanks to Friday. They take a breath out and smile at Thor, muttering a good morning. Thankfully, Friday stops talking.
"How are you feeling? You look…" Thor trails off, trying to appear as polite as possible.
"F-f-feverish? It's fi-fine, just-just a b-bad day," he brushes off, suddenly glad that he doesn't need Friday's translations.
"But, you're ill," Thor argues, making Loki sigh.
"I'm not-not, it's a bad d-day," they answer.
"Loki, you can't fool me. You're unwell, why don't you admit it?" he groans. Truth be told, Loki rarely admits any weakness with ease. As long as one can walk, there's no need for whining, Odin had said countless times and Loki never stopped obeying.
"I d-d-do. It's a b-bad da-day," he speaks slowly and as clearly as possible.
"Loki, you're having a fever. It's not just a bad day, and you are allowed to admit that you're ill. Please," Thor begs, actually begs. If Loki wasn't so pissed off, they'd be touched.
He pulls Thor closer, mostly to maintain some secrecy. "I am on m-m-my pe-pe-period," they hiss, watching as Thor's last brain cell comes to life.
"Oh… well, this explains the irritability of yours, brother. You know your patience always runs low these days," Thor nods, all matter-of-factly. Loki has to take deep breaths and remind themselves again and again that murder is a convicted crime, and they should not get locked up in a Midgardian prison. Or any prison, anytime soon.
Luckily, Thor remains silent after that. The only one who breaks the silence is Friday, reminding Loki that he can't eat before a blood test, or the results will not be accurate. Fine, they didn't really feel hungry anyway.
Perhaps, if you skip today's food entirely, you'll lose that disgusting bloating of yours. He tries hard to not grimace at the thought. No, they have to remind themselves, it will leave after a few days, it always does. Just do the damn tests and then eat, it's not that hard.
When they reach the kitchen, Loki can feel eyes on him and a mix of confusion and irritation in the air. Alright, just stay quiet and it will pass.
Wanda mutters a good morning, her magic swirling around her like some form of shield or blanket. Loki repeats the wish, forcing a smile. They don’t know which is worse, the jealousy building up or the guilt over the last time they listened to that feeling.
Thor helps him find a chair in the bright chaos, and even pulls it. For fucks sake, they're not unable to sit on a fucking chair! He tries to prove it by being the one who adjusts it on the table.
"Morning, dude. How're you feeling?" a man asks, Wilson. Just by his voice, he sounds kind, less judgemental.
"Fine, thank you for asking," they answer, plastering another fake smile (one of the best skills being a prince has given them).
Still, Wanda is seeing through it and attempts to find out, by using a simple mind invading spell. One that makes the base of Loki's skull feel ablaze. As loud as he can, he thinks of the word stop, making Wanda pause and retreat, her curiosity replaced with shame.
Then, a conversation occurs. Loki doesn't want to take part, but the combination of the voices and Friday's translations is overwhelming, making his head pound. Friday catches the message and stops translating, but the voices are still too fucking loud. Loki sighs and decides to just take a sip of water, and see if it'll help, but it turns to ice before it touches their lips. But fuck, he's thirsty and in pain.
A hand touches their shoulder, and they jump up, turning around to see a short person dressed in purple. "Are you ready for the tests?" He asks, Banner. Loki nods and gets up, pardoning himself before walking away.
"Are you okay?" he asks, making Loki groan.
"Wh-wh-wh-why does e-e-everyone ask me-me if I'm okay? I'm f-f-fine!" they snap, stopping only after feeling Banner freeze.
"I asked because you looked like you were about to start crying over there. No offence, they can be loud sometimes, but you didn't seem like you were taking it well," he answers, half expecting his skull to be crushed. But Loki is just ashamed he didn't hide the pain better.
"N-n-n-none t-taken. Noise is not exactly we-we-we-welcome, and I used to to-to-tone it down w-w-with spells. Now, I c-c-c-can't," they explain, just beginning to collect themselves.
"You know, you can ask Friday to deafen, if you use the earpieces. It helps," he suggests. Loki nods, happy with the silence that they fall into. At least Banner doesn't feel like he has to talk all the time, even though he's nervous. He's still afraid of him, even though it's not necessary any more.
The lab is a fucking bright room, Loki has to cover their eyes and let Banner navigate them, after lowering the lights.
During the examination, Loki comes to realize that Asgard and Midgard are opposite when it comes to healing. First, Banner promises secrecy, any information stays private until Loki asks for a leak, or in a life or death situation. And then, he just asks about everything and listens to the answer. No doubt, no comments and no painful examinations with leeches or smelly potions that make people’s skin pink. Well, the examination on light sensitivity was painful, and Loki swears to piss on the grave of whoever thought a flashlight in the eyes is a good idea, but the rest were fine.
When he was young, Odin would not easily believe Loki, no matter what. The times when they were forced in hunts that were leaving them in the healing wing for weeks or feasts until they faint on their plate due to fever are uncountable. The show would usually begin with Loki faking the illness because he’s lazy, come to its climax when Loki would be deemed delicate and weak while being tossed in the healing wing and the parade of hypocrisy would end after Loki returns to his chamber only to be forgotten there. Loki learned two lessons from this. One, if they can stand up, they're not ill, and they shouldn't bother other people with whining. And two, if he's truly ill, it's wiser to deal with it on his own than let others draw conclusions.
The change feels so odd, yet it’s so welcome.
Until the time for the blood test.
"Just follow my instructions, I'll make it as painless as I can," he promises, and then instructs Loki to lift their sleeve and show the armpit, the non-dominant one. Loki doesn't show his nervousness, and tries to appear as cold as possible when he reveals the hand, and everything he's done to it. Banner doesn't comment and doesn't show pity, but his skin grows just green enough for Loki's eyes to notice.
The other instructions were easy. Clench the fist, breathe in, breathe out and relax the hand. Banner is surprised to say the least when he sees the tube filling with blue liquid instead of red, but doesn't comment.
Do you think he could bleed you dry and be done with this shit show? Loki hitches a breath and clinches their stomach, stopping when the sound of something breaking and a hot pain blooms in their arm. Did he freeze the tube and break the needle?
Banner fetches something from a table and grabs Loki's hand, muttering something about getting the needle out. Loki hisses from the pain, and manages to freeze Banner's glove, but he still covers their hand with gauzes. The white starts turning blue and freezing in some parts, Banner is about to do something about it but Loki hums a no.
"Do you want to try again?" he asks, Loki could feel how he was expecting a negative answer. But he nods a yes and covers his right hand, so he’ll uncover the left one and clench. This time, they don't dare looking at the needle and mentally play some random songs for a distraction. Banner tells him to clench again, and then gives him some cotton to press in the hole before he vanishes behind some machine.
"What were you humming?" Banner asks, making Loki's face go ablaze.
"I… em… a song," they mutter, and mentally berate themselves for the lack of words. Banner laughs, but not out of malice. And he hands over a paper box and a bag. Loki stares at him and tilts his head, but Banner tries to brush it off as "something that's always done when someone gets a blood test". As if Loki is also a fool, apart from blind.
They're about to get dismissed and leave when Friday tell them via the earpiece that Banner will ask questions when he sees the test results. Loki sighs, it's better to be the one who tells him, right?
"Ba-banner, about th-th-the te-te-te-test, y-you may so-see some… abnormalities in th-th-the tests. It's n-normal, yet-yet-yet uncomfortable," they trail off, feeling confusion on Banner's side instead of clarity.
"Would you mind being more specific? I need to know what to ignore,"
"Hormonal, m-mostly… on, em…" he groans in frustration, feeling like an absolute fool, "on me-me-menstruation hormones… and y-y-yes, I kn-know wh-what it implies. B-but, d-don't tell anyone, only Th-th-th-thor knows," they get it out, waiting for a myriad of feeling emit from Banner. But he just makes a small oh sound and hands over another paper package.
"I guess you'll find them easier than tampons. If you finish them, just come to me. Don't try to steal Nat's, you'll be disappointed, and possibly earn a chinned tooth," he smiles, but Loki can sense the warmth from saying Romanov's name. Love, he concludes, what a complication when towards your co-worker, from what he's heard.
"W-w-w-we're done?" they raise an eyebrow and look down at Banner, glad he doesn't look afraid. Interesting, just enough inspection, and he isn't afraid any more. What a gullible scientist.
"Friday will find anything we missed, and she can help Tony make you some glasses, if you decide you want them, or inspect the brain damage from the other guy," he answers. Loki nods and is about to turn around, before thinking twice about the answer he got.
"W-w-wait, wh-wh-wh-what brain d-damage?" they blink. Apart from the nightmares, thoughts, flashbacks, headaches and general fuckery, his brain works perfectly. Well, perfectly might be an exaggeration, but the Hulk hasn’t done anything.
"You're telling me you walked around with a dead ear since the Attack and didn't notice?" Banner is now the one to raise an eyebrow.
"I w-w-was in so-so-solitary c-c-confinement until y-y-yesterday. Not much to h-h-h-hear," they explain. But… he should have heard Thor coming today in the corridor…
"Yeah, your left ear is dead, or the nerves getting messages from there to your brain. You can thank the other guy, and there's nothing to be done," he isn't exactly mild on announcing another damage on this throughout fucked up body, but it doesn't exactly matter. So, they just nod and go back to hiding under their sheets, but this time they make Friday play some music, just to cover up the silence.
~~~~~~
Taglist: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @the-emo-asgardian @rorybutnotgilmore @hybrid-in-progress @weirdfangirl2416 @darkacademicfrom2021 @nicoistrying
#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#marvel fic#tw gender dysphoria#tw body dysmorphia#tw language#tw racism#tw needles#tw blood#tw intrusive thoughts#tw medical#tw self harm#tw child neglect#cw self harm#angst#heavy angst#hurt/comfort#jotunn loki#loki needs a hug#genderfluid loki#odin's a+ parenting#incomplete#work in progress#queer characters#ace characters#aro characters
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Haikyuu! Virus AU (Random/Reader) Part 1
“I don’t fear the dark itself, but what may lurk within it.”
Warning: Blood, Gore, Character deaths and trauma
Part 2: link
Yamaguchi loathed the inky room of which he sat in. The only source of light that gave him some comfort was the natural light of the moon. Since the power in the city was out you could hear the wind blowing or the soft barking of dogs. He could barely make out the outline of team Nekoma’s manager, Y/n Shibayama. She was already knocked out as soon as her head hit the makeshift pillow. While he was wide awake, and sort of jealous that she could just sleep like everything was fine. He can’t stay mad at her for too long since her school lost their middle blocker, So Inuoka. Their team captain hasn’t been the same since. Not even a couple hours ago they too had lost another member of their group.
Ennoshita screams still wrecked his mind and the smell of rotting flesh was forever inscribed in his nose. It really should have been him who went in that trench by himself. He was the one to point out the food truck and even made a small plan to gather the canned goods. Ennoshita and him had a little dispute on who would go and by the time he turned his head to give his side to Daichi, Ennoshita was already marching down the steep hill. A couple of seconds of arguing, before he heard the sharp screech, loud enough to pierce his ear drums. The next thing he knew, Suga and Yaku were rushing down the hill to try and save him. They stopped half way before running back, a herd surrounded Ennoshita in under a minute leaving little to no gaps for escape or retrieval.
He knew deep down that it was his fault even if the others told him that there was nothing that could have been done. Yamaguchi knew that if he kept his mouth shut Ennoshita would still be alive, yelling at his second year teammates and patting us first years on the head. He tried everything to get his mind off the details, the screams and the stench. Yamaguchi’s mind even makes up certain info to scar his psyche.
Ennoshita wasn’t the only causality. At the very beginning of the outbreak, which to him felt like years, but in reality it was really a few weeks. Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, Ubugawa and Shinzen planned a last get together for the graduating third years. They all met at the training camp to play volleyball, visit Tokyo and to gain a few memories before they graduate. Really sunny that, but it wasn’t as hot, mostly a comfortable warmth that hugged his whole stature.
When it started the Yamaguchi and some of the other first years were gallery gazing at the various window shops. Yuki Shibayama was buying a couple sticks of dango for his sister, Tsukishima made a small remark of him being a real sister boy. Haiba at the time seemed to be annoying a very displeased Teshiro. A small and weak yell was heard, however it was quickly brushed off due to the large crowd. Yamaguchi stopped at a food stall that sold fries, even though they weren’t soft as he wanted them, they still tasted pretty good. Hinata and Kageyama were arguing about something. Yachi stood in the middle to make them stop their yelling since they started to draw a small crowd. Another scream echoed this time a bit more heavier. The noise left his heart beating a bit faster; it sounded kind of. . . primal. Before he could react another yell followed by a wave of screeching rang throughout the air. The howling caused even the duo to shut up for once.
He froze in place as a girl who looked no older than thirteen, a middle schooler was pinned down a lady. Her shrieks sent shivers down his spine, her dog bit the neck of the lady who fell off to the side trampled by oncoming people. The dog licking the girl’s cheek in a loving manner didn’t sense the sudden change in his owner. Her small frame was on him in a second tearing fur and flesh off his yelps and whine would fall on death ears. He managed to escape, but the large chunk left a noticeable hole in his side. Yamaguchi felt useless in that moment, his feet glued to the very dry cement he stood on. He turned to stare at Tsuki who was too engaged in his phone to notice what was transpiring around him. Yamaguchi's hand reached out for his friend, however in a split second Tsukishima was yanked from behind by a man, who looked extremely ill. Everything played in slow motion as the man bit Tsukishima on the neck and in complete shock elbowed the man square in the face. Clenching at the wound to dull the jarring pain.
Blood flowed down his neck and coated his white shirt, his headphones ripped off his ears hitting the pavement with a harsh smack. Yamaguchi remembered running to aid his best friend, dropping the fries in the process, his mind running faster than his legs and before he could even inch forward the same man and a woman gripped Tsukishima and tore his skin from his flesh. His gut wrenching screams through terror into his heart. Witnessing his childhood friend being eaten alive was a pill he tried swallowing, but soon regurgitated it back up. Throw up ran down his chin as Kageyama shoved him forward making him trip on ground beneath him. Yamaguchi noticed Hinata yelling at a very dumbfound Yachi, she stood there frozen, shaking and stunned by the madness happening around her. Everyone knew she was a very anxious and scared teenage girl, even suppressing a scream when she met the captain from Ubugawa again.
Hinata’s pleading fell on deaf ears as Yachi stared off into the chaos, her mouth slightly shifting like she was mumbling under her breath. He shouted at her as well, but Kageyama pulled him again, cutting him off half way. Yachi was lifted from her stupor the moment someone else bumped into her. She ran off so fast in the crowd shrieking before even Hinata couldn’t grab her and before he could run off to catch up with her Kageyama snatched him up from the back of his shirt. They sprinted through the thick crowd and with luck on their side made it back to the camp and collapsed on the grass from exhaustion. He took notice of the other first years slowly arriving, a dazed Inuoka clutched at his side. Haiba guided him down to the ground and ran inside. Tears fell on the back of his hands and they streamed down his face like a water spout. He lost two of his friends in less than thirty minutes that day and it wrecked him.
It sounds so much like the beginning of a movie more than anything. Even the part of when we thought everything was okay Inuoka transformed into one of those sick creatures. He tore out the throat of Nekoma’s team coach. Coach Ukai with the help of Daichi and Kuroo shoved the reanimated Inuoka out. No one talked as we listened to the moans and screeches constantly banging at the locked doors.
Yamaguchi snapped himself out of his depressing thoughts as a soft rustle startled him from the dark corner of the room.
“Go to sleep. I can feel your depressing aura from here.” Konoha grumbled.
“S-sorry.” His face grew warm from embarrassment.
Konoha groaned as he sat gazing over at one of his teammates. Washio was still sound asleep as Konoha shifted out of his own makeshift bed. “Can’t sleep?”
“Yeah, my mind’s running faster than a rabbit right now.” Konoha nodded strutting across the room to my futon, sitting down on his rump and leaning on his head on his knee. “Sorry, that I woke you up.”
“Ya know it’s nearly morning, so don’t worry about it.” Yamaguchi just nodded. “Let’s just keep it down. I really don’t wanna hear Washio complain about us keeping him up.”
“Y-you don’t have to stay up with me. You don’t know when you can sleep peacefully again, ya know.”
“Nah, it’s fine already awake now and I don’t think I can force myself too either.” He gingerly smiled back at his senior. The two young men stayed up for the rest of the night mostly talking about anything that would keep their minds off their dead friends. They yammered on about family members and past friends that still lingered from childhood. Konoha mentioned his older brother and younger sister, but soon switched the topic. Yamaguchi talked about his mother, father and his grandmother who makes his fries extra floppy for him. The memories of sitting in his living room under the kotatsu with Tsuki. The air surrounding them would usually be scented with whatever his grandmother was cooking at the time. It really made him think about some of the embarrassing situations he was in with some family members. Now he kind of wants to wake up to that familiar smell of home cooked meals and laughter.
The conversations waived from school life, hobbies to old crushes. Yamaguchi had opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, he knew it was only a crush. But, knowing that the girl he liked was presumably dead made him suffer a wave of guilt. Konoha on the other hand was shyly gazing behind himself.
“You know, I kind of have or may have developed a small crush on their manager. During my first year, we met Nekoma for the first time. Her cheeks were so plump that they bounce when you pinch them.” His facial expression stayed the same, however his cheeks were heavily flushed. “She probably doesn’t like me in that way, and that’s fine. I just don’t want it to be weird.”
“I heard that confessing can make you feel better. Maybe, I don’t really have that much experience in this or any experience for the matter.” Yamaguchi shrugged.
Konoha tore his gaze from the small frame hidden under the thin covers. “Maybe, but when shit settles down I’ll do it. Right now, seems like a very bad time.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s the better option.”
Konoha glanced around the room, seeing that the room was being illuminated by the morning sun. “Guess we’ve been talking for a while now.” Stretching, the sound of joints cracking invaded their ears, “So, wanna come with me on morning prep?”
“Yeah, sure.”
So, the day starts over. The endless cycle that now fills Yamaguchi’s life starts anew.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu au#virus#self insert#kuroo x reader#tendou x reader#oikawa x reader#konoha x reader#character death#daichi x reader#suga x reader#zombie au#virus au#haikyuu!! au#Haikyuu zombie#Haikyuu zombie au#Haikyuu deaths
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i’d be home with you // knj
summary - death is inevitable, it’s something you cannot escape. it only hurts more when it you die too young.
pairing - ghost!namjoon x female! reader
genre - angst, hurt/comfort; ghost au
word count - 7.7k
warnings - peer pressure, drugs, alcohol consumption, anxiety attack, major character deaths (duh), police, accidental deaths, crying, vomiting, drinking as a coping mechanism, communicating with the dead, psychics, moving on, acceptance of death
author’s note - this is for the final tile in my bingo ‘ghost au’. this really hurt me writing it and im sad, but i hope you guys like it
Namjoon had a lot of regrets, despite living a fairly cautious lifestyle. But since he died all he had left was regretting stuff he didn’t get to do sooner. Dying at 23 via accidental overdose? Hell of a way to die when he was someone who struggled to even tell a waiter that they gave him the wrong order, but that’s how he met his end.
There were so many things he didn’t get to experience: getting his Masters, graduating college, finding the love of his life, having children with said love of his life, growing old, retiring, spending time with grandkids if he had any. But all of that was cut short by just one single party and one single decision.
His brother, Seokjin, dragged him along to one of his dumb frat parties. All Namjoon wanted to do that evening was just study for his anthropology final that was coming up the following weekend but in his brother’s terms he needed to quote-unquote “Take a chill pill”. He dragged him over to some random townhouse a couple miles away from the university, handed him a cup of alcohol and abandoned him.
Namjoon didn’t drink, just didn’t think it was all that appealing to him. He sat silently in the corner of the room, keeping himself flush to the wall. He pretended to sip the plastic cup that was in his hand, trying not to draw any attention to himself whatsoever. It wasn’t until he was approached by a young brown haired man that his fate was sealed.
“‘Sup man, you look like you need a bit of fun.” The man said, a small smirk on his lips as he raised a small baggie of white pills.
“I- uh, I’m good. Thanks.” Namjoon quickly panicked, turning him down and quickly started looking around for his brother. This wasn’t his scene. He just wanted to go home now.
“Nah, come on man! You look like you need a bit of destressing, just take a couple. On the house.” He watched in abject horror as the guy opened the maggie and poured some into his hand. He took Namjoon’s free hand and put the pills in his palm. “Go on! Feels great.” He winked at him as he leaned against a wall, waiting for him to take the drugs.
Despite only the stranger’s gaze on him, he felt like everyone at the party was staring at him. Waiting for him to take the pills. His heart was pounding, he should give them back and just walk home. With or without Seokjin. Instead he found himself slowly lifting the pills to his mouth, throwing them in and taking a swig of the cup in his hand to wash it down. The alcohol was bitter on his tongue and they clumped together as they went down his esophagus.
“Yeaah man!” With a heart shaped smile, the man slapped him on the shoulder, “Enjoy it man. See me if you need anymore later.” And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.
Namjoon just stood there, head pounding as the lights bleared his vision and he swear he could feel the floors vibrate beneath his feet with the base of the stereo. Despite him not even moving, he felt like he was spinning and hanging upside down. Was it getting hot in here? Why did his limbs feel cold? He pushed himself from the wall, pushing his way through the sea of people between him and the way out.
“Heyyy!! Joonie! Get over here!” The voice of his brother called out to him, he turned to see the man himself walk over to him and pull him out of the crowd. “I see you were gettin’ jiggy, eh? Finally letting loose?”
“Jin, I-I don’t feel so good. I need-”
“Oh quit it Namjoon!” Seokjin scoffed at him. “Just take another drink and chillax!” He took the cup in his hand and brought it to Namjoon’s lips, forcing him to gulp down more of the burning liquid.
With that, his brother walked away. He felt himself get sucked back into the crowd of dancers, pushing and pulling him in all directions. His heartbeat was in his head, the base of the music was in his stomach. His chest was tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. All he knew at this point was the people he was surrounded by. Dancing, screaming, singing. It was loud and hot and nauseating. Yet despite the heat of the bodies around him, he felt cold. All he knew was what was in that crowd of people: sweat, heat, and constant movement.
After that the world just seemed to turn black.
He woke up the next early morning to sirens; red and blue lights flashing outside the windows. That should’ve been his first clue. His second clue should’ve been the lack of a hangover he should be having. Namjoon walked down the hallway he was in and into the living room where a couple he didn’t know were talking to police, alongside a few other party goers were all sitting on the couch.
“H-hey what’s going on?” He asked as he approached them, but he was ignored. “Um, hello?” He waved his hand, trying to catch their attention. He felt his chest tighten, what was going on? Why were they ignoring him? When he heard an officer call out for a Mr. Kim, he almost cried from relief, “That’s me!”
But the officer walked right past him and out onto the porch, where a young man sat with a blanket laid over his shoulders. “Mr. Kim, I’m sorry to bug you at this time but we need a statement.” The man said to him. The young man nodded and stood up to face the officer. To Namjoon’s horror it was Seokjin, his eyes red and puffy. He’d never seen his brother look so distraught. “Are you alright for me to ask you a few questions?”
“Yeah,” his voice croaked out.
“Did Namjoon, or anyone else in your family, have a history of drug abuse?” The question threw him for a loop.
“No!” He yelled at the officer. “I have never-”
“No, he-” Jin cut him off with a sniffle. “He’s never used drugs before, I dragged him out to this party. And-and it’s my fault he’s dead.”
Namjoon’s entire world seemed to collapse in on itself. “What?! I’m not dead! I’m right here! Seokjin! Seokjin, look at me!” He cried out as he tried to push past the threshold of the door but some invisible force kept him in. “Seokjinnie, please! Hyung!” He screamed as he watched the officer place a hand on his shoulder as his older brother sobbed.
He looked ahead of them and saw a white van labeled ‘CORNOR’ just shut its doors, only giving him a split second to see the tell-tale black body bag inside before the other door shut.
At that moment, another officer walked out the front door. Walking right through him. He watched as the man visibly shuddered before talking to the officer about giving Seokjin more time before asking questions. The air left his lungs, not that he had any in there to begin with. He clutched his chest and ran. He ran through the walls of the town house towards the back door, only for the same thing to happen at the front door happen again. An invisible barrier holding him in.
He needed to be in an enclosed space. Glancing around, he saw an open closet tucked beneath the small staircase to the master bedroom. Namjoon burst into another run and slammed the door of the closet shut and let out an ungodly scream; crying out for his mother, brother, someone, anyone to hear him and tell him it was going to be okay. The only person came was an officer to investigate the slam but no one else came. No one saw him.
He died August 28th, 1994. He was 23 years old. Cause of death was drug induced heart attack. The pills the stranger gave him were part of a bad batch or laced with something else, at least that’s what the owner’s of the house mentioned when he listened in on their conversations. At first he felt bad about it, but he couldn’t leave the townhouse so what else could he do? Watch paint dry?
After a while the frat guys who lived in the house moved out, not feeling comfortable with knowing that a guy died in their hallway on their watch. Namjoon didn’t hold any ill will towards them. It wasn’t their fault. Hell, he was such a forgiving person, he wasn’t even that mad at the guy who gave him the drugs. So he didn’t know exactly why he was stuck here, in a small townhouse. But there he was. And he tried his best to deal with it.
While it certainly did suck the first few months of just trying to deal with people walking through him and not being able to be heard; being dead wasn’t so bad when Namjoon thought about it. It did get a bit lonely sometimes, not being able to talk to anyone outside of his own half conversations with the tenants that moved into the townhouse.
Sometimes the tenants of the house figured out that the place was haunted; sometimes they’d bring in psychics, who were definitely fake as no matter how much he tried to tell them he was a nice ghost they always spouted some bullshit of a vengeful spirit. Sometimes they’d bring in their own ghost equipment and start talking, but soon as he got a word out they freaked and left. The place was constantly on and off the market until you.
You were a plucky university student who finally found a place that had low enough rent and was close enough to your school that you didn’t need a roommate. Despite Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s begging, you wanted a place to yourself and finding a 2 bedroom townhouse with rent that cheap? It was a steal! With the help of your two friends plus your older brother Yoongi, you were able to get all your stuff moved in within the day!
You didn’t understand why the place never had steady tenants; sure there was a history of noises and cold spots, but it was an old house built in the 70s. Of course it’s gonna have some old stuff that needs fixing.
Namjoon watched in silence as the four of you went in and out of the house. A few times you did walk near him and visibly shiver, your friends even mentioned the cold spots to you, but you waved it off as if it was nothing. “Just the heater, I’ll talk to the landlord. See if he can do anything about it.” Now he wasn’t an engineer or anything, but he’s seen the heater and there’s nothing wrong with it, it was definitely him you were feeling. But he just had hopes that whoever the landlord hired would say the same to you.
He was quickly able to get a quick gage on your friends; the brown haired one being Jungkook, he could easily tell he was the youngest of the group by how the rest of you babied him. The blue haired one was Taehyung, but there was something about him that was familiar almost. He reminded him of his brother, how handsome he was. Lastly the dark haired man was Yoongi, at first he wasn’t sure about your relationship to him, seeing how he was the oldest out of all of you, but he quickly came to realize you were siblings by the way you teased each other. He found a lot of joy watching the four of you bicker and talk as you all set up certain aspects of your new place.
“Are you sure you don’t want a roommate?” Jungkook whined as he brought in the last of the boxes. “I swear, I’ll do all the laundry and chores just pleaaasee?”
“Sorry, Jungkookie.” You laughed at your friend. “But the lease is signed and I got everything I want planned out already. You can go room with Taehyung!”
“But he gets paint all over my shit though!” He groaned as he set the last box down on the counter.
“Hey, if she says she’s okay for her own place I believe her.” Yoongi said as he left your room. “Your bed is all set up by the way.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Thank you, Yoongle.” You smile at your older brother, happy he was able to get your bed together before it was too late in the day. “Now I just gotta find my sheets and I’ll be able to sleep in bed.” You chuckled.
“Which are right here,” You turn to see Taehyung holding a bag full of your blankets and pillows. “Want me to bring them over to your room?” He tossed his head in the direction of where you claimed your bedroom would be.
“Please and thank you!” You gave him a wide smile as he made his way down towards your room to drop them.
“You sure you don’t want me to spend the night tonight?” Yoongi asked, “First nights are scary, believe me.”
“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry!”
And you were. You thought you’d have a bit of difficulty adjusting to being alone, but for some reason you didn’t really feel alone? If that made any sense. You’d think after living with your brother the past few years you’d instantly notice being alone. Physically you knew you were but at the same time, deep down you knew you weren’t. Whatever this feeling was, you didn’t mind it. Hell, the weird feeling comforted you. Helped you prove to your brother that you didn’t need any extra help.
Namjoon was kinda baffled at how willfully ignorant you were. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve moved in and he notices you do tend to lose stuff and don’t really question it when he suddenly places it where you can easily find it again. He likes watching you get ready and organizing your place. (Of course, when he sees that you’re getting dressed or getting ready for bed he’ll give you your privacy.) Sometimes he’ll kinda give some ghosty help and straighten up some of the crooked frames you hung up. Being the friendly ghost roommate he is.
You called the landlord not too long ago and he said that a lot of the past tenants had complained about it not working or it always being cold in the house so he told you he was just going to replace it. You were excited! Brand new heater! And with the nights starting to get colder, you’re really going to need it.
It was on a Tuesday when the landlord came to change the heater, which was strange. Namjoon watched as you let the landlord in to work as you left for your early morning class, now the few times he’s seen the landlord and stuff being fixed is few. Normally he’ll have a professional come over and work on it, that’s what happened a few years ago when he accidentally shoved a spoon down the kitchen drain and the tenant called his services.
He watched with curiosity as the landlord dragged in the brand new heater, box in all, as well as his tool box and got to work. Something in the back of Namjoon’s mind didn’t feel right, so he kept an eye on the man as he installed the heater himself. Again, he wasn’t an electrician and knew nothing of installing heaters, but he knew that he was doing it wrong. He was pushing and slamming against it, trying to get it to fit on the pipes. Namjoon anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, debating on trying to fuck with him and push the heater off. But before he could even do anything, you came home and the landlord dusted off his hands and closed the door to the heater.
You were so happy that it was finished, thanking the landlord profusely for getting you a new one and installing it. While it was gonna take a bit off of your deposit, and you were internally cringing at that, you knew it was a well needed thing to be done. Soon as he left, you turned on the heat, as it was a cool November day and your professor didn’t bother turning on the heat in her class at all. With the heat on, you grabbed some blankets and snuggled up to watch Netflix the rest of the day, not bothering to work on your essay that was due in a few days.
As the day slowly came to a close, you realized you were getting a small headache. You didn’t really think much of it, just popped an aleve and drank some water. Usual things that helped cure your headaches, but it didn’t seem to let up. You glanced at the time, it was about 7:30. “Might as well hit the hay early.” You yawned, stretching out and made your way to your room. You did stumble around a bit, damn did you not notice how tired you were? Not bothering to change out of your day clothes, you just crawled right into bed and fell asleep.
“Not good, this is very not good.” Namjoon was rightfully freaking out. The heater was not properly installed at all and as he couldn’t breathe, he knew that whatever was happening to you was not good. He scoured all over the house, looking for some sort of alarm he could set off, wake you up, get you out of the house. As it turns out, the fire alarm was busted. The landlord was too cheap to fix it and not bother telling you. He constantly went back and forth checking on your to make sure your chest was still rising and falling as he frantically tried to do anything to wake you up.
Nothing worked though. He hadn’t felt this frustrated since he first died and everyone was walking through him. He wanted to scream, but nothing worked. He couldn’t do much but watch you. Wait for you to wake up and realize something was wrong. Wait for you to die. Which ever happened first and he hoped it was the former. But no matter how much he hoped and prayed to whatever god there was out there, it was fruitless.
It was 1:36 am when you stopped breathing.
Namjoon lets out a choked out sob, he can’t believe it. He should’ve done something. He should’ve pushed the heater over while the landlord was still here. He should’ve done something to turn it off before you started suffering from the carbon monoxide that was pouring through your vents. He buried his head in his hands and he just cried. Cried for you, for your family. You had so much life ahead.
“Mmhmm, what’s going on?”
He stilled, he looked up and saw you on the floor, holding your head. He quickly glanced between you and your body and quickly jumped into action.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He got on his knees to help you to your feet, thankfully in your confusion you let him help you up and quickly escorted you away from your room. He wasn’t sure how you were going to react to the fact you had died, much less seeing your own dead body right in front of you. “Just follow me, you’re going to be okay.” He said as he brought you over to the couch and sat you down.
“Hmm, who are you? Where am I?” You were still very dazed, he wasn’t sure if that was just a side effect of the poisoning or just general confusion of death. Did different deaths affect ghosts differently? Or was it random to each person?
“My name is Namjoon, we’re in your house.” He answered as he knelt in front of you.
