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nicascurls · 1 year

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Strangeness and Charm - Part Five

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Season 1 AU where Andy and Kyle arrive at Charles Lee Ray’s old house before Tiffany leaves with Junior and Nica and ultimately save them. Set in 2017, two weeks after Cult since that's when the show was originally mentioned to be set and in my opinion, makes the most sense.

Notes: I did it! I've been caught up with Uni work recently and have exams over the next week but after that I should be free to write more! Yes, I did decide to keep Nathan Cross alive, mainly cause I absolutely despise Lexy's mother in the show and don't want to write her. Also, I had to bring up Andy being a bad driver again, I feel like that would be something brought up frequently amongst the siblings. XD

Tags: @streets-in-paradise @losersclubisms @cult-of-dollbabies @silvershewolf247 @cornerofhell

Before they knew it, Kyle was entering the house with Junior and Caroline in tow. The three made their way past the living room and into the kitchen where Andy and Nica were still sat.

As they entered, Andy got up and made his way over to the kids, Nica following.

Junior crouched down to Caroline's level before introducing them, "Caroline, this is Andy and Nica that we were telling you about. They're our friends, OK? They know about Chucky too and they can keep us safe."

"Chucky's bad." Caroline responds matter of factly. That statement alone caused a brief sense of calm to wash over the adults, with Andy hearing Nica breathe an audible sigh of relief behind him. At least they didn’t have to worry as much about Chucky trying to get Caroline to play any of his ‘games’.

“Exactly, but they already know that and they can keep us safe from Chucky. That’s why we’re going to stay here with Nica,” Both Junior and Caroline looked at Nica as she gave Caroline a small wave which the young girl returned with a shy smile. "Whilst Andy and Kyle will go and help Lexy, Jake and Devon and then they’ll come back here too.” Caroline moved her gaze from Nica up to Andy before turning back to Junior in confusion, “But what about the movie? Me and Lexy were supposed to watch the movie with Mommy and Daddy.”

“I know Care, but we need to be here whilst they stop Chucky to make sure he doesn’t do anything bad there.”

“Maybe once Lexy and the others are back, you could watch the movie here?” Nica suggested, sitting forwards in her chair so she could talk to the girl, “It could be a special surprise for them since they are busy now.” Caroline, nodded eagerly at Nica, with a smile spreading across her face.

“Yeah, we could set up the living room whilst we wait for them.” Junior began to lead Caroline further into the house, “Come on, I'll show you where the blankets are, we could make a fort.”

Nica watched them disappear from sight with a small smile before turning back to the siblings. Kyle had now passed Andy a pair of leather gloves matching the ones that she now wore.

“We better get going,” Andy began “the longer the kids are alone, the more time Chucky has to fuck with them.” Nica gave a small nod of agreement.

“You sure you're gonna be okay with them?” Kyle was now facing Nica, gesturing to the living room where they could hear Junior entertaining Caroline.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You guys definitely have the more difficult job.”

“I dunno about that, I’ve heard blanket fort construction can be pretty taxing stuff.” Andy’s joke caused Nica to smile wider before following them to the door, her nerves for the others beginning to grow.

"Junior gave me the number of the home phone so we will update you when we can." Kyle informed her, checking her gun once again.

“Good luck!” She called just before they closed the door but the siblings got the real message, ‘Please, none of you die.’ Nica took a final deep breath before turning around and wheeling herself over to join the two kids.

"The kids are hiding in the space behind the movie screen." Kyle still insisted on driving to the theatre so Andy was reading the messages from the kids to her and they made their way over. "There's no sign of Chucky or Tiffany from there but Tiffany had a doll with her when she first arrived."

"Right." The two siblings slipped back into a comfortable silence. Andy's mind began to drift back to his past encounters with Chucky, trying to save himself was one thing. That added with multiple kids, rather than just the one one like back at military school, needless to say it felt like much greater weight on his shoulders.

"-anything else?" Andy's head snapped up once he realised Kyle was speaking to him again.

"Sorry what?"

"Nica. Did you find out anything more about Chucky from her?"

"Not really, it's difficult for her to work out what's happened the past few weeks. The most intel she really has is the stuff Tiffany told her and that was all delusional bullshit about her liking Nica better than Chucky and calling them a non-traditional couple."

Andy looked over to see Kyle wearing a strong look of shock and disgust.

"Yeah," Andy responded to her expression "somehow Chucky managed to find someone even more deranged than him."

"So I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that's why Nica was so worried about Junior?"

"Uh huh." With that, Kyle pulled into the parking lot of the theatre, spotting the truck and then Tiffany's car. Good. At least they knew they were still here rather than causing chaos somewhere else.

"You head to the kids, I'll catch up." Kyle instructed, heading in the opposite direction.

"Why? What are you doing?"

"Just trust me on this. I have a plan to make sure he and Tiffany stay put. I'll be there before you know it."

Andy gave a sigh and began to move toward the theatre entrance, "Fine, just don't get killed. Please." He saw Kyle give a thumbs up before moving to meet the kids.

Upon entering, he turned and headed down a corridor to the side. The walls looked bleak and neglected, definitely an area of the building that the guests weren’t meant to see. Andy took in his surroundings as he slowly made his way down the corridor, reaching for his gun so he could have it ready. There were too many shadows, too many places for Chucky to hide.

As he made it towards the end and was met with a door on his right, he deemed it safe to call out, “Kids?” The sound echoed around the empty space for a moment before he heard a voice travel from the left turn at the very end of the corridor.

“Andy? Is that you?” He quickly made his way toward the sound and was met with the three teens as he rounded the corner. Andy let out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding and put the gun away.

“Are you three alright?”

“Yeah, we’re okay. Where’s Kyle?” Jake responded quickly.

“She had a plan to make sure Chucky and Tiffany don’t go anywhere else. She’ll be here soon. Have you seen either of them?”

Devon turned to Lexy who was keeping a watchful eye on the crowd from the side of the screen, especially her parents, before turning to Devon and informing him with a shake of her head. “Not at the moment, just the guests for the movie.”

“I told dad Caroline didn’t want to watch the movie and I would keep an eye on her, so at least that’s handled for now.” Lexy added.

“Chucky’s got to have something else planned, Tiffany wouldn't have had a doll unless there was some part of the plan we don’t know about.”

“Yeah, and the truck would have already left.” Kyle added entering the room. “At least we know Tiffany won’t be now.”

Andy turned to his sister with an intrigued expression, “What did you do?”

“Just fixed the engine of her car… So, it won’t start.” Both siblings gave a smirk as Lexy looked at Kyle with fascination. “How did you do that?”

“She has a vintage car, sure it looks cool but it's easy as hell to get into without a key.”

They were interrupted as a scream pierced the air, soon followed by more and the sound of panicked footsteps.

"Shit!" Andy cried as the five of them began to head to the front of the building to access the cinema itself.

All of them were soon fighting against the hysterical crowd forcing their way out of the building. As they continued to force themselves in the opposite direction, Lexy turned her head and was able to spot her mother safely outside. But not her father. That was when Devon turned and saw Lexy frozen, he gently grabbed her arm and pulled her with him. "Lexy, come on. The best way to make sure they are safe is to stop Chucky." That got her moving again and they both followed the other three into the now, mostly empty room. That's when Lexy heard Jake's voice, "Mr Cross?!" Lexy looked up to see her dad trying to hobble out of the room, blood pouring from one of his legs.

"Dad!" Lexy cried as she ran over to him and put one of his arms over her shoulders.

"Lexy?"

"Dad, it's gonna be okay. We can get you help, we'll get you to hospital-"

"Lexy," Her dad said again.

"Caroline's safe, Junior's watching her and-"

"Lexy, what about you?" Lexy stopped her rambling and looked at her dad.

"Are you safe?"

Lexy looked at him with tears forming in her eyes, suddenly the reality of what Chucky did to her friends became all too real for her. "Yeah, I'll be fine dad. I just need you to be too."

Kyle made her way to the other side of the man and helped him move and turned to Lexy, "Come on, there are ambulances outside."

That was when it dawned on Andy, where Chucky must be. He quickly signalled to the boys, letting them know where the doll was and the two teens crouched down and looked under the seats, with Andy holding his gun ready. Jake suddenly caught a glimpse of the ginger doll running toward the aisle and Lexy and Kyle helping Nathan out.

"Lexy! He's coming, go!" He called out to them and they quickly picked up the pace and disappeared out of the door.

Andy caught sight of the red hair and ran towards him as he began to retreat and scurry between the seats once again.

All in all, the face off was over far sooner than Chucky anticipated. He never wanted the kids to find out who Andy was or what he knew. Needless to say the team up of two of the kids he targeted and and the first kid he terrorised as a doll was far to much for only one of him to handle, bringing Jake's asshole of a father into the conversation and insulting his boyfriend went too far and Jake ended up killing the doll with is own bare hands. Needless to say Andy was thoroughly impressed by how both boys handled the situation. It had been taken care of by the time Kyle and Lexy returned.

Lexy herself was looking a bit better, calmed down by the fact that her father was on the way to hospital with her mother. They all took a minute to catch their breaths before moving on to the next part of the plan.

“Okay, what are we gonna do about the truck?” Kyle asked as they made their way to the front of the building.

“I’ve got it covered.” Andy responded in an instant.

“What? You’re gonna commandeer the truck?” Kyle chuckled, clearly meaning it as a joke and then quickly went silent when Andy didn’t join in. “You can’t be serious.”

“Have you got a better plan when it comes to getting rid of 72 Chucky’s without causing suspicion?”

“With your driving?!”

“For fuck sake, this again?!”

“Yes, this again!”

“Okay, by your logic would you rather my driving be used to transport 72 Killer dolls or three living teens?” Kyle stayed quiet for a few seconds before giving in, “Fine, but Andy I swear you better be back at the house before tomorrow.”

“Yes, mom.” he responded sarcastically before sneaking over to the truck as Kyle ushered the kids back into the car.

The three teens watched with fascination from the back windscreen as Andy knocked out the driver and threw him out of the vehicle before driving past Tiffany and giving her the middle finger.

“Awesome!” Devon exclaimed as they heard Tiffany scream in frustration and fail to start her car, as the car they were in began to speed off.

It was around 15 minutes later that they arrived back at the Wheeler's house, inside Caroline was gleefully adding the finishing touches to the fort, Junior had even ventured into the attic to find some fairy lights from the Christmas decorations for her. The distraction was more than welcome for him, the living room had made him feel far too miserable since his mother died. For the time being he was in the kitchen with Nica, helping to prepare snacks after getting a call from Kyle letting them know that they were on their way back.

“Care?” Lexy called out as the four of them walked through the door. “Lexy!” the girl called out as she ran past Nica in order to meet her sister, followed quickly in tow by Junior.

Nica then made her way to join the rest of them as Caroline excitedly explained to her sister and the rest of the teens about what they had been up to and the plan for the rest of the night. She looked around, amused by the girl’s enthusiasm before realising the absence of one person.

“Where’s Andy?” She asked, doing her best to mask the panic in her voice.

“He’s taking care of the truck of dolls, he promised to be back here before tomorrow.” Kyle informed her, “Don’t worry, if he isn’t i'm gonna go and drag him back here myself.”

“Oh, I wanna see that!” Junior called from the living room, causing everyone to chuckle.

“Anyway, he’ll be fine.” Kyle confirmed.

That’s when Nica heard it, ‘Unless one of me gets to him first.’ ‘Shut up, Chucky.’

“Nica, come on. The movie is gonna start.” Junior called to her from the living room.

#chucky #chucky 2021 #child's play #chucky syfy #andy barclay #kyle simpson #nica pierce #junior wheeler #caroline cross #lexy cross #jake wheeler #devon evans #charles lee ray #tiffany valentine #chucky fanfiction #Strangeness and Charm

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fighterkimburgess · 2 years

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This Wasn’t Supposed To Happen Chapter 21 - Us

Summary: Sylvie and Kelly find out more about their second child, and what family means becomes clear to everyone. Series Masterlist Here

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: doctors appointments

Wanna join my taglist?

—

If there was one thing that her first few weeks taught Sylvie, it was that she wasn’t set up for desk work. She could do the job, but she lived for hearing about the calls from everyone. As nice as it was to leave at five every day, she missed her uncomfortable bunk.

Kelly hovered around her multiple times, checking if she needed anything and bringing her plates of lunch. She tried waving it away - most of the clerical staff didn’t eat with the firefighters and paramedics - but he insisted she ate. It was a weird mixture of being with the folks who went on calls, but she was out of the loop on a lot of things. Plus, she met the folks from the other shifts so she got to learn a little more from them.

Her cast was off and she was doing physical therapy to regain the strength in it. Her ribs were healed, and the day she was able to lift Andy up and cuddle him made her so much happier than she thought she would have been. He grasped onto her and held on, his head in her shoulder as they both enjoyed it. She caught sight of Kelly watching them, tears in his eyes as he took the portrait in front of him in.

Her belly kept getting bigger, the pregnancy that she’d been roughly able to hide now impossible to. It was uncomfortable at the best of times, the weight in front of her different to anything else she’d ever had. Kelly had started helping her rub moisturiser in, giving her a massage. He was there and present for everything they had to do, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

But it was time for their anatomy scan, to fully meet their baby and get to grips with really becoming parents. They’d spent the week before explaining the idea of a baby to Andy. He didn’t really understand it fully, but he’d started running up to Sylvie when she was sitting down and yelling “BABY” to her.

Walking into Med she felt safe, no visible injuries anymore and nothing that would mean she had to stay behind. Everything was going well, flutters in her stomach making it so obvious to her that yes, this baby was growing. Kelly couldn’t feel them yet, but she thought he’d feel it soon. They came into the scan room, Sylvie sitting up on the bed in the middle of the room as Kelly sat beside her.

“Are you scared?” He asked, his voice a bare whisper.

“Terrified. I keep remembering when Gabby was at this stage. But I’m not her, and this pregnancy isn’t the one that ended up with Andy. I’ve never seen someone have an easy pregnancy. We’ll see how it goes from here. But we’re together, right?”

“Even without the baby I’d still be here. You’re not getting away that easily, Brett.”

The technician arrived in, smiling at Sylvie and Kelly as she set up the machine.

“This is your first pregnancy I saw on your chart. Are you excited to be parents?” She asked, Sylvie nodding.

“We’ve got a seventeen month old, but yeah, we are. I’m excited to make sure this little one is safe and healthy.”

“And so I can win the bet with everyone,” Kelly interjected, an eyebrow raise in response. “We work together, our coworkers are convinced she’s having a girl because every child born to our friends has been a boy so far. Purely because of that I think it’s a boy.”

“You just don’t want to have to deal with being the only girl dad. You’re better with Andy!” It was the strange look from the technician that made her continue, addressing her instead. “We adopted our godson after his parents died in a car crash. So first pregnancy, second child.”

“Aww, I love that. This will be cold, but lets see this baby.”

The scan took a lot longer than any of the others, the technician taking measurements and watching how the baby was growing. Sylvie stared at their child on the screen, Kelly gripping her hand in both of his. Every few moments he’d press a kiss to her fingers, squeezing lightly as he stared. She’d have sworn that there was tears in his eyes as he watched the screen, a hand waving and Sylvie shivering at it.

“Can you feel it?”

“Yeah. You’ll feel it soon too.”

“And lets hear that heartbeat. Do you want to know the sex?”

“Yes.” They answered simultaneously as they listened to the pitter patter of the heartbeat, the rapid thumps that told them their child was right there and would be ok.

“Let’s see if if this child is shy. Oh, nope, he’s not.”

“It’s Kelly Severide’s child, of course he’s not…he?” Sylvie trailed off and stared at the smiling technician.

“You’re having a perfectly healthy baby boy. Andy will have a little brother.”

They got the photos printed and stared at them as they waited to go into the doctor, looking carefully at their son.

“I know we’ll probably argue about a middle name, but he’s Matthew, isn’t he?” Sylvie asked, watching Kelly force himself to hold his emotions together.

“Yeah. Fuck. I always thought if I ever had a kid I’d have Matt and Andy here with me. They’d tell me I was doing the wrong thing, stop me from killing my kid. But they’re gone.”

“We’ll keep them alive for the boys. They’ll learn all about their dad’s friends, about the men we named them after. So Andy can know about his dad, and our Matt can know about the two of them. Our boys aren’t going to grow up not knowing about them.”

“It’s weird, y’know? Andy’s ours, but he’s yours. I don’t have anything legal for him.”

“We’ll fix that. Before Matt arrives.”

“The name suits him.” Kelly rested his hand on her bump, and they sat with their joint grief in the waiting room, the pain hitting them again. This time instead of dealing with it alone they held onto each other, encouraging the other to know that there was someone there.

When they came back into the office their hands stayed linked, even when the doctor came in. Sylvie refused to let go of the comfort that Kelly gave her.

“I can confirm everything looks normal here, folks. Baby Brett is growing well, and you’re dating at twenty two weeks. Does that sound about right?” She asked, Sylvie nodding.

“Yeah, it’s right. Kind of hard to believe at this point that I’m more than halfway there.”

“It’s just going to go faster. Have you got anything set up yet?” Kelly nodded at the question.

“We’ve got all the furniture from our oldest, so that’s easier. Plus a lot of his clothes I think.”

“I thought this was…” She trailed off, flicking through Sylvie’s file.

“My first pregnancy. We adopted our eldest last year.” Her words left no space to argue with her, a nod from the doctor.

“Ah, understood. Thanks.”

The rest of the appointment went more smoothly, and they slipped into Kelly’s car. His hand barely left hers apart from when she got into the car, and even when he got into his side he took it again.

“I meant what I said, you know.” Kelly turned his head as they were at a stop light. “I’m getting in touch with the court, we don’t even need a lawyer. You’re Andy’s dad, you’re adopting him. As long as you want to.”

“Yeah…yeah I do. I didn’t think you wanted me to do it.”

“There’s nobody else I’d rather do it. I mean it.”

They were quiet on the rest of the drive, both caught in their own thoughts. It was so much to deal with, Sylvie’s mind spinning. They’d started running as soon as the relationship had started, and part of that scared her. But as she thought about it it was completely right. They’d had so many false starts, and was it really them if they didn’t rush through the traditional relationship stuff?

“Where are we going?” Sylvie asked as they passed the turn they should have taken instead heading towards Wicker Park.

“Molly’s. Herrmann asked me to stop by, is that ok?”

“Sure.”

She pulled out her phone and started going through the list of things she’d need that she’d written. Most of it she already had from Andy so she could delete a lot of it, especially the clothes. They had enough anyway. A little part of her was disappointed that she wouldn’t get to do the usual pregnancy things, but it was how things happened. She’d still rope Kelly into coming shopping with her for a new stroller that could fit the two boys in it. But they had to get a toddler bed for Andy, turning what had been Kelly’s room into the new nursery for Matt. They could see how things went as time continued.

When they pulled up to Molly’s the lights were off, Sylvie staring at the bar.

“Are you sure he’s here?”

“He’s doing inventory. Coming in? And are we gonna tell him the sex?” Kelly smiled that crooked smile, and she felt her heart beat a little faster.

“He won’t give up if we don’t tell him, so yeah. Let’s do it.”

Kelly walked into the bar first, holding the door open as Sylvie came through it. But inside were all their friends and coworkers, balloons and smiles on faces as they yelled surprise at her.

“What…what is this?” She asked, staring at them all.

“Your baby shower. It’s your first pregnancy, you’re getting spoilt.” Donna Boden was the first to greet her, arms wrapping around Sylvie with a smile on her face. Andy ran straight to her and Sylvie lifted him up, balancing him around her bump while she still could.

There was a pile of gifts for her, most of them things that were actually for Sylvie, rather than for the baby. There were pampering sets and boxes of chocolates, along with three really large boxes of diapers. They were from premie to a few months old, Sylvie smiling at them.

“This is from everyone at 51. If it doesn’t work we’ll get you the store credit and you can pick what you want, but they said it’d be ideal for you.” Boden pushed a huge box into the middle of the room, Sylvie staring at it. Kelly looked just as surprised to see it, but everyone was waiting for them to open it.

“Did we miss everything? We got stuck in traffic!” Sylvie turned to see her mom and dad rushing into the bar, slightly red faced and worried. But she grinned, both of them hugging her as tightly as they could.

“Gamma! Hi Gamma!” Andy said, insisting on getting into his grandmother’s arms. Monica just took him, revelling in the hug from her grandson.

“Mom, Dad, this is Kelly.”

“Mr and Mrs Brett.” He held out his hand, John taking it and shaking once before pulling Kelly in for a hug. Monica did the same with her free arm, kissing his cheek and making the younger man flush.

“You’re just in time, Mr and Mrs Brett. Do you want to sit?” Violet brought them around so Kelly and Sylvie could open the present, ripping the large sheets of wrapping paper from around it.

It was a multi child stroller, like one of the ones Sylvie had really wanted but thought they couldn’t justify. There was space for two children in it, and a standing board so if Andy wanted to stand as she pushed they could. The smile couldn’t leave her face as she looked at it.

“Thank you. All of you.” She couldn’t quite believe it, Kelly pressing a kiss to her temple as he smiled. He gave her a look and she nodded quickly, letting him give this news to their friends, their family.

“We found out today that we’re having a boy. We’re gonna name him Matthew.” The room burst into applause, tears in the eyes of the people who’d been close to Matt and Gabby. The rest of the afternoon was filled with hugs, people filing out until Kelly, Sylvie, her parents, and Andy were some of the last there.

“I’ll use the minivan to get the box to your place, don’t worry. Go spend time with your parents,” Herrmann told her, giving her a final hug. “We’re all happy for you. You know that, right?”

“I know. Thank you.”

They walked outside, Andy holding Kelly’s hand and grinning as he did.

“Do you want to get dinner? There’s a great diner a couple of blocks away, we stop in for milkshakes every so often.” There was an awkwardness between Kelly and her parents, but Sylvie was proud of him for making the effort with them.

“That’d be nice. It’s later than we thought, we should get on the road.”

“Stay with us.” Sylvie gawked at Kelly when he finished speaking. “Andy hasn’t seen you in a couple of months, we’ve a spare bedroom. If there isn’t anything you specifically can’t do here, stay with us.”

Monica and John mulled it over for a moment but nodded, looking at the little family. “Thank you, that’d be wonderful.”

They sat at a booth, Andy on the edge in a high chair. He kept grasping at everyone’s food, not content to eat his own toddler sized grilled cheese. But the mood was high among the four adults, things easing between them all. Even that evening once Andy was in bed they sat on the couch and watched a movie. Sylvie felt weird being held by Kelly with her parents in the room but she pushed that weirdness away, taking his hand and putting it on her belly when she could feel Matt’s kicks. He couldn’t feel them yet, but he smiled every time she did it.

