#yes but if they reacted otherwise it wouldn't be an interesting fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chefdoeuvre · 3 years

Text

Aftermath

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader

Description: People always tend to forget about the aftermath.

Words: 2,122

Requested: yes by anonymous; second, if it's ok i wanted to request a part two to the imagine? i was wondering if you could just explore the aftermath of her assault, as she continues to heal and accept what's happened to her. by this i mean experiencing ptsd and having nightmares, flashbacks and dealing with certain triggers. also, maybe she could still sometimes turn to substances as many survivors do, and just break down sometimes. obviously since it's a halstead sister fic and i love the support system in the last story, i'd love to see jay helping her through everything and being super protective + some scenes with the rest of intelligence? but it's obviously up to you. thank you so much <3

Warnings: mention of drinking, sexual assault, drugs, language, PTSD, Jay Halstead and all of Intelligence being the best.

A/N: This is the long awaited part two to Infliction, and by long-awaited I mean like a month later. I tried to make the end light hearted because it seemed like a good way to go. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

It had been a few weeks since the party and things were beginning to look up. You and Brayden started hanging out more and it was safe to say the two of you were on your way to becoming best friends. The group of guys had all been arrested and sent far away from you. You, Jay, and Will have been having more frequent family movie nights instead of them heading out to Molly's every free night they got. Intelligence had basically adopted you as one of their own and even went out of their way to hang out with you. Kim and Hailey had girls nights away from the ever-annoying guys they work with. Adam and Kevin practically chauffeured you to hangouts with Brayden and took you out to your favorite diner on the weekends. Even Hank had called you once in a while as a check-in and to keep you informed about your case. Overall things seemed to be getting better for you.

Except for one little detail. Your PTSD was hitting you like a truck. Of course, the only person who even remotely knew what was happening was Brayden because he was the one person you spent most of your time with. Thankfully he was there to help ground you and calm you down when it all became too much for you. This wasn't sudden, it's been building up since it happened and clearly you needed to work on accepting it rather than shoving it all down. That's one thing you and Jay had in common, the two of you always had trouble addressing your problems no matter how big they became.

Currently, you were laying in bed and staring up at your ceiling that Jay had covered in stars for you. If there was one thing about you is that you still are a child at heart. You had been shocked awake by your recurring nightmare. It always followed the same premise of the night of the party but every night there were either different people, points of view, or different actions you took that still led you to the same outcome. There were dried tears staining your cheeks that you hadn't bothered to wipe away and every few moments there would be a soft sniffle to break the eerie silence.

Having enough of staring up at your ceiling you let out a low huff and pushed yourself up to a sitting position. You turned to the side and looked at the clock resting on your nightstand. The clock read 4:19 AM which was clearly too early for you to be up but too late for you to try and go back to sleep before Jay's rustling while getting ready would wake you up. Reaching over to open the drawer in your nightstand you checked the small bottle hidden under the glasses case that held your blue light ones. It was three-quarters full of vodka you had inconspicuously stolen from Jay's cabinet. You kept promising yourself that you wouldn't drink anymore, but clearly, that wasn't really panning out in your favor. Sure you would have a swig or two before braving yourself and heading off to school but it was to take the edge off, not to get drunk.

If Jay were to check through your drawer he'd probably think otherwise. You had stopped with the pills since he had found you, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him so you continued to drink. Obviously, it wasn't a lot and definitely not enough to get you drunk off your ass. You just wanted to be buzzed enough to have the courage to walk into your dreaded school every morning and deal with the numerous triggers you kept on discovering.

Eventually, it was time for you actually start getting ready for school. Jay had already left for work a while ago, leaving a kiss on your head before stepping out the door. You pulled on a random outfit that was comfortable and your usual pair of shoes before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and walked downstairs. Deciding against your worst judgment you made the choice to brave the day without the buzz of alcohol. Waiting at the front entrance of your building was Brayden. Like every morning the two of you would walk to school together if Jay had to go into the district early. If Jay only had paperwork that day he would drive the two of you to school instead, but that didn't happen very often.

The two of you walked to school silently, only exchanging a few words of greeting. Once you had made it to the large building you both had to split up for your classes. The day went on like usual, boring teachers droning on about upcoming assignments and tests. Lunch had arrived after what seemed like forever and you sat at an empty table practically half asleep. You held your head in your hand as you kept your eyes from slipping shut at the exhaustion.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of your classmates from English asked as he passed by.

You froze at the familiar words before shaking yourself out of the memory.

"Fine, just tired." You brushed off their comment as he nodded with an understanding smile before continuing to his table.

Moments later the door opened and you picked your head up reluctantly. It was a few guys on the football team.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of the seniors asked you.

You simply shook your head which only worsened the pain in it. The boys walked a few steps closer before placing their hands on your shoulders. They shoved you back onto the bed and immediately your body began to react.

You kicked and punched aimlessly to get them off of you but your movements were uncoordinated and your mind was foggy. There were too many of them and they began to overpower you, their hands wandering to unwanted places.

“Y/N?” Brayden’s voice pulled you out of the flashback.

“Huh?” Your teary eyes darted around his face before focusing on his concerned expression.

“Let’s head to the library, all right?” Brayden suggested already standing up from his seat across from you.

You nodded silently before hiking your bag over your shoulder and walked to the library beside him. Luckily at your school, they were lenient enough to let you head to the library during lunch. Usually, the kids didn’t take advantage of it but it was an unspoken spot of peace for you and Brayden.

The two of you sat at a table near the back and Brayden pulled a chair up beside you.

“Want to talk about what happened back at lunch?” Brayden asked softly.

You bit your lip in contemplation. This had been happening for weeks and every time you’d shake your head and change the subject. But the fact was it wasn’t getting better and you just needed to tell somebody that you weren’t okay. A few tears slipped out of your eyes which led to quiet sobs escaping from your lips. Brayden offered you a hug with outstretched arms, making sure to check if you were okay with it. You leaned forward into his embrace and squeezed his waist tightly. He held you there while rubbing soothing circles on your back until your cries stopped. You lifted your head off his chest and wiped away the remained tears on your cheeks before speaking up.

“Uh, flashbacks. I’ve been getting them for a while. I thought they’d go away, but they haven’t.” You explained with a sigh, avoiding his gaze and instead taking interest in your hands.

“Okay first, if they happen again tell me, or pull on my sleeve and I’ll get you somewhere quiet. Got it?” Brayden bent his head to try and get into your eye line.

You nodded your head with a hum before he spoke up again, “since they haven’t gone away maybe you should talk to someone. Preferably a professional, but if you’re only comfortable telling me then I’m all ears. Although, I’m not sure that I can cure you with magic, wish I could though.” Brayden tried to lighten the mood with his magic comment.

“Thanks, Brayden. Jay actually has been bugging me about seeing a therapist. Said it helped him with his PTSD, I think I might take him up on it.” You looked up at the boy with pursed lips.

“That’s good. Just know we’re not trying to force you into anything, we just want you to feel better however long that may take.” Brayden gave you a soft smile.

“You are wise beyond your years, you know that?” You smiled back with a small laugh.

“I try, I try.” Brayden shrugged nonchalantly.

“Can you come with me to the district after school?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course, not like I’d rather do my homework.” Brayden laughed.

“And there’s the Brayden I know.” You smiled widely.

Soon enough you and Brayden had been making your way to the twenty-first district to talk with Jay and probably the rest of Intelligence. The air was lighter between the two of you once you had finally started to open up. Of course, you hadn’t spilled everything but the little you had told him made the weight on your shoulders lessen slightly.

“Ah, baby Halstead and company, what brings you here?” Trudy greeted from the front desk with a tight-lipped smile. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she had a soft spot for you.

“Can you ring us upstairs? I need to talk with Jay.” You asked.

“You’re lucky they haven’t caught a case today.” Trudy walked out from behind her desk and led you and Brayden upstairs.

“Thank you, Trudy.” You smiled and followed the woman.

“I have a special delivery for Detective Chuckles.” Trudy spoke up once the three of you reached the top of the steps.

Jay’s head snapped up from his desk with a look of confusion when his eyes landed on you. He quickly stood up and scanned you over for anything.

“What happened, are you all right?” Jay cupped your cheek in concern before sparing a glance at Brayden for any sign of something bad.

“I’m okay, I just needed to talk to you.” You reassured him.

“All right. You wanna head into the kitchen?” Jay asked.

“No, we could talk at your desk. They’re all gonna find out anyway.” You gestured to the rest of the unit who was watching the two of you intently.

Jay nodded his head and led you to his desk. You reached out and held onto Brayden’s arm as you pulled him along to take a seat and sit beside you. Of course, at this, the entire unit had gathered around with concerned faces once you started to explain to them. Jay’s expression was held with soft eyes as he listened to you agree with wanting to try therapy and asking for help.