Your eyes slowly started focusing on him and when your vision cleared to see the stranger in your house, you rightfully screamed. “Who the fuck are you!? What are you doing in my house?!” You shouted scrambling to get away from him. “Get out before I call the police!!”
“Hey hey hey, wait!” He called out after you as you got to your feet and ran back to your room. “Don’t go in there! Wait! Y/N!”
Soon as you crossed the threshold of the room you screamed again. Because there you were, in bed. Not moving. Not breathing. You fell to your knees and screamed again; in horror, confusion, fear. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you just leaned into it, collapsing into the arms of a complete stranger.
Namjoon held you as you sobbed into him, fists tight around the shirt he died in. He tried his best to be a soothing presence for you, rubbing circles into your back and not letting you go until several hours had passed. A normal human being probably would’ve passed out from exhaustion by now, but you weren’t human anymore. You were a ghost.
By the time you had stopped crying the sun was starting to rise, you let Namjoon help you to your feet and back to the living room. You both sat down on the couch in silence, besides a couple of sniffles from you.
“Are. . are you the Grim Reaper?” You asked, your voice groggy from crying.
“Hm? Oh no, I uh, I’m a ghost. Like you actually.” He replied with a nervous chuckle. “I died here.”
“I figured,” you wiped your nose on the back of your hand. “Landlord said someone died back in ’94, I just thought it was some. . .some old guy. Old age. Didn’t think he’d be-you’d be close to my age.”
“How old are you?” He asked, trying to make light conversation and distract you.
“Uh, I turned 21 last month.” You gave him a tight smile. Then the two of you fell into silence.
“I’m 23, by the way.” God, it’s been so long since he’s had an actual conversation with someone that he completely forgot how to talk to people.
“But wouldn’t you be-”
“Nah I don’t really count the years afterward much. I don’t age and can’t leave the house, what’s the point in counting the years.” He scratched the back of his neck.
“Can’t leave? What do you mean?” You looked at him, confused.
“Uh. . . you saw Beetlejuice right?” You nodded. “Kinda like that? Only instead of being teleported to some other sand dimension, you just get. . .blocked.”
“I guess there’s also no ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased’ either.” You let out a soft chuckle.
“Yeah, that would’ve been very helpful.” He gave you a small, dimpled smile. Then the silence fell over you again, the only noise was the shudder of the heater as it shut off, then there was complete silence.
“How long?” You keep your gaze focused on your lap, pulling on your fingers.
“Hmm?”
“How long. . .are we going to be here?” Your body was still in the other room, how long until someone notices you were missing school? How long would it take your brother to know that you weren’t contacting him? You could go days without talking with him. . .
“Here? I don’t know. . . as for someone to notice. . .that all depends on the people around you. I died when there was just a frat party, so it was noticed immediately. . .”
You furrowed your brows at that, it sounded familiar. . .why did that sound familiar? You knew for a fact you didn’t research the one death in this house, but at the same time you feel like you’ve been told a story like that before. . .
It was Jungkook who found you a day and a half later.
“Y/N? Hello?” He was banging on the door, looking in between the windows. Namjoon held you close as you started to cry, you didn’t want Jungkook to see this. He shouldn’t have to see this. He must’ve found the hide-a-key because moments later he was in, you clung tighter onto Namjoon as your best friend of 10 years looked past you.
“Y/N?” He called out as he walked in, you turned your head into Namjoon’s chest as your friend made his way towards your room. You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard him talk. “Hey you okay? Haven’t seen you at school. . . Y/N? Y/N? Hey wake up-” He must’ve realized because next thing you know he’s running out of the house, right through you and Namjoon, he stumbles outside and onto the small patch of grass that is your lawn.
You pull yourself away from Namjoon’s grip, throwing yourself to the open door where you see Jungkook throwing up whatever's in his stomach and crying. You wanted to burst out of the house and just hold him, tell him you were okay, tell him you loved him one last time. But you couldn’t, all you could do was stand there and watch as he pulled out his phone and dialed the emergency number.
Soon enough there was a fire track, an ambulance, and several police cars lining the street. Namjoon tried to pull you away so you didn’t have to see what was going on, but you refused. You needed to see, you had to know what was going on. What was going to happen. BUt all those thoughts were thrown out the door when you saw your brother frantically pull up and run towards the house, pushing past officers trying to keep him away from the scene.
“Y/N?!” he screamed as the officers continued to hold him back. “Where’s my sister!? Is she okay?! Y/N!!”
“Yoongi! Yoongi I’m right here!” You screamed, banging against the force that confined you to the townhouse. Not caring if first responders walked right through you, you didn’t care. You just wanted your brother.
“Yoongi,” You saw Jungkook walk over to him, tears still falling from his face. You watched as the realization fell on his face. You were gone.
“No. No no no no no NO!” He clawed hysterically at the officers, begging and screaming at them to let him go. They only did as he fell to his knees, Jungkook right next to him and pulled him in close. Both of them crying their hearts out for you as people watched from beyond the police tape.
With the way your heater was improperly placed, it was an easy open and shut case. Carbon monoxide poisoning. Manslaughter. Your landlord was arrested and charged, plead guilty. He’ll get 3 years in prison. But that does little to resolve you or your family's grief.
It takes a while before your family has access to your house again, all the carbon monoxide cleared out from the space. The new landlady gives Yoongi a month to clear out your stuff. You watch there as your mom, dad, Yoongi, Jungkook, and Taehyung all stop by and help try and organize boxes. No tears are spared through the entire time, from them and your family.
Namjoon feels a bit awkward, staying off in the corner as you sit next to your mom as she folds all your clothes and puts them into boxes. He listens to your family as they tell stories about you, reminiscing on memories. He keeps a close eye on your though, despite him dying before, he never saw his family mourn. He’s unsure how you might deal with seeing them cry and divide up your stuff.
You only start to lose it when Yoongi finds the pink stuffed elephant he’d given you many years ago, hiding away amongst your pillows. When he pulls out the stuffed animal that was hidden away, you watched as he ran his thumb over the furry creature. He brought it close to his chest and let out a choked out sob. Unsure how much more you were able to take, you let out a scream.
Namjoon quickly ran over to the bedroom where you were on the floor, screaming and crying as Yoongi stood there crying, completely unaware of what was going on before him. “Hey hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He tried to calm you, but you weren’t having it.
“No! It’s not okay, Namjoon! I’m dead! Maybe you’d have time to accept things the way they were but I can’t!” You shouted, pushing him away from you. You let out another twisted scream that turned into a sob, shaking Namjoon to his very core. The amount of power and energy you put into that wail shook the bookcase behind you, a few of the books falling from their shelves. The man just sat there across from you as you curled into a ball and just cried, and cried, and cried. Not sure what else to say. What do you say to a girl who was wrongfully killed in her sleep? There’s nothing.
So caught up in your emotions and trying to keep you calm, neither of you see Yoongi notice stare at the bookcase and the fallen books.
The next few times your family and friends come to pack things up, Namjoon stays with you in the closet. Saying something about giving them space and you need space as well. At first you protest against it, not wanting to be confined to an even smaller space. But after watching your father tear up as he packed away your photos, you agreed. You couldn’t take much longer.
Several days had passed and all that was left in your townhouse was just the furniture. Your parents and brother arguing over who could keep what. There’s still a few boxes of your things scattered around the house, you wish you could steal a book or something to keep yourself occupied at least but you’d know they’d notice and find it right away.
Lightning cracks against the sky as rain pours down. To pass the time, Namjoon was telling you stories about the other tenants that had lived here; the frat boys, the families, the stoners, etc. You were in the middle of telling him a story about how you and Jungkook met Taehyung, how he at 17 years old stuck a bug up his nose on a dare when the front door slammed open. Lightning flashed behind the figure, giving you a quick outline of your brother with a bottle in his hand.
“Oh on, no no no.” You stood up to walk over to Yoongi but he just walked right through you. Soaked from the rain, he probably didn’t even feel the cold spot that was you.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked as your brother dropped his bag on the floor, taking another swig of the whiskey in his hand.
“Yoongi, he-he doesn’t like drinking. . .he only does when. . .” Your voice trailed off. Hurt is evident in your eyes as he places the alcohol on the ground and shuffles around in his backpack. Pulling out a black box and frantically tore it open, pulling out a small speaker and wires.
“Come on, turn on you. . stupid fuckin’ thing.” He slurred as he pushed several buttons on the speaker until it blarred to life, a loud buzzing noise filling the living room. “Y/N? Are you there?”
Your eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of your head. Never in your life did you think your brother would go to such lengths as to buy a spirit box?! You looked to Namjoon, unsure of what to do. He’s told you a couple times people figured out the place was haunted and they’d try to communicate with him, but this was different. He was looking for you. He only gestured for you to speak.
“Yoongi?” Soon as the words left your mouth, a robotic voice left the speakers and you swear he jumped ten feet in the air.
“Is-is it really you?” He clung to the speaker, bringing it closer to his face.
“It’s me,” you said. “I’m here.” The robotic voice followed after your’s. Yoongi let out a small cry, relieved you were here. You tried to say more but all that came out was garbled and mixed up. “Namjoon! What do I do?!”
“Calm down, small phrases.” Namjoon said, the spirit box picked up on his voice, repeating him as well.
“Y/N, are we alone?” Your brother stilled, looking around the room.
“No, someone else.” You said, sticking to the advice of small words and phrases.
“Who?”
“Namjoon, friend.” The man introduced himself. “Died here too.”
“This is. . .this is great? I think? Y/N, I- I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” His eyes welded up with tears as he spoke.
“It’s. . okay.” You slowly made your way over to your brother, you placed your hand right over his cheek. “I love you.”
You weren’t sure if he felt your presence or not but needless to say he shut off the machine and burst into tears, you cried as he cried. He sat down on the couch, taking a few more swigs of his bottle of whiskey. His cries eventually evolved into snores as he passed out. You could feel Namjoon’s eyes on you as you attempted to brush the hair from his eyes.
“I’m glad he didn’t do anything too stupid,” you sighed as you stood. “Or dangerous.”
“I’m sorry this happened, Y/N.” Namjoon said, as you made your way back over to him. Both of you just stand there, staring at your sleeping brother.
“Not your fault,” you responded. “Just, god, I hope someone takes care of him. . .”
“You have a very loving and caring family, Y/N. He’ll be okay,” he wrapped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him. As time passed, you’ve gotten somewhat closer. You can’t help but be friendly with him as he’s the only other person you have, being stuck in a 2 bedroom, 1 and a half bath townhouse for the rest of eternity.
When Yoongi woke up the next morning he was grumpy, per usual of him drinking. He didn’t touch the spirit box though. Didn’t even look at it. He just shoved it in his backpack and left, leaving the whiskey behind. You’re glad he left it behind, but at the same time neither of you don’t know what to do with it.
Namjoon tried to teach you to harness some of your energy to move stuff, him having several years under his belt. He’s able to move things around with little to no struggle, seeing how he was able to move your stuff around before. You however, struggle to move it even a centimeter. But he tells you not to worry, saying it did take him several years to master.
About a week after your brother came by there’s a small crowd of people outside the door. Before you can even warn Namjoon, the door opens up and reveals him, Jungkook, Taehyung, a short blond man you don’t recognize, and-
“Seokin?!” Namjoon almost instantaneously recognized his brother, only he looked. . .older.
“You know him?” You almost had eyes as wide as he does, staring at him as he moves with the group of people into the kitchen.
“Yeah, he’s-he’s my brother.” He feels tears start to well up, stinging as he blinks them back.
“Your. . that would make you-”
“Taehyung, what am I doing here? You haven’t told me anything.” The eldest man complained as he settled into a chair.
“Dad, I told you just. . .just listen. Please.” Your blue haired friend sighed, giving his dad’s hand a quick squeeze.
You can only stare at Namjoon who in turn only stares at Taehyung and his father. That’s why his story sounded familiar. You vaguely remember hearing your friend’s dad say something about having a brother that died young. An accident. At a house. Your house.
The group of people settled around the table, only one left standing was the blond stranger who kept his eyes closed as he took a few deep breaths. His face was scrunched up every so slightly, like he was feeling for something.
“Oh no,” Namjoon groaned. “They brought a psychic.”
“I feel. . .” He started.
“Watch he’s going to say vengeful or something like that,” your ghostly friend crossed his arms with a huff.
“Oh I feel a lot of different things,” he giggled as he opened his eyes, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Mainly confusion but. . .there’s some relief and happiness mainly surrounding you sir.” The psychic pointed to Seokjin, who looked even more confused.
“Are they here?” Yoongi asked him as he settled down in his seat.
“Yes, your sister and your brother are in the room.” he said with a smile.
“I’m sorry, what?” Seokjin raised a brow in disbelief. “No, Taehyung. I’m not going to deal with some phony who is going to just make shit up about my brother” He started to get up from his seat.
“Dad, wait!” Taehyung called after him.
“Pink! He likes the color pink!”
“Does the color pink mean anything to you?” The psychic said, stilling Seokjin.
“Pink was his favorite color, but to anyone who asked him what his favorite color was it was orange.” Namjoon just spouted off the fact about his brother. The psychic didn’t repeat the statement verbatim, but got the point across nonetheless.
“Mr. Kim, please just listen to what Jimin has to say. True me.” Your brother pleaded with him. Seokjin walked back to the table and took his seat once again. You could see his eyes were watering, like his brother he was blinking back tears.
“Continue.” He gave a small nod to the blond man, now known as Jimin, who smiled back in return.
“Now, we’re here to talk to Y/N and Namjoon, correct. That’s their names.” The table all nodded in response. “Okay, they’re here. They’re a bit confused so I’ll repeat my briefing. Hello, my name is Park Jimin. I’m a psychic medium. I can’t exactly see or hear you, but I can feel your energy and emotions. So please be gentle.” He gave a small laugh as he settled himself in your kitchen chair and closed his eyes. “Your family has questions, I’m here to help translate your answers for you. Family, if you please.”
“If Y/N is really here. . . what’s something only she and I would know?” Jungkook said, you had a feeling he was suspicious of this as well, just more quiet about it, possibly not wanting to insult Yoongi or Jimin.
You felt your cheeks burn as a memory popped in your head, immediately knowing exactly what proof he needed. “He uh, stole my first kiss when I was 13 underneath the monkey bars.” You let out a small chuckle at the memory.
Almost instantaneously, Jimin burst out in a giggle. “Oh my gosh, I’m getting monkey bars?” He kept his eyes closed as he brought his hands to his cheeks. You were keeping your eyes focused on the psychic, but out of the corner of your eyes you saw Jungkook stiffen. “Oh my face is red. You stole her first kiss.” He opened his eyes, a huge smile on his face.
“I’m sorry what?” Yoongi immediately turned to the younger boy, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Shush, it’s her.” He dismissed your brother as he leaned forward on the table, soaking in every word that Jimin said.
“Dad, do you want to say something?” Taehyung looked to his father who kept his arms crossed and his face stern. Glancing between him and Namjoon as he stood right next to him, you finally were able to see somewhat of a resemblance between them. The same messy dark hair, same stern eyebrows, you could only imagine what Mr. Kim looked like when he was Namjoon’s age.
“. . . Who was it. . .” His voice cracked as he spoke.
Namjoon paused, he hadn’t thought of the stranger in many years. . .did they never find him? All he recalls of him was a heart shaped smile and brown hair. He can’t recall much else about him, looking very much normal. Like the rest of the party.
“Hmm,” He watched as Jimin’s face scrunched up a bit. “He doesn’t know, all he remembers is the smile and his hair color.” He brought his hand to his mouth, gesturing to it. “It was a very specific shape too, I see it in my mind perfectly. I wanna say. . . heart shaped?”
Soon as the words left his mouth, Seokjin broke out into a sob. Namjoon watched as his son, his nephew, rumbed comforting circles on his back.
“Hoseok, fucking Jung Hoseok.” He choked out, hiding his face from the rest of the table.
Namjoon reached out to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. Trying to let him know that it’s okay, he’s not mad. It’s okay.
“Seokjin,” Jimin started. “Your brother doesn’t harbor any ill will towards him. He forgave him a long time ago.” He finished with a smile.
“But it’s my fault he’s dead.” He managed to get out. “I brought him to the party, I gave him alcohol. I was the one complaining to Hoseok about him needing to chill out. I caused my brother’s death!”
Namjoon froze at this information. He looked to you, who seemed equally stunned. The whole table seemed to be stunned into silence.
“I thought it was him for a while, but no one saw him give Namjoon the drugs. I had no evidence. Hoseok’s dad was chief of police so even if I did it would’ve been swept under the rug.” Seokjin finished as he wiped his tears away. The entire table stayed quiet, waiting.
Namjoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, despite the action doing nothing, it calmed him down. “It’s alright, Jinnie. I forgive you.” He focused all his energy onto his hand that was placed on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You need to forgive yourself.” He must’ve felt it because he started staring at his shoulder.
“He forgives you, Mr. Kim.” Jimin repeated softly. “But he thinks you need to forgive yourself. You can’t change the past. He learned that a long time ago. It’s time to let go.”
Eyes not leaving his shoulder, he nodded. “Okay. Okay Joonie.” He let out in a soft voice.
Jimin conducts the meeting for a little while longer, your respective families letting you know that you are always in their thoughts and how much they love you. You and Namjoon stayed near each other the whole time, giving each other the support you needed as you all reminisced on memories.
As the meeting started to come to a close, the blond psychic said something. “Now, this is not usually conventional for me but I feel like it’s necessary.”
“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, looking at the man with concern.
“Both Namjoon and Y/N need to move on. It’s clear to me they have no unfinished business, so the reason they’re still here isn’t that.” He explained. “Sometimes when people die young they just get stuck behind, it’s not common but it happens.”
“So this will be our last goodbye?” Jungkook’s big doe eyes started to well with tears again.
“Yes, it will be.” He nodded. “Please say your final words.”
“Y/N,” Yoongi started, you watched as your brother’s lip trembled, trying to find the right words to say to you. “There’s so much I want to say but I can’t get it out. . I-I love you. You’ll always be my baby sister.”
Next up was Jungkook, who was keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “I wish. . .I wish I could’ve done more for you. I miss you and- and I’ll never forget you.”
“Namjoonie. . .” Seokjin began. “It seems like I just got you back and now I’m losing you again.” He let out a weak laugh. “I love you. You’re always in my thoughts.”
Finally was Taehyung, who just sat there with his lips pursed in thought. “Uncle Namjoon. . . I’m glad I at least got to meet you. . .kinda.” He smiled lightly. “Thank you for being there for Y/N. Please watch over her, she’s kind of a mess sometimes.” He laughed, causing the table to erupt in chuckles.
“Hey, I’m not that much of a mess!” You countered.
“Yes, you are.” Namjoon asserted as Taehyung finished his thought.
“Y/N, I’m. . . I’m gonna miss you. I’ll always be your bug.” He concluded. The table turned their attention back towards Jimin, who was wiping away tears.
“They’re not saying anything but it’s clear that they love you,” he said with a smile as he dabbed his under eyes with a handkerchief. “Now, Namjoon and Y/N. Please stand behind me and put your hands on my shoulders.” You followed his instructions, placing your hands on his shoulders, causing him to shiver. “Ooh cold. Now, join hands everyone.” He held out his hands for Yoongi and Taehyung to take. They did and the rest followed suit.
They all sat there in silence, eyes closed. You and Namjoon looked to each other, neither of you knew what was going to happen next. He’s tried for years to move on physically saying he’s moving on or had no more unfinished business, meditating. Nothing worked. Maybe he was stuck and needed a real and proper psychic’s help?
Suddenly warmth covered you and Namjoon. It’s been years since he’d felt warmth like this. He let out a sigh as the feeling enveloped him. He looked over to you and you had a relaxed smile on your face, content with everything. The sadness he was so used to seeing on your face was now replaced with a look of peace. If he was to look in the mirror, he was sure he’d look the same.
There was no light that neither of you could recall going into. You both just watched your world melt away into the next.
#btsghostiebingo#btsghostie#thehouseofbangtan#thetruthretold#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon x reader#bts x reader#namjoon fanfiction#bts fanfiction#kim namjoon angst#namjoon angst#rm x reader#bts angst#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jung hoseok#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook
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Denki Kaminari x Female!Reader
Warnings: Rough kissing??
I wrote this a while ago xD And someone requested to be put in it then so thats who Lizzie is because FAN SERVICE
Stupid party. I hate this
I sighed as I stood in my friends room, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. She was having a huge party downstairs and had forced me into a dress that she bought me.
”I look. Just....why?” She popped her head in through the doorway. “Oh my GOD YOU LOOK SO CUTEEEE” She squealed and ran into the room and circled me and hugged me. I stepped back and looked at her.
”Oh my gosh Lizzy you look so nice!” she gushed at me “Thanks (Y/N)! You think Katsuki will like it?” I nodded and she squealed.
She look my bun out and started to curl my hair, being careful to not burn me.
“Yknow, Denki will love that dress on you.” She smirked at my flushing face. It was pretty obvious to everyone that I had a crush on him, and they would tell me he liked me back but I never believed them.
“Sh-Shut up.” She giggles and when she finished my hair and took a step back and smiled at me. Someone cleared their throat from the door way and she let out a small shriek. We turned around to see Katsuki standing at the door. When he saw her he straightened up and flushed slightly.
“Y-You look nice” She laughed and walked near him. “Did my Katsuki just stutter?” He grumbled and walked away, mumbling something into her ear. She giggled and pranced back to me and picked up a rose from her desk and placed it in my hair. She grabbed my shoulders and looked at me.
“Listen to me (Y/N). Tonight is the night you are going to be the most vibrant girl in the room. Denki is going to see you and explode at your sexiness” I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Should I be worried that your calling me sexy?” She pinched my cheek before smacking it slightly and walked to the door, glancing over her shoulder “Come down when your ready”
****
(Denki Pov)
I sighed, getting myself more of the fruit punch Lizzy had most likely spiked with vodka. I looked around the enormous living room, my eyes scanning for a certain brown haired girl. I saw Lizzy walk down the her I sped walked to her, tossing my arm around her shoulder. "Heyy Lizzy" She raised an eyebrow at me and smiled "Hi Denki, do you need something?" My face started to heat up slightly "umm well I was wondering if anyone else is coming to the party or if everyone is here already?"
"Oh you mean (Y-"
"OH HEY (Y/N)" I jumped at the shout from Kirishima and looked up the staircase in front of me and saw the beauty I had fallen for walking down the stairs with a flushed face. All eyes were on her, but she was looking right at me. My face felt hot I knew it was red. I start to walk to the bottom of Lizzies' seemingly endless staircase to join (Y/N), but as i approach it, and were still maintaining eye-contact, Ochaco, Mina, and Kirishima rush past me and speak to her and pull her away from me in the opposite direction (sad elec boi). I watch the back of their heads leaving the room into the kitchen when i feel someone nudge me.
"Buck up buddy, they don't realize how much you love her" Lizzie says to me, a big grin on her face. "L-love? I d-don't loVE her" I sputter out, she obviously doesn't believe my pathetic lie. "Oh yeah, and you don't stay up until 4 in the morning playing pokemon on your ds. Don't worry though, ill set up some games so you'll be able tooooo..... talk to her?" Well that doesn't sound suspicious at all. Lizzie smiles and me and backs up slowly, disappearing into the crowd of people. I try looking for her to figure out what 'games' shes going to set up, but i cant find her, until she appears on a stage with a microphone.
"HellOOO my welcome guests! Tonight has been amazing so far, and i have all of you to thank! For any of you who want to partake in some generic smexy party games, follow me into the basement lounge, if you prefer to stay up here in the main area feel free to!" oh noooo nonono Lizzie makes her way off the stage and motions for people to follow her. She looks at me and motions for me especially.
We all make our way down to her GIANT lounge and everyone gathers in a circle, I see most of class 1-A and a few students from 2-B. I see (Y/N) from across the circle, shes in deep conversation with Monoma, laughing and making jokes with him. I feel a pang of jealously in my chest and I look away from them and take a seat on a couch. Resting my chin on my palm, watching the group around me.
(Your Pov)
"OK everyone take a seat in a circle and we'll get started!" Lizzie said aloud. I skim the room and notice Denki looking a little grumpy, I go to talk to him put I'm pulled into a seat by Mina. "Don't worry (Y/N), you'll get to socialize with your boy-toy during the games" I flushed "H-hes not my b-boy-toy" she gives me a look and is about to say something when she gets cut off by Lizzie. "Okie dokie then i think we're ready to play some games, how about we start off with spin the bottle?" This question got a lot of good responses from the lounge dwellers so Lizzie pulled out an empty bottle and set it down on the ground in the middle of the circle. "Who's up first?" She was met with silence "Alright..... guess ill go then" She was met with many protests and people offering to go first. See, Lizzie isn't able to play these kind of games because if Katsuki ever found out, everyone participating would be dead in seconds, so no one wants her to do anything other then watch and help move it along.
"That's what i thought, well then i get to pick who goes first......Izuku! You spin first!" Izukus face flushed a bit as he reached forward and spun the bottle, every ones eyes were on the bottle as it slowed down and stopped on Shoto. Poor Izuku was a stuttering mess as people around them giggled like crazy, everyone knew about the crushes each of them had on one another and it was adorable to watch the timid izuku lean over and peck the maroon faced shoto on the lips. Everyone giggled even more as izuku returned to his seat and hid his face in his polo shirt. "Cuteee. Alright, i vote (Y/N) next!" Lizzie said with the dorkiest smile on her face. I gulped slightly and glanced at Denki out of the corner of my eyes, he looks like hes on edge, he definitely straightened his back. I reached over to the bottle and spun it, i want it to land on Denki, i really do. It slows to a stop.
Monoma. Dang. Monoma is probably one of my best friends, i don't really want to kiss him. "Do i have to kiss him on the lips?" I ask, "No you don't, but this is the only veto for anyone" I lean over to Monoma and kiss him on the cheek. "Good, i don't want to kiss her, shes a good best friend but not my sophisticated type." Monoma chuckles out. Everyone lets out those nose breath laughs and moves on.
After a few rounds of this game people start getting a bit bored, so Lizzie announces "Well i guess we only have enough time for one more game, its getting late. So lets play a spicy game, 7 minutes in heaven!" Some people groan, and some people squeal. Its very obvious who likes this game and who doesn't.
Lizzie has everyone drop some sort of item of theirs into a hat and Lizzie has people draw something at random. Some pairs go into a closet and come out exactly the same, other go in and come out with obvious ruffled hair and lipstick smears. Lizzie gets to me and reaches the hat out to me "No peaking (Y/N)" I reach in and run my hand around, i feel something seemingly rectangular and flat, connected to what i think is a lanyard. I pull it out and quickly look at the item. eff
The lanyard is yellow and covered with small pikachus in different poses, i look at the UA i.d card connected to it and i see what i both wanted to see, and dreaded to see. I see the dorky smile of Denki Kaminari. Lizzie snatches the lanyard out of my hand and peers at it, with the most ecstatic look on her face. (Y/N) and Denki! You're up!" I'm shoved into the medium sized closet with Denki, i back into a corner, and i cant see anything. "Seven minutes starting nowwww!" i hear Lizzie shout from a room over.
"Lizzie? Where are you? I cant see anything" Denki says, i hear a small thud and i hear what was most likely something hitting him on the head. "I'm here Denki" I reach my hands out to feel for him "Are you okay you ditz? That sounded like it hurt" I feel my hands touch something moving (him obviously) "Yeah I'm fine" I feel his hands over mine and he travels them up my arms and onto my face, cupping my cheeks. "D-denki? What're you d-doing"
"I'm glad you pulled my lanyard out of that hat, the truth is (Y/N)... I really like you, more than a friend. D-do you think you would like the be with m-me?" My heart melts, 'this sweet little bean' I reach my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me "W-wha-" i cut him off my kissing him, something I've wanted to do almost since i met him.
(Denki Pov)
Shes- Kissing me!?! Her lips are warm and soft, i kiss her back, and inwardly cringed at how it was a little rougher then i wanted it to seem, but she starts kissing me harder too so imma roll with it.
[BEWARE, EXTREMELY CRINGE AND BAD WRITING AHEAD SJKJNBLSTHBSILRUTNG]
(Your Pov)
He pushes me into the wall of the closest, my hands are in his hair, tugging him into the rough kiss more, One of his hands roam down to my ass and he gropes it slightly, causing me to gasp, which he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. As we battle for dominance he taps my thighs with his hand basically telling me to jump. I wrap my legs around his waist as he keeps me pinned in the wall with his body. He slips his tongue out of my mouth and he makes his way down to my neck, licking and sucking on almost all the surface area of it. His hands start to roam my thighs and they make their way up to-
"PUT MY FRIEND DOWN BOI" The closet door is swung open by Lizzie and when she sees the position we're in she pretends to faint and walks away laughing her ass off. Denki sets my legs back on the ground and awkwardly looks at everyone staring at us. "What?" He asks, they all divert their eyes as Denki takes my hand and leads me out of the lounge and outside to Lizzies' patio. We sit down at a table and smile at each other like dorks. "(Y/N), would you like to be my girlfriend? Given what we just did in the closet I would hope so but i figured i need to ask just to be sur-" I once again cut him off from rambling and press my lips onto his. This actually might be what everyone calls happily ever after...
jzfdb.kjdsgnbkjngbkjsg I'm REALLY bad at writing romantic scenes *cough* or any scene at all *cough* but i hope you all enjoyed!
#mha#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha#mha oneshot#bnha oneshots#oneshot#denki kaminari#denki#kaminari#mina ashido#monoma neito#denki x reader#kaminari x reader
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A Mother’s Rage
[SEQUEL TO A MOTHER’S LOVE]
Word Count: 2885
Summary:
- It is often said that a mother’s rage is incomparable with anything else in the world. Fierce, scalding, passionate as long as its coals are fanned.A mother’s rage is a force to be reckoned with.
( In which Niki thinks about her son, from both the past and the present. )
[ ao3 link!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952805 ]
(fic below the cut!)
It is often said that a mother’s rage is a type of anger that burns bright and hot. It decimates anything that decides to get in its way, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Mightier than the worst of storms, drawing energy from deep within the heart and soul, strong enough to make even the most powerful bow down to its will—It is said that nothing in the world could ever compare. Fierce, scalding, passionate as long as its coals are fanned.
A mother’s rage is a force to be reckoned with.
Niki remembers the night that Puffy brought Dream home with her.
She was surprised that their windows were holding their own, the rain pounding down so hard on the glass that it sounded like the knocks of a madman looking for shelter. The waves on the nearby shore came crashing angrily, filling the air with loud noises to accent the booms of thunder that seemed to shake the ground. Her feet had led her outside, standing at her door and looking out for Puffy, just in case the former captain would need help carrying supplies home. She was glad that she had listened to her instincts after seeing her strikingly red overcoat—in comparison to the blues, browns, and beiges that characterized their home—amidst the raging droplets of water. Tucked into the shorter woman’s arms was a small child, clinging onto her as if his life depended on it.
She didn’t even bother putting on her shoes before lifting up the skirt of her dress and scurrying to aid her.
“Puffy!” Niki cried out once she was close enough, using her arms to shield herself from the rain. Her efforts were in vain though, her own hair and clothes beginning to match the state of her lover and the boy in her arms. “You’re both soaked…Come hurry back home,” she frowned, the chill of the air already nipping at her skin through the material of her sleeves.
“It’s a little hard to run like this, Niki,” Puffy joked lightly, bouncing the child and the bag of traded supplies to prove her point.
Pursing her lips, Niki held her arms open and sighed, “I’ll take one, we just need to hurry before it picks up even more.”
Puffy nodded, loosening her grip on the boy and looking at him. He looked almost reluctant to let her go, his own hold on her tightening when he felt himself slipping. “Hey, hey, now,” she cooed softly, giving him one of the softest smiles that Niki’s ever seen on her face. “This is Niki, she’s a...really good friend of mine.” (Niki would’ve snorted in laughter at the description, but she had higher priorities that distracted her from the comical part of things.) “I trust her lots, so she isn’t going to hurt you, Duckling, okay?” The boy hesitated for a moment more before slowly turning to Niki and extending his arms to her instead.
Niki put on a soft smile of her own, taking him from her arms and not wasting a moment to go running towards the safety of their cottage. She used her arms and head to shield him from the rain; he already felt light and thin in her embrace, something told her that a storm like this one could easily make him fall ill without trying. Relief coursed through her veins once the sand and gravel underneath her feet became wood, opening the door with practiced ease and stepping inside. She couldn’t have been in the rain for more than a few minutes, yet the material of her dress clung to her skin almost as much as the boy in her arms held onto her neck. Water dripped from both of their soaking figures on the floor. The boy watched guiltily as the fallen droplets began to pool into small puddles, but Niki only combed her hands through his hair and tutted her tongue. “We can worry about that later,” she hummed, carrying him to the washroom.