The next morning Kelly had shift, Sylvie going into work with him. Cindy still took Andy for the full twenty four hours so they could keep him in a routine, and he wasn’t happy saying goodbye to his grandparents. But he got into the car with Kelly, Sylvie hugging them goodbye.

“Thanks for being here,” she murmured to her mom, a tight squeeze in response.

“It’s not every day our eldest has her baby shower. We’re so proud of you. And Kelly’s a good man. I know there’s been issues but I think you’re both happy now.”

“We are. I’m lucky.”

“Good. I’ll tell you when we get home.”

“Love you, Mom.” She pulled her mom in for another squeeze before doing the same to her dad.

“We love you too. Don’t be late.”

It was a quick drive, dropping Andy off and heading to 51. Before they got out of the car Sylvie pulled Kelly across to her, giving him a kiss. They tended to stop any PDA before they reached the firehouse, neither particularly comfortable with it in work. He looked at her confusedly before they got out of the car.

“My mom said you’re a good man.” His face brightened, the two holding hands as they got inside.

Her shift passed quickly, a wave to her friends and a squeeze of Kelly’s hand before she left. It was her normal night alone when Kelly was on shift, curling up on the couch with popcorn and House Hunters. Every few minutes the bowl on her belly would shake slightly as Matt nudged her. It was barely noticeable, but she knew she had to tell Kelly as soon as she could. He’d want to try feel the movements.

The next morning she got in early, Squad just returning from a call. When Kelly saw her he pulled her into a cuddle, holding her tightly against his chest.

“Bad call?”

“The worst. I just need to know you’re here.”

She held onto him, giving him the comfort and support he needed even in the middle of the app floor. He needed her and if she could give it to him then she would.

“I love you,” Sylvie whispered as he finally let go, her hand cupping his sooty cheek.

“I love you too. So much.” She got on tiptoes to kiss him, the bump almost but not quite getting in the way of what she wanted to do.

All too soon it was time for her to start work, a final goodbye to Kelly and checking in on everyone else who’d been at the fire. It was a gas leak in a home that had exploded, a family gone in a matter of seconds. She hugged and cared for everyone the same, making sure they knew she was there for them, But she had to sit and work, staring at her computer when she wanted to be there with her boyfriend and son, making sure Kelly was ok.

That night when she got home from work she wasn’t sure what was going on. The living area of the condo was quiet, nobody around.

“Kelly? Andy? Where are you?”

“Mama! Bed Mama!” She followed Andy’s voice to her bedroom, stopping still at the doorway. Andy was in a mini suit, a grin on his face. Kelly was in a matching one, a yellow tie around his neck as he held Andy and smiled at Sylvie staring at them. The room was lit by electric candles, the soft light making it glow.

“I’m not dressed for anything fancy.” The words slipped out of Sylvie’s mouth as she watched them, Kelly smiling wider.

“You always look fancy. But this is you and me, and our boys. Because I want to remind you that we love you. There’s a dress and shoes on the bed, we’ve got dinner reservations.”

He left her to get dressed, Sylvie slipping on the full skirted outfit and doing a twirl. Kelly hadn’t left her much time but she did the most basic makeup before stepping out into the living room. Her boys were there waiting for her, a toothy grin on Andy’s face seeing her.

“You look beautiful.” Kelly kissed her gently, and Matt moved in her belly. She took her boyfriend’s hand and pushed it against where their second child had kicked, waiting for Matt to do it again. He did, Kelly brightening even more.

“That’s our boy?”

“That’s him. Let’s go to these reservations.”

As she walked out of the condo carrying Andy, Kelly close behind her, there was nothing else Sylvie Brett could have wished for in that moment. Despite the trials and struggles she had her boys and she couldn’t wait for their family to grow and be permanent.

#Sylveride #Sylvie Brett x Kelly severide #Kelly severide x Sylvie Brett #Sylvie Brett #Kelly severide

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babyboibucky · 3 years

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Deserve Better

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky disappeared and came back only to say goodbye.

Word Count: 2,887

Warnings: angsty angsty angsty angsty angsty

A/N: Post-endgame timeline with lotsa angst! Included Andy Barber here because why the fuck not but he’s really not a major character lol

Deserve Better || Undeserving || Deserve The Best

MAIN MASTERLIST

The day you got Bucky back was the same day he said goodbye. He left you— said it was for the best— just as when your fingertips touched him for the first time after five years of longing.

Your reunion with Bucky after the snap was nothing like the movies, far from it actually. A lot of things happened when he was snapped back, in between the battle with Thanos and Tony’s funeral. Besides, you weren’t an Avenger; you didn’t work for SHIELD nor the CIA. In fact, you remained oblivious of the battle that was going on until the moment of chaos caused by the sudden reappearances of half of the world’s population.

And then you received a message from Steve, about the tragedy and the sacrifice of Tony Stark. He was inviting you to the funeral and as much as you felt devastated from the loss of a hero, you couldn’t help but focus your attention on the last line of Steve’s message.

Bucky’s going to be there too. He’s back. He needs you to be there with him.

It wasn’t until the funeral was over that you finally got to have Bucky all to yourself. You had locked gazes when you arrived and staring back into his beautiful blue eyes again made your knees weak.

Bucky was really back.

“Hi.” He greeted you first, his voice remained the same— soft and gentle.

One word was enough to make you feel the warmth of his existence. Hearing him, seeing him again felt like finally coming home after a very long, tiring day.

“Hi, Buck.” You whispered.

Bucky’s smile was all it took for the dam to finally break. You’d burst into tears right then and there and you were more than ready to feel his arms around you after years of hugging yourself to sleep during his absence.

But the warmth never came. If any, Bucky stopped himself from doing so. You frowned when he took a step back from you, extending his metal arm to keep you at a certain length away from him.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered, refusing to meet your gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I have to go.” He explained, gently squeezing your arm before rubbing circles on your skin using his thumb.

You didn’t understand why Bucky needed to go when he just got back. You just got him back. You had spent years crying over his disappearance only for him to come back and disappear again?

Bucky explained that he thought he got better but things have become so vastly different after the snap that it left him feeling broken and different again. He told you about Steve’s decision to go back in time, never to return again. How Tony’s death made him feel like it was too late to set things straight and how he would probably carry the guilt and regret from not being able to apologize for what he had done.

“I’ll help you, Buck. We’ll work through this together. I want to be by your side when things get better.” You insisted, tears blurring your vision as you tried to reach for Bucky, wanting to feel him again after such a long time.

But Bucky kept on moving away from you, he kept on pushing you away and you wanted to understand why he wouldn’t let you touch him.

“I’ll only hurt you, I don’t want that to happen. I want to get better because you deserve better. But I can’t do that with you because this...this is something that I gotta figure out by myself.” He further explained.

You shook your head, unable to accept his decision. “Buck...I don’t think I can lose you again. I just got you back...I can’t afford to lose you again, please?”

When you attempted to reach for Bucky’s hand, he finally let you. You quickly entwined your fingers through his metal ones and savored how they felt against your skin. They were cold as usual, but Bucky always oozed a certain warmth that made you feel safe.

But now they’re just that— cold and hard.

“I love you. I’ll wait, Bucky.” You murmured and tugged at his hand before he could even let you go.

Bucky smiled sadly at you, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You shook your head and brought Bucky’s hand to your lips as you cried, “I want to. And I will.”

Pressing one final kiss on his hard knuckles, you watched Bucky slip his hand away from yours before turning around to leave. You felt your chest tighten as if you lost all the oxygen in your lungs the same way you lost Bucky.

Losing him the second time around proved to be even more painful. Because this time, he didn’t just disappear.

He walked away.

You waited for Bucky to come home to you for days and weeks until they turned into months...and then years. Still, no Bucky walked through your doorstep but you never stopped hoping.

Sleep was such a rare occurrence to you since Bucky walked away. How do you honestly cope with the loss of someone when you haven’t even healed yet from his first disappearance? You wanted to get mad at him, curse him for suddenly deciding to leave you. But you felt selfish for even thinking about that, because Bucky left to better himself.

To be better for you. He said so himself.

So you kept waiting for him to come back. You made it your reason to keep going. You looked forward to the day you’d hear your door open followed by his heavy foot steps. You wondered, would he smell the same then? Would he still be using your favorite perfume on him? One that smelled like cedar wood and mint and well, Bucky. Would his hair still be of the same length? What about his beard? Would he shave them off before coming back home?

How about his gaze? Would his blue ones still look at you as if you were his moon?

As much as these thoughts made you miss him more, they were the ones that you held onto. They were like your glimmer of hope on nights you were the loneliest, on nights you cried and dreamt of his return only to wake up to an empty, cold space beside you.

You held onto these thoughts every single day in hopes of them becoming real soon enough.

People have told you to move on, to not waste your time waiting for someone who walked away just like that. But you trusted Bucky when he said he wanted to be better because you deserved better. You couldn’t move on, not from Bucky.

You love him with your entire being, so much that his absence caused you physical pain too. You couldn’t even find the right words to describe how much you love Bucky.

In the three years that you spent waiting, you’d met a lot of people too. People who showed interest but none of them really won you over.

You’d met a man named Andy through work. He was a lawyer and was dealing with his own divorce. The connection was there and you wouldn’t deny that.

Two people dealing with the grief from losing someone they love, it wasn’t that hard not to find a common ground. And you did find some solace in Andy and him in you. But it was just that, nothing more and nothing less.

“How has it been?” You asked Andy after he had settled into the booth across of you.

The restaurant was surprisingly scarce on a Sunday morning. Usually there were plenty of customers, their chatters overpowering the soft music playing in the background. Now, it was peaceful and the radio was turned off. There were only the clinks of plates of being set on tables and the footsteps of the staff walking around the place as they attended to the few customers around.

It was serene and peaceful, pretty much like Andy’s aura when he arrived.

“I wouldn’t say I’m fine but I guess I’m at a much better place now than before.” He said with a nod, as if he was finally agreeing with himself after questioning his emotions for the past few months.

You offered a kind smile and placed a hand on top of his, “It shows, Andy. I’m glad. I’m happy for you.” You said.

He had been going through a lot of emotions since he signed the divorce papers. He didn’t want to but knew it was for the best. Andy had a son, Jacob, and he didn’t want for his son to grow up in an environment where his parents no longer slept on the same bed. As much as he loved Laurie, the relationship was no longer working and was becoming toxic the more they stayed together.

“And you?” Andy asked back before calling the waiter.

You let out a deep breath, “Still waiting.” You chuckled as your stared at your hand that remained on top of Andy’s.

Andy spared you an apologetic glance but nodded, “I do hope he knows how lucky he is.” He said, turning his palm up so he could hold your hand.

To others, the gesture may seem romantic but it really wasn’t. You and Andy both knew that despite the similarities and the comfort you found in each other, the both of you were not meant to be together in that way.

Your heart still belonged to Bucky after all.

When you received an invitation from Sam Wilson, you felt confused and excited. There was going to be a huge gala at the compound to honor Steve Rogers’ legacy as Captain America.

You’d heard the news about Steve’s passing not long after he went back in time. He finally got to live the life he deserved and when he came back, it was as if everything had been corrected. He may no longer be the super soldier that many knew but he remained the same person— but he wasn’t the man out of time anymore. Despite his white hair and wrinkles, Steve looked the happiest he had ever been.

You wondered how Bucky coped up with such a huge loss, you always worried for him.

It sparked debate though, Steve’s decision to leave the Avengers. Some got angry, said that Steve was selfish for doing that. Others showed sympathy, that Steve didn’t owe the world anything. He’d spent a lifetime fighting for everyone. It was time that he fought for himself and what he deserved. And Sam fought just as hard for Steve’s legacy and finally, all his hard work finally paid off.

What confused you was whether Bucky was going to be there? Does he know about the gala? Was he finally back? If he was, why hasn’t he come home to you yet? You had so many questions that you wanted to ask.

The answers though, were literally in the palm of your hand— the invitation.

It was no surprise how big the gala was. Just on your way inside, you’d already come across a lot of big personalities. There were politicians and popular celebrities too. You felt intimidated given that you went by yourself and that you weren’t really part of their world.

You were just you, someone who had fallen in love with one Bucky Barnes who introduced you to the world of superheroes. The rest was history.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” You turned around and found Sam approaching you with a huge smile.

You embraced him and smiled as you pulled away, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” You told him.

It was Steve and Sam that you’d met first and they were nothing but kind to you. Despite being well, ordinary, they welcomed you like their own when Bucky had introduced you.

Sam’s expression changed at your response, “I honestly thought that you wouldn’t show up after Bucky said—“

“Bucky?” You immediately cut him off upon hearing his name.

“Bucky’s back?” You asked and Sam had never looked more confused as ever.

He carefully nodded, brows knitting together as he frantically looked around. “I thought you knew about it.”

“How long? How long has it been since he came back, Sam?” You probed, feeling your throat constricting at the unexpected revelation.

Sam merely looked at you with what seemed to be pity. Why? Why was he looking at you like he was sorry? And why didn’t Bucky tell you when he came back? Was he simply not ready? Or was he waiting for the right time?

“Sam, how long?” You asked again, voice firmer this time around.

“A year ago. He decided to join the Avengers but wanted to undergo formal training before taking on the responsibility of one.” He responded.

You opened your mouth to say something but it’s as if your whole body was paralyzed. He had been back for an entire year now...and yet he kept you waiting?

A hand on your arm pulled you back to the surface, looking up at Sam you shook your head in utter confusion.

“I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me.”

Sam sighed, “I thought you knew. He said he saw you and—“

Sam’s words died on his tongue when he saw that your attention was no longer on him. Following the line of your sight, Sam turned around and saw that Bucky had walked into the venue. He swallowed and couldn’t hide the guilt he felt from assuming that you knew about his return. Before he could apologize, you’d brushed past him as you kept your gaze on Bucky.

Why he didn’t inform you of his return was beyond you and to be honest, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about it for now. Because Bucky was right in front of you and it felt like forever since you last saw him.

A lot has changed. He chopped off his hair but he still sported some scruff. Bucky looked closer to his younger self back in the 40’s. You remembered the conversation you had with him about cutting his hair.

“Should I cut it?” Bucky stood in your bathroom, observing his long locks in the mirror as he ran his fingers through them.

You walked over to him, hugging him from behind and pressing your lips on his back before moving to stand beside him.

“Do you want to?” you asked.

Bucky scrunched his nose, “Maybe in the future. I do miss my hair back then.” he smiled.

You chuckled, “Back when Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes used to sweep the ladies off of their feet?” you teased.

Bucky turned to you and wrapped an arm around your wait pulling you closer to kiss your lips, “Hmm, I wanna see if that hair will have the same effect on you.” he said and kissed your cheek.

You hummed as you caressed his face with your delicate hands, “I’d like to see that too, but maybe you should keep the scruff.”

But it wasn’t just his hair that changed. It was his entire demeanor— his aura seemed a lot lighter now, he seemed happier and confident. You knew it for a fact because he wasn’t wearing a glove to hide his metal hand. It was out on display for everyone to see and shake, apparently.

You watched in awe as Bucky interacted with the people around him. He used to avoid eye contact with strangers but now he seemed relaxed doing so. Although he would still open and close his metal hand, something he did whenever he was anxious. The crowd still made him uncomfortable but he’s shown a lot of improvement since then.

The question as to why he never told you about his return continued to linger in the back of your head. But you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling from ear to ear, eyes brimming with tears as you quickened your steps.

Your Bucky was finally back.

And then the world seemed to have stopped when a certain blonde walked over to Bucky, her hand sliding over to his cheek as she leaned up to press a quick peck on his lips.

You knew her of course, Sharon Carter; and you knew about her and Steve. It was Bucky himself who told you about them and how proud he was that Steve finally decided to try his luck at romance. Which is why you felt even more appalled at the scene playing before you.

The way Bucky slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him and how he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. How he was smiling down at her, whispering to her ear as they laughed.

Bucky was in love with Sharon. You didn’t have to ask him that anymore because he was looking at her like she was his moon, his source of light in the darkness.

You knew that because he looked at you the same way, back when you still had his heart.

Suddenly, the questions plaguing your mind found their answers. You understood now why he never came home to you.

He did get better, you could tell that by the way he smiled and laughed.

Bucky was better now, but not for you. At least, not anymore.

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky x you #bucky x reader #sebastian stan

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farfarawaygirl · 2 years

Note

Neither LI is that appealing to me, but I’m going to give Kanoa’s character another week to thaw and have more interactions/spark with Lucy (and hopefully Tim) but if you had creative control, how would you have had Chenford realizing feelings this season? Would you bring in LIs? Or something completely different? Apologies if you’ve answered this before!

This is such a GREAT ASK! So, thank you for it!

I am with you on the fact that neither LI is appealing, but I can’t tell if that is intentional or not? Or even, really if Chris/Kenoa is a LI. I’m holding out hope that he isn’t - just for some variety, even though I fully support Lucy being able to get love! We’re in a bit of a weird spot with it. Even if Chris apologizes I still wouldn’t be invested, because that type of rudeness and arrogance he displayed is usually just who a person is if they show it. For you and @cfr749 I will give Chris a one week chance to turn shit around.

I’m still hoping he can be a professional nemesis- and I know @literali1110 is on my side with that!

If I was in charge, I would not go the alternative LI route. Because it is played out. A lot of other shows, slow burn couples, or will they/won’t they couples have used this, and it is not my cup of tea. I can’t really think of a time where I have liked the alternative LI other than Royal Gardner in Anne of the Island or Nick Collins in Rookie Blue. Not in Austen, not in any more modern fiction, definitely not in Bones, or Chuck, or really any show where I was certain of who I wanted to be together.

With Royal Gardner, I liked him because he was the actual human embodiment of Anne’s ideal - and still in flesh and bones he was nothing compared to Gilbert. She learned from Roy, and it changed her for the better, and gave both Gilbert and Anne time to focus on other goals. It is different with Nick Collins, because he actually far eclipsed Sam Swarek for me. I was a hardcore Sam/Andy shipper, but then Nick was there and he fit with Andy is such a more complementary way. It was a total game changer for me - but the difference with that alternative LI was that Nick was a regular cast member who had been allowed to grow and fail on his own. I loved him because I knew him.

We don’t know Ashley or Chris. Consequently, I am never going to root for them. (Maybe that is the whole Bailey problem in a nutshell?)

I would want a stunning revelation. Like having the both of them at Tim’s house, and Cujo (let me have this spelling a while longer) is there, and maybe Tamara is working on an essay in the corner. It’s been a long day, because this morning Lucy insisted they all go on this hike, and it was sweaty and gross and too long by about four miles, but she made Tim carry Cujo and she bribes Tamara and she made them finish. Their plans had ended there, but when Tim went to drop them off at their apartment they had learned that water main was out.

Instead, they had grabbed bags and set up camp at Casa Bradford.

Tim had expected to be annoyed, but instead, as they settled into some sort of afternoon, he had found himself feeling happy instead.

Tamara was working on an essay, but she kept asking them policing questions between flipping in a textbook for answers. Lucy had made unsweetened cool tea for them to drink, and when she joined Tim back on the couch, her freshly showered hair had tickled at his arm. Everything had been easy. He hadn’t once felt overwhelmed, not even when Lucy had badgered him into showing her what project he was working on and he had ushered her into his home office.

Slowly her fingers had traced over the map he was building, a better way to run patrols for their station. He had watched her bite her lip and look up at him, pride and admiration shining in her eyes. It always made Tim feel off balance when she looked at him like that.

That had been nice and all, but it wasn’t until Tim returned from the grocery store to find Lucy playing oldies in his kitchen, dancing carelessly in an effort to make Tamara laugh, that he knew.

This was what he wanted to come home to.

It was what he had been chasing his whole life. Across football fields, and through minefields in the sand, right back into the sharp edges of LA - where he had almost believed that loving Isobel was enough to make up for the way she never loved him back - until he was bleeding out in a back alley, or digging Lucy from the dirt.

“I’m in love with you,” Tim’s voice didn’t carry across the distance, because was still spinning, her hair now dry and tangled around her head.

“What?” She shouted.

Tim tried again, “I love this song,” but he saw the shrewd look in Tamara’s eyes. Lucy held out her hand, it was an easy decision, Tim took it in his. He was never going to let go.

I mean, if want something like that. It would require so much ground work, so much Chenford building. I still believe.

#chenford #emma shouts into the void #the rookie #Tim Bradford #Lucy Chen #Royal Gardner #Anne Shirley #gilbert blyth #Nick collins #andy mcnally #sam swarek

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sixth-light · 3 years

Note

LOL Nicky loves olives and Joe hates them?

I’m not sure if you meant this as a prompt but I’m gonna blithely take it as one regardless (and also declare it a retroactive quasi-fill of @wanderingandfound‘s prompt “Nile PoV, everyone's favorite foods. Bonus points for things being old enough they're no longer made the same and/or Andy's locate-origin-of-baklava-by-taste superpower.”)

All of the immortals - the immortals who weren’t Nile, that was - seemed to have some fairly...weird...tastes in food. Nile guessed that was just what happened when you lived long enough, sort of the same thing as her grandmother’s love for really strong mints, but with centuries and millennia behind it. Andy just ate anything. Really, anything. Quỳnh ate slices of lemon like they were oranges. Joe sometimes cooked things until they were a little burned, on purpose, and said it reminded him of his younger days. Nile knew it was on purpose because everybody else’s food would be exactly as they liked it. Once she had walked into the kitchen and found Booker eating a bowl of frozen peas with a spoon. She hadn’t bothered to ask.

So, on this scale, Nicky lying on the porch reading a book and eating olives out of a jar with a - she squinted - stiletto knife wasn’t even worth mentioning. She declined politely when he offered her one; she didn’t mind them on pizza but they weren’t really her idea of a snack. She’d had a terrible craving for Twizzlers three days ago but they were in Kenya and she had no idea where she could find any, if they even had them, which they probably didn’t.

“Well, let me know if you want one,” Nicky said, and ate another one off the end of his knife.

“He’s lying, they’ll all be gone in half an hour,” said Andy. She was cleaning a pair of binoculars, polishing and then checking the horizon and then sighing and polishing again; there had been an unfortunate gun oil incident. And blood. But according to Andy that had all come off right away, the gun oil was the problem.

“I’ll take my chances,” Nile said, sitting down cross-legged next to Andy. They were in the ‘wait’ part of ‘hurry up and wait’.

“Can I have one, babe?” Joe said.

To Nile’s surprise, Nicky lowered the book to frown at him. “Really?”