Once you were done Jay stood up and placed a kiss on the top of your head before whispering into your hair, “I’m proud of you.” Jay pulled away to give you a warm smile.

“All right come here you little muffin.” Kim held out her arms with a smile.

You stepped forward into her embrace as she squeezed you tightly, she rocked the two of you from side to side eliciting a small giggle out of you. Hailey joined the hug with a laugh once Kim pulled her by the arm.

Antonio placed a hand on your shoulder once you, Hailey, and Kim pulled away, “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He offered you a kind nod.

“So proud.” Kevin gave you one of his signature bear hugs.

“Okay, it’s my turn.” Adam squeezed his way to stand in front of you. Which caused everyone to laugh at his eagerness.

“I could never forget about you, Ruz.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he lifted your toes off the ground.

“Are we done yet? You guys are treating my sister like an attraction.” Jay sassed.

“You’re just mad that you only got to kiss me on the head and not a hug.” You retorted from leaning back into Brayden with a smirk.

“No, not true.” Jay shook his head with furrowed brows.

“Yup, totally jealous.” You nodded convinced.

“How did we go from a serious topic to Halstead and mini Halstead having a sarcasm battle?” Adam questioned with a confused expression.

“I learned to stop questioning it.” Brayden shrugged from behind you.

“It’s how we cope. Halstead thing, I guess.” You said with raised brows.

“Fair enough.” Jay sighed.

#chicago pd fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #request #one shot #one chicago #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x sister!reader #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead

334 notes · View notes

the-wee-woo-royal · 2 years

Text

Christmas Surprises

Merry Christmas, friends!!!!!!! Even if you don't celebrate the holiday, I hope today is full of happiness. I also hope I can contribute to the cheer with this little fic. Don’t worry, I'll say this now, there is no angst, I wouldn't do that to you today.

Or would I?

Jkjk… not not… maybe there’s a little. Maybe…

Quick note- I headcanon Simon had a bad drinking problem a year after The Battle of Galton (trying to forget the AoA and “be happy” ya know?) that lasted 4 years (there's been a few relapses since then and it got bad again after Supernova and lasted for no more than a year - not counting the ‘accidents’ once in a while) Just so y'all know. There's also another character in one of the parts that's said to have a problem… you'll understand why Hugh reacts the way he does…

Ok so maybe a little angst…. hehe……

In all seriousness, I am in no way making fun of anyone with an actual drinking problem. I understand it is a serious addiction. This is a work of fiction and is no way tied to anyone with it, anything otherwise is a complete coincidence.

I hope you enjoy this Humon with a little Nodian fic today.

LOVE YOU ALLLLLLL

Tagging (pple who were on my rsw one+a few others- comment or dm me if you would like to be added/removed): @obsidianfr3sk @greenalmond @galaxy-creationz @healing-winston-pratt @deprivedmusicaljunkie @unorganisedbookshelf @honey-hippie-harper @blub3rrysoda @kenmas-hair-dye @justsomerandomficsforrenegades @/other mutuals or/and fans who are interested!

Fic under cut:

Holidays in Galton were really the biggest thing. Yes, families would visit others and eat what food they had. Some families indulge a little too much and starve until the next paycheck comes though, sometimes it never does. Then those families would never be heard from again.

It wasn’t a surprise anymore.

But there were different surprises during the Christmas season.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Hugh and Simon - Age: 9

“Don’t be dumb, it would cause a lot of attention. Your Dad would never.” Simon scoffed. Not that he would love to see a tree when he came over to Hugh’s, but it wasn’t smart. A tree meant you had money, money meant you were going to get robbed.

He didn't want Hugh to get robbed. He liked his friend.

Hugh frowned, “It would look cool,” he defended and Simon rolled his eyes, “I bet you’ll look cool dead.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It would if you’d stop being dumb.”

“I'm not dumb. My mom used to say I'm very smart for my age.”

“Your dumb and I’m leaving.”

Simon took it back. He didn't like his friend very much when he was dumb.

Hugh stumbled on his words and reached out to him in an attempt to make Simon stay, “Wait- No! D-don’t leave. Pl- please.” Simon sat back down next to him. Hugh’s floor was carpeted. His house didn't have any carpet so it was a nice change. Simon stuck his tongue out and Hugh copied him.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Hugh smiled. When Hugh smiled, so did Simon, then Hugh laughed and Simon did too. The anger went away immediately as they laughed together.

______________________________________

They had migrated outside to lay on the grass. It was a little wet but neither boy cared, they were both bundled up because Hugh’s Dad said that if they went outside in the cold they would die.

Simon didn’t want to die and assumed Hugh didn't either from how fast he put on his sweater and beanie. Simon left some back up clothes for himself in Hugh’s closet but still stole a sweater. Hugh was a little bigger than him so he could curl up in it.

So outside they roughhoused for a little while before Hugh stopped them saying that he was too strong for Simon. Simon was a little hurt. He was small but not that small. Hugh said that he would tell him later.

It was later and laying on the grass when Hugh turned to him and blurted out, “I'm a prodigy.”

Simon blinked at him and didn’t say anything. Hugh sat up, playing with his hands, “I was born one. I- I can't get hurt or feel any pain. Mom said I'm industrial or something. I’m strong too. Like really really strong. It's why I did't wanna wrestle anymore, it can be hard to control when I'm not paying attention and I don't wanna hurt you.”

Simon sat up slowly to be next to him, this was surely a surprise, “Indestructible,” he whispered.

Hugh made a noise of confusion and Simon chuckled, “For someone that ‘smart for their age’, you should know that the word is indestructible… not industrial.”

Hugh rubbed his face, “I have more worries than my wording. Like making sure you don't start running screaming ‘monster’ or something…��

Simon whacked him but Hugh was unfazed. Hmm.. indestructible. Simon would definitely have fun with that later.

“Dummy, I'm one too. Surprised you haven’t caught on. I'm not exactly the best at hiding it.”

Hugh gaped at him, “A prodigy?”

The boy nodded, “Yeah, I wasn't born with it though. I only have it for like… 2 years, I think.”

Hugh smiled at the news, and that his friend wasn’t scared of him… that he was like him. Hugh has never met another prodigy but his mom but she's been dead for a long time and his dad sucked butt and was very unhelpful in this area of life.

“So what can you do?!” Hugh put all his attention on his friend who was blushing not meeting his eyes anymore, “It's not as cool as being strong and indestructible.”

Hugh scoffed, “And I’m the dummy. Being strong isn't exactly exciting. It's not like I could use it without breaking things. I'd rather fix them.”

Simon hesitated, “... I- I can be invisible,” he whispered.

Hugh’s eyes immediately widened and he basically yelled in excitement, “INVISIBLE!”

Simon launched forward to cover his friend’s loud mouth, knocking them both down.

“Shut up! I don't wanna die!” Simon whispered aggressively.

“Sorry,” Hugh whispered back, “Can you show me?”

Simon glared at him but Hugh smiled and he wasn’t angry anymore. Hugh was just a person that one couldn’t stay mad at. At least to him.

“Let's go back into your room,” Simon answered, being cautious was the key to survival nowadays.

When they went inside and took off their slightly damp clothes Simon asked Hugh, “Do you get cold.”

Hugh laughed, “Not easily, actually.”

Simon snorted, “Then why did your dad say we-you were going to die? And why did you listen?”

Hugh shrugged, “Because he’s dumb and drunk and dumb.”

“Your dumber.”

Hugh threw a shoe at him, barely missing his chest, “I guess I also didn’t want you to suspect anything before I told you. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Hugh and Simon - Age: 17

Apparently one neighborhood in the city had them for the first time in forever and Simon wanted to see them. He didn’t know when he’d ever get the chance again. The rest of the ragtag team of wanna be heroes said no to Simon when he asked each of them to come with him to see some Christmas lights. Yeah it was cold, wet, and far but… Christmas lights! Evander and Georgia said they needed to patrol somewhere and Kasumi invited herself to go with them when Simon asked. Tamaya just outright said no.

Simon didn’t even have to drag Hugh out to see some lights. He just said he wanted to go and Hugh started putting on his shoes immediately, Simon didn't even have to ask.

Now that was a real friend right there.

But Hugh was hungry. By the time they got bundled up they left right away, they forgot to eat. It took awhile for Hugh to understand that he just couldn’t go out into the cold winter in a muscle tank no matter how he protested. Yes, he didn’t get cold like a normal person but he would look like a prodigy. It's what everyone's mind went to at anything considered not normal or ordinary. Or that he was on lots and lots of drugs. Simon didn't want either and when he explained that Hugh finally gave in. Mostly because of the drugs. Hugh hated drugs with a passion and when he caught Simon smoking once, it calmed his nerves, but Hugh nearly had a heart attack and was very passive-aggressive for a couple days. Simon knew the reaction was because of his dad, may his soul rest in- nope, bullshit he can rot, so Simon never tried it again.