The tiles of the bathroom were cold against her feet as she leaned over the tub to get some warm water running. She set him down carefully, taking extra care to let him stand on an extra towel instead of the floor. “Do you mind taking off your clothes?” she asked softly, making a twirling motion with her hand. “I can turn around while you do, if you’d like. Privacy is important, after all,” she smiled, already making a show of turning halfway to let him know she was serious.
He slowly nodded his head, and she turned around all the way.
His clothes hit the floor in an almost hilarious ‘splat!’, though Niki made sure to keep any bouts of laughter to herself. After a few moments, she felt a small tug on the end of her dress, accompanied by s soft, “I’m done, miss.”
“Do you think you can get in the tub yourself?” She asked softly, still facing away from him and looking at the wall. “Or do you need my help?”
A beat of silence. “Can I have a little help? Please?”
Niki felt herself mentally coo. “Of course.”
She turned around fully, hooking her arms underneath the boy’s and lifting him up once more, easing him into the warm water. His eyes lit up with a certain glow, immediately sinking further into the warmth—and Niki couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself.
“Thank you for letting me use your hot water, miss.”
Niki grabbed a small bucket off of the bathroom shelf, dipping it into the water and gently pouring it atop his head to start washing him off. “I appreciate your politeness,” she chuckled, leaning over to grab the shampoo, “but you don’t have to be so formal. My name’s Niki.”
“That’s a pretty name,” he murmured softly, and she could see him playing around with the water a little.
“Mind if I ask yours?”
“Dream.”
Niki smiled. “That’s a lovely name as well.”
Dream had ended up falling asleep as Niki washed him off, her heart swelling with a certain fondness for the boy she just met. Gentle with wrapping him up in a towel and heading to the bedroom to scavenge something for him to wear, she set him down on their bed to sleep soundly. It was hard—even if she and Puffy weren’t the largest people themselves, Dream was much too small and young to be measured by their standards. (And don’t get her started on trying to find underwear that wouldn’t potentially embarrass him by wearing it.) The smallest she could find was an old pair of shorts and a shrunken shirt from a laundry mishap, being careful not to wake him up as she slipped them on for him. Tucking him into the covers and changing into another pair of clothes herself, she made sure to shut the curtains and close the door softly as she retreated to the kitchen.
Puffy met her in the kitchen—while she was midway through cooking soup—also changed and dried off.
A conversation or two later, Niki found out how exactly Puffy knew Dream.
There was an ache in her heart, imagining just how long he must’ve been alone. Everyone had their own lives and worries, but she couldn’t help but ask herself why no one thought to help him out sooner. A kid, who couldn’t have been any older than six. People ran their businesses differently, she was aware of that too—but that vendor couldn’t have let losing profits of one loaf of bread slip and instead chose to chase after the poor boy? The ache grew into a small seed of bitterness at the thought, tugging her lips into a growing frown. The heat emitting from the stove furnace mirrored the one threatening to ignite in her veins, though her thoughts were interrupted by the gentle patter of footsteps into the kitchen.
She turned her head to the side to see Dream looking bashfully down at his feet, playing with the hem of his clothes. “Miss Niki?” he asked softly, standing on his toes and attempting to look into the pot. “I’m a little hungry…”
Niki smiled, the sparks of anger at unknown faces extinguishing before they could even ignite. “Soup’ll be done in a minute, Dream. Say, why don’t you and Puffy set the table, alright?”
Puffy held her hand out to him, and the pair scampered off into the conjoined living-dining room.
They had their first ‘family’ dinner that night.
Niki managed to work Dream into her schedule perfectly; he was a delight to be around. Though it took a little bit for him to warm up to her, their relationship eventually became like Puffy’s and his: a mother and her son. She was fond of the days that he chose to stay home, begging her to let him help her bake. An occasional crack of the egg here, a mixing the ingredients together there. Nothing too hard, and nothing that he couldn’t handle.
One day, while she left the kitchen to go grab a damp cloth from the kitchen to clean with, a loud shattering noise quickly brought her back. Shards of the plate that she had set her cookies on laid scattered on the ground, the cookies semi-piled where the plate must’ve made the first contact. Dream stood sheepishly at the wreckage, putting on a tight smile and folding his hands behind his back. “I…I wanted to try one.”
Niki put her hands on her hips, and Dream shrunk a little more into himself. “Dream,” she started off, her voice gentle yet stern. “You should’ve waited for me to come back.” Leaning down and opening one of the cabinets, she pulled out a hand broom and dustpan. Careful not to step on the shattered porcelain, she continued, “I would’ve come back in only a few seconds. There was no need for you to rush.”
“Sorry, Niki,” Dream mumbled, his voice impossibly quiet. She would’ve missed it if the sound of glass dragging against the tiles would’ve been even just a smidge louder. Saying that she hadn’t been a little annoyed would’ve been a complete and utter lie; slight irritation did simmer beneath her skin for a moment. But seeing the genuine look of regret written on Dream’s features, slouched posture, and soft tone to his voice made that small bout of temper dissipate. She sighed softly, shaking her head and carefully making her way towards him.
“I’m just being cautious,” she explained softly, taking his hands into her own and crouching down to be in his line of view. “I’d hate for you to get hurt, Dream. You’re my little duckling,” she chuckled, tapping the tip of his nose and reveling in the subtle but clearly there perk up of his lips.
“You’re not mad?” he asked, tilting his head to the side a little.
Niki pinched his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I could never.”
A flash of stark white porcelain brings Niki out of her thoughts. Her grip is impossibly tight on the flint and steel in her hands, the metal warming in her grasp. Not too far in front of her, explosives rain down from an eerily perfect obsidian grid in the sky, deepening the crater that replaced New L’manburg. Though it is high and far beyond her reach, she catches glimpse of a figure—clad in a green sweater and dark jeans—navigating his way across them with an expert’s ease. The sight alone was enough to make her blood begin to boil, her heart igniting with a strong fire that couldn’t be matched by anything she’s ever witnessed.
For Niki isn’t mad.
She’s livid.
At what, you may ask?
Well…
Everything.
Especially at the events of the world that led to the current moment. A plethora of wars, failed elections, and countless conflicts piling on top of one another and shaping L’manburg into something painfully unrecognizable. The place she had come to love as her home was now something that she felt no connection to. Hell, there was a twisted satisfaction curling in her gut as seeing it all come tumbling down in flames. The country was already ruined beyond belief in her eyes, and to finally see something so insufferable, so unlikeable, so infuriating meet the fate that she wanted so desperately to come.
She doesn’t realize that she’s ignited the flint and steel until the flames’ tendrils reach out to her, warmth caressing her face. Taking a step back, she watches as the ‘L’mantree’—the only natural tree of the land left standing—gets overtaken in splashes of red, orange, and yellow. An ironically beautiful ‘sunset’ in the midst of all the chaos and destruction.
Niki feels the fire grab ahold of her, tendrils curling around her limbs and sinking in through her skin—but it doesn’t burn. Instead, it rages through her veins and heart, crying out with a feeling that she was foreign to. Not a single tear dares fall, and if one tries to, the heat of her wrath seems to evaporate it without even giving it a chance to start running. She lifts her hand up into a salute as the tree goes down, but solemn is far from what she is feeling. It’s almost as if she had taken her sword by the handle and sliced clean through the ropes of the bridge that connected her to her past, her now-empty promises, her memories of long-ago whose importance scorched away into nothing. They didn’t matter to her anymore, and as she watched the bridge fall and burn away into ashes, she’s sure that it never will matter to her again.
Her eyes drift up to the obsidian sky once more, landing on a figure—wearing a stark-white mask with a poorly scribbled-on smile—sitting casually atop it. Watching, as if it were a Saturday-morning television show. Grinning, as if nothing else in the world could be more amusing. Laughing, as if everything were just a game to him, and everything could be reset with the simple click of a button.
Niki grits her teeth, the fire of anger within her suddenly blazing into an inferno.
Dream.
What had happened to him?
Her sweet little duckling, one that she said she could never get mad at, had thrown a lit match straight into a sea of gasoline, and Niki just so happened to be sailing in the midst of it.
The fond memories that should fill her with sorrow at witnessing such a drastic change in her son only ignite white-hot fury, seizing her mind until all she can see is red. She can’t remember the fuzzy sensation that would overtake her senses whenever she heard him laugh brightly at a joke that she or Puffy made. She can’t remember the warmth that bloomed in her chest whenever he would cuddle up to her side and fall asleep ever-so-peacefully in her embrace. She can’t remember the fondness that would bring a smile to her face whenever she saw him grin toothily at her from across the room. Dream has long been thrown out of her heart, back into the harsh storm that she sheltered him from all those years ago.
And she hopes it stays that way.
No son of hers was going to be known as cruel, unforgiving, manipulative—everything that she raised and expected him not to be.
Niki takes a deep breath and spins around, not a single ounce of hesitance in her step as she walks away from the scene. From the burning tree of what once was, from the large crater of her former home, from the man who looked identical to her son yet was completely different in every way imaginable.
She pictures him in her head: scarred face obscured by the unbelievably aggravating smiling mask at all times; tousled, dirty-blond locks that were beginning to grow just past his shoulders; eyes that could pierce sharper than a poison-tipped arrow; and a malicious smile that she wanted to tear right off of his face whenever she saw it. She compares it to the son that she loved way back when: freckled face with rounded cheeks; wavy, borderline-curly hair that he always begged to get braided by his mothers; eyes that were friendly and filled with a child-like wonder; and a big, impossibly contagious smile brightened her day whenever it came out to say ‘hello!’
Each note of a difference was just another coal tossed into the overheating furnace, and then and there is when Niki makes up her mind.
She wants that man—that stranger that killed her son, took his face, and replaced him—dead and gone. To meet the same ill-fate that L’manburg met just moments before this one. She doesn’t care how it happens; through the powers of nature, by the weapons of all the people that he crossed, or even by her own two hands if it came down to it.
A crack of thunder booms and echoes in her ears, a bolt of lightning striking nearby but steering clear of Niki’s path.
For even nature knows that a mother’s rage is a force to be reckoned with.
#niki nihachu#niki#dreamwastaken#dream mcyt#dream fanfic#mama niki#i was thinking about how puffy and niki are promised to each other#and puffy adopted dream#so that makes niki his mom too#and she canonically has a vendetta against him#so this happened#angst#yum
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It takes a Village
It takes a village to raise a child is an African proverb that means that an entire community of people must interact with children for those children to experience and grow in a safe and healthy environment.
*
When TK is forced to move in with Judd and Grace Ryder temporarily, he learns he has his own village taking care of him. Along the way, he finds friendships and a love that has been standing right in front of him since the beginning.
E. 19k fic
TK has listened to his father talk for the last 10 minutes without blowing up, and he thinks he should get credit for that.
“Let me see if I got this straight,” he starts when his father has finally stopped proposing his frankly stupid plan. “You want to kick me out of the apartment?”
Owen makes a face at him like he’s annoyed at TK for not understanding. But given that his father has just told him that he thinks working and living together might be a little too much right now, and he’s not telling him to look for a new firehouse, he’s not sure what the misunderstanding is.
“Don’t say it like that,” Owen has the nerve to roll his eyes while TK bites the inside of his mouth to keep from answering with a childish gesture of his own.
“I just think that working together and living together – it’s been a lot now with my diagnosis, and I think a little separation might be good. This shouldn’t be in your face 24/7.”
TK raises an eyebrow at the wording, ever since he found out about Owen’s cancer, he’s noticed that his dad tries not to use the word around him. It’s like TK is five years old again, and Owen is trying to keep him from learning a swear.
“I thought you said I wasn’t weak,” he questions softly, hating that he sounds hurt. He can tell his father instantly picks up on it by the way his eyes soften even more than usual.
Owen sighs as he gets up from behind his desk, coming to sit on the other side of it next to TK.
“I don’t think you’re weak. I know you’re strong. You have always been strong.”
“You want me to move out because you don’t think I can handle seeing you sick,” TK shoots back at him, that’s the point of this conversation after all.
Owen hesitates as he opens his mouth, sighing once more. He puts out his hand, palms up, letting him decide if he wants to take it or not. TK doesn’t for a moment as hurt and anger swirl inside him. In the end though, he can’t deny his father the comfort he seeks and takes his hand.
“I’m worried,” Owen admits, his eyes finding TK’s, they look tired and troubled. “You have been so on top of everything, researching everything about my cancer, keeping up here at work, making sure I have everything I need at home. You’ve been taking care of me.”
“I’m your kid, dad, it’s my job!” he jumps in, not liking the way his dad’s words don’t feel like a positive. Owen gives him a half-smile that is a little sad at the corners.
“And I thank you for it,” Owen answers, clutching his hand. TK responds with a noise of disbelief.
“I do,” he insists sternly. “But your first priority needs to be yourself, and you haven’t been doing that. You missed your group meetings twice this week and your therapist last week.”
TK lets go of Owen’s hand and starts to pace back and forth in his father’s office. He catches a glimpse of the engine room below; their crew goofs around as they clean the truck. “You’re point, please?”
“My point, Tyler,” Owen starts, causing TK to straighten up, his father calling him by his first name, is always serious. “Is that you’ve been so focused on me that you are neglecting yourself. We work and live together. My illness is in your face at all times. Maybe if we didn’t share so much space for a while, you wouldn’t worry so much.”
TK looks at his father with what he hopes is a disbelieving face. “You think I’ll worry less about you if I’m not home to make sure you’re okay? I think there’s a flaw in your thought process, dad.”
Owen smiles dryly at him, but TK can see, his stomach churning, that his dad has made up his mind about this, and once Owen Strand has made up his mind about something, it might as well be set in stone. “Humor me.”
TK racks his brain, trying to find something he can use to persuade his dad that this is a bad idea. “What about wanting to keep me close to make sure I don’t relapse?” he asks desperately, wincing at the hard look his dad gives him.
“That’s not going to happen,” Owen says firmly. “I believe in you,” he continues, making TK feel like shit for bringing it up. “But since I already found you a place, I know I don’t have to worry about that at all.”
TK’s brow knits together in the middle as he gives his dad a confused look. “You have a place for me?” he questions just as there’s a knock on the door.
Owen smiles again, this time a little smug, filling TK with dread. “Yep, and here he is now,” he says, waving towards the door as Judd Ryder walks into the office.
Well shit.
֎֎֎
“Let me see if I got this straight,” TK finds himself saying for the second time in the last hour. “You think that I should move in with Judd and his wife?”
He looks over at the man in question, finding an equally unimpressed expression on his face, so at least he knows Judd agrees with him on this being ridiculous. Owen has gone over his reasons again, that working and living together puts unnecessary stress on TK.
“He has an apartment above his garage,” his dad informs him as he smiles at the man. “Isn’t that right, Judd?”
Judd sighs deeply but nods all the same. “Yeah, Captain. Grace and I rent it out sometimes. It’s currently tenant free.”
Owen’s smile widens to the point he’s all teeth. “See? Perfect!”
TK nods. “Yeah, perfect, I move out so that I don’t ‘worry’ as much about you because that makes complete sense, and you still get to have a babysitter on me. Real perfect, dad,” he finishes with a bit of a shout, feeling instantly like an ass at the hurt look on his dad’s face.
“I mean,” Judd clears his throat, drawing their attention to him. “He’s got a point.”
TK points victoriously at Judd, looking back at Owen. He lets out a sigh at the serious look on his face.
“You’re not weak,” his father starts, making TK tense up.
His eyes flicker back to Judd, who is looking away to give them as much privacy as he can when he’s still in the room. “That’s not what this is about, but I would be lying if I say that I’m not worried about this negatively affecting you. I wouldn’t forgive myself if this causes you to backtrack.”
TK looks at his father, there’s pain and worry in his eyes, and TK knows that the cancer isn’t what scares his father at all right now.
As always, his worry starts and ends with TK. He wonders for the first time since this conversation started if his dad has been taking care of himself as much as he should, or has his focus been once again TK.
He swallows hard, overwhelmed by his father’s unconditional love – what he didn’t get from his mom, he got in spades from his dad.
“Okay, dad,” he starts quietly, holding his hand up when his father begins to smile. “I’ll agree to this on one condition. I’ll move in with Judd, give us some space. I’ll even focus on myself and go to my meetings. But – “
He points a finger at his dad, making sure he’s listening. “I get to go to all your doctor appointments with you, not just your chemo sessions, and if they say you’re getting worse, I move back, and I take care of you without you being annoying.”
Owen pouts, and TK can’t help but smile for the first time since this conversation started. “I’m not annoying.”
“You’re always annoying, dad,” he laughs as his dad’s pout deepens. He turns towards Judd, raising an eyebrow at him. “How does your wife feel about you bringing a stray home?”
Judd smirks at him, and TK knows he’s going to hate what comes out of his mouth next.
“Oh, no worries man, Grace has always wanted a puppy,” Judd’s smile widens when TK scowls at him. “Now I’m bringing home a golden retriever? Shit, I’m going to earn major husband points with this.”
TK is full-on glaring at the older man when his father lets out a snort, and he turns his ire towards his dad, narrowing his eyes at the innocent smile his dad tries to give him.
He stands up, heading towards the door. “I hate you both,” he declares as he leaves, grinding his teeth as his back is met with laughter.
Assholes.
֎֎֎
“He called me a golden retriever!”
“I mean, that’s like the best dog breed there is.”
TK pauses in the middle of his rant to shoot Carlos Reyes a dirty look. The police officer doesn’t look the least bit fazed as he bites into his taco. They’re both off shift, eating out of what Carlos claims is the best food truck in Austin. The cop offers him a soft smirk that makes his already handsome face even prettier. It’s fucking distracting when TK is trying to wallow in his pissy mood.
“I was going to put out tonight,” he tells him, getting a raised eyebrow in return. “That comment just ruined your chances.”
“You’re talking about another guy on our date again,” Carlos points out with a serious look on his face, though the way his eyes twinkle with amusement betray him. “The same guy as last time. If anyone is not putting out, it’s me, Tyler Kennedy.”
TK makes a scrunched-up face at his full name and the comment. “That’s an empty threat if I ever heard one,” he scoffs at him.
Carlos gives him a shark-like grin in return. “That’s funny; I was thinking the same thing about your threat.”
TK rolls his eyes at him. “I don’t find you as hot as you think I do,” he lies, feeling his heart tick up at the way Carlos’ eyes darken. TK watches as he licks his lips before rising from his chair to lean over the small outdoor table they’re using, bringing his face close to his.
“Are we just going to lie all night, Ty?” he questions softly, a slow-growing smile on his face when TK is helpless but to stare at Carlos’ full mouth. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“Umm…”
His eyes shut as Carlos’ mouth brushes against his for a second, the slightest touch, before he pulls away and sits back down.
TK can’t help it as he sways forward in his chair chasing after Carlos’ mouth, only to find air. When he opens his eyes, he finds Carlos staring at him with a smug look on his face.
“That’s what I thought,” Carlos says with a tilt of his eyebrows.
TK wants to be mad, but he can’t in the face of Carlos’ playfulness. After their less than stellar beginnings, what they are now – they aren’t putting a label to it yet, but TK looks forward to every second he spends with Carlos more than anything else – is nice and comfortable, while also being exciting in a way that just a look or touch from Carlos has a way of making his heart speed up.
They finish their tacos and jarritos, throwing their garbage away before they wave their goodbyes at the food truck owners. Carlos thanks them for the food in Spanish, a friendly smile on his face before turning back towards him.
“You want to walk for a little bit?” Carlos questions throwing his arm around his shoulders, and TK agrees, slipping his arm around Carlos’ waist. “So, besides the golden retriever comment, how do you feel about this?”
TK stays quiet for a moment, trying to think how to word what he’s feeling. He doesn’t think moving away from his dad is going to serve to distance himself from the situation. Ever since finding out about his father’s cancer, it’s become a constant thought in his head even in the background. He doubts that will change, but he also wants to make things easier for his dad anyway possible, and if this is what it takes, then so be it.
“He’s worried about me,” he says finally. “He’s worried I’ll be so focused on him, I’ll relapse,” he continues softly, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. “Which is fair, I’ve proven I can’t always handle a stressful situation without reaching for the Oxy.”
Carlos stops in his tracks, they’re in the middle of an active street downtown, and a few people throw them dirty looks, huffing as they go around them, but Carlos ignores them all as he turns to face him. “Do you think you’ll relapse?”
TK looks into Carlos’ kind brown eyes, finding no judgment, just compassion, and patience. It makes the knot behind his ribcage loosen.
“No.”
Carlos raises an eyebrow at him. “No, what?”
TK narrows his eyes at him, but he can’t help the small quirk of his lips. “No, I’m not going to relapse,” he states, not being able to help the smile that grows as Carlos looks at him proudly.
Carlos’ warm hand cups the back of his neck, squeezing it, his fingertips digging into the base of his skull, it makes TK feel instantly relaxed. “That’s right; you’re not. You know it, and I think Captain Strand knows it too. He worries because he’s your dad, TK. Not because he thinks you can’t handle things.”
TK brings up his hands, touching Carlos’ arms in a gentle hold, he hopes Carlos understands it’s his way of saying thank you. The way Carlos’ eyes go even softer makes him think the man gets it. “That’s what he said,” TK admits. “But he’s still worried, and I’m starting to realize that he’s not focusing on himself while focusing on me, so if this helps – “
“You’re willing to do it,” Carlos finishes for him.
“Yeah,” he says, sighing deeply. “It won’t be so bad, right? It’s not inside Judd’s home, so hopefully, I won’t bother him and his wife too much.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Carlos reassures him as they start walking again. He pauses, and out of the corner of his eye, TK can see him lick his lips, his expression hesitant as he continues. TK can feel him tense up under his hand. “And you’re always welcomed at my place if you need an escape,” he turns his head to look at TK, speaking softly. “Anytime you want.”
TK feels his heart stutter; he ducks his face into the crook of Carlos’ neck to not show it. “Thank you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against the underside of Carlos’ jaw.
Carlos pulls him closer; he feels Carlos press a kiss into his hairline. “Anything I can do to help, you let me know.”
֎֎֎
“You have a lot of stuff.”
TK looks up at Carlos from where he’s putting down a box in his new place. The apartment above Judd’s garage is surprisingly big. His first studio apartment in Manhattan was half the size. Texas’ real estate doesn’t stop shocking him.
“I’m not surprised, given all the stuff the Cap has at the station, figures his kid would be high maintenance too,” Judd comments, coming up behind Carlos with another box.
TK rolls his eyes at the older man, earning himself a smirk from the cowboy. Judd had greeted TK and Carlos outside as they drove up with TK’s things, a friendly smile on his face as he started to help Carlos and TK unload.
“You offered to help,” TK points at Carlos with his index finger.
“I’m not complaining, just making an observation,” Carlos answers, closing the space between them. “It’s just more than I expected.”
“I like my things; they make me who I am.”
“And I like who you are,” Carlos says easily, catching TK off guard with his casual sincerity. “So, I like them too.”
TK looks down at his feet, feeling his body go warm. After a moment, he looks back up at Carlos, finding his gaze on him. “Thanks,” he says softly as he sways into Carlos’ space, ready to thank him with more than words when he hears gagging by the window.
He turns his head, finding Judd watching them with an unimpressed look on his face. “Oh no, by all means, continue to moon over each other, I’ll get the rest of the Princess’ things myself,” Judd says sarcastically.
TK opens his mouth to shoot back when a beautiful woman he’s seen with Judd at the bar walks up the stairs. He instantly recognizes her as Judd’s wife, and thinks silently that she’s even prettier up close than what he already thought. Judd really married up.
“Judson Ryder, I hope I didn’t hear you being rude to our new tenant.”
Oh yeah, he likes her, TK thinks, curbing the desire to smirk as Judd starts to try and talk his way out of his wife’s hard stare.
“I was helping,” Judd grumbles, pouting at his wife, the tiniest of smiles on his face when Grace rolls her eyes at him. “Then, they started to get all gooey with each other. I had to put a stop to it before they completely forgot I was even in the room.”
TK feels Carlos shake with silent laughter next to him, when he looks up, he finds the man grinning shamelessly at him.
Grace looks up towards the sky for a second, an amused smile on her face as she looks back at her husband. TK watches in amazement as the big gruff man melts under her gaze. She looks over at Carlos and him, that smile still on her pretty face. “You’ll have to excuse Judd, he’s an emotionally stunted Texan,” she grins when TK can’t help his snort as Judd gives a protesting ‘Baby!’
“He also seems to have forgotten his manners,” Grace continues, stepping further into the apartment. “I’m Grace Ryder.”
“TK Strand,” TK says, extending his hand to her. “Nice to officially meet you, sorry I’m invading your home, but I’ll try to stay out of the way.”
Grace motions his words away with one hand while holding on to his other. “Don’t speak such nonsense; you’re very welcome here. The apartment has a small kitchen, but please feel free to come into the house if you need anything.”
“I’m not much of a cook, but thank you,” TK confesses with a shrug, turning to introduce the man next to him. “This is Carlos.”
“Carlos Reyes, ma’am, nice to meet you,” Carlos takes a step forward, shaking her hand as well. “I’ve heard you on the dispatch calls.”
“Me too, Officer Reyes, nice to put a face to the voice,” Grace smiles at Carlos with a twinkle in her eye as she looks at him. “Especially since it’s such a nice face.”
Carlos gives her a wide grin, though TK spots the hint of a blush high on his cheeks. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Call me Grace, please,” she tells him, turning back to TK. “That goes for both of you.”
TK smiles as he feels warmth and sincerity from her.
“Are you two done flirting with my wife?” Judd asks with a raised eyebrow when they all look over at him. “Pretty boy still has more boxes to bring in.”
Grace shakes her head, her mouth curving upward. She closes the space between her and Judd, placing her hand on his shoulder she goes to her toes to kiss him. TK watches as Judd melts again, holding her close.
“I’m going to start dinner, how does chili sound?” she questions Judd, making him close his eyes, a smile on his face.
“Like heaven, baby,” he answers, placing a kiss into her curls.
“Okay,” she says softly before looking back at TK and Carlos.
“You’re joining us, TK,” she says, pointing at him when TK opens his mouth to say he doesn’t want to intrude. “That wasn’t a request. It’s your first night here, and I want to get to know you. Carlos, can you join us?”
Carlos shakes his head regrettably. “I have a shift in two hours, so I have to go home soon to change. Raincheck?”
Grace looks at Carlos for a moment before nodding once. “I’m holding you to that.”
She turns back to Judd. “Finish helping and then bring TK into the house,” she tells him as she turns to leave.
“Yes ma’am,” Judd calls out as she leaves them alone.
“Dude,” TK starts, letting out a whistle. “I think I’m in love with your wife.”
Judd shoots him a look that is a cross between annoyed at him for the comment but also proud because, of course, everyone should love his wife.
“Thin ice Strand,” Judd gives him a look that lacks heat before heading back down the stairs for more boxes, leaving TK alone with Carlos.
Carlos slides in behind him, wrapping his arms around TK’s chest. “You know what I think?”
“What?” he asks, leaning back into Carlos’ embrace, he shivers as Carlos presses his nose against the shell of his ear.
“I think it’s going to be hilarious to watch Judd lose it as you charm his wife,” Carlos says, humor coloring his voice.
TK laughs, silently agreeing but putting up a front. “Who says I’m going to charm her? She might end up not liking me.”
Carlos snorts softly, his lips brush against his neck, making TK shiver. “Have you ever not charmed someone, TK?”
TK chuckles again, turning in Carlos’ hold. “Is that your way of saying I’m charming, did I charm you?” he teases, grinning when Carlos lets out a huff.
Carlos cradles his face, tilting it up, his lips hover over TK’s. He tries to move forward to close the hair-thin distance, the desire to kiss Carlos overwhelming.
“I’ve been charmed by you since the moment you sucked at line dancing,” Carlos says softly, his voice so smooth it takes TK a moment to understand the diss.
“Hey –” he starts, only for the rest to get muffled as a grinning Carlos covers his mouth with his. He deepens the kiss, making TK’s toes curl inside his sneakers, and TK figures his comeback can wait.
֎֎֎
They finish bringing the rest of his stuff in, and Carlos leaves after giving him a soft kiss goodbye and a promise they’ll talk later, all under Judd’s watchful eye.
TK turns to his crew member after Carlos has pulled out of the driveway to find Judd looking at him with a smug realizing expression on his face.
“What?” he questions as he follows him into his home.
Judd ignores him, laughing as he crosses the living room and goes to the kitchen with TK hot on his heel. Grace looks up from a pot, raising an eyebrow at them as Judd continues to chuckle, much to TK’s annoyance.
“What’s so funny?” Grace questions as she stirs, a half-smile on her face at Judd’s amusement.
Judd turns towards them from where he’s been digging in the refrigerator, pulling out two bottled waters, throwing one at TK.
“That’s what I’m asking,” he says, opening the offered water. “Your husband has a case of the giggles.”
Grace looks back at Judd. “Judson?”
Judd chuckles again, walking over to his wife. “TK and Reyes,” he starts, he makes a ridiculous kissy-face and lets out a deep sigh.
TK feels his face go hot at the obvious implications. “We’re friends,” he blurts out, he feels his face get hotter when Grace and Judd look over at him unconvinced.
“Oh sweetheart,” Grace starts, giving TK a tenderly amused smile. “I’m sorry, but that dog won’t hunt.”
TK frowns, confused. “I’m not sure what that means.”
Judd gives him a wide smirk. “It’s southern, for you are full of shit.”
TK opens his mouth to protest only to close it again, frowning at himself. He’s not lying, he and Carlos are friends. He likes his crew a lot, but after his dad, Carlos is the person he’s closest to in Austin, or at all these days. He hasn’t kept up with his friends back in New York, between settling into a new firehouse, his recovery, and now his dad’s health problems, those friendships have fallen sideways, especially since a lot of his friends where Alex’s friends too. Carlos is the only one that knows about his struggles, though he’s sure his crew has an inkling since he never drinks when they go out. Judd, who’s closer to his dad and Paul, who never misses a beat, probably have their thoughts. But Carlos knows because TK told him. That evening at the police station, he didn’t have to explain, and yet he did. He couldn’t help but tell him, a part of him hoping that Carlos would understand and that opening up to him would give them another chance after the failed dinner.
He told Carlos because he wants him in his life, he likes spending time with him. The sex is amazing, but just getting a bite to eat, catching up on their day, making Carlos laugh, or getting him to look at him in that way of his, that makes TK feel worthwhile, is more than amazing, it’s extraordinary. And like a true addict, he craves more of it, more of his attention and affection, two things Carlos gives him without hesitation. So, he guesses Grace and Judd have a point in suggesting he’s not being honest in the description of his and Carlos’ relationship.
A hand on his forearm pulls him out of his thoughts, and he finds Grace in front of him, a gentle smile on her face as she holds up a bowl of chili. She doesn’t say anything as she hands it to him, but there’s a look of understanding in her dark eyes that settles the sudden barge of thoughts in his head.
“Let’s eat,” she says, nodding toward the set-up dining room table with her chin. “Not to brag, but I make the best chili in the state.”
“Brag, baby,” Judd says as they walk towards the table, each taking a seat. “It’s heaven in a bowl kid, get ready to see nirvana.”
TK smiles, biting into what is honestly the best tasting chili he’s ever tried. He makes a noise that has Grace giving him a wide pleased grin. He continues eating, speaking when Grace asks him a question, adding to Judd’s stories about work. It’s nice, much more comfortable than he thought it would be, and he feels as he makes Grace laugh while telling her about a call they had the other day, that maybe this living situation won’t be so bad.
֎֎֎
TK lays down in his new room, the phone in his hand tells him it’s after midnight. The rest of dinner had gone well, and he’d spent some time with the Ryders before excusing himself for the night, telling the couple he needed sleep. The only problem now is that he’s in bed and he’s wide awake. Without thinking, he pulls up his messages, typing one out to Carlos before he questions himself.
‘What are you doing? Catch any bad guys?’
He doesn’t have to wait long before he sees the writing bubbles appear.
‘Yes, actually, and as a reward, I get to stay at the station until I finish writing up my report. What are you doing up? Don’t you have an early shift? 7 am, right?’
TK smiles, feeling warm at the fact that Carlos remembers his schedule.
‘Can’t sleep, brain is too loud.’
TK waits for Carlos to answer, startling when his phone starts to ring instead. He picks up the phone on the second ring. “You didn’t have to call,” he protests softly instead of greeting Carlos.
“It’s fine,” Carlos reassures him. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t sleep,” TK mutters, surprised when he feels frustration tears spring up. “Can’t quiet down my brain.”
“What do you need, Ty?” Carlos questions softly, the tone in his voice lets TK know without a doubt, that Carlos will do anything to make it better for him.
“You?” TK answers in a moment of honesty and weakness. He knows if Carlos were here touching him, he would be able to sleep afterward.
Carlos inhales sharply before going quiet, and all TK can hear is shuffling.
“I locked myself in the supply closet,” he says like it’s supposed to make any sense to TK.
“What do you need,” he repeats with intention, and TK gets what he means so suddenly it leaves him breathless as he realizes what Carlos is offering, hardening instantly.
“You,” he says again, this time with a sigh as he settles deeper into his bed, palming himself through his pants.