“Yes,” Joe insisted, holding out his hand. Nicky sighed and gave him an olive. Joe popped it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and then his face screwed up like he’d bitten into an onion or something. He made a sad, negatory noise, then swallowed. “No. Ugh. Time to find some water.”

Nicky laughed softly, shaking his head; Andy outright cackled.

“What’s so funny?” Quỳnh called from inside.

“Joe ate an olive!”

Quỳnh laughed, too.

“Enough!” Joe came back out. “It was worth a try.”

“My heart,” Nicky said very seriously, “every century, you say it is worth a try, and every time -”

“The oil is so good! It doesn’t make sense. And who knows, sometimes things start tasting better.” Joe shrugged. “Someone grows a better one. It happens with all sorts of things. Oranges weren’t any good for centuries.”

“I’ll call that something to look forward to,” Nile said, leaning back on her elbows. “They’ve already improved Brussels sprouts, and that’s just while I’ve been alive.”

“There you go,” Joe said. “So, every once in a while, I see if they’ve fixed olives yet.” He pulled a face. “Not this century.”

Booker poked his head out of the house. “I’m making coffee. Who wants one?” He got three hands; everybody except Nicky.

“Wherever we go next,” Nile said, “can it be somewhere I can get some American junk food? I really want a Twizzler.”

“I have no idea what that is and I don’t really want to ask,” Andy said. “But sure. We can do that, next downtime.”

“Cool,” Nile said, and looked up at the clouds getting heavier with rain, and thought about trying something once a century, just to see if maybe you liked it this time.

Yeah. She could get used to that.

#the old guard #my fanfic #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolò di genova #team fic #avengersnewb

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renjunbae · 3 years

Text

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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teawaffles · 3 years

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The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 2

“Oh my…… I thought this would be nothing more than a war game, but it’s certainly more nerve-wracking than I expected.”

The participants had taken their places, and around five minutes had passed since the game began. Kevin was whispering to Albert beside him as they walked, while pointing the gun he’d received in every direction around him. But in contrast to the jittery man, Albert had the relaxed air of a soldier.

“Certainly, this is a feeling of tension one wouldn’t normally get to experience. In fact, the enemy might just be around that corner.”

“What!? Really?”

Panicked, Kevin’s eyes darted all around them in a fluster. That disproportionate reaction elicited a wry laugh from Albert.

“Although it’s important to be aware of your surroundings, if you’re that stiff, your movements will be slow when it’s time to fight. Please relax a little.”

“I-I see. Yes, you’re right……”

Kevin nodded. Beside him, Albert’s guard was impeccable as he watched the leaves swaying in the slight breeze.

The playing field encompassed the entire forest. That said, as it wasn’t a vast area, there was no danger of getting lost. In addition, there was a little cabin in the woods, used on a daily basis by the gamekeeper who managed the hunting grounds; as they had obtained permission to use it during the game, indoor battles were also an option.

For the purposes of safety, all players were obliged to wear spectacles shaped to resemble goggles, as well as bulletproof vests. The guns they had been issued fell into two categories: revolvers and sniper rifles. As a forfeit, and also to pass the time, eliminated players were tasked to feed pheasant chicks at a game bird nursery a good distance away.

Incidentally, Herder had also wanted to impose a severe punishment in the event a gun was damaged. Foreseeing that this would create needless worry, Moran and the others had swiftly hushed him before the words left his mouth.

Thinking back to the explanation of the rules, Kevin looked at the revolver in his hand.

“In any case, this gun is exquisitely crafted. As it was mentioned earlier that the guns used fake bullets, I imagined it would resemble a toy, but it looks exactly like the real thing.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, though it’s all due to Herder’s exceptional skill. I heard he oversaw the creation of these weapons down to the finest details.”

Kevin looked at the card attached to his gun with string. Written on it was a number 8.

“I see: so this is a measure to prevent the guns from getting lost. But if they are so important, I thought it would be safer to carve the numbers directly onto them.”

“You may be right; in which case, we may’ve caused everyone some inconvenience.”

Albert said that with a slightly apologetic tone, and Kevin waved it off.

“No, no — if anything, it reflects his passion, and I honestly respect that. Even though I work in a different field, I have a lot to learn from him as a professional.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sure Herder would be delighted to hear that,” Albert replied, with sincere joy.

However, in an instant, Kevin’s expression seemed to grow a little darker.

“Still, maybe I shouldn’t have brought Helena here after all. She absolutely insisted on coming, so I relented, but with the guns looking so real, that…… I wonder if it’ll remind her of that incident.”

Albert could sense what he was trying to say.

“For that, I sincerely apologise. This event must seem somewhat inappropriate after what she went through.”

Hearing Albert take his remark so seriously, Kevin tried to explain himself in a fluster.

“N-No, it’s alright, I did not mean it as criticism. Besides, Helena seemed to be especially enjoying herself too.”

“Nonetheless, please allow me to apologise, for it may be the case that she’s simply putting up a strong front.”

At that, Kevin cocked his head in confusion.

“……Then, why did you decide to hold this game?”

Albert’s reply sounded almost as if he was speaking to himself.

“——Because it’s part of our ‘plan’.”

“Huh?”

Unsure of the meaning behind that word, the question fell from his lips before he could stop himself. But Albert did not elaborate further.

The conversation had unwittingly ground to a halt. Just as Kevin was searching for a different topic to talk about, Albert’s sharp gaze landed on a nearby thicket.

“There’s someone there.”

“Huh? Really?”

Bewildered, Kevin looked in the same direction. Then they heard the sound of leaves rustling, and the undergrowth parted to reveal an elderly nobleman.

Seeing the person before them, Albert lowered his gun. A warm smile rose to his face.

“……So it was you, Lord Andy. I thought you were the enemy.” [1]

“Hello, Albert-kun. Just for fun, I thought I’d hide and see how long it took you both to spot me, but it seems you discovered me instantly. As expected of the young, your perceptiveness is incredibly sharp,” he laughed, ruffling his own short white hair. He was also on the same team as Albert and Kevin.

The elderly nobleman was Andy Krueger, whose estate extended across the surrounding lands; he also owned the hunting grounds on which the game was being held. Today’s game had been brought into reality after Albert proposed the idea to him.

For such an important gathering on the social calendar, one would normally be hesitant to transform it into an unorthodox event like this. But Andy had jumped at the offer, and even offered his opinions on the finer points of the game. Because of this generous and broad-minded nature of his, he also had the trust of the other nobles.

At the man’s arrival, for some reason, Kevin sighed in relief.

“Please don’t surprise me like that — unlike Lord Albert, I was frightened half to death.”

“Sorry about that, Kevin-kun. But aren’t you being too timid? Have a little more nerve!”

“I’ll do my best.”

At their friendly banter, Albert seemed curious.

“Are both of you already acquainted?”

“Yes,” Kevin affirmed. “We got to know each other when Helena’s father and I were gaining recognition in London. Ever since that time, the nobility had not looked fondly upon us, and only Lord Andy treated us as equals.”

Kevin looked gratefully at the nobleman as he said this, and Andy clapped his shoulder heartily.

“Those aristocrats are really quite averse to the changing times, it seems. But I have no interest in such dreadful traditions. Even at the gathering earlier, they were keeping their distance and saying such rude things that I had to tell them off. Although I hadn’t seen them in a while, because of that, I didn’t even get a chance to say hello— Ah, apologies.”

“No, it’s fine, Lord Andy. You don’t have to apologise,” Kevin said, waving both hands in the air. “Rather, after hearing that you went to such lengths for a good-for-nothing like me, I’m truly grateful.”

“What’s this? Timid as ever, I see,” Andy barked. “You’re an excellent businessman, so why not act like it?”

Then the elderly nobleman’s expression, which had been cheerful thus far, clouded over just a little.

“Nevertheless, I still feel sorry for your friend. At least, his daughter Helena seems to be doing well…… Have there been no clues even now?”

Kevin’s tone also grew heavy.

“……None at all. Helena believes he’s alive, but personally, I think he’s no longer……”

“He’d suddenly vanished, didn’t he?”

Out of the blue, Albert cut in. The two men were startled, but Albert continued with a somewhat knowing look.

“After the incident at the department store, I became curious, and tried doing some research into it myself. It seems there are various peculiarities about this case. For one, the store Helena’s father opened with Mr Kevin had been a success, but one day, he simply disappeared without warning. On the night he was thought to have disappeared, when he was having dinner at home, a friend testified that nothing had seemed particularly off about him.”

“Moreover, that was the last time I saw him. I never thought it would be the last conversation we’d have together……”

Kevin — the friend who’d testified — said so in a thin voice, the corners of his mouth twitching as if in self-mockery.

“Of course, at first, the police suspected that I had something to do with it. They even went to the trouble of thinking up a motive: that as a co-owner, I would stand to gain all the store’s profits if he were to disappear.”

Thinking back to that false accusation, Kevin’s shoulders drooped. Seeing that, Andy addressed him in a droll voice.

“Come now, you never know — one day he might just come home all of a sudden. I’ve told you before: there’s nothing we can do at present, and on top of that, worrying unnecessarily will only injure your health.”

“……You’re right. Besides, we’re supposed to be having fun right now: if I’m the only one being so grave, I’ll just be putting a damper on things.”

“Exactly, exactly. Well then, let’s get back to the game,” Andy urged, thumping him on the back.

Albert, who had been watching their exchange with a calm gaze, smiled gently.

“Indeed; let us focus on the competition first. By the way, it’s about time for us to get our blood pumping…… I’d like to advance deeper into enemy territory. What say you two?”

At his invitation, Kevin quickly shook his head.

“No no no! Frankly, since the start of the game, my heart’s felt like it’s about to explode! Anything more than this and it’ll stop altogether!”

But the elderly nobleman threw his head back in hearty laughter.

“You young people have so much energy, it’s making me jealous. Kevin-kun, you’ve got to watch and learn as well.”

“No…… When I think about what lies ahead, somehow my legs can��t stop shaking,” Kevin murmured weakly. His legs were indeed trembling pitifully, so much so it wouldn’t be surprising for them to give out any moment now.

Andy sighed, as if astonished.

“It can’t be helped then. Sorry, Albert-kun — it seems he can’t go on. I’d like to say that I’ll go with you in his stead, but…… for some reason, my legs have been hurting for a while now. Despite my high spirits, my years have bested me today,” he laughed wryly, his expression weak.

Albert nodded firmly.

“I understand. Well then, let’s part ways here. I wish you both the best of luck.”

“T-Take care……”

Watching Albert’s brave figure as he walked gallantly into the depths of the forest, Kevin felt ashamed at his own cowardice once again.

Scoreboard

🔹 Blue team: Albert, Jack, Fred, William, Kevin, Andy

🔺 Red team: Moran, Bond, Louis, Helena

Footnotes:

[1] Andy’s title is not formally given in the story, but judging from the amount of land he owns, I think it’s safe to say that he’s a member of the peerage like Albert, and hence should be addressed as “Lord Andy”. (Wikipedia)

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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Artistic Instinct Chapter 7

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 7,150 (being succinct is for wimps)

Warnings: Language, SMUT - this is your warning, no under 18s please.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

What the artist owes the world is his work, not a model for living.

Harry Crews

Chapter 7

Waking up comes to you slowly and languidly,as if the day was kind enough to filter softly into your eyes through a vaseline focussed lens, not unlike the ones shone onto Ingrid Bergman’s face and projected through Marcus’ iPad last night. Unlike your usual routine of falling out of bed and drifting with eyes still shut tight, in the direction of the kettle to make that all important cup of tea as your alarm sounds, you have instead woken as the first light of day paints the room in soft Degas pastels. Your sleep is normally quite fitful and filled with dreams that you wish didn’t cycle through your head for the rest of the day - but today feels different. Maybe it’s because your pillow is breathing.

Hang on, your pillow is breathing.

Shit, you fell asleep on Marcus.

How fucking professional, you absolute numpty!

Somehow during the night it was no longer just a case of you leaning into his shoulder but rather that your limbs had become confusingly entangled. From what you can work out, you must have both slid down the length of the sofa as whilst your head is still nestled on his shoulder, your forehead has now edged closer to the constellation of freckles on his neck. The steady percussion of his heart cradled within the gentle rise and fall of his chest is directly pressed against yours. Not crowding you despite the precariously narrow ledge you’re both huddled on, just fitting together like the most exquisitely cut puzzle.

For fuck’s sake, woman, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

You have one of the brightest minds in art history and are renowned for solving criminal activity but right now, you have zero idea as to how you will disentangle your limbs without both you and your boss showing willing.

But do you really want to?

There’s also a part of you that just wishes you could stay here- warm, safe and snuggled deeply in his chest. Jasper had always been so bony- all sharp edges and lean whereas Marcus offers a softer and more solid warmth as his body curls languidly around yours. His sleepy strokes and unconscious squeezes send little tingles throughout your body and whilst you’re utterly certain that nothing has happened other than the sheer exhaustion of two adults completely wiping out, you don’t feel ready to shatter the illusion of there being something more.

With the freest limb that’s slung over Marcus’ back, you try to wriggle some feeling into your fingers- psyching your body up to move. In an exchange of roles from the previous day, you stroke his cheek, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear before murmuring gently in his ear,

“Hey.”

Thick eyelashes start twitching before you notice an eye opening, darting around the room before coming in to focus upon your face, “Hey,” a shy grin slowly grows on his face, “I guess I didn’t get to put the comforter on you last night.”

“What?” In utter confusion, you push the back of your head into the cushion of the sofa so that you can angle your head to look more into Marcus’ face.

“I heard your breathing getting heavier last night n’ I thought of how you covered me the night before. Kept thinking I’d manage to do the same for you but you were so soft and warm, that I must’ve drifted off soon after,” his chuckling morning voice still painted with a sleepy rasp.

Giggling and grinning broadly at Marcus’ almost sweet gesture, you gently tease, “Well look, the quilt you nearly put on me, stayed on all night! Didn’t kick it off once.”

“Listen, thanks for not making this as awkward as it should be. No, no, no, I mean it,” Marcus emphasizes emphatically, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes implore you to believe him, “Not sure there are many people, who can wake up next to their new boss after less than 48 hours together and still crack jokes at their expense.”

Finally, working out a way to partially wriggle yourself free, you manage to push yourself into an almost seated position. A small groan and a flush runs through Marcus’ cheeks. And just before he flings his arm across his face to try to obscure his expression, you catch a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

In a low, gentle voice, you try to comfort him, “Come on, you have nothing to be embarrassed about- it’s a normal reaction. I’m going to shuffle across you, if that’s ok? I think it’s the only way we can get out of this tangle without both of us ending up on our arses on the floor.”

You take the small nod from Marcus as confirmation for the manoeuvre and start to crawl over him. Aiming to lift your hips up and away from the source of his embarrassment as possible, you end up overbalancing and tumbling to the floor in a heap of awkward limbs and laughter.

“Hey, you ok?” Marcus’ sleep creased face peers over the edge of the sofa down at you.

It’s now your turn for embarrassment to flush through your very being as you lie there staring at the ceiling rose and cornicing, “Ah I can’t ever pass up an opportunity to demonstrate just how clumsy I am,” you admit thickly through your eyelashes. Perhaps your limbs hadn’t been quite as ready as you’d hoped to carry your weight as you slowly shuffle yourself into a seated position on the deliciously deep pile rug that had cushioned your fall to the floor.

“Although, I may need to ensure that these rugs are kept around me at all times as at least there are no bruises this time. I swear my body is a map of mystery bruises,” you admit as you inspect the skin under your pyjama legs, pointing out inexplicable yellowing bruises.

“Well, Andy can look into that for you around the office,” Marcus says playing along with a wink, surreptitiously enjoying the little flashes you were revealing of your body, “Shame we’ve gotta leave today. I’m beat - but it’s been fun.”

“I’m not sure I’d have ever returned if it wasn’t for your insistence,” you admit, surprised at how the pain in your throat has already lessened to a mild dull ache.

“Guess we’d better get packed up and head off to the airport then.”

You observe Marcus’ bottom lip drop into a small pout, that delicious crease in the middle jutting out as if he was a petulant child rather than a man in his mid forties.

Oh how you’d love to suck...STOP IT! HE IS YOUR FUCKING BOSS, ANUSHKA MEERA LEAH PIERCE!

With an awkward wave and a quick turn of pace to hide the heat coursing through your face, you hightail it out of his room, stubbing your toe as you yank the door open far too viciously,

“SHIT ON IT!” You loudly curse, hearing the sofa creak as Marcus’ weight lifts from it. Not wanting to stick around for his latest sweet gesture when you don’t bloody deserve it, you painfully hop into the cool anonymity of the corridor to nurse your swollen toe.

Fucking smooth, Nush. REALLY fucking smooth.

✪✪✪✪✪

SLAM!

Marcus stands there, still slightly bleary eyed and dazed after experiencing some of the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever felt. How do you go from being genuinely sweet over feeling the morning glory of someone you barely know poking you in the belly to virtually running from the room and hurting yourself in the process to supposedly go pack your suitcase? Your words and actions seem so divergent- in total opposition to one another. Almost as if your brain and being are constantly at war with each other.

In one breath, you’ll tease him mercilessly, amaze him with the depth of your knowledge and the next you’ll shut off completely as if sharing even the time of day, would destroy you. You jump away from him as if it wasn’t the coffee that burns you but his touch and then, you lean into him, snoring sweetly with your face buried into his chest. He wants to shake you and scream WHAT DO YOU WANT in the same way that Ryan Gosling does in The Notebook, but life isn’t a romantic film. Something he’s never truly accepted.

Scrunching his eyes and scratching his head, rubbing the deep crevices that littered his brow, Marcus wonders what his next move will be. Should he run after you to check your foot? Wrap you in his arms and tell you that it will all be ok? Risk you running further from him? Unsure of whether your door would even open to him, Marcus sighs deeply before taking a few steps away from the sofa and tumbling face forward towards his as yet unslept upon bed.

Get it together, Pike.

How much of your constant pestering pushed Teresa away? It’s not a cute quirk, it’s fucking needy - and you need to stop before everyone runs from you.

Burying his face into the comforter, Marcus releases a deeply frustrated growl into its thick squishy noise-absorbing softness before using the springs of the bed to flip himself onto his back. Feeling his pulse throbbing a nervous beat in his neck, he shuts his eyes. All he can see is you. He can smell the tiniest imprints of your perfume and shampoo upon his t-shirt.

You’re fucking feral, Pike.

Feeling the blood rush to his groin as images of your face, bra strap and legs dance through his head, Marcus slides a hand under the waistband of his joggers to give himself a soothing stroke. He enjoys playing with himself as much as the next man- rubbing, stroking, cupping- but right now, all he can imagine is your hand being wrapped around it. Your hand gripping his cock - your skin so fucking soft - building up a rhythmic pleasure as you stare deep into his eyes.

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick arch of his hips, Marcus pulls down his pants in one smooth motion to allow himself full access to his dick. The immense pressure building and tightening as he works the shaft developing a pleasing rhythm whilst he is thinking of you. Filling in the gaps of the parts he hasn’t yet seen of you. How when you’d drifted off last night, he’d patted your hip and realised after feeling no ridge from where the elastic should have been that you had no panties on under your pyjama bottoms. The thought of your pillowy soft, warm, wet flesh so close to his fingers had made him grimace and groan last night when he couldn’t act upon it.

Now by himself, he gives into his basest wishes. Imagining licking, biting and stroking down your body, sucking on your nipples before lifting your hips to lower you onto his dick, sinking deeper and deeper inside you, feeling your warmth and wetness encase around him. Scraping his nails lightly across his balls, up the shaft and across the tip, he throws his head back as he thrusts harder into his fist. The first wave crashes over him pumping jet after jet of cum over his belly as his back arches up away from the soft mattress, his mouth crying out your name.

Dazed. Spent. Marcus lies there for a while, his hands and belly sticky from his release. Allowing the tiredness to wash back through him, his eyes close again- torturing his brain with images of you lying back with him. Being able to stroke your hair and press kisses into your sweetly almond scented skin. Hugging you tightly to him.

Never letting go.

Oh, you are utterly fucked, Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

Lying upon your tummy, head resting on your arms, you rest upon your bed thinking over the events of the past two days. Burning yourself, burning others, coming back to France, panic attacks, confessions and oh, finding a piece of well faked art- nothing too taxing. The exhaustion is so exquisite as it courses through your veins. There is one thing you’ve tried to exclude from your list- the Voldemort of kindness- he who shall not be named.

Marcus Fucking Pike

When you’d seen his bank card, you’d noticed the F sitting between the M for Marcus and his surname of Pike. It had momentarily tickled you to think of what the F could stand for. You totally know that with his track record for openness, he’d have told you in a heartbeat but it was more fun to wonder. For now, it will stand for Fucking as from what he’d demonstrated of himself he can be really Fucking nice, a Fucking tease about your totally non-existent snoring and Fucking hot.

Stop it, Nush.

You’ve been there, seen that, done it and got the fucking t-shirt. You do not want to go down that road again.

Rolling yourself off the bed, landing with a little more grace than you had off the sofa previously, you set to grabbing everything- throwing it all into your rucksack haphazardly. You’d underpacked, not wanting to cart a wheelie suitcase with you, leaving you with fewer clothes than you actually needed for this trip. You don’t have a clean outfit for the office today. Shit. The dress, although pretty smart for work, wouldn’t be terribly comfy on the flight back and there are some small splatters decorating it from where your coffee shot out of your mouth from laughing hard. You’ll have to head home before travelling into the office today, meaning a later night to catch up with the work you’d not complete earlier. Cursing your inability to pack well and organise your life, you throw on your dress and hope that your cardigan covers the worst of the stains.

Dragging the Tangle Teezer through the motions of pretending to tame your mop before securing it in a high ponytail, you head towards the bathroom that is situated on the adjoining wall between Marcus’ and your bedroom. The old fashioned tap handle with its smooth enamel touches spins easily between your fingers with none of the guttering, spluttering and sudden gushes of cloudy water that yours does at home as you wet your toothbrush, ready to brush your morning breath away. Buzzing fills your bathroom as you set about starting your day, your eyes dancing around the room looking at the cool tiles, the elaborate cistern on the toilet- all very fitting of a Victorian era bathroom. Not your style in the slightest, but it suited the styling of the hotel well. You hated when buildings were stripped and gutted of their original features, fitted with cookie cutter IKEA furniture. Chairs should be a little creaky, floors uneven and tables a little rickety- no perfect lines. A bit like that gorgeous missing bit of beard from Marcus’ face- perfection in imperfection.

Stop it, woman.

Spitting the foamy bubbles into the porcelain of the sink, you turn on the tap to rinse it away. Spinning the handle to the off position, you grab the cleanser that Claire, your eldest brother’s wife, had convinced you to start using and to be honest, it certainly helped the hormonal breakouts when it was that time of the month.

