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teawaffles · 3 years

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Forbidden Games: Chapter 5

At William’s question, Alan beckoned to another of his accomplices. That man took an item from his breast pocket and handed it to Alan.

“This is the game we’ll be playing today.”

In his hands was a revolver.

With the appearance of this dangerous weapon, the two men understood the contents of the game in a flash.

“Russian roulette, indeed.”

“Quite right. I believe you had spoken to one of the club members about this a short while ago. For what it’s worth, I was the one who learned about this game and introduced it to the club.”

Sherlock turned a deaf ear to Alan’s careless self-praise, instead staring at the gun in his hands.

“A Peacemaker……? No, it’s a little different. A modified version?” [1]

Alan hummed in approval. “Bravo. This is a modified Colt Single Action Army, made specially to order. The cylinder opens to the side. The type popular in the hall is but a toy which uses rubber bullets, but—— this one uses the real deal.”

“In other words, you’re asking us to wager our lives.”

“Indeed. Defeat means death.”

“I see.”

Even in the face of the word ‘death’, the two men remained unshaken. Alan, finding their lack of reaction dull, continued his explanation.

“The process goes as follows: first, open the cylinder and load a bullet.”

He mimed the action with the revolver in his hand, and closed the cylinder.

“After closing the cylinder, give it a spin.”

He then used his open palm to strike the cylinder, causing it to spin vigorously. It made a pleasant sound as it rotated, then gradually came to a stop.

“And there you have it. By the way, this gun has a maximum capacity of six bullets. Do you understand what that means?”

He seemed a little unskilled in handling guns, but his actions thus far lacked any trace of doubt. Both William and Sherlock nodded in silence.

“Excellent. Now, I wish to take both of you on, so I’ll be adding another player to my team to make this a two-versus-two match. The game will end either when a player is shot, or when one side surrenders without firing a bullet.”

Alan chose the man who had handed him the gun earlier. The other accomplices solemnly placed chairs around the table, and six bullets on the table itself.

Sherlock walked up to a chair.

“So you’re saying that each side is going to take turns firing the gun on themselves. Then let’s get on with deciding the order.”

“Please wait just a moment.”

Alan raised a hand to cut Sherlock off.

“That would be no different from ordinary Russian roulette. Hence I’m going to add just one more rule, to make this a little more thrilling for everyone.”

The duo listened on in silence.

“The rule is as follows: the next person to fire the gun has to load at least one more bullet into it.”

“At least one more……”

William immediately understood what that meant.

In other words, if the first player loads in one bullet, then the next player will have to use a roulette with two or more bullets. In the round after that, the gun must contain at least three bullets. Therefore, the last player would naturally be at a disadvantage.

“With these rules, the game will be settled early on,” William pointed out.

Alan shrugged.

“Well then, what will you do? Will you proceed? If you pull out at this stage, it will be considered your loss by default, and I’ll be happy to give you both a concession on your forfeit, you know.”

With the revolver in one hand, he made a clownish gesture as he pressed the two men for an answer. If they finally chickened out and begged him to call off the game, he would get a windfall. And even if they didn’t take up his offer, just watching the colour of their faces drain from fear would be enough to sate his desires.

However, as for the duo——.

“Let’s proceed.”

“Fine by me.”

Without hesitation, they accepted the match.

Although he’d half-predicted this scenario, Alan still grit his teeth.

“……That courage is definitely something I wish to emulate. But let’s get on with it right away. The sequence of players is just as Mr Holmes mentioned: both teams will take turns firing on themselves. ……Well, since my team was the one to suggest this game, let’s have your team start off.”

“Playing fair now won’t earn you any gratitude. ……Liam, what’ll we do?”

“…………”

For a few seconds, William sank deep into thought.

Many things raced through his mind: the opponent’s words and movements up to this point, an analysis of Alan’s personality, how the game would unfold, and the possible situations they could find themselves in after the game ended. The predictions branched out far and wide, and he considered each of them with no omissions, selecting the actions that they would have to take—— and finally arriving at a decision.

“Mr Holmes.”

He called out to Sherlock beside him.

The detective looked into William’s eyes. They were pure crimson, of a shade reminiscent of fresh blood. Despite the fact that they were allies, a chill ran down his back, and Sherlock felt as if his entire body was being wrapped in strings.

“…………”

Strangely enough, there was no need for words or gestures. Just by meeting his gaze, Sherlock sensed that William had devised a way out of this situation.

For the sake of his game, Alan had put up an elaborate facade of this scale. It stood to reason that the game itself would also contain some kind of trick. Although Sherlock more or less had an idea about it, William had already seen through the trick, and struck upon a plan to take advantage of it.

In that case, it was time to put the plan into action.

Sherlock gave him a nod, and resolved to pay attention to William’s every movement from now on.

Seeing the other man’s response, William dropped his gaze.

The preparations were complete. All that was left was to demonstrate that his solution was correct.

——It was time to show them a real plot.

A mathematics professor, as well as the heart of the “Lord of Crime”, spoken of with fear by the citizens of Great Britain —— William James Moriarty had set up a plan to manipulate all, including his ally Sherlock.

“I wish to go first…… Would that be alright?” he suggested, in a convincingly apologetic manner.

Playing along with William’s change in attitude, Sherlock deliberately adopted a frustrated tone as he replied.

“…… So you’re leaving me the worse spot. Guess it can’t be helped.”

He sat on the chair in front of him with a thud. Taking reference from his position, the other three men chose their seats at the table as well.

The sequence of players was: William, Alan, Sherlock, and Alan’s accomplice.

However, the sequence would not rotate until the fourth person was reached.

That was what Alan and his accomplices expected, and what William and Sherlock were sure of.

As the first player, William was handed the gun. He opened the cylinder. It looked well-used, with small scratches at four locations on the body and one location on the cylinder.

Having ascertained the state of the gun, he’d proceeded to take a bullet from the table and load it in, when Alan spoke up.

“By the way, it would obviously be against the rules to point the gun at anyone but yourself. I would caution you not to try anything untoward.”

Having heard his advice, William looked around the room and found Alan’s accomplices all turned towards himself, with small-scale guns at the ready. To go this far to maintain this unilateral pretence of a game…… William was, from the bottom of his heart, speechless.

Back to the game. He slowly aimed the revolver at his own temple, then intentionally took a few deep breaths, before pulling the trigger.

——A click.

William put the gun down with a long, thin exhale.

“Although there is only a one-sixth chance of death in the first round…… you have great courage, my opponent.”

As Alan showered him in praise, William handed over the gun and replied.

“However, it will be at least two-sixths in the next round. That is to say, at least a third of a chance that death will come for you.”

“Indeed, I am fully aware of that.”

Alan took the revolver and loaded his portion of bullets. There were two, which meant he would be firing a gun with three bullets in it.

“Hey, by doing that your chances will become one in two, you know.”

Sherlock looked at him with a puzzled expression. If Alan managed to survive this, Sherlock would be facing off with at least four bullets. The risk would be too great.

“Well then……”

Alan put the gun barrel to his head, and placed his finger on the trigger.

Sherlock held his breath as he looked on.

There was a dry click.

“Safe, it seems.”

Alan muttered in glee, having easily surmounted a one-in-two probability of death. Sherlock clenched his fists.

“Seriously?”

He looked aghast, the exact opposite of his conduct before the match. Alan revised his opinion of the two, especially that of Sherlock.

——As he’d suspected, their attitude up to now was just a bluff.

All humans would lose their composure when faced with their imminent death. That was true for detectives as well. Having decided that, Alan quietly placed the gun before Sherlock.

“It’s your turn next, Mr Holmes,” he said with a provocative smile.

Sherlock stared at the gun before him, with three bullets in it.

William, who was seated across him, tapped his index finger against the wooden surface as he spoke gravely.

“Mr Holmes, please don’t do anything rash. Allow me to advance a proposition. Two chambers— don’t fill them.”

After his strangely roundabout speech, William pressed his finger against the table.

“……Is that right. So that’s what you think, Liam,” Sherlock replied after a curious pause.

Alan was ready to burst out laughing from the look on their faces. These two seemed to be downright nervous. It was precisely this disoriented attitude which proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they had revealed their true characters.

“……Dammit.”

Alan’s plan had gone wrong. Sherlock spluttered out a single swear word, then began to tremble all over.

“Aah, that’s just great. Then I’ll do the same,” he spat.

With excessive violence, Sherlock loaded two more bullets into the revolver. Watching the detective ignore William’s advice, Alan cautiously tried to explain the high risk of his outburst.

“Are you absolutely sure? With that, your chances are now five in six. It would be odd for you not to get shot. To tell you the truth, we do not want anyone to die. As such, if you were to stay your hand and admit defeat——”

“Shut up. I won’t surrender at any cost.”

However, no matter how Alan tried to persuade him, Sherlock showed no sign of stopping.

“Are you crazy, Sherlock Holmes……”

Alan unwittingly let out a word of sincere amazement.

Indeed, if he managed to come out alive, the next player would be left with a fully loaded revolver. At that point, the duo’s victory would be secured. The chances of that happening were one in six. It was not exactly impossible.

However, any normal person would flinch from the five-in-six chance of death. Perhaps not, if one had nothing to lose, but this man had already built a reputation and gained the public’s trust as a detective. Having known the fear of loss, Sherlock’s choice was not one Alan could easily accept.

——But his desperation had worked against him.

Yet on one hand, due to a certain reason, Alan knew for a fact that the gun wouldn’t fire. Moreover, he also realised that at this stage, his side had lost all hope of winning the game.

Right as his enemy had sunk into disappointment, Sherlock swiftly finished his preparations and pulled the trigger with all his might.

“…………”

The result was—— no shot.

The room became enveloped in silence. William remained quiet, while Alan was silenced from the frustration that his plan had failed.

“……So things like that do happen, huh.”

Amidst the jumble of everyone’s thoughts, the first person to speak was the very man who had surmounted a five-in-six chance of death.

At first, Sherlock appeared to be staring into space in sheer relief. Then he yelled at the fact that the game had ended with their victory.

“All right! With that, the next guy will have to use all six bullets! Since he would definitely get shot, it’s our win! We did it, Liam!”

He stood up from his seat in pure excitement and raised a fist to William across him. To that, William responded with a joyous smile.

Immediately after that, the gentlemen in the room began clapping in unison.

“Wonderful. Both of you possess a rare courage. I was thoroughly moved.”

Although he’d suffered defeat, Alan wore an indiscriminately cheerful expression as he heaped praise on the duo. While this aroused William’s suspicion, he followed Sherlock and rose from his seat.

“It’s our victory, so please proceed to release this young man——”

“——With that, let’s move on to the next game.”

Footnotes:

[1] The revolver looks something like this: Wikipedia

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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lonelyboxpet · 3 years

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little wolf

chapter nine: the pet shop

cw: mentioned past whump, loads of fluff, Pet being so cute your heart might bust, past conditioning, muzzling, fear of abandonment

also Pet finally gets a name in this one!!

tagging: @whumpthisway @carolinethedragon @thehurtsandthecomfurts @oracle-of-maybe @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @shiningstarofwinterfun @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @profesional-idiocy @flower-whump

Javier still hasn't given the wolf a name.

But Pet didn't seem to mind - it always looked like it was gonna melt when he called it "little one" or praised it, or just softly petted it. It still flinched every time he extended a hand, but it usually pressed its head into it afterwards. Well, he wasn't sure if it meant that little one was adjusting to him, or that it had just been taught to do so, but it felt nice anyways.

He found out that it was a female, well, probably a female. When he learned that, he started calling her "she". Pet seemed confused about it at first, but adjusted after some time. And after being called a "good girl" for the first time, she almost started weeping with joy. Javier was slowly teaching her to use her voice more, which always made her all anxious and terrified, but she tried her best to please him.

But it apparently wasn't good enough, she thought with her heart sinking when she saw what Master had in his hand.

,,I promise I'll take it off as soon as I can," said Master and held out the muzzle, ,,but we're going out today and sadly, you gotta wear this. If you want to, you can stay at home, but I would be glad if you came with me."

Pet softly whined. Of course it- she, she corrected herself, Master said it was a she - wanted to go with Master, it doesn't matter if she had to wear a muzzle, she´ll go with Master anywhere he wants.

Master's hands carefully slipped the muzzle on and secured it in place, making sure it's not too tight. She could still open its mouth slightly, to breathe, to whine, to … to talk, only if Master wants that, of course. He also put on her collar and a leash, checked if he hadn't forgotten anything, and they headed out.

Some people we're staring at Pet, obviously, but it wasn't that bad, especially if she lowered and pressed her wings into her sides, clinging to Master's leg like a shadow. They walked a few blocks, until Master stopped at a bus stop. His warm fingers brushed against Pet's fur and she pressed her head into his palm.

,,You're being so good," he praised her. ,,Now we're gonna take the bus. Just keep behaving as you do, alright? I trust you, little one, you can do this."

Pet nodded earnestly, but her stomach clenched. She never rode a bus before. What if she fuckes up? What if Master gets mad at it because she won't do as well as he wants? What if he just leaves it somewhere in this city and gets rid of it and it would have to live on the streets until someone has enough mercy to end its suffering and hit it with a car-

,,Look, the bus is here."

Pet flinched, snapping out of her thoughts. The bus stopped in front of them, a few people got out, and then Master pulled the leash to make her move. She got up quickly and shakily followed Master's steps.

He bought the tickets and hummed a quick "thank you" towards the driver, and then he started to walk through the confined corridor to find a seat. Pet accidentally brushed against someone and flinched away quickly, waiting for a hit that never came. Master climbed onto a seat and patted his leg, then pointed down to his feet. Pet hurried to obey, curling up under the seats, trying to make herself as small as possible.

The ride probably wasn't that long, but for Pet it seemed like ages. Finally, Master softly nudged it. ,,Hey little one, we're here."

The bus stopped and Javier got up, Pet at his heels. They got off and Pet looked around anxiously, her nose trembling as she sniffed all the new smells.

,,You were so good," smiled Master and he took off his headphones, leaving them around his neck, ,,was it too scary?"

Pet knew she shouldn't lie, but Master probably wanted to hear that the ride was alright, even though her heart was still racing from anxiety. She gulped and decided to risk it. She nodded shakily.

Master laughed and scratched her neck, smiling. ,,Well, you still did a great job, little one," he praised her and Pet purred softly. ,,Now, let's go."

Pet followed him, wondering what he wants to do and where are they going. Master stepped into some shop, holding the door for Pet to come in too, and she quickly slipped in. It smelled like leather, hay and dog food in here. There were cages and dog beds of all sizes, leashes hanging on the wall, bags of feed for all sorts of animals, regals with toys… Pet chirped in surprise and Master softly chuckled.

,,That's right, buddy."

He allowed her to shyly scurry over to the toy aisle. Pet carefully sniffed over the regals, looking in awe at all those chewing toys, squeaky ones, plushies and many more. Master couldn't help but chuckle a bit. She looked like a four-year-old in a toy shop.

,,You can pick whatever you want," he told her softly. ,,And how many you want. Well, I mean, don't make me buy this whole aisle for you, but, you know."

Pet looked at him with genuine tears in her eyes, wide and surprised and so full of gratitude. She quietly whined and softly nudged his leg with her muzzle, purring. He chuckled.

Pet wandered along the aisle and looked at all these toys, still in awe that she can really pick anything. She seemed interested in the squeaky ones, until she found out that they're really loud. She jumped up in the air, startled at the noise, and hurried to hide behind Master's legs, watching the squeaky rubber chicken with bristled fur and raised feathers, and Javier could laugh his ass off and thank gods he got it on a video.

It seemed that she really liked the plushies. One, a blue rabbit with soft plushy fur and a button nose, apparently really caught her eye, and Javier was prepared to buy it although it was a bit pricey, but then she noticed a box next to the aisle and went to look at it curiously. Javier raised his eyebrows and followed her.