Carlos makes a soft, considering sound. “And what would you want me to do if I was there right now? Help you out of your clothes?”
“I’m just in bottoms,” TK answers, feeling a shiver as Carlos lets out a pleased hum.
“That makes it easier,” Carlos answers, his voice still smooth and controlled. “I could take them off myself, or have you do it, put on a show for me. Do you want to take them off?”
TK holds the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he kicks off his pants.
“Are you hard, Tyler?” Carlos questions.
“For you?” TK asks, teasing a bit. “Always.”
Carlos laughs softly. “I bet you look good, you always do, but you’re even prettier when you’re hard. Your skin gets all flushed, your cock pink and leaking. You have such a pretty cock baby. I want to get on my knees for you all the time.”
TK makes a whining noise at the picture in his head Carlos’ words make. He grabs hold of his dick and squeezes at the base to keep from coming. This is barely getting started, and he can’t believe Carlos is having phone sex with him while on shift, but he plans on enjoying himself.
“Is that what you want, TK?” Carlos asks softly. “My mouth on you? I like it, fuck, TK, I love it,” Carlos lets out a sound that makes TK’s stomach clench with need. “You taste amazing, the feel of you in my mouth and the sounds you make? I can’t get enough of those sounds. You just beg so pretty.”
“Carlos, please,” TK pleads.
“Yeah,” Carlos sighs. “Just like that.”
TK makes another noise at how Carlos sounds.
“Start touching yourself,” Carlos orders him, and TK is more than happy to listen. “Slowly. Make it last.”
TK does as he’s told, his strokes are soft and slow as he teases himself.
“I like sucking you off,” Carlos picks up the narrative again. “But I love eating you out even more. You always seem so surprised.”
“Not every guy likes doing that,” TK answers, not bothering to mention his ex.
Carlos hears it all the same. “He’s an idiot,” he says quickly before moving on. “I love it. If I were there with you right now, I would suck you just long enough to make you beg, but then I would turn you over, get that hot ass of yours in the air. You’d be shaking, knowing what’s coming as I spread you open. I would make you wait though, just touch my fingertips to your sweet hole.”
TK tightens his hold on his dick when he feels his hole clench at Carlos’ words. He feels empty as it spasms around nothing.
“After playing with you for a bit, I would give you the first soft lick, circling your hole as my finger pressed in the tiniest bit. Would you like that?”
TK makes a desperate noise. Yes, of course, he would like that.
“Use your words baby,” Carlos whispers. “Do you want my tongue?”
“Yes,” TK gets out, trying to take a deep breath, feeling it catch in his lungs. “I want your tongue.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want, TK,” Carlos continues, his voice just as low but rougher, and all TK can picture is Carlos hard in his uniform while his coworkers are on the other side of the door, not knowing that Carlos is taking TK apart with just a few words and promises.
“I’ll give you my tongue, lick you open, suck on your rim until it’s red and puffy, and you’re crying into the mattress, your legs spread for me, begging for more as you push yourself into my mouth seeking to get off. It’s not enough though, is it, Ty? You need more than my tongue teasing you.”
“Yes,” TK gasps, stroking himself harder with one hand, lights starting to go off behind his eyelids as the beginning of his orgasm builds at the base of his spine. He lets his other hand slip behind his balls, pressing against his perineum, making his body shake. His dick shoots off once. “I need your cock, Carlos. I need it so bad. I need to be full.”
“You’re close,” Carlos whispers, groaning softly into the phone.
“I’m there,” TK let’s out a shaky laugh as his hand moves faster to chase after the high.
“The next time we’re alone, I’m going to do everything I just promised,” Carlos swears hotly. TK’s breath halts in his lungs at how wrecked Carlos sounds. “I’m going to fill you up until all you know is me and my cock.”
TK comes in spurts, moaning loudly as he makes a mess of his chest and stomach. He keeps tugging on himself until he gets the last drop out and lets go of his spent dick.
Everything is quiet for a moment; the silence filled with only their breathing.
“Think you can sleep now?” Carlos questions quietly, and TK lets’ out a tired laugh. He’ll be lucky if he hears his alarm, he’s so relaxed and sleepy now. He tells Carlos, earning a chuckle from him.
“I’m glad,” he says, and TK can hear the smile in his voice. “Now, I’m going to go recite the APD manual to calm down; you go to sleep.”
TK feels something warm spread through him as he hears the fondness in Carlos’ voice. “The next time we’re alone –“
“I’m not letting you out of my bed until I’ve had my fill,” Carlos promises, making TK shiver.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he whispers back.
“Go to sleep, cariño,” Carlos orders him tenderly before TK ends the call and once again does as he’s told.
֎֎֎
“Hey, look! It’s the roommates!” Marjan calls out as he and Judd walk into the station.
“And they have matching lunch bags, that’s so sweet,” Paul teases as he comes over, pointing at the brown paper bags in their hands. The morning was rushed. After his late call with Carlos, TK had slept like a baby, and like predicted almost slept through his alarm. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one running late since Judd overslept too, neither having time for breakfast. Grace took pity on them and packed them egg sandwiches and some fruit to go.
TK tells them as such, getting a grin from Marjan and Paul in return. “Damn, maybe we should move in with Judd and his wife,” Paul questions, looking over at Marjan who nods back at him.
“No more strays,” Judd declares, smirking in his direction.
TK waits for the comment to annoy him, but it doesn’t come. It’s taken him a while, but he’s starting to understand Judd’s brand of humor, and the sibling-like roles they’ve taken with each other.
If Judd can be the aggravated older brother, TK can play the bratty younger one. “You’re just worried that I’ve only been there one day, and Grace already loves me,” he says, grinning when Judd lets out a huff.
His smile grows when Judd doesn’t answer with anything other than a grumpy ‘whatever.’
“TK charming your wife, Ryder?” Owen asks as he comes over, having overheard their conversation.
“It’s the Strand charm,” TK says to his dad, amused when his father puffs up his chest.
“That’s my boy,” Owen says, grinning widely when Judd shakes his head, muttering about pain in the ass Yankees as he walks away from them.
Marjan and Paul follow him, teasing as they go, leaving TK alone with his dad.
“How was your first night there?” Owen asks quietly. “Okay?”
TK nods quickly, reassuring his dad when he hears the worry in his voice. “Yeah, everything was fine. Grace is very welcoming; she made the most amazing chili, and Judd was his usual gruff self, but you know that’s just the way he is. He’ll take the shirt off his own back if it helps someone. He helped me with my stuff.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be there,” Owen says with an apologetic look. “I had to go over paperwork with Captain Blake.”
TK shrugs, knowing this the day before. “That’s okay, Carlos helped out too.”
He realizes his mistake when Owen raises an eyebrow at him. “Officer Reyes? That was nice of him.”
TK clears his throat, shifting from one foot to another, he hasn’t talked about Carlos with his dad yet, not knowing what to say.
That they hang out? They have sex? That Carlos is the first person he reaches out for when he can’t sleep?
He blushes slightly when he thinks about the night before.
“Well, he’s a nice guy,” TK stutters, feeling like when he was 14, and had his first crush on a boy while his father gave him the same knowing grin he’s giving him now.
“That he is,” Owen answers with a small chuckle as TK’s blush deepens.
“Shut up, dad,” he mutters, walking away to the sound of his dad’s laughter.
֎֎֎
They get called to a three-car accident downtown a little after two. Austin Police is already there, and TK spots Carlos taking statements from a witness. The moment he spots them, Carlos wraps up with the woman to walk over to them.
“Captain,” he greets Owen, his eyes finding TK’s for a moment before he starts to explain the situation. “Green Chevy ran the red light at top speed, t-boning the silver Sedan before getting its rear hit by the truck,” Carlos points. “The truck driver is fine, the idiot in the Chevy seems fine too, Michelle is checking him out. The sedan driver is conscious, but we can’t get her out, a teenager named Lily.”
Owen nods and starts calling out orders after assessing the situation. It doesn’t take them long to pry open the car, the girl inside is awake the whole time but crying.
“My dad is going to be so pissed,” she sobs, letting out a pained groan as they get her out as gently as they can. “It’s his car.”
“Your dad isn’t going to care about the car,” he tells her as they put her on the stretcher where Michelle is waiting to take over. “He can get a new car, not a new you, Lily,” he gives her a kind smile when she gives him a small nod.
He starts to walk back towards the fire truck, picking up some of their equipment.
“Good job,” Carlos says as he falls into step with him.
“You too,” he answers, stopping half-way from the truck to speak to him.
“Did you sleep well?” Carlos asks curiously, the hint of a smile on his face.
TK feels himself go hot, and he knows it has nothing to do with having his safety gear on, or the Austin weather, it has everything to do with the heat he sees in Carlos’ gaze as he looks at him.
“Better than I’ve slept in months,” TK admits, his pulse spiking as Carlos’ eyes darken even further.
Carlos takes a step closer to him, angling his body as he leans in to whisper into TK’s ear. “Think how much better you’ll sleep if you spent the whole night in my bed.”
TK’s breath hitches, they haven’t done that yet, every one of their encounters has ended with TK leaving afterward.
“There’s a saying down here,” Carlos continues in a low voice that makes TK shiver. “Rode hard and put away wet.”
TK swallows hard as he looks at Carlos, wobbling slightly into his space, causing Carlos to smirk.
“I’m going to wear you out,” Carlos promises, his tongue licks at his bottom lip, and all TK can do is follow the movement with his eyes and try not to whimper.
“My shift ends at eight,” he says, not even trying to be coy. He knows what he wants, and right now, it starts and ends with Carlos Reyes.
Carlos gives him a slow grin, his eyes sparkling with joy and promise. “I’ll pick you up at the station.”
֎֎֎
TK is by the mirrors fussing with his hair when Judd comes up next to him, freshly showered like TK.
“Am I driving you home?” Judd asks, looking through his toiletries for his razor. “Grace texted asking if we feel like take-out, said she had a long day.”
“I have plans with Carlos,” TK says as he works in some mousse into his hair. “He’s picking me up in a few.”
Judd makes a noise, and when TK meets his eyes through the mirror, he sees that the older man is grinning to himself.
TK knows he should ignore it, but he’s always been too curious for his own good, sighing at his lack of control, he asks. “What’s with the grin?”
Judd turns to face him, giving him a shrug, the grin still firmly in place. “Nothing, it’s just nice that your friend is coming to pick you up.”
TK rolls his eyes at the clear mocking in Judd’s voice. “Don’t start man, we are friends,” he says, even though he knows there is so much more to it than that, he’s been thinking about Carlos all afternoon, thinking about getting his hands on him. Still, he also realizes that as much as he thinks about having sex with Carlos, he finds himself thinking just as much about the other moments. When they eat and share, when Carlos goes out of his way to make TK feel comfortable, how he’s willing to sacrifice his night to help TK cheer up a friend, or how he’s ready to talk him through a frankly spectacular orgasm just to help TK sleep, even if he doesn’t get off himself.
He likes having sex with Carlos; there is no denying that they’re perfectly compatible in that area, but he also likes all his other moments with him too. He simply just really likes him.
Judd laughs, breaking through his thoughts. “Yeah, kid,” Judd chuckles, he points a finger at him. “Your face right now says just friends, the way you two were looking at each other earlier, with little to no space between you guys, says just friends too.”
TK’s face grows hot, and he finds himself shifting from foot to foot. “You saw that?”
Judd snorts at the question. “We all saw it, kid,” he tells him, smirking when TK shakes his head. He looks around, his eyes lighting up when he spots Paul coming out of the showers.
“Strickland, you saw TK and Reyes earlier after we pulled out that girl from her car?”
“You mean when they were whispering and eye-banging each other?” Paul questions, not missing a beat even as TK turns redder while Judd lets out a shout of victory.
“Ha!” Judd crows.
Paul raises an eyebrow at them. “What’s the big deal? They always look at each other that way.”
Judd grins, looking back at Paul. “And what way is that, Strickland?”
Paul looks from Judd to TK, an amused smirk on his face. “Officer Reyes looks at TK like sunshine comes out of his ass.”
TK brings his hands to his face, it feels like it’s on fire, but he can’t deny the spark of happiness the comment brings him. Paul never misses anything, that’s his thing, so if he’s saying it, there has to be truth to it. Still, he can’t help but feel embarrassed when Paul continues.
“And TK isn’t much better with the moon eyes he gets when the good officer is around,” he finishes, walking away now that he’s said his peace.
“Thank you, Strickland!” Judd calls out before turning back to TK with an expectant look. “You were saying?”
TK opens his mouth before closing it again.
He ends up shrugging. “Fine, I like him, okay?” he says looking at Judd, he’s lost his amusement, now looking back at TK with zero judgment. “I really like him. I just –“
Judd tilts his head, waiting on him to see if he wants to keep talking or stop. When he first met Judd, he’d written him off as just some redneck, rough around the edges and probably not someone who would become his friend. Now, he’s ashamed of his snap judgment. Judd was blunt and harsh, but he was also kind and patient with every single one of them. He’d seen it with the others, and he’s seen it with his dad, but especially with him. Judd said they were brothers, and he meant it.
“You know about my ex,” he questions, getting a nod in return. “That really messed me up, more than anyone here knows,” he hesitates, looking up at him, hoping it’s enough.
Judd gives him another nod. “In your own time kid, it’s your story to tell.”
TK exhales, swallowing around the lump in his throat. His therapist has told him time and time again that part of healing is being able to talk about what he’s been through with others.
“I got addicted to pills years ago, and OD’d,” TK doesn’t look at Judd as he continues, not ready to see the expression on his face. “I got clean and didn’t use again until the night I proposed to Alex, and he told me he had been cheating on me with his trainer. I OD’d again, my dad and our team saved me,” he looks up at Judd now, finding a look of sympathy on his face.
He lets out a surprised sound when Judd pulls him into a bear hold of a hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says quietly, as TK returns the hug. Being an only child and growing up with just his dad after his parents divorced – wife number two wasn’t around for long – TK finds himself clinging to him and the brotherly affection he’s so freely offering.
“Thanks,” he whispers back before pulling away. They’re both quiet for a moment when Judd asks.
“And Carlos?”
TK sighs. “I like him,” he repeats. “I just don’t want to mess him up with my shit.”
“Does he know?” Judd questions, a small smile appearing on his face when TK nods. “And he’s still sticking around,” he says pointedly. “So maybe he doesn’t see it as you messing him up. Paul wasn’t lying when he says Carlos looks at you like you’re something special, it’s obvious.”
TK can’t help but smile at that.
“Which is weird,” Judd continues, his tone and expression turning to tease. “Cause honestly you’re a pain in the ass,” he grins when TK shoots him a dirty look, the heaviness of their moment alleviating. “No accounting for taste, I guess.”
TK scoffs even as he’s not able to stop a laugh from passing his lips; he opens his mouth to answer back when Mateo sticks his head in the room.
“TK?” he says, spotting him. “Officer Reyes is downstairs looking for you.”
TK feels his pulse tick up. He thanks Mateo before he turns back towards the mirror, making sure he looks good.
“You look fine pretty boy,” Judd assures him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Can I give you some advice?”
TK looks at his friend and nods.
“Forgive yourself for the past,” Judd starts, his expression serious. “Once you do that, you’ll open yourself to the future. Be that Carlos or not, from where I’m standing, yours looks pretty bright.”
֎֎֎
“Fuck,” TK lets out a low groan, his hands grasp Carlos’ slick back as he thrusts into him, his strong body covering TK’s as he clings to him, legs wrapped around Carlos’ waist as he takes him higher and higher, his body tightening like a coil ready to spring.
Carlos lays open mouth kisses against the length of TK’s throat, biting down softly. “You feel amazing,” he says hotly against TK’s skin. “I can’t get enough of you. I always want more.”
TK licks at his dry lips as he tries to answer, but at that moment, Carlos gives a snap of his hips, touching a part inside of TK that sets off sparks through his body, and all TK can do is dig his fingers into Carlos’ back as he frantically meets him thrust for thrust. He lets out a whimper when Carlos sneaks a hand between their overheated bodies to wrap his skilled fingers around his cock.
TK can’t help the pleas that fall off his lips as Carlos times his thrust and strokes perfectly, pulling a shouting orgasm out of TK that leaves him shaky and weak as he continues to come. Distantly in his post-orgasm haze, he realizes that Carlos is close himself. His movements aren’t as smooth as before as he grinds himself against TK’s ass, and he can feel him pulsing inside him.
Leaning up, TK presses his mouth against Carlos’ ear. “You feel so good inside me,” he whispers, smiling when he feels Carlos freeze. “I’m so full, just like you promised,” he continues letting out an almost pained whine as Carlos presses himself even further inside TK’s body. “Come, baby,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering as residual bursts of pleasure pass over him. “Come for me.”
Carlos lets out a low groan, shaking as he does what he asks, and TK can’t help but let out a noise of his own from the feeling of Carlos throbbing inside him.
They stay locked in each other until Carlos completely softens and pulls out. TK makes another soft sound, this one of loss. He knows it’s not practical, but if he could have it his way, he would have Carlos inside him forever. He tries not to overthink what wanting that means.
Carlos rolls off him breathing heavily. “Is it just me, or do we just keep getting better at that?”
TK laughs breathlessly, his body shaking not just from amusement, but from the mind-melting orgasm he just finished having. Carlos looks at him, a giddy smile on his face. He leans over, giving TK a soft kiss.
“I’ll be right back,” he says against TK’s mouth, getting up before he can answer.
TK watches him head for the bathroom, admiring the spectacular view that is Carlos’ backside. He closes his eyes as he hears the water run, he’s cozy and sated, and he thinks he can fall asleep right this instant; he’s that satisfied.
A few minutes pass before the bed dips again, but TK doesn’t bother opening his eyes until he feels a warm wet cloth run over his stomach, cleaning him up. TK looks at Carlos, a lump of emotion forming in his chest as Carlos takes his time, moving pass TK’s stomach, going lower. His touch is gentle and light as he cleans TK’s tired cock, and TK can’t help the soft gasp he lets out when Carlos slips the cloth between his cheeks, wiping softly at his entrance.
The care is so loving and tender, and not something TK is used to, that he has to blink back the stinging sensation he feels behind his eyelids.
When Carlos is done, he looks at TK, his expression gentle as he sees that TK is more than a little emotionally compromised. He leans back down, brushing his lips across his. “How about breakfast for dinner?” he asks, kindly not drawing attention to the fact that a tear has slipped down the side of TK’s face. “Pancakes?”
TK clears his throat, a shaky smile on his face. “Banana pancakes?”
Carlos’ smile grows. “I can be convinced,” he teases, standing back up. Crossing over to his dresser, he pulls out a pair of AP sweats. “Here, put these on and meet me in the kitchen.”
TK takes a moment after Carlos has walked away to take a breath and center himself, no doubt Carlos’ intention. He feels a rush of warmth and gratitude for the man. He seems to know precisely when TK needs to pull back for a breather and gives TK the space he needs without complaint or demands.
He walks out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, smiling as he spots Carlos already working on the pancakes, music plays softly throughout the house. He steps up behind Carlos, kissing the back of his neck gently, smiling into the skin when Carlos tips his head back.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asks, poking at Carlos’ side when he chuckles.
“You’ve confessed that you’ve burned water before,” Carlos reminds him, evading his fingers when he pokes him again.
“That was said in secrecy and not to be used against me at a later date,” he pouts against Carlos’ shoulder, biting down on the meat of it.
Carlos lets out a heavy breath, his body letting out a small shudder. “Keep that up, and I’m dragging you back to bed without food.”
“Oh no, not that,” TK teases, laughing hard when Carlos gives him a small shove.
“Go stand over there and try not to be so attractive,” Carlos points towards the counter with a spoon.
“I mean, I can try,” he says, smirking at the man as he hops on the counter, spreading his legs slowly in a way that makes Carlos shoot him a warning look. “But that’s like telling a fish not to swim or a bird not to fly.”
Carlos looks at him, a reluctant smile starting on his face, and TK feels his cheeks hurt as he grins back. He can’t remember the last time he enjoyed bantering with a partner this much. Alex had never really taken to his jokes or teasing personality.
“You think you’re real cute, don’t you,” Carlos asks, that amused smile still on his face as he shakes his head.
“I think you think I’m cute,” TK shoots back.
Carlos’ expression softens. “I do.”
TK feels his eyes widen in amazement at how easy it is for Carlos to just say things like that to him. He lays his heart bare for TK to see. Carlos just seems to want TK to know he cares about him with little to no concern for himself. Remembering what Paul and Judd said earlier about how Carlos looks at him, he can’t help but ask.
“Do you think sunshine comes out of my ass?” he blurts out, cringing even before the words leave his mouth.
Carlos startles, his eyes wide as he lets out a hesitant chuckle. “What?” he asks as he puts down the spoon, turning his body to look at TK head-on.
TK shifts on the counter, his face turning red from his ridiculous question and the intensity of Carlos’ focus on him. “Something Paul said earlier about the way you look at me,” he answers, feeling dumber by the second. “Forget it. It’s so stupid. I’m stupid.”
TK looks down at the floor, shaking his head at himself, amazed at his ability to put his foot in his mouth. He startles when hands slide up his thighs before resting on his waist. Looking up, he finds Carlos standing between his knees, looking at him with that same tender expression he seems to have for TK alone.
“I don’t know if sunshine comes out of your ass,” Carlos starts, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly at him, and TK can’t help but smile back, letting out a huff of laughter that makes Carlos’ smile grow before his expression turns serious.
“But I do know that being around you is like being out in the sun,” he continues, his hand coming up to cup the back of TK’s neck. “Everything is brighter and warmer when I’m with you.”
TK looks at Carlos, eyes moving over his features, the warmth of his brown eyes, the softness of his smile, the character of his eyebrows, and he finds himself nodding slowly.
“I feel the same way when I’m with you,” he whispers like it’s a secret. In a way it is, this thing between them is so new and precious to him already, it feels like saying it louder will disturb it. “I see colors with you,” he gets out, his heart thundering under his ribcage at the blinding smile his words get in return.
֎֎֎
Judd comes into the weight room, stepping in as his spotter as TK lifts. “You didn’t come home last night.”
“I stayed at Carlos’ apartment,” he gets out as he pushes through the last of his set. He sits up after a moment, thanking Judd when he hands him a towel to dry his face. “He took me home this morning to change and then dropped me off here.”
Judd smiles at him pleased, and TK can’t help but roll his eyes as the Texan radiates smugness. “What?”
Judd continues to grin as he gives him a shrug. “You just called my place home is all.”
TK looks at Judd a moment longer, rolling his eyes again but softer. “You know you come off as this grumpy jackass, but in reality, you’re just a lovable teddy bear.”
Judd narrows his eyes at him, but it doesn’t hide his amusement from TK one bit. “You better not tell anyone.”
“The secret is out big guy,” he says, laughing hard when Judd gives him an unamused look. “We all know.”
“You know, I was going to help you out with something,” Judd answers, all cryptic and annoying. “But now I’m just going to sit back and watch.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” TK questions just as his phone bings with an incoming message. He smiles for a moment when he sees that it’s from Carlos only to lose the smile when he reads the message.
‘Grace called me? Not sure how she got my number, but she asked me if I wanted to have dinner with you guys tonight. I told her I couldn’t agree without running it by you first.’
TK looks up from his phone to find Judd smirking at him knowingly. He glares at the older man, sighing when it does nothing but amuse him some more. “It wouldn’t surprise you to know Grace invited Carlos to dinner at the house tonight, would it?”
Judd’s answer is a wide grin that makes TK shake his head. “How did she even get his number?”
Judd snorts. “She works answering calls all day. Do you really think it’s hard for her to get a phone number?”
TK rolls his eyes at the answer, he waits to feel annoyed by the turn of events, but he can’t deny that he likes the idea of dinner with his friends and Carlos. It feels serious to start bringing him around to the people in his life, but there is something about it that makes him excited, while also fearing that it’s putting Carlos on the spot. He swipes his phone open and types out a quick message.
‘I can get you out of it if you don’t want to have dinner with them. Sorry, she shouldn’t have ambushed you like that, but I think she thought I wouldn’t tell you if she asked me first.’
TK presses send. He doesn’t have to wait long for Carlos’ answering text.
‘I didn’t feel ambushed, I like Grace, and I did promise her a raincheck. It just depends on if you want me there.’
TK licks his lips, his pulse ticking upward as he sends another text. ‘What do you want?’
‘Nope. What do YOU want?’
TK feels a reluctant smile on his face; he can hear Carlos’ patient but gentle teasing through his text. He takes a calming breath before typing honestly.
‘I want you to come to dinner.’
He waits a moment, smiling when he sees Carlos’ answering text.
‘I texted Grace. I’ll see you guys at 8.’
He looks up from his phone at Judd, and he can’t help the smile on his face. “Carlos is coming to dinner.”
֎֎֎
TK walks into the Ryder house, showered and dressed, making a beeline for the kitchen that smells delicious. He finds Grace chopping a carrot as he goes around the counter to her side.
He leans in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a meddler,” he teases as he pops a piece of carrot into his mouth.
“Goal-oriented,” Grace corrects him with a raised eyebrow daring him to say otherwise.
TK raises a brow back at her. “And that goal would be?”
Grace lifts a shoulder as she keeps chopping, smirking as Judd walks into the kitchen. “Dinner with three gorgeous men, of course.”
TK chuckles, watching as Judd’s face goes from pleased to irritated for being called gorgeous but being lumped with him and Carlos.
Turning to TK, he gives him a hard stare. “Stop flirting with my wife, Strand.”
“I’m just over here appreciating beautiful things,” TK raises his hands while Grace grins, looking down at what she’s working on. “And Grace is one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.”
Judd opens his mouth, closing it after a moment, saying nothing.
He looks over at Grace sharing a conspiring grin with her. “It’s funny how he wants to tell me off, but he can’t because he knows it’s the truth.”
Judd lets out a huff as he comes around the counter to stand next to Grace, looking over her head to look at him. “I know she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, kid.”
Judd smiles down at his wife, and TK gets the distinct impression that he’s not really in the room anymore as they look at each other lovingly.
“I knew she was the prettiest girl in the world when I saw her across the football field and saw her in rival colors cheering at the top of her lungs as her team hammered mine. I fell ass over tits in love right there.”
Grace smiles amused; she looks at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lost the game and then crossed the field to ask me out as the team and my squad stared at this bold redneck.”
TK laughs, charmed by the story and the couple, there is something beautiful about watching them be together, even as it makes something inside him ache. He wants what they have, that level of comfort and affection. He sees the happy smiles on their faces, and he wants that excitement of knowing you’re with who you’re supposed to be.
There’s a knock at the door that pulls him from his thoughts, his heart ticking upward from who it is, and he knows there’s a broad smile on his face by the amused look Grace and Judd give him.
“Go,” Judd jerks his head towards the door. “Don’t keep lover boy waiting.”
TK rolls his eyes out of habit, already heading for the door. He opens it, his breath catching as he takes Carlos in, he’s dressed like the dinner date that wasn’t. Slacks and a dress shirt that fits him like a glove. The two top buttons are opened, and TK wants to rip the rest off just like the last time.
He looks back up at Carlos’ face after checking him out, finding the man grinning at him pleased, aware of what he’s doing to TK no doubt.
“You look good,” he blurts out, earning another smile.
“Thanks,” Carlos answers before stepping closer to TK, brushing his front against his. He’s so close, TK is forced to look up to keep eye contact. “You look good too.”
TK opens his mouth to make a joke but is stopped by Carlos covering his mouth with his. He grabs hold of Carlos’ arms, leaning heavily against him as he gets lost in their kiss. The swipe of Carlos’ tongue against his makes him whimper as he clings to him.
“I know you two fools aren’t making out in my doorway while making us wait for you.”
TK reluctantly pulls his mouth off Carlos’. He turns to find Judd staring at them with a judging look, his eye narrowing when he looks down at Carlos’ hand.
“Those flowers better be for princess here,” he warns Carlos, making TK notice for the first time that Carlos is holding a small bouquet of sunflowers.
He looks back up at him and finds Carlos grinning, causing TK to grin too, his smile turning into a chuckle when Carlos answers that they’re for Grace, and Judd gives him a sour look.
“Great, another asshole trying to steal my wife,” Judd grumbles as he turns away from them.
TK giggles. “Nice touch,” he says, nodding towards the flowers.
Carlos shrugs. “They’re your friends,” he says like it explains everything. “I want them to like me.”
TK stops.
Carlos’ words and reason sinks in, Judd is like a brother to him, and even though he’s only been living with them a short while, he already adores Grace more than words can say. She’s like the loving big sister he never had.
His crew is important to him. Carlos understanding and wanting to be part of that, warms something inside him.
He takes Carlos’ hand in his, linking their fingers as a silent thank you, the smile Carlos gives him back, feels like you’re welcome.
֎֎֎
“Who do you keep texting?”
TK lifts his eyes from his phone to look across the room at his father. He takes in his half-amused smile and bright eyes. He’s half-way into the day’s chemo round and luckily not looking worse for wear.
“Weren’t you sleeping?” he questions instead of answering, he ignores his phone as it buzzes again.
“I was just resting,” Owen corrects him, he points at TK’s phone with his chin. “Then I opened my eyes and have been watching you for the last fifteen minutes, grinning down at your phone as you text.”
TK can’t help but blush, feeling caught by his father. “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Maybe some ginger ale?” he asks as he stands up to look through the bag he’s taken to bringing with him when his dad has a treatment. He feels himself go hotter when Owen lets out a humorous chuckle.
“Damn, it’s that serious, huh?” Owen teases, his eyes playful as TK huffs and shoots him a look. “The last time you were this evasive, was when you had a crush on that boy in your English class senior year. What was his name? Matt?”
TK rolls his eyes as he sits back down, knowing it’s pointless to ignore his father, he’ll just keep going. “His name was Marcus,” TK answers. “And this is nothing like that.”
Owen’s eyes light up, just as TK realizes he’s made a tactical error by admitting anything.
“So, you’re not staring at your phone like a schoolboy with a crush as you talk to…” Owen trails off, the look on his face daring as he waits to see if TK caves.
“Carlos,” TK admits reluctantly, and if he thought Owen looked pleased before, it’s nothing like the grin he gives TK now.
“Carlos?” he starts, the name said with a pleased tone, the corners of his mouth twitching. “As in Officer Reyes? That Carlos?”
“Have you seen me hanging around any other Carlos?” TK grumbles, feeling distinctly juvenile but unable to stop. “Yes, dad, that Carlos.”
Owen raises his hands in defense. It would mean something if he wasn’t smirking at TK. They both go quiet for a moment when TK’s phone buzzes again.
TK stares at his dad for a moment before giving in to the urge to look down at his phone.
‘Want to hang out after my shift tonight? I miss your face.’
TK huffs softly, staring at the message, unable to help the way the simple text warms him from the inside out.
“There’s that smile again, TK.”
TK finds his dad’s eyes on him, a gentle look on his face, he opens his mouth, pauses, and closes it again.
His first instinct is to deny, but he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to deny anymore. He thinks of the conversations he’s had the last couple of weeks, with Grace, with Judd, Paul’s comments, and finally his moments with Carlos.
How easy it is for Carlos to let TK know he cares about him, never expecting anything in return for his affections. He thinks about how good he feels around Carlos, the bright colors all around him when he’s with him. The smile on his face he can’t hide when he’s with the other man, talking to him, or even just thinking about him. He can’t deny it, and he doesn’t want to anymore, somewhere while he was busy trying to keep this thing between them casual and unimportant, it became utterly vital to his existence.
He’s always been an open book to his father, so he’s not surprised when his father makes a stunned sound, his eyes shining with happiness.
“Oh kiddo,” Owen gives him a tender smile, his eyes a little wet. TK feels his own eyes sting, but he smiles widely as he comes to grips with his realization and the strength of his emotions; they’re overwhelming but incredible.
‘I’m in love with Carlos.’
TK gets up and takes Owen’s hand, giving it a squeeze when his father reaches out for him. “I’m happy for you son.”
“Yeah,” he manages to get out, still in shock by what he’s feeling. “I’m happy too.”
֎֎֎
They’ve been called on their third emergency of the day, a fire at a two-story frat house at the local college. They manage to put out the fire, the last licks of it on the far west corner of the house being handled by his dad and Mateo as the rest of them start to make their way through the floors making sure no one is trapped. Paul and Marjan make their way up the stairs while he and Judd search the ground floor.
“Austin Fire and Rescue!” Judd calls out. “Make a noise!”
They push through a door, finding it full of smoke and ruined walls but no victims and move on to the next.
Each room they check is empty to their relief.
“We might get lucky with this one, and no one got hurt,” he comments, as they step softly. The house seems to be fine, but you can never be too sure when it comes to structural damage of a place after a fire.
“Yeah,” Judd agrees, assessing the place. “Looks like everyone got out.”