So here they were at some food truck that was a few blocks away from the street with the lights. They ordered food that seemed to take the least preparation and human contact. After they ordered, Hugh paid while Simon got a table. That's how it usually was because sometimes Simon got nervous and if he flickered invisible in front of the wrong person that would be very bad.

Hugh came back with the food, or a mutation of some kind that would take over their bodies the second they consumed it.

“Bon Appétite…" Hugh said with a strained smile on his face, seeing how Simon's lip curled in disgust, Hugh sighed, “We paid for it so… we have to eat it." He then gave Simon the wallet, which he put in the small bag he brought.

So they did. It tasted a little better than it looked. A little.

A few moments later Hugh decided to stop Simon's little heart.

“Do you wanna get a girlfriend, Si?” Hugh said picking at the abomination the seller tried to say was food. It was from a truck that was definitely not up to code. It's what they could afford though, so they just had to eat it. Or starve… which was tempting.

Simon coughed, but tried to play it off as swallowing wrong, “Girls are gross.”

Hugh’s reaction was weird, he almost seemed happy at Simon's lock of love interests. But then he looked down at his food, Hugh opened and closed his mouth a few times. “What- What a- about… a b-boyfriend,” he finally stuttered.

Simon bit his lip harder than he meant to, he tasted the copper but that was the least of his worries at the moment, “Are you saying that in a good way or bad?”

Hugh glanced up at him, a small smirk on his face, “Good.”

Simon matched his attempt of a smile. His stomach was churning, but the fear was gone.

Stupid street food messing with him.

He shrugged, “Then boys are gross too.”

Hugh nodded, “Yeah, you don't- we don't need girlfriends.... Or boyfriends. We can be best friends forever.”

Simon nodded, his stomach still doing flips, “Yeah… just us. Forever. I’d like that”

“I like it too.”

Stupid fucking street food.

______________________________________

So the lights were apparently just a rumor. A trap for families to get robbed when they came.

When a couple of the guys, all dressed like a pimp from a movie, pulled guns on them, Simon knew there were no lights. He got his hopes up for no reason.

Simon put his hands up slowly, keeping eye contact with Hugh, mentally telling him to do the same. Hugh may be indestructible but Simon wasn't. They needed to think this one through and not muscle their way out of them. Meaning Hugh. He would need to chill for a second.

They went to pat Hugh down but they saw the fucking bag Simon had on him.

Yeah, muscling their way out of it is what they had to do. The second one man touched Simon Hugh became the great and strong Captain Chromium everyone either loved or feared.

Simon helped a bit but Hugh whopped them like he was their mama. Maybe would have done worse if Simon had not grabbed Hugh and ran. They were outnumbered and out weaponed, it was a matter of time before their luck ran out.

They ran for many blocks, they lost count after the third.

Hugh stopped and Simon did with him.

“Yo-you think w-were far eno-enough a-away?” Simon said breathlessly, trying to even out his breath so he didn’t start having a panic attack.

Hugh answered after a moment of heavy breaths, “I sure as hell hope so.”

He then sat down, patting the ground next to him invitingly.

“That's very unsanitary, Hugh.”

“Sit the fuck down. You look like you're gonna faint.”

So Simon did, Hugh would’ve wrestled him to the ground, nevertheless. Simon didn't need that in public.

There was a few minutes of silence before Simon sighed, “I'm sorry…” Hugh put all his attention on him, “what for?”

“I should’ve known that it was a trap. Lights. In this Galton. I’m so stupid.“ Simon scoffed.

Hugh stared at him, “That's just dumb.“ Simon threw his hands up, “I KNOW!“ Hugh laughed and shook his head, “No. You thought this was your fault. I came too, willingly, to the same place. Shouldn’t have I known too“

“But-’’

“Shush. No buts.”

______________________________________

Simon being unhappy about not seeing any lights was simply not going to work. Hugh had seen some… interesting places while out on patrols so he had a place in mind to cheer him up.

“Surprise!” Hugh smiled, doing little jazz hands.

Though it was meant to cheer Simon up, it actually broke his heart for a moment.

“Hugh, you brought me to a… strip club.”

Hugh grinned, they were on a rooftop, the street was a no-no with the prostitutes and druggies that prayed on the men -and women- that passed by. Not that it was shameful, it was just these ones were determined and relentless… Hugh knew from experience.

Simon looked around again, “Multiple.” He scoffed, “This might cheer you up,” he looked at Hugh with a little betrayal, not that it was his business. He didn't own him, they had no claim to each other, Hugh was a partially a grown man with grown men… needs. It was fine.

“But this isn't my idea of fun,” he finished, feeling a little sick.

Hugh’s smile disappeared, “No! I- I’ve never gone inside! Not my idea of fun either.”

“Then why are we here? I don't feel like having my virginity taken today.”

“THE LIGHTS!” Hugh said aggressively, “I thought you’d enjoy some knockoff strip lights.”

Simon turned back to the street. All the different clubs were lit up, it was pretty in some type of way.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Hugh laughed, standing next to him, “I know they're not as pretty as the ones you were envisioning but… they’re lights.”

Simon crashed into Hugh unexpectedly, hugging him, “I love it.”

Hugh hugged him back and that's when Simon knew he couldn’t hide anymore.

“I lied when I said I didn't want love. That it was gross.”

Hugh pulled back, perplexed and a little uncomfortable, “Do you want to go inside? I don’t know if they’d let you in but-”

“Oh my god, Hugh. NO! Neither of us are going into the club.” Simon laughed and Hugh did too, though he was a little strained, “Then what did you mean? Why’d you lie?”

Simon buried his face into his friend's chest, “I meant I’m in love with someone. I just didn't want you to know.”

Hugh frowned to himself, “Why? You're my best friend so unless it was Ace Anarchy or any of the Anarchists, I'm pretty sure I would approve.”

Simon looked up at him, his eyes wide and full of… love.

Hugh of course just thought he was being cute, per usual, “You can tell me, Si.”

Simon just blinked up at Hugh and hugged him tighter.

Hugh stared back, waiting for an answer… if there ever was one.

Simon sighed, going on his toes and kissing him on the cheek.

Oh my god

“I hope my surprise is as good as yours.” Simon said, his smile mischievous.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Hugh and Simon: Age- 28

Being a Council member usually required going to bed late and waking up early. Naturally, when they had a break they loved to sleep in.

But they couldn’t.

“Papa! Dad! Come on! WAKE UP!” Adrian yelled the second their room door was opened. Hugh groaned and Simon put the blanket over his head.

There was a little pitter-patter of small feet before they felt the bed dip.

Adrian tried to pull on the blanket to reveal Simon's face but he wasn’t having it, “Papa, come on, it's Christmas!”

“10 more min- hours…” Simon groaned, Adrian had freed him but Simon grabbed him, pulling him down to cuddle. Adrian wiggled free after a few minutes and went to try and fully wake Hugh.

“Daddy, can you wake up?” Adrian asked, poking his face. Simon snorted and grumbled, “Why does he get a calm awakening.”

Adrian just ignored him and kept poking Hugh’s face until he responded, “Ok. Ok, I’m up.”

Hugh sat up, knowing that fighting Adrian was useless. The kid was relentless.

He pulled his son into his lap, “How about we let Papa sleep for just a little bit longer? We wanna have a good Christmas, right?” He false-whispered, loud enough for Simon to hear.

“I totally agree,” He mumbled back, thankful for his husband's gratitude

“But Daddy-'' Adrian started but Hugh cut him off, “If we don't let him sleep he’ll be grouchy, tired, slow, irrit- Hey!” Hugh yelped when Simon hit him with a pillow.

“Go make breakfast.”

“Hey, Adrian, let's make breakfast.”

Adrian giggled as Hugh lifted him up and over his shoulder.

“BYE PAPA!” He yelled as they left the room.

______________________________________

“Is everyone ready to go!” Simon yelled. Despite being the last one up, the other two guys were the last ones ready.

“I CAN'T FIND MY SHOES!” Adrian yelled from his room. Simon sighed and made his way toward his son. He passed the office, catching his husband looking at some papers.

Oh, hell to the no. NOT today. “If you don't exit this office by the time I come back you're gonna regret marrying me.”

Hugh set the papers down with a deep and loving, exaggerated, sigh, “Baby, I could never, ” he smiled, playing the innocent role. Simon just rolled his eyes and walked to his son’s room.