The box had a sign on it that said "used toys - $1 each". It contained one broken squeaky duck, a ripped chewing toy, two old chewed up tennis balls and one smudgy, battered-looking plushie. It was supposed to be a sheep, Javier guessed, light blue and white, with a pink bow around its neck. One eye was missing and a piece of stuffing was showing through a tear in its stomach. Pet softly sniffed it, nudging it with its muzzle. Javier raised his eyebrows.

,,You sure?" he asked. ,,It's not in the best state, I would say. Don't you want a new, good one instead?"

Pet looked at him, nervously wrapping her tail around her legs, and then she forced herself to say the thought that popped in her head.

,,W- Well… N- Neither was- was I, am I r- right, M- Master? And- And you still… still kept m-me… right?"

Javier slowly breathed in through his nose and leaned back, smiling slowly.

,,That's true, little one," he nodded and ruffled her fur. ,,You're absolutely, absolutely right." Pet watched him anxiously.

,,So, this one?"

Pet beamed when he reached into the box and pulled the sheep out. She wagged her tail and tried to lick his hand in excitement. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she wanted to scream, but her throat was too tight. But Master figured out what she was trying to say and chuckled.

,,You're welcome, little one."

Pet softly took the toy and happily chirped, her tail wagging like crazy. Javier couldn't help but grin.

,,Now, to the collars," he ordered and brushed her back. ,,You gotta get a new one."

Pet trotted at his heels, her eyes fixed at the toy Javier tossed in the bag.

Javier stopped by the aisle, looking at all the different kinds of collars. The black, leather ones caught his eye. They looked nice and simple, sturdy, but not too heavy. He picked out one, with a silver tag attached to it, and looked at Pet. ,,What do you think, little one?” he asked.

Pet tilted her head and gave him a nod, wagging her tail. He grinned and ruffled her fur.

,,Good girl. Let´s get the tag and then we can go and pick some treats for you as well.”

He walked over to the machine to get the name imprinted on the tag and then he stopped awkwardly, remembering he still haven´t given Pet a name. He ran a hand through his hair. Fuck. He turned around at Pet, chuckling slightly.

,,Yeah, um… Any name suggestions?”

Pet softly nudged his hand. That probably meant that he was supposed to pick it out himself. Fuck, he sighed in his head again and took out his phone, ready to scroll through a damn name generator or something like that, when he noticed he had a message from Tee. He opened it.

Hey, have u named the wolf yet? I have a few suggestions, if you wont mind.

Dude, you´re an angel. I´m currently in the pet shop trying to figure out what to put on the nametag.

yeah, that sounds like u, idiot. anyways, here are a few cool names.

Javier sighed in relief when he saw the huge paragraph of names that Tee sent him. They were mostly something space-related, but also a few ones in Latin and some inspired by Greek, Norse, Roman and Egyptian mythology. He crouched next to Pet, scratching her neck with one hand, and scrolled through the suggestions.

He seriously considered naming her Fenrir, but it didn´t fit right, considering that Pet was the least intimidating winged wolf you´d ever meet. Most of the names were names of the stars, and he really liked those. He softly muttered the best ones under his breath to try them out.

,,Rhea… That sounds good… Polaris? Nah… Stella? Do you look like some basic ass white girl? Pfft… Oh, Sirius could do… Or maybe Altair? Altair…” He looked at Pet and scratched under her chin, watching her slightly close her eyes and tilt her head. ,,Altair… I like that one. What do you think, little one? Could you be Altair?”

Pet softly chirped, purring slightly, holding her new plushie with one paw protectively. Her ears flicked. She looked nervous, yes, but happiness was more visible. Altair. Yeah. That suited her.

,,Well, I hope people won´t think I named you after that dude from Assasin´s Creed,” Javier joked and got up, stretching his legs. ,,Let´s get the name tag printed.”

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

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Chapter Six (Jennifer Barkley x Reader)

Previous Chapter

The entire day, nay week leading up to Jen's arrival was fraught with tension. Time went all too quickly, yet dragged simultaneously. By Friday you were brimming with so much unnecessary energy that your productivity at work was comparable to that of Leslie, who's determination was currently your source of frustration. Had she not been so resolute about giving Jen a 'personal Pawnee tour', than you would've reunited at 5 rather than 9.

Admittedly, it was also your fault for not calling out her lengthy lie, but those extra four hours you had to suffer through were compensation enough.

In an attempt to pass the extra time, you tried to stay at work for longer, but Fridays were your half day and Ron demanded that you go home immediately, lest you do any extra government work. Reluctant to return to an empty house, you'd asked around if anyone wanted to hang out, and were met with a series of rejections.

Except for Ann, who upon being enlightened about the situation, insisted she help you get ready for your date (initially you refuted the title of 'date', but by the second hour of your evening it became tolerated). Her company, though unexpected, was more than welcomed. Having someone to share your excitement with made the increasing tension almost fun.

"Y/N?" Ann waved her hand in your line of vision, catching your attention. "We going in, or just spending the night in the car?"

"Don't tempt me." You muttered, grudgingly dragged out of your thoughts.

In front of you the queue to the The Snakehole Lounge was gradually growing. The sheer amount of people gathered outside was intimidating, so you dreaded to imagine how packed it'd be inside. Staying at home would've been preferable, but it seemed that time alone with Jennifer was not a luxury presently granted to you.

"Come on." Ann nudged you with her elbow. "You've been going on about this all day and now you're going to wuss out?"

You twisted round to face her, illuminated by the flickering multi-coloured lights beaming out the club's windows. She was watching you closely, trying to gauge how you felt based off expression alone. Despite all that was rushing through your mind, you were at a loss for words. How could you even begin to convey what you were currently feeling?

"Stop overthinking it." She said. "There's no way of knowing what'll happen when you see Jennifer again, but only you can change that, so just roll with it."

You paused to consider her suggestion, coming to the conclusion that she was more observant than you gave her credit for.

"You're right." You admitted, grateful that she'd knocked some sense into you. "Thanks." Awkwardly, you leant across the centre console to hug her. You didn't know Ann all too well, but needed some way of showing gratitude for her sensibility.

"This is nice." She relaxed into the embrace, then unwound an arm to glance at her watch. "But we're five minutes late so I'm pretty sure Leslie will be sending out a search party soon."

You chuckled, separating from Ann to glance at the building once more. Jen was somewhere inside waiting for you. She'd voluntarily returned to Pawnee, and to one of its less than fine establishments of all places, just because she wanted to see you again. The very notion had your heart racing.

"I'm ready."

---

The atmosphere of the club was as intense and unruly as expected. By the time you'd adjusted to the blinding lights and deafening music, Ann had already slipped away, replaced by Tom.

"Welcome this evening's esteemed VIP." He thrusted a disturbingly bright neon beverage into your hand. "Drink up."

"What is it?"

"Sweetums Fizz. My go-to drink for when I'm tryna get lucky." He winked. "But if it doesn't work out, feel free to give her my number."

Coming from Tom, that was the closest you would get to his blessings. So, unenthusiastically you took a sip of the dreadfully sweet drink , screwing up your face as you forced it down. Trying your best not to grimace at the taste, you smiled at him in thanks before he dispersed into the mass of people.

Next to approach was Leslie, who engulfed you in a crushing hug while spewing unintelligible nonsense about her trip. Usually her overly affectionate manner was too much, but this time you pulled her closer. If all went well tonight than you would be forever indebted to her.

Removing yourself from her grip, you interrupted her endless talk. "As much as I'd love to hear about Washington," You yelled over the obnoxiously loud music playing. "I can't hear a word your saying."

"Right." She nodded. "Wrong time, wrong place." There was a pause as the both of you were happy enjoying each others company. Since Jen's exit, Leslie had been so supportive and you'd missed her while she'd been gone.

Although, now wasn't the time for acknowledgements. "Have you seen Jen anywhere?"

"Oh, yeah." Leslie swivelled around and gestured in a general direction. "I think she said something about staying near the fire escape. Said this entire building was probably a hazard."

"That sounds like her." You grinned, spotting the green glowing fire exit sign. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it." She patted your back, smiling reassuringly as you shuffled past.

Navigating through the crowd while keeping an eye on your target was a challenge. Several people bumped into you, their drink nearly spilling as they pushed past without an apology. However, nothing else mattered as you drew closer to the sign. Nothing else mattered except finding Jen.

Only she wasn't there.

As you struggled through the final row of people, you were met with yet another group of strangers. You sighed, absentmindedly swirling your glass as you resigned to return to Leslie. You then raised it to drink while turning round, though the necessary libation never reached your lips as you collided with someone.

The casualty gasped, stepping back as the cocktail spilled down the front of their dress.

"Shit." You froze, surveying the damage. "I'm so sorry-" You finally glanced up to face the woman and apologise again, but halted upon realisation.

Of course it was Jennifer. You just couldn't catch a break.

"I was going to surprise you, but looks like you got there first." She joked, scanning the vicinity for any kind of napkin. You joined the search, eventually spotting a couple abandoned on a table.

"Again, I am so sorry." You repeated, watching as she scrubbed at the stain. The attempt was futile as it didn't take long for the paper to be completely soaked through, and with little improvement to her dress. "Come on." You grabbed hold of her hand as she discarded the napkins, eager to try and improve this disaster of an event.

You maneuverer through the club with much difficulty while dragging Jennifer, who had an iron grip on your hand. Invigorated by the embarrassment, you arrived at the bathroom a mere minute later, all but shoving her inside one of the cubicles. Under the blaringly bright lighting you could assess the damage in greater detail.

"You know what?" She casually leant against the wall, waving her finger around. "I'm having some serious Deja-vu right now." You looked at her questioningly, pleased to see she didn't look too upset with the state of her dress. "Us together in a public restroom, you staring at my chest..."

You scoffed, reaching past her to grab the toilet paper. "Don't flatter yourself." You wrapped several layers around your hand, creating a makeshift towel. "Completely different circumstances."

"Same outcome though?" She raised an eyebrow suggestively, taking the bundle of paper from you.

"We'll just have to wait and see."

"I think you owe me." She scrunched up her face. "Or is throwing your drink over someone a traditional Pawnee welcome? Because that would explain the mess back there. Pretty sure every surface was sticky."

"Maybe you should wear one of those plastic ponchos next time." You muttered, nervously fidgeting with your hands.

The familiar anxiety from earlier seemed to have reappeared, you were unable to drag your eyes away from where they were fixated . Under the sobering bathroom light, everything had suddenly become very real. It had been years since you'd pursued any kind of serious relationship, and Jen was hardly the easiest person to start with. You tried to think about what Ann would say if she were here.

Probably something astute like "All the best things in life are worth fighting for." Too cheesy.

It'd be more "Nothing good comes out of running away from what you want, even if it's hard." Not inspirational enough.

Possibly "With great effort comes great gain." Nope. You'd definitely plagiarised that one from somewhere.

Maybe she'd-

"Y/N?" Jen ducked into your line of vision, bringing you back to reality. "Lost you there for a second." She smiled cautiously, resting a hand against your arm as if tethering you to the present.

"Sorry. I was thinking about something a friend said." You admitted sheepishly, placing your hand atop of hers. "Or would say if she were here."

"Oh yeah?" She carelessly threw the wad of paper behind, her full attention now on you. "And what would she say?"

You'd finally settled on what Ann would suggest. She'd say "Kiss her, idiot."

And you did.

#jennifer barkley #jennifer barkley x reader #jennifer barkley imagine

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

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<3<3<3

masterlist - ao3 - day four - day six

<3<3<3

The stupid beads on her stupid headdress dangle over her eyes and Elide angrily bats them away, her other hand white-knuckled in the heavy, ruby-red skirts of her dress.

She stalks through the circus grounds, anger and hate nearly sparking from her eyes. Because of their cover, Lorcan’s taken to bracing Elide’s ankle constantly, but her gratitude for it and her growing affection for the female cannot placate her now.

It’s the third night in a row that Elide’s customers at the oracle’s tent have been driven off to see Lorcan’s performance, and Elide has reached her breaking point.

The female is doing it to annoy her, she just knows it. She will not crack and pretends to hate it, pretends to not know that Lorcan craves her attention.

On the other side of the grounds they’ve claimed is Lorcan’s clearing. The crowd is too thick for Elide to push her way through, so she climbs onto a barrel for a vantage point.

Lorcan’s hatchet and dagger are gleaming arcs of light as she fights the foolish man who thought he could best her. A line, near a mile long, snakes its way around. Elide doesn’t understand mortal men and their fascination with proving their power over women and females. She marvels at their confidence, when it seems as though Lorcan is hardly breaking a sweat and the bored expression on her harsh face clearly shows that this is nothing but play to her, not even challenging enough to be considered training.

She whirls and spins, always getting the best of her opponent, who stumbles around after her, trying to get a single hit.

It’s beautiful, the way Lorcan moves, each move effortless and deliberate. The way her hair shifts like rustling grasses on a flat, open plain, not once getting caught on her opponent’s rusty sword.

Then, in a flurry of motion that has Elide’s brows lifting and heat rising to her cheeks, Lorcan’s contender is tripped and his back slams into the hard dirt, where wild grasses used to grow. The tip of Lorcan’s hatchet presses into his flabby neck and Elide stares, her eyes glassing over as she watches the vein in his neck pump rapidly with his racing pulse.

Slowly, she wanders her eyes up the weapon and Lorcan’s arm, tracing the lines of toned muscle visible through the shirt that clings to her sweaty, glowing skin.

“And the winner is Lorcan!” Nic announces, eagerly stepping forward to triumphantly lift Lorcan’s hand. Unlike before, his eyes don’t stray to the precarious neckline of Lorcan’s open shirt. The still-red slice beneath his left eye is a warning to others, of what will happen should one forget their place.

The disgust on Lorcan’s face is unmasked and she snatches her hand back, baring her non-human teeth. Wisely, his face paling, Nic steps away, self-consciously lifting his hand to the cruel wound that still smarts.

Good.

Lorcan looks elsewhere, possibly to her next challenger, but her eyes slide to Elide. She reads the angered desire in them and smirks, her steps swaggering as she returns to her starting position.

It’s almost as if she expects Elide to sit and simper like the rest of her adoring public. Elide’s upper lip curls with annoyance and she gets down from the barrel, her skirts dragging on the ground. She glares down at them and lifts them up, wanting to shred them to pieces.

Instead of doing what she wishes, Elide leaves, her back straight and chin lifted in defiance.

She returns to her tent, where no one awaits. Hardly anyone is by this end anyway, all drawn to the strongwoman’s show. Elide rips the sign down and aggressively shoves the heavy curtains aside as she stomps inside.

The first second that she’s alone and hidden from the world, Elide yanks the headdress off and throws it away. She pushes her hair back from her sweaty forehead and sighs, slowly walking to the rickety card table erected in the middle of the tent.

Elide takes a cloth from the table and walks to the corner, where there is a collection of cushions and pillows to recline against. She remains standing and picks up the pitcher of water. Elide dunks her cloth in it and uses the sodden material to wipe the thick layer of cosmetics from her face. Every evening, Molly and Ombriel insist on pasting it across Elide’s face. She hates how thick it feels on her skin.

Face cleansed, Elide pulls the pins from her hair, letting the thick tresses, rich and dark like cocoa, fall around her shoulders. She scratches her scalp, easing the pain from her roots. Then, Elide sits, slowly lying down and looking at the candles that surround her.

She tracks the wax drops falling down the sides, spilling over the cheap candle holders, as she waits for Molly to shout that the carnival has ended. Then, she’ll return to the too-small tent and wait for Lorcan. Neither have ever mentioned how Elide cannot fall asleep until Lorcan’s arrived.

After a few minutes, when Elide has still not heard Molly’s shout, someone shoulders through the tent flaps. She sits up, expecting Ombriel here for the money, but sees Lorcan, bare from the hips up, save for the tight chest wraps she dons every morning. Elide rolls her eyes and says drily, “You know that Molly will be begging you to stay.”