TK nods, biting down on his lip. He’s been wanting to talk to Judd since the moment of clarity he had with his dad, but he hasn’t found the time. The night before he’d spent it with Carlos, enjoying his company now with the knowledge that he loves him. He’s sure it showed on his face the whole time as they enjoyed their date before making out in Carlos’ car outside the Ryder’s home. Carlos’ soft smiles and even softer kisses made TK feel like the most precious thing in the world, and he had to press his lips harder against Carlos’ to keep from blurting out everything he’s been feeling.
“Can I ask you a completely inappropriate question for what we are currently doing?” TK asks, unable to hold back. They have one more room to check before they’re done with their sweep.
Judd shoots him a wary look over his shoulder, sighing as he goes. “Okay.”
TK sucks his lip into his mouth, trying to figure out how to phrase his question. Finally, he just says what first comes to mind. “When you realized you loved Grace, did you tell her right away?”
Judd comes to a stop, turning to look at him with an incredulous look. “Really, TK, now?”
“Hey, I said it wasn’t time appropriate,” TK defends himself. “I warned you, I wanted to wait, but I’ve been holding it all day, so I’m asking.”
Judd gives him an eye roll, but TK sees the amused upward quirk of his lips. “Finally stopped bullshitting yourself about Reyes, huh?”
“Don’t gloat,” TK whines. “Help me, like a good brother would.”
Judd’s expression softens, even as he gets the last door opened. “You know Grace is too good for me right?”
TK smirks at him, that’s an understatement. Judd is a great guy, but Grace is perfect, better than all of them combined. “I’ve noticed.”
Judd glares at him as they move into the room, checking the other doors. “I’m trying to help you, brat, so watch it.”
TK makes a ‘shutting up’ motion to appease him. It doesn’t fool either of them, and Judd gives him another look before softening again.
“My point is, Grace is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So you best believe the second my dumb ass realized I was in love, I told her. I didn’t wait for a second, because every second not telling her that she’s my whole world is a second wasted,” Judd tells him with a serious look.
They finish the sweep and head back for the hallway.
“So if you are finally ready to admit that you and Carlos aren’t just friends, or casual, or messing around, or whatever other bullshit terms you’ve been using in that head of yours to deny your feelings. Tell him. Tell him and don’t waste a second. We aren’t guaranteed the next one, TK.”
Later, when TK has time, he will think Judd’s words are prophetic. Right now though, when one second Judd is walking a few feet ahead of him, and the next he’s crumbling to the ground as a large part of the floor above them drops on him, TK doesn’t have time to think.
“Judd!” he screams, coughing as dust and plaster fills the already smoky air.
He rushes to the man’s side, eyeballing the hole above them, making sure nothing else is coming down. He pushes the broken pieces of debris off his friend, finding that he’s out cold with a large gash on his head. “Judd, wake up,” he demands, his pulse spiking with fear when the older man doesn’t move. He gets two fingers under Judd’s coat, pressing them to his neck. He lets out a relieved exhale when he finds a pulse.
He grabs his radio, speaking into it. “Firefighter down. I repeat, firefighter down on the ground floor left corner of the house.”
It takes but a second for his dad’s voice to come through, demanding but calm. “TK? Report.”
“It’s Judd, dad,” TK swallows hard as he sees more blood running from Judd’s wound, fear gripping him again. “Hurry.”
֎֎֎
There’s a low buzz around him as he stares out the window while he and the rest of the crew wait in the hospital to find out about Judd. No one has tried to approach him since his dad hugged him in support before going to sit with Captain Blake.
He doesn’t turn to face his crew, his emotions are too at the surface right now, and he doesn’t know if he’ll snap in anger or burst into tears if he has to deal with their concerned looks. Judd is the one in the hospital bed, not him, but since the rest of the crew helped him get the older firefighter out of the house, unconscious and unresponsive, they’ve been giving him looks like he’s the one hurt.
The noise behind him picks up, and he vaguely realizes that there are more people in the waiting room with them now, he doesn’t acknowledge them either. He tenses when he feels someone step up behind him, and he finds himself curling his fist. A hand touches him between his shoulder blades, and he spins on his heel, ready to rip whoever is trying to comfort him a new one.
He’s not the one hurt. That’s Judd and Grace, who’s inside with her injured husband, and who had an absolutely heartbreaking look of fear on her face before she ducked into the room with the doctors.
He opens his mouth to shout when he finds those kind brown eyes he loves looking at him with concern.
He doesn’t shout; instead, what comes out is a wounded noise that he would be embarrassed if it were anyone else hearing it. Carlos pulls him into his arms before the sound has completely died out, and TK finds himself clinging to his strong frame as he shakes.
Carlos makes shushing sounds as he cradles the back of his head, rubbing his back, and TK realizes with a burning shame that he’s started to cry without meaning to.
“Shhh, Tyler, sweetheart,” Carlos whispers into his ear, his hold on him unbreakable. “I need you to take a breath for me.”
TK shakes his head because he can’t. Judd is hurt, and if TK hadn’t been distracting him with stupid questions, maybe he wouldn’t be right now.
“My fault,” he gets out, the words choking him.
Carlos pulls back, shaking his head. “It was an accident,” he says sternly because he doesn’t understand. TK loves him, but he doesn’t get it right now. “Accidents happen in our line of work unfortunately.”
TK wants to argue – he opens his mouth to do so, he’s to blame, and Carlos needs to know – when Grace rounds the corner, coming into the waiting room. Everyone who is sitting stands up, taking a step towards her.
“He’s okay,” she says with a trembling smile. “Sitting up and making a fuss about going home.”
Everyone lets out a breath, some even laughing. TK feels his knees go weak with relief. He’s not sure he would be upright without Carlos’ hold on him.
“Can we see him?” Mateo asks eagerly, and Grace smiles.
“Yes,” she says, holding up a hand when everyone starts to move. “But he wants to see TK first.”
All eyes turn to him, making him take a step back into Carlos.
“I –” he stalls.
Grace crosses the room until she’s in front of him. “He said he wants to see his kid brother first, TK.”
TK swallows, his eyes flooding with tears as Grace looks at him earnestly.
“I should have watched out for him better,” he whispers to her, though the room is quiet enough he knows the other’s hear. “It’s my fault.”
Grace raises an eyebrow at him. “I guess now I understand why he said ‘I want to see my dumb kid brother’ when he asked for you.”
TK startles at the insult but doesn’t have time to get offended as Grace pulls him into a hug.
“It’s not your fault,” Grace says as she holds him, and TK finds himself holding her tight right back. “You had his back and got him out.”
“Always,” TK promises her.
Grace pulls out of the hug smiling at him as she cups his cheek. “I know. Now go see him before he scares the nurses with his scowls.”
TK musters up a wane smile for her before turning back to look at Carlos, not surprised when he sees the supportive look on his face. Carlos tugs him back to his side for a moment, pressing a kiss at his temple before giving him an encouraging nudge forward. Grace takes his place next to Carlos, and TK has to smile at the way he immediately pulls her into his arms.
She looks back at him with a smile on her face. “Make him eat his jello.”
֎֎֎
TK pauses at the door of the hospital room. Judd is sitting up, but his eyes are closed. He has a bandage over his left eyebrow, and except for some scrapes on his face, he looks fine.
“Are you going to hover there like some timid mouse, or are you going to come in?” he calls out, cracking one eye open to look at him. “You know we only have at maximum ten minutes before the rest of the crew barges in here right?”
TK cracks a smile, making his way into the room. “That’s being generous, six minutes, max.”
Judd lets out a snort; he nods towards the chair next to his bed for TK to take.
TK sits down, and he fidgets as the silence in the room feels heavy. Finally, he looks up, meeting Judd’s gaze. “I’m sorry, man,” he starts quietly. “I should have been paying attention. I should not have been distracting us with dumb questions that could have waited. I’m so sorry, Judd.”
Judd looks at him for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I hate always being right.”
TK frowns at him, confused by the comment.
“I told Grace to get you in here because I knew your dumb ass would be blaming yourself for this,” Judd explains, holding up his hand when TK opens his mouth to argue. “This was an accident, kid. Shit happens in our line of work; you know that.”
TK licks his lips nervously. “Carlos said the same thing.”
Judd smirks at the mention of the cop. “Obviously, he’s the brains of your relationship. You, pretty boy, can be the looks.”
TK scowls at his friend, holding up one finger. “One, hey. Two, Carlos is beautiful so again, hey, and three, obviously Grace is the beauty and the brains in your relationship, so what do you bring to the table?”
Judd stares at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re a fucking brat.”
TK grins a wide smile, the tension inside finally easing up as he falls into the easy banter he and Judd have. “You want to play know-it-all, big brother, then I’ll play my part, as the annoying little brother. Your wife said for you to eat your jello,” he points at the tray on the other side of the bed.
֎֎֎
They all stay with Judd until the night nurse comes to kick them out. One by one, they say their good-byes until it’s just TK and Judd in the room. Grace, who is staying the night, though Judd wants her to go home, steps out with Carlos.
“She should go home, she’s just going to be uncomfortable here,” Judd sighs tiredly.
TK raises an eyebrow at him. “If Grace was in that bed,” he points. “Would you go home?”
Judd stays quiet for a moment, probably annoyed that he’s using logic on him.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says quickly to appease him. “We’ll come back early with breakfast for both of you and see if we can annoy some doctors into springing you out of here early. Okay?”
“We, huh?” Judd smirks at him. “Which ‘we’ are you talking about, kid? You and the Cap? The crew? Or you and your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” TK says quickly, swallowing nervously as his body reacts to how badly he wants to be able to call Carlos that.
Judd gives him a superior look, that if he didn’t already have a head injury, TK is pretty sure he would smack him. “Well, then you better have that conversation with him and change that, don’t you think?”
“You’re in a hospital bed, and you’re still trying to give me romantic advice?” TK asks, rolling his eyes, though he can’t help but smile.
Judd gives him a bored shrug. “Stop being so slow and do as I say, and I won’t have to.”
TK rolls his eyes again. “I’m leaving now. I don’t have to take this abuse.”
Judd nods at him. “Good, talking to you gives me a headache anyway,” he says with a grin.
TK shakes his head with a reluctant laugh. He crosses the room and leans down to hug him. He gets a few thumps on the back in return. “I’m glad you’re okay, brother,” he says quietly as he pulls back.
“Thanks to you, kid,” Judd answers, nodding towards the door. “Go, let your boy take you home to get some rest.”
TK says good-bye one more time before he exits. He finds the hallway empty except for Grace and Carlos, who are talking quietly to each other, they turn towards him as his sneakers squeak. Grace goes on her toes to hug Carlos. TK watches as she whispers something into his ear that makes Carlos’ eyes snap to him. He swallows a sound at the turmoil he finds reflecting in them as he looks at him. He hadn’t noticed it before.
Grace pulls out of their hug and crosses over to him. He leans down when she cups his cheek and presses a kiss on the other. “Take care of him,” she says quietly, giving him a soft smile when he nods, his eyes still on Carlos as he fidgets under his gaze.
“I will.”
֎֎֎
The ride home is quiet and tense in a way he hasn’t felt around Carlos since the night he ended up in handcuffs for fighting. He watches from the corner of his eye the hard grip Carlos has on the wheel of his precious Camaro, and all TK wants to do is reach over and take his hand until it loses its stiffness.
Carlos pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine plunging them into more silence without even the radio to fill in the quiet. TK looks over at him, biting down on his lip, not sure what to say. Luckily Carlos helps him out, he turns his head to face him, and TK takes in how worn out he looks.
“Can I – ” Carlos clears his throat, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at TK with such a look that it would knock him over if he were standing. “Can I stay here with you?”
TK bites down on his lip harder to keep the tremble from being visible, relief washes through him at Carlos’ request. He nods and keeps nodding, getting a small half-smile from Carlos in return.
“Thanks.”
They get out of the car, making their way up to his apartment above the garage. Flipping on the lights, TK stays by the top of the stairs as Carlos looks around. He hasn’t been up here since he helped TK move in. Their overnights always happen at Carlos’ apartment.
“It’s nice,” Carlos says, looking around once more before his eyes settle on him.
TK doesn’t say anything; instead, he studies him, his beautiful Carlos, who wears his heart on his sleeve and every emotion on his face. TK reads fear on it now. He knows the expression well, having seen it on his own face plenty of times. He grew up with a father who runs into crumbling towers.
“I’m okay,” he says quietly, knowing he’s hit the nail on the head when Carlos’ eyes widen, and his hand at his side shakes.
“TK –”
“I’m okay,” he repeats, his heart clenching when Carlos makes a noise that sounds close to a sob. “I’m right here.”
“But you almost weren’t!” Carlos shouts, his arms going tight around his waist as he tries to hold himself. “You could have gotten hurt just like Judd, or worse, it could have been you under that caving ceiling. It could have been you in the hospital, and I’m an asshole because I’m just so relieved it wasn’t you. Judd is your friend, your family, and he’s my friend too, and I’m glad he’s in the hospital because at least it’s not you!”
TK’s chest aches as he sees tears in Carlos’ eyes, the frustration and fear even more evident.
“I’m sorry,” Carlos continues, not realizing how his words leave TK feeling breathless. “I’m sorry for thinking that, I’m sorry for laying this at your feet right now especially after the day you’ve had. I should be comforting you, and instead, I’m just spilling my feelings all over you.”
“I didn’t mean to – ” Carlos cuts himself off, his expression pained, and TK knows what he won’t finish, his heart pounding hard under his ribcage at Carlos’ unspoken confession. “I know it’s not what you want,” he ends unhappily.
‘I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.’
TK hears it like a shout even as it’s silent, he takes a breath before letting himself finally say out loud what has been crawling at his throat to get out.
“I love you,” he says, feeling the last broken piece inside his heart mend with the confession. Carlos’ eyes go wide, and his hands fall to his sides.
“What – ” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
TK nods, his eyes are starting to sting, but he’s not sure from which emotion, they’re all a chaotic mess inside him right now.
“I love you,” he repeats. “When Judd got hurt, I was asking him if he told Grace the moment he realized he loved her. That’s what I was distracting him with when the ceiling fell. He told me that a moment not telling the person you love that you love them is a moment wasted. I don’t want to waste a single moment with you, not one second. I love you, Carlos.”
TK watches Carlos move, but he still finds himself gasping when Carlos crushes his mouth to his, his hands holding on to TK’s face, hard and desperate just like the kiss.
“I love you,” Carlos says between their frantic mouths, hands trying to hold on to any part they can. “I love you so fucking much.”
TK half-laughs, half-sobs into the kiss, feeling lighter than he has in years.
Carlos pulls back to look at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears, but there is a smile on his face that takes TK’s breath away. “Tell me again,” he asks softly, the amazement evident on his face, and TK makes himself a promise in that moment to never go a day without telling Carlos how much he loves him. He’ll never again let him doubt his feelings.
“I love you.”
֎֎֎
TK sits on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing while he waits for Carlos to finish up in the bathroom. He tries to get himself to calm down. He and Carlos have been doing this for months; if there’s one part of their relationship they’ve got down, it’s the sleeping together part. This time isn’t any different.
The thought isn’t even over, and he’s scoffing at himself. Everything is different now, better, and that’s a good thing, even if there’s a part of him that is terrified he’s going to mess it up.
“Your face right now.”
TK looks up, his breath catching. He’s known Carlos is a good-looking guy since the first time he saw him. Even with the emergency, the baby in the tree, and him feeling pride over his dad, he still noticed Carlos. And then later at the bar, out of his rain gear, in sinfully tight clothes that showed off his beautiful body. TK remembers having a moment of damn and want when Carlos asked him to dance. That feeling has only grown with every moment he’s been privileged to have with him.
Looking at him now, dressed down to just his boxers, all that beautiful skin on display, TK has that moment again mixed in with ‘I love him, and he loves me.’
It leaves him staring, his heart thumping hard under his skin.
He must be easy to read because Carlos gives him a smile that is equal parts loving and filthy as he walks towards him. He looks up as Carlos towers over him, his eyes fluttering shut when he leans down, cupping his face as he gives him a soft kiss.
He sighs into it as Carlos’ tongue licks it’s way inside, his body lighting up when Carlos responds to the sound by tightening his hold on him, turning the kiss from a gentle touch to something dirtier as he sucks on TK’s tongue.
Carlos breaks the kiss slowly, his eyes dark and promising, the corner of his lips quirk upward before he sinks to his knees between TK’s legs. Hands on his knees, he slides them up his thighs, tapping TK’s hips for him to lift them. TK leans on his hands and does as Carlos asks, swallowing hard when Carlos pulls down his boxers. He feels himself grow hot as his hard and leaking cock slaps against his stomach.
Carlos smiles at him one more time before he ducks his head down. He presses his face where TK’s thigh and groin meet as he breathes TK in. “I love the way you smell,” Carlos says against his skin, his hot breath making TK shiver. “I love even more how you taste,” he continues right as he gives the meat of TK’s thigh a soft suck that makes TK moan helplessly.
He watches through slit-open eyes, his body tight like a coil as Carlos takes his time, kissing and sucking, biting gently only to smooth the sting out with his tongue. He touches everywhere but where TK wants him the most. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, his cock red with beads of pre-come sliding down his length, making a mess as Carlos teases him by getting close but never taking him in his mouth.
“Carlos, please,” he begs when he can’t take it anymore. Carlos looks up at him from where he’s been licking the crease of TK’s groin.
“Yeah, baby?” Carlos asks easily, and it would come off as uninterested if it weren’t for the fact that there is a rosy color high on his cheeks, and his brown eyes are all but black. “You need something?”
TK whines quietly. “Don’t tease.”
Carlos smirks up at him; his lips are cherry-red from the mess he’s been making out of TK’s inner thighs. “Use your words, Tyler.”
TK narrows his eyes at him, lust pumping through him at the game Carlos is playing. He surges forward pulling Carlos into a filthy kiss, he bites at his bottom lip, feeling smug when Carlos groans. Licking his way into his mouth, he mimics everything he wants from Carlos before breaking the kiss. “I want you to suck me,” he says against his lips. He pulls back, leaning back on his hands once more as he tilts his hips towards Carlos. “There, I used my words.”
Carlos grins half-amused, and TK returns the gesture, feeling smug. It only lasts a moment as Carlos leans forward, and with his tongue flat against the underside of TK’s cock, licks up slowly.
“Fuck!” he shouts, falling back on the bed, and he hears Carlos chuckle right before he closes his mouth around the head of his cock as he begins to suck. TK curses again. He grabs on his own hair pulling on it for something to do with his hands as Carlos circles one hand around his base and starts to bob up and down, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks TK in deep.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” TK chants, the tight wet heat of Carlos’ mouth is the most perfect torture TK has ever experienced. It continues for a few minutes as Carlos licks at him, sucks him like it’s what he was made to do. TK feels his body start to tighten. The edges of an orgasm beginning to get sharp just as Carlos pulls his mouth off him.
“What?” TK asks, downright pouting when Carlos stands up instead of finishing. Carlos gives him a soft lingering kiss, letting TK taste himself on his tongue.
“I want you to fuck me,” Carlos whispers against his lips, the words wreaking havoc to TK’s system. It’s not that they don’t do that, they’re both versatile guys, but it still catches TK by surprise. “Up on the bed baby, lay back.”
TK moans softly, his cock giving a jerk as he starts to get the picture of where this is going. He pushes himself up on the bed, lying down in the middle. He watches as Carlos pulls open his side table, taking out a condom he throws next to TK before he opens a small bottle of lube. TK licks at his dry lips as he watches Carlos coat his own fingers.
Carlos climbs on to the bed, throwing a leg over TK as he straddles him. He flashes him a dirty little grin right before he slips his lube-covered hand behind himself.
“Fuck me,” TK breathes, his mouth open in awe as Carlos’ eyes flutter to a close as he starts to open himself up for TK.
Carlos grins as he starts to move against his fingers, taking them in deeper. “That’s –” he trails off, letting out a low moan as he touches himself, opening his eyes to look down at him. “What you are going to do to me,” he jokes, letting out a breathless laugh when TK groans.
TK looks at Carlos to find that smug grin on his face again. With narrowed eyes, he sits up, careful not to jolt Carlos as he reaches for the discarded bottle of lube.
“What are you doing?” he questions, his breath catching as TK trails his wet fingers over his hip and down the slope of his ass. He slips between his cheeks as he joins Carlos’ fingers.
He smirks at him, his tongue touching the corner of his mouth as his fingers press against the rim of Carlos’ opening before he slips one digit in next to Carlos’ two. “I’m helping.”
“Dios mio,” Carlos chokes out, his body arching when TK finds and presses the small bundle of nerves he’s seeking out.
TK watches in awe as Carlos twists and bends as he rides their fingers, he doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful.
“You look amazing like this,” he whispers, leaning in to lick at Carlos’ collarbone. “You’re perfect.”
Carlos moans softly, pulling his hand out, he grabs hold of TK’s shoulders, he pushes his ass against TK’s fingers for a moment before he uses his grip on TK to shove him back on the bed.
TK lays there watching Carlos with wide eyes as the man grabs the condom next to them, rolling it on to TK’s hard cock. He gives TK a couple of pumps of his hand that leaves TK panting before he slides up, and with one hand on TK’s cock presses it to his opening before sliding down slowly and smoothly.
The tight heat of Carlos’ body around him leaves TK gasping, his head thrown back as Carlos sets his pace with controlled lifts of his body before he presses down again, taking TK as deep as he can, grinding himself to the hilt.
“You feel so good inside me,” Carlos moans. His body is all flushed and hot as he rises and falls. TK watches mesmerized by the sight Carlos makes as he uses him for his pleasure. “I’m so full.”
TK groans at the words and the feel of being inside Carlos, he all but sobs as he clenches around him. His hands go to Carlos hips as he plants his feet on the bed for leverage, snapping his hips upward, pulling a choked moan out of Carlos when he does it again, meeting him for each thrust.
“Yes, baby, keep going,” Carlos groans falling forward. He kisses TK, all tongue and teeth as they wrapped their arms around each other. Their moves take a frantic turn, as Carlos rubs himself against TK’s body, his cock between them leaving a wet trail on TK’s stomach. “I’m going to come,” he pants, his face tucked into TK’s shoulder. “Don’t stop, baby, please.”
TK holds onto Carlos’ ass, spreading his cheeks as he pushes his cock into Carlos harder and faster, his orgasm is fast approaching, he can feel it build, and his body tightens with the need to release, but Carlos is shaking in his arms, and the noises he’s making are the hottest TK’s ever heard. He’s going to make him come first if it’s the last thing he does.
He lifts his head to kiss the side of Carlos’ face. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispers against Carlos’ ear, getting a soft whine in return. “I want to feel that tight squeeze around me as you come.”
Carlos shudders once, his body locking before he lets a long drawn out moan, and comes between them. Just like he wanted, TK feels the squeeze of Carlos’ body as he spasms around his dick. Snapping his hips upward three more times, TK follows him, spots appearing behind his eyelids as he comes.
They lay there intertwined, catching their breath, Carlos’ body is heavy on him but comforting. Once he’s softened, he slips out of Carlos’ body and runs his hands up and down Carlos’ sweaty back to soothe him as his body lets out a few last tremors. Carlos is pliable like this, and with his arms still around him, it’s easy for TK to roll them over.
He gets up on shaky legs, telling Carlos he’ll be right back when he makes a questioning sound. Getting rid of the used condom and cleaning himself up, he comes back with a wet cloth. He gently cleans up a sleepy Carlos the way he did for TK a few days ago.
“Mmm,” Carlos mumbles, there is a soft smile on his face as he looks up at him through half-opened eyes. “Thank you.”
TK smiles back at him, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss. He lets out a shout, laughing when Carlos uses the moment to pull him into bed. He giggles helplessly as Carlos moves him where he wants, and TK finds himself with an arm full of a beautiful, incredible, hopelessly in love with; Carlos Reyes.
“Cuddle time?” he teases as his fingers find their way to Carlos’ hair, his fingertips softly scratching at his scalp. He turns his head, grinning as he presses a kiss on Carlos forehead when he all but purrs under his touch.
“Mmhmm.”
TK chuckles softly, pulling Carlos closer, and he’s starting to fall asleep when he hears him.
“Tell me again?” Carlos asks softly. TK can hear the smile in his voice, finding it on Carlos’ face when he tips his chin up to look into his eyes.
There is so much love in Carlos’ gaze, the way his expression softens tells TK, Carlos is seeing the same love reflected back at him.
Touching the corner of Carlos mouth, he leans down to press his forehead against his. “I love you, Carlos.”
֎֎֎
Two Weeks Later
“You’re doing it wrong.”
“I know how to use my own grill, Strickland.”
TK leans against his boyfriend, grinning as he watches Judd and Paul argue over how best to cook the chicken on the grill in the backyard of the Ryder’s house. He hides his face in Carlos’ shoulder when his snicker makes both men look over at him with a glare.
“Something to add, Strand?” Paul questions him with a raised eyebrow.
TK shakes his head, still grinning as he rests his head on Carlos, his arms relaxed around the cop’s waist. “Nope, just enjoying the show,” he shoots back, his smile growing when he feels Carlos shake with silent laughter.
Judd narrows his eyes at them. “Pretty boy is all smug over there because he’s in love,” he smirks at him as he continues. “Like he wasn’t the last to realize the truth while the rest of us knew from the beginning that he was ass over tits for Reyes.”
TK feels himself blush as Carlos’ silent laughter turns into a loud snort. He looks up at Carlos with a glare. “Who’s side are you on?” he pouts at him.
Carlos smiles softly at him, closing the small space between them to give him a soft press of his lips. “Yours, of course,” he whispers, his hand tilts TK’s chin to give him another peck. “Always.”
TK sighs into the kiss; he lifts his hand to touch Carlos’ neck. Their lips part, but TK doesn’t break away. Instead, he holds Carlos close, smiling as he rubs his nose against his.
“Gross,” Marjan calls out as she makes her way over to them with Mateo a step behind her. “Is this what an in love TK is like, all mushy?” she mocks with a teasing grin on her pretty face.
Mateo laughs at him, and he isn’t the only one, Paul and Judd also grin in his direction. When he looks back at Carlos, he finds his face carefully blank, but the twinkle in his eyes give him away.
He pulls himself out of his hold and crosses his arms. “I’m going inside to help Grace with the sides,” he declares, taking a step back, he mock-glares at all of them as their grins grow. “I like her more than any of you anyway.”
He turns away from them, grinning as he makes his way up the house while they shout they love him to his back.
He walks into the house to find Grace and his dad at the kitchen counter. His dad cuts veggies while Grace works on a dip.
“Hey dad,” he greets him as he sneaks a piece of celery, giving Grace a boyish grin when she shoots him a warning look. “When did you get here?”
Owen smiles at him as he continues to chop. “A little while ago,” he answers. “Came in through the front and stayed to help Grace. It sounds like you guys are having fun out there.”
“Yeah, fun teasing me,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes when Owen and Grace shoot him a look. “I came to hide in here with Grace because she’s my favorite, so don’t you two start too.”
Owen and Grace grin at him for a moment before Grace moves towards him, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you too, TK.”
TK beams down at her, pulling her close. “My Favorite.”
“How quickly I’m replaced,” Owen says sadly.
“You dramatic city boys,” Grace shakes her head, her dimples popping as she smiles. She takes the finished dip and the tray of veggies Owen has ready. “I’m going to take this outside to tie them over.”
“I can help,” TK reaches for the tray only for Grace to pull it away.
“No,” she starts, she shoots a look in his dad’s direction before looking back at him. “You two stay and talk.”
TK frowns at the purpose behind her words as he watches her walk out of the kitchen, leaving him and his dad alone.
He turns to his father, noticing a paper in his hand. “What’s up?”
Owen looks at him, pensive, his expression giving away nothing. “I saw my doctor today.”
TK goes still at the words, fear, and frustration seizing him. He focuses on the anger instead of the fear. “I thought we made a deal,” he starts, taking a breath to keep from shouting. “I moved in here with Judd and Grace. Just like you wanted, and I go to every doctor’s appointment and chemo.”
“TK –”
“Every last one, dad!” TK continues, not letting Owen interrupt him when he’s wrong. “Not the ones you pick and choose to ‘protect me,’ we had a deal damn it!”
Owen holds up his hands. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he rushes, trying to calm him down.
TK presses his lips together, his arms crossed, anger vibrating inside him.
Owen lets out a deep sigh, leaning back on the counter. “I’m sorry,” he says again, this time slower. “You’re right, we had a deal, and I broke it.”
Owen looks at him, his blue-green eyes full of anguish. “I get scared TK,” his voice barely above a whisper. TK lets his arms drop as he hears the pain in his dad’s voice. “When I allow myself to think about it, I get so damn scared that I’m not going to beat this, and when that gets into my head, it’s all I can think about. If you come with me, you’ll see it. You’ll see that I’m terrified.”
TK’s eyes sting as he holds back the tears, and he sees his dad is doing the same.
“I’m your dad, TK,” Owen says with a watery smile. “I’m supposed to be strong for you.”
TK shakes his head, the tears slipping down his cheek. “Not with this, dad,” he says quietly but firmly. “We’re a team. It’s been you and me for so long; you have to let me be there for you, please.”
Owen nods, sniffing as he runs the back of his hand under his nose. “You’re right,” he gives TK another shaky smile. “Of course you’re right, I’m sorry.”
TK crosses the space between them, pulling his dad into a hug. “No more hiding things okay?” he askes into his dad’s shoulder. “We do this together.”
He feels his dad bob his head as he holds him tight.
When he pulls back, he finds Owen smiling brightly at him. He gives him the piece of paper, and TK frowns as he looks at a picture of two sets of lung x-rays. “What does it mean?” he asks tentatively, his worry easing slightly when Owen beams at him.
“This one is from when we first got to Austin,” Owen points at the left scan that shows a mass. “This one is now,” he points to the right where the mass is considerably smaller. “It’s shrinking, TK.”
TK lets out a stuttered breath, licking his lips as he looks at the scans through another fresh round of tears. “You’re getting better,” he whispers.
Owen swallows as he gives him a fatherly look. “Yeah.”
Letting out a small cry, he hugs his dad again as his body shakes. They hold on to each other, fear, and relief mixing in both of them. In the distance, TK hears the team outside talking and laughing. Pulling back again, he wipes under his eyes, smiling when his dad claps the back of his neck.
“I get why you wanted me here,” he starts. Owen waits silently for him to continue. “You wanted me to have a support system. For so long, it’s been you and me. We had our crew back in New York, but it was still always you and me. You wanted to give me more, that’s why you wanted me to move in here with Judd and Grace.”
Owen gives him a soft nod, his shoulders relaxing as he understands.
“You were right,” he continues, he grins as he hears Judd shouting something in the back, followed by roaring laughter. “I needed this. I needed them.”
Owen smiles softly. He opens his mouth to say something, but TK holds up a hand to stop him.
“But that doesn’t let you off the hook,” he tells his dad, his lips quirking upward. “You still have to stick around for a long time, so you need to keep kicking cancer’s ass. Deal?”
Owen chuckles as he shakes his head. “Deal, son.”
TK smiles, throwing his arm over his dad’s shoulder. “Come on; let’s go join them before they leave us without food.”
Owen laughs again as they walk towards the back. They get to the back door and stand there together as they watch their crew mingling around the yard. TK’s seeks Carlos out, not surprised to find his eyes already on him. He smiles softly at him when Carlos gives him a questioning look, tinted with concern.
“That smile is back,” Owen says at his side as he watches him. TK shifts his gaze from Carlos to look at his dad. “I’m so happy you’re happy, kiddo,” Owen echos his words from their last visit to the clinic.
“I’m in love,” he says easily, earning a small chuckle from his dad.
“Yeah,” Owen says, laughing. “That much is clear.”
TK looks over at Carlos again; he’s crossing the distance of the backyard to get to them. He holds out his hand to him, interlocking his fingers with his when Carlos reaches them.
“Everything okay?” he questions gently as he spots TK’s red-rimmed eyes.
TK nods yes, just as Owen shakes his head, making them look over at him with concern.
“Actually,” Owen starts, staring at Carlos with a raised eyebrow. “I recently found out that my son’s boyfriend had dinner with Judd and Grace before having dinner with me. This is obviously a mistake that needs to be corrected immediately.”
TK rolls his eyes, his shoulders relaxing. He lets go of Carlos’ hand to slip his arm around his waist, surprised to find him tense. He watches as Carlos stares at his dad with wide-eyes, and looks back at his dad, shaking his head as the man smirks in their direction. “Cool it with the dramatics before you freak Carlos out. He’s not used to your dad humor yet.”
Owen’s smile softens as he watches them. “He’ll have plenty of time to do so.”
TK looks from his dad to Carlos, silently agreeing, there’s plenty of time. Now that TK has him, Carlos isn’t going anywhere, and neither is his dad if he has anything to say about it.
“I’m off next Thursday evening, Captain,” Carlos offers, remembering that TK has three days off starting that day.
“Great!” Owen says happily. “We’re off too, Thai food or pizza?”