“Ok, darling, where did you put them la- They are literally right here!” Simon pointed to the shoes next to his bed.

“Oops, sorry papa.” Adrian began putting his shoes on and Simon spotted a wrapped square, about the size of a laptop, on Adrian's desk, “Adrian, what's this?”

Adrian glanced at him, then shot up, “Don't open it!” He rushed over, not caring that one of his shoes wasn’t tied yet, “You can look yet. It's not present time.” Adrian grabbed the square, tucking under his arm, and rushed both of them out.

“Come on. We're gonna be late!” Adrian said, ushering his dads to the door. Simon stopped moving, fighting against Adrian's pushes, “Oh I’m sorry. Am I taking too long?”

“YES!”

Simon moved forward unexpectedly, making Adrian jolt forward and crash into his back. Adrian stared at him, opened mouth, but there was a slight lingering smile.

______________________________________

Since Max was in his quarantine, the last two Christmases had been at Renegades headquarters. It felt wrong not being there for his son, though he was only two and probably hadn't grasped the concept of the holiday. The rest of the family completely understood and was onboard with it.

Their lead scientist and doctors have yet to find some type of solution to get Max to control his powers. Until then, Simon was content watching Hugh hold him up to the glass. Simon would hold his son sooner or later, he believed it with all his heart.

They had set up a curtain around them for privacy, since they were in the center of HQ and training mats on the floor, which is where they were sitting. There were a couple of bean-bags and pillows too. Someone, probably Evander, had put up some old Christmas lights. The presents were piled in a corner.

It was dingy but perfect.

“Can you say it again? You said it a few days ago!” Tamaya said, her voice slightly pitched to mimic a baby. Hugh was sitting against the glass bringing Max as close as comfortably possible. He had said Tamayas name, not Maya or Tam, but her whole name a few days ago when she walked past. Max just wiggled, trying to escape Hugh’s arms, his attention on getting a dropped toy a few feet away.

“Oh, give it a rest. He’ll say it when he does.” Evander laughed. Tamaya whipped around and threw a candy at him, which Adrian, who was sitting in his lap, surprisingly caught, “Oh shut it! If he wasn't in there he would have all but teleported to you.”

Evander sighed and sat back more, “It's not my fault I'm just beloved by all.”

This time the candy hit him straight in the face. Adrian grabbed it before Evander could and stuffed it into his mouth.

Simon put his attention on his husband with their child. Hugh had stolen a handful, which was a lot given the massive size of his hands, of gummies and was teasing Max with them. Hugh was holding it a little above his head and Max was trying his best to jump and get it.

It was cruel yet cute.

“Is it present time?” Adrian said when Kasumi whispered something definitely not present related in his ear. Unsurprisingly she was the first to answer, “I think it's about time!” They two passed out presents for a few minutes, Hugh came out of the quarantine to grab his and Max’s.

Everyone was opening presents and Tamaya left and came back with a pack of seasonal canned beer and hot chocolate.

It was seasonal beer. One just couldn't get it any other time, but despite all Simon erges, all it took was one begging and pained look from Hugh had him sipping on a hot chocolate moments later. They both knew too well that once he started he couldn’t stop and he couldn't ruin today. No one else knew yet so Simon could only try to ignore the pack that was within his reach, so goddamn close he could sneak one with no one knowing, until Hugh asked it to be moved far away from ‘Adrian’.

Other than that the day was going really well. Hugh was trying to get a toy out of its case for Max, but was struggling. It was hilarious. He didn't wanna rip it open in fear of breaking it so the team just watched him get red faced at the zip ties that would snap open.

“Can someone please hand me something sharp?!” Hugh laughed with an edge of embarrassment in his voice. Kasumi did her best to put on a straight face, “I think you're doing ju-,” she snorted but swallowed down a full laugh, “I think you're doing just great, Cap,” he squeaked before laughing, the rest of them following suit.

“Hey, Max, we should run away and start a new, better family!” Hugh groaned. Max just continued sitting across from him, waiting for his toy. Evander sighed, “this is getting sad now.” he sighed with a hint of a smile on his face, “here, Hugh,” he smiled, holding out a pocket knife.

Hugh looked at him from his side of the glass, flabbergasted, “you had that the whole time.”

“Yup,” Evander nodded like it was no big deal, “You need it?” Hugh growled, “I actually hate you,” and went through the door.

There was a scare when Max tried to follow his dad, or more his toy out, then turned invisible when all the adults jumped up and yelled something along the lines of “No!” and “Stay there!” they all stayed perfectly still, not trying to scare Max anymore.

There was a heartbreaking sound of sniffles that broke their hearts. Hugh reentered the quarantine, trying to look for his son.

“We're sorry, baby, come out. Come to daddy.” Hugh belts down slowly, extending his arms, waiting.

There were a few agonizing seconds before Hugh had a surprise look on his face and he wrapped his arms around something that couldn’t be seen.

Hugh kissed Max, on the head it seemed, “Are you ok, Darling?”

“Y-you a-ll sc-scary m-m-me.” Max sniffed and Hugh pulled him closer. Simon went up to the glass, “We’re sorry, Honey. So sorry.”

Hugh tickled the boy, causing a little laugh, ”Daddy!” he squealed.

“Can I see you now? I wanna see your laughing face. Not a sad invisible one.” Hugh said, not letting up on the boy.

Adrian ran up to the glass next to Simon, his mysterious gift in hand, “If you go un-invisible, you can see the present.” There was a little moment before they saw Max again. He ran, or more like waddled over to them. He clapped his hands, “Open! Open!”

Adrian sat down on the mat and everyone else followed suit, except Max who was leaning on the glass between them.

“It’s actually for you Daddy and Papa,” he said to Max, handing it over to Simon, “I wanted to save it for last because it's the best.”

“I bet it is,” Simon said, carefully removing the wrapping. He gasped when he saw it. He then held it up for Hugh to see and he smiled down at his son.

“Oh, Adrian, Honey, it's perfect.” Simon was not going to cry. Not right now. No. No tears. No matter how cute this painting was.

It was a framed painting of their family, including Evander, Tamaya, and Kasumi with her cat around a christmas tree. The boy's talent never ceases to amaze him, he seemed to get better with every doodle.

It was really good, like good enough to sell. NOT that anyone would ever, but it was that good. Everyone could tell he put a lot of time and effort into it and that was a gift in itself.

“And look,” Adrian said pointing to the top of the tree, “Mommy’s the angle on top of the tree.”

It was crying time now.

Simon used one arm to pull his son into a hug and the other to wipe his tears, “We are going to hang this up the second we get home.”

Adrian looked up at him, “Can we hang it here? So everyone knows that we are a big family? We can hang it right there, Papa,” he pointed to a spot on the wall of Max’s quarantine that would allow anyone who walked by to see it. “I think that's a great idea, Honey.”

They gave the picture to Hugh who hung it up in a matter of minutes.

Adrian cuddled next to Simon again, “Did I surprise you, Papa?”

“Yes, you did. In the best way.

“Good! I know you love surprises!”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Hugh and Simon: Age- 37

Adrian sucked on his teeth, not knowing how to start this conversation. Yes, his Dads and Nova made their peace and were civil but allowing someone to work in the same building and spending a holiday dinner together was very different.

But Adrian knew Nova would be alone. Everyone she used to be with was either dead or incarcerated for the time being. It was sad. Nova said that she was fine, that holidays haven’t been a big thing to her since her parents died. That was even sadder.

He convinced Nova to at least have a holiday dinner with him and his family… if his dads allowed. That was actually Nova’s ultimatum. She had to get a nice personal invite. From one of his dads.

So that meant actually asking and not just telling her they said yes and surprising everyone when he told them she was coming.

He was going to ask Simon first, but he was nursing his fourth cup of wine today. Simon had only been up an hour, he had slept in late from the hangover from yesterday. Adrian could tell from his slurred good afternoon that he obviously was not fully recovered but was pumping more into his system. It scared him but he learned not to ask questions. He knew Pops would get better, he had before. At least he hoped he knew that.

So it was up to Hugh.

All on Dad.

Yay.

Adrian shamefully lingered outside the home office waiting to hear his Dad’s voice get off the phone. When that did happen he knocked fast so he wouldn’t chicken out.

“Come in,” Hugh's deep voice called and Adrian eased up a bit. This was his dad. It’s not like Hugh would do anything bad.

Adrian peaked his head in before stepping fully into the room.

Hugh looked up at him, “What’s up kid.”

“Ok two things…” Adrian took in a deep breath, “Can.. um..”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him.

He let the break go, spewing everything out, “CanNovaspendChristmasdinnerwithusbecuaseshehasnowhereelsetogo?”