Lorcan walks until she’s reached the back of the tent and picks up Elide’s water jug. She drinks deeply and accidentally sloshes some of the cool liquid down her chin. Transfixed, Elide watches a bead of water trail down the line of Lorcan’s throat, catching on her collarbone.

Her cheeks heat again.

“Nic cannot wait for us to go,” Lorcan counters, putting the jug down and standing above Elide with a hand on her hip.

Elide rolls her eyes again and crosses her arms, jerking her chin towards the absence of a shirt. “Did you sell your shirt too, then?”

The grin that slices across the death-blessed Fae’s face can only be described as wicked. “Sure did. Got fifteen coppers from a farmer’s wife for it.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“What, the fact that it was a woman?”

“No,” Elide says, narrowing her eyes, “the fact that someone would pay for your sweaty clothes.”

For some reason, Lorcan takes Elide’s engagement in the conversation as an invitation and sits down, propping up cushions to lean against. She tucks her hands behind her head and shrugs, “Money is money.”

Elide eyes her, “You don’t seem so…”

“Irritated?”

“Murderous.”

Lorcan hums, “Besting thirty men and having fifteen of their wives offer a spot in their beds does that to a person.”

Elide digs her nails into her upper arms hard enough to leave crescent marks. She can’t explain the feeling that shakes her body and makes her want to snarl in the face of those women. “Then why aren’t you with them.”

Lorcan surveys the candles, the carpets, the pillows and cushions. Her eyes don’t miss the tight grip of Elide’s hands and something like satisfaction flashes across her gaze. “I do not care for mortal women who like to use me to explore their desires. I am not a… plaything or an experiment.” She smoothly gets to her feet and picks up the cloth Elide discarded earlier. One side is smeared with a white paste of cosmetics, so she flips it and uses it to wipe the grime from her skin. “You know, I heard a great many men tonight speaking of the things they’d like to do to you. Why not have your fun with them?”

The thought of any man, but especially the ones who leered at her this evening, touching her skin… their bodies on hers… Elide has to fight the shudder that runs through her and the urge to crawl out of her skin.

She drops her hands into her lap and looks down at them, idly fingering a rip in the cheap fabric that chafes her smooth, creamy skin. “I do not want them.”

Lorcan retakes her seat, but she’s closer to Elide now. Close enough that Elide can see the hints of smile lines on her cheeks. “Do you prefer women?”

“No. I do not ‘prefer’ women.” Elide looks up, like recognising like. “I do not care for men. At all. Not in that way.” Hardly in any way.

“Neither do I,” Lorcan says, her voice almost… soft.

A small smile twists Elide’s plush lips, “I knew that. You… do not hide it well, if that is what you’re trying to do.”

Surprisingly, Lorcan laughs. It’s nothing more than a dry chuckle that hisses through her teeth, but it stirs something warm in Elide’s belly. “I suppose I do not. I no longer care to have the patience one needs to deal with them.”

“Did you ever?”

“No,” Lorcan laughs, again.

Elide decides she likes it when Lorcan laughs, and she wants to hear the rasping sound for the rest of her days. Carefully, with fear of rejection, Elide moves closer. Lorcan is silent, her dark eyes tracking Elide with some sort of warmth.

It’s- it’s too much. Elide looks down again, shifting her skirts. Her ankle is exposed, Lorcan’s magic snugly wrapped around it. She stares at it a moment, her fingers twitching.

“Does… does it hurt?” The words sound unnatural, like Lorcan has never asked that.

Elide looks up, “No. Not really. It’s… it’s just sore.”

Lorcan frowns, glaring at her ankle. Around it, her power slithers, holding it tighter. “You told me the magic helped. Why does it hurt.”

“You know,” Elide teases, “that’s supposed to be a question.”

Lorcan glares at her, utterly unimpressed by her avoidance.

Elide sighs and rolls her eyes, “The brace helps, but… the bones healed improperly. No matter what, it will always hurt a little bit. I hardly notice it anymore.”

The fierceness eases from her face, but there’s a different anger that fills her gaze. Lorcan studies her ankle and touches it with a gentle finger. “It… hurts most of all here.” The slivers of cool, dry death move to apply more pressure. A slight twinge eases a bit of the stiffness. “And here.”

She fixes everything she can, and Elide is… it’s far lighter. She smiles and looks up at Lorcan, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Lorcan says, silently looking at Elide.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because. I want to kiss you.”

A sly brow arches up, “Really? Is there a… reason you haven’t yet?” Elide tilts closer, “Are you frightened?”

Lorcan snarls and slides her hand to the side of Elide’s neck, stroking her thumb over the corner of Elide’s jaw. She’s almost… gentle when she kisses Elide.

The smaller woman grins and grazes Lorcan’s bottom lip with her teeth. She licks into Lorcan’s mouth, slightly out of practice. In her teenage years, she had her fun and filth with the maid girls, or the laundress’ daughter who delivered her sheets.

At Morath… Manon. But she’s never truly wanted a person as much as Lorcan.

The demi-Fae cups the back of her head and twists her onto her back, leaning between her legs. She controls it, kisses Elide slow and deep.

Elide sighs softly and gives in, arching her back into the female above her. Lorcan’s fingertips drag down her spine and her hand grabs Elide’s backside.

Lorcan slides her lips down Elide’s jaw and her canines nearly breaking the skin beneath it. Elide’s gasp is caught in her throat and then Lorcan stops. She lifts her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nic.”

A whip of Lorcan’s magic snaps out and strikes through the heavy tent curtains. There’s a scuffing and the scent of piss and… fear, so thick that Elide nearly gags on it.

Then, a heavy body thumps on the ground. Lorcan slowly rises to her feet, still touching her hand to Elide’s. “He’s dead.”

Elide stands and places her hand on Lorcan’s jaw, turning her face back, “Then it’s done.”

Lorcan wraps her arms around Elide’s waist and dips her dramatically, catching her lips again. She’s not sure she’ll stop craving the taste and feel of it.

After a long, lazy moment, Elide tilts her chin away. “We have our own tent. A private tent.”

Those dark, depthless eyes glitter, “Is that so.”

“Yes,” she grins. “And, just so I know, is this… a one night tryst for you?”

“I’m yours for however long you wish.”

Elide traces her fingertip over the dip in Lorcan’s collarbones, “If I wanted you for longer than one night?”

“Yes, even then.”

“Months?”

“Even then.”

“Years?”

“Even then.”

Elide kisses Lorcan once more, “And if I wished for forever?”

Lorcan thinks for a moment, her lashes brushing against Elide’s high, rosy cheeks. “Especially then.”

<3<3<3

an: i. am. in luv with them. im obsessed.

@ladyverena @ladywitchling @mythicaitt @sassyhobbits @darklesmylove @julemmaes @letstakethedawn @cicada-bones @highladyofthegentry @darlinminds @nahthanks @sjmships @eyllweambassador @flamingveritas @adelzd-bookblr @somewhatdynamite @woollycat22 @firestarsandseneschals @the-regal-warrior

#femslash february #fem!elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #fem!lorcan salvaterre #isa writes lesbian shit #nalgenewhore

29 notes · View notes

definitelyseven · 4 years

Text

liability | five

summary: reporter meets mafia boss, Park Jinyoung

“Now, where were we?” Jinyoung says pulling you back in his arms, kissing you again. His kisses made your heart race and your body hot. He held you close so that there was no space between the both of you as he roamed his hands down your back. You were careful not to hurt his wound as you wrapped one of your legs around him. Jinyoung pulls aways from your lips and makes his way to your jaw, slowly kissing it until he reached your neck. You felt his tongue on your neck, his lips moving against your skin as he gently sucks on your sweet spot making you moan. He works on your sweet spot for awhile before moving to your ears, sucking on your earlobe, nibbling on it. You moan again. Jinyoung reaches for your robe, pulling it down your shoulders. You pull away from him. “What’s wrong?”

“I...,” you hesitated to speak. “We don’t really know each other.” His arms slip away from your waist, pulling away from you. “Is it really that hard to open up to someone?”

“You’re a reporter,” he said crossing his arms over his chest. You feel your heart sink to your stomach, instantly feeling your insides knot together. You were just a reporter to him, probably a girl that was easy to get in bed. I mean look at you, four days of knowing him and you’re already in his bed. You pulled away from him.

“Right...” you said letting out a soft sigh. “You should rest,” you choked up, getting off his bed.

“Y/N...” he calls out reaching for your hand. You move your hand away before he’s able to grab it and walked out of his room. Mark was still sitting outside. You tried to hide your tears and curse yourself for being so gullible, so easy.

“Mark?” you called out, swallowing your tears. He looks up at you. “You won’t lie to me right?”

“I have no reason to,” he says.

“Please let me know when I can leave. I want to go home,” you tell him before going back to your room. You didn’t realize how long you were sitting in your room until Mary came in with a tray of food.

“You didn’t come down for lunch or dinner. I was worried you’d be hungry,” she said placing the tray in front of you.

“Sorry, I lost track of time.”

“Did you and Jinyoung have a fight? He can be stubborn sometimes. Please be a little forgiving,” she begs for him.

“No, we didn’t fight. Mary,” you paused grabbing her hand. “We’re not a couple,” you clarified. You didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Don’t say that. Don’t break up over a stupid fight.”

“Mary, we’re not a couple,” you repeated calmly and slowly. “We’re not even friends technically. We just met,” you tell her. She nods, understanding. “Can I ask for a favor?” you asked. “I can’t leave until it’s safe. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to eat alone from now on,” she nods again before leaving you alone.

For the next few days, you mostly stayed in your room only leaving when you needed to get water or some fresh air and you managed to avoid Jinyoung well. You were bored, but it was still better than facing him. You had to stay away from him. You couldn’t fall into his trap; you couldn’t fall for him.

Sleep wasn’t getting any better either. You had nightmares every night, thinking about that night those men surrounding you and beating you. Every night you laid awake with the lights on, trying to get at least a couple of hours of sleep, but you couldn’t and soon got sick from the lack of sleep. Your body felt exhausted and numb, your head constantly ached. Tonight, you woke up from another nightmare. Your whole body was wet from sweating. You got up from the bed and went downstairs to get some water. The breeze hit your sticky skin making you shiver; your hands were shaking. As you were pouring yourself a glass of water, the lights turned on, scaring you and making you drop your glass of water.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” It was Jinyoung.

“It’s okay,” you said leaning down to pick up the shattered glass. Your eyes never meet his. You thought the feeling of your heart sinking to your stomach would disappear, but it doesn’t. It was still there. Everyday you hid in your room, you questioned why he had this affect on you. Did you have this affect on him? Did he miss being around you as much as you missed it?

“Don’t worry about that. I can get someone to clean it,” he said reaching for your hand to stop you from picking up the broken glass. “Your hands are cold,” he commented making you pull your hand away. You stood up feeling light headed. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you? No, I was getting out of your way like you wanted,” you retorted.

“That’s probably the best.”

“Okay,” you said trying to leave, but he grabs your hand again.

“Your hands are cold, but your sweating like crazy. Your lips are pale. You’re sick,” you tried to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you. “Can you please just let me take care of you?” he said through his teeth.

“Why do you even care?” He doesn’t answer you. Jinyoung picks you up off your feet and carries you upstairs. “Let me go!” you said wiggling your feet to get out of his grip. “Let me go!” you complained again. He doesn’t listen to you and brings you back to his room, setting you down on his bed.

“Don’t move,” he orders and for some reason you listen. He comes back with a damp towel and some medicine. Jinyoung wipes the sweat off your forehead, then your neck and arms. “Turn around, I’ll wipe your back.”

“No, it’s okay. I can take care of myself,” you said reaching for the towel in his hand.

“I am trying to protect you!” he unexpectedly shouts causing you to flinch. He drops the towel on the side of the bed and walks towards the window. Were you being too stubborn by refusing his help? You hesitated but got up to talk to him. “Don’t get up,” he says making his way back to you. His tone and demeanor had changed from before. It was softer and calmer. You listened to him and sat back down on his bed, lifting the blanket towards your chest. The both of you looked at each other.

“If I die, I want to know what I’m getting myself into,” you explained. “I’m not like the other girls. I can’t get in bed with someone I barely know,” you hoped he’d understand what you were hinting at. You hear him sigh as he gets in bed next to you. He slips one arm under the the nape of your neck and pulls you close to him, giving the crown of your head a light peck before speaking.

“If I tell you about myself, will you stop being a brat?”

“Possibly,” you smarted, making him chuckle.

“Park Jinyoung, 24 years old. You’ve already met my father, my mother doesn’t live with us. She hates the business we do and doesn’t want to be apart of it. I had a sister, but Mary probably told you already.” You lay your head on his chest as he continues to tell you about himself. “I never wanted to be part of the family business, that was my sister’s role before she died. She raised me and then the next day she was gone. I was only 12. I was devastated,” he choked up. You could hear his voice shake and wrapped your arms around his waist, comforting him. “I don’t have many friends, mostly business partners. Mark’s my best friend. I’ve never been in a serious relationship, never felt like I needed one,” his grip on your body tightened as if he was afraid to let you go. “I don’t have a favorite color, I don’t have any pets, I like to eat Korean food,” you looked up at him and covered his mouth with your hands.

“I want to get to know you, not have you list out things about your life,” you sat up, facing him. “Why are you kicking people out of their homes?” he looks at you, studying your facial expression. “Are you a bad person?”

“Yes, I’m a bad person. I’m not going to lie to you and I understand if you want to leave.”

“I don’t know you well enough to judge if you’re a bad person,” you said honestly. “Why are you kicking people out of their homes? You say your a bad person, but I don’t see that. You compensate them well for their houses and for the trouble.”

“Before my sister died, she was working really hard to change our dirty business into something clean. I’m finishing what she started.”

You were happy that he was finally opening up to you, but you didn’t want to push him and ask too many questions. You even felt touched by his sincerity. As a way of showing your gratitude, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “What do you want to know about me?”

“Anything you want to tell me,” he says with his arms still wrapped tightly around you.

“Y/N, 23 years old. My parents passed away when I was young and my aunt raised me until she passed away last year. I know how it feels to lose someone you love. I’ve lost three,” you said, laying back down on his chest and listening to his heart beat. “I live by myself and you already know I’m a reporter.”

The both of you talked till you couldn’t stay awake anymore. You learned more about him tonight than all the nights you’ve spent with him. You wanted to get to know him more, but you were finally able to get a couple more hours of sleep; something you haven’t had in awhile. You felt oddly calm and safe in his arms; there were no more nightmares.

You felt Jinyoung’s body shift behind you, pulling you closer to his chest, giving your shoulder blade a peck. You hummed in satisfaction. “Good morning,” he said, voice groggy. You don’t respond, only grabbing his arms that was already around you, closer. He gets the hint and holds you tighter against his body. “Time for me to wake up.”

“Why?” you whined turning your body to face him.

“Trust me baby. I want to stay in bed with you all day, but I have to get back to work,” he said leaning down to kiss you.

"Then stay,” you whined again, leaning up to kiss him. He laughs at you.

“You avoided me all week and now you can’t stay away,” you rolled your eyes and pushed him away from you, but he pulls you back into his arms. “I’m kidding,” Jinyoung jokes leaning down to kiss you again. He continues to kiss you, pulling away slightly after speaking each word. “I... can’t... get... enough... of... your... lips,” he says laying one last kiss on your lips. You smiled at the cute gesture. “Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll be here,” you said having nowhere to really go.

When you got the call from Jinyoung telling you he was on his way home, you were just about done with your story. You decided to go downstairs to help Mary with dinner. You asked if you could cook Jinyoung’s steak and she warned you that he was picky about his food. You were cutting up the garlic and rosemary for the steak when you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

“Are you cooking for me?” Jinyoung whispers in your ear before giving your cheek a peck.