TK throws his head back, letting out a groaning laugh. Carlos coughs, trying to hide a smile of his own, he gives TK’s hip a squeeze in their shared amusement.
“Or I can cook?” he offers shyly. “I’m a decent cook.”
TK glares at him before turning to his dad. “Don’t listen to him, dad, he’s not decent, he’s a fantastic cook.”
Carlos blushes at the compliment, his eyes shining as he looks at him. “You’re biased.”
“You’re amazing,” TK pokes him in the chest. “Deal with it.”
Carlos pulls him closer, and TK is ready to get lost in his eyes when Owen clears his throat. They look over at him, finding a smirk on his face as he looks at them.
“You’ve twisted my arm,” he jokes. He nods towards the crew who have started lining up for food. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to use my Captain hat to cut the line.”
He cups TK’s shoulder, giving it a pat before walking away.
Carlos turns to him, his hands on TK’s waist, while TK lets his hands rest on his shoulders. “You sure everything’s okay?”
TK turns his head to look out at his family. He smiles as his dad tries to sneak in behind Marjan and Michelle for food. Paul, Mateo, Nancy, and Tim are talking and eating together at the table, while Judd has an arm around Grace; she grins up at him as he whispers something in her ear.
He looks back at Carlos; he’s watching TK with a loving look in his eyes that TK is never going to get enough off. He tugs him forward, and Carlos goes easily, his lips covering TK’s. He sighs into the kiss, lost in the feeling until he hears loud heckling.
Pulling back from the kiss, he laughs as their friends continue to tease them. There’s a gorgeous blush on Carlos’ face along with a beautiful happy grin.
TK loves him, and every other person here, what’s even more amazing is that they all love him right back.
He looks at Carlos and with a happiness that warms him to the tip of his toes, he says, “I’ve never been better.”
THE END
#911 lone star#tarlos#tarlos fic#911 lone star fic#tk x carlos#my writing#trying to post once more#in the hopes it actually shows up on the tags
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Chapter two
Patience and Penitence.
A/N: Chapter two. I’m actually loving the plot behind this series and I hope I can stay as true to the comics as possible. I hope everyone reading enjoys. P.s. Don't be afraid to message me with suggestions or requests for the next chapter. Much loveee!
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff (Smut {*Very Soon*} in future chapters)
Summary: Tony and peter draw some conclusions, y/n is very clumsy and also very late to class, and Peter decides its time to face up and make an appearance.
Read Chapter One here
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Penitence; (noun): The action of feeling or showing sorrow and regret for having done wrong; Repentance.
“Were fucked how...wait why?” Peter breathed in deeply and ran his hands through his curls. He thought back to you when you would ask him questions about your physics assignments and how patient he would try to be to help you understand.
Be patient.
“These...beings...are using us as hosts. Think about this like...an organ transplant or a blood transfusion.” Peter was stumbling over his words, trying to make sense of it himself when really, he had a feeling they had only just scratched the surface. “If it's not the right type, then it won’t work, yeah?” Tony nodded. “I get it, kid, I’m a mechanic not a dumbass, these aliens aren't compatible with the people they're trying to feed off of, so, therefore...they die.” Peter breathed out. “Exactly.” his eyes began lulling back, exhaustion was just now hitting him, despite the intriguing discovery they were making.
“So the one that attacked you...Didn’t deem you a suitable host?” Tony looked at peter up and back down. “Not to be weird, but I find that hard to believe.” Peter furrowed his brow and chuckled softly. “Meaning?” he grumbled out as he leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. “Think about it, you regenerate and recover thrice the normal rate of any human, I’ve seen you stop a bus with your bare hands, lift an airplane terminal, and hold together a ferry that was split in half. So if I was a symbiote...I’d, ya know...get up in that.” Peter laughed and his head fell in his hands as he tried to ponder what had happened.
San Francisco wouldn't be so bad for a week. y/n was stressed out anyways from finals and Fury had said he needed help with some intel they had gathered about the Life Foundation, harboring foreign lifeforms, and they needed to be confiscated from the “Rather stubborn” CEO, Dr. Carlton Drake. “Nothing some goddamn force can’t fix. Besides, your Ironman and Spider boy, and I'm Nick-fuckin’-Fury what can go wrong?” Peter grumbled under his breath “It’s spider- MAN” and Tony shot him a warning look as they neared the highway gate.
Getting through to the front entrance was easy enough, (Nick was very convincing) and up to the labs was a treat until push came to shove and Dr. Drake refused, as Peter expected he would, to give up his “Life's work” The next thing he knew, guns were being fired, webs were being shot, one blast from Tony’s suit, and three symbiotes had escaped.
Peter couldn't remember much of how it happened, only that he felt as if his skin was meshing, bonding with something unnatural. Next came a burning heat and impending hunger, an unfillable void. Tony was quick to get him to their jet a mile away, but as the engines revved up, a searing pain shot through his entire being, and then moments later...a a sweet release, no more pain.
“Tony, you know, I don't think they like loud noise...You’re right. The symbiote did want to get inside of me.” Stark shifted and gave peter a disapproving look. “No, all jokes aside, I would have made a more than suitable host, but the noise from the engines drove it out, its like...harmful to them.” Tony nodded slowly. “Makes plenty of sense kid, but listen if I don't sleep soon I’m sure ill literally die.” Peter nodded, studying his mentor and longtime friend. His eyes were glassy, his hands looked worn from many years of work and tinkering, and his face was hollow looking from a lack of sleep. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. You look like shit.” Tony’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Ugh... ‘Mr. Stark’? You haven't called me that since you were fifteen. Don't say that ever again.” They both laughed and then slowly fell into silence, both mulling over their thoughts.
“And will you be crashing here for a couple of hours, or sleeping on the rooftop of the abandoned building across Fifth Avenue?” Peter was yanked back to reality by the shock of his question, he stared blankly at Tony. “I know you sleep there every night, kiddo. But if you would just go and talk to her you wouldn't have to.” Peter thought seriously about these words. “Nah...It’s not safe yet, I don't know if that thing is coming back for me, I don't want to put her in danger. The time will come.” He rocked his head back, thinking of you, safe in your bed, curled up without him. “When exactly is that Pete? After she’s found another man?” Peter mulled over those words.
When she’s found another man...Maybe she’s safe in her bed in another mans arms...
But why wouldn't she move on? y/n was a beautiful woman, and every day that passed was a day Peter was teaching her to live without him. He closed his eyes because he felt tears begin to well up, the hurt and guilt ate away at him, but he couldn't let Tony see this, he already knew, he didn't need to see it as well. Tony stood up patting a hand on his shoulder. “You should go talk to May. Your strangely fine aunt might have some good advice.” Peter stood up and followed Tony into the foyer. The sun was peeking into the sky now and casting hues of beautiful mandarin, crimson red, and pink. “Oh what you talk to Aunt May now?” Peter joked. “Have been for a while” Tony turned around and winked. “Just kidding, but really go see your aunt. She used to talk to y/n all the time when you first moved to San Fran, now that you’re back she’ll be glad to see you...she’ll have a lot to fill you in on.”
Peter was confused as Tony spoke in riddles but he paid it no mind, he was too tired to care about anything except sleeping. Pulling his suit back on, he heard Tony holler over his shoulders “Night, kid.” This was amusing considering the early hour, but Peter and Tony didn't seem to have a set schedule for sleep these days. He swung out over the terrace and weaved between the buildings until he neared their familiar old apartment, the same one May swore shed never leave, not unless she got married. Peter climbed up the brick, and slipped into his old bedroom, scowling silently about the window being unlocked, but he decided not to fuss, May was expecting him. Slipping out of his suit and into his bed, Peter let himself rest for the first time in months, his thoughts drifting to you.
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The smell of bacon stirred peter from his sleep. He was sure he had dreamt of you. Soft remnants, a silky kiss you had placed over his lips, whispering something he wasn't able to remember. Sweet nothings. He pushed his eyes open fully now, fingers tracing his lips, they were hot and swollen, as if yours had actually been there. Looking at the clock next to him he realized he had slept an entire day, all the way into the next morning. Slowly stretching out of bed he gazed over at his dresser and saw a framed picture you had got for him one year on his birthday. A keen smile spread across his lips as he studied how wide your grin had been, and how genuine your laugh was, so genuine that your cute nose scrunched up and your eyes were closed tight.
I want to see you laugh like that again...
“Peter, are you awake?” He was jarred from his memories of you, walking over and pulling the bedroom door, he saw may looming in the kitchen in her oversized tee, and biker shorts, her hair was thrown back into a bun, and she was squelching and giggling as the grease popped at her. “Turn the heat down a little, May.” She whipped around and grinned wildly at him. “Peter, just look at you!” She carried on as she threw her arms around him, bantering about how much she’d missed him and why he didn't call more. Peter took his seat at the table, running his hands through his untamed curls. “I would have been back sooner, but I had to make sure it was safe.” May nodded understandingly, she knew all about what was going on, everything that had happened. “And how is y/n?” her tone became soft, peter knew this was because she already knew the answer: Not good.
“I don't know may...I haven't actually talked to her yet.” She curled her lip as she shook her head disapprovingly. “I raised you better than that...Sitting out on that damn abandoned building day and night, but you won’t go talk to her, let her know you’re alive and okay...it’s cruel Peter.” Her words were like daggers to him, piercing his heart, even though he knew they were marred with love and care. “How do you know I sit out there every day and night huh?” He questioned her, apparently she and Tony had been talking. “Happy told me.” Her answer was simple and it made Peter raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh did he now?” A childlike grin came over his face, as may shood him off. “Oh, that's none of your business. And in any case, stop changing the subject, you need to go see her Peter, it's not fair.” He shook his head. “Not yet May, it's not safe...” Peter was shocked when she threw the pan down into the sink with a loud thud and whipped around at him.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, you’re starting to sound like you dad. If it wasn't safe you wouldn't be here right now.” All that Peter could do was stare in shock. It had been such a long time since she had raised her voice at him. “You left her in the middle of the night, giving her a one-sentenced note. No texts, no calls, nothing to show for four years with that girl. She was over here every night for the longest time crying and wondering where you went, and I had to lie to her for you.” Peter’s heart fell at the image of you sitting at May’s kitchen table, crying as she rubbed your back and poured you tea. May was a true caregiver at heart. “Now its time for you to go tell her the truth. Forget your secret identity, forget the symbiotes. And just tell her the truth, Peter.” He knew she only told him for his own good, but he didn't even know how to begin to tell you the truth. “I don't know how to do it May! I can't just waltz up to her and say ‘Hey I’m Spiderman, yeah I lied to you about that for four years, oh also I ran away for a year because I had an alien lifeform trying to possess me and kill everyone.’ I mean, that just doesn’t work.”
May shot him a look, but he could tell she was attempting to be understanding. “Alright, Peter do what you think is best.” Peter sighed relief. He did plan on telling you, just in a way he knew you could process it. “But, don't come crying when she finally moves on. Better for her to know the truth than think you just don't give a damn, so she finds another man...MJ tells me a boy from her Criminology class really has the hots for her his name is Justin, James...? Something like that...rumor has it he’s not bad looking either.” Peter knew May was doing this on purpose, but all the same, he felt his face grew hot, he turned to get up and go shower. “Where you going, Pete?” She called out after him as he stormed out of the kitchen. “To take a shower and look presentable, if I’m going to talk to y/n I’m not going looking like this.” May smiled slyly to herself as he continued to grumble and slammed shut the bathroom door. He had always wondered if you had moved on and found another man, but hearing a name made everything real, and Peter would be damned if another man would be cozying up to his princess at night. All he could do is explain everything to you, lay all the truth out on the table, and hope you would forgive him. I need her forgiveness, but even more, I need to express my remorse.
Peter thought back to all the nights he laid alone in bed, tangled in cold sheets, missing you. Guilt shot from his chest and left a knot in his throat as he pondered how you must have felt in the same condition, not knowing or understanding a thing about why he had vanished. He let the steaming water pour over his skin as his thoughts raced, one lone word recurring in his mind.
Penitence.
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“Shit” You cursed under your breath as you tripped over absolutely nothing and sloshed coffee onto your white tee. Not that you were surprised because being a tad clumsy came to you naturally. Getting to class this morning had been a struggle. The universe seemed to be working against you, as it normally did when one was double majoring. You kept mulling over in your head your schedule for the day. Criminology at nine, lunch by twelve probably from Delmar's, probably on the go, next class by one-thirty, then ill go home and study, later to the grocery store...Internally planning was one way you kept your mind busy. And with everything you had going on, your thoughts had been able to stay away from Peter for the past week. You suddenly felt someone walking next to you and it caused your head to snap up, breaking your concentration, and causing you to drop the whole cup. “Fuck...” you cursed under your breath, glancing next to you.
Oh god, here we fucking go...
“Hey y/n. Need a hand?” Justin smiled at you slyly. Always with the sexual undertones, as if he wanted to eat you right there in the sidewalk. Disgusting. Just be nice maybe he’ll go away. “Hi Justin. How are you?” you forced out a greeting, bending down to pick up the paper cup, you could feel his eyes gazing at your backside. Refusing to meet his predatory eyes, you stood back up straight and continued to walk, throwing your hair over your shoulder. “Well, I’m better now.” You hoped you hadn’t visibly cringed. you crossed your arms over your chest defensively and attempted to scoot away from him, but he just closed the gap and wrapped his arm over your shoulder. You squirmed underneath him, internally screaming for him to let you go. “So when are you going to let me show you a good time?” He gazed down and winked at you, his piercing blue eyes were beautiful, but you preferred deep, chocolate brown ones, soft eyes, loving eyes. Not ones that were stripping you naked in their imagination. “Uhh...Ex-excuse me?” You glared up at him, squirming from under his shoulder. “You know, like let me take you to dinner or a movie.” You breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps a little too soon, because he stepped closer, moving a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear.
Boy, would peter had ripped his hand off if he had seen this...
“Or...you could come over to my place and we could drink some wine...you know watch a film indoors instead...” His voice trailed off and you could feel his breath. “Uh, that's not going to happen, Justin.” you pushed away from him, but low-and-behold he was right after your heels. “Why not, still waiting on Physics boy to move back?” His words stopped you dead in his tracks, you whirled around looking him directly in his handsome features, breathing ragged. “Don’t talk to me anymore.” was all you could choke out, before whipping around and leaving him standing alone, moving quickly towards the Criminal Justice department.
Your cheeks were brimming red, and his head was hot. He had no idea what you had been through. How dare he be so presumptuous. You pulled out your phone to text M.J. that you were there, just late. There was someone standing right in the doorway, you could tell from a distance, they were peering out the glass at you. Has this guy been watching me..? No that was absurd. He was probably just peering out at the sky. There had been a lot of rain this fall, and the vastness above you was scattered with dark clouds, threatening to open up and rain for the third time this week. The figure receded back into the hall as you got closer, and you swung the door open, thankful for the warm air on your cold hands. You rubbed them together, then peered around for M.J. She was probably already down the hall in the lecture. Before you could start to head that way, someone stepped in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.
Brown eyes. Those brown eyes you know so well. Boring into you, halting your whole world. Bringing it to a still. Freckles decoratively speckled a perfectly shaped nose, right above those gentle lips, the same lips you shared so many conversations with, swept with your own, talking in tongues, and groans, and grunts of passion. In less than a second, you took in his whole face, his entire appearance in your eyes. In your soul. The sun had kissed his skin for every one you weren't able to give him. Glowing and royal, strong and beautiful. He’s talking to you, but you can't hear a thing. Nothing. You forgot how to breathe. After all, your breath was his, every breath you drew you’d gladly gave away to him. He had just stolen yours away, like he had the last year of your life. Was he asking you if you were okay? Asking you to sit down and breathe? You were still unable to make sense of a single word out of his mouth. “What the fuck?” was the last phrase you could utter out before your knees gave out and you fell to your ass on the floor. Peter had caught you by the arm, pulling you back up into him, and carrying you into an empty study room off to the side, sitting you on a chair, kneeling in front of you. Still complete silence, all around you. Unable to hear a thing, only to see those beautiful lips moving.
Then he touched your face, and you started to gain back your focus. “This isn't real...” was all you could manage. “Yes it is, babe I’m right here.” You heard his voice. For the first time in over a year, you could hear him, crystal clear. Not just in dreams, or in voicemails he had left you that you were never able to dispose of. His actual voice, one that belonged to an angel.
My angel.
“You left me.” You were shaking violently. So many thoughts were bounding through your mind, but all you could say to peter was ‘you left me.’ And it said everything that needed to be said. Unable to mask all of your emotions, also unable to keep your hands off of his face. Feeling him, his features. You had longed to touch him for so long, wondered if he was still alive and okay, and now as your hands played over his cheeks, his jawline and nose, he was so real to you. So alive.
“I did...and I can’t fix what I did, but babygirl I can tell you why...I owe you that, well so much more than that princess...Let’s just get you home and I can explain everything, okay?” You shook your head slowly. “Wait but I have class? and M.J...” Peter put his hand to your lips and hushed your banter. “Shh its okay, y/n don't worry about class, MJ will be fine, this is very important. Just come home with me.” He stood up reaching for your hand, which you offered him willingly. Home. Our apartment that we shared together, he still considers me home. “Okay.” You nodded rapidly as Peter helped you stand, and guided you out the door, towards the apartment. The cold air hit you like a wall and thunder began to rumble slowly over the sky. But nothing mattered, because Peter was at your side, holding tightly your hand. Shock still ravaged your mind and body, but you would have all of your answers. Every night you laid and cried and wondered alone, you would finally have closure.
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#peter parker and y/n#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker fic#peter parker smut#marvel#mcu#Smut#angst#peter parker fluff#fluff#series
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steady, love (chapter 6)
Summary:
Martin is not doing well.
Jon is there with him through every step.
(because I became obsessed ™ with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)
Chapters 1-6 are up on ao3 under the same username!
(The EYE speaks in glitched text. Jon’s thoughts are italicized.)
WARNINGS: panic, illness, hospitals, medical talk
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)
This is a disaster.
Jon paces back and forth across the main floor, alternating between determinedly walking toward the front door and half-jogging back toward the stairs, panic driving his movements.
This is too much this is too much
He stops now, heart pounding, gripping his hair in both hands. Confusion floods all his senses, and he finds himself fighting tooth and nail just to put his thoughts in order.
I don’t know what to do I don’t know I don’t know
In the back of his mind, he knows it’s because he’s hungry. He knows it by the way he’s shaking, by the nausea threatening to choke him at any moment, by the simple fact that he can’t fucking think. Knees wobbling, he reaches out for the kitchen chair and props himself against it, forcing himself to take a few deep, steadying breaths. It barely helps, but it will have to do.
Okay.
Okay okay.
Think.
What are our options?
His mind travels back upstairs, where Martin is currently running a 39.9-degree fever, fully delirious and hallucinating. All morning, he had called out for Tim, for Sasha, for his mum—everyone who could never come to comfort him—with lungs churning endless congestion.
Jon knows he needs to get help, and fast.
But from where? Where can I take him?
There’s no phone service out here, and he doesn’t want to risk going all the way to the phone booth and leaving Martin behind. Frustrated, he resumes his rapid pacing.
Is there anywhere I can take him in the village?
Could I even get him in the car?
He is struck, suddenly, with an idea.
He calls upon the Eye to show him the village, to show him someone, anyone that could help—
The image of a clinic is pulled forth from his mind, and he Knows exactly how to get there.
Turning on his heel, he dashes up the stairs two at a time.
“Come on, Martin I—oof!”
Jon lists to the side as soon as he manages to half-lift Martin from the bed, overbalancing and nearly dragging them both to the floor. He barely manages to catch himself on the night table, one shaking arm propping them both up.
“Listen—Martin—can you hear me?” he pants.
Martin’s face remains blank, impossibly flushed. Jon shakes him roughly.
“Listen, Martin, please. I need you to help me. I can’t carry you on my own.”
Martin blinks sluggishly, and for a moment Jon is convinced he will be forced to either abandon this plan or compel him. But at last, something seems to break through, and Martin looks down at his own feet before shifting his weight away from Jon and onto his own legs.
“Good good good, Martin, good. Thank you, darling.”
As relieved as Jon is, Martin still looks shaky, and he knows they’ll have to move as quickly as possible if they’re going to make it to the car.
“Alright, love. One foot in front of the other then. That’s it. You’re doing so well, I’ve got you…”
For a Wednesday morning in a small village, the cramped waiting room of the clinic is quite crowded. Martin sits next to him on what must be the most uncomfortable chairs in existence, fiddling anxiously with his paper mask. The triage nurse had taken one look at him and ordered him to leave it on, in case he has the flu.
Around them sit many residents of the village, a few of whom Jon recognizes from the shop. The woman with the two young children who had stood next to him in the queue now sits at the opposite corner of the room, trying not to stare at the audibly crackling breaths coming from Jon’s left.
Abruptly, Martin leans forward, resting his hands on his knees, his breaths becoming increasingly rapid and shallow. Jon’s brow knits with concern.
T̲ͧr̻͕ͅi͙̥̲̍̌p͔̲͍̀̚o̠͙͑ͥ̽d̙̯ͯ̄ͣȋ̠̗̋̓n̩͇͒͛ġ̤:̑
T̋ẖē ̽͋ṵ͐s͖̗ḙ̬ͣ ̓͊͑o̞̿̌f̪ͭ̾̇ ̞̍͆̑t͉͉͇͊h̿̍̂͂r̮̮ͤ̾ͨê̦̹̇̚e̘̤ͦ͗͌ ̬ͩ̍̾ͪ̚p͙̖̑ͭͩ̆ó̺̝̬͒̈i͓̤͓͇͊̈n̫ͤ̃̒͐ͩṭ̜̭̥̅̒͋s̬̥̣ͩ͐̓̒ ̮͍͙̤ͭ̓̌ō̝̼̉̔͛̿f̹̙̺ͭ̆ͮ̾̀ ̞͈͍̽͑ͩ͗̍s̪̟̖̤͋̂ͩͅú̟̳͇̰ͧͦ̽p̫̘͔̎̒͊̆͒p̤̣̳̋̍̔̌̔o̖̲͗͒͛͑̿̑͐r͕̺̪̺͚̅͆̾̇t̯̠͌̿͐͋̒ͨͅ,̮͓̞͚̍̎ͫ̈́̚ ̫̰̹̘ͣ̑̅̔̾ö̙͎̭ͮ̂͐ͪ͌f̰̽͗ͤͥ̔͂͌̈́t̺̦̹̀̋͑ͬ̾̀e̠̩̳ͬͤ́̊ͥͫn̘͔̝̳̭̰ͤ̐̎̑ ̫͉͓͒ͨ͋͌̔̉̚i͖̗̘̪̬͗̿̃̌ͮn̫̰͆͆̄͊̉͋̾̐d͚͔̜͉̞̺͌ͭͤ͊i͙̦̜ͭͭͮͦͧͪ̏c̘̖̝̥̩͖̹͊̈́̈a͚͔̩͑ͪ́ͪ̅͌̏t̜̦͈̓̾̾͐̏͒̂i̫̦̲͗̓͆ͮ͋̒̀n̗̮̗͕̅͂ͨ̒͐̌g͉͕̥͎̪ͦ͗͒ͯͥ ̳̟̠͙̣̓̎̅ͅt͕̘̖ͯ̋̽ͦ̌ͅh͍̺̻̭̏ͥ͂ͬ̂ë̝̠͕̥͍́̐̒ͩ ̤̟͔̦͍̩ͧͯ̋p͎͔͈̮͛̓̔̽͆ȁ̟̻͉ͭͤ̾̓̿t̥͈̏͂̊̃͑ͨ͆ị̹̭̫ͮͨ͐̉͆ẽ̜̇̎͂̈͂͌n͖̱̭ͯͬ͋̀̈t̗͙̗̬͑͒ͥ͂ ͇͈͒͑ͥ͌̎͐i̲̩̲ͯ́ͨ̆̏s̰͓͇̭͉ͪ͑̌ ͖̯̜̦͑ͮ̆i̺̇̿̊ͥ̋ͯn̟̟̒ͬ̀̑̈ ̬͍͔͓̜̈́͒r̖̔̑̉͋ͅe͚̭̪͒̽̂s̯̥̅̓͑̒p̗̳̥̤͛̇i̼̲̿͗̽r̺̋͂ͨ̆a̟̝͚̰͑t̜ͤ̒̔̌ọ̬́ͣr͍̻̜̜ÿ͙́̌ͭ ̪̔ͬ͗d̗͎ͥi̟ͤ͒s̪̎̒t̖̝r͚̾é̟s̰s̲.̲
Shit.
“Martin? I-I’m going to get help.”
Jon strides quickly over to the triage desk, where the nurse looks up at him with a patient smile.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Jon is desperate.
“Please, I-I know you’re busy, I understand, but—he’s having trouble breathing, and I-I really think he needs help n̓ͦͭͨo̦̝̱̳͋̽w̪̞͔ͬ͌.̼”
He hadn’t meant to do it. Truly he hadn’t, but regardless the nurse is compelled to stand and follow him to where Martin sits. Jon tells himself every lie under the sun, anything to wash the awful taste of it from his mouth.
I needed to do it.
It’s fine.
I had to.
I had to.
Upon seeing Martin’s posture, her expression changes immediately. She kneels in front of him, resting a hand on his knee and trying to catch his eye.
“Mr. Blackwood? Can you hear me?”
Martin nods, still gasping for air. The other occupants of the waiting room are staring now, faces painted with expressions of concern.
“Can you walk back to this room with me? The one with the open door?” She points behind her at the first room down the narrow hallway.
Martin looks up briefly at this, considering for a moment before resuming his posture. Jon nearly bites through his lip with worry when he shakes his head.
“Alright, that’s alright. I’ll be back with a chair.”
Jon stands in the corner of the room, watching, much the same as when he walks in others’ dreams. This does feel a bit dream-like, come to think of it. Strangers in scrubs and white coats surround Martin where he sits on the bed, still leaning forward in that awful pose, desperate to draw in more air. Distantly, Jon realizes the sounds around him have faded, the people moving in silent blurs. His vision tunnels in on the monitor, reading out Martin’s vital signs in colored text.
Heart rate: T̘́ͬ̉ͅO̯̰͈̭̤ͥͨ͗Ŏ̺͈̖̹̓̓̈́ͫ͑̚ ͈̃ͣͮͩͩ͒ͩ͗͛͗̇H̘̰̫̓ͮͪ̂̌̆̏͛I̖̪͙̎́ͣ̈͛ͬG͓͉ͤ̔ͅH̟
Blood pressure: T̘́ͬ̉ͅO̯̰͈̭̤ͥͨ͗Ŏ̺͈̖̹̓̓̈́ͫ͑̚ ͈̃ͣͮͩͩ͒ͩ͗͛͗̇H̘̰̫̓ͮͪ̂̌̆̏͛I̖̪͙̎́ͣ̈͛ͬG͓͉ͤ̔ͅH̟
Oxygen saturation: T̜̖̱͗ͭȎ̖̬̥̉ͣ̎ͦO̼͇͎͈̊̑ͬ̔̀͆ ̪̼̪͉͇̀̓ͬ͛̎L̝͔̺̟ͦ̊̂ͅO͕ͦ̉̏̐W͈
Respiration rate: T̘́ͬ̉ͅO̯̰͈̭̤ͥͨ͗Ŏ̺͈̖̹̓̓̈́ͫ͑̚ ͈̃ͣͮͩͩ͒ͩ͗͛͗̇H̘̰̫̓ͮͪ̂̌̆̏͛I̖̪͙̎́ͣ̈͛ͬG͓͉ͤ̔ͅH̟
Temperature: B̦̗U̅̓̊̓R̘̲͓͊ͫͮN͕̝̣͇̗̈ͫ̒I̳̲͎͉͛̉̏̐͆N͚͓̫̳͇ͧ͐̉̂̋ͮG̘̳̲̲͊ͦ̀͒̊͌͑̚ ̱̮͖̯̺̣̓̂ͪͩ̅́ͅB̻͚͉̙͓̣ͩ̓̃͒ͫ͂ͣU̘̰̣̘͔̙̦ͬ̄ͦ̐̍̒̒R̗͍̞͙̯͖̻̰̔̈́͗̆ͪ̈N̯͚̙̪͔̦͖͔̅͋͂ͭ͒ͅḮ̠͕̮̜̻̤̮̰̈́ͪ͐͆̓N̤͙̘͗ͤ̑̏̊̈̇̅̓ͦ̓G͉͇̗̦̠͇̠͙ͪ̈̿̏̃ ̰̘̤͓̮ͣͭ͐̿̈́ͫ̓B̞̦͎̹̖̒̔̇ͮͤ͑U̮̰̗̹̯̯͌͆͑Ṟ͎ͩ͌́͒ͤ̓N̦̗̩̫͆ͬI̫̘̋ͮ̐N͇ͣ̊G͇
Someone is trying to speak to him.
“…alright? Sir?”
She has her hands on his upper arms, trying to draw his gaze. Jon feels as though he’s swimming upwards through molasses as he tries to answer.
“M’fine, jus…”
“Why don’t you sit down? Here, just here—”
Before he can process what has happened, Jon finds himself sitting in a chair undoubtedly meant for family. Most of the strangers have left now, leaving Martin clear in his view. Thankfully, he’s no longer braced forward, instead leaning back against a mountain of pillows, an oxygen mask fitted tightly over his nose and mouth. Jon looks back up at the numbers on the monitor anxiously.
Oxygen saturation: 98%
Breathing a sigh of relief, he leans back in the chair and closes his eyes.
You’ll be the death of me.
A muffled sound of distress grabs his attention after a moment. Eyes snapping open, he brings his gaze back to Martin, and his heart sinks.
Martin’s hands clutch at the sheets covering him as hot tears spill over his cheeks, their natural path impeded by the plastic mask. His face is anguished and flushed, and Jon can sense the heat rolling off him from where he sits. Alarmed and upset, Jon moves his chair closer to Martin’s left side, prying his hand from the sheets and gripping it tightly in both of his own.
“Martin, it’s me. It’s Jon. You’re alright, darling, you’re safe, I promise,” Jon soothes, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.
4̩̥̫͋0̹̱͓̻ͥ̐.̦͖̗̔͑̈1̼̳̒͐.̓
Christ.
Martin opens his eyes halfway, just enough to stare down to where Jon still holds his left hand. He’s desperately trying to slow his breathing, even with the crackling shallowness his lungs offer him.
“Are you in pain?” Jon questions lowly.
He lifts his right hand weakly, rocking it back and forth, as if to say “sort of.”
Jon exhales sharply, worrying at his lower lip for a moment.
“Are you frightened?”
At this, Martin nods slowly, sobs beginning anew.
Oh, dear.
Jon shifts closer to Martin’s side, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his sweltering forehead. Whispered words of comfort flow from him, carding his fingers through damp curls as he soothes Martin’s fever-soaked cries.
Nearly thirty minutes later, there’s a sharp knock at the door.
“Martin Blackwood?”
The man poking his head through the door reminds Jon immediately of Tim, with his upbeat energy and well-groomed beard. The similarity is only confirmed when he steps through, revealing a pair of designer shoes only a fashion enthusiast could love.
At his entrance, Martin’s eyes fly wide open, and he struggles to sit up at attention. Brows furrowing, Jon gently pushes his shoulder back onto the pillows. The doctor begins speaking then, his charismatic voice ringing through the small room.
“I’m Aaron, and I’ll be your doctor today. Glad to see you’ve got your oxygen mask on, there. Quickly, before we begin—would you mind confirming, am I correct in using he/him pronouns for you?”
Martin’s eyebrows shoot up in shock for a moment at this, before his expression melts, and he nods. Jon is half-certain he can see a small smile forming under the fogged-up oxygen mask, and squeezes his hand in encouragement.
“Excellent! And who might you be?” he booms, extending a hand toward Jon with a kind smile.
“Err…” Jon fumbles to release his hand from Martin’s momentarily, wiping it quickly on his pant leg before grasping Aaron’s.
“Jonathan. Jon. Err, I’m Martin’s…” he trails off, glancing over at Martin as if for confirmation. “Boyfriend.”
The word sounds so strange on his lips that he can’t help the way his tone curls up at the ends.
“Pleased to meet you, Jon. Now, Mr. Blackwood, I understand you’ve been having some difficulty breathing. I’d like to take a listen, if you don’t mind,” he says, pulling his stethoscope from where it hangs around his neck.
Martin nods at this, and the doctor places the bell of the stethoscope over his lower ribs.
“Deep breath, if you can.”
Martin obliges, to the best of his ability. Moving the bell to the other side, he repeats the request, before asking him to lean forward and listen at his back. Martin’s shoulders shake with effort now, and Jon winces, knowing he’s trying his best to please, even if it hurts.
On the fourth repeat, Martin can no longer refrain, bursting into a fit of deep, gurgling hacks and lifting the mask from his face.
“Ooh, sorry about that,” the Aaron murmurs with knitted brows, gripping Martin’s shoulder and pulling him forward.