Tearing the cotton pad packet open, you grab two of them, squeezing a blob between them, then squishing them together so that it makes a cleanser pad sandwich. It reminds you of those potions you used to make as a child out in the garden mixing any berries, leaves and soil, or in the bath where you used all your dad’s shaving foam and your mum’s stupidly expensive creams, oils and lotions, mixing wild concoctions that would stop your brothers from coming into your bedroom or your mum rolling her eyes at your grades.

Rubbing the cool ointment in soothing circles over your skin, a strange sound seems to come through the wall. From Marcus’ side. It’s muffled but did it sound like your name, or were you imagining it? Confusion creases your forehead- why wouldn’t he just call or text if he needed you, unless he’s hurt? Deciding that the only way to put your mind at rest is to ring and make sure that he’s ok, you scroll through the names on your phone until you hit Sir Agent Marcus Pike. Hitting facetime, you gaze around the room as you wait for him to pick up. A lopsided smile on a slightly flushed face arrives on your phone, “Hey! You ok?”

“Yeah, I was just ringing to check if you were- I thought I heard you say my name when I was in the bathroom,” you gently question, noticing Marcus’ face twitch awkwardly as his eyes widen, “I was just worried that you might be bleeding out in there. Can’t really have that happen twice or people will start to think it was me that did it!”

Covering his mouth, scratching his scruff with his fingers, Marcus tries to think quickly, “Urm, I was… just trying to um get packed up and I stubbed my toe. You probably heard a pained grunt- sorry,” Marcus shakes his head, flaming cheeks giving away his lie.

“Oh we’re a matching pair, now!” you giggle watching Marcus’ uncomfortable twitching and the way he keeps running his hand through his hair, not entirely convinced by his story but glad it isn’t anything more serious.

“Anyway,” you announce wanting to move the conversation along, “I’ve booked us a taxi to the airport- you’ve got about twenty minutes until it arrives.”

A genuine smile creeps across his face- his eyes creasing into half crescents, “Thanks Nush. Hadn’t actually considered how we’d get there. I promise I am capable of running this team.”

“No worries, Marcus. See you down in reception?” that delicious smile and a slight nod greets your question before a quick goodbye on both sides.

He bloody hadn’t stubbed his toe but what the fuck had he been doing? Eyes widening as a realisation crosses your mind.

He hadn’t, had he?

Giggling away to yourself at the very thought, you finish grabbing your things before flicking the switch on the kettle and opening those beautiful French doors so their gauzy curtains float like ribbons in the slight breeze. One more coffee on that glorious balcony before you head back to London. So that’s two major developments you have gained in regards to work- one faked picture and that Marcus Pike is a shit liar.

✪✪✪✪✪

The journey back to the UK had been pretty uneventful other than Marcus trying to take your bag from you whenever possible. A sweet gesture but entirely unnecessary when it is literally a rucksack with five light items inside and you are more than capable of carrying it unless he was secretly worried that you’d injure someone else by swinging around too quickly or something. In the end, it was just easier for him to hold it rather than bickering like an old married couple in the middle of Stansted airport.

“Just gimme it, Nush. You can concentrate on working out where on Earth I’ve parked my car- this is the info I’ve got from the email ticket,” Marcus pointedly says, passing you his phone screen.

“You don’t have to give me a lift. I have to go home first as I didn’t pack enough clothes to cover me for today too,” you own up, “You get yourself to work and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. I promise I’ll work late tonight to make up for it.”

Marcus shakes his head, “You hardly strike me as someone who does half a job. You’re in Blackheath too, aren’t you? To be honest, I could do with grabbing a few bits from home before going back into town, so it won’t be going out of my way.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary- I know that I’m not the easiest person to be around and you’ve had to pretty much live with me for the past twenty-four hours,” you check noticing Marcus’ wince when you mention your difficult personality, “Ooof that bad huh?”

“You should stop talking about yourself in that way, Nush,” he gently soothes, lifting your chin with his thumb so that he can pick your eyes up from where they have fallen to the floor, “From what I’ve learnt about you in the past couple of days, you are an incredibly intelligent, occasionally clumsy but warm human. It has been a pleasure to have this opportunity to get to know you better and get to see the level of your skills so early on.”

Shifting uncomfortably in your coffee stained clothes, a smile crossing his face as he adds, “Can’t take a compliment can you? Ah well, that’ll have to be in your performance management plan- something for you to work on.”

“Ah hah! I’ve worked it out- your car is in the third bay, second row in Green Zone,” you triumphantly cackle.

“Lead the way, Nush. Let’s head home.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Roughly forty-five minutes later, you are kicking the base plate of your door to get the damp to release its powerful grip. Realistically, you had no need for a lock as the fluid retention of the wood would stop the most committed burglar in their tracks and unless you angled the kick just right, ah that’s it- home. You lean over the edge of the walkway to wave at Marcus, who is waiting below for a signal that you were in. He flashes his lights in acknowledgement of your gesture before smoothly reversing from where he has pulled in, watching his car disappearing from your estate, there is a tiny ache but you try to push it away as realistically, it is utterly ridiculous. You’re going to be seeing him in an hour for a lift into work.

After a scorching shower, a squirt of perfume and donning a pretty wrap dress with brightly coloured tights and your trusty cherry red Docs, you’re ready. Lying upon the sofa with your head upon a cushion, your knees bent and feet up on the arm rest, you flick through the various emails and messages that have slowly trickled in over the course of the morning. A sharp rap at the door, shakes you out of work mode.

“Hang on,” you yell through the door giving it the special shake and wiggle before muttering a prayer to the door gods to open first time, “Sorry, it’s the damn damp!”

A very smart, besuited, booted and bespectacled Marcus has a look of total alarm, “I’d say to get that checked but I’m guessing you already have?”

“Oh multiple times of pestering my landlord- apparently it’s on a list. Has been for at least three years,” you answer irritatedly, “Anyway, it’s my best security feature- no one can get in or out.”

“I didn’t realise you wore glasses. They look good on you,” you admire the black frames enjoying the flush being brought to Marcus’ cheeks before teasingly adding, “Ohhh, now who can’t take a compliment!”

“Get down your ass down those stairs, Ms Pierce, I’m pulling rank,” Marcus winks, lopsidedly grinning at you, “We have to at least pretend to do some work today.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus opens the door to the office for you- ever grateful to his wonderful manners, you slide into the office first and inwardly groan at the pile of files that have seemingly made themselves at home on your desk.

“Oh there’s my girl!” Andy’s arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, encasing you in a bone crushing hug, “Missed your face yesterday but I’m guessing you’ve had no time to think of us poor souls slaving away here whilst you’ve been gallivanting across the French countryside? How was the hotel room? Enjoy the view?”

Feeling a little ambushed by your friend’s questioning, you blink hard to steady your thoughts of the glorious view you awoke to this morning, “Yeah, it was lovely!”

And warm. And soft. Snored quite sweetly too.

“I know what a mardy bum you can be if you don’t have something nice to look at when you wake up,” Andy adds with a gentle shrug. He then turns his attention to Marcus, who’s shifting uncomfortably behind you, “Welcome back, Sir. Good to have you back here.”

“Thanks Andy. Um, I’m going to get set up,” Marcus says as he steps out around from behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. The warmth exists there for a moment before he’s already passed your desk and opened the glass door to his office.

“Coffee’s already waiting for you on your desk,” Marcus swings back to look utterly amazed at his PA, so Andy qualifies this, “I get reception to let me know when all of you arrive so that you can focus on the important things.”

“By the way, Nush and Marcus, before you get swallowed by case files,” Andy addresses you both as you lower yourself onto your chair, “we’re all heading to the Model Market on Friday to find some food and drink before drunkenly throwing some moves to my cousin who’ll be behind the decks. It’s only Wednesday and it already feels like a week!”

Dian sneaks over to your desk with a pastel de nata, “I heard these are your favourites so here’s something sweet to start off your day right.”

Your lip trembles and tears start to form as she passes you this sweet treat, “Thank you. They are my favourites. You are a truly lovely human, Dian.” You reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

“Oh I’m alright, I guess,” she winks one of her anthracite eyes at you, beaming widely, “I am just looking forward to finally spending some time with you in a context that doesn’t involve work. It’s so hard leaving a place that you’ve got your people who you vibe with and then you upend yourself to live somewhere new, where you’re totally on your own and have a job where you work odd hours!”

A sudden hit of guilt pumps through your veins, “I am so sorry, Dian, I hadn’t thought of that. I am so lucky to be from the same city that I now work in- I should have taken you to Borough. I will, and I promise I will show you all the little nooks you won’t have seen around there.”

“I was very jealous of Marcus stealing you away. Ridiculous when it was just for a day but I’d really like to get to know you. I feel like we could be friends,” Dian squeezes back, “Harper has family and friends here already, and I swear I overheard Kiri talking about a rugby team he has joined and meeting up with some mates from uni.”

“Yup- that’s probably true- plenty of Aussies and Kiwis in London but sadly not so many Canadians! Right, we’ll do this old school- come over to mine at seven on Friday, I’ll put some wine in the fridge and we can pretend we’re teenagers getting ready for a night on the town,” you quickly scrawl your address on a piece of paper, pushing it across the table towards Dian.

The smile on Dian’s face is the prettiest thing you've seen for a while. It seems to extend from her eyes to the very depths of her soul. Her reaching out to you makes you think of Marcus. Perhaps he could do with a friend here too- maybe another pizza and classic film night? Even though it had only been two nights, you feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him not being there with you this evening. Ridiculous. Get a grip before you risk curling up on a sofa with him again.

As Dian returns to her desk, you are faced with the mountain of paperwork from yesterday’s adventure. Shutting your eyes to try and focus your brain, you try to figure out where to start- the report? Logging the video feed? Filing the pictures? Writing up the notes from the meeting?

“Already napping on the job?”

You open one eye to be met with Marcus’ amused face.

With a slight shake of your head, you dismiss his teasing inquiry, “Trying to figure out where to start. I’m not sure quite how we managed to achieve so much in a day but it allllll nowwwww neeeeeeds to be loggggggged, bleurgh!”

“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Marcus says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“A very good place to start,” you sing along, channeling your best Julie Andrews, highly amused by Marcus’ reference, “Actually- as my brain’s not quite in work mode yet, I should ask you before I forget. I was thinking- do you fancy making the pizzas and classic film night a thing? While London is always full of people, it’s easy to feel quite lonely until you find your group of friends.”

A genuine smile slowly crawls across Marcus’ face as he drinks in your offer, “I mean, it's just a thought. Of course you don’t have to and I’m not sure that my old sofa is anywhere near as comfy as the one in Lyon…”

“I’d love to,” Marcus grins at the fluster in your voice, was he happy to spend more time with you? “Let’s get something in place…”

“Nush- sorry to interrupt, Marcus- I have a highly animated woman called Élodie on the phone asking for you. Can I put her through?” Andy asks, “Seems like she has the lab results back for the possible Soutine.”

Lifting the receiver for your phone whilst whispering to Marcus that you’d catch him later, you lean into the backrest and spin yourself comfortingly from side to side, « Coucou chérie, ça va? Vérifie si mon numéro de téléphone fonctionne? » Hi my love! How are you? Already checking if my telephone number works?

«Coucou mon chouchou! Bien sûr- tu ne peux pas me quitter encore! Il a été complètement falsifié. Sur la toile, sous la peinture, se trouve une autre image qui me rappelle quelque chose qui a été peint par un ado troublé! » Hey my love! Of course- you can’t leave me again! It was completely faked. On the canvas under the paint, another image was found that reminds me of something a troubled teenager would paint! The words tumbling hurriedly from Élodie’s mouth into her phone.

You giggle remembering the angst-ridden art and poetry you’d created as a mopey teenager and are filled with amusement that someone might improve them by putting faked masterpieces on top.

« D’accord! Donc la radiologie l’a prouvé - mais qu’en est il des échantillons de peinture? Une joie avec ceux-ci? » Ok! So the X-ray proved it but what about the paint samples? Any joy there? Now spinning on your chair as far the cord would allow you, your mind wonders how on Earth it could ever have ever been thought to be real.

« Tous les échantillons montrent des peintures modernes telles que la phtalocyanine bleue et verte. Les résultats de la datation au carbone sont attendus plus tard dans la soirée, mais j'avais hâte de t’appeler! Je t’enverrai les résultats par e-mail dès qu'ils apparaissent» All of the samples show modern paints such as phthalocyanine blue and green. The carbon dating results are due later this evening but I couldn't wait to ring you. I’ll email you the results as soon as they appear. Élodie continues, « Comment s'est passé votre dernière nuit et le voyage de retour avec votre magnifique patron? » How did the last night and journey home go with that lovely boss of yours?

« Je raccroche le téléphone maintenant, femme ridicule, » I am hanging up the phone now, you ridiculous woman. You reproach your friend playfully.

Hanging up, after sending hugs and kisses to Jacques too, you see that your computer has now decided that no more updates need to be made. Perhaps it’s time to get started on that report…

When you read you begin with ay bee cee…

✪✪✪✪✪

The flurry of activity continues to hover around your desk and slowly your colleagues peter out in search of lives lived outside of the office space. In fact, you don’t notice the ageing of the day until Marcus goes to leave the office, “Hey, are you planning to sleep here tonight?”

“Had more sleep last night than I usually do so I am riding this high until I drop,” you snort without removing your eyes from your screen as you furiously type away, “You off home?”

“Gym first- gotta burn off the pancakes I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow,” Marcus says as he fiddles with the strap on his laptop bag.

“That’s not the way that food intake and exercise should work. Food is for nourishing your body and exercise is for making it strong. Don’t get sucked in by that bullshit, Marcus,” you wag your finger at your boss, still hammering the keyboard with your other hand, “You have nothing to worry about, the way you look.”

You finally look up to see Marcus shyly smile, rocking from heel to toe in his highly polished brogues, his eyes on the toe of his shoes. Drawing a deep breath, he looks back up at you, nodding towards the report on your screen, “D’ya think you’ll be able to present that to the team tomorrow?”

“Yeah, just had the results from the carbon dating come through so I should be ready to speak to everyone tomorrow morning at the briefing, if that works for you?” You answer just as tiredness starts to take a grip on your body.

“Perfect. Can I offer you a lift home or are you staying a bit longer?”

“Staying,” you confirm, glueing your eyes back to the screen.

“Well, goodnight Nush,” Marcus wishes you warmly, as he makes to walk away from your desk.

“G’night Marcus. Try to sleep in a bed tonight.”

A throaty chuckle fills the cool office air before disappearing as the door shuts behind him. Bathed in the blue light of your screen, you try to jog your memory of which point you were about to make in your report but sit there utterly stumped due to the distraction.

Marcus Fucking Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

“So what’s the big deal about this colour exactly?” Harper cuts directly to the chase, “Explain it like I’m five because as you are well aware, this is not my area of expertise.”

You always wonder how far back people need to know of a colour’s history to explain it well enough. Do you take it back to cave paintings or perhaps start in the Renaissance? Perhaps somewhere between the two?

“There was a blue that was known as the colour of the heavens. It’s called ultramarine and is created by crushing lapis lazuli. Now, lapis is only found in one country- Afghanistan, but it’s been used since antiquity to create this beautifully, insanely intense blue. The blue that you see in Tutankhamen’s mask, that’s lapis. Having been used by the Ancient Egyptian and Babylonian empires, lapis then fell out of favour as the Romans associated it with the woad used by Barbarian hordes.”

Tapping his pen on the table, Kiritopa nods in agreement,”Like Braveheart?”

“That’s a wee bit later in European history but a similar idea. Think more Boudicca- the Iceni tribes uprising against the marauding Romans,” Dian points out kindly before nodding encouragingly at you to continue.

“The use of ultramarine then slowly diffused through Europe thanks to the Crusades in the 13th and 14th century but even then, it was still an incredibly precious commodity and solely available to the richest of the rich. That’s why you only ever see it in pictures of the Virgin Mary, emperors, popes and other dignitaries. When a patron requested Ultramarine to be used, the contract would have to be super tight specifying exactly where it would be used and how much.”

“So over the years, scientists have attempted to replicate this paint to create a substance that’s more commercially available but when we try to make paints, we’re dealing with chemistry. When manufacturing paint, you’ve got to make sure that it’s a stable, preferably non-toxic product because well, we all know what happened to the Radium Girls.”

“It took until the first half of the twentieth century for the scientific community to create CuPc. I think it was 1927 when they first created a reaction between copper, cyanide and 0-dibromobenzene, finding that one of the byproducts was an intensely blue powder. This blue powder ended up being first manufactured in 1935 but it still wasn’t readily available until the sixties because Yves Klein tried in the fifties to create the blue used by Giotto and still didn’t manage to produce anything nearly as stable or non-toxic.”

“How does this all link up to this forgery in France?” Harper questions bluntly, clearly desperate for you to get to the point.

Blinking hard, you take a moment to steady yourself as Marcus’ eyes flit between you and the Australian agent.

“Kind of wishing that I’d asked you to explain it like I’m twenty five, might have reached the point by Christmas,” she mutters under her breath.

“Stop packing a sad, Harper. Nush has heaps of skills in this area,” Kiritopa shoots a glare in the Australian’s direction, “Keep going Nush.”

You go to open your mouth but Harper just can’t help herself, “There’s a skill in being succinct.”

“There’s also a skill in not being rude but you’re not managing that are you?” The look on Kiritopa’s face announcing that he is pretty much ready to kill.

“Whoa - guys…” Marcus chooses now to join in?

“Look,” you acquiesce- your heart racing in your throat, raising your hands to try and calm the situation, “Harper’s right, I’m blathering. I should have gotten to the point far sooner. The crux of the situation is that the paint found on the canvas in Grenoble dates from the sixties whereas the artist died in the forties.”

“All of the evidence points to it being a fake- carbon dating, x-rays- the lot. This was an easy find but I think we should be prepared for harder to spot ones,” after throwing paper copies of the lab results in the centre of the table for everyone to grab, you sit back in your chair. Your posture screams for everyone to leave you alone, burying your face in the agenda. Multiple sets of eyes look upon you but you refuse to meet them, feeling furiously obstinate and wholly uncommunicative in the moment.

As the meeting grinds to a close, you finally lift your eyes to find that Marcus’ regard has barely left you- only looking away when you catch him. Urgh, he’s going to be nice about this too. But it isn’t Marcus, who reaches out to you. It’s Kiritopa. Kiritopa, who wordlessly reaches his bear-like arm across the table and squeezes your hand before getting up and leaving the room. The gesture fills you with a grateful warmth and you decide to scarper from the meeting room before Marcus says something and makes you cry.

Time to put on my big girl knickers and get back to work.

✪✪✪✪✪

Friday passes in a blur of calls about a new possible forgery meaning that you can only pull silly faces at Dian from across the room. Kiritopa seems hugely excited by the prospect of a night out, chattering about how he’s invited some of the guys from his rugby team to meet up with him there later. Harper is her usual distant self, head down, beavering away- not really paying much attention to anyone or anything around her.

Where’s Marcus?

You throw a scrunched ball of paper at the PA’s head to get his attention, but entirely miss him, “Andy is Marcus not coming in today?”

Picking up the paper and without even looking up, he throws it back, hitting you square in the forehead, “Car trouble. Any issues, message him.”

Eventually, you hear his confident gait walk into the room. Looking up, you send him a smile which soon fades when you see what a mess he’s in. Hair sticking up all over the place from a stressed hand constantly running through it, a slight gleam of sweat across his skin and an oily mark on one cheek, shirt untucked, jacket draped over one arm, tie askance and lowered due to the top two buttons of his shirt being undone. All of him, in fact, looks undone and defeated.

Without thinking, you jump up from your seat, walk over to him and hug him tightly. With this action the other agents look up and see the state their boss is in. Marcus, whilst initially surprised by your gesture, leans into the hug and lowly whispers, “Thanks. I needed that,” before giving you a tight squeeze, releasing you and slowly trudging towards his office.

“Shit start to a Friday, Sir,” Kiritopa offers, “I’ll get the first round in tonight- you look like you could do with a beer.”

“Fuck, yes, I need a beer but as your boss, that’s my job,” Marcus forcefully asserts, “You can get the second round in.”

You make to slink off back to your desk but Marcus catches your hand, rubbing the skin lightly with his thumb, “You ok?”

“Yeah- just wanted to check on you. You look a fucking state,” you declare through an amused grin.

Marcus chuckles at your observation. “Not the best start to a day,” he grimaces, “I miss anything major this morning?”

“Not apart from the boss arriving at midday looking like he pushed his car all the way here,” you gently tease, “You know we have something called public transport in London- you should try it some time!”

“Yeah, I’ll have Andy look into that for me,” Marcus nods in mock-contemplation, “Hey, um, are you coming out tonight? With everyone, I mean?”

“Uh huh,” you concede reluctantly, “I’m not really a fan of nights out with colleagues but I think we could all do with a glass of something and some good street food in our tummies. What time are you getting there?”

Marcus scrunches up his nose, “Around seven but you know this job- it might be then or some time in September!”

Giving you a wink as he buttons up his collar and straightens his tie, Marcus turns towards his office and you head back to your desk- both with a renewed wish to get finished up and out of the office tonight.

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eppysboys · 3 years

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John and Yoko: A Love Story

Inspired by @monkberries‘s brave dive into the wacky world of Give My Regards to Broad Street, I decided to give the tv movie John & Yoko: A Love Story a full viewing. No skipping through. I am determined to watch every single second of this film. Oh, and I’m going take a drink every time there’s a lie (please drink responsibly). Let’s go!!

Oh my god, i hear those first few chords of Imagine and my flight or fight mode is activated. I also want to point out that the director of this movie is best known for horror films.

The actual first shot of this movie is KKK members protesting the beatles. We see John + Beatles on stage performing and then cut to New York where Yoko is being interviewed by the press after performing her famous ‘Cut’ piece. I can already tell that this actress is probably the only one who isn’t going to be cartoonish in her portrayal of a real life person. Good for her. The guy playing Paul is like a robot. Anyway, all the guys say they are sick of touring and Brian is very offended. Cut to november 9th and john goes to a gallery and climbs the famous ladder to see the famous ‘YES’. The future lovebirds meet and are amused by each other until John takes a bite of an apple on display which Yoko is not impressed by. “This is not a game, you know!” she tells him. Yoko doesn’t know who John Lennon is. I take a long sip of my grasshopper, and let the games begin.