“Mmm...” you said turning to face him. “Wash up and get ready for dinner.” Jinyoung gives you another peck on the cheek and then your shoulder before heading upstairs.

You were just about done, but Jinyoung still hasn’t come down yet so you went upstairs to look for him.

“Jinyoung...” you called out. He was sitting at the desk in front of the laptop, looking pissed as ever. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?" he repeats after you. You could tell his was angry. Jinyoung turned the laptop towards you. “You wrote about me,” he spat.

“Jinyoung...” you called out. “I can explain.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “EXCLUSIVE STORY: Inside the Life of Mafia Leader Park Jinyoung.”

“Jinyoung, please,” you said walking towards him. He slams his hands on the table and knocks the laptop onto the floor.

“I should’ve never fucking trusted you! I told you everything and you go behind my back and write this shit!” he screams at you, his face turning red. You’ve never seen him this angry.

“I was never going to publish it!” you screamed back.

“But you wrote it! You thought about it!” he said making his way towards you. You were scared. “I should’ve never trusted a reporter. I should’ve never saved you,” he spatted, grabbing you and shoving you towards the bookshelf. His hands gripped onto your shoulders tightly. Mark and 5 other body guards came rushing in the room.

You admit you wanted to write about Jinyoung at first. He was a guarantee story success; you were sure it was going to be a hit. But after last night, you erased that thought in your head. Suddenly, he felt more important than getting an exclusive. If it wasn’t for your boss calling early this morning and threatening you to write about him or get fired, you wouldn’t have written the story, or even thought about it. After you wrote the story, you immediately felt guilty and sent your boss a resignation letter. He was more important and you need Jinyoung to know that, but he wouldn’t listen.

“Jinyoung, let her go,” Mark said tugging on his arm to let you go.

“Jinyoung, please...” you sobbed. The moment you finished writing, you regretted it. You reached for his hand but he flicks your hand away. “Please..” you begged.

“She’s leaving,” Jinyoung tells Mark as he lets go of you. You knew he wouldn’t listen to you. “If you ever write about me, I will make you pay,” he said, eyes red. You could see the veins in his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you said before leaving the room. Mark escorts you to the car that was waiting outside. “Mark...” you called.

“Goodbye Y/N,” clearly he didn’t want to hear your explanation either. You continued to sob as you got in the car.

This might be the last time you ever see him.

167 notes · View notes

fieryfantasybooklover · 3 years

Text

Scythes And Stories - Chapter 6 - Twists Of Fate

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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

“So you’re telling me that… you are the escaped princess of Solis?” Alastair said slowly, trying to parse out the truth of the words. Ariadne nodded. “And that this is the infamous assassin, the Lady of Death?” Thomas continued, cutting his gaze towards Anna. “I’m flattered that you’ve heard of me, all the way here in Luna.” Anna chimed in. She was currently sprawled across the couch of the boat’s hold, playing with a bone dagger. “Of course we’ve heard of you. You’re either more stupid than you look, or truly ignorant of how much you’ve been employed by the Luna Council.” Alastair smirked, clearly reveling in Anna’s widened eyes and shocked expression. “I’m going to continue this discussion, because obviously these two nitwits wouldn’t bother too.” Cordelia interjected, grinning in response to Alastair’s glare. “If I am correct in my assumptions, you are Lucie Herondale.” she said, gesturing towards Lucie. “That is correct.” Lucie said, mock-curtseying. “So you must be the mysterious and handsome stranger she eloped with.” Cordelia finished, raising her eyebrows at Matthew. “That would be the truth. I am so very pleased that the general knowledge of me is my dashingness.” Matthew said, tipping his hat. “Ignore him.” Lucie stage whispered. “His ego’s gone to his head a bit of late.”

“Well. This is certainly news to me. Everyone thinks you are dead, Princess, and nobody knows the whereabouts of you, my lady.” Thomas said, standing from his seat. “I do wonder what casualties shall befall me if my husband and I decide to give you shelter.”

“Oh I swear we’re nothing but the utmost fun.” Anna said with a smile as sharp as swords. “I can vouch for her!” Matthew chimed in, mischief in his eyes. Ariadne and Lucie sighed in unison as Cordelia snickered. “Yes but they don’t trust either of you, so shut up.” Lucie said, laughing. “All we ask for is shelter for a bit. The world outside is quite chaotic and it would be good to take a breath.” Ariadne said, eyes pleading. “We will take you in.” Thomas finally agreed. “Only if you promise to participate in our drinks night.” James said, mock seriousness in his voice. “You’ll have a far harder time convincing those two to stay away now that you’ve mentioned it.” Ariadne said, gesturing towards Matthew and Anna. “Now, if you wish it, we will retire to our chambers and cause you no more trouble.”

“Is there anything else we can get you while you stay here?” Thomas asked them as they strolled through the city streets. The brick roads were baked in the heat, worn by the feet of a thousand steps. Spices laced the air - nutmeg, basil, and fresh fruit. Thomas had quite quickly fallen into the role of gracious host as Alastair and Anna bantered and the others chattered. “Not unless you can bring back my long lost brother from the abyss.” Anna answered, and silence fell. Cordelia turned to Anna however, brows furrowed. “What does your brother look like?” She inquired, concentration deepening as she gazed at Anna as if she were a puzzle. “Well, he has purple eyes. And he would be around my age, maybe a bit younger.” Anna answered, clearly baffled. James stopped walking right in the middle of the street as him and Cordelia made eye contact. Thomas and Alastair also exchanged gazes. “Is there anything you four would like to share, or are you going to continue to communicate telepathically for the rest of the day.” Anna asked, shifting. She was quite unfamiliar with the warm blooming in her chest like a rose, shining and glowing like a weapon fresh off the forge. It was hope, hope that maybe she wasn’t crazy for the first time in her life.

Shaking herself, Cordelia turned to Anna. “Unless there’s a large amount of purple-eyed teenage fugitives on the run for our kingdom…”

“We have your brother. He arrived just a few days before you. Shivering and sweating and grinning like a banshee. He also claimed to have murdered the king of Solis. On that precedent alone, we allowed him to stay. He’s in his quarters now.”

Anna froze. She could feel the frost of shock spreading slowly over her skin as she struggled to form words. After all these years, all this time, she found him. Her brother with his love of science and the rare, genuine smile that always summoned a smile from her in return. A warm hand slipped into hers. Turning her head, Anna’s eyes met Ariadne’s. The silent encouragement in Ariadne’s eyes nearly brought Anna to tears. “May I- May I see him?” Anna asked tentatively, afraid some cruel god would snatch him away before she could see him. “Of course you can.” Thomas said, understanding in his tone. “Just this way. We’ll arrive back at the castle in approximately 15 minutes. From there, I’ll give you a guide to his rooms.”

“Thank you so much.” Anna whispered. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

“None needed, Lady of Death. Everyone deserves loved ones to hold close. Sadly, sometimes the world has other plans. We’re just glad you made your way back to the hearth.” Alastair said quietly, and the others all nodded. From that point on, they were all friends. After all, a friendship forged when you are the version of yourself you hate to show are the strongest friendships of all.

“Mr. Christopher, you’ve a visitor.” the guide called, knocking on the heavy wooden door embossed with a crescent moon. “They may come in.” Came the response from within the room, and Anna’s eyes widened. If there had been any doubt in her mind, none was left now. The decades passed and sands of time could not erase the sound of her brother’s voice from her head. Anna opened the door, and slipped inside, closing it behind her. The boy on the bed looked up, hair messed over his eyes and papers strewn over every possible surface. It didn’t take long for the question in his face turned into confusion, then shock, then wonder. All in the span of just a few moments. “Christopher?” Anna breathed, not daring to take a step forward lest he should evaporate like a mirage. “... Anna? Is that you?” Christopher replied, voice also quiet and strung through with lights of amazement. “Yes, it’s me. It’s Anna!” she replied, joy cracking her face. Christopher’s face morphed again then, and he stood and strode forward. Finally, after so many miles of pain and oceans of blood and battle, they were here. Embracing in a hug and words left unsaid flew, the pair had found each other again.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too! I thought I’d never see you again….”

“I thought the same! They took me away, and I wasn’t able to look for you.”

“That is ok. I doubt you would recognize the me you found anyway.”

“The same could be said of me. It took me years of planning and work, but I finally struck back.”

“And I am more proud of you than I could say. I too have blood on my hands, but I hope that staining them deeper won’t ever be necessary again. If needed, I will fight to make it so.”

Drawing back, Anna examined Christopher and smiled deeply. “You’ve grown into a fine young man. A far throw from the gangly boy I knew. If only mother and father could see you now…” Anna trailed off as a shade of grey permeated the otherwise yellow bright moment. “And you as well.” Christopher said, his wonder saving the memory. “You’re glowing. You look happy. Content.” he added, grinning. “I am… I’ve found a life worth fighting for. But more about me later. We have much catching up to do, dear brother.” Dropping into the armchair by the fireplace, Anna relaxed. Christopher sat on the bed, only succeeding in making his piles of sketches even more messy. “Tell me. What have you been doing these past years we’ve been apart? I am quite certain it’s a grand tale.”

“Now I must confess I’m dying to know how you ended up on the run with the most infamous assassin in five kingdoms.” James said to Ariadne as the two, accompanied by Alastair, Thomas, and Cordelia sat in the royal common room. It was a set of large and comfortable rooms for the royal family to relax and have fun in. Ariadne chuckled quietly, thinking over the chaos of the tale herself. “I couldn’t hardly put it into words for you myself. I had been long since questioning my parents’ actions and the way they behaved around anybody without a large purse or a legitimate heir. I just didn’t know what it was I could do about it. I trained myself, yes. In bladework and poisons and a myriad of other things. But these skills languished in my arsenal, so to speak. I was not allowed to do anything I loved, contained in the palace and all it’s parties.” Ariadne paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The day they forced me into an arranged marriage with somebody I despise was my breaking point. Anna appeared, and it was like she was the escape I was looking for. The escape dressed in black with a dagger, that is.”

Cordelia’s thoughts raced, connecting the dots quickly and smothering her grin. The way Ariadne used Anna’s first name, how her eyes and voice softened at the mention of her, how she would always smile. The quick gazes and hidden laughs. Turning to James, she raised her eyebrows and nearly fell over laughing at his responding smirk. James was observant and had apparently also been quick to notice what she had. “I wish them all the happiness and wishes.” Cordelia vowed, before tuning her ears back into Ariadne’s story.

“So, I agreed to go with her. I set fire to the barracks before we joined up with Matthew and Lucie. Lucie was confined within a loveless marriage, so she was also eager to leave. Anna staged my death, and we set sail. Matthew delivered the note and… here we are.” Ariadne finished, leaninging back in her chair and smiling. “Not the most exciting tale in the books, but it’s my story, so I will cherish it within my heart.”

“On the contrary, I believed that story most riveting.” Cordelia piped up, leaning forward. “There remains only one question.” James said, standing. “Would you and Lady Anna be interested in joining us for dinner tonight? Christopher is also invited, of course”

“We would be most honored to have you.” Thomas added.

“I would be delighted to.” Ariadne smiled. “Anna is I’m sure still talking to Christopher, but when she returns to our chambers, I will extend the invitation.”

“Tell her there will be wine and games!” Alastair called to Ariadne as she exited. “I will tell her. I could never forgive myself and I doubt she would forgive me if she missed out on such an opportunity.”

Once Ariadne had vanished down the hall, the four sat in quiet. “I like her.” Thomas finally said, his voice betraying how deep in thought he was. “I do as well. I’m very glad she was able to find herself a place where she’s truly happy.” Cordelia added. “As much as I’d like to stay and gossip about our new arrivals, I’ve some matters to attend to.” Alastair said, standing. “I’ll come with you.” Thomas replied.

Sighing with a bit too much gusto to be believable, Alastair nodded assent. “I guess we will get these chores done quicker together.” he said, accepting Thomas’s extended hand. “Yes I’m sure that’s why.”

“O do shut up.” Alastair shot back, and soon their voices faded.

“Would you like to take a stroll with me, my fine warrior?” James asked Cordelia, eyes twinkling. “I would love to, James.” Cordelia replied, a small smile twisting her lips. “Well, then, let us go. The winding paths of the park await us.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Ariadne said as she flopped onto the bed of their quarters. Matthew and Lucie had been assigned a door across the hall. “Life does bring us much surprise.” Anna shot back, kicking off her boots. “Did you and Christopher have a pleasing chat?” Ariadne ventured cautiously. “We most certainly did.” Anna replied, slipping back into that soft smile. “He’s grown up so much, Ariadne. So much. And it hurts and heals my heart simultaneously to see it.” Anna said, much quieter this time. “I know you grieve for memories lost, and I understand it. It is right to feel pain, right to grieve. Just make sure you’re not missing out on a chance to make new memories while grieving the past.” Ariadne said, once again gently holding Anna’s hand. “What did I do to deserve you?” Anna asked. “You set me free.” Ariadne answered, and Anna grinned. “And I am very glad I did. Now, what’s this dinner party you mentioned?”

“Oh yes! We are invited to dinner with Cordelia, James, Thomas, and Alastair. Christopher will also be there I believe. Alastair requests I tell you that there will be wine and games.”

‘Well in that case, I’m in.” Anna said jokingly, and Ariadne laughed again, a musical sound to Anna’s ears. “In that case, I will see you in about a half-hour at the party.” Standing, Anna kissed Ariadne softly before breaking apart and bolting for the showers. Sighing and filled with happy butterflies, Ariadne also stood and began to change. “It’s the beginning of a new age. And I’ll be damned if I keep wearing the shackles I just escaped.”

“To new friends, and old. To shining futures and pasts laid to rest in unmarked graves. This is now, and it’s for living and love. I give thanks for the wondrous new souls we’ve met, and the tales they brought with them.” Thomas toasted, raising his champagne elegantly. Everybody else raised their glasses in silent succession, toasting to everything Thomas mentioned and more. And then, the party began. It was in the private royal dining room, and it came with a ballroom. Thomas and Alastair had invited some other close friends and family, and Cordelia and James had done the same. All had been instructed on the situation, and planned to be discreet. A large number of suits and dresses had been delivered to Anna, Ariadne, Matthew, and Lucie, along with a note saying they could choose any one of the options. The rooms were full of life, shining and glittering and shifting. Champagne sparkled and fragrant scents of roasted meats and delicate creamed desserts rose up. Lively violin music flowed from the ballroom, and each person was a vision in velvet and satin, a walking kaleidoscope of dancing and laughing and color. Anna and Ariadne danced, quick as quicksilver and breathless with happiness. Anna was wearing a finely cut suit of ebony and snow white, while Ariadne was resplendent in a twilight blue gown that sparkled with stars and twirled as she did. “You are as gorgeous as an angel.” Anna called as she twirled Ariadne. “And you look like a goddess sent to Earth.” Ariadne called back, cheeks flushed with the blush of life. “Oh stop I might actually blush for once.” Anna said, bringing Ariadne close before dramatically dipping her. “What a sight that would be.” Ariadne mocked, laughing. “Maybe someday, I’ll get to witness this amazing phenomena.”

“You can keep hoping, Princess.” Anna replied, laughing as Ariadne lightly smacked her. “I think I will. After all, we’ve got plenty of time.”

The previous song had ended with a dramatic flourish, paving the way for a slower and more romantic piece. Alastair and Thomas slowly danced, staring into each other’s eyes. “What a week it has been. And it’s only been the first week.” Thomas said as the pair revolved on the dance floor. “Indeed. It might be awhile before we have any semblance of peace again.” Alastair replied. “Even you can't deny that you like our newcomers.” Thomas snarked back, no true bite in his voice. “I do, much to my dismay. I can admit they are fun and Anna especially is very fun. At least she knows how to drink and have fun, unlike you.” Alastair shot back, chuckling. “Oh shut up you. I'm plenty of fun.” Thomas said, affecting a wounded air. “I suppose you can be, but-” Thomas cut Alastair off and kissed him, holding him even closer. Alastair, drunk on happiness, held Thomas close as they kissed and the violins played a song of hearts broken and mended, souls torn and sewed back together.