Opposite him, Jon mirrors the movement, pulling at his other shoulder while rubbing slow circles on his back. For half a minute the fit continues, before mercifully allowing Martin a moment to gasp for air. His lungs still crackle wetly as he does.
“Dear oh dear. That doesn’t sound pleasant at all,” remarks Aaron, still cheery.
Martin does his best to reward his cheeriness with a smile, leaning back against the pillows again as Aaron repositions the oxygen mask on his face.
Aaron continues, placing his hands on his hips.
“Well, first thing’s first. I highly suspect you’ve got pneumonia, which I’m sure is no shock to you. We’re going to need a chest x-ray just to make sure. That okay with you?”
Martin nods.
“Excellent! I’ll send them right in for that, and I’ll be back as quick as I can to talk about the results. Sound good?”
Another weak smile visible beneath the mask, Martin lifts his right hand to give a thumbs up.
“Righto!” Aaron replies with a wide grin before stepping out the door, closing it behind him.
Martin’s hand drops back to his side at once.
Leaning his elbow on the side of the bed, Jon offers Martin a cheerful smile.
“Well, he was very nice. I’m quite pleasantly surprised.”
Martin does not seem to hear him, instead staring listlessly at the door, his energy utterly spent. Jon’s smile fades as quickly as it came, and he takes Martin’s hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs gently over his knuckles.
A few moments pass before Martin’s chest begins to convulse alarmingly.
“Shit. Here, here, lean forward, lean forward—”
Jon pulls him up immediately, head lolling toward his chest, and pounds the heel of his hand into Martin’s lower ribs.
The coughs that result are that of a drowning man, impossibly deep and choking and exhausted. Jon’s eyes sting as worry burrows into his heart, his chest aching as several minutes go by without respite. He’s come to realize that he is helpless—all he can do is rub at Martin’s back and pray to whatever benevolent being might be listening.
At long last, the fit subsides, and Martin is mercifully able to take a deeper, stabilizing breaths. Glancing up at the monitor, Jon is pleased to see his oxygen saturation steadily climbing as he breathes through the mask.
“That’s it, darling. You’re alright.”
His eyes begin to droop soon after, and Jon guides him gently back to his propped-up position, brushing the fringe from his face and cupping his scorching cheek. Astonishingly, Martin finds the strength to reward him with a smile and a weak thumbs-up.
Joy floods Jon’s heart, pulling both laughter and relieved tears from him.
You idiot. I love you.
Jon strokes Martin’s arm gently as he drifts off, watching his chest rise and fall with deepening sleep.
#tma#tma fic#tma sickfic#sickfic#jonmartin#tw illness#tw panic#sorry for the medical detail#i am a med student and it simply can't be helped lol#my writing
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heyyy, hope you’re having a good night!! if you have the energy and feel okay answering, what’s up w taz graduation? i haven’t checked it out yet but i was thinking ab it. just asking bc you’re the first person i saw talk ab the show having serious issues, but also feel free to not answer this!! hope you have a good week!
i took a nice hot bath, had a strawberry kiwi capri-sun, and did a nice face mask and i’m feeling pretty good - so, y’know what anon? let’s talk about it.
for anyone who likes taz grad who sees this post: it’ll be tagged with “taz grad hate” (although i feel hate is definitely a very strong word - it’s for the simplicity of tagging it) - so please block the tag if you don’t want to see this post (especially because i put a readmore on a post before and it didn’t show up on mobile and instead gave the full post). mobile tumblr has a tag blocking system, so please feel free to use it! i don’t mind haha
anyway, so this is... probably going to be a lost post, and i wanna go ahead and preface it: this absolutely isn’t any hate on the mcelroys themselves. i love the brothers and their dad a lot, and while i doubt any of them would ever see this (or have it sent to them, or shown to them, because im pretty sure they try to distance themselves from this sort of thing), i just want to make it clear that criticizing a product is different than bashing a person. which brings me to the point of if i do end up sounding as if im bashing someone - please call me out on it! it’s not my intention to target anyone.
with that said, let’s talk about this campaign.
so my problems are as thus: the railroading, the shipping (a fandom problem, but it’s present in the podcast), the NPCs, and some misc problems others have addressed better than i have.
which. i know. that’s basically the entire podcast. (i promise i’ll bring up some positive points to balance it all out). keep in mind i’ve only personally listened to... what, six episodes? and it was enough for me to drop it. some people dropped it first ep, some dropped it ep four, and others are still forcing themselves to listen.
the railroading
there was a time i could handle travis and his railroading [making sure the story goes exactly the way he has planned], because it was the very beginning of the podcast and that’s what you can kind of expect from a plot-heavy podcast. hell, i wouldn’t mind it if the interactions and goofs weren’t a huge part of why i listen to TAZ in particular (which, by the way, is why amnesty still stuck out to me - even if there was a direction griffin wanted to push them towards, the interactions between the players (or players and npcs) made up for any railroading). it’s kind of hard to not railroad a little when it’s story-heavy and you’re trying to built up a world that you’ve put a lot of thought into. however, a huge part of d&d is the spontaneity.
it’s kind of why i think balance was so popular. while there was railroading towards the end, there was the presence of improv that made it all good. most mcelroy content is enjoyed because of the goofs. the magic brian moment is memorable. the jenkin’s fight still stands out because it was funny (albeit a result of some bad rolls). the boys teasing angus sticks out because the four would play well off of each other. even without that - griffin had talked about how he had to roll with things (the fact he had planned for a fight atop the train, but ditched the idea for what his family members came up with instead). even in amnesty, a couple moments that stick out to me still are ned with the jetpack taking out a pizza hut sign, and the scene with the water where jake was trapped inside. they aren’t as fun, but they still stand out as “things i didnt expect to really end the way they did.”
with grad, it’s just. one after another. the thundermen want to subpoena a xorn? cool, let’s run with that until actually the xorn gets fed rocks and goes home and who cares about the subpoena now. fitzroy wants to keep his cloak? lets talk about it for a while and you also get no rolls to even try to keep it. fitzroy goes to meet higglemas in his office? oh, why are you here fitzroy? im going to keep asking you until you answer fitzroy? you arent getting out of this scene until you answer me, fitzroy, so just tell me why you’re here already, alright, fitzroy?
and even later in a episode i read a transcript of: hey argo, remember how you have this whole secret motivation? fuck you, im gonna talk about it here in your dream and reveal it to listeners and remove any tension you had building up, and you dont get a choice to talk about it because this all-knowing villain knows all about it :)
and even NOW in the latest episode, there’s a comment that “we should cap argo’s skills here” instead of just... making the checks higher. rogues are good at certain things and usually arent the best in battles. better hope argo never makes it to level 11, because who knows how people are gonna handle the fact that he gets a skill that’ll make it so certain skills can’t have a roll below 10 (reliable talent).
(griffin, thankfully, calls travis out for that, but still - travis, why would you even imply that, considering you should be aware of how rogues work considering magnus multiclassed into rogue and you played one on tiny heist?)
and in the newest episode, their Big Bad chaos (which, god, i personally hate that name) straight-out says “dont do this” to the thundermen. travis tries to say, on twitter, “a character saying “dont do this” is different than me saying it” but i need to point out that it’s one thing if you’ve said “no” in character but worked with the PCs doing otherwise, but the railroading says differently.
the shipping
ill try to make this quick, because it’s nothing to do with the fandom (ship however you want, man) - but i really feel the need to draw attention to this.
fitzroy, as confirmed by griffin in a ttazz episode, is asexual. not aroace, but ace nonetheless. and i find it... troublesome that the idea of rainer and fitzroy having a relationship is still pushed nonetheless, despite the fact that fitzroy (to my knowledge) was never once shown to reciprocate any feelings. not to be that person, but i really hope that grad doesnt have any sort of romantic relationships in it (at least - not between NPCs and PCs unless they’re actually like... warranted?).
i dont know, man. one of my closest friends is ace, and i know she wants a relationship, but i think it would reassure her a lot to see an ace character who isn’t pushed into one in case she ever changes her mind. someone once mentioned that they hope fi/tz/ra/in doesnt happen because theres relationships that have that “oh, you can just date” and it goes upwards there to “oh, you can have sex just to please them <3″ (which, to be honest, is kind of a gross mindset - if someone isnt interested, they arent interested).
also, uh, the TTAZZ where griffin states this, there’s kind of the mention tht the whole sexuality question was posed in relation to the episode “creative thinking” (the dream one i mentioned earlier) - which. uh. i don’t know if anyone caught this, but... rainer straight-up wrote fitzroy a letter in the dream like “are you going to accept my proposal? a girl doesn’t like to be left waiting” which. leaves me with some gross feelings because uh.
if... if the whole thing about fitzroys sexual orientation was addressed here, then why would you push your ship anyway? feels kinda iffy, man.
to which i want to say: fitzroy can date. he’s allowed to date. griffins allowed to do whatever he wants with his character. but when a lot of the flirting is met with nothing, i’m not gonna see the chemistry there. just because travis ships it doesn’t mean it’s canon.
the npcs
ah yes. lets talk about the npcs.
there’s... a lot. a lot a lot. i think travis trimmed down how many were present in a scene, but uh. there’s still a lot. and... uh... i kinda wish there wasn’t?
look, i know im going back to balance/amnesty, but just. hang in there for a moment. chill with me. vibe.
balance didnt have too many NPCs present at all times in each mini-arc. gerblins had some big names like barry, klarg, gundren, killian, yeemick, and magic brian. rockport limited had angus, jess, graham the juicy wizard jenkins, and all of the tom bodetts mentioned.
amnestys first arc had mama, barclay, jake, dani, pigeon, kirby, minerva, and that was about it for like. big names? and not all of them were present in each scene.
in the first episode of grad alone: gary, hernandez, jimson, rolandus, zana, rhodes, buckminster eden, rainer, leon, tomas, hieronymous, higglemas, stuart, jackle, bartholomeus, mulligan, groundsy, germaine/victoria/rattles (the skeleton crew). and those are the ones i wrote down (minus groundsy, who i just. ignores. idk him).
like holy shit, my english prof got onto me for having too many characters in my first chapter and i didnt even have half the amount listed there!
it’s just a huge cast. does this take place in a school? yes! theres bound to be a lot of students present - but you don’t have to name every single one of them, at least not in the first episode!
the miscellaneous
i don’t know if travis ever actually addressed it, but wheelchair users have actually like... said that rainer’s introduction bothered them, because she was like “please ask me abt my wheelchair :)” when travis saying she was in an ornate chair would have sufficed.
uh. the colonization vibes people have discussed within the centaur arc. mentioned here, the replies here, and this post (and its replies) here as well.
the overall lack of d&d when the campaign was kind of advertised as a return to d&d if i remember correctly
also no one seems to be taking literally any criticism at all which like. ignoring the petty shit, sure, but people have stopped donating to taz and their listener-ship must have dropped some during this entire time - you’d think that maybe someone could say “we need to find out why people dont like the thing and fix the thing” consider this is. yknow. their livelihood.
anyway uhhh
tl;dr: travis railroads way too much (even now), the shipping in-game has become pushy and gross (especially bc its shoving a relationship onto an asexual character), theres too many npcs that dont stand out well enough, and no ones taking any criticism about the major issues with grad.
#taz grad hate#taz graduation hate#Anonymous#ok im gonna go to sleep now goodnight#maybe ill wake up to hate tbh that'll be wild
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Suicide Bones
Sterek drabble about being overwhelemed to the point of breaking, and the ‘Maybe We Can Make It Out.’
Trigger warnings: Suicidal thoughts/ actions, depression, anxiety, ADHD/ADD, death, body horror.
His mother sometimes said he was a the wrong size skeleton inside his flesh suit, to which his father warned that ‘this is going to shape his sense of humor in weird ways.’ He was right, obviously, but so was she.
Stiles never fits in his skin.
He‘a too long, too weird, too wild. He jumps from too high, digs in the dirt, sings too loudly, and knows entirely too much about everything before he was ten years old. Sometimes, late at night when his brain refuses to shut up, he bends his knees as far as he can just to watch his skin stretch over his bones. Sometimes he wants it to rip open, so he could be free. To be fully himself, and not feel smothered all the time. But it doesn’t, and he goes back to listing the elements of the periodic table until he falls asleep.
It isn’t until his mom is buried deep in the dirt he used to play in that he realizes there is one sure-fire way he can escape the flesh. One absolute in life that could solve all his misfit problems. The only issue is that he has people that need him to stay. They need his bones encased in skin and muscle, tendons and fat. They need his bad singing voice, and his endless curiosity. It keeps his dad going, it keeps Scott safe, it keeps his teachers happy, it makes the barista smile, it keeps his neighbor’s garden watered.
So grit your teeth and stay, Stiles. Ignore the growing pains and all the wrong, wrong, wrong.
He throws himself into helping. He pushes his face right into the snarling, rabid face of death and smirks. Stiles fights his instincts every day, to force that stupid fight or flight to land firmly on fight every time. Every time. He can’t back down, he can’t stop. He has to help. That’s his purpose. That’s who he is: Ill-fitted bones and sarcastic remarks. But, god, he will fucking help you.
He will, and he does.
He thinks he does?
“I don’t need your help, Stiles!”
“I think you do, wolf-boy,” he sneers, flicking the map stretched across the table in front of them. Derek outright snarls, which means he’s either about to give in or throw Stiles out on his ass.
“I know you have some sort of issue with your self-worth,” Derek begins, voice not at all soft.
Stiles narrows his eyes, daring him to continue. “It’s funny how this didn’t come up when you needed me to use mountain ash.”
“Because that’s when you were useful!”
Stiles rolls his eyes back as well as his head. The ceiling is dark and stained with old factory grease. He wonders, for a brief second, why Derek resides in these kinds of places. They’re like prisons, where he’s guarding himself.
“I can help you find Erica and Boyd,” he says at last, drawing his attention back to Derek. “I know this town better than anyone.”
Derek‘s voice grows quiet, “my family founded this town.”
“And a lot has changed since then. I know it how it is now.”
Whatever fight was in him seems to fade to the usual rumbling discontent that’s always present as Derek looks over the map again. See, this is why Stiles volunteered to help him find them. He doesn’t even like Isaac, Erica went mean, Boyd barely acknowledged him, and he and Derek have a very low tolerance for one another. But right now, Derek’s stupidly pretty eyes are looking at buildings he doesn’t know and new streets, and showing how hopeless he’s really feeling. Derek doesn’t think they’ll find them.
“Okay,” Derek says at last. In his heart, Stiles believes they will. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he’s helping. His bones, though. They already ache with the loss.
Stiles scrunches up his nose, and points to a potential area on the map. He’s ignoring his bones, for now.
“Okay.”
*
It’s not when Scott hurts him—not the first time, no, but the worst time—that he realizes things have changed. It’s not when Derek-STUPID–Hale has another plan fall through that would have worked if he had just listened to Stiles. It’s not when some other creature is riding his bones and damaging him and everyone around him for fun. No, it’s not even when an awful lot of his friends die. It’s much later, when they save that stupid stump, save Scott, save the town, save everyone they can. It’s not until Derek leaves and comes back all soft-looking, and god his anger issues weren’t as hot as he thought because that fucking sweater—
It’s then that he realizes that everyone has grown up from needing him. Scott’s doing his own thing now, and hasn’t called for Stiles to go over his homework or love letter or help deal with a monster in months. His dad has been dating, actually dating, and isn’t home as often as he used to be. He doesn’t call up to check on Stiles twice a day, or demand Stiles give him an idea of his whereabouts as often as he used to. His teachers—well, they (mostly) know he’ll be fine in college. He went through hell and still got A’s. The neighbor moved during the first wave of wolfy-like problems. That barista, well, she was killed two years ago. One of the ones they couldn’t save.
And Derek? He’s so much better. Really, he’s better. He went out and healed, and now he’s building something for himself in the town his family founded and died in like it’s just fine and normal and—
Stiles stretches, feels his scars ache. His bones pop and protest inside him. Soon now. Soon, he promises them.
Because no one needs him anymore, and he’s built up a value based on that need. Now it’s all useless facts at one am and tired—so tired—promises to himself to find a vocation where all that he is will be applicable. Where he can weather the aches and misshapen bones because it will be worth it, again. But there’s nothing. College seems pointless, busy work and knowledge he’s already long since devoured. A job—where? He’s such a mess he doesn’t trust himself to cook at home anymore, never mind providing food or service to other people. Will he break down and cry at the first rude customer? Will he hallucinate his way through a shift at Home Depot? When will they notice? When will they see that he’s a skeleton of what he used to be?
When will they see he isn’t a person anymore?
Soon, he mutters to his bones. Soon.
*
“Have you talked to anyone?” Is the first thing he says when he finds Stiles sitting on the stump with a bottle of whiskey stolen from his dad’s dusty liquor cabinet.
Derek, looking settled and grounded in ways Stiles hasn’t seen since he was nine or ten years old. Those few times he ran into the younger Hales in town before most of them died. Derek, his eyes actually honest on the first try instead of the second, third, or fourth.
Honestly worried.
“Talk to who?” Stiles slurs, cracking an easy smile that sends pain all the way through him.
“Someone,” Derek replies as he sits down next to him. “Anyone.”
“Why should I? Why?”
Derek stares at him without answering. Stiles wants to push his face closer, jut his jaw out and fight.
“Why, Derek?” He challenges, not looking away.
“Because... it helped me,” he says, sounding sure and steady. “Because I was just pushing myself through whatever shitty thing happened next and never looking back unless I needed the anger to fuel me.”
Stiles lets out a shaky breath and looks away. He can’t say anything now, not like that.
“It’s not easy, either,” Derek continues, calmer than Stiles has ever heard him. “I clammed up a lot; lashed out even more. I hated everything and everyone more and more until I wanted to kill random strangers I saw on the street with no provocation.”
Stiles raises a brow to himself, because yeah, that’s a bit different than the Derek who kind of died to save everyone more than a few times. But maybe not so different than how he’s feeling right now. Derek lets out a huff of a laugh, and Stiles feels something hard and bitter inside him start to melt. Just a little.
“More than that, though, I just wanted to die. I wanted god or whoever to kill me already, and stop pushing me to do it myself. Put the blood on their hands for once, not mine.”
Stiles pulls his lower lip between his teeth and bites down. He’s not going to talk. He won’t.
“But it never happened. And stupid shit keeps happening, but...” Derek trails off for a moment, “But I can handle it a little better now. I can drop my mom’s favorite cup and it sucks—it still sucks—but it’s not the last straw anymore. It doesn’t make me want to claw my throat out, or scream until I lose my voice.”
Stiles hiccups quietly and tries to cover it up by taking a swig from the bottle. He refuses to look at the asshole opening up next to him. He can’t do this, he’s too tired. He can’t open up again and spend the time, and effort, and love it takes to matter to someone and be dropped like he’s nothing. Not again. Please, not again.
“I’m not telling you this because I think we’re exactly the same,” Derek continues, sounding less solid and more sad now. “I know we’ve lived different lives and lost in different ways. It’s going to be different no matter what, I’ve found out.”
“Why?” Stiles croaks out.
“You know why.”
Stiles glares into the surrounding trees and hates himself a little bit more for rising to the bait. Of course he fucking knows why, but it doesn’t matter.
“It doesn’t matter,” he mutters out loud. “None of it does.”
“Why not?” Derek asks quietly.
Stiles gestures broadly to their surroundings, to the giant stump they’re sitting on, to himself. He can’t find the words, really, to sum up everything that’s led him here. There’s too much bad, and not enough good. Too much bad, too fast and too often. Too much everything.
“That’s not an answer,” Derek says, and Stiles finally turns to glare at him.
“Not everything is so fucking literal,” he snaps.
Derek shrugs it off. “Sometimes it is.”
“Then tell me what makes it worth it, okay? Tell me why dropping my mom’s favorite cup after most of her stuff got destroyed is shitty, but it’s fine,” he spits, his insides burning. “I should just be fine about all this shit and smile through it.”
Derek shakes his head, and says, “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“Then what?”
“You don’t have to smile, Stiles. You don’t have to be fine. You can be upset and hurting, or angry... I’m still angry, you know?” Derek smiles ruefully and looks away again. “but I needed to talk about it all to realize what was external and what was internal. I didn’t even think about what I could fix versus what I couldn’t. I didn’t know there even was stuff I could fix.”
Stiles keeps glaring, but that hard part of him is melting out his eyes and nose now. He hates that. He hates crying because it doesn’t do anything for him. It never did any good.
Derek doesn’t seem to mind that he’s dribbling all over himself now, or that he’s still not opening up. Stiles doesn’t know what that means, or what he’s supposed to do now.
“Find a therapist,” Derek says, turning back to him with a soft smile. “And remember not to feel guilty for unloading on them. They’re being paid for that.”
“I d-don’t know if I can afford that,” Stiles chokes out, half laughing, half crying. What a fucking mess.
“I could cover it?” Derek offers tentatively, almost as if he knows Stiles will refuse.
But.
But maybe he won’t. Not this time. Not when he’s this close to cutting his awkward, aching bones out to be free.
“O-okay,” he sniffles, wiping his nose on the end of his sleeve. “I’m t-tired, though.”
“Yeah,” Derek says, and reaches a hand out. Stiles takes it. He doesn’t know what else to do. “Yeah, I know. Put some of that weight on someone else for a little while. See if it helps.”
Stiles looks at their hands, linked there between them like that’s normal and fine. “What if it doesn’t?”
“Then we come back here and brainstorm some more.”
Stiles watches at Derek’s thumb brushes over his hand. It should probably be huge, but for now it’s just fine. “Y-yeah?”
“It’s what we’re good at,” Derek replies. He smiles at him. “Okay?”
Stiles hesitates. His bones say he won’t make it. They’ll end up here again, messier and more misshaped. But he’s tired and someone is finally noticing. Someone is looking and seeing that he’s being crushed under the weight of everything. His heart, though. His heart says maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
*
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Call: 1-800-273-8255
Or Text HELLO to 741741 for the crisis text line.
#Sterek#Depression#Teen Wolf#stiles stilinski#Derek Hale#drabble#tw: body horror#Tw: Suicidal thoughts#tw: Depression
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28 with Lup & Lucretia, please!! :')
28: “Girls night in?”
Word count: 1,817
Warnings: Death mention, survivor’s guilt, grief, alcohol (y’know, normal Stolen Century shenanigans)
Summary: In which Lucretia has had a difficult few years and Lup is determined not to let her be sad all by herself.
Send me more of these?
__________________________________
It had been…a rough couple of cycles.
Two years ago, Davenport and Barry and Lup had all been killed in a negotiation for the light gone very poorly. Taako and Magnus stormed in the next day and took the light by force. “Should have just let them all die, those assholes,” Taako muttered that night as they fled the city to hide out in a remote forest until the year was over. Merle gently reminded him that not everyone on the plane was such an asshole and they did not deserve to die just because some of their leaders were terrible. Lucretia sat in the corner quietly, hiding the tears that dripped down her cheeks by letting her hair fall in front of her face.
In the next cycle, the light had been relatively easy to find. Lucretia had left most of the team on the Starblaster to do their research, and had taken Magnus with her on a months-long voyage through the culturally rich civilization. She had befriended their guides, a couple of kindly tieflings, and had been truly enjoying the journey when they were attacked by bandits. Both of the tieflings and Magnus were killed. Lucretia returned to the ship alone. She had a hard time writing anything down the rest of the year–it was too difficult to see the pages past the blur of her tears.
Nobody had died so far this cycle, but Lucretia was tired of being on such high alert. She was tired of spending her time grieving because every new person she met would be gone forever from her life within a year. Becoming even more quiet around her family, Lucretia withdrew from everything and tried to sketch every person she remembered meeting from the past five years. Two of those cycles, they had failed to get the light. Most of the people Lucretia was drawing were dead.
One evening, there was a knock at her door. “Do you need something?” Lucretia called distractedly. She couldn’t remember if the child she was sketching from one of the failed cycles was an elf or a human. How could she not remember something like that? All she could recall was that he had a freckle on the tip of his nose and he wore a purple stone on a string around his neck.
“Luuuuucy. Can I come in?” It was Lup. She didn’t sound urgent, but she did sound determined. And when Lup was determined, there was no point in trying to resist.
“Alright.” Lucretia closed her sketchbook as Lup bounded into the room.
“Listen, Luce, you know I love you to pieces, right? So please don’t get snippy when I tell you that you absolutely gotta stop hiding in your room all the time. It’s not healthy, babes,” Lup told her. “I know you’re an introvert, but this isn’t that. You’ve been avoiding us.”
Straight to the point then. I should have expected that. Keeping her expression neutral, Lucretia said, “I haven’t been avoiding anyone. I’ve just been busy with my work.”
“Your work, huh? Can I see it?” Lup hopped up to sit on Lucretia’s desk. She didn’t look like she had any intention of moving anytime soon.
Lucretia didn’t really want to explain what she had been doing. Lup might not understand why she needed to do this; and besides, Lucretia had a feeling that she would start to cry if she tried to talk about it. And she was just so tired of crying. She said nothing. However, she didn’t stop Lup from taking the sketchbook from her hands and flipping through the pages.
“These are nice,” Lup said softly. “Are these people you met during the cycles, Luce?”
Clearing her throat, Lucretia nodded.
“Who was this?” asked Lup. She pointed to a sketch of an older elf woman wearing a scarf on her head.
“I don’t know. I never asked her name. She was at a church I visited three cycles ago. She took care of the children who had been orphaned because of the illness that year.”
Lup’s ears positioned themselves slightly downwards as she frowned. “We didn’t get the light that cycle.”
“I know.”
There was a minute of silence as Lup turned more pages. Lucretia heard a quiet sniff when Lup saw the sketch of the young boy that wasn’t quite finished yet. Placing the sketchbook down carefully on the desk, Lup wiped her eyes and reached out to tilt Lucretia’s chin up. “You’re right, you have been busy,” she allowed. “That’s important stuff.”
“I don’t want us to forget them,” Lucretia stated simply.
“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. But, Lucy. You can’t isolate yourself, okay? Even if you’re sad, even if you’re having a hard time. Actually, especially if you’re having a hard time.” Lup smiled sadly. “Okay?”
Lucretia looked down at her hands and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, um, how’s this? I’m not gonna let you isolate yourself anymore,” Lup let her know. “We’re all hanging out tonight, I’m taking you out to the common room to have dinner and a fun night together.”
With a weary sigh, Lucretia said, “I’m sorry, Lup, I’m just…not up for that.”
Lup nodded thoughtfully. “Gotcha. Okay. I know exactly what we’re gonna do, then.”
“And what’s that?” Lucretia said.
“Well, if you’re okay with it, which I think you will be.”
“Lup.”
“Girls night in?” suggested Lup. “C'mon, just you and me, chillin’ in here and talking and hanging out. We can do whatever you want. I’ll make Koko bring us snacks and drinks.” She gave Lucretia a winning smile. “Whaddya say?”
“I say, I probably don’t have a choice in the matter,” Lucretia said, pretending to give in grudgingly. But really, that didn’t sound too bad. Lup could be loud and rambunctious when she wanted to be, but she was just as capable of being quiet and understanding, and she seemed to know instinctively when a person needed each type of affection.
“That’s my girl,” Lup said happily. She patted Lucretia’s cheek. “Now, I’m gonna be right back. Put on some PJs.”
Lucretia obliged, and put on her most comfortable pajamas of a t-shirt and flannel pants while she waited for Lup to return.
“You decent?” Lup barely waited for the answer before she walked right in, wearing a tank top and shorts and carrying several blankets and multiple bags of candy and chips.
“I try not to have food in my bedroom,” Lucretia said helplessly.
“I’ll clean up any mess, I promise. Now, I sent Taako to bring us hot chocolate and wine, ‘cause I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what kinda night we’re gonna be having. But uh, both? Both sounds good.” Lup was already setting up a blanket fort on Lucretia’s bed. “And I told him that he’s not allowed to have any, 'cause it’s girls night. I said that if he’s lonely without me, he can go cuddle up with Magnus. He flipped me off, but he is getting those drinks, so I think we’re good.”
Lucretia couldn’t help but smile as Lup chattered. She had to admit, the company was nice. She didn’t feel as trapped inside her memories anymore. And when Taako knocked on the door, saying that he was leaving the drinks outside and that he hoped Lucretia knew that he was definitely, absolutely furious that she was hogging Lup for the night, he was laughing the whole time and ended the speech with a “Have fun, you two,” so Lucretia figured that he wasn’t actually angry.
Lup pulled her into the blanket fort and handed her a hot chocolate. “We’ll switch to wine later. So…wanna talk about anything?”
“I…” Lucretia shook her head. She drank some of her hot chocolate. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, babes, anything?”
“I’m just, um, tired,” Lucretia admitted.
Lup flicked her ears. “Would you rather just go to sleep?”
“No, I meant…in general. I’m just tired. I feel like I can’t stop moving. I’m not…caught up with the rest of you, if that makes sense? I’m still stuck somewhere behind everyone else. It’s why I’m trying to draw everyone, because…if I can record everything that’s happened so far, I might be able to keep moving.”
Lup hummed understandingly. She gave Lucretia’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I get it, honey. I’ve had that feeling some cycles, too. It’s not easy to just keep leaving everyone behind, huh?”
“No. No, it’s not easy,” said Lucretia. “And it’s exhausting.”
“It definitely is that,” Lup replied. She paused for a second, then reached for the bottle of wine. “Time to switch drinks, I think. Hey, Luce? Get your sketchbook. We’re gonna sit and remember everyone we left behind and toast to them until we feel better.”
Lucretia didn’t argue with that.
A few hours later, they had gone through every single page in the sketchbook. Lup even remembered the names of a few more of the people in the drawings, and Lucretia penciled them in. Both of them were crying a little by the end. Lucretia decided that she didn’t want any more wine and curled up against Lup’s side with her sketchbook clutched to her chest.
“I’ve gotcha.” Lup sniffled. “Are you, um, feeling better?”
That’s a complicated question. “I think I will be,” she murmured. “I don’t feel…great, right now, but I do feel…lighter? That doesn’t make sense, I’m sorry.”
“It does make sense, I totally get it. Ohhhhkay, I think I’ve had enough wine. Hey, hey, c'n I like…stay here tonight?” Lup asked.
“Definitely.” Lucretia was glad that Lup had suggested it, because she probably wouldn’t have asked her to stay and she didn’t really want to be alone.
“Mind if I deconstruct the blanket fort? I’m not super chill with enclosed spaces,” added Lup.
“You built it!” Lucretia said, managing a quiet giggle. “But yes, of course.”
Lup laughed as well. She pulled the fort down and covered the two of them in the blankets. She put her arms around Lucretia’s waist and snuggled her close. “Thank you for saying yes to this,” she said softly. “I know I said we were doing it to stop you from isolating, but, y'know what? I kinda missed ya. I feel like we haven’t spent much time together over the past few cycles.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucretia whispered.
“Not your fault, babes. We get busy, life gets hard. Sometimes we die.” Lup chuckled. “Gods, what a weird thing to say so casually.”
“Pretty weird,” agreed Lucretia. She yawned.
Lup turned the lights off. She hugged Lucretia closer. “This was nice,” she said after a few minutes. She sounded sleepy. “Let’s do it again. Make girls night in a regular thing. Maybe not always with the crying part, but, y'know, sometimes we just need that.”
“I’d like that,” Lucretia said, closing her eyes. “Goodnight.”
“Night-night, Lucy.”
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continued from here, companion piece to this and this
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All Josiah wants when he hears the knock at the door is Mal’s reassuring smile, an easy hug, the gentle squeeze of his arm that tells him everything is going to be fine. Besides the need for medical expertise, it’s the reason Josiah had called him. Apparently though, when Josiah had called, asked quietly and desperately for Mal’s help with a drugged-out friend, he’d forgotten the three magic words: don’t tell Lou.
He must have, because that’s more or less the only explanation for the 5 feet of leather-clad fury awaiting him when he answers the door.
Lou is easy and laid back most of the time. Quick to joke, quicker to laugh. But for nearly two years now, even the mention of Cass was enough to drain her of humour in a second. And now he’s here. And Josiah had been keeping it from her. Leather-clad fury was probably an understatement.
“Where is he?”
She’s already trying to push through the door as she speaks. Josiah barely blocks her step with a foot.
“Hi Lou, I’m good, how are you?”
Mal meets his eyes over Lou’s shoulder, raises his finger with an apologetic salute.
“Back room?” he asks.
“My bedroom,” Josiah says, shifting barely enough to let the nurse slide past “Thanks, Mal.”
Mal gives Josiah’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he passes, and the comfort it floods him with is nearly embarrassing. He barely has time to block the doorway again as Lou makes another move to pass.
“You’re not coming in.”
“Like hell I’m not,” she spits, teeth bared between purple lipstick “I’m gonna kill him.”
“I’m not doing this, Lou, I’m tired. You can come in, calm down, and have a cup of tea or you can leave.”
Lou looks like she might hit him, shifting from foot to foot like a boxer. She opens her mouth to say something, closes it again, before spinning around to let her rage out on a nearby pot-plant.