Yoko reads John’s book and sends him her book, he is delighted by it and tells Brian she’s truly an original mind. Brian says she certainly has a sense of humour. That’s not exactly what Brian was saying about Yoko, and not how John and Brian were talking about her according to a few sources, so I count that as a drinking opportunity. John sees Yoko on TV promoting the Bottoms film while reading her book. Cynthia is knitting passive aggressively because she’s a mumsy mum and boring and doesn’t understand art. (Nevermind this was years after many other artists including Andy Warhol had already done this sort of thing with film and photography. But apparently this was so hip and exciting, John can’t contain his enthusiasm.)

Yoko calls John and asks him if he’d like to contribute manuscripts for the John Cage project. He agrees. We don’t see her asking Paul first. Not necessarily a lie, but i’m still drinking. Yoko interrupts a studio session because there are only lyrics on the page, not music scores. Also, I know this is a tv movie but the actors didn’t even grow their own mustaches :/ It looks horrible, like bits of felt glued onto their faces. Another drink. Mal is wearing a ‘Stamp Out The Beatles’ sweatshirt, which was a nice touch. I think John and Yoko are flirting but honestly I can’t really tell. Yoko catches Mal setting up a bed for John and her (at John’s request), and is disgusted and tries to leave. John wants to know when he can see her again, she tells him she has a show coming up, but needs a sponsor. She doesn’t want him to sponsor if he isn’t really interested in the art. But he is! He insists!

We cut straight to John and Cyn in the car, a news report shows that Brian has just been discovered dead. Suddenly John has long hair and he is at Yoko’s doorstep. “How do you know where I live?” she asks, clearly baffled by someone she doesn’t know well showing up at her home. Another drink. They flirt and chat. John talks about his working class upbringing. Another drink. They talk like it’s a first date, which I suppose it is.

We cut to India. Is this it, fellas? Are we going to learn what happened in India? Oh boy! John spends all his time reading Yoko’s letters to him while Cynthia watches on with a frown. Yoko comes home from Paris and finds stacks and stacks of letters from John. John comes back home, calls Yoko and tells her he wants to see her. I check how long this movie goes for. I’m only 30 minutes in and somehow it feels a lot longer.

It’s all very romantic, and they kiss and make love at sunrise. John tells her it’s going to be the two of them from now on though Yoko reminds him they have other people in their lives to think about. Cut to John telling Cynthia he’s with Yoko now (in a much braver fashion than he had actually in real life. A drinky for me.) The Beatles aren’t very impressed by this but John and Yoko are living in bliss as they spend all their time together. The Two Virgins shoot happens. John and Yoko do the acorn thing. Idk I’m kind of zoning out a bit. A passionate argument between Yoko and a priest about what art is. Cut to Robert Fraser gallery where stuffy white people critique the art and make racist remarks. John and Yoko discuss racism and the N word is used in the context of Liverpudlians to England. Revolution 9 isn’t accepted by the rest of the band and George Martin, so John is angry. Linda is introduced and you know she’s a photographer because she’s wearing a beret. I bet you anything her introducing herself will be the last time she speaks for the rest of the movie. (I was right.) The drug bust happens and oh my god there’s still so much of this movie to go. Another drink just because. Yoko goes to the hospital and John stays by her side.

George and Ringo are annoyed by Yoko’s presence in the studio, fake moustaches askew. Paul has a horrific beard and pisses off George while John and Yoko waltz in the background. Business talks. Oh shit, was I supposed to be keeping up with how much I’ve drunk? Oops. Anyway. John tells Paul he’s already signed with Allen Klein and Ringo and George are on his side. John and Yoko perform together and are not happy with the reception they get for their art. They see coverage of the war on tv and discuss it. Yoko tells John that he’s famous, and essentially he should be using his voice for important matters, not just ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’. They decide to collaborate and spread the word of peace to the world. By the way, there has been absolutely no discussion of drugs. Another drink. John takes Yoko to meet Mimi. I despair at the timestamp.

Mimi mentions that she read that Paul got married. She fondly recalls how rebellious John always was, and how he always did the unpopular thing. She then looks John up and down and says, “You’re not thinking of getting married, are you??” And John gets the idea to marry Yoko, I guess. Bed in for peace. I know I’m supposed to be charmed but I’m not. I’m not even halfway through this film??????? How???? Car crash, business stuff, Allen Klein and Lee Eastman stuff. Apparently THIS is the point where John and Yoko start using drugs. in the next scene they decide to quit and cleanse their bodies by going cold turkey.

John tells the guys he wants a divorce. I genuinely feel nothing. Neither does John, who is calm cool and collected. Another drink. Oh I think i’m feeling it now mr krabs. John is angry at Paul after he releases the album and announces the beatles are broken up. Japan trip to meet Yoko’s parents. I’m so bored, friends, I’m suffering. I don’t know why I’m just feeling absolutely nothing. Tony Cox stuff happens and John is angry and Yoko is sad and they decide to take Kyoko. Next scene the police come knocking on their door. Ok I’m getting the sense that condensing over a decade long story into one movie doesn’t exactly allow for much depth. No matter how long it feels. I’m only just over at the halfway mark. John is telling his ‘choosing between two parents’ story and my eyes glaze over because I think I might have read and heard about this more times than the Yesterday story.

New York era has started and I’m feeling wooozzyyy. May Pang!!! Aahh!! “When are you people going to realise that John and Yoko is one word!!” John shouts at Allen. Oh my god they included John’s giant denim cap. Very dramatic shot as Yoko laments to John about how she is perceived by England.

Stuff happens. John wears his overalls. FBI are spying on them. Nixon stuff. They portray John at the madison square garden concert nowhere near as chaotic as he was. John is mad at the critics. I’m so sleepy. John is upset and drinking more and more and just watches television. Yoko records her own music and John gets angry and drunk when Nixon wins. John preaches and hates that no one is really listening to him. He sleeps with another woman very very loudly. John and Yoko fight about it. i put m&ms in my drink and watch how the colours blend together.

They go to the woods and it looks like John is about to tell Yoko that he’s a vampire.

But no, Yoko just tells him that he needs to go away for a while. Lost Weekend commences with John being the one to call and check up on Yoko constantly. May has not said a word. John hates everything and just wants to be back home with Yoko. Drunkenness and anger ensues. The guy that plays Elton John is so weirdly not like Elton at all but he’s wearing wacky glasses so it’s kind of funny. John refers to Walls and Bridges as ‘pretty good’. I consider it slander. John begs Yoko to let him back. Interestingly Yoko keeps referring to ‘the world’ and worrying about what ‘the world’ thinks of them, and that’s why they can’t be together. The Elton John concert happens and it’s spun the way they always tell it. Mayve it would be funny if I wans’t so damn bored. I guess that’s the lost weekend over. i drank a bit more for that bit btw.

Julian shows up and it’s happy families. he informs Dad punk music is a thing and John teaches him the guitar. drinkkk. Yoko watches on and smiles but wonders about her daughter. I don’t know, more stuff happens. Yoko records music. John is excited about the future. Poetic musings by Yoko about their lives together. They head for home. John is killed. In My Life plays as stills from the movie flash on screen and then the credits roll.

I’m……...not feeling very well. I should have just read a wikipedia page or something it’s one in the morning I could have been sleeping holy shit what have i done??

#i.......................really regret that #oh god maybe (bumble bee..barry bee benson) this will be amusing in the morning #apologies for spelling errors i. am a bit fuzzy #ok goodnight friends

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terresdebrumestories · 3 years

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Available for consultation

FANDOM: The Old Guard (2020) SERIES: - RATING: General audiences WORDCOUNT: 4 776 words PAIRING(S): None CHARACTER(S): Nile Freeman (POV), Yusuf Al Kaysani, Andromache the Scythian, Niccolo di Genova (mentioned), Sébastien Le Livre (mentioned). GENRE: Mutual care, Nile Freeman character introspection. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I can think of :) SUMMARY: Nile misses her mother but doesn't know how to talk about it or with who. fortunately, Bâtard the emotional support tortoise is here to help. NOTE(S): This was originally written for Nile Week 2020 but never put online because of reasons, so now here it is, longer and better written than it was :D Hugest thanks to @avaniesque for the most excellent beta work :D [ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3.]

Nile gasps when something soft bumps against her foot, hurriedly wiping at her cheeks as she turns towards the door. It looks empty at first, the cobwebs they didn’t bother dealing with earlier in the day gently swaying in the air. There’s some shuffling along the dusty floor, a light click of nails on stone, and then a small oblong head appears near the bottom. This is swiftly followed by short scaly legs and a black and brown shell wrapped in a crocheted lab coat. Nile tenses, unprepared for any sort of human company at the moment, but relaxes when it becomes apparent Booker has not elected to follow his pet around.

Said pet has now fully entered the living-room and is beelining for a strawberry resting against her right pinky toe. It looks good enough to eat, as does the rest of what Booker feeds it, which Nile still doesn’t really understand but who is she to tell Booker how to care for his pet? Bâtard, of course, is unconcerned by her surprise and eventually gets to chomping on the strawberry.

Nile’s eyes are dry by now, the tight press of sadness around her heart still present but past its peak, at least for now. It still takes her a couple of seconds to realize the small square of bright white on the side of Bâtard’s outfit is a piece of paper. She picks it up to find a few words from a hand that hasn’t yet lost the impeccable penmanship of its first life. Apparently it’s hard to let go of habits people beat into you with a stick. The note reads : “He’ll keep your secret as long as you keep paying. First one on me.” It makes Nile smile.

(Andy, Nicky and Joe are all just as capable of impeccable calligraphy, but when free not to pay attention to it they tend to revert to script letters. Booker is the only one who insists on torturing them all with permanent cursive written with fountain pens on special paper.)

She doesn’t know Booker all that well, yet. Seven years ago, he was the quiet grumpy member of the group who didn’t seem to care much whether Nile stayed or left. Then he was the one who made a pretty compelling case against Nile seeing her family again—revealing himself to have some unresolved issues in the process—and then he was the one whose issues exploded all over the rest of the group. Now he’s mostly the one who was brought back way too soon, who knows it, and tries to make himself as scarce as possible because of it.

Mostly, it means that while Nile is the one who’s exchanged the most words with him so far, it’s also pretty much been limited to the topic of...well. His tortoise. All in all, much less informative about the man compared to just watching him settle said tortoise up in every safehouse they use, no matter how temporary. (Nile would help, but she’s not entirely sure how the others would take it. It seems prudent not to.) Or looking at the cozies the tortoise parades around on a regular basis...or, as the case may be, discovering he’s taken the time to bedeck his precious reptile in a new outfit for the sole purpose of leaving it (uncharacteristically) unsupervised in Nile’s company just so she has someone to talk to.

“You’re not who I want to talk to either,” she says, because she’s under no illusion that her solitude today has been accidental. “I mean, I know they’re trying I just—”

Nile sighs, wiping at her face in a vain attempt to clear her head, but the gesture only brings fresh moisture to her eyes as she tries to swallow down her frustration. It feels almost silly, in the grand scheme of things, to be this upset over this, but, well... Hearts do what they want, and there’s nothing Nile can do about that, so eventually she looks down at Bâtard’s scaly little head and tells the tortoise:

“It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow. She’s turning sixty-five and I—”

Nile claps a hand on her mouth to stifle the sob wrenching itself out of her, but it feels piercing and loud in the quiet evening air nonetheless. She breathes around it for a bit, unwilling to attract company just yet, and reaches down to rub Bâtard’s head with her forefinger.

“I want to be with her,” she eventually confesses to the tortoise. “I want to be there and hug her, I—I miss my mom.”

Nile knows she can call. They’ve got burner phones, Copley’s skills to keep them hidden, and an uneasy truce with Quynh ensuring the biggest threat they’ve faced so far isn’t much of one for now. Three years ago she wouldn’t even have had that: her mother and brother both convinced she was dead and buried somewhere in the mountains of Afghanistan. She believes with all of her heart that her mother and brother would never blame her for living when they can’t.

Her mother is starting the second half of her sixties, and she’s not there to see it. Her mother, who’s growing older and greying a little at the temples. Her mother, who deserves better than never knowing when they’ll see each other again, with little-to-no news in between visits. Her mother, who was there for her in every way she could and every way that counted, and for whom Nile wants to be there but can’t. Her mother, who will not be there forever.

(Sometimes, the thought hits Nile out of nowhere, and it takes an impossible effort not to drop everything right then and there to jump in the first flight to Chicago.)

“It’s just—” Nile pauses, trying to pick her words so she can really make Bâtard understand, as impossible as that is, and continues : “They’re great. All of them. They’re—even Booker’s not so bad. I mean, I’m kind of stuck in the middle of the family feud so that’s not the best feeling, but... They’ve gone above and beyond to help me feel welcome, they’ve taught me so many amazing things…. They’re just...not my mom.”

Bâtard, done with his strawberry, lifts his head to look at her, and Nile swears he even leans into her scratching, just a little. It’s a pleasant surprise and she finds herself smiling, not very bright but present nonetheless. It soothes something in her, too, not to be alone right now even though she’s not ready for human company. Both her mother and Jordan have allergies so they’ve never had pets before, and Nile never really longed for one either. Right now, though, she thinks she understands a little better what endears them to people.

“I’m...scared,” she admits, keeping her voice quiet like it’s going to make a difference. “I know I’m going to lose her one day, that’s inevitable, but I don’t want to find out about it months later because my brother couldn’t reach me...I don’t want to find out about his death from nephews and nieces who’ll barely know who I am, if they know I exist at all.” Nile sighs again, sobs crowding in her throat and tightening her voice as she admits: “I wish I hadn’t listened to Booker.”

That last admission is what breaks the dam, and all of a sudden Nile is sobbing again, and she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. There’s misery here, and anger too, maybe even more than there was at the beginning. It was...easier, in a way, to pretend to be dead. She had to mourn, of course, and that tore at her and still does sometimes, but it was a clean cut. It was simple.

Now her mother knows she’s alive and her brother knows and it’s a relief for all of them, but it also means Nile has to be the one consciously deciding not to call home until she’s in a safe enough place to do so, not to text until she can do it from a sufficiently untraceable phone. The temptation there is a hundred times harder to resist because it would be so easy not to.

“If it makes you feel better,” Joe’s voice says from the threshold, “I think we can all sympathize with that sentiment.”

He’s being quiet and careful—it’s the middle of the night after all—but Nile is still startled, and she pretends to glare at him until he tilts his head in quiet enquiry. In response she sighs, wipes at her wet cheeks again, and waves him over. He smiles, something almost like relief in it, and steps lightly into the living room.

“Mind the doctor,” Nile tells him, gesturing at the remains of the strawberry, as he lowers himself on the ground next to her.

“The doct—you mean Bâtard?”

“Yeah he’s—”

In that instant, Nile realizes she has no idea where Bâtard went. He was chilling by her feet, seemingly content to go to sleep soon, and now he’s nowhere to be seen. The realization is enough to send Nile’s heart racing, horrified at the thought of being the one under whose watch Bâtard meets an unfortunate end.

Sure, it isn’t her pet and she and Booker aren’t really close—not like she’s becoming with the others, at any rate—but 1) Bâtard doesn’t deserve to die and 2) it doesn’t take a genius to realize his demise would be absolutely disastrous for Booker’s mental health, and no one wants to see the consequences that could have on the rest of them. Joe must have gone through a similar realization, because as soon as Nile falls quiet he tenses and gets back up into a crouch.

“Please tell me we didn’t lose the tortoise,” he whispers, like he thinks Booker might be listening in on them.

“We didn’t lose the tortoise,” Nile replies because it’s barely been five minutes and Bâtard cannot possibly have gone far in that time frame.

“Good,” Joe says while Nile rummages through her pocket for her phone and turns the flashlight on, “because I don’t think any of us are prepared to deal with the fallout of—”

“We did not lose the tortoise,” Nile interrupts, her tone firm enough to pretend she’s not actually nervous about this. “Can you turn the light on? I’m getting nowhere with this.”

Joe does, and Nile spots Bâtard almost instantly, ambling in his unhurried stroll towards the fridge like he knows where the treats come from...maybe he does, Nile really doesn’t know enough about tortoises to tell. Either way, it’s a relief seeing him there, and she turns to let Joe know she’s found their target.

“Oh thank God,” Joe sighs, sagging with it. “I really don’t want to find out what Booker would be like if we lose him.”

“You know,” Nile remarks as she follows Bâtard’s mosey to the fridge, “I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time the lot of you had a talk about this.”

Joe winces, and Nile can sympathize with that if she’s really honest. She doesn’t feel the same about what happened, but then she doesn’t have a shared history with Booker the way the others do; it’s easier for her to let go faster. Still, Booker’s been back for nearly three months now, and Nile is getting tired of feeling like she needs to be walking on eggshells between the two parts of the group. Joe sighs.

“Which ‘this,’ do you think?”

“All of them,” Nile retorts, careful to keep her voice gentle. She’s not trying to force anyone into anything, after all. “Just...it’s been months, and you’re still avoiding each other. You all need to talk.”

Joe sighs again, running a hand over the nape of his neck. He looks like he might be ready to talk with someone, but the very thought of it makes Nile want to recoil. Another day, maybe. When she’s got more energy, and more space in her head for other people’s problems.

Not right now.

“Remember you’re on my strawberry,” Nile says, smiling to turn it half into a joke, “if you need a consultation you pay your own fee.”

“Alright,” Joe chuckles, good natured even in the middle of the night. “That’s fair.”

He sobers up soon after, growing quiet and serious to ask: “Is it working for you? Or would you like to tell me what’s going on? I’ll even listen for free, if you’re short on strawberries.”

Nile snorts. The truth is, she does feel better for having told him what was going on, even if her ‘consultation’ was accidentally cut short. She’s not sure how much of this she wants to share with the team just yet. There’s never an easy way to tell people who want to help you that they can’t because they’re simply...not who you want at that moment.

“Actually, I’m good right now,” she tells Joe. “Take you up on it another time?”

Joe visibly hesitates, something a little worried in his frown, so Nile gives a fond smile and leans up to squish him in a hug as much as she can manage.

“Thank you,” she tells him, relaxing when he returns the embrace just as tight and actually lifts her up against him. “I’m good, I promise. It’s not─you can probably guess most of it, honestly. I just...I feel kind of awkward about it, I guess.”

“Because we’re too close?” Joe guesses, and Nile nods.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to talk to someone uninvolved.”

“Well,” Joe says, something too wet in his throat to be only about Nile, “I’m glad you have that then. Just...just know I mean it.”

“I know,” Nile promises, chest warming from the care and the obvious concern. “Now go to sleep, old man.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Nile gives Joe a playful shove, snorting when he pretends to stumble, and watches him go with the stretch of a smile sinking into her cheeks. Slowly, the air around her grows still again, the vague sounds of a forest at night and a door creaking barely even noticeable.

How much sleeping is actually taking place on the other side of the safehouse, Nile doesn’t know. She learned very quickly that no one on this team is capable of normal sleep patterns. It’s quiet all the same, and after a few seconds of standing in place, she goes to the fridge, retrieves a peach quarter from Bâtard’s snack box and she plops the offering in front of him, turns the light off, and sits back down next to the tortoise.

“Alright,” she tells him, “maybe I wasn’t completely fair with your dad. I mean...he was wrong, but it’s not like he was trying to be cruel. And he did have a bit of a point.”

She still can’t quite stand the thought of losing her family. It’s unavoidable, she knows. One day, maybe, she’ll make her peace with it, but for now...no. She doesn’t want to think about that any more than she already has tonight.

“I know there’s a purpose,” Nile tells Bâtard. “I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it. And we’re getting better at it! I know I’m doing more good here than I used to as a soldier...but sometimes I wish there wasn't a purpose and I could just go home.”

Bâtard, either oblivious to or unconcerned by Nile’s predicament, keeps munching on his piece of peach, and Nile can’t help but smile down at him, reaching to rub at his head once more.

“You really are a good listener,” she tells him. “You’re still not my mom though. She’s the one I want to talk to.”

Bâtard looks up then, and straight at Nile with something that could almost pass for a purposefully flat expression...and, really, he’s not wrong. It’s nearing three am here which makes for...maybe ten or eleven in the evening in Chicago? And sure, Mom’s not so young anymore and could probably use the sleep...but today is her birthday, and Nile’s always tried to phone her on the day before, and she has a burner phone with her so, really, what’s stopping her?

Maybe the possibility of displeasing Andy, a bit. But, Nile thinks as she dials, they’re leaving tomorrow aren’t they? If she’s going to do it, at least she’s picking the least inconvenient time for it.

“N─yes?” Mom’s sleepy voice mumbles into the phone, better at the incognito game than she was when it all started two years ago. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Nile says, and smiles at her mother’s joyful, wordless exclamation. “Am I waking you up?”

“Nevermind that,” mom chides, “nevermind that! How are you? Where─well no, you can’t tell me where you are, but how are you?”

“Better now,” Nile says in a sigh, warmth and bittersweetness spreading in her chest as she leans back against the wall, finger still tracing circles on Bâtard’s head. “I mean. I miss you, but at least I get to hear you now.”

“Oh, I miss you too baby,” Mom says, tears audible in her voice, “but I’m so glad you called! Don’t tell your brother, but it’s definitely my favorite present this year!”

Nile smiles again, a little wobblier than she’d like, maybe, but not forced. This isn’t ideal and she wants more, but it’s better than not calling the way she’d planned to do. At her feet, in the dim silvery light of the moon, Bâtard looks just a little smug.

“Not a word,” Nile promises, knowing her mother is going to share the news herself anyway. “How was your day?”

“Oh it was nice! You know how I told Marjory down the street I felt ready to celebrate a little more this year now I got used to you being dead and all, so she treated me to lunch at that new Italian on the corner─you tell your Nuncio he was right, by the way, osso bucco is delicious. And then we went for a stroll in the park, and I was a little worried, because I’m still supposed to be grieving, but you’re alive and I wasn’t sure I’d look suitably emotional when we passed your favorite spots, but I do miss you so it really wasn’t that hard and all in all it was nice and Marjory’s none the wiser so I’m calling it a success.”

“I’m sorry,” Nile says, unsurprised when Mom tuts at her in response. “I know, I know. I still wish you didn’t have to lie to her.”

“Nile, baby, if Marjory knew, she’d understand. Now you stop worrying about her and tell me what your day was like.”

“It was alright,” Nile says, rolling her neck as the tension slowly seeps out of it, the breaths coming slower and easier now that she’s actually doing what she’s wanted to do all day. “I missed you. Jaamal taught me how to draw a dog, though, and then Antaram kicked my butt in training again.”

“Just you wait a few years,” Mom says with a chuckle, “then you can take advantage of her age.”

Nile snorts, even though she seriously doubts Andy will let an aging body get in the way of remaining the best fighter of the group. She might look past forty─although she doesn’t remember how long she’d lived before she died the first time─but she’s also been fighting since before horses were domesticated (or near enough), and all that expertise doesn’t just go away.