Cordelia and James sat along the wall, laughing and joking with Lucie and Matthew. The squad had quickly become fast friends. Cordelia leaned forward and kissed James, while Matthew wolf whistled and Lucie slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up. The scene could be described as perfect, if such a thing exists. Music and songs and beauty and, most importantly of them all, new beginnings. What the future held was a mystery, and what the past held was unchangeable. But the now… well the now was whatever the people living in it made it. And everybody present at that party had chosen to make it something glowing with love and happiness and the treasured thing that is friendship. Twists of fate and acts of free will were what brought these people together, but it was their choice to stay. They could’ve shunned each other, torn themselves to bits and pieces while laughing. They could’ve betrayed who was supposed to be their enemies - stabbed them in the back and ran before they could be found by the accusing eyes of their victims. They could’ve done all of this, and more. But they didn’t - they chose to do the opposite. To nurture the compassion in their souls, the love blooming in their hearts. To make friends and lovers and family who would stand by them through the storm of the future, the unknown, and anything else that could be thought of.

#anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #arianna #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #Thomastair #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #jordelia #lucie herondale #matthew fairchild #lucieXMatthew #tsc #the last hours #megans writing

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mlqcconfessions · 4 years

Note

Hey, my grandad passed away tonight, and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind writing some tooth-rottingly fluffy headcanons about Gavin (and the other boys, I guess) comforting a recently bereaved MC. I understand if this request is uncomfortable. Don’t worry if you don’t want to do it. Thank you xxx

Thanks for sharing this with us. I know how it feels because I was in your shoes a few years ago. I lost my Grandpa when I was the farthest away from him. I wasn’t next to him during his last moments, nor was I able to attend the funeral. Much later, when I got the chance to visit my Grandma, I saw that he still kept the “I love you” letter I wrote for him when I was 4.

FOUR.

He kept that letter, which even I had forgotten about, for 14 years, tucked safely inside of his Bible. This was what actually broke me inside. Not the fact that he’s not here anymore. Not the fact that I’ll never be able to tell him “I love you” in person. It’s the fact that I lived my years without realizing just how precious I was to him.

If anything, I hope this headcanon allows you to see past the grief and remember the happy memories you shared with your grandfather. I’m truly sorry for your loss, as someone who has been there, from the bottom of my heart.

Because you mentioned Gavin in particular, I will focus this headcanon on him. I will also follow through with the context of grief, adding in some personal details of mine. I’m afraid it won’t be as “tooth-rotting” as I would have liked. It ended up reflecting how I felt when my grandfather passed.

Hope you don’t mind.

MLQC Headcanon - I’m here with you, Always

Gavin

*D-5*

The anniversary of your grandfather’s passing is coming up, a day you wished would never arrive

It’s going to be first time you’re visiting with Gavin ever since you got engaged

He easily notices that your usual bubbly, perky energy is gone

He becomes a lot more affectionate with you (hugs, kisses, head pats, you name it)

Although he doesn’t admit it, he’s WORRIED

He continuously calls your name to make sure you know that he’s here

That he’s by your side

*D-1*

You wake up around 4 AM, 5 hours before you and Gavin scheduled to get up (he insisted that you needed more rest before starting your day)

…He opens his tired eyes to see that your side of the bed was now empty

It’s cold…!

He hurriedly leaves the bed, his heart racing at the thought of you by yourself

He finds you outside on the balcony, still in your pajamas as you blankly stare at the sunrise

He sighs, going back to the room to grab a blanket and your slippers (you were barefoot)

“It’s still cold in the mornings” (you say nothing as he puts your slippers on)

Her feet are freezing….how long has she been here?

You notice Gavin’s eyes showing a pained look, a face he wears every year at this time

You take the blanket from him, wrap it around his back, then motion for him to hug you from behind (you feel safe as his warm embrace takes over your heart)

He leans over to kiss your ear (he’s concerned over how frigid it is)

“Let’s go back to bed, is that alright?” (he’s never spoken so softly before)

You quietly nod, letting him lead you inside

*D-DAY*

He wakes up earlier than you do, just to make sure nothing will get in your way

He prepares breakfast and brews the coffee just how you like it, before climbing back into bed to savor the last hour before you wake up

All the while getting ready, Gavin’s there with you

He’s talking to you constantly (about his missions, about the stray cat you two sometimes feed, the weird things Minor always says)

Just something to get your mind off of grief (at least for a few moments)

You turn your head to look outside, painted with blue and purple, filled with nothing but silence

“It’s supposed to be spring, isn’t it?”

Gavin looks at you with utmost uneasiness (this was one area where his evol couldn’t protect you)

“Hey, how about we get some flowers on the way? You can pick which ones” (you look at him, and with a weakened smile, you start your day)

You decide on a bouquet of white carnations, simple but a strong symbol for remembrance

He leads you to your grandfather’s grave, with you quickly noticing how well-kept everything was (strange, it’s been a year since I last came here)

“……….Gavin…have you been….” (he doesn’t say anything except a small cough, ears tinted pink)

“…Hello sir, my name is Gavin Bai. I have the pleasure of being your granddaughter’s husband-to-be. I am always grateful to her, for choosing to be with….someone like me… (oh, Gavin…)

Although I’m lacking in all ways, I will dedicate the rest of my life to be the man she fully deserves” (he does a deep bow, hands shaking at his side)

You set down the bouquet and take Gavin’s sweaty hand, interlocking them with yours

“Hi Grandpa…I’m here….I’m here with the person I love this time!….I have someone to protect me now….and…(you squeeze his hand)..someone I must protect as well….I’m going to be happy with him, so…just promise you’ll be happy up in heaven too……….say hi to Dad for me, will you?”

You let out a chuckle, unable to stop the tears from forming and flowing down your eyes

Your eyesight becomes blurry, as Gavin’s chest blocks your view

He says nothing as the girl’s cries gradually become louder, his suit jacket becoming wrinkled from her strong grip

But he knows these aren’t tears of sadness, or sorrow

They’re tears of acceptance, of gratitude, and of love

When you stop crying, a gentle breeze stirs, drying the last remainder of your tears

Gavin takes your hand in his, as the soft wind picks up the fallen ginkgo leaves from the ground

They land on the grave, decorating the carnations with a brilliant golden yellow

Two different flowers now became one, harmonized into a single bouquet

SPRING IS HERE.

This is quite long, but I think it was necessary so as to portray the emotions to its fullest. Thank you to the anon who sent the request, and to everyone else who is reading this right now.

I was listening to Spring Day (BTS) while writing the D-DAY section; I think it actually fits the mood of the song pretty well

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

Text

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 9 - to face the question and answer throughout an eternity

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: implied talk of suicide, memories of finding a suicide victim, graphic imagery, brief mention of animal abuse)

(The title for this chapter comes from "Conscience and Future Judgement" by Anonymous.)

Roman opened his door slowly, not feeling any better than he had when he'd returned this morning. He'd eaten far more ice cream than he'd care to admit, and barely spoken more than five words outside of his explanation to Logan. He'd been blasting Disney music through his headphones for the past two hours, but after repeating the playlist three times over, he'd grown sick of it and decided it was time to leave. He could hear Patton downstairs in the kitchen. A little farther down the hall Logan sat cross legged in front of Virgil's door, Roman's box of tools open at his side. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes. He held some screws between his lips, hands working through some sort of plastic packaging.

"What are you doing?" Roman whispered, his voice strangely soft. Why was his stomach knotting up? He wasn't sick, was he?

Logan looked up, eyebrows raised. "Hm? Oh, fixing Virgil's door," he said around the screws. "I broke it down earlier and bent the lock, so I went to the hardware store and got a new handle."

"You broke his door down?" Roman stepped out into the hall, running a hand along Virgil's door frame. Logan jerked his head inside, and Roman saw a bundle of blankets atop Virgil's bed. If it weren't for the purple-socked foot peeking out from underneath, he wouldn't have known Virgil was under there.

He lowered his voice. "Why?"

Logan's eyes grew hard as he unscrewed the old handle from the door. "I have been asked to keep such information confidential. From you and Patton."

Roman swallowed. A dark thought tickled the back of his mind. He hadn't actually... had he? He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Is he okay, at least?"

"Physically, yes," was all Logan said, which didn't help Roman's mood at all. He paused, lowering the screw driver. "You should go talk to Patton. He's been really worried about you."

Roman opened his mouth to say something more, but found no words on his tongue. Lowering his hands to his sides, he gave a weak nod and went down into the kitchen. He saw his last roommate standing at the sink with his back to him. Patton gazed out the window, forgetting the dirty plate held loose in his hands, not even touching the water streaming from the tap. Roman padded across the tile floor in his socks, a smile tugging at his lips. Patton was always off in some other world, it seemed.

"Patt," he said, touching him on the shoulder. Patton jumped, dropping the plate into the sink where it shattered.

"Oh! Oh no," he groaned, his hands flying up. His frustration melted in surprise as he met Roman's eye. "You're up."

"I am," he replied, hoping he didn't look as lousy as he felt. "Here," Roman said, gently moving between Patton and the sink, "let me help."

"You don't have to—"

"Nonsense. You shouldn't have to be cleaning up after the rest of us all the time," Roman said, moving the shattered porcelain into the trash with the skill of someone who was far too used to handling sharp objects. It was true, though he and the rest of them made special efforts to show Patton their gratitude, he did end up doing most of the chores around the house. Not because they were lazy, but because Patton got to them before anyone else could even lift a finger.

"I like to clean," Patton said, leaning back against the counter. "It's... therapeutic."

Roman placed a handful of newly washed silverware on the drying rack. "Are you doing okay, Padre?"

There was a pause.

"What do you mean?" Patton laughed. "I'm in tip top condition! They don't call me Helen of Joy for nothing, Roman."

He set down a plate. "Who's ever called you that?"

"I have! Now, let's talk about you, mister. I know you might not want to talk about it, but staying in your room all day can't be a good thing. I know! Let's go do something!" He pushed off the counter and raced across the tile, sliding a bit in his socks. "All four of us are home, and—"

"Patt, I don’t—Hey, Patton, wait, I don't think—"

"Oh, we could go walking down main street like we did back in highschool! Do you remember that old antique shop by the watchmaker’s? We used to spend hours in there, and Logan would—"

Roman grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him to a stop. "Patton, stop. We can't—I don't think everyone's quite up to something like that right now."

Patton's smile grew confused, "What are you talking about? I'm sure some fresh air would do you good after sitting inside all day, and I promise not to pry or anything."

Roman sighed, trying to be as kind as possible. "Have you been upstairs since you've been home?"

"...No? Is something wrong?" Patton's expression wilted and he glanced upstairs. Roman kept a hold on his arm.

Roman pressed his lips together and jerked his head toward the couch. Patton followed, becoming visibly worried at this point.

"I'm not sure what happened, exactly," he started carefully, glancing up at Patton, "but Logan had to break down Virgil's door while you were gone. Logan knows something about it, but he said that Virgil asked him to keep it a secret for now. Virgil's all right, though. He isn't hurt or anything. I saw him in his bed... so..." Roman trailed off. Patton didn't react. He just stared at Roman, as if his brain wasn't processing the words he'd heard. He didn't cry or whimper or even give that strong smile he always did when things got hard. He just sat there.

"Patt?" Roman asked, slightly worried at this point. Patton blinked, then got up and ran both hands down his face, letting out a weary exhale.

"I'm... going for a walk. I'll be back soon," he said, then left without another word.

* * * * * * * * * *

Virgil slunk through the darkness, the night air ruffling his fur. It hadn’t been easy sneaking past Logan, who’d practically camped out in front of his door even after the new door knob was in place. Thankfully, he’d been able to escape without any complications.

He couldn’t see Roman, but he could smell him. His trail led straight to the forest in the same path he took every night. Virgil trotted along behind the houses, careful not to lose the scent in the dampness leftover from the rain earlier this evening. He may not be able to find Remus, or his button, or do much for Roman, but there was still—

Something shifted in the alley to his left, and Virgil bolted, knocking over a glass bottle and shattering it as he did. He didn’t stop running for two blocks, his chest heaving. Shaking the nerves out of his shoulders, he looked up.

A lone figure stood at the far end of the meadow, looking into the blackness of the woods.

* * * * * * * * * *

Roman trudged through the muddy field, glad to be relieved of the weight of his guns and sword. Despite Dorian’s vow not to kill him, he’d still strapped his dagger underneath his shirt.

Roman stopped before the tree line. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t waiting for anything, and wasn’t too scared anymore. Honestly, it was more likely spite than anything else. He still wanted to prove to himself that he could resist the curse.

A dark-colored streak of apprehension shot through his mind, and he ran a finger over the amulet tied around his bicep. It had been a lie to say that he wasn’t scared anymore. No, now he just had other things to be afraid of: like dying to reverse the curse. He’d have to extract some of Dorian’s venom and drink it himself, as the deal they’d made restricted the demon from doing it directly. Dorian had assured him that he would remove the amulet himself after the deed was done, but the notion of letting a demon decide whether he woke up again or not left his stomach in knots. He’d wanted to ask Logan to come, but after what happened with Virgil, he didn’t want to worry him. Roman couldn’t imagine having to sit back and watch his friend die in front of him, even if there was a way to reverse it.

Something moved in the grass, and he turned. It was the cat.

“Hey, there, bud,” he said with a smile. He’d been trying to think of a name for it, but hadn’t been able to come up with anything that fit. The feline looked tired and a little disgruntled, mud coating it up to its belly.

“Come to see me off again? Well, don’t worry. I won’t be going anywhere any time soon. I’ve got a plan,” Roman said, hoping that if he sounded as confident as he wished he was his fear would dissipate. Taking a breath, he waved a small goodbye to the cat, and stepped into the forest.

He hadn’t gone twenty steps when he turned and saw the cat trailing behind him.

“Go away,” Roman hissed, waving a hand at it. “It’s dangerous. You can’t follow me.”

If a cat could smirk, this one did. It blinked, long and slow, before huffing out of its nose and continuing forward, its tail dragging across his legs as it passed as if beckoning him forward. Roman put his hands on his hips and sighed.

“You aren’t going to listen to me, are you?”

The cat swished its tail high in the air. Roman laughed, and hiked after it. They walked in silence up the hill toward the cave, and though he was thankful for the company, he was worried. Worried about how he and Dorian had left things the night before. Worried about something happening to the cat.

He worried about a lot of things.

They were halfway to the cave when the cat stopped in its tracks. Its ears swiveled sideways and its tail dropped, moving back and forth methodically as if it were thinking.

“What are you doing?”

The feline looked up at him intently, and chills ricocheted down Roman’s spinal cord and he almost felt dizzy. He put a hand to his head. What’s happening to me?

The cat seemed to roll its eyes, then started into the trees, running parallel with the mountain and steadily away from the cave. Figuring he was more curious about following his new friend than he was afraid of making Dorian wait a bit, Roman followed.

They were headed to the clearing where Roman had first seen Dorian’s human form. Where he’d gone with every intention of not returning. Still, he was interested to see what the cat had in store for him. Now that he didn’t have to worry about a giant demon snake hunting him down every night, he could let himself wander without fear.

Or, at least, without as much of it.

The cat stopped dead at the edge of the meadow, staring. It’s ears flattened against the back of its head and it crouched halfway to the ground. Roman stepped forward cautiously, peering through the trees.

Dorian sat, in his enormous, serpentine form, in the middle of the clearing. His head sat on top of his coiled body, gently angled up at the night sky. Roman glanced up. The stars were breathtaking tonight. The cloudy streak of a galaxy striped the darkness, painting it with blues and deep violets. The entirety of the universe reflected in the enormous, slitted eyes gazing up into it.