Hugh blinked at him, “I only heard Nova and Christmas dinner, kid. I'm guessing you asked if she could celebrate it with us?”

Adrian nodded slowly, “Yeah… she's got no one.”

Hugh frowned, guilt taking over his facial features. “Ahh. Then... of course.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Hugh smiled, making Adrian relax.

Adrian smiled, but it vanished with a tainted thought, “It's not a pity thing, right? You actually want her here?” Adrian knew that if Nova sensed she was here out of pity she would leave without another word.

Hugh sighed, “No. I would never. If you two are going to rebuild your relationship… then Simon and I should also get more comfortable with her too.”

Adrian smiled again, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, kiddo. You said there were two things? What was the second?”

Adrian opened his mouth but stopped himself. He wanted to tell Hugh that Simon had found the wine and beer Hugh had cleared out of their alcohol cabinet and hid in the garage until he could find time to donate it someplace where someone wouldn’t abuse it. But Simon found it and was currently passed out on the couch.

Hugh’s smile waiver and Adrian didn’t want it either. Not right now.

“Um… I forgot.” He said before leaving his Dad to his work.

Adrian could donate the rest of the alcohol himself right now, actually.

______________________________________

Few days later

Hugh had made Simon go to bed directly after dinner. Hugh saw how he swayed in his seat and ate really slowly at dinner. Hugh had gone through this before, it was futile for Simon to even think Hugh wouldn’t notice.

Simon will be sober tomorrow. Hugh would make damn sure of it.

He giggled uncontrollably when Hugh took off his clothes, Simon opened his legs and parted his lips, waiting for him. Usually Hugh wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever Simon wanted in this position. But Simon didn’t know what he wanted right now… not fully and Hugh respected his husband.

Hugh helped Simon into his pajamas and then into bed.

He sighed and went to walk out the room. He made it to the base of their bed before Simon noticed he was leaving, “wait!” Simon's voice cracked, he tried to sit up but gave up quickly, “you're not going to cuddle?”

Hugh sighed, “Not while you're like this. I'll be back when you're asleep.”

Simon looked like he wanted to say something else but just cuddled up with the blankets.

And Hugh left.

______________________________________

Next Morning

“You're not going to drink at all today. You hear me?” Hugh said from his side of the counter. Simon was slightly hungover but it was manageable, “Loud and clear,” he said, putting a finger to his temple.

Simon eyed his coffee with distaste, “Didn’t you get rid of anything that would make me feel good anyway? How can I drink what's not there?” Simon ended with a slight laugh. Hugh sighed even deeper, “I know you have your stashes, wherever they are. Just… don’t”

“I don't have a stash.”

Hugh stared into Simon's eyes. Simon saw the anger and pain filling his husband’s, “I'm not going to get into this right now because I don't wanna ruin the day, but don’t you dare lie to me,” Hugh said in a low tone, aggressively, “Not now, not ever.”

It was almost worse than actual yelling.

Simon looked back down at his coffee, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I’m trying.”

Hugh said nothing and Simon looked back at him, “I really am.”

Hugh nodded, “I've seen you try harder. Way, way, harder.”

They both sighed and Hugh made his way to the other side of the counter, giving his husband a lingering kiss on the forehead, “I love you… I’m gonna wake the kids now.”

Simon blew on his coffee. He will be good today. He just had too.

______________________________________

Later that day

Nova at the Everhart-Westwood mansion arrived 5 minutes before she actually had to and debated sitting out in the snow. Honey had always told her to be a little late. That it was ‘fashionable’.

But the bus there was faster than she planned for and she forgot that the security thing scanned her.

So here she was.

Nova hadn’t mentally prepared herself for this yet.

Not that it was too hard. Just awkward.

Even more awkward since Nova presented the bottle of wine to she brought as a peace offering. She looked up what the best gift was for adults and wine was number one.

Apparently it wasn't?

Max was the one to meet her at the door and took it instantly. He said hello before running off with it.

Adrian presented himself next and Nova smiled at him, “I think your brother has gone off to get drunk?”

Adrian cocked his head, “What?”

“I- uh, brought some wine for your Dads but he just… dipped?”

Adrian chuckled humorlessly, “oh yeah… I don't wanna lie… so he’s probably dumping it out.”

Nova blinked, “Why?” She said slowly.

“There's a bit of a problem in our house right now. We don't want to… encourage it.”

Nova covered her mouth, “Oh shit? I'm so sorry,” she bit her lip, “Simon?” Adrian nodded, “How'd you know?” She clicked her tongue, “Honey… um… talked about… karma and irony… a while back. I didn't pay much attention but did get enough to hear that he had some sort of problem…”

Adrian helped Nova remove her jacket. She could’ve easily don't it herself but didn't mind the help, “Karma and irony? I get the karma part, looking at it through the eyes of a villain… but irony?” Adrian questioned.

“Yeah, it was ironic because she said that he and the rest of the council would get on her for being drunk during the Age of Anarchy years and a little after the battle. After that we just couldn’t afford it so she was forced to stop. Then the tabloids got news of it and… I heard it was a big thing.”

Adrian sighed, “It was really bad. He had to go away for a few months to this… institute. It worked, though. But Hugh is… he ignored it too long last time and is acting faster and better this time.” Adrian smiled, “He is hell bent on making sure Simon doesn't get the bad again…”

Nova sighed, “Aww,” Adrian gave her a puzzling look, “it's romantic in a sort-of sad way,” she defended.

“I guess it is.”

______________________________________

Dinner was fun. One of the funnest in a while. The awkwardness disappeared with Max’s help. The kid is like a happiness ray. Constantly making things better with just a few words.

The kids were currently playing some video games. Hugh tried it out but he’d never really been good at those things and lost pretty badly.

He went out into the backyard to get some air. It was so cold he could see his breath but it's not like it fazed him.

It fazed Simon though, “Holy- Ah!”

Hugh turned with a smile on his face to the love of his life.

“I was gonna make this a nice moment. You know, but damn. It's cold.” Simon groaned from inside. Hugh laughed, “Winter tends to do that, Love.”

Simon rolled his eyes, “Stay here,” he pointed and Hugh raised his hands in surrender, “staying.”

Simon ran off into the house and Hugh’s eyes followed as long as they could.

He loved it when Simon was like this.

Happy. Funny. Adorably stupid.

Sober.

Roughly five minutes later he heard Simon open the door from behind him. Simon sat directly on Hugh’s lap, who had moved to sit at the lounge table, never mind it was covered with snow. Then placed a cardboard box at their feet. Hugh looked at the box then back at Simon, who just stared back at him, “well, are you going to tell me what's in the box?”

Simon nodded, “I'm about to do something I'll probably regret later when I'm feeling down but… it’s what's best. For me, our family. For us.”

Hugh had a slightly concerned look on his face but stayed silent, letting Simon speak, “Our second guest bedroom. No one ever goes in there. And certainly not in the walk in closet where my, what I stupidly thought was secret, box of booze was.” Simon gestured to the box on the ground and Hugh wanted nothing more than to crush it and it’s contents, but Simon continued, “It was the perfect place to hide while… I didn't want you to see because I know just seeing me drink hurts you more than me being unresponsive. I know why, ‘cuz of you-know-who… so I hide but then I'm alone and I spiral and-” Simon paused , closing his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming, “I almost ruined us last time. I fought every ounce of help anyone tried to give me because I was convinced that I was ok. Not the best but I didn't see what you guys saw. I was coping very… very badly an- and I'm doing it again.”

Hugh kissed away a few tears that trailed down his husband's face, “I promise you I will not let it get bad again. It's only been a few months. You’re not gonna end up like him. I can-”

“It's not all on you though,” Simon interrupted, “I don't wanna just be sober just for a holiday. Last time I only got better because I chose too. I need to choose the right path too, I can't rely on you every time. That's part of what nearly broke us. I need to do it. I know you'll help, I couldn't do it all without you, but I need to do some by myself.”

Hugh nodded along, “That- I can do that. I’ll let you… do you. With some slight hovering. And you're doing so well today. You could've gone to your hideout but you didn’t. You could have kept it a secret but you didn't. But… Why did you bring the box down?”

“I wanna make fairy lights in a bottle type thing. With fake flowers and leaves They are so pretty and I've always wanted to do my own.”

“I’m not following, Darling…”

Simon got up and opened the box, plucking a bottle from the many in there, “Well, they need to be empty right.”

“Still not following,” Hugh snapped, getting a little mad seeing the dreadful bottle in his husband’s hand.

Simon pulled a corkscrew from the box and walked a few steps away, opening it. He then tipped it and it spilled over the grass, painting the snow red.