It’s still an amusing thought, though, so Nile chuckles along with her mother for a bit before continuing.

“It’s not that bad. I’m learning a lot.”

“Of course, of course! I’m just saying.”

“Of course,” Nile repeats, still smiling. “Anyway, that’s about it. Nuncio made us tagine, Jaamal made fun of him because apparently he cooks like a christian─I’m pretty sure that’s an inside joke. And then I was feeling a little down so Blàsi lent me Bâtard, and now I’m here.”

“Is Bâtard Franklin’s name?” Mom suggests when she hears Nile hiss at her slip up.

“Yes, but I don’t think he deserves it,” Nile says, grateful for her mother’s help. “I think we’re bonding. Either that or he just wants me for my fruit.” Mom chuckles. “He’s wearing a doctor’s outfit right now, by the way. I think it’s one of the homemade ones.”

It looks lumpier than the ones Bâtard wore at the beginning, at any rate, but in a way that makes it even cuter. Not that she needs the cozies to find Bâtard cute anymore. It’s entirely possible the tortoise doesn’t care one whit about her─she really doesn’t know a lot about them─but it’s clear that this little late night conversation was enough for Nile to bond with him.

“Oh, well, send me a picture if you can,” Mom says with the tone of a connoisseur readying to look at a newbie’s attempt, “see if I can give Blàsi some pointers.”

“I’ll try my best, but you know I can’t make promises,” Nile says, sadness creeping up again. “Places to see, things to do...you know how it is.”

“Speaking of,” Mom asks, “what time is it where you are? I mean─you can telle me that, right?”

“I can,” Nile says, smiling at her mother’s effort. “It’s uh...almost one AM.”

Nile yawns, unbidden, and then sighs.

“I think I need to go.”

“Yes you do,” Mom chides, teasing and firm all at once. “You’re not going to accomplish anything if you’re dead on your feet─off to bed, Nile.”

“I don’t want to,” Nile protests, not trying very hard to keep the pout out of her voice. “It’s your birthday.”

“It’s okay,” Mom says, and the tone of her voice is like a hug Nile wants to linger in forever. “I understand. I’m just glad you called.”

“I’m glad too,” Nile says, wiping at a stray tear on her cheek. “Happy birthday, mom.”

“I love you, baby,” Mom says, and Nile grins through a fresh wave of tears.

“Forever and ever?”

“Of course forever,” Mom promises with something like an amused eye roll in her tone. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes mom. Bye.”

“Bye bye, love you.”

“Love you too,” Nile says, and then she reluctantly disconnects the call.

She’s still feeling blue, it’s true, but it’s a different sort of ache now, the sort that’s softened enough to be a fond remembrance of someone you love rather than a knife to the heart. It isn’t something Nile has figured out how to value yet, but it could be, someday, maybe. With a watery sigh and a smile, Nile bends to pick Bâtard up─he’s fallen asleep, it seems, all snuggled up in his shell and entirely unresponsive in the time it takes for her to scribble a quick thanks at the bottom of Booker’s note and bring Bâtard back to his terrarium in the old parlor.

“M’ci,” Booker mutters from the seat to her left, and Nile almost has a heart attack.

When she turns to scold Booker for it, however, he’s already back to sleep─or feigning sleep, she’s not entirely sure─his back to the door to the bedroom and turned towards the only unboarded window, which they’ve been using as an entry and exit point. Nile sighs, shaking her head, and goes to the room she shares with the others, only to jump again when she lies down on her mattress and finds herself face to face with Andy’s eyes shining in the moonlight.

“I fear the day my sleep patterns start matching yours,” Nile whispers to Andy, and sighs when all that garners her is a sharp smile. “How are you not dead on your feet?”

“I’m old enough to transcend the need for sleep.”

Nile punches her in the shoulder.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yes, actually,” Nile says, trying to shift into a comfortable position. “I talked to my mother...it’s always too short but. It’s good.”

“Good,” Andy says. There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Nile, I’m sorry.”

Nile blinks at the darkness. It’s been seven years, and while she knows full well Andy is perfectly capable of recognizing her shortcomings, it’s the first time Nile hears her actually apologize for anything. She’s got a right to be a little startled, she thinks.

“I was with Book on this,” Andy explains when the silence between them has stretched a little while longer. “Not seeing your family again, I mean. I didn’t think it could turn out well, either...sure didn’t do him any good. Or Lykon, for that matter.”

“To be fair,” Nile admits after a beat, “I get it. I’m probably just very lucky. And I...I’ll lose them anyway. Sooner or later. I don’t─I’m glad I still have them for a bit, even if it hurts but...sometimes, I think at least the clean break was...easier.”

Andy stays quiet at that, eyes still looking at Nile in the darkness. Nile resists the urge to squirm under those eyes, but she’s not surprised when the urge to elaborate becomes too strong:

“It’s just...before my mom saw us, I didn’t have to wonder how this was affecting everyone. No contact, stay out of Chicago for another fifty years, maybe a little more, and that was it. It hurt, but at least the path was clear. Now I keep wanting to call her not knowing if I should. I have to use fake names to tell her about the most important people in my life, who she’ll never meet─I’m making her lie to her best friend!”

On the other side of the room, Nicky snorts in his sleep, and Nile smiles through her anguish as it morphs into a soft snore.

“They’ve been friends since elementary school, you know,” Nile tells Andy when she’s sure Nicky isn’t waking up. “They tell each other everything, and now my mom has to lie to her because of me. I don’t know how she can bear it.”

She pauses, breathing through the sudden tightness in her throat, and concludes:

“I don’t know how long she’ll bear it.”

Andy hums.

“I don’t have any advice for you Nile,” she says eventually. “I don’t really remember how that went for me, it’s been too long. But...even now, sometimes I─it’s hard, living without your family. Even at my age.”

“I...I didn’t know you felt like that,” Nile admits. “I thought you’d grown past that.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to,” Andy says. “I can’t remember what my parents looked like, or what it was like to be a child...but I do know what it’s like to want someone else to take care of your shit for a while.”

Nile grins, surprised into a light laughter that’s almost a giggle. Sometimes it’s easy to forget Andy is as human as any of them, even if she’s the oldest person on Earth. Discovering moments of relatability is always a delight and a relief all at once.

“I know we’re not your mom or your family,” Andy says after a while, the smile fading from her voice as she grows more serious, “and we’re not trying to be. But you’re─I won’t get angry if we’re not enough. You don’t have to...to hide it from me. You don’t have to stay alone and just...assume. There’s been too much of that lately.”

Nile can’t see Andy’s face in the darkness, not when her eyes aren’t angled to catch the moonlight, but it’s not hard to guess where she’s looking. In the doorway, Nile can see the outline of Booker’s seat, one hand dangling over the armrest─bottle free for the second night in a row, though there’s still an empty glass nearby on the floor.

“What I mean,” Andy says, startling Nile again, “is that you don’t have to be ashamed if we’re not what you want or need. The fact that you value your family isn’t a weakness, or a flaw. Just because we’ve─just because most of us grew out of it doesn’t mean you’re wrong for still needing more time, especially when it’s so recent. This...I didn’t tell him that, and I should have, so now I’m telling you. Not to protect us, but because it’s true.”

“Thanks, Andy,” Nile says.

“Sure. Now go to sleep,” Andy orders fondly.

Nile snorts, gives Andy a light punch in the shoulder, and turns over to go to sleep.

#The Old Guard #Nile Freeman #TOG Fic #NileFreemanWeek2020 #Fanfiction #Bâtard the tortoise #s: Bâtard verse

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wildlittlefoxsworld · 4 years

Text

I couldn't live without you | The Old Guard | Booker x Reader

I couldn't any other pictures of Booker. If someone has some, feel free to send them ne, please ;)

Summary: A routine job, you got hurt by a knife and died from the injury. But it took you too long to wake up and Booker got scared that you wouldn't come back to life. When you finally did Booker is a crying mess and you gonna comfort him. You end up confessing your feelings...

Warnings: angst, reader's death (but comes back to life), fluff, confession of feelings

Author's note: My first story with my sweetheart Booker, my second story in this fandom. Thank you for the likes there ;) I hope you have fun!

The Promise (Nicky and Joe)

***

It was a routine job, nothing special, there was a bank robbery and they were kepting hostages, the bank stuff and a few clients, including three children. Problem was the local police were overstrained and the criminals already killed two of the people. Nicky insisted to take the job, because they would doing the right thing and he has a soft spot for kids.

Andy and her team infiltrated the bank without noticed by the criminals. Booker took the first man with a precise shot down and aimed for another one, when he realized that they were more men than expected. One of them freaked out and fired uncontrolled around him. You were right behind Booker and a man came from your left. You shot three times in his abdomen and he fall to the ground.

Andy and Nile took the freaked out madman down and Nicky and Joe helped the hostages to exit the building without being harmed.

You heard Nile screamed “Clear” from behind you, which meant they catched all evil men. You went with Booker to search for more possible targets.

“Be careful,” Booker whispered and you didn't mind his words. You were always careful and he was always worried. You knew he hated you getting hurt, but it was part of your work.

“Watch out!” you shouted and Booker turned around. He fired his gun, but the man had still enough strenght to throw a knife. It didn't go in Booker's direction, but in yours and a second later the knife stuck out of your chest. It went right in your heart.

“No,” you heard Booker scream agonizingly and you felt two strong arms that catched you before you hit the ground, but then everything went black.

“No, no, no,” he repeated quietly and breathless.

You were dead, of course, your eyes wasn't focus on anything and you stopped breathing at all. Booker grabbed the sheft of the knife and pulled it out with a squishing noise. He searched in pathetic hope for a pulse on your throat, but he couldn't find one.

“What happenend?” Andy shouted when she ran towards Booker and you. She looked at your dead body and groaned. “No one is harmed, but her. Fuck.”

Booker stroked a hair strain out of your face and waited impatiently for you to wake up. Usually it didn't take you long, even if you were the second youngest of the group of immortals.

“Come on, little one, wake up,” Booker begged with a broken voice, but you just stared back with cold eyes.

“We need to leave. Come on,” Andy hustled everyone and Booker scooped you up in his arms.

Nile, Nicky and Joe waited on the back door and Joe frowned when he saw that Booker carried your body.

“What happened?”

“A man throw a knife and killed her,” Andy explained flatly and left the building at first.

“She hasn't healed yet?” Nicky asked confused with a worried expression. But Booker didn't respond and followed Andy outside where two cars waited for them. He went for the car with Andy sitting behind the steering wheel.

Andy watched him laying your body on the back side and he sat down next to you. He bedded your head in his lab and caressed your cheek.

Booker didn't understand why you were still lifeless, it had been minutes since he removed the knife. Carefully he took the collar of your shirt between his fingers and raised the material, the wound was still open. Maybe you were healing from the inside and there was more damage than he could see.

“Nothing?” Andy inquired and Booker shook his head with tears collecting in his eyes.

“She can't be dead, right?” Booker insisted weary.

“No, she is too young,” Andy assured him.

The car ride to the safehouse took half an hour and after seven minutes your chest started rising slightly and a few seconds later you came with a deep inhale back to life.

Your hands searched for something and Booker grabbed your right. “It's okay, Y/N. You're alright, you're safe,” he laughed relieved and tears streamed down his face.

You took a few breaths and inspected your surroundings. “Sebastien,” you whispered and laid your hand on his cheek to wipe the tears with your thumb away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

“I know… it's just…,” he tried to say, but couldn't find words. You frowned meditatively. You never saw Booker crying and you were shocked that you were the cause for his condition.

“You really thought I was dead?” you asked him softly and both of your eyes were locked. “You thought I wouldn't wake up?”

Booker closed his eyes and nodded slowly, a few tears found their way down his cheeks again and he exhaled shakily.

“I can't stand when someone hurt you…,” he whispered only for your ears to hear.

“Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere,” you tried to soothe him and he nestled his cheek against your hand. Booker looked again in your eyes and to your surprise you saw something like deep adoration or fondness in his.

“Come here,” he mumbled and pulled you in a sitting position on his lap and burried his face in the crook of your neck, you felt him taking a deep breath and snuggle you closer.

You were a little bit thrown of your guard, because you weren't used to this kind of affection from Booker, but you wrapped your arms around his trembling shoulders. He was usually reserved and you never got more than a short hugging. But this situation was new to you and you were sure that it was new to him, too.

Andy parked the car in front of your currently safehouse, well, it was an old church in Goussainville. But you hoped that it wouldn't for too long, you didn't like the lack of privacy, even if all of them felt like family to you.

Andy turned around and watched the two of you curiously and still a little worried. “Are you alright?”

“We're fine,” you answered with a slight smile and Andy nodded relieved.

“Do you come inside? Or…,” she asked uncertain and opened the car door.

“Give us a moment.”

She didn't respond and got out of the vehicle. The others waited for you and all of them with a worried expression. Andy told them to gave Booker and you some alone time. You watched them enter the church and sighed heavily.

You began to stroke through Booker's hair and you were glad that he calmed down.

“Are you still with me?” you giggled and tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” he just said and didn't move an inch. You felt comfortable with him in your arms, you had to admit. He was warm and you savoured the feeling for a moment longer. But you knew that the two of you needed to talk.

“Do you want to tell me what… okay, that's stupid, you know… you didn't seem to me like you were a cuddler.”

“I'm sorry, I can let you go if you're uncomfortable. I think I got carried away at some point…,” he apologized and started to move away from you.

“I kinda like it,” you confessed and shoved a hand in his neck to stop him from pulling away. Booker frowned, but nodded slowly in understanding. His hand caressed your back and leaned his forehead against your temple.

“I like it, too.” You felt his warm breath in your face and closed your eyes again.

“Can we do this again sometime?” you asked carefully with hope in your voice. You wished for a long time that the two of you would share moments like this. Since you joined the group a year before you met Nile, you felt attracted to the handsome blonde man. But Booker never showed anything else towards you, he always acted like a friend to you. You were sure he didn't notice your crush on him, but others did, Nicky at first. Nicky tried to encourage you to tell Booker about your feelings, but you were scared that it could destroy your friendship and the dynamic of the group.

“You doesn’t know what you do to me, do you?” Booker observed and you inclined your head.

“What do you mean?”

He surprised you so many times with his actions and words today that you made so confused, you weren't sure if you should believe him or he was simply kidding you.

Booker sighed and looked at you. Your beautiful eyes studied him for an answer. He knew he had to tell you the truth about his feelings. Little did he know that you were feeling the same way.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just…I can’t imagine you aren't here.”

Now you were speechless and starred at him in a dither. “That was very specific,” you determined. You weren't aware that you meant so much to him.

Booker took your face in both hands and you touched his wrist with one hand.

“I don't want lose you. I was so scared… I need and want you by my side, every day, I didn't realize it until now,” he explained and you heard the desperation in his voice. “Is there any chance you feel the same as I do?”

You smiled happily. “I like you for a while now and I'm happy about your words.”

Booker chuckled and stroked your cheeks. “Back in the 19th century I would ask you to marry me, but for now it's enough… well, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You loved his homour and laughed along with him.

“Yes, I want to be your girlfriend,” you declared.

Booker grinned happily like a little boy who got the biggest lollipop ever.

You needn't more words for explanation. The fear and sadness from the past hour were forgotten, you pressed your foreheads together and lingered in peaceful and quietly atmosphere. This moment was owned by the both of you and it marked the beginning of your future as a couple and the growing of a love that will be stronger than everything you expierenced before.

“Is it okay if I'm gonna kiss my girlfriend now?” Booker asked gently and his right hand wandered in your neck. Your eyes flickered to his lips and you were curious if they were as soft as they looked.

You nodded one time, it was enough as an answer for him. Slowly he pulled you towards him, again you felt his warm breath on your skin and then was his mouth pressed softly on yours. He started with placing little kisses from time to time to your lips, but you wanted more.

Your body shivered when your mouths found a pleasant rhythym and you shifted yourself that you stradled his lap.

Your upper body were so pressed to close together that not even a paper would fit between you.

You imagined many time what it would feel like to kiss him, it was marvelous. When his tongue traced your lower lip and asked for entrance you opened your mouth a little. With a grin he licked past your lips and you moaned when he began a playful battle for dominance.

“I could get used to that,” Booker mumbled against your lips and kissed you again with all of his passion for you.

***

What do you think?

#the old guard #the old guard fanfic #the old guard booker #booker x reader #sebastien le livre #sebastien le livre x reader #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #nile freeman #the old guard x reader

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alostsock · 3 years

Text

With me.

Summary: Andy and Nicky get kidnapped. Post-movie.

TW: kidnapping, starvation, dehydration, weight loss, temporary character death (I mean it’s The Old Guard?), a bit of blood, mentions of violence.

AN: I didn’t know you could get cut off in the tags that’s never happened to me before apparently there’s a length limit.

For all her years, Andy cannot remember having felt purpose like this before. Knowing that her body no longer heals does nothing to dissuade her - if anything, it motivates her further. She may break, she may hurt but she now sees, as she hasn’t in centuries (maybe ever) that it is worth it.

Nile seems to accept her leadership, and follows it without question.

Nicky and Joe, however, draw on almost two thousand years of combined stubbornness trying to keep her from harm.

Nicky researches nutrition and tries to serve her balanced (boring, bland) meals despite her protests. Joe finds her the best available body armour (never mind how it moves). They both throw themselves in front of her at every possible opportunity. (This isn’t to say that Nile doesn’t, in the face of real danger - just that Nicky and Joe don’t seem to understand that she doesn’t need protecting from traffic or raccoons or hot oil on the stove).

She doesn’t think she’s been particularly careless - they vet jobs as they’ve always done, and now they have Copley to help. She’s not reckless, just filled with purpose, with vigour, with the need to do right. Besides, all her years have taught her that sometimes, despite best efforts, jobs go wrong.

It doesn’t entirely bother her that they’ve been locked up in a cell. It’s hardly the first time, after all. Besides, she has every faith in Nile and Joe and Copley to track them down.

What she does hate with every fibre of her being, is that Nicky is locked up with her.

He reassures her, because of course he does, that it isn’t her fault, just as she reassures him that it isn’t his.

They’ve been captured together before, they all have, really, and they know the routine. They have exhausted their options for escape, have tried at every opportunity, and have failed. All they’ve managed to do is maybe piss off their captors a little more than was strictly necessary. It isn’t in them to just give up and accept their predicament, though - they need to try everything first. Once they’ve done this, however, all that’s left to do is wait.

It’s all standard procedure, as far as standard procedure goes for a bunch of immortal warriors. Andy finds the way that criminals haven’t really changed the core of their modus operandi in decades more than a little tiresome. There’s an angry kingpin (with his fingers in many increasingly unconscionable pies) who doesn’t believe that nobody hired them, who scoffs at their insistence that there aren’t more of them, a selection of cronies and hired hands who are all too happy to try to beat the answers out of them, and a general limited amount of food, water, and warmth to make them extra miserable. Frankly, she’s bored with it.

Joe is coming. Nile is coming. They just have to bide their time, like every time this has happened before.

The one difference - the only difference - is that this time Andy is mortal.

Nicky (and Joe, her boys, her beloved boys) have always hated it when she put herself in danger, and even more so when she did it to protect them. But, until this point, they recognized her leadership and would defer to it. They accepted that this sometimes meant letting her take the brunt of their latest opponent’s anger if she felt it necessary to keep them safe, or to get them out of a sticky situation.

This time, however, there is no dissuading Nicky. No command, no proposed strategy will change his mind. Andy still puts up a fight, but eventually he turns those big, plaintive eyes on her and admits in a soft voice that the best way she can keep him safe right now is if she lets him take care of her - if she lets him stop them from doing something to her which cannot be undone.

Andy has never been able to say no to Nicky when he looks at her like that, and this time is no different.

So, she agrees. When their captors come in to see if they’re ready to talk, Nicky is the one who goads them, infuriates them. When they’re delivered pitiful meals, he refuses his half, begging with his soulful eyes.

I can starve, he says. You can’t.

I don’t need water, he says. You do.

Andy hates it. She doesn’t feel mortal, she feels the same as she always has. She feels strong, she feels enraged, she wants to protect her Nico. She wants to shield him from the world. She knows, logically, that after nine hundred years there isn’t much innocence left, but still he feels so young to her. They both do. They all do.

She thinks of the plea in his eyes, though, the desperation in his face as he silently begs her to stay behind him, to stay silent, to let him take it, and so she does.

She suspects it isn’t entirely quick tempers or even benevolence that has their captors keep taking Nicky’s bait, though - she suspects that the brighter among them recognize the look in her eyes - they see that by hurting Nicky they hurt her more than they could by beating her.

---

They lose track of time. There is no natural light in the room they are in, so they don’t really know how many days have passed. Andy isn’t sure if the room is getting colder, or if they’re maybe just getting weaker with lack of food. Perhaps both.

The first few days their captors try violence, but when neither of them cracks (and also as they seem to take out no small number of henchmen every time they are in the same room as them) they seem to settle on trying to starve the answers they want out of them. Nicky continues to insist on giving Andy his share, so while she doesn’t know exactly how many days it’s been, she knows it’s been long enough for Nicky to start looking grey with dehydration. She suspects he will die from it soon, but when she brings this up to him he just gives her a tired smile and reminds her that it’s fine if he does - he will come back. The only thing that seems to matter to him is that she doesn’t.

She’s miserable - cold and damp and hungry - but what hurts the most is watching Nicky waste away beside her.

---

They talk - or, at least, at the beginning they talk. As time goes on and Nicky grows weaker, it mostly becomes Andy talking while Nicky dozes (or lies unconscious, or dies and comes back) tucked into her side. It starts as discussions of possible means to escape (always in oldest languages they share, just in case anyone is listening), but when that seems to become increasingly hopeless, and as Nicky starts to lose the energy to hold his head up, Andy starts spending most of her time telling him her favourite stories of years gone by.

They (he - Andy reminds herself) might be immortal, but they are still human. Their bodies will heal, will regenerate but they need food and water to do so, so as Nicky fades and starts to die not only from lack of water but from starvation the deaths start to come closer and closer together. He will die from malnourishment, come back, and then, when his body realizes it still has no stores to draw from, still has no energy to heal itself with, he will die again.

Sometimes, when he is too out of it to protest, she tips small sips of water into his mouth. This tends to end up with him waking up enough to realize what she is doing, at which point he will turn tear-filled eyes on her and remind her that while he will come back from whatever physical trauma his body is put through, he will not be able to handle waking up to find her permanently dead beside him when he could have prevented it.