The demon’s tongue flicked through the air, and his heavy plated body shifted.

“I can smell you, little prince.” His stare did not shift from the sky.

“I wasn’t exactly trying to hide,” Roman said, stepping into the starlight. The cat followed so closely its shoulder brushed his calf. “Why are you here? I was going to go to the cave.”

“I despise human form,” he growled, “That cave was small, and meant to facilitate our needs. The deal is done. There is no more need.” Dorian’s tongue wagged through the air, more slowly this time.

“What’s this?” he said, finally turning to look. “You’ve brought a friend. How quaint. Finally coming into our powers, are we?”

“What are you talking about? It’s just a cat,” Roman said, hoping Dorian wasn’t in the mood for a midnight snack.

He unraveled, stretching his body out to its full length. It nearly halved the entire meadow.

“If that’s just a cat, then I’m a garden snake,” he chuckled. “Surely, you’ve sensed it. You may not know of your powers, but you can’t be that dense.”

Roman looked down at the cat. It hadn’t fled, but rather moved between Roman and the giant snake. He recalled the strange feelings he got around the animal. Sure, it was odd, but he was nowhere near understanding it, let alone explaining it.

Dorian slithered forward, his body leaving divots in the grass wider than Roman’s arm was long. The cat trembled, but stood its ground.

“You truly have no idea what it is that stands before you?”

“Would I have a reason to lie to you?”

As exasperated as a giant serpent could appear, Dorian closed the distance between himself and the feline, the point of his nose coming only inches away from it. The cat hissed and arched its back. The sound grated inside Roman’s head and he felt sick.

“Perhaps this will help.” With a sound like enormous billows opening and closing, Dorian breathed through his nostrils over the cat. The creature yowled in protest as it was yanked into the air by some invisible force. Roman was blinded by a flash of golden light, and heard a loud thump as something far larger than a cat hit the ground.

Roman blinked the spots from his eyes, and his heart stopped.

“Roman, listen, I can explain. This is all one big misunderstanding, okay? Say something. Oh, please, just say something,” Virgil blathered, rising to his knees.

“What is going on?” Roman breathed, shaking his head. “Is this… are you doing this?” he demanded, turning on Dorian. “Is this your idea of a sick joke?”

“I had no idea you knew the familiar in its human form. That does complicate things, doesn’t it?” he said, thoroughly enjoying himself. “This is the most interesting thing to happen since you offered to make that deal.”

Virgil paled. “You haven’t made one yet, have you?”

Roman touched his forearm where the strange magical threads had sunk into his skin. “Yeah… but are you going to explain to me how you were just a cat? I’m so confused. What’s a familiar? Is this why you leave every summer? I… who are you?”

Virgil looked like Roman had slapped him. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Dorian rose up and Virgil donned a look of terror, gripping Roman’s shoulder and pulling him back. “We need to run.”

“And not just any familiar!” Dorian cackled. “I’d recognize those cowardly eyes anywhere. How is Ursula, these days? Enjoying my imprisonment?”

Virgil looked as if he were going to be sick, his grip almost painful and his hand trembling with fear. “Stop it.”

“Virgil, what is he talking about?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Roman, come on—”

Dorian made an exploratory strike at them both. Roman, who had partly expected it after spending so much time fighting the thing, was ready to jump back and pulled Virgil along with him. His friend’s legs were leaden and slow to react. He stumbled back into Roman.

Dorian laughed some more. “Oh, I wouldn’t say it’s nothing, Virgil. You were instrumental in giving the little prince his curse, were you not?”

“Stop it!”

Roman felt a knot form in his stomach. “Is that true, Virgil?”

Virgil looked up at him miserably. “It’s more complicated than that, Roman. There’s no time, we need to go—”

“So, you knew? This whole time?! And—and what, you helped Ursula give me the curse? It doesn’t make any sense, I left you in the truck when it happened. You weren’t anywhere near it.”

“Roman, I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll answer them all later, but that thing has no intention of helping you! Now, we need to—”

“I’ve grown so bored since our deal,” Dorian interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes fixed on Virgil. His forked tongue tasted the air. “I haven’t had something new to chase in ages…”

“Roman,” Virgil hissed. “Roman, we gotta go.”

He held his hands out between them. “Hey, no need for that, Dorian. Come on, we were making some real progress, right?”

The demon ignored him, continuing forward.

Roman glanced at Virgil, careful not to take his eyes off Dorian for more than a few moments. “Virge, listen to me. Stay close to me. I’ve dealt with him for over a year, I can keep you safe.”

Virgil’s chest rattled with fear, and his hand left Roman’s shoulder. He stared at Dorian, eyes wide. Roman doubted he could even hear him anymore.

“Dorian. Stop it. He has no part in this,” Roman said, changing tactics. A well of helplessness sprung up within him. He was losing his hold on both of them.

“I have an idea for a new game, little prince,” he hissed, his body tensing, ready to spring forward. “I hunt the traitorous familiar, and you try to stop me. Ready?”

“Virgil! Run!”

“Roman, I’m not—”

“Go!”

Quick as a whip, Dorian struck around Roman. Virgil disappeared, and the demon crashed into a tree.

A black cat streaked through the grass and into the forest at top speed, ears flat against its head. Dorian laughed wildly and began his pursuit.

* * * * * * * * * *

The alleys here in Wakeby weren't really what Patton would consider an alley. They were clean, if not a little dusty, with the muted smell of trash well-kept in the dumpsters lining the quaint little buildings. The most he'd seen all night was a black cat streaking down the street, perfectly healthy and unharmed. It was quiet. He could hear the crickets from the forest not to far away.

Nothing like what Patton was used to; the puddles of water mixed with what he told himself was mud, the discarded needles, the sounds of teenagers tying cats' tails in knots or setting them on fire.

Memories he hadn't thought about since he'd been adopted. Since he'd donned this happy, ever-joyful persona for the sake of his saint of an adoptive mother who deserved better than the street kid she'd roped herself into caring for.

He remembered. His friend. The rusted tub.

Pink water.

Sirens.

Shaking hands and social workers...

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takingcourage · 4 years

Text

Miscalculations: A Witness AU

Chapter Seven

Catch up here: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC

Word Count: 3,000

Series Summary: After years apart, fate brings Kellen and Cassian together a third time. Can they learn from the mistakes of the past, or are they destined to repeat them once more?

Kellen ran both hands through her hair for the dozenth time, trying to add some volume to waves that refused to cooperate. This is silly. Cassian doesn’t care what you look like. But even with the internal upbraiding, she was still determined to look her best. If this afternoon was a defining point for her future, she didn’t want to face it with bad hair.

She took a final look in the flip-down mirror and exited the car. Heart in her throat, she located the entrance to the complex, then found her way to the address Cassian had sent her. With one hand on her chest to stop its clamoring, she knocked on the door.

Based on the quick response, he’d been waiting on the other side. In spite of the nerves she knew he must be feeling, he answered with a smile as sincere and true as it had always been. The sight of it set her heart racing for an entirely different reason.

“Welcome! Please make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Though the space was unfamiliar, she felt a strange inkling of nostalgia as she passed the threshold. He still kept his space neat and tidy, but the half-burned candles and persistent fragrance of coffee gave the apartment a lived-in quality.

“It’s a little smaller than my last place, but it serves me well.” He extended an arm to take her coat, which she gladly surrendered. Despite the chill outside, her skin had been burning up beneath it.

Shaking her head at his concession, Kellen tugged the wrinkles out of her shirt. “You could do a lot worse -- especially in this part of the city. And it’s much better than sending Owen off to Harika’s place. It isn’t toddler-proofed, and he does better on his home turf anyway.”

“I know.” Pulling her coat over a hanger, he leaned into the small entry closet to hang it up. When he was facing her once more, she caught his lingering gaze.

“What?” The attention was not unwelcome, but the soft affection she read on his features was doing funny things to her emotions.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he revealed, taking another step toward her. ”Part of me worried that you’d change your mind.”

Kellen groaned and tried to cover her embarrassment by walking in and setting her purse on the kitchen counter. “I deserved that,” she agreed when she could bear to face him again. “Old Kellen never would have done this.”

“New Kellen is a vast improvement,” he commented, following her onto the tiled floor. It was an off-handed remark, much too casual for the amount of pleasure it produced as she heard the words. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“A whiskey would be great.”

Kellen just caught his smirk as he reached up to take the bottle from an upper cabinet. “Coming right up. You get any sleep last night?”

“Enough. I don’t think I’m going to fall asleep on you this afternoon.”

Cassian kept his mouth shut, but she felt the heat of his gaze as he replaced the cap on the bottle. Of their own volition, her eyes veered toward the bed on the opposite wall. It wasn’t hard to recall waking up with him the first night they’d met, snuggled together under a blanket and with their heads occupying a single pillow...

If everything went as she hoped, maybe she’d share a bed with him again someday. Maybe even every day. Somewhat astonished by the thought, she felt a hot flush creep over her shoulders and back. There was something novel in such forthright, uninhibited thinking about the future.

If Cassian noticed the object of her gaze, he was too much of a gentleman to call attention to it. Instead, he slipped a tumbler of whiskey into her hands. “Sláinte.”

“Sláinte.” Tipping the brim of her glass to meet his, Kellen swallowed down her rising anticipation. She took a sip of whiskey, as much to calm her nerves as to adhere to convention.

Cassian took a couple of strides away from the kitchen, Kellen falling into step behind. “Shall we sit?”

Holding her glass steady, she followed all the way to the living area on the opposite end of the loft.

He took the chair, and though he didn’t call attention to the decision, she knew it had been made for her benefit. Leaving her with the entire couch meant that she had the freedom to be as far from him as she wanted. And though she knew that letting men get too close had burned her in the past, the walls she’d constructed to keep it from happening again were only making her more miserable.

Consciously settling at the end of the couch nearest him, she balanced the base of her glass on her knee. Inhaling slowly, she tried to prepare some kind of opening statement.

“There’s no pressure, Kellen,” Cassian’s voice broke in, the even lilt working wonders to soothe her nerves. “If you just want to sit and drink whiskey together, I’m down for that.”

Disbelieving, she flashed him a somewhat rueful smile. “Don’t tempt me.”

Sitting with him now, it was impossible to remember any of the reasons she’d had for being upset with him, or the excuses that she’d been giving herself for the past several weeks. She’d known it before, but this time she felt it: Cassian Keane was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. If she let him slip away again, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

“Okay,” she began with fresh determination. “I think I want to start with what happened between us three years ago. I know it’s been ages, but I don’t think we’ll be able to move forward until it’s been addressed.”

He nodded and took another sip of his whiskey. “Neither do I. I can go first if you like.”

“No, I need to do this.” She pushed a long breath through tightened lips and began. “Here’s the honest truth: I was a terrible person three years ago. I knew then the way things ended between us wasn’t your fault, but it was a whole lot easier to blame you for walking out than to face the fact that I couldn’t make up my mind.”

“...couldn’t make up your mind?” he questioned softly, urging further explanation when she fell quiet.

“About what I wanted from you. With you.” She lifted the whiskey to her lips for a drink before pulling it back with a wry laugh. “I always prided myself on knowing my mind, but you were the exception. It wasn’t until you were gone that I realized how much I wanted you to stay.”

Staring into his glass, Cassian took some time to weigh her words. Uncertain whether his silence was a good sign or not, it came as no small relief when he finally opened his mouth to respond.

“I only left because I thought it was what you wanted. You clammed up any time I mentioned commitment or the future.”

“I know,” she acknowledged with a sigh. “And if I’d been honest with you -- honest with myself -- we never would have ended up in such a mess.”

He ran a free hand through his hair, combing back the curls so that they fell into a mass atop his head. When he spoke again, there was a rawness to his voice that sent a shiver down her spine. “I would have stayed for you in a heartbeat, Kellen. I wanted to stay for you, but you weren’t ready. I thought the best thing I could do was to take myself out of the equation and let you move on if you wanted to.”

“What else were you going to think? I was pushing you away at every turn.” Though there was no longer any shame in the memory, confronting her mistakes still stung. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m am too. And I never intended to leave things there. I thought we could reconnect the next time I was in Boston, but you’d disappeared.”

“So had you. I tried for months; your phone was always disconnected.”

“I even went to your old office to try to find you.”

“I went to the station!”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything. I’m sure you had the same rotten luck.”

“I couldn't even get them to tell me what country you were in.” She leaned forward, voice rising as the memories flooded back. With them, she felt an echo of the hopelessness that she’d known, certain that he was lost to her forever. How fortunate that the caprice of fate had brought them together again.

Lost to his own musings, Cassian took some time to reply. “I had no idea you’d tried so hard.”

“I was desperate.”

“With Owen on the way, I can imagine.”

“It wasn’t just that.” Her heart hammered against her chest as the words teetered on the tip of her tongue. “I’d finally realized that what I expected from you is exactly what I refused to give back. I wanted you to be committed, but I didn’t want you to tie me down. It took losing you for me to realize that.”

“Kellen…”

“And I don’t think I have it in me to lose you again.”

He didn’t speak, but the heavy intake of breath was enough to tell her that he hadn’t expected the admission.

"And so I’ve been terrified to get close to you now, and terrified to let Owen get attached. That’s why I didn’t want him to know who you were. It’s why I pulled away the other night when I saw your scar. I was so afraid of something taking you away from us that I ended up pushing you myself. I’m so, so sorry,” she rambled, uncertain how to proceed.

Cassian drifted nearer and soothed her worries with a hush. “It’s in the past.”

She knew that he meant the words as a sort of forgiveness, and she nodded slightly in gratitude. “But where does that leave us for the future?” Question posed, she locked eyes on him with what she hoped was a meaningful stare. “There’s a reason you stopped Harika that night. Where do you want to go from here?”

“That may be a dangerous question.”

Kellen leaned forward to show him she wanted the answer anyway. Almost close enough to touch, the traces of his earthy cologne sent a thrill of desire straight through her core. But they’d forsaken conversation for physical pleasure too many times in the past. She wasn’t going to let it happen again -- not when she’d finally admitted to herself that she needed more from him than merely what his body had to offer.

“I want to be a family,” he began, voice husky as he stumbled over the words. “I want to be with you -- for real this time, not just messing around and pretending there are no feelings involved. I want to be there for Owen as he grows up. I want to be there for you. Not to stifle you or keep you from pursuing your career, but to love you.” He paused momentarily. “And I know you hate it, but I still want to protect you both and take care of you. I can’t help it.”

Hope kindled, she had to keep herself from jumping into his arms. Tempering her enthusiasm with a firm grasp on her tumbler, she asked one last question: “And you’re not going to be flying off every other week to risk your life in...” under the press of emotions, she struggled to think of a far-flung country, “...Zimbabwe or somewhere?”

Cassian laughed dryly. “Boston is more than enough for me, especially with you and Owen here.” His tone turned serious, and she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. He’d transferred his glass to the table between them, leaving both hands free to rub the fabric over his knees. “Especially if there’s a reason for me to stay.”

Kellen took in his answer, fully aware of the way his eyes rested on her. “There is. I’m not good at putting my feelings into words, but I want to be with you, Cassian. We’ve got a lot to work through, and I’m not saying that it’s going to be easy, but I’m not running anymore.”

Seeing the glisten of tears in his deep green eyes, she could resist him no longer. Releasing her glass with enough force for it to slide halfway across the table, she abandoned her seat. Legs on either side of him, she draped both arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his temple.

Cassian clung back, his fervor tangible as he breathed his own promises against her skin. “I love you. Leaving is the last thing I’d ever do.”

“I know. If I ever push you away again, please kiss me until I’ve come back to my senses.” She felt his laughter at her throat and shivered against the sensation. “I’ve missed this so much.”

His lips pressed her pulse point, his tongue gently brushing over her skin to usher a gasp from her throat. “And that.” She buried her hands in his hair, massaging the scalp with probing fingers. Every touch felt like laying claim to one another all over again, and she couldn’t get enough.