He walked back over and set the empty glass in Hugh’s hands, “I know that I'll undoubtedly get more. I'm not gonna get better in a single day… but a day is still a day. Because that day will lead to another day soon. And another and so on. I'm willing to keep taking those days. For Adrian and Max. They shouldn't grow up scared and worried for me like you did to your dad.” Simon picked up another one, using the table to open it, “You shouldn't have to see him when you look at me. You don't deserve that.”

He raised the bottle in a ‘cheers’ motion, “Here's to day by day, my love,” he smiled and tipped it over.

That's how it went for a while. Simon would grab a bottle or two, open it and dump it out. Then walk back, hand it to Hugh, who would set it on the table beside him… and the cycle would repeat.

They didn't say anything more. They were done for the night.

It didn’t matter how much time it took.

All that mattered at the moment was Simon healing.

And he looked beautiful doing it.

The lights that covered the house reflected off him like he was some angle. Far from it but in Hugh’s eyes, it was he was. When Simon would hand him another empty bottle he would smile. He was so proud of himself and Hugh was too.

He deserved to be. Tonight he was doing what some would say near impossible.

For him, Simon was doing the impossible.

So yeah, it took a while, who cares. Simon did it.

When Simon reached down to not find any bottles left he started crying. Not exactly in happy or sad tears. Just tears.

He did it all by himself, but with Hugh right there.

He did it.

Simon took his place on his husband's lap again. He evened out his breathing before looking up at Hugh, who whipped away his tears with his thumb, “Love, soon.. At least I hope I'm going to surprise you by waking up level headed, by my own accord, and giving you a big fat kisses all over your face,” he sniffled, “I’m gonna get better and I'm gonna do that.”

“Simon, my heart… My love, that will be one of the greatest surprises in a long time.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh.

Well i hope i brought something to the table today.

27 notes · View notes

syuga-s · 3 years

Text

The Last Time

w.c 4.3k

pairing. Jooheon x gn!reader

genre. angst, a little fluff maybe, idk how to classify it but it's my take on relationships in real life(?)

a/n. (warnings) I throw some curses here and there, mention of the word "sex" once, tried to make it as gender-neutral as possible, I could really use some help about t/w, feedback is more than welcome, hope you like the fic 🧍‍♀️

Once again you were at the same bar. With the same friends. Same music. Same drinks. It's safe to say that nothing's changed in here but you.

For some reason, you were awfully quiet tonight. Everyone was away from the table by now. All of them talking and dancing in groups.

You were regretting saying yes to going out the very moment Jasmine was at your front door. But your best friend really wanted to get you out of your house.

The thing is you weren’t going to be alone, all of your friends were tagging along. I guess I need to suck it up, maybe I could have fun, despite him.

And you really tried, there was no need to make a scene anymore. All of your friends have had their fair share of nights seeing you 'talk' with him and making things awkward for everyone. It's been a while, though. You haven't seen him in exactly 2 years.

How do I explain this? There's no resentment anymore, no hate for what happened between you. But when there's a choice between spending your Friday night at the same place as him or staying at home? Well...

But tonight was clearly different. Something (Jasmine) had dragged you here and to be quite honest, it hasn’t been half bad yet. Jasmine kept waiting for you to get up from your chair to come and chat with Jackson and Changkyun. Her all-time crush and his best friend.

"In a sec!! Just let me finish this drink!" You said while you showed her your glass. She quickly nodded and turned to keep talking with those two. You have to remember to thank them later for keeping her entertained because if it weren't for them cracking jokes every single second, she wouldn't have let you off the hook that easily.

Meanwhile, you decided to get a little lost in your head. Laughing to yourself because you were feeling like having a main character moment. Being the only one sat down in a place full of people. The mysterious persona drinking by themselves.

But that didn't last long.

"Mind if I sit here?" You shook your head. He put his drink next to yours and asked, "How are you?" And it somehow felt like you couldn’t have avoided this exact situation.

You released a breath that you didn't even know you were holding. "I'm sitting Jooheon, drinking… existing, you?" He forced himself to smile. Trying to hide the fact that he was still feeling uneasy around you. Nonetheless, showing you the dimples that you used to love so much.

“I can see that”, he paused, "it's been a lot since I last saw you, you look different".

You hummed softly, finally making eye contact with him. "So you expected for me to look the same?" You surely weren't going to pass up the opportunity to be passive-aggressive to him.

It still makes you happy to know that he has never minded this side of you.

"I'm teasing, I guess we both look different, it's been what? Two years?"

"I'm not sure, but it feels like a lot" He took a sip of his drink and started to fidget with the glass. Maybe you're not the only one that's changed after all.

In the two years, you were together, you never saw him like this. But let's remember the fact that you never fully knew him back then. It just feels weird to see him this anxious. Especially with you.

"I've wanted to reach out to you for a while now," You frowned at his words. "Guess I lacked a little courage" He let out an airy laugh. "I really want to talk to you".

Now it was your turn to feel tense. What is this supposed to mean? How long has he been wanting to talk? And talk about what?

You tilted your head and opened your mouth to ask him all this, but he didn't give you the chance to get the words out.

"Before you say something, please believe me I just wanna talk", "but not in here”.

"Alright then, where do you suggest we ‘talk’ Jooheon?” He took his phone out to check the time. 10:44 p.m. He pursed his lips and said, more like hesitating, "I could walk you home?"

You stared off into your group of friends. This was going to make their night interesting. Seeing you two go together again, just like all those times before.

Jooheon's been waiting for this since he saw on your social media that you were leaving the city. And Jasmine took care of letting him know that you would be coming back in about 6 months.

That was a year ago. More than 365 days waiting to be in the same room with you. Praying that you would let him talk to you. Not that you would reject him. But he was scared, he was perfectly aware he messed up everything.

As you were both saying goodbyes to your friends, you started to think about how everything had ended between you two.

You know what? Yes, maybe I was wrong in ghosting him but after all, I don't owe him anything. Just like he threw me out of his life two years ago. We didn't work out, he never communicated with me. He didn't choose me back. I just had to watch him get rid of me, no explanations, no nothing. And I find it really hard to believe that he's been dying to talk to me. What could be so important that he wants to have a proper conversation? How will I explain to him that I stopped replying for no particular reason? That I just realized that we weren't good together, and I had to let go of him? Should I tell him that no matter my hard feelings, I still thought about him constantly?

You had left each other in the cold back then.

He called your name, and you snapped back to reality. Didn't even realize you were already outside of the bar when he softly asked you, "aren't you cold?"

You smirked and told him "Well yeah, walking back home in this weather wasn't in my plans dummy, but I didn't bring a jacket though".

He used to be so attentive to you. One of the other things you used to love about him. Always concerned about you.

He simply put his jacket around you and started walking before you could complain about something as simple as this. Like you always did.

It feels nice to know that someone in this world knows you to this extent. The way you’ll react to simple things. How can you still love someone despite knowing that you don’t work together?

You realized he still has this jacket. It's the same one he gave me the first night we spent together. Why do I have to remember this now? Not fair. Maybe he wore it on purpose.

You gave a little run to catch him. Now that you were by his side, you were getting impatient, "Can you please start talking? I'm intrigued by all your seriousness".

You were kind of hating this feeling. Everything about him felt familiar. Suddenly, you wanted to cling your arm to his but thought twice about it.

He chuckled. "Well it's not super serious, I want us to have a nice conversation, you know?" You snorted at this, what does a nice talk mean?

"I can be nice, as long as you tell me WHAT you wanna talk about…", "come on Jooheon, just get to the point".

"Okay!! OKAY… I-" he took a deep breath and continued, "First of all, I want to apologize to you for everything, then I want us to talk about what happened between us if that's okay with you?"

You'd be lying if you didn't say that you wanted this to happen since you drew apart the first time. You always dreamt of having an adult conversation with him.

But the dream left your mind bit by bit. Just like your heart got itself back together after he left you, piece by piece.

Overwhelmed, you could only stare straight ahead into the street. He called your name again. Now your eyes were on his, and you could see his concerns. How his mind was going miles per hour, just like yours.

"I want to apologize too,” you smiled and finally let yourself link arms with him. “It’s gonna take us a while, isn’t it?”.

The walk to your apartment took around 15 minutes. The words you exchanged with Jooheon were kept to a minimum. You weren’t gonna get into the heavy stuff right there in the street.

When you finally arrived, you gave him back his jacket. It was gonna get uncomfortable to talk with him with a piece of clothing that made you remember too much.

“Want something to drink? I have a beer, wine, you name it”. He sat on your couch while you searched for something non-alcoholic in your little fridge. “A beer would be okay”.

You got yourself some water. Otherwise, your head would be fuzzy, and wouldn’t be able to tell him all you’ve had on your mind for years.