---

They move them once during their captivity. Having learned early on that entering the room while either of them is awake is dangerous, both times they accomplish the move by knocking them out with gas and transporting them while they’re unconscious. Andy comes to in a shipping container, bound with rope and alone. She makes quick work of the bindings before exhausting herself trying to find a way out. Nothing gives, no matter how hard she tries.

She loses time again. Perhaps more gas? Maybe her body just gave out? She isn’t sure, but when she wakes she and Nicky have been tossed in the same room again, carelessly dropped on the cold floor. There is blood on Nicky’s temple that wasn’t there before.

She wonders if their captors have realized that, no matter how much he bleeds, none of the marks linger on his skin. She hopes that the mess of dried blood he’s covered in is enough to mask the fact that he isn’t actually bleeding where he should be, because she doesn’t want to think about how their situation could get messier if they figured that out. Luckily, they seem to prefer keeping their distance (or perhaps they have just realized it is best for their own safety to not get too close).

Andy frees herself from her new bounds. Nicky stirs but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fully wake, so once Andy has repeated the process of checking their cell for potential means of escape (she doesn’t find any) she drags him to a corner of the room and, leaning against the wall, pulls him to her chest.

---

Someone comes to check on them what Andy assumes is once a day, with a bottle of water and some stale bread, or sometimes a can of soup and a demand for answers that they both don’t have and would never give anyway.

Nicky is barely more than skin and bones, a painfully fragile warmth (and sometimes lack thereof) in her arms. She is hardly any better, the food they get absolutely pitiful, but at least she hasn’t died of starvation. She isn’t the one who keeps coming to in stuttering huffs of air before inevitably going limp again - over and over and over.

---

Andy rouses from sleep. She’s hungry - hungrier than usual. She thinks they haven’t been fed in a while. Nicky is still slumped against her, his soft breaths puffing against her neck. She tiredly runs her hands through his dirty hair, brushing it back from his face as she wonders if they have given up on them entirely. She feels like it’s been too long, like they are overdue for food and questions, but she has no way of being sure. Maybe this day has just felt longer than the others. Maybe it’s been more than one.

The door opens with a clang. Andy doesn’t bother to look up, keeping her face buried in Nicky’s hair and keeping her own thin arms wrapped around his frail form as she holds him close on her lap. Even when she senses someone letting out a breath and dropping hard onto their knees beside her, she doesn’t look up. She would fight, but she doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe she could knock out this one with the remaining dregs of her strength, but then what? She doesn’t think she has it in her to fight her way out all while carrying Nicky, frighteningly light as he is at the moment.

Joe is coming. Nile is coming. They just have to wait.

A shaking hand meets hers where it is buried in Nicky’s hair. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. The hand reaches across Nicky to tuck her own hair behind her ear. Initially she recoils, but then she takes a deep breath and tries to muster the reserves of her strength. The person is close. Maybe she could take this one out. She takes another breath, steeling herself. Her eyelashes brush against Nicky’s greasy hair as she blinks, her face still tucked down onto his head. She moves to look up but then she realizes that she knows that hand.

She knew that hand for millennia, but she hasn’t held it in hundreds of years.

She blinks, raising her head.

The world swims in front of her, and she blinks a few more times before it comes into focus.

She must be dreaming.

She hears shouting, sees the mouth in front of her moving but her brain doesn’t connect the sight with the sound. There’s the sound of running footsteps and Joe - or her mind’s conjured version of Joe - comes skidding around the corner, making a beeline for the three of them when he enters the room.

Suddenly, there are inexplicably warm hands pulling Nicky away from her. She clings tighter, clings with all the strength she has left as dream-Joe tries to take Nicky from her.

She huffs out a disgruntled protest, complains that this is my dream, why can’t you do what I want. I want him with me before burying her face back into Nicky’s hair and trying to let the dream take her somewhere else. Perhaps her subconscious can take them somewhere warm.

She doesn’t get the chance. Moments later, hands are prying Nicky from her arms and she finds that she doesn’t have enough strength to keep fighting back. She opens her eyes again to see the arms pick Nicky up, cradling him against a broad chest. She sees Nile enter the room, coming up to her with her hands raised before pausing in front of her and giving her a brief relieved smile before hauling her to her feet and pulling her arm across strong shoulders.

She doesn’t see anybody else.

Just Joe and Nile.

Joe and Nile have come.

---

She vaguely remembers stumbling through hallways, Nile hauling her uncooperative body along. Joe is just ahead of them, Nicky held close.

Their path out is clear.

Some of the guards have been cut down, some have been shot, others, inexplicably, have been struck with arrows. Nicky hasn’t used a bow in decades, Joe in even longer. She didn’t realize Nile knew how.

When they reach the getaway car Nile helps her into the backseat before climbing in after her, taking her hand tightly in both of hers. Joe gets in on the other side with Nicky still in his arms, maneuvering awkwardly, trying to avoid bumping Nicky against the door.

Andy leans her head on Joe’s shoulder, leaving her right hand in Niles’ as her left buries itself in Nicky’s hair. She breathes in the smell of Joe’s shirt, finally allowing the last remnants of tension to leave her body. She sees Booker get into the driver’s seat. They must have needed to call him in for backup. The passenger seat is empty. She supposes they’re a little cramped in the back, but she doesn’t want to let go of Nile and she isn’t sure she would be able to handle Nicky or Joe moving away from her. She relaxes completely against Joe’s side, and relief so strong it makes her want to cry overcomes her as he presses a kiss to her hair.

She sleeps.

The passenger side door opens and shuts.

The wheels squeal as the car pulls away.

#the old guard #fanfic #h/c #tw; starvation #tw: captivity #andromache the scythian #nicolo di genova #nothing really goes into detail about the actual bad guys #it's mostly just sad cuddling #protective big sister andy #because I love it #I love it like she loves her boys #I mean this is mostly her and nicky but joe and nicky are her boys and she would do anything for them and they would do anything for her

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freakypumpkin · 4 years

Text

The Old Guard

So, I watched the Old Guard for the second time now, and I have some thoughts. (Also, be warned, I had my last exam today, so this will be a lot of rambling)

SPOILER WARNING

I constantly wondered why this movie hit me so hard and why it felt like I saw the concept of immortality for the first time. Now, I’m still figuring stuff out, so this won’t be everything, but just something I noticed.

The Beauty of meaningful Silence And meaningful Noise

They don’t yell. The characters get angry and they argue, but they don't yell at each other, no screaming matches. They have lines, that are bitten out more sharply, but they usually don’t raise their voices. Which makes the moments, when they do, and I think it’s mostly just with Joe getting angry at Booker for his betrayal, much more impactful. They show anger in their way of fighting, but again, they don’t scream stuff during those scenes, which gives them a focus that I found surprisingly refreshing. In the train, after they have the dream about Nile, Andy gets angry and frustrated, when Nicky insists on going after Nile, she could’ve easily blown up at him, but she didn't, neither of them raised their voices because they didn't have to, because the others listened. Same with Andy’s and Nile’s argument about Andy not wanting to wear a protective vest in the final battle, it could have easily become a shouting match, but that’s not what happened (also because shouting gives away your position, but I still want to make my point). Nile’s words become sharper, but not louder. Another thing is, how Nile wakes up screaming from her nightmare, and the others are instantly up and ready to fight. There’s a loud noise, one of their own became loud, and was a sign of instant danger. (Or so I like to think)

In general I think, here’s an interesting play with giving weight to things not just by not saying anything at times, but also through specifically placed ‘loud moments’, that get more meaningful through the otherwise calm atmosphere in their communication. I also think, that that kind of communication adds to what makes their dynamic so special.

Sidenote ‘FIGHTING’: They fight with a laser focus and as a unit. There’s no competition like it can easily be done in group fighting scenes. There’s no showing off with fancy moves and when there are witty one-liners during fight scenes, they have meaning, because with the contrast of them usually not going for it, that this has a special meaning, when they do. (Like Joe’s line in the final fight)

It could have easily been turned into a ‘Oh, we’re so old, we have fun times during fights because we’ve done it so often’ (which when executed right can be good). They take it seriously. None of them gets into fights for fun, none are excited to fight again, to kill people. The only case of one actively going in for the kill, is when Joe goes after Keane(?), and while we knew he had it coming, it wasn't in general for hurting Nicky, it was the point of him shooting Nicky, that drove him over the edge. Their fighting experience is shown in the way, they fight with each other. One finishing off the enemy of the other.

Immortality

The big topic of the whole movie, but not a new idea. But what makes these immortals sort of more approachable? In a way they are just MORE. I kept thinking about other immortal characters I knew (at this point I mean no shade to any other iteration of immortal characters, it’s more of a analysis of what the ‘generic immortal trope’ sort of is atm) and I realized, that you often have the case of extreme wealth, because when somebody lives that long, you have a lot of time to gather a lot of money. But it’s at least not flaunted here. They have dusty, old places to crash. Not stuff they bought years ago, but places they stumbled upon in former wars. And yes, it can be due to stying under the radar, but I liked the change. Then, no constant name dropping of well-known historical figures. It’s only used to give Nile and the viewer a timetable of how long they’ve been alive. There’s more about it, but let’s move on to DEATH

Usually, when you have immortal characters, death is a non-issue, it can become a running joke and it is treated with a certain amount of humor, but whenever one of them dies (not just getting hurt), there’s weight to it. I think, what plays into that is the fact, that there’s the chance of their wounds not healing anymore. But there’s never a joke about ‘Come one, get back up’, when one of them goes down. They stay with each other until the other comes back to life, which I think is greatly shown when Nile jumps out of the window and they all stay until she shows sing of life again, and they can be sure she’s alright. Despite the fact, that Nile is the youngest immortal and therefore shouldn't even have the danger of not healing anymore. They still wait to see she’s really okay.

Death still means something to them, and everytime their pain is acknowledged, which I think, grounds the movie very well.

And maybe that can be said in general. The movie just feels grounded, with the idea of the Pharma people of what immortality is being that weird oblivious ideal image. But you can still see where they are coming from, like, yes, ending all of these terrible illnesses sounds super great, but as always, it’s not that easy.

And the KINDNESS and COMPASSION

Even after the horrible experiences during the witch trials and loosing Quynh, it took Andy so much longer to get to the point of wanting to throw the towel, of just giving up on humanity. And in the end, she still doesn't. Also, the punishments they hand out. Okay, Merrick got killed because he wouldn’t have given up on following them, and you can argue it as self-defense, but Copely? He screwed them over, but doesn't get killed, instead they recognize he has a skillset that they can use for their benefit, so that’s what they decide. And Booker doesn’t get punished in some horrible way, he gets a timeout, which is painful and definitely a punishment, but is also temporary. And I think, it shows their way of immortal thinking, like, when you’re alive for so long, you realize things are temporary, but that counts for the good and the bad things.

Sidenote on ‘outliving your loved ones’: It’s a generic thing for immortal characters to be tortured by, but what I liked a lot was Booker’s addition of ‘They will start hating you for living/healing’ and I think that’s often overlooked and another reason why staying with your loved ones can be torture, not just for watching them age and die, but also watching them growing to resent you for living.

#the old guard #personal thought stuff #the old guard spoilers #tog

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corinthbayrpg · 3 years

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NAME. Helena ‘Lenny’ Romeijnders AGE & BIRTH DATE. 37 & March 14, 1984 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Werewolf OCCUPATION. Fire Chief FACE CLAIM. Lauren German

BIOGRAPHY

Some days, Helena wishes her life began the way that the world did; with a bang. Instead, she was born in Amsterdam, under blue skies and in a home that was warm. The first born in the Romeijnders family, followed by Sander four years later— she took the role of eldest seriously, elbowing a brother who tugged at long flaxen locks and forming escape plans as she stood up on the tips of her toes when he’d gotten them into trouble, life was sweet for them. As a child, Helena was clever, with blue eyes eager to observe, to see the world around them and find her place in it. She was a protector, more level headed than Sander, with his knees always skinned and his eyes mischievous— level headed and practical.

She did well in school, stubborn and stuck up, but successful. Helena became Lenny, dropping the syllables for something shorter, easier to spit between teeth where delicate syllables did not. She grew confident, loyalty ribboned through her like the marrow in her bones and she took care of her friends, her brother, and Andrea, who was five when Lenny was fifteen. She was a child with wide, scared eyes, who needed extra care and extra attention. There was only so much that she could do— at eighteen she left home, leaving for school in Rotterdam. Despite being only an hour away, her parents urged her to cut ties, to distance herself just a little bit and to relax. For the first time in her life, Lenny closed the door to her responsibilities and as she studied, she began to come into herself.

There was freedom in being alone for the first time, to not have her phone ring and have it be Sander, needing to be bailed out, or her mother begging her to look after Andrea after school. She made friends, a difficult feat at first, then something easier. Finding her stride came as she left her teenaged years, she found a streak of selfishness that she liked. She forgot herself when her hands furled around the slender wrists of other women, when they tumbled into cotton beds and tangled there— a new fixation budded, she formed relationships that stole her attention from her studies, that had her ignoring the buzz of her phone. She supposed she was happier this way, without tiredness and worry for Andrea and Sander, with her only pressing obligations being the deadlines for school.

Things happened quickly, after that. A few years spent at university passed, and then she was called out from a lecture, her name echoing over the tinny loudspeaker as she collected her belongings and sat nervously in the dean’s office as he explained the situation at home. Sander was gone, her parents were frantic, and Andrea— she was alone. Lenny recalled the quiet girl, the shell-shocked baby who had taken a year to confidently speak aloud and she withdrew from her studies a semester shy of graduation, from a life that she had forged and loved, to return to the Romeijnders family home.

Returning home was like stepping into the crater left after a bomb blast. Her parents were worried, Andrea answered only to Andy now and whatever sweetness that lay in her had been replaced by something wicked. She acted out, caused trouble and harm simply for the sake of causing it, and Lenny watched, brows knit in concern as the younger girl shed childhood to become something more malicious. She wasn’t a parent, it wasn’t her role; but as oldest sister she changed her place as someone who could hold her hand to someone who would bail her out of trouble. Lenny picked her up after school, or from school, murmuring excuses in the principal’s office, or lying through her teeth about potential forms of discipline that would be used to resolve bad behaviours.

She got a job as a cashier and life stretched on dully, each day with the faded vignette of the day prior, unremarkable. A year passed and she barely noticed, the promise of returning to her studies felt further away as another slipped by. Lenny took to nature, running for hours through the woods, making her way through trails and over small brooks, staying out later and later— finding any excuse to for quiet before she retuned back to the chaos at home. Andy had pulled the fire alarm, Andy had gotten into a fight, it fell like a mantra between the constant insistence from her mother that she’d seen Sander in the market today, or that she swore she saw the back of his jacket. Another year passed. Whatever she knew of her brother had fallen away, his room remained closed, her mother hopeful. Andy turned fifteen as she turned twenty-five and the other girl got louder, worse even, and Lenny spent more and more time in the darkness of the woods.

Of that night, she only recalls bits and pieces. Fragments cling to her memory; a low snarl, bright yellow eyes. There are no wolves in those woods, she had told herself as she continued her run, ignoring the howls that pierced through the dark of the evening. She remembers how a shiver had raked its nails down the notches of her spine and she had been afraid. There was pain, and it latched itself with curved teeth into her forearm, and then, as she wrestled herself away, it disappeared how it had come, suddenly.

A month passed and feeling sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. She found herself watching the sky, fixating on the movement of the stars, on the way that the moon waned and began to fatten, before it hung over Amsterdam, over the forests that she returned to, full bellied and bright. The first night of her existence as a wolf was soaked in blood. Other wolves circled her, watching as she writhed under the birth of her first transformation. Tears tracked on her cheeks as bones broke and skin tore, whatever had been girlish and soft was replaced by a creature engineered for slaughter. Other wolves, they circled her when at last, she tipped her head up and said her first words in wolfsong.

It was after that night, that she knew that she too, had to leave. The pack stayed with her until dawn, wrapping her shivering form in a blanket of itchy wool, whispering to her as she sat in shock, that she would be alright. She’d become something monstrous over the course of a month, a result of an accident. Whatever place Lenny had at home, it would have to be abandoned for a world that beckoned darkly, with promise of other species that defied everything she knew of the normal and the natural, one that was dangerous and all encompassing. Her family would be alright, she decided, leaving a note that she tucked into Andy’s furled fist as she slept before packing her belongings to follow the pack.

Twelve years pass in a daze. Europe is beautiful, full of wonder and she finds pieces of herself again, growing from something young to someone stronger— more self assured. In her chest, anger boils and steams when she thinks of a brother who had left them behind, who had found the world to be more worthwhile than their family. With this emotion, comes guilt, washing like a tide: she hates him for it but she too had followed in Sander’s footsteps, casting Andy aside for the open playground of Europe. Lipstick smears on her mouth, blonde hair grows longer and her face stays unchanged for a long time, time for Lenny stands still and she is a wolf, part of a collective and no longer an individual, until she too out grows that. Shedding the pack, she roams alone, a strategist and a soldier, happy in her own company and the company of those who are fleeting.

Lenny cycled through life, wild and reckless for some years, violent and righteous in others but now, she finds herself padding into Corinth Bay, following rumours and names of parts of herself that had been left behind. If the Romeijnders siblings are formed of head, heart and brawn, Helena is all three and she seeks to find and piece together what remains of her family. This is her duty, her Sisyphean task, and it is a quiet life and comfort that she wishes to languish in now. There’s a home in the town that she’s beginning to fill with possessions and a job at the fire station that she goes to daily. The break in her nomadic lifestyle feels like it’s doing her good, but she’s struggling to loosen white knuckles from the reins of control.

She is neither angry, indignant, nor embittered— but she is empowered. Strength is her forte, Helena possesses it in spades; they say that none will fight as valiantly as a cornered dog but they have also never seen a woman with a loyalty as ingrained as hers.

PERSONALITY

+ selfless, loyal, softhearted - assertive, lascivious, critical

PLAYED BY SAM. EST. She/Her.

#sam

4 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 90

Warnings: none

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

“I have a serious bone to pick with you,” Riley scolds, thousands of miles away in her dorm room at Colorado State. Clad in a black and green plaid hunting jacket that’s miles too big on her petite frame, vibrant red hair tucked up into a ‘trucker style’ ball cap. “Why did I have to find out about this from Douchey McDouche Face?”

Despite there being a near fourteen year age difference between them and no blood ties whatsoever, their relationship has always been strong; even with the familial drama and the miles that have continuously kept them separated. Esme can vividly remember meeting her for the first time; a then three year old gazing up at her -all of seventeen- with pure adoration and idolization. That cute little ginger with her massive green eyes and her already fiery personality; drawn to Esme and her then tomboyish style and her penchant -despite her own small stature- for full contact sports. She can even recall how good it had felt; having someone that DID look at her that way.

For years she'd been practically invisible; the last child between her mother and father, treated as if there’d been simply no love left to bestow on her after piling it on five boys. Her father had been her only source of real affection; the only person who’d ever showed pride in her achievements and never dragged her down for her choices or belittled her passions and interests. When he died, everything went to shit. While her mother’s toxicity increased and she kicked the emotional abuse up several notches, her brothers had all tried -in their obnoxious and overbearing ways- to step up and take their father’s place in her life. They’d all failed, causing her to become uncharacteristically sullen and withdrawn; prone to cutting when the depressions and feelings of inadequacy hit especially hard and her mother no longer hide her rapidly growing hatred for her only daughter. Life had been pretty dark; many moments where she thought the world would be a better place without her in it and she’d actually been in possession of handfuls of pills and had the desire -and the chance- to end the suffering.

Then ‘The Sarge’ had come along. Filling that fatherly role without expecting or demanding it; letting her call the shots and make the moves when it came to accepting him into her life. And he’d ‘shown up’ in ways her mother and brothers never bothered; quietly and lovingly, showing interest in her life and valuing her opinions and thoughts and getting involved in the things she enjoyed. She was no longer the only one on the wrestling squad or the lacrosse team or at swim meets without someone there to support her. Sarge would always be there; sitting in the front row, enthusiastically cheering her on and nudging other parents with his elbow while proudly declaring “that’s MY girl!”.

And just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get better, they did. Sarge was granted full custody of his only child; her mother choosing her career over that adorable redhead. Despite their age difference, she and Riley had become inseparable. Happily and willingly taking the little girl to the movies or the mall; listening to preschool gossip while out for dinner at McDonalds, letting the little girl climb into bed with her during thunderstorms or after a bad dream. Over the years they’d both been branded as the ‘black sheep’; ostracized for their ‘lifestyle choices’ and how ‘wayward and lost’ they’d managed to become.

Nothing brings two people together like shared alienation and pure hatred and spite for their ‘enemies’.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Esme attempts to reason, as she conducts the video chat in one of the ICU’s private family meeting rooms. “I know finals are coming up. And you’ve been busy with placement. I didn’t want to add THIS to your plate.”

She’d left Tyler in extremely compassionate hands: a quiet and gentle Andy, who’d been standing over his sleeping friend and in the midst of a traditional Aboriginal blessing and prayer for healing. She’d had to leave; the purity and the beauty of both Andy’s heart and the moment too profound for her already fragile emotions to handle. Instead she spends the time with both her sister and Addie; the infant cuddled close to her chest, a receiving blanket emblazoned with images of Baby Dumbo covering her as she nurses. She had terribly missed even the simplicity and familiarity of such a common occurrence; the light weight of her daughter’s tiny body against hers, those tiny hands that gently knead at her breast or grab at her necklace and reach for her hair.

“THIS is my brother in law,” Riley says. “You know how much I love the guy. How much he’s the cat’s ass and I totally approve of how he treats you like a queen.”

“You’re one of the few people in my life who do. Love him.”

“Well NOT everyone can have exceptional taste. They’re just bitter and jealous. You got out of that shit hole and away from their crap. They’re all still stuck in and thriving on it; too chicken shit to ever think on their own, in fear of pissing off Mommy Dearest. Tyler’s the best thing that came along to that family in...well...forever. They’re just pissed they can’t control him; that he gives zero fucks about any of them and doesn't shy away from letting them know.”

“Mommy Dearest still insists he’s the WORST thing to ever happen. That I’ve somehow been forced into this life and he’s somehow brainwashed me and has some strong and powerful hold over me that keeps me around.”

Riley gives a derisive snort.

“I mean even in her condition, she still managed to send me an email asking me when I was going to get my shit together and realize ‘that man’ is nothing but poison and bad news. She didn’t even remember the twins’ birthdays or Millie’s. Or she did and just didn’t give a shit. She’s always treated those kids differently from the rest. All because she has this stupid, imaginary axe to grind against Tyler.”