“But mostly, I’ve just missed you. I don’t want to do life without you anymore. I love you, Cassian.”

He stiffened beneath her, but his second impulse was to hold her even tighter than before. Thumbs finding purchase on her hips, he rocked her gently against his lap. “You don’t have to...”

“Shhh. I left you hanging for way too long. Let me have this.”

She alternated the phrase between kisses, determined to prove to him after all of these years that the words he’d longed to hear were true, that he deserved the love that she’d refused him so often in the past. Each repetition was a commitment -- a promise that her love was more than just a feeling or a whim.

“I’m going to need more of you in the future,” he murmured, breath skimming the shell of her ear. “A lot more, I think.”

Her whole body glowed at the reminder that this wasn’t just a passing fancy. “I’m yours.”

Their kisses were gentle, but there was no less passion behind them than there had been when they’d kissed two week before. Rather, they were able to take their time with one another, patient in the knowledge that there was plenty left to come.

_____

When Kellen finally made her way back to her own apartment, not even Harika’s gloating could dampen the mood. She quickly sent the other woman on her way and set about Owen’s bedtime routine, thinking all the while about how much better nights would be with Cassian there to share them.

Having meals, reading together, tucking Owen in -- they were all things that she wanted to do as a family. She hadn’t known how much until they’d gotten a taste of it, but now she hungered for it like it was something she’d always known.

“Here,” she propped Owen up against her shoulder before starting in on the books he’d selected. “Let’s take a selfie to send Mr. Keane.”

You won’t be calling him that for much longer, she noted with a thrill as she pulled up the camera on her phone. Beside her, the toddler wiggled so far into the frame that he nearly blocked her face. Shifting out from behind him, she centered her thumb over the button. “Say cheese!”

“Cheese!” Owen copied, his grin wide enough for both his top and bottom gums to be visible.

“You goofball!” Kellen accused as she looked over the resulting shot. The boy just giggled and rolled back onto his pile of pillows.

“He’s going to love it,” she muttered, more to herself than to her son. Attaching the photo, she typed out a quick message: Have you ever seen a smile this big?

She felt the phone vibrate against her thigh midway through their first book. Ignoring it until they’d come to the end, she had to bite back a sharp laugh at the image that awaited them.

Cassian had recreated the same exaggerated smile, the effect even more ridiculous on his adult features than they’d been on Owen’s. He’s got me beat.

Sharing the picture with her son brought on such a fit of laughter that she worried he would never fall asleep. Thankfully, the two remaining books were sufficient to settle him down again. As she tiptoed into the hallway, she resumed the conversation with Cassian.

He loved it. Any idea when we’ll see you next?

I know it’s short notice, but I’ve got the day free tomorrow. Do you have any plans?

Just a few hours of work and maybe a grocery run. We should be home most of the day though. You wanna spend it with us?

Very much. I’ll come over and cook breakfast if you want.

You really know how to spoil us, don’t you?

Does that mean yes?

If you’re sure you can handle me pre-coffee…

I happen to love pre-coffee Kellen. And post-coffee Kellen. And every other version of ya.

Her skin turned to fire at the admission. Goodness knew she didn’t deserve him, but now that she had him again, she’d do whatever she could to be worthy of him.

In that case, I’ll be waiting for you bright and early.

Overwhelmed by a swell of affection, she held the phone to her chest and indulged in a gleeful smile. With any luck, tomorrow would be just the first of many days together.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 14

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud

It’s shy of three in the morning when he wakes with the baby; jarred from sleep by the initially soft yet insistent whimpers and cries from the bassinette at the end of the bed. Even with the meds he’d taken before bed, Tyler’s still able to awaken at the drop of a dime, his brain and body on high alert. Years of having to constantly be on guard and ready for any possible threat engrained in every inch of him. Even the smallest of movements or noise can have him fully alert in seconds; the wind gently rattling the windows, the dog knocking something over downstairs, one of the kids mumbling or tossing and turning in their sleep. It used to cause instant panic when he bolted awake; brain trying to ascertain if there was a legitimate threat, and if there was, how to deal with it. Now he’s able to stay calm. No cold sweat, no racing heart, no struggle to breathe.

“Tyler, “Esme mumbles beside him when the crying begins to increase in intensity, then digs in elbow into chest.

“I’m awake,” he says, and rolls over onto his back, pressing the heels of the palms into his eyes before sitting up swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. It’s their ‘thing’ if the baby stays in their room: anything after two am, he willingly tends to. Five kids in six years? He figures it’s the least he can do.

The bedroom door creaks open and Mac pads into the room. Since moving his nightly routine changed, preferring to sleep in the middle of the upstairs hallways in case he senses any of his people –especially the little ones- needed him. And he immediately sits down at the side of the bassinette, a head cocked to the side as he watches Tyler intently, as if questioning what is taking him so long to react.

“You have to just bring her to me,” Esme says, and give a loud, long yawn. “I’ve been slacking. I didn’t make any bottles up after we ran out this morning.”

“You need to get your shit together then,” he teases, groaning as he stands. The pain isn’t too bad tonight, just a dull ache in the deepest parts of his shoulder and a stiff knee.

“You need to bite me,” she retorts, and tosses a pillow in his direction.

“See that,” he speaks to the dog, ruffling the fur at the back of his neck. “See what I put up? Her throwing shit at me?”

“You’re lucky I don’t smother you with it sometimes,” she informs him, as she sits up in bed and catches the pillow when he tosses it back. Arranging it and two others behind her back for comfort. “You were talking in your sleep. Again.”

“That’s your thing. I do not talk in my sleep.”

“I’m going to record you. You were talking about Austin and Millie and something about ‘leaving yet’. That’s three night in a row. What are you dreaming about?”

“I don’t know.” he lies, as he unwraps the baby from the tight swaddling he’d put her in before bed, then lifts her to his chest; one hand on her diapered bum, the other on the back of her head, his lips pressed to her thick, silky hair. She settles almost immediately, a tiny fist finding the chain around his neck and gripping tightly.

“But it was about Austin and Millie?” she inquires.

“I guess. I don’t remember. Guess it was one of those dreams you forget about as soon as you wake up.” It’s bullshit of course. He remembers ever second of it. Every vivid detail whether big of small. The smell of the ocean, the feel of the sand beneath his feet and between his toes, the sounds of their voices and their laughter. The same backdrop as his old visions and dreams of Austin, only with an extra and even more painful component.

“I guess,” she gives another yawn, as he lays the baby in her arms and she turns her face up towards him when he leans down to press a kiss to her lips. “Where are you going?” she asks, when he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and heads for the door.

“I’m hungry? Want anything?” It’s a small and simple gesture that he’d adopted years ago when they’d first brought Mille home: bringing her a small snack and something to drink while the baby was at the breast. It’s not much, but it’s down with love and immense gratitude. After all, she’d single handily given him a new life: a chance to get things right as a husband and a father. What were small tokens appreciation in the grand scheme of things?”

“Surprise me,” she smiles. “But I swear to God, if you bring any vegemite into this bed, I will make you sleep on the couch for at least a month.”

“One vegemite sandwich coming up, he teases, chuckling as she flips him the middle finger.

He checks on the kids before heading downstairs; fixing blankets and fetching pillows from off the floor, careful not wake them when getting them settled back into comfortable positions. The twins once again in the bottom bunk together, this time with their backs pressed together, each of them clutching a beloved stuffed animal –or their ‘lovies’ as they call them- to their chests. Declan is on the floor beside his toddler bed; on his stomach, knees tucked into his body, ass in the air. The same way he’s been sleeping since he was a baby and could get himself into the position on his own. He’s fallen out sometime in the middle of the night and had decided it was way too much effort to get back into bed. Tyler leaves him where he is, simply covering him with his comforter before leaving the room.

He spends the most time in with Millie. Crouched by the side of her bed, a hand on her head as he watches her sleep. Trying to full his brain with better, happier images of her. And erase the feelings of anxiety and dread that threaten to eat him alive.

****

“Everything okay?” Esme asks when he finally returns, bringing with him a plate of peanut butter and banana sandwiches and two glasses of milk.

“Your brother’s passed out on the back deck,” he replies, as he sits one of the drinks down on the table next to her side of the bed.

When he’d gotten into the kitchen, he’d thought he was going insane because he could hear a very distinct snore coming from outside. It isn’t unusual to get wildlife that close to the house; extremely tame and bold kangaroos and koalas that would come right up to the sliding door looking for food. But he’d never heard any animal that sounded like THAT. So it came as no real surprise when he’d flipped on the outside light and found Kyle passed out in one of the reclining chairs, surrounded by several, if not dozens, of empty better bottles.

“Did you wake him up?” she asks. “Tell him to either come in or leave?”

“Fuck him. I felt him there. He’s thrashed. There’s at least half a two four he finished when he got here. He wants to get loaded and show up here like that, he can pay the price and sleep outside.”

“I hope Becky or Mildred don’t pee on him,” she muses. Becky being the one of their frequent koala guests and Mildred a young kangaroo that will eat grapes and heads of lettuce out of the palm of your hand. “Or try to hump him in his sleep.”

“Probably the best action he’s gotten in a while. So maybe it’s a good thing if they do.”

“You are slightly disturbing,” she laughs, as he slides back into bed and settles himself beside her, leaning back against the headboard and placing the plate of food between them. “Now I’m intrigued,” she says, as she reaches for a sandwich. “Are you insinuating that Nik sucks in bed?”

“Are you asking me from my personal experience? I thought you don’t like to talk me to talk about those kinds of things.”

“You can’t drop a comment about kangaroos and koala sex and not expect me to want more details. By the way...” she bites into the sandwich and then gives a long, dramatic sigh. “...you’re the best. You actually made my favorite.”

He reaches out and puts a hand on the side of her head, gently pulling her towards him and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“So?” she presses. “Was she? Bad in bed?”

“I don’t know if bad is the word I’d use to describe it.”

“Well if you kept going back for it, it couldn’t have been THAT bad.”

Tyler shrugs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. “She was just...I don’t know...boring?”

“Vanilla?”

“So vanilla it hurts.”

“Really? That surprises me. I always thought she’d be a while child between the sheets.”

“I always thought maybe you two...you know...”

“What?” she laughs. “Oh my god. Nik? She is so not my type. And in all honesty, I’ve only ever done that twice. Long before I met you. Even before I met Mark.”

“I think it’s totally hot.”

“What? Thinking of me with another girl?”

Tyler nods. “Not that I want you to run off and cheat on me with a girl. Or bring one home. Because I don’t do shit like that and I don’t like to share. But it’s still hot. Thinking about it.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You think about it a lot?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Sometimes, I guess. Not a lot. Just you know, once or twice when I’ve had to do things on my own.”

“You’re dirty,” she chides, and nudges him with her elbow. “No wonder I love you so much. That filthy mind of yours. The best part is that it doesn’t just stay in your mind. You’re not shy when it comes to those sorts of things.”

“Well when you’re married to a nympho, you get to try a lot of things. Especially when she’s as freaky as you are. But yeah. She was boring.”

“In what way?”

“I had to do all the work,” he reveals. “Might as well have been fucking the mattress. Should have just stuck to....” he makes an up and down hand motion, symbolizing jerking off. “...wouldn’t have all the fucking drama following me around. She also only like to receive not give. And when I say doesn’t like to give, I mean not once. Ever.”

Esme snorts. “My heart bleeds for you. You poor baby.”

“It’s all good You make up for it. And then some?”

“Is she the last person you were with before me?”

“Yup.”

“How long before?”

“Few months.”

“And you never...in four months...slept with anyone else?”

“Didn’t feel the need to. I would have eventually if the dry spell lasted any longer. Getting laid wasn’t on my list of priorities so I didn’t think about going out to find some random to fuck. And then he showed up...” he shrugs.

“Must have like Christmas for you,” she grins.

“Five days of the best Christmas ever,” he declares.

She takes another bite of her sandwich. “So how many were there?” she casually asks.

“How many what?”

“Women. In your life.”

“I dunno. I didn’t keep track.”

Her eyes widen. “That many? So many you couldn’t keep track? Are you serious right now?”

“No. I just didn’t bother keeping tracks. Who cares? It was just fucking. No big deal.”

“So just randoms, or...”

He sips his milk. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“I’m curious. We’ve been married for almost six and a half years and we’ve never talked about it.”

“Why is there a reason to.”

“I told you how many men I’d been with,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask because it didn’t matter to me. I knew you had a life before me. What you did and who you did it with didn’t matter.”

“Is it under a dozen?”

“Esme....stop...”

“Two dozen?”

He just smiles.

“More than two dozen? Is it between three and four?”

“Not that many,” he chuckles. “I didn’t want my dick falling off ‘cause I caught something. Two dozen. Maybe a bit more. And they were randoms at first and then became people I could call up when I was in town.”

“Have you ever talked to any of them while you’ve been out of town in the last six years?”

Tyler frowns. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not cheater. I would never do that to you. I love you way too much to something like that. I’m perfectly happy being a one-woman man.”

“I wonder if they wonder where you ever disappeared to. All your little pieces of ass stashed all over the world. I bet they miss you. Because you like to give more than you like to receive.”

“That’s definitely one of my better qualities. I know you don’t complain.” He gives the remaining half of a sandwich to Mac, places the plate and glass on the nightstand, and then wraps his arm around her shoulders. Settling himself tightly against her as she moves Addie from one breast to the other.

“You don’t have to stay up,” Esme says. “You can go back to sleep.”

“I know I don’t have to stay up. But I want to.”

She smiles and rests her head against his chest as he rubs at her arm with one hand and then reaches across his body with the other; gently laying his palm against Addie’s head, thumb repeatedly stroking her hair. And he leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing in the warmth of his wife’s body against him and the soft, content noises that the baby makes as she feeds.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esme asks, and his eyes flicker open. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen asleep, his arm now loose around her, the hand that had been holding Addie’s head now resting in his lap.

“About what?”

“Your dream. That one that made you talk in your sleep.”

“I told you,” he grimaces as he stretches his legs out. “I don’t remember what it was about.”

“And I don’t believe you.” she says, as she buttons up the old dress shirt of his that she’s worn to bed, then places Addie against his chest. “You and your useless nipple are needed now,” she chides.

He places a hand between the baby’s shoulders, fingers supporting her hand, then uses the other to rub her back in slow, soft circles in an attempt to burp her.

“So?” Esme presses. “What was it about?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he reminds her.

“We’ve had a lot of talks at three in the morning. So out with it. Fess up. Or I won’t let you go back to sleep at all if you don’t. I’m not fucking around, Tyler. You need to stop holding shit back. It’s not good for you. It’s not good for us.”

He sighs.

“I don’t know why you feel like you have to hold things back. We’ve been together for six and a half years. We have five kids together. You’d think by now that you’d trust me enough to tell me things.”

“This is not about trusting you,” he assures her. “I trust you. With our kids' lives. With my life. It’s about not wanting to put more on you. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“And you always help me deal with things, right? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Help each other? We’re a team. If we can work together and successfully keep five little humans alive, I think we can successfully help one another deal with shit.”

He smirks. “You’re starting to sound too much like the therapist.”

“Who happens to be highly educated and respected,” Esme points out. “So stop. Please. Just tell me. It’s been three nights in a row. And I know it’s the same dream because you’re taking about the same two people each time. So...”

“It’s about Austin. And Millie,” he confirms the obvious.

“Okay. And....?”

“Just the three of us. Walking on the beach. And they’re ahead of me and they’re holding hands and talking and laughing and feels so...I don’t know...perfect.”

She gives a small smile and patiently waits for him to continue.

“And they start walking towards the water and I keep telling them to come and back and they’re not listening to me. No matter how close I think I’m getting to them, they just keep getting further and further away.”