“Kick my fern and die,” he warns. She stamps her foot down with a grunt, makes a sound like she’s considering screaming out the excess aggression but doesn’t want to worry the neighbours. Josiah waits.
Lou leans her back against the balcony railing and seems to swallow down a pintful of violence before screwing her eyes shut, running her hands over her shaved head and looking at the sky as she takes deep breaths. They’re so specific and measured, Josiah can count them out.
In for six, hold for four, out for six. In for six, hold for four, out for six.
And Josiah waits.
The wind curls around the house and eventually, Lou open her eyes again, fuse longer but clearly still smouldering. Her are arms crossed in a way that suggests they’d be strangling something if she didn’t have them so carefully folded.
“You better have chamomile.”
Josiah steps aside and Lou pushes past maybe a little too roughly but calmly enough. Josiah takes a deep breath before stepping after her, thanking anyone who’s listening that he’d had time to tidy up the living room before Lou could have that to get angry at as well. But by the time Josiah’s followed her, Lou has bypassed living room and headed straight into the upturned kitchen. Of course.
She looks around pointedly before sitting herself at the stool by the bench, holding Josiah’s gaze as she does. “We can have the tea in here, right?”
He clenches his jaw. He knows what she’s doing. She’s waiting for him to tell her that the mess in here is making him uncomfortable and that she should move to the couch. To tell her that she’s sitting too close right now for him to turn his back to her. To tell her that he can’t handle this, that he should have called her sooner, that he’s about to go backwards. But he doesn’t tell her any of that. Because he’s fine. Because he is handling this.
“No problem,” he says, forcing a smile. Only a little bit of disdain sneaks through “Loose leaf or bag?”
“Loose. Make a pot, Mal will have some too”
She leans forward on her arms and begins tapping her finger nails on the bench with a tatatatat, tatatatat. Another test. Tatatatat.
Josiah leans against the bench for a moment, taking a deep breath before straightening up again and flicking the kettle on. Lou’s a bitch when she wants to be.
“Love what you’ve done with the place, by the way,” Lou says, picking up a rogue fork with one hand while the other tatatatats “Really gives the place that ransacked Airbnb feel I know you love”
Josiah scoops chamomile into the strainer and takes a deep breath. Tatatatat.
“Honey?” he asks, fetching a spoon.
Tatatatat.
“I would, but by the looks, you’d have to scrape it off the tiles”
Tatatatat. Tatatatat. Tatatatat.
“Calming down was part of the arrangement,” he says, reminding himself as much as Lou.
“I am calm,” she says, shrugging. The steel in her eyes only betrays her a little “I’m not going to just not talk about this, Jos.”
“Nothing to talk about,” Josiah shrugs, turning his back. He doesn’t look at her as he fetches mugs “Cass showed up, he looked sick, I called Mal, end of.”
Lou nods slowly, tatatatat, tatatatat, “And then you decided to turn your own house upside down for fun, did you?”
Josiah slams the cupboard draw shut harder than it needs, wheeling around to face her, and catching her hand flat against the bench to stop the sound. He manages to keep his tone relatively even, despite the anger bubbling hot in his chest.
“I’ve had a long fucking day, Lou, are you going to stop being an asshole or are you going to leave?”
“Depends. Are you gonna tell me what actually happened here, or am I gonna go ask Ace myself?”
“I told you what happened, you just don’t like the story.”
“What I don’t like is being lied to.”
Josiah grunts and pushes away from her. He leans back against the stove, resisting the urge to press his hand to his head, which is starting to pound again, to the back of his neck which is starting to itch. He closes his eyes. Weighs his options.
If Lou finds out Cass has been here the better part of a week, Josiah’s never gonna hear the goddamn end of it. There’ll be yelling and you should have called me and your safety needs to be a priority and she’ll be so disappointed in him. Not that the last part matters, he reminds himself, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Not that it matters, it’ll just be annoying.
“He came yesterday,” he mutters, trying his very best to look resigned and wrung through. If lies look beaten out of you, they seem honest. Then partial truth to sell it. “I just… left to get some milk. And by the time I came back, he’d freaked out. Turned the house sideways. Kept saying I’d drugged him.”
“Had you?”
The glare he fixes her with is violent enough that, for maybe only the second time since he’s known her, Josiah watches Lou shrink in instant regret.
“Sorry,” she says. She means it.
It’s quiet for a moment as the tea brews. Josiah swirls the pot a little, hoping to make the leaves steep faster. He knows it doesn’t do much, but it helps to have something to do with his hands.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re not… It’s not…” Lou stumbles for words, spinning the fork idly. It really helps to have something to do with your hands. “Cass just… scares me. He really scares me. Especially around you.”
The comment hits Josiah like a bullet to the chest, and he sucks in a breath trying to shove down the flare of anger that hits him. Despite popular opinion, he’s not a helpless, naive moron being led astray by pretty people with ill intentions. He doesn’t need her fear. He doesn’t want her pity.
“I’m not some fucking waif, Lou,” he grinds out. He pours the tea.
“Come on Jos, you know that’s not what I meant,” she says and that hard line is back in her voice “What if he’s working with Tucker again? Or someone else?”
Josiah doesn’t answer. He’s thought of this. Of course he’s fucking thought of this, she needs to leave it.
“If he is, I’ll handle it.”
“Yeah? How did that go last time?”
He clenches his hands into fists. He doesn’t need reminders about last time. He has enough reminders about last time. He feels his heart in his throat.
“Cass is a time bomb,” Lou says, and her voice is soft and pained. Gentle in a way she isn’t often “When there’s a time bomb in your house you call in the bomb squad, you don’t wait for it to blow up in your face.”
“I called Mal.”
“You should have called me.”
“Calling you wouldn’t have been calling in the bomb squad it would’ve been pulling the pin on a grenade.”
There’s a strike of wounding in her face at that, but understanding too. She knows he’s right.
“What happens when he names you, Jos?” she whispers, and for a second Josiah swears there’s a shake in her voice. “Are you gonna handle that too or do I just have to be okay with losing you again?”
Josiah sags and reaches for her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Old signals. This is why she wasn’t meant to know Cass was back. This is why she shouldn’t be here.
“It wasn’t like that this time, Lou,” he says “He didn’t-”
But Lou pulls her hand away, like he’s burnt her. Any gentleness is gone from her face, replaced with shock and hard steel.
“I’m sorry… what wasn’t like that this time?” her voice is sharp, loud, probably audible from the other room. Her heart is beating so hard that Josiah can see it in the pulse of the necklace she’s wearing. She laughs and it’s bitter and cold and disbelieving. He sucks in a breath, like bracing for a hit.
“He’s already fucking named you, hasn’t he?” she says. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t need to. The stool crashes to the ground as she stands “Oh, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
Lou’s already moving before she even finishes speaking, making a bee-line for the bedroom. She’s moving fast enough that despite the pace difference between them, she’s already made it to the hallway by the time Josiah can cut her off. He slams a hand to the wall, blocking the narrow path.
“Move,” she growls. He stays still, shakes his head, knows she won’t risk pushing past him.
"Not even twenty four hours and he’s in your head again,” her voice is a snarl, vicious and low “Is that why you’re so calm? Is that why you’re suddenly fine with that piece of shit in your bed?”
She doesn’t mean it to be cruel or maybe she does, but either way Josiah feels the shame of it settling in his gut. It wasn’t like that - it isn’t like that. It's… different and he’s different and he is in control. He chose it this time. He chose to bring Cass in, to help him. It was his decision.
“It’s not like that-”
"You’re always defending him. No matter what he does to you, no matter how he hurts you, you’re always defending him.”
“He hasn’t done-”
“This is why you didn’t call, isn’t it?” and she’s not even listening. She doesn’t even care, she’s just barreling on no matter what he says “He made you lie, he made you keep it from me.”
“No, Lou, I chose to keep it from you. I chose to lie. I chose to call Mal because I didn’t want to deal with this- I didn’t want to deal with you, alright?!”
He doesn’t hear the door opening, doesn’t hear Cass’ furious rambling as he pushes through to the hallway. But he sees Lou looking over his shoulder, and sees her face crumpling, hears the breathless, shocked “Cass” that escapes her lips. Then he hears Mal.
“I take it you’ve met my wife?”
Then he sees Cass’ eyes rolling backwards. He only has just enough time to catch him as he faints.
#emotional whump#angst#past trauma#shared trauma#betrayal of trust#yahOOO a LOU#I have been waiting so long for my brain to write this so j could just fucking introDuce her#hhh#Josiah#Lou#the present#also sorry that this ends at the same point as Cass' one does lmao#also also sorry that this isn't the bthb fill I promised lmao#this has been a wip for just far too fucking long and I needed to post it#arguing#bad caretakers unITE#anger born from fear#anger born from worry#protective caretaker#angry caretaker#yeeeeeeeee
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What song makes you feel better?what’s your favorite candle scent?what flower would you like to be given?say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).what calms you down?what’s your ideal date?how are you?what’s your comfort food?do you still love stuffed animals?what’s something you do to de-stress?hugs or hand-holding?morning, afternoon or night?what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)? [for mun
What song makes you feel better?
Ooo, this really depends on a lot of stuff. But weirdly, one song I go to a lot is Tubthumping by Chumbawumba. The names really tell you the vibe of the song >w>' it's silly- too silly to really take much seriously when you're listening to it, so it gradually cheers me up that way. But it's mostly the chorus bit that does it.
"I get knocked down, but I get up again! You are never gonna keep me down!"
Repeated over and over again with pride and happiness like a football chant.
It's the kind of mood that's just infectious, it's a crowd celebrating something, enjoying where and who they are. Pair that with the message in those lines, and, I dunno. It just really helps me~
_
what’s your favorite candle scent?
Oh this one is tough. My sense of smell isn't that great, usually I can smell a candle if I pick it up and sniff it, but when it's lit I don't tend to smell anything. There are very few candles I can light and smell in the room. So I tend to just pick candles based on colour tbh x'D
One thing I do love though is oil diffusers. A few drops of violet essential oil in the water, it comes out as steam, makes the place smell really nice.
_
What flower would you like to be given?
Aww, that's a cute one~ I'd love to be given any flower really, but if I have to pick... I'd say a sunflower. I think it'd be really funny to have someone pull this giant flower from behind their back and hand it over. X')
_
Say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).
That's six! You can't fool me there >w> buuuuut fine.
Physical: I like my eye colour, I've got a general hourglass shape that I like, and I'm told I have very comfortable shoulders to lean on? Haha
Non-physical: I'm fairly intelligent, have a lot of patience when I need it, and I'm pretty weird, which is often funny for other people x')
_
What calms you down?
If I'm anxious, I have a few apps on my phone I can use that usually help. 'What's Up' is a great one, it has different tools you can use like grounding exercises and retargeting your thoughts and stuff. I also have games on there like Zen Koi and Alto's Odyssey, which I find relaxing. They're not too complicated to manage but they do grab my attention and have chill music on them.
If I'm calming down from being angry.... Dogs. I find if a dog comes up to me for a hug or something, I have to relax my muscles more, I have to be gentle with them and reassure them that it's all okay, it's like a conscious effort I make for their sake. So it puts a stop to my stressing out long enough for me to just start enjoying the fact that I have a dog. ^^
_
What’s your ideal date?
Ooo good question...
At the minute I can't really date at all with my health being this bad, so I'd probably go for a casual date where we play a low-pressure game together at home. I'm talking battleship, tetris, any Super Mario game that has a multiplayer feature, Snipperclips, Jenga, Wii tennis, anything. Just us chilling, having a little bit of playful rivalry maybe, a few healthy snacks~ that would be awesome. Some of these games we could even play from two separate places with a video call going, which would mean I wouldn't have to push myself to host or leave the house or even force myself to shower in advance; I could even stay in bed and just prop myself up with some pillows if I really needed to, take a laptop and we could go play something online maybe.
In the future though (because I really hope I'll improve eventually and get some of my life back) I'd still love the more casual fun dates, but not stuck inside. I'd love to go minigolfing and be terrible at it so we can both laugh at my awful shots, and I'll do some hopeless ironic trash talk and then lose by a mile~
I'd like to have a dog we can walk together. We could go to a quiet beach, which will probably be cold and muddy because it's England but we'll let the dog loose and smile at how much fun they're having, maybe play fetch or something, and then at the end be so so grateful that we thought to put old towels over the back seats of the car for our very very happy, very very very wet dog~
It'd be fun to go to a theme park together, or walk around a garden centre and plan out a garden we'll probably never get around to. Or a zoo! That'd be a great date place, a zoo, or SeaWorld, both are good.
I'd like to go for ice cream and sit on some random grassy bank to eat it together. To go to an art gallery with a camera and most of my photos would just be of my date seeing something she likes~ maybe I could even take a sketchbook too, and I could draw her in the styles and/or poses of whichever pieces she wants me to, while she poses in ridiculous funny ways and makes me laugh so much that I have to stop and then we move to the next room.
I've been too ill for too long and had so much emotional crap in my life, I wouldn't choose the rigid restaurant dates with all the same rules and the pressure, or strive to try and be the most romantic couple or whatever else.
For me, what I'd value most is being able to get out of the house and enjoy the world, and having a date with a light-hearted atmosphere.
_
How are you?
Tired as always! X') but for real, today has actually been okay. The last few days have been really rough pain-wise, but it hasn't been quite as bad today, so hopefully it'll ease off back to normal from here~ I've also been pretty productive in the last two days so I'm very happy with myself rn ^^
_
What’s your comfort food?
I have a couple! Chocolate, of course, is a classic one (chocolate peanuts in particular are something I reach for for comfort). And also, a hot pasta-based meal like lasagna or, heck just pasta in a nice sauce will do. Those meals are more like the comfort of being warm and homely, the kind of thing I might love if I were really tired and feeling sorry for myself, while chocolate peanuts are the "I'm upset so I'm eating my feelings" food. X')
_
Do you still love stuffed animals?
Of course! I don't have tons all over my bed purely because it's inconvenient, but I do keep two huge ones- a dog and a shark- on top of my wardrobe, and my littlest childhood friend is always in my room somewhere~
His name is Scruffy, and right now he's sleeping in my crystal box (open) on top of all the empty velvet bags. ^^ I used to take him everywhere, cuddle him every night as a slept.. he usually smelled pretty gross because I never wanted to give him up to be washed, haha X) thankfully he doesn't have that problem now~
_
What’s something you do to de-stress?
This might sound lame but, jigsaw puzzles. It has to be real ones, at the table with some music in my headphones. If I can't do that for whatever reason, I go to the bathroom and run cold water over my wrists for a minute or two, over the veiny side. It's kind of a mini cleansing ritual. I sometimes combine that with some deep breaths and imagine the water is literally washing the stress out of me, and it really does help. It's something I can do quickly and easily, I can just do it while or after washing my hands or something and that's that~
_
Hugs or hand-holding?
Hmm... prolonged, I'm not a huge fan of either? Eventually if you're holding hands it's like, when do you let go? What if your hand gets warm and clammy, or sweaty? Same with like a cuddle. Once you're in it, how do you say "hey I'm kind of uncomfortable now, this physical contact has gone on too long"? You don't want to be rude, and it might be hard to explain, so you've probably got to blame on being too warm even if you're not, and then that's a lie, and.. it's just awkward.
A regular hug though, that's okay. It can last longer than usual and still not be a problem, because at least, you know, you won't be hugging for half an hour, at some point soon you'll let go. And it feels nice, you know? From someone I care about and trust anyway~ it's like a physical way of saying "I love you" and it's nice to have someone's arms holding you, to wrap yours around them and just hold them tight.. you both feel warm inside and secure and wanted. I wouldn't be keen on a hug from a stranger or an acquaintance, even a new-ish friend. But someone who's close to me? All the hugs. Give me the hugs, let me hug you back, many many hugs. X)
_
Morning, afternoon or night?
Night! Actually I love those really early mornings, you know when the air still has that kind of... Crispness to it. That is amazing. But I'm never awake for that anymore.
(^▽ ^;)ゞ
_
What reminds you of home?
Thunderstorms, loud planes overhead, chinook noises, soft hugs when I'm upset, mum's cooking, pictures of our old dog Harvey, little fluffy dogs running about.
Most of this is easy to figure out I'm sure, but I do want to talk about the first couple.
Until the age of 11 my family lived on a military air base, so there were always big planes taking off and landing, and I really do mean always. We learned the difference between some of them by sound. I could be sat at home and we'd hear one and know, that had to be a Herc landing (landing always sounded different to taking off), or a teacher would have to stop talking at school to let one go by, and everyone knew that one was a VC10. (VC10s are the LOUDEST thing I have ever heard to this day. I'd probably still recognise one now~)
We also saw and heard Chinooks a lot. Now for anyone who doesn't know, those are the weird helicopters that have two... Fan parts? I don't actually know what they're called. X') (I looked it up, they're called rotors!) They kinda look like the bit of a retro telephone that you'd pick up and hold to your face.
Now having two rotors means that they can carry a Lot of weight, but it also means they don't sound like normal helicopters do. The two rotors are timed out so that the blades from each side can go through the same middle space without hitting each other, Left blade then right blade then left then right then left, and you can kind of hear it happening. Instead of the kind of 'Wubbubbubbubbubbub' of normal helicopters, a chinook sounds more like 'Wokka wokka wokka wokka'.
Where I am now, we only hear some small jets once a week at most when they take practice flights, and sometimes a normal police or ambulance helicopter. It took me a long time to get used to the quiet of most places, and sometimes I miss all the overhead noise we had back then.
And we got so many thunderstorms! Every single summer, usually at night. Now that I think about it the pollution from all the aircraft might have been involved in this too. >w>" But I loved it. We'd all gather in mum's room and open the curtains wide to watch. My little sister was scared of thunder back then so it was better for her to have people around and to make it fun. I was always just excited! And I still get that way if I hear thunder now~
#wow this is a long post#i actually fell asleep a couple questions from the end#ive just finished it off this morning#haha#ooc#mun stuff#asimplerper
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A Hundred Thousands Voices that Just Can’t Sing
wow. a oneshot. @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i wrote a oneshot. shocking.
i don’t have much else to say so... enjoy this fluff and angst fest
this particular summer’s heat stretch spelled longer than any jane can remember, and even with central air conditioning, it seems just as hot inside as outside.
she and katherine spend many afternoons trying to beat the heat at the beach, the library, anywhere where relief could potentially be found.
it doesn’t escape jane’s notice, however, that as august begins to pass into september, parr, who usually was reclusive, seemed nonexistent around the house, not coming out for meals or anything other than the show itself.
on one particular day, jane finds the perfect opportunity to approach parr about it. boleyn and cleves were taking katherine to something called ‘laser tag’, and they’d somehow roped aragon into coming along as a form of adult supervision, meaning that jane and parr were the only two people left in the house.
it concerns jane, parr’s lack of presence around the house. sure, she often spent a lot of time alone, but she’d usually be around when jane made a morning cup of tea, or she’d pop out of her room to lend katherine a book.
so, then, she decides she should speak to parr about it. she knocks gently on parr’s door, listening for signs of movement inside.
it’s nearly silent in parr’s study, all she can hear is the occasional shift of a floorboard, but beyond that there’s no sound at all. jane had been fully expecting to hear pen scratches or keyboard taps or even books moving, but there really was no sign of life.
“cathy?” she quietly calls. “it’s jane. can i come in, love?”
jane would swear on her life she heard a noise - maybe a sigh of some sort, could have been a sniffle, but it was very parr. as is the response, a simple, voice-barely-above-a-normal-volume, “no.”
jane pauses, taken aback. that wasn’t what she’d expected at all. she hovers by the door for a moment, unsure of what to do. she didn’t want to push parr, or make her feel uncomfortable at all, but she was worried about her and the way parr had responded to the question hadn’t made her worry decrease in the slightest.
“are you sure?” she asks, possibly slightly futilely.
there’s still no sign that parr was actually there, the room so quiet and so still.
on the other side of the door, parr is sitting in her desk chair, rolling pencils between her fingers, trying to make any words flow out all. but all she can focus on, besides her obvious problems, are jane’s shifting feet on the floor just outside her room.
“go away, jane.”
jane doesn’t say anything after that, and parr turns back to her desk. she notices, however, the telltale silence and lack of creaking floorboards that could have only meant jane hadn’t walked away from the door. she sighs and turns back.
“are you just gonna stand out there or what?” she asks. she feels like there should be a tone of sarcasm behind her voice, but instead it comes out as exhaustion.
“parr...” jane starts, but her voice cracks and falters before disappearing. she clears her throat and tries again. “cathy, i just want to make sure you’re okay, love. you’ve been distant lately, and i want you to know that whatever the problem is... you can come to me about it.”
“i’m fine, jane,” parr nearly snaps. “just leave me alone, please.”
jane feels a pang to her heart at the tone of parr’s voice and she sighs.
“i’ll... i’ll be downstairs if you need me, cathy.”
she keeps her word and heads downstairs, mind troubled with thoughts of parr and what’s making her withdraw herself like this. she wants parr to open up to her, to talk to her about what’s wrong, but she knows pushing parr will just make her draw back into her she’ll even more.
her best plan at the moment, she supposes, is to leave it a little while, then bring parr a cup of tea or something, see if she’s ready to talk then. if not, then jane doesn’t know how to get through to her right now.
parr sighs, somewhat thankful and somewhat upset as she hears jane's retreating footsteps. the woman means well, parr knows that, but she just can't talk about-
no, parr reminds herself, not thinking about it.
she forces those thoughts out of her head, but the more she tries the more they come back. she drops her head onto her desk, desperately trying to not think about mary.
oh, there it is, and the floodgates begin.
parr died only days after having her beautiful baby girl, and she has no idea what happened to her. if she even lived past infanthood. there was no information anywhere that she could find, and it makes her tremble and shake like the hills in a storm not knowing whatever happened to her little mae.
she doesn't quite know when she fell on the floor, but curling up on the rug feels like a great idea for the time being.
the tears that are currently streaming down her face certainly weren’t unexpected at this point, but she didn’t know exactly when they started falling. she lays there, shoulders shaking as the sobs rack her body, too wrapped up in misery to even think about muffling her tears or wiping them from her face.
she doesn’t even notice the door open, not until a pair of slippered feet enter her field of vision.
"parr?" a soft, gentle, and immediately recognizable voice calls.
parr knows it's jane, she does, but she's too far consumed in her guilt and her grief that she can't even think about answering. she hugs herself tighter, wrapping her arms around her waist as she nearly buries her face in the soft shag carpet.
"cathy," jane says, quietly kneeling down next to parr. she places a hand on her shoulder, and parr nearly hisses and pulls back. "cathy, it's jane, love. talk to me."
“go away,” parr’s mouth answers on autopilot, although she isn’t quite sure how she even manages to speak between the choked sobs and her clouded mind.
“i won’t,” jane says, soft but firm. “i’m not going to leave you like this, love. not even if you scream and shout at me.”
screaming and shouting sounds like a good idea to parr, if she could only remember how to take control of her voice again.
she balls some of the carpet into her fist, burrowing further into it and silently hoping it would just swallow her.
“what’s brought this on, love,” jane asks gently, “please talk to me.”
more images of her baby girl, wrapped in that little silk blanket, appear in front of her eyes. her heart starts to race, breathing quickening as she loses track of jane in front of her.
“mary,” she whispers hoarsely, as if calling her back. “mary.”
at that one word, everything slots into place. or at least, most of it. jane knows that parr never got to spend time with her daughter, that she was likely taken out of the room right away as parr took ill, and jane can relate to the heartbreaking sight of seeing your baby being taken away, unsure if you’ll ever see them again.
“cathy,” jane says, softly, gently. “please, you can talk to me about it.” as jane speaks, parr manages to catch onto her words and hear them, grounding herself ever so slightly. as jane continues, though, parr wonders if it would have been better to not have heard them at all.
“i understand how you feel, cathy,” jane sighs, and she’s only trying to help, but parr feels a strange rage bubble up inside her.
“no you don’t,” she hisses, a sudden venom behind her words.
“i do, cathy,” jane insists, “me and eddie, remember?”
“that’s not the same.”
“it is, cathy, i died just-“
“it is not the same, jane,” parr hisses, a dark bitterness spreading through her words. “mary,” she chokes on the name, but presses on, “mary was my only chance. after your,” she gives jane a sharp poke on the shoulder, pushing her back slightly, “bastard of a brother ruined everything i had with bess, she wouldn’t come near me!” her voice lowers, but not to a whisper but nearly to growl. “i had no one, and mary was my only chance.”
jane, stares, a horrified frown on her face. “cathy, i-” she begins, but parr isn’t done yet.
“and then, when i hadn’t even had a chance to hold her, i was ripped away from her.” she gives a dark chuckle. “maybe it’s karma. i should have done something more for bess. i should have recognised the signs, i should have listened earlier, i should have not been so blinded by my love for that bastard-” here she pauses, squeezing her eyes shut. “i should have done so much more, but i didn’t. so maybe this was just life’s way of getting back at me. taking away the two most important things in my life, one after the other.”
“cathy-“
“don’t even try, jane,” parr protests, she still can’t make herself move off the floor. what scares jane next is the way that parr’s breathing seems to get faster, a slightly high-pitched nervous giggle forming in her words as she continues, “and everyone knows bess became the greatest queen who ever lived, right? but i don’t even know what happened to mary, because according to all the books i read, her life stopped mattering the second mine ended!” there are tears and fast breathing and shrill, uncomfortable giggles all together now, and parr’s fists keep clenching and unclenching the carpet.
“she was an orphan before she even reached a year old, and nobody even bothered to find out what happened to her. why would anyone care, after all? she was only my daughter. i only gave my life for her.”
parr’s voice had reached a volume jane had never heard it reach before, and if anyone else was in the house they definitely would have heard it by now.
there were tears streaming down her face so fast it just looked like perpetual wetness. but parr still isn’t done.
“i had plans to take her away. we were going to run off to ireland and leave all the mess behind. i was going to give her everything. but she was left alone, and no one fucking decided to document the life of a former english queen.”
jane takes in a breath. not only was this the angriest she’d ever seen parr, but it was the first time she’d ever heard her swear. she doesn’t know what to do or what to say, and can only let parr pour out her heart on the floor of her study. jane is powerless to do anything.
it seems that parr is coming to the end of her outburst, or at least to a break in it, and her body slumps over, drained of energy.
“why didn’t anybody care?” she asks, the biting tone to her voice replaced with exhaustion.
jane doesn’t know how to answer, how to react to such an admission. parr just dumped her broken soul on the carpet and jane needed to help clean it up. she just doesn’t know how.
she truthfully had never thought of how losing mary and elizabeth must have affected parr. she never talked about it, somewhat like how boleyn didn’t either.
“i just wish i knew,” parr basically whimpers, “what happened to her.”
“cathy,” jane says softly, “i... i’m sorry. i didn’t know-”
“yeah, you and everyone else,” parr says harshly, before sighing and dropping her head. “sorry. ‘s not your fault. i just...”
she doesn’t say anything after that, nor does she move, and jane kneels down next to her.
she slowly reaches out and places a gentle hand on parr’s shoulder, light enough that parr would be able to knock it off if she didn’t want any contact.
she doesn’t.
parr presses her forehead into the carpet trying to slow her breathing and calm her mind.
“i keep seeing her,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “when i’m sleeping. she’s there. beautiful little girl, greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. but she’s not real.” she slams her fist against the carpet. “she’s gone.”
“maybe we could find a historian to look into it,” jane suggests hesitantly, but parr shakes her head.
“i’ve tried, jane. i’ve tried every avenue I can think of. nobody knows what happened to her because there was nobody who cared about her after me and thomas-” she stumbles over his name slightly, “-died. until someone invents a time machine i’ll never know.” she sighs bitterly and jane doesn’t blame her; for all her sadness over edward, she at least had accounts of his life, had paintings she could look at and see how he’d grown.
“i wish they were here,” parr whispers. “bess and mae. i wish i could apologize.” she sighs. “i’d tell bess that i didn’t mean to let her be hurt, that i think i really loved her more than thomas...” parr sniffles slightly. “and i’d tell mae that... i love her. i didn’t mean to leave.” she choked out the last few words as tears begin to flow again.
jane doesn’t know what to say, so instead she just wraps an arm around parr’s shoulders, slightly awkwardly given parr’s position on the floor.
to her relief, parr seems to accept the contact and even leans her head to the side, resting it against jane’s knee as she sobs. jane rubs gentle circles onto parr’s shoulder with her thumb, hoping the movement would soothe her slightly or at least give her some reassurance that she wasn’t alone, that jane was here for her.
there’s a flutter of conversation downstairs as the group returns, and parr immediately cringes as the loud voices drive through the house, especially in the half-witted state she was in.
“would you like me to close the door?” jane asks, shuffling to do so, but parr lets out a soft noise and grabs at her wrist.
“they’ll come anyway.”
she is found to be correct, as footsteps and laughter echo up the stairs and stops outside the office.
“cathy?” katherine asks quietly. “what’s wrong?”
“a few things, kid,” parr half-laughs, although she mostly sounds exhausted. “your mum’s been taking care of me, though.”
“oh,” katherine says. there’s a pause as she shifts from one foot to the other. “is there anything i can do to help?”
“could you fetch a glass of water, love?” jane says softly. she’s sure parr would appreciate it after losing so much in her tears. katherine nods and hurries past the other queens who are clustered awkwardly in the landing.
boleyn enters next. she sits down cross-legged net to jane, looking down at parr with surprisingly kind and sympathetic eyes.
before she can speak, parr nearly starts to cry again. “i’m sorry about bess,” she mumbles. “so sorry.”
boleyn’s lips tighten, but then relax. “i know, parr, but it’s okay. don’t beat yourself up.”
“i wish i could have kept her safe,” parr whispers.
“she didn’t resent you for anything,” boleyn says quietly. “i learnt that from my reading.”
“i wouldn’t have blamed her if she did.” parr’s voice is barely audible. “if you did.”
“i don’t...” boleyn closes her eyes then opens them. “i don’t blame you for what happened. sure, maybe you could have done more.” parr lets out a choked half-whimper at that. “but most of us have done things in our lives we regret. i know i regret the way i treated aragon’s mary.” she scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “i’m not gonna hold a grudge for 500 years when you weren’t the one who did it.”
a smile flicker like a broken light across parr’s lips, then falls away. “she was so perfect, anne,” parr absently says, “so smart and bold. could name every flower in the royal garden... we spoke in french or italian so we couldn’t be easily understood...” she turns her head slightly to look up at boleyn. “she asked about you. who you were...” she drops her voice. “what happened to you. i didn’t know how to tell her, i believed you innocent anyway... she just thought you died.”
boleyn gives a rueful shake of her head. “not my girl. she would have found it out, she was resourceful as hell. but... i appreciate you looking out for her like that, i really do.”
“she loved you so much,” parr says faintly. “sometimes some of the things you do... she was so much like you, anne.”
boleyn wipes hastily at her eyes, which were beginning to fill with tears.
aragon, finally understanding the situation, enters the room as well, joining the circle. her goddaughter needed her.
“you did nothing wrong, parr,” she says gently, “what happened in the past... we can’t change it.”
parr opens her mouth to respond when katherine comes flying in with the water. she hands it to parr, then lays down on the floor next to her. she looks at parr with wide, youthful eyes. “i hope you feel better, aunty cathy,” she whispers.
parr gives her a watery smile. “thank you, mon petit ange,” she says gently. katherine shifts closer to her until she’s almost curled up against her, and aragon puts her hand on parr’s shoulder.
“we’re here for you.” her voice is strong yet soft. “whenever you need to talk, we’re here to listen. we promise.”
“aragon’s right,” boleyn nods. “you don’t have to bottle everything up. we’re your family, cathy, and we wanna help when we can.”
parr looks at them - all of them, as cleves had followed katherine in and took up residence beside boleyn - and her eyes fill with tears again. she wraps one arm around katherine, pulling the girl against her, and places her other hand on top of aragon’s. she smiles again, watery and sad, but with some bare semblance of hope. “thank you, i...” she sniffles. “i don’t know what i did in my past life to deserve you all, but i love you ladies.” she takes a breath. “even if i don’t show it, i do.”
“we love you too,” katherine says, voice muffled against the material of parr’s jumper.
“and don’t you forget it,” aragon adds, leaning over and pressing an oddly maternal kiss to the top of parr’s head.
“that’s the beauty of this second chance, love,” jane says softly. “we all have each other.”
“we all have each other,” parr repeats in a faint murmur. she feels katherine pull against her more, and she finally feels cognizant enough to bend her head just slightly and kiss the top of kat’s head.
“can’t get rid of us so easily,” boleyn laughs.
parr lets out a breathy chuckle, then meets boleyn’s eyes seriously. “i would never want to, anne.” she kisses kat’s head again. “never.”
#six the musical#six musical#catherine parr#jane seymour#katherine howard#anne boleyn#catherine of aragon#anne of cleves#julie and jess write#a hundred thousand voices that just can't sing
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