“Fuck her,” Riley snarls. “You’re way too good for her. For that whole damn family. You always have been. And he is DEFINITELY way too good for them. Probably why none of your brothers like him; he makes them feel inferior and most definitely puts their masculinity into doubt. They’re probably pissed off their wives think of him when they’re flicking the bean.”

Esme frowns. “Riley!”

“Please tell me you’re still not bringing your bullshit; the whole insecurity crap. Who cares if other women lust after your husband? Or if they get themselves off thinking about him? Who is the one HE is getting off in person? Who gets to have THAT going down on her whenever she damn well wants? Cut your shit; he only has eyes for you.”

“It’s not him I don’t trust.”

“He knows how to say no. I’m sure he has, many times. No one else exists in his eyes. There’s not one woman in this world that would make that man unfaithful. So stop. Let other women...and probably more than a handful of men...fantasize about him. You get the real thing. I mean, he is so hot, he almost turned ME straight. Almost.”

Esme laughs at that.

“And that last picture you sent? The family one you guys did before Christmas? Whoa! Dude is looking thick and buff as fuck! What are you feeding him?”

“His favourite meal. Remember what he told you THAT was?”

“I sure as shit do! It’s the same as mine. Atta boy. The man from down under likes to spend a lot of time down under. That’s the spirit! And speaking of my favorite Aussie, what the fuck Tyler? What kind of god awful shitty mess did you get yourself caught up in?”

“Godawful shitty mess does not even begin to accurately describe what happened, believe me.”

“I called your place because I wanted to come down and visit for a couple of weeks next month. Finally see Australia! Bring the new girl for you all the meet. Cuddle my nieces and nephews and spoil the shit out of them with presents and candy. And what do I find out? What does Fire Chief Dick for Brains tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Ry. I should have called you. I just didn’t want to burden you. I know you have a lot going on with school and placement and your social life and…”

“Fuck all of that. None of that matters. You’re my sister. That’s my brother in law. The father of my nieces and nephews. You’re my family. All that matters to me is you guys.”

“Please don’t take it personally. It’s just a huge mess and my brain is not functioning at a hundred percent right now. All I’ve been concentrating on is him. He’s my number one priority right now; helping him heal and getting him out of here and sent to a hospital back home. I didn’t purposefully leave you out.”

“Do you need me to come? Just say the word MeMe. I’ll get on the next flight.”

Esme smiles at the nickname; a little something a then four year old Riley had come up with because she couldn’t properly pronounce her new step sister’s name. “I missed that,” she says. “Hearing you call me that.”

“You’ll always be MeMe to me. Do you need me there? Do you WANT me there? Because I will put everything aside and get to you. You know I will.”

“As much I’d love to see you and have you here, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to concentrate on school and your placement and your new love. And Tyler would want all that, too. He would not expect you to drop everything for him. He’d give you shit for it, you know he would.”

“He is such a stubborn fuck, I swear. Love the guy, but he does my head in. And this isn’t about expecting it from me; it’s about me wanting to be there for you. I want to be there for you. Let me be there for you.”

“Ry, I love you and appreciate you so much. And I miss you. Terribly. But this isn’t the place for you. You need to stay where you are and concentrate on school and just get on with things.”

“How am I supposed to do that when Tyler is messed up like his? How am I supposed to concentrate on things when you’re going through this?”

“Because that’s what we BOTH want you to do. There is no reason for you to put your life on hold to come here. Everything is so up in the air right now. There’s no timetable for his recovery; we have no idea how long it’s going to be until he can be sent home. And even then he’s going to be admitted to a hospital there. It’ll be awhile until he’s home, home.”

“This is just such bullshit,” Riley sighs heavily. “I am so sorry. MeMe. That you’re going through this. I know how much you love him. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like; seeing him so torn up. It was bad, wasn’t it. What was done to him?”

“It was pretty damn bad. He was in really rough shape when he was brought in.”

“How rough?”

“The roughest. Worse than seven years ago. Way worse. He told me that he didn’t want to die, but he was expecting it.”

“Jesus…” Riley breathes. “...for a guy like Tyler to come right out and admit that…”

“It was horrible; seeing him like that. I will never forget that as long as I live. I thought what I saw on the bridge...had to do on the bridge...was awful. But seeing him? After the surgeries and all the wounds so new and fresh? I can’t even begin to describe it. How it made me feel.”

“I am so sorry, I am so goddamn sorry.”

“I mean, that’s the love of my life. The father of my kids. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And to see him like that…like this…” she takes a deep, shaky breath and releases it slowly. “...it hurts. So much. That’s my whole heart, Riley. HE’S my whole heart.”

“I’m going to come there. To Dhaka. I don’t want you going through this alone. I don’t…”

“I’m fine,” Esme assures her. “I really am. I’m not alone either; a lot of friends are here to help out and watch over me. And now I’ve got this little muffin…” she lifts the edge of the blanket and glances down at Addie; those huge brown eyes staring up at her, then crinkling when the infant smiles. “...it’s better now that she’s here. Or at least that one of them is here.”

“Do you want me to go to Australia? I can stay at your place, help with the kids. As much as I hate Fire Chief Dick for Brains, I’ll put up with him. Just for you.”

“The kids are fine, I promise. I just miss them. A lot. Once he’s transferred home, it’ll be a whole new ballgame.”

“Any remote idea on what that’s going to be?”

“Two weeks. Three at the most.”

“Shit…” Riley shakes her head. “...oh Tyler, what the hell bruh…”

“It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. There could have been five kids with no daddy.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. How is he now? How is he doing?”

“He’s being weaned off of sedation. He has wakeful moments; periods where he’s pretty lucid. His memory is shit; he asks the same questions at least six times an hour. That’s just the meds though. They said once the sedation is totally out of him, his brain will go back to normal.”

“Whatever normal is for Tyler,” Riley chides.

“He’s able to stay up for quite a while. He can carry on a conversation, but he gets confused really easily. And then he gets frustrated and embarrassed and he starts shutting down. And his emotions are all over the place; joking and somewhat happy one minute, a weepy mess the next.”

“How’s the PTSD been?”

“Now that he’s more coherent? It’s been a mess. When he wakes up he’s very disoriented and if he’s alone or there’s people in the room he doesn’t know…”

“Freaks out?”

“He loses it. His fight or flight kicks in. And you know Tyler…”

“Always picks fight.”

Esme nods. “And he doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying when he’s like that and he’s freaking out because he thinks I’m dead and no one can convince him otherwise. A PSW came in; while I was out. Woke him. To wash his hair and trim his beard.”

“Oh no…”

“He fucking lost it, Ry. Which I knew would happen and is why I told them NOT to send someone in. He just went off. It took four people to hold him down, and that was AFTER they gave him sedation. You would have thought nothing was wrong with him; that’s how hard he fought. This is a man who can’t even walk right now. And he still scared the shit out of the PSW. Threatened to break his neck with his bare hands and told him how he’s done it before. Many times. Then told him he’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass.”

“So what’s the difference in him after all this? That sounds like Tyler on a good day.”

Esme can’t help but laugh. “I think he made the PSW piss his pants.”

“Serves him right if he can’t follow instructions. Is it in his chart? That no one is supposed to come in?”

Esme nods.

“Well fuck him then. Read the patient’s chart. It’s not that hard. Is it wrong that I’d give my right arm to see him rip someone’s head off and shove it up their ass? I bet he could do it too. I bet he’s done shit that defies logic.”

“Well he did once kill two people with a garden rake.”

“How fitting. A Rake, using a rake. Perfection. What’s his injuries like? Kyle says they’re pretty gnarly.”

“Why do you sound so pleased at the thought?”

“I’m in nursing school. This shit excites me. I can’t help it.”

“Gunshot wound to the back, lots of stitches, a torn MCL and ACL, open fracture of the right femur…”

“Do you have pictures of it?”

“Of what?”

“His femur.”

“Hell no, I don’t. Why would I want pictures of that?”

“Because that would be fucking amazing to see. Was it a true open fracture? Bone protruding and everything?”

“I guess. His friend said the bone was showing.”

“That is wild. I would have loved pictures; before AND after.”

Esme grimaces. “You’re disturbed.”

“Did they give him an ilizarov?”

“They said it would be on for a least three months. He is NOT happy.”

“Can you take pictures of that? And the gunshot wound?”

“Riley…”

“For scientific reasons, I swear. I just want to see them. I could even show my one prof and Tyler could be a case study.”

“I’d rather my husband NOT be one, thank you. He’s not your show and tell project.”

“Just go and take a couple pictures. Please? Pretty please? With whipped cream and sprinkles and a cherry on top?”

“He’s sleeping. I am not going in there and waking him up because you're a freak.”

“Best time to do it; when he’s sleeping.”

“I would never do that to him. There’s this thing called consent. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it…”

“When he wakes up, ask him if you can take pictures. If you tell them they’re for Red, he’ll be good with it. I know he will. He loves me.”

“He does, actually.”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. I’ll come down; once he’s in a hospital there. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“I talked to Mildred by the way…”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Millie is NOT short for Mildred.”

“Actually, it is.”

“Her name is not Mildred, though.”

“She LOVES when I call her that. Loves it. Anyway, how grown up is she sounding all of a sudden? It’s like she’s six going on sixteen! What is up with that kid?”

“She’s her father. What more do I have to say?”

“She even sounds like him! The way she says certain words and little sayings she has. I couldn’t believe it; it was like talking to a mini, girl version of him. Freaky! She’s pretty pissed, huh? At you?”

Esme sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“I told her to smarten up. That she’s got a great mom and she needs to appreciate it AND you. I told her to get her shit together and respect you. That if her dad finds out what she’s up to, it won’t be pretty. I said that he’ll stick up for her mom no matter WHO is disrespecting her. I think that scared her.”

“There’s nothing she hates more than the thought of her daddy being mad at her. That’s her WORST fear, I swear.”

“Well she needs to cut the attitude. I don’t tolerate that shit. I don’t think I’m the favorite Aunt anymore, by the way.”

“You’re her only Aunt.”

“I guess I’m excommunicated then. And speaking of being an aunt, let me see my little poop face.”

Esme removes the blanket covering Addie, then holds her onto the arms and places her in line with the camera.

“Oh my God…” Riley gives an excited squeal. “...look at Auntie Ry Ry’s little poop face! You’re getting so big!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Esme laughs. “She just got into the newborn clothes. She’ll be four months.”

“She’s still grown a lot since the last time I saw her. Look at you, Addie! Look how beautiful you are. Look at how much you look like your mommy! You’re the lucky one, huh? Getting your momma’s looks? She’s smiling, MeMe. That smile is everything! She has Tyler’s smile.”

“It’s the one thing they all inherited. And she also got his appetite. I really need to get back to feeding her and I know it’s not the most pleasant thing to see while trying to have a conversation.”

“I don’t know, MeMe. I’ve had to look at worse things. You’ve got really nice boobs, actually. Tell him I said he’s lucky.”

“You’re too much. But I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“As soon as you guys get home, I’ll be on my way,” Riley promises. “And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. Right away, hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Chin up, okay? He’s got this. He’s a tough shit. He’ll be alright.”

“I know he will,” Esme says confidently, then blows her step sister a kiss in farewell before killing the video feed.

****

She pokes her head into the room when she returns, smiling when she finds him awake and sitting up in bed; the angle of the mattress slowly increasing with each hour, giving his back used to being in different positions and not allowing the muscles to settle and stiffen.

“Hey,” she greets. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting you. Just taking me forever; hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m here, you might as well just tell me what you want to say.”

“I’m gonna send it anyway…” a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “...I’m almost done. Be patient.”

“That’s more your thing; being patient.”

“You’ve been plenty patient the last couple of days. There...all done...sent.”

Her phone vibrates within the pocket of her hoodie, and she pulls it out to check the message; smiling at the simple -yet honest and heartfelt- words. “You’re cute,” she gushes. “I’m going to send you one back.” She steps out into the hall; composing her own text. Just a short and sweet: I love you too. Accompanied by a selfie of her puckering her lips for a kiss. “Well…” she pokes her head back into the room. “...did you get it?”

“Yep.” A broad smile spreads across his face. “Want me to send something back? A dick pic?”

“Not when there’s a tube in it, I don’t. I do have a separate file for them though; where I put all the dick pics you send me when you’re away from home.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You’re the one who sends them! Where’s Andy?”

“He went downstairs to get something to eat. I told him I’d be fine by myself.”

“Pretty awesome, huh? That he can all this way to see you?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s a good guy; I’m glad I sucked it up and talked to him that day at the school. Why are you poking your head in like that? Why don’t you just come in?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Are you naked?”

“You wish.”

“Is it a blowjob?”

Esme frowns. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot. I probably couldn’t get it up anyway. Not with a tube sticking out of it and all the meds I’m on. What’s the surprise? Want me to close my eyes? Will it make it better?”

“This is going to be an awesome surprise no matter what. But go ahead.”

“You ARE naked, aren’t you. Baby, as much I appreciate your willingness and your effort to make me feel better at all costs, that part of me is not gonna work right now.”

“I am definitely NOT naked. It’s going to be a while before you get to see me with no clothes on. You are nowhere close to being ready for that.”

“You’re underestimating me.”

“That’s one thing I never do, trust me. You want the surprise or not? I promise you, this is an amazing one.”

“Even better than when the kids make me breakfast in bed and cupcakes for my birthday?”

“Even better,” she says, and then waits for him to close his eyes; carrying Addie into the room. “Don’t open them until I tell you to. I brought you a little visitor.”

“One of those hospital therapy dogs? Like a corgi or some shit?”

“Way better and way cuter.”

“I don’t know, wife. Those are pretty damn cute.”

“Trust me, this is much better and will cheer you up a hundred times more than any dog ever could.” She stands on the right side of the bed; easier to transfer Addie onto his good arm. And she removes the receiving blanket draped over her daughter as she leans over the railing; a smile already curving the baby’s lips and her tiny hands reaching for her father. “No sudden movements, alright? You don’t want to accidentally hurt the surprise. Open your eyes.”

He does as he’s told. A brief moment of confusion etched on his face as he looks down at the baby in his wife’s arms, then up at her. “Are you serious?”

“Andy brought her. She’s been missing you just as much as you’ve been missing her. Look at her; she’s already smiling at you. She’s so happy to see you. There’s no one she loves the way she loves her daddy. Wait until you see her little outfit.”

“I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow. That Ovi was bringing her.” His eyes narrow. “How long was I asleep??”

“There was a change of plans; a little something Andy and Ovi came up with together. Here…” she gently lays Addie along his left forearm; settling the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow. “...look at her little shirt? Isn’t it perfect? Daddy’s little peanut. Andy made it for her.”

“It is perfect. SHE’S perfect.”

“Look at her looking at you...look at that smile..all she sees is her daddy. Not what happened to him. Feels good, right? To have her here? To have her in your arms like this?”

“Yeah…” emotion chokes at him, and he leans down to press a kiss to Addie’s forehead, lightly chuckling when those tiny hands grab at his hair and his nose. “...feels amazing, actually.”

Esme leans into him, draping an arm across his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. She definitely missed you.”

“I missed her,” he says, and kisses the tip of Addie’s nose. “Daddy missed you so much, baby girl. So much.” The tears come now; a mixture of relief and happiness combined with the anger and frustration at being laid up and unable to perform even the simplest tasks for himself.

“Hey…” Esme places a kiss to his temple and rubs and squeezes his shoulder. “...it’s okay. All uphill from here, remember? You’re doing amazing; don’t doubt that. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I didn’t think I’d get this chance again; to see her, hold her. I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t.”

“Well you’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake. If there’s anyone on this earth that can survive THAT and do this well, it’s you. I know how much you love proving people wrong. And you’re doing that. I also know how much you want to get out of Dhaka. I know that’s your main driving force for trying as hard as you are.”

“I just want to go home. Even if it is to a hospital there. I just want to be home.”

“Soon,” she promises. “And if you keep doing as well as you are, it will be even sooner than any of us thought. I don’t want you to hurt yourself though, okay? I know sometimes you try to do to much, too soon. And I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want you busting your ass to the point it sets you back. I know you don’t want that either.”

“I just want to feel my legs. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t. It freaks me out. I wake up and I forget it’s only temporary and I fucking lose it. You know that’s one of the worst things possible in my eyes; not being able to do things, not being able to have the life I had.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that. In a couple days, you’ll get the feeling back. This too shall pass. It won’t be a while until you’re back to being the old you, but you WILL get there. I promise. And you can’t tell me this won’t help. Having Addie here. That it won’t lift your spirits a bit.”

“She already has. She’s lifted them a lot, actually. I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again. See you, see her.”

“Well, you DID get to do it. We’re here. We’re BOTH here.” She moves her hand to the nape of his neck, massaging gently. “Are you okay with her? She seems pretty happy where she is; I don’t think she’s going to want you to put her down anytime soon.”

“I’m good. I’m not giving her up. They’d have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands. She’s getting bigger, huh?”

“I thought the same thing when I first saw her. Feels like we’ve been away from her for a lot longer than we have. She’s still super tiny though.”

“She is. Just a wee little thing. Like her momma,” he presses another kiss to Addie’s brow. “Beautiful like your momma too.”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, daddy is extremely biased when it comes to mommy,” Esme addresses the infant. “He always has been.”

“It’s not being biased when it’s the truth. It still feels weird; how light she is. Even Tanner with all his issues was never this small. She’s definitely all you. Now I’ll have two people small enough to pick up and put in my pocket.”

She combs her fingers through his hair and pecks his cheek. “You sure have your cute moments.”

“You seem to bring that side of me out.”

“Well it’s a very nice side. But I like all your sides, so…”

Smiling, he tips his head up towards her, and she leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“I know you didn’t agree with it,” she says, when he turns his attention back to Addie. “Her coming here.”

She notices the wince that briefly takes hold of his face; the simple action of using his right hand to tug the baby’s socks back up causing pain in the injured shoulder.

“I was just worried. About her being here if things went to shit again. I know we think they’re all gone; Asif’s people. But I didn’t want to take that chance. Especially with her.”

“There hasn’t been any movement. Not even a whisper of trouble. And you know Anil; he’s got all kinds of ears to the ground. I think it’s really over this time. I think we’re finally going to be able to put this place behind us. It’s time; to leave Dhaka behind.”

“I definitely don’t plan on coming back for a visit, that’s for sure. So if you have Dhaka on that ‘places like you’d like to vacation’ list, you can go ahead and erase it right now.”

“I have had enough of Dhaka to last me a lifetime, believe me. You know, you have this real habit of choosing extremely dramatic and painful ways to get out of taking me anywhere.”

Tyler grins. “Neither of the times I bailed on you were intentional, I swear.”

“I think we should stop planning ahead when it comes to going away. It’s like we jinx it somehow; talking about it too soon. How about next time, we just decide on the spur of the moment to go somewhere? That way we shock the universe with our spontaneity and it doesn’t have time to recover until we’re BACK from our trip.”

“Sounds good to me. And we’re going to need one; a trip. When all this is over. I know it’s going to be a while, but we are definitely going to need a vacation.”

“Well tell your pocketbook to expect Bora Bora or The Maldives. I’m getting my suite on the water.”

“I will get you whatever you want, baby. Whatever your little heart desires. You just tell me what it is and I’ll do it. I’ll get it for you.”

“You healthy and back on your feet. That’s all I want.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I know you are,” she kisses his temple. “And you’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you, Tyler. So fucking proud of you.”

“You’re going to make me cry. Again.”

“I can’t help that you’re so beautiful when you cry. And it would be happy tears, right?”

“Very happy tears.” He lays his palm on Addie’s stomach, all of her fingers wrapping around one of his. “She’s tiny, but she’s strong. Has a hell of a grip.”

“She’s like her daddy. Tough as nails.”

“I don’t know,” he smiles up at her. “I think her momma has me beat in the toughness department.”

“I think…” she places a kiss to his brow, then the bridge of his nose. “...you totally underestimate yourself. He does, doesn’t he, Addie? Underestimate himself. Tell daddy he’s tough as hell and the strongest, bravest person you know. Tell him how the sun shines out of his ass and he poops glitter and pisses rainbows. That’s how you look at him, might as well tell him too. Because his ego isn’t quite big enough, yet.”

He smirks. “My ego took a hell of a beating.”

“Well tell your ego to shut the fuck up,” she affectionately tousles his hair. “There was nothing you could have done, Tyler. You didn’t know this going to happen; that things were going to go this bad. There was nothing to suggest that he who shall not be mentioned was capable of something like that.”

“We both knew he was sketchy as fuck.”

“Being sketchy and being psychotic are two totally different things. You did everything right; you got Neysa and Aarev out, you went back to get him out. There’s no way you could have known what he was going to do.”

“Should have listened to Koen and left his ass there.”

“Koen said that?”

He nods.

“You remember that? Him saying that?”

“I can remember things that happened BEFORE it all went down. Things that I said, that other people said. I can remember getting Neysa and Aarev out and going back in to get N...him. But after that, it’s pretty muddled.”

“But you do remember things?”

“I THINK I’m remembering them. I THINK it’s things that happened. I’m not sure though; if they’re real or my brain is just making shit up. I DO remember...vividly...him shooting me in the back. Everything else? I don’t know what’s real and what I’m imagining. And honestly, babe? I don’t think I want to remember.”

“But you might. And that could get pretty scary for you; things coming back to you.”

“I know.”

“Once we’re home, we’ll get you some help okay? Some therapy. For the mental stuff.”

“Alright.”

“I know you hate that side; seeing therapists and talking to strangers and having to take meds. But you know what I hate? Seeing your brain torturing you like it does. I hate that you have to go to war every damn day with your own mind. I just want you to be okay. You know that, right?”

“I do know that. I’ve never doubted that. Not once in the last seven years.”

“Even the toughest need help, sometimes. And I’ll get you that help. I promise. I’ve got you. Always. You’re my ride or die, remember?”

“Yeah…” he chuckles. “...you’re mine too.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him. “Inside AND out. You’re already on your way. And I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, right beside you, every step of the way.”

“What about after? When I AM better? You still going to stick around? The whole pain meds thing?”

“We talked about that. You know where I stand; about you needing to deal with that. That’s a deal breaker, Tyler. Because I can’t live like that. And I won’t let our kids live like that either. I love you. More than you could possibly ever comprehend. But that? I can’t do THAT.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to. I don’t want to lose you. Or my kids. Whatever I need to do...whatever YOU need me to do...I’ll do it. No hesitations. Whatever it is.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Let’s concentrate on what we’re going through right now. One thing at a time. I don’t want you to worry about anything else, alright?”

He nods. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

“I love you,” she says, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips. “We’re going to get through this. Our track record for getting through tough shit is at one hundred percent. I want to keep it that way.”

“Yeah…” he closes his eyes as she rests her forehead against his. “...so do I.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic

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