You handed him the bottle, and you took your seat on the carpet. Your mind wandered off to the last time he was in here.

When he told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did. You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’, for you.

You remembered how your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment.

He took a swig of his drink and by the time he put the bottle on your little coffee table, it made you realize he was sitting right there, in front of you.

Finally, gathering the courage to start telling you what was on his mind. “I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to you again”.

I didn’t think so, either. We both fucked up multiple times.

──────────────────────

You were never a couple. After 5 years, you never understood what had lacked between you. The desire was there. Now and then you had your moments of happiness. Usually on the weekends.

When you met, you weren’t looking for love or a serious relationship. At least one of you.

Jooheon was free, like the wind or like a bird. He flew back and forth and once in a while he needed to land somewhere for a while. Every so often he sought another fire, another bed, other arms that weren’t yours.

The time came when he made you feel a million things inside. Overwhelmed with words and emotions, mostly love. But also turmoil and maybe desperation.

It made you happy that he made you feel so much after being empty for months. You felt different with him. It was the kind of love you didn’t know you had in you. Didn’t even think it was possible to express about someone like this. Until him.

You didn’t need anyone else. You just needed Jooheon. Not only that, but you didn’t care for how long your love would last because you believed that the meaning of the word love was what you had built together.

A few hours together. Every so often the whole night.

But when the morning came, the nightmare started to take form. Texts at inappropriate hours, and even unanswered messages.

You started thinking that you didn’t know better. You started feeling insecure. Replaceable. Maybe he knows better than to be with me.

Desperate to know what you had. But afraid that you would ruin everything with the words “What are we?”.

Tried to convince yourself that all of this was okay. That it was a good thing that you were going slow, giving him the chance to open up to you.

Months kept passing and your trust in him was running thin. He made you feel weird on the daily. Wondering if he was seeing someone else. If he danced with someone tonight. Had they kissed? Is he having sex with someone who isn’t me? What if he’s tired of me?

You wanted to be with him, but It was starting to hurt.

I hate that when I try to get myself to think that I don’t like you anymore… you do these little things that make me love you.

When you were together, he treated you like there was no one else for him. His hand was always wrapped up in yours. Talking until dawn, about college, his family, and your relationship. Those times, you couldn’t lie to yourself about your feelings.

He was the only face you could see in the world. The only guy you’ve ever wanted to keep around. But how did we get to this point?

The day you told him you were starting to fall in love with him, all he could reply was, “I don’t know what to say, I never thought you would be in love with me”.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Well what do you want me to say? You took me by surprise”.

“You could tell me how you feel. I’m not expecting for you to tell me you love me back, I-“

There’s no return now, you have to keep talking.

“I’m just tired of not knowing what’s in your head, I’m not sure if you want to have something with me anymore, it’s okay if you don’t so, just be honest with me”.

“I like you”. You stayed quiet after hearing this, urging him to tell you more than just three words.

“I mean, of course, I’m attracted to you”.

At that moment, you liked what you heard. But the more you thought about it, you realized that he didn’t actually care for you, or loved you. Maybe that was a greedy thought from you. Maybe you expected too much.

You were angry but mostly angry at yourself.

Why are you still waiting for him? It's been years and nothing has happened between you. Nothing ever will at this point.

You ended up telling him not to bother you again, that if this was his way of ‘loving’ you, you were better off without it.

But that was a lie, you longed for your phone to show his name, even if it was at 5 A.M. Still thinking that there was no other way to love someone.

Unable to put an end to it, months kept passing and nothing changed between you. Jooheon had many others, and you only had him.

You loved spending nights like this by his side, watching him sleep, wondering for hours about you two. Unable to explain how you could love him this much.

Maybe he did love you, but you can’t handle this kind of love anymore. It’s better for both of you to end this, whatever it was because it's driving you crazy. And you meant it this time.

Jooheon told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did.

You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’ for you, this was the last time you were gonna let him in. Your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment. Fighting back your tears while softly saying to yourself, “I’m always going to love you…”.

The texts at 5 A.M. came again, but this time there was no answer. Jooheon started calling and sending texts for days, but you didn’t reply. All your efforts in disappearing from him on social media weren’t stopping him.

He met someone else, yet the texts wouldn’t stop. Until one day they did.

Now and then your curiosity would get the best of you and you would see his Instagram stories with her. An older girl you had met once. They were supposed to be friends.

You wanted to avoid comparing yourself to her but, he never posted something with you. It’s a dumb thing to worry about, but it’s one of those things that sometimes matter.

You tried to understand the whole situation. Accept the fact that you two weren’t meant to be. That he didn’t see a future with you.

Your days stopped revolving around him. You focused your time on getting your degree, learning another language, going out with your friends. Even tried meeting new people.

There were a few here and there. No one was enough for you.

Your ideas of love and relationships were different now. You gave another meaning to the word love. You wanted to find someone who would love you and take care of you. A quiet kind of love, real love.

What you had with Jooheon, was something you never wanted to experience again. Days went by, even months until you saw each other once more; for the first time in Jooheon’s life, he felt a knot in his stomach, he knew he lost you, for good this time.

Months passed and Jooheon left his girlfriend. He now felt different because he looked for you in everyone, yet he couldn’t find you, and he felt empty.

He cursed himself a thousand times for not knowing how to appreciate you and the love you gave him for two whole years. Tears finally fell from his eyes, he couldn’t believe he was crying for someone, crying for love, crying for you.

He took his phone out, swallowed hard, and started typing another text.

“I miss you, and I need you with me now and always, I never thought I would say this, but I’m not happy without you. Maybe I should’ve loved you less and loved you better, I just want you to know that I’ll always be waiting for you my sweet y/n…”

But the message was never delivered. You had changed your number.

It made sense that you would do that someday. It’s been too long, but this didn’t stop him from sending you texts in the middle of the night. When he felt the overwhelming need to have his arms wrapped around you.

──────────────────────

I still love you

(9:05 p.m.)

no, I don’t

(9:06 p.m.)

I’m confused why did this happen

(2:26 a.m.)

I want you to be happy, if this is what it takes then I’m okay with it. be happy. for me. please.

(10:45 a.m.)

I kind of hate you for changing your number

(8:57 p.m.)

I’m sorry

(1:43 a.m.)

maybe if I wasn’t so fucked up this wouldn’t have happened

(3:37 a.m.)

why can’t things be like they were before

(10:13 a.m.)

please come back to me. I need you. You need me

(1:58 a.m.)

I still want you

(4:06 a.m.)

──────────────────────

The day you left town was the day he swore to himself to try his best to get another chance to talk to you, just once more. To make things right, not caring anymore about his pride. He just wanted to let you know everything he didn’t say when you were by his side.

That he was sorry that it took him too long to acknowledge he was wrong. That he knew he was a little too late and wishes that he could say something more meaningful than a simple “I want you back”.

──────────────────────

“I wonder why” You smirked at him.

The more you kept making eye contact, the more you realized you didn’t feel any kind of resentment anymore. You both had grown, and while you didn’t actually need this kind of closure, you figured this was the healthiest moment to do so.

His eyes were avoiding you now, his smile was still there, but you could tell he lost a bit of his confidence. “Okay, so I’m gonna talk first, please just hear me out. I want to rip the band-aid,” He said with a forced laugh.

“I don’t know why I could never tell you that love scares me. That it scares me to be attached to someone”. His tone was soft now.

“I still play in my head the day you told me you were falling in love with me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you not to tell me those things because you could have changed your mind any moment”.

“I never told you how I felt one of the many nights you spent with me. You were stroking my hair and I seriously felt like crying because I was fucking scared”.

“I was scared to lose you”.

“I’m sorry because I know I made you think I didn’t want you for something serious. I’m sorry for being immature”.

“I look at you now, and I’m happy to get to see you like this. You’re still everything I’ve ever wished for and more. You need to know that nothing compares to you”.

“And believe me, I don’t expect you to take my words as a way of asking you for another chance, I know I don’t deserve it… but I would really love it if you could let me show you I could love you better this time”.

You never imagined these words coming out of his mouth. Couldn’t believe how he was looking at you. Hopeful but understanding at your loss for words.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” His voice was barely audible, but you nodded at him.

“Well, maybe it’s not an actual question, but I’d like to know why you stopped talking to me”.

“Look Jooheon, I don’t know how everything I wanna say will come out, so please bear with me”.

You didn’t know where to start, either.

There were so many things to be said that you were getting nervous to start talking. Because once you opened your mouth, you didn’t know if you would be able to piece everything together.

“When everything ended I really wanted to hate you, everyone around me hated you,” you admitted to him, “except for me and I hated that”.