He can feel it. The anxiety gnawing at his chest and stomach, the emotion that begins contracting his throat, the tears that burn his eye. And he closes them; cursing his fucked up brain and trying to concentrate on the ‘here and now’. On his wife’s hand as it comes to rest on his thigh, rubbing softly. And on that tiny baby pressed to his chest; the feel of her hair against his fingers and the smell that clings to her body and clothes.

“And I yelling at them to stop,” he continues. “To just come back. And then they just start fading away and I freak out, telling them that it’s not time yet. I’m for them to go.” The tears come easily now, and he screws his eyes tightly shut to hold them back. “Both of them. Gone. Just like that. And I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“It’s okay,” her voice is gentle and soothing, her hand moving comfortingly along his thigh and over his knee. “It’s alright now. It was just a dream. Do you know what might have brought it on?”

“Millie’s going to be six.”

“I know that.” She shifts her position on the bed; turning to face him and reaching out to clear his tears away with gentle fingers.

“Austin was six,” he says. “When he died.

“I knew it would be hard for you. I didn’t know how hard though. Why didn’t you tell me about this? How long as it been going? The dream. The way you're feeling.”

“Two or three weeks,” he admits.

“And you never said anything?”

“We just had a baby. I didn’t want to talk about that kind of shit.”

“It’s not shit. It’s your son. And one of your daughters. You didn’t have to hold that in, Tyler. You know you didn’t. What are you thinking? Right now. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“I’m worried. I’m worried and I’m fucking scared. That she’s going to wake up that morning and she’s going to be sick. And it’s going to be something terrible that no one will be able to help her and I’m going to lose her too.”

“Jesus....Tyler...” she lays a hand on the side of his face and he turns into it, pressing a kiss against her palm. “...you’ve been keeping all that in for all this time?”

He nods.

“Why? Why do you do that to yourself? I hate that you keep doing this. Torturing yourself like this.”

“I don’t want to lose her. She’s my first. After Autism. I didn’t think I’d ever be a dad again. And then you came along and gave me her.”

“Millie’s fine though. She’s happy. She’s healthy.”

“Austin was too. Healthy. Until he wasn’t.”

“Do you realize the chances of that happening? Her waking up sick like that? You know it’s slim to none, right?”

“Logically, yeah. But my fucking brain isn’t actually thinking logically these days, is it. I mean, what if it’s my fault? What if I’ve got some messed up gene and I passed it down to her?”

“That’s not how it works, baby. You did not give Austin cancer. In the same you’re not going to give it to Millie. You know that’s irrational, right? To think that way?”

He nods.

Esme sighs, then takes the baby from him and places her middle of the bed. Climbing into his lap, she holds his face in both hands, eyes never leaving his as her fingers wipe away his tears. “Nothing is going to happen to Millie,” she insists. “She’s fine. She’s not going to get sick.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You probably have a better chance of getting hit by lightning than you do of her getting sick. I wish I knew what to do for you. To take all the pain away. Because I’d do it. In a heartbeat.”

He manages a smile. “I know you would.”

“You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of the hell your brain is putting through. I’m sorry....” she fights back her own tears. “...that I can’t help.”

“You do,” he says. “More than you realize.”

She presses a kiss to his forehead, and wrapping both arms around her waist, rests his head against her chest and holds her as tight as he possibly can.

****

He’s up minutes before sunrise, leaving Esme and the baby sleeping as he heads downstairs, Mac following close behind. It’s their morning ritual when it’s just the two of them; Tyler sipping coffee out on the back patio while he watches the sun come up, then Mac for a walk along the beach and allowing him run in and out of the surf. He relishes that before the kids wake up, when the house is still cloaked in peaceful slumber. It gives him a chance to catch his breath. Allows his nerves and his brain to relax before all the noise and commotion of the day begin.

This morning he takes two coffees out outside with him: setting them down on the table before standing alongside the reclining chair that his brother in law sleeps in, an arm and a leg dangling over the side. And he shakes his head in a mixture of dismay and disgust and directs a solid kick at Kyle’s foot.

“Get up,” he orders.

Kyle mumbles in his sleep; a mixture of refusals and profanities. Then rolls over onto his side.

Tyler digs his knee into the small of his brother in law’s back. pressing painfully hard against the middle of his spine. “I said get up.”

“Go away,” the other man mutters. “Fuck off.”

“You’re passed out drunk outside of my place and you’re telling me to fuck off? Either your drunk ass up or I’ll get do it for you. Easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”

Kyle relents; groaning in agony as he sits up in the chair. Eyes screwed tightly shut, a hand resting against his forehead. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“I’ve seen a guy that’s been hit by a truck. You look worse. Here,” he taps one of the coffee mugs against Kyle’s shoulder. “Drink it. Hopefully it helps sober you up. You’re trashed. You smell like you brought the whole bar back with you.”

“I feel like I drank the whole bar.” He clasps the mug in his hands, sipping gingerly at the piping hot brews. “Now that’s good.”

“Be thankful I woke up before your sister. I love her, but she can’t make decent for shit.”

Kyle laughs at that, then moans in agony and places a hand against his aching head. “What time is it?”

“Just after six.” Tyler drops into the chair beside him, placing his bare foot on the small table in front of him. “I want you sobered up before the kids get up for school. And I want all this shit...” he nods down at all the empty beer bottles. “...cleaned up. I don’t want them seeing this shop. And take a fucking shower. You reek.”

Kyle scowls. “I’m not one of your kids.”

“No, but you brought your shit around my kids. I don’t want them around this. It’s why I got clean. So they wouldn’t see what a mess I could be. And they don’t need to be seeing you like that either. The fuck is wrong with you? Bringing this crap to my house?”

“You said if I needed a place to crash...”

“I didn’t mean to show up loaded. Have some respect for my wife. For my kids. We don’t live like this. If you wanted to get trashed, you should have done it somewhere else.”

“I wasn’t thinking about all of that,” he admits. “You cleaning yourself up. I just needed to get there hell out of there and I knew I’d be welcome here. Or at least I thought I would be.”

“Cry me a fucking river. How’d you even get here anyway?”

“Drove.”

“How drunk were you?”

Kyle shrugs.

“You’re a fucking drongo.”

The other man frowns. “What’s that mean?”

“Means you’re an idiot.”

“You always this grumpy in the morning or...”

“I can get worse if you like,” Tyler offers. “I’ve had three hours sleep, I’m in fucking agony, and now I’m putting up with your bullshit. So do me a favor and drink the coffee and keep your mouth shut and just sit there and enjoy the fucking sunrise.”

Kyle holds a hand up in surrender, then sips slowly at his drink.

Tyler basks in the silence, sitting low in his chair with both feet on the table. Enjoying fresh, hot coffee and the brilliant sunrise and listening to the sound of the ocean. The waves are strong today, and local forecasters had already declared it an excellent day of surfing. It’s how he plans to spend his afternoon once Esme returns from the doctor and takes over watching the baby and Declan. She never denies him those things; the hobbies that help keep him grounded and sane. And he knows how lucky he is; not to have to worry about a wife that constantly demands his attention and can’t take care of herself. That he’d been blessed to find someone with a personality equally as strong as his; fiercely independent, tenacious, assertive to a fault.

He sits up and glances towards over his shoulder as the screen door slides open, smiling at her as she steps out of the house with Declan on her hip.

“Well...well...well...” she says, as she glares at Kyle. “...look who got right messed up last night.”

“Thanks to you,” her brother grumbles.

“Do you feel as good as you look? Because you look like shit.”

He flips her the middle finger.

“Charming. Go see daddy,” she kisses the side of Declan’s head and sets him on the ground. “You might want to cover his ears,” she says to Tyler, as Declan climbs up onto his lap and he helps the toddler hold the mug, allowing him to sip at now lukewarm coffee. What the fuck is wrong with you?” she addresses her brother. “You bring this shit here? Or all the houses to bring your drunk ass to! Where my kids live. Are you unhinged?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” he admits.

“Obviously. We don’t want this shit here, Kyle. You know the struggle that this house has gone through with booze. And you still bring it here?”

“I went to your neighbors first, but she didn’t answer the door.”

“Oh...my....God. Are you serious? You went to Salena’s? Why would you do that?”

“Who’s Salena?” Tyler asks.

“The new neighbor,” Kyle replies. “Bruh...she’s pretty cute too.”

Tyler looks back his wife. “We have a new neighbor?”

“She moved into the place next door.” Esme says. “If you left the house more often, you would have met her by now.”

“Hey now, I’m the innocent one here. Don’t freak out on me.”

She gives an apologetic smile, then turns back to her brother. “What would possess you to go there?”

“I met her yesterday. She seemed nice.”

“Nice enough to that she’d welcome your drunk ass into her house. Jesus Christ, Kyle. You’re here one day and you’re already fucking things up? We’ve lived here six months and have had no issues. Until now.”

“Well if you hadn’t have caused issues last night, I wouldn’t have had to come here in the first place,” he retorts.

“Oh that’s it. Blame your shitty taste in women on me.”

“You introduced us!”

“He’s got a point,” Tyler remarks, and then shrugs when she glares at him.

“I didn’t think you’d end up that serious about her!” Esme exclaims. “I mean, she has history with your own brother in law. You don’t think it’s the least bit weird that you’re marrying someone that’s fucked him?” she nods in Tyler’s direction. “Someone that’s married to your sister. That’s messed up, Kyle.”

He looks to Tyler for back up.

“This isn’t the hill I want to die on, mate. This is between you two. I’ve got nothing to do with this. In fact...” he sets the mug down on the ground and stands up, taking a hold of Declan and placing him on his shoulders; reaching up to place a protective hand on his son’s back as the toddler wraps both arms around the top of his head. “We’re getting the hell out of here before we get brought into this.”

Esme watches him as he goes, Declan holding on as tight as he can, Mac happily trotting alongside of them. And they stop at the edge of the water and Tyler places their son on the sand, rolling up the pajama pants up to Declan’s knees before taking his hand and leading him into the water.

“What the hell, Kyle?” she turns back to her brother. “Tyler’s been sober for six months. Half a year. And you bring this...” she gestures towards all the empties. “...here? Around a recovering alcoholic?”

“He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you babysitting him.”

“This isn’t about babysitting him. This is about how he still struggles with it and how, of all the things I want him to keep, his sobriety is at the top of the list. Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?”

“That’s rich coming from you, kid. Seeing as you single handily tried to destroy my whole life last night.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do and you know it.”

“No. You just wanted revenge. On Nik. And you didn’t care if I got hurt in the process. Look, I get it. She tried to wreck your marriage. But you guys have nearly wrecked it yourselves a few times. You guys have always been a fucking mess. Right from day one. I mean, look at how things started between you two. Are you trying to tell me that’s normal?”

“I never said it was. I’ve never denied how screwed up it was. But we built on that. Or we’ve tried to, at least. We aren’t perfect but we work hard at things. We bust our asses and make things work when sometimes it would be easier to just walk away. So don’t come to my house and talk shit about my marriage when six months ago all you cared about was finding something warm to stick your dick in.”

“Mommy,” Tanner appears in the doorway. “We’re hungry.”

“I’m coming, baby boy. Give me a minute, okay? You guys get your bowls and your spoons ready. Get Millie to climb up on the counter and get the toaster off the top of the fridge. She knows where the bread is, and she knows how to make toast.”

“Okay,” he cheerfully agrees, and then rushes out and gives her legs a tight hug. “Love you, mommy. Uncle Kyle...” he looks at him, nose wrinkled in disgust. “...you stink.”

Esme places a hand on the back of her son’s head and gently pushes him towards the door. “Go inside. Get things started. And tell your brother it’s his turn fill Mac’s food and water dishes.”

“What if he gets mad about it and hits me?”

“Hit him back. Hard. Don’t take his crap.”

“Okay!” he chirps, and then rushes back into the house, hollering instructions at his siblings.

“Can you at least clean this up?” she asks Kyle, nodding down at the mess of bottles. “I don’t want them seeing this when they come out here with their breakfast.”

He nods in agreement.

“I don’t have time for this, K. Not first thing in the morning. I have to run into town later and if you want to tag along, we could grab something to eat somewhere and talk. I think we need to talk.”

“I think so too.”

“You’re welcome to stay here. If things are that bad with you and Nik. But don’t ever shit talk my husband or my marriage again. You’re the last person I’d take relationship advice from. The fact you’d even hook up with a woman who tried to run my life makes me sick. That’s low, Kyle. That’s really low.”

A loud smack followed by an “Owww! What the hell, Tanner?” breaks some of the tension.

“Mommy said I could if you got lippy.”

“I’ll kick your ass!” TJ rages.

“I’d like to see you try!”

“I’ll kick both your asses!” Millie hollers, and through the window that sits above the sink, Esme can see her daughter standing on the counter in her attempt to get the toaster, glaring down at her brothers.

“Jesus...” Kyle laughs. “...is this every day?”

“This is a tame morning, believe it or not. There’s usually some blood shed by now.”

“Mommy!” Tanner hollers. “Addie’s awake and she’s crying! Lots!”

“Hey!” Esme yells back, knocking on the window. “Tyler James! If you even think about punching your brother in the nuts, I will come in there and put the fear of God into you. What is wrong with you?!”

“He hit me first!”

“Because you gave me the finger when I told you that mommy said to put food and water in Mac’s dishes!” Tanner informs him.

“Mommy, can we put them both up for adoption?” Millie inquires, as she puts the toaster down on the counter and jumps down. “Please? Because this is too much bullshit to put up with!”

Kyle laughs even harder. “Need some help?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. But if I don’t get in there now, there will be a full out brawl between the three of them. And Millie will win. She can take both of them. At the same time.”

He grins. “Tough like her mom.”

“Oh no. She is all her father. Want some breakfast? I promise I’ll feed you more than cheerios and toast.”

“I don’t know. Can you cook better than you make coffee?”

“Tyler told you about my coffee, huh? What a dick. I better get in there. Before someone gets a black eye or a split lip or worse.”

She leans down and presses a kiss to his cheeks, then tousles his hair before heading into the house to tend to the pleas of help from her children.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #best part of me #chris hemsworth character #extraction

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 3 years

Photo

27th December >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

The Holy Family

(Liturgical Colour: White)

Either:

First Reading

Genesis 15:1-6,21:1-3

Your heir shall be your own flesh and blood

The word of the Lord was spoken to Abram in a vision, ‘Have no fear, Abram, I am your shield; your reward will be very great.’ ‘My Lord,’ Abram replied ‘what do you intend to give me? I go childless…’. Then Abram said, ‘See, you have given me no descendants; some man of my household will be my heir.’ And then this word of the Lord was spoken to him, ‘He shall not be your heir; your heir shall be of your own flesh and blood.’ Then taking him outside he said, ‘Look up to heaven and count the stars if you can. Such will be your descendants’ he told him. Abram put his faith in the Lord, who counted this as making him justified. The Lord dealt kindly with Sarah as he had said, and did what he had promised. So Sarah conceived and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the time God had promised. Abraham named the son born to him Isaac, the son to whom Sarah had given birth.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading

Ecclesiasticus 3:2-6,12-14

He who fears the Lord respects his parents

The Lord honours the father in his children, and upholds the rights of a mother over her sons. Whoever respects his father is atoning for his sins, he who honours his mother is like someone amassing a fortune. Whoever respects his father will be happy with children of his own, he shall be heard on the day when he prays. Long life comes to him who honours his father, he who sets his mother at ease is showing obedience to the Lord. My son, support your father in his old age, do not grieve him during his life. Even if his mind should fail, show him sympathy, do not despise him in your health and strength; for kindness to a father shall not be forgotten but will serve as reparation for your sins.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Either:

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 127(128):1-5

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways! By the labour of your hands you shall eat. You will be happy and prosper.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine in the heart of your house; your children like shoots of the olive, around your table.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Indeed thus shall be blessed the man who fears the Lord. May the Lord bless you from Zion all the days of your life!

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Or:

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 104(105):1-6,8-9