“I knew that all I could be able to do was cut you from my life, so I just decided to stop talking to you”.

It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth. “I admit it was a poor way of handling things, and I’m sorry for that”.

You’ve always been scared of having this type of conversation.

You let out a sigh because you never thought that the following words were gonna come out of your mouth, ever.

“I’ve only been in love once in my life, and that was when I was with you”.

“It used to frustrate me that I wasn’t able to make it work with anyone after you. I couldn’t help but compare everyone to you”.

“I swore to myself that I never wanted to go through the same thing we had, maybe because those memories are yours and I don't want anyone else messing that up, you made me feel so safe, I felt alive with you, nothing could stop me when I had you”.   “You've been the only one I've ever wanted to see every day, no matter the hour or how busy I was, I truly wanted everything with you”.

You hadn’t noticed how he had been looking at you this entire time. He couldn’t believe that you used to feel that way about him. Still couldn’t wrap his head around hearing you say how you loved him.

You quickly wiped a tiny little tear that escaped your eye, hoping we wouldn’t notice. But he did.

You let out a nervous laugh and said, “I’m not sad, I swear, It’s just that I never thought I would say all this out loud, especially to you”.

“You don't know how many times I wanted to call you, run to you”.

“Last year before I left I wanted to see you, I kept trying to convince myself that It didn't have to mean anything, that I was just desperate for any physical touch, but from time to time, I wonder if what I really needed was just you”.

He didn’t say anything. So you just said his name out loud. “Jooheon…” Followed by a long pause.

“I feel so different now”.

“When I was far away from you, I realized that I need someone who isn’t absent when it comes to me, someone that isn’t a ghost in my life”.

While you were talking, you were watching his every move and how he couldn’t stop playing with his rings. You’re still not used to seeing him act like this.

“At this point, I want someone who will take care of me, that makes me feel safe. Someone who wants to be with me because they love me, and they love to have me next to them. I’m beyond only spending the night over, I want whole days”.

You finally got up from the floor and sat next to Jooheon. Facing him, making him do the same. He kept looking at you for a whole minute but it felt like hours.

You didn’t know what to do after his following words.

“What I realized with being away from you is that I was pushing away what I’ve always wanted. I wasn’t confident that I could meet you where you were. I felt it would be better not to waste your time back then, but that was then, and this is now…”

You kept looking at each other a little too long. Both realizing you didn't need words anymore. The love was still there.

#monsta x #jooheon #joohoney #jooheon imagines #jooheon oneshot #jooheon monsta x #jooheon angst #jooheon fluff #monsta x fanfic #jooheon fanfic #monsta x fluff #monsta x angst

33 notes · View notes

onewomancitadel · 2 years

Note

Some Questions: Are Cinder & Jaune ever going to finally have sex in your story? If so I hope it's nice and loud so their friends can hear. Secondly, How do you think Cinder would react if she had to face the reality of becoming a Mother to Jaune's child? Would she have an existential crisis? An Emotional breakdown of Monsters not being able to be Mothers? Or would she feverishly begin consuming all books on child-rearing?

Thanks for your asks, and thank you for reading my fic. I hope you are enjoying it.

First question: Are Cinder & Jaune ever going to finally have sex in your story?

Yes in the first Author's Note for The Distance Which Fools the Skimming Eye it says:

There will also be explicit content in the fic which will be reflected in a rating change.

I'm not sure they would want their friends to hear, truthfully, though if you asked Two-Way Mirror's Cinder and Jaune they might give a different answer. Those two are very busy though.

Secondly, How do you think Cinder would react if she had to face the reality of becoming a Mother to Jaune's child?

Well I did kind of write a fic a little bit about that already, and discussed a bit of what informs my interpretation in another ask here, but I think the concerns are both character and thematic. I think the question of life/death is interesting and what means for her is, again, interesting. It also makes sense in respect to Jaune, as he's just a given they have canonically gone to the pains of showing he's good with children, but then in my own personal interpretation, I enjoy that he's the Holy Mother to Cinder's Usurper, so he's already got fertility imagery surrounding him. Not necessarily as a canonical influence there, I think the archetype is a bit obscure, but it's there for me.

But in terms of 'facing reality', to use your phrasing, there's some comfort in the fact this is something that every mother confronts (or doesn't). And I think it's something she would be very good at facing head-on, if it happens, depending where it's written. I mean, yes I think monstrousness is a question with her character, and yes she can struggle with it, and yes there's all of the personal dilemma there, but that's what makes it interesting. I like to think she turns around to some confidence in The One Known by Many Names... I love angst and pain but I also want to see the other side.

And besides which: she wouldn't be alone.

Regarding your second ask:

Hi. I'm the same guy who asked about Cinder becoming a Mother. I wanted to follow up on that. Tell me about Jaune & Cinder's kids. Whats your headcanon for that? How many? A Dozen? Do they love their mom or their dad more? Do they drive their parents nuts? Will you ever write a story about it?

I can't really say. I do hint a little at some of my thoughts in Wet Fire but it's otherwise something I don't want to go into more detail about beyond what are personal thematic considerations.

I get that some people view motherhood as a burden or a sacrifice of personal identity, when a redemption arc for her should theoretically free her, but I don't view having children this way at all, and I don't think the answer in Cinder's redemption arc is her completely forsaking all responsibility. Responsibility is not the same thing as imprisonment either. I think she has a responsibility as Fall Maiden.

It's kind of hard not to play into the triple goddess Mother, Maiden, Crone ideas suggested with the Maidens (Mother - Raven, Crone - Fria), and given that Raven struggles with motherhood, and Cinder's put in a daughter role in respect to her (I mean Cinder basically traces Yang's footsteps all of V5), and Yang deals with the responsibility of mothering Ruby... it would be nice to have a positive answer to all of that with Cinder.

It doesn't feel like a bog-standard happy ending for Cinder and Jaune, it feels like something that genuinely makes sense given the themes in the story and how it even explores the Maiden powers and ideas of legacy and her own lack of family (and I mean... it's hard for me not to read into the fact he has such a big family...) And making things instead of killing things. I've never got this sort of story with a complex female villain.

I don't want to have to pre-emptively defend my interest, and I guess I should assert that I don't think this is the path for everybody and I certainly don't think so for every R/WBY character. But the pairing I am interested in and very invested in fits it.

And so what if I have baby fever!

#seraphina's asks #user: anonymouse #the distance which fools the skimming eye #viewer discretion warning

1 note · View note

silverspectre · 4 years

Text

en garde, pret, aimer! || lockwood & co.

pairing: light florence bonnard x anthony lockwood

genre: fencing(?)ish!au and also maybe straying away from canon bc what iS canon at this point, fluff, platonic main relationship, eventual angst, pre-canon??? aka beFore the series takes place

words: 3.8k

tags: fluffy!!, young lockwood nd flo, fencing stuff, apologies for the french (literally lol), i wrote this like half a year ago i’M SORRY-

what to expect: “’Why else would I be here? Tea time?’”

a/n: so this was beta-read and edited by two lovely people! i appreciate their help so much, as they’ve made this story what it is now. thank you so much @piratekingimogen and @willowwisk for your help! is this canon-compliant? someone ask jonathan stroud. this will be my last fic for a while, unless i have a spontaneous bout (pun intended) of inspiration. thank you all for your support!

translation: en garde, prets, allez = on guard, ready, go (used to start a fencing bout) / en garde, prets, aimer = on guard, ready, love (used to start this story)

The train ride from London to Paris is a particularly long, arduous journey. There's not much to see; reading a book 50 times or twiddling your thumbs is perhaps the most productive thing one can do. However, though a subjective opinion, it's a great deal less dull when in the company of a pretty girl whose name you learn through one piece of black licorice.

Florence Bonnard. It was elegant and flowed off the tip of your tongue. She was pretty; her teeth shining white and her long, blonde hair practically another shade of gold, shimmering in the sunlight. Anthony Lockwood could only stare at her.

To Anthony, Paris was a dream of any fencer. It was hailed as the fencing capital of the world, home to countless famed swordsmen and agents. He could merely wish to be like them. He was sure he was on his way, however. He'd been invited to a DEPRAC-sponsored competition in France, and of course, he absolutely had to go. His supervisor, Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, forced him anyways.

He made the acquaintance of Florence Bonnard only a few minutes ago, when she huffed into the train compartment that was otherwise empty except for Anthony's doe-eyed presence. Looking upset, she plopped herself down diagonal from him. She didn't even acknowledge his existence.

"Hi?" he squeaked out. His voice was a little scratchy. He coughed, then repeated the word in a much more confident tone.

"Well? What are you?" This was the first he'd heard the girl speak.

She spared a glance at Anthony.

"I'm, uh..." He thought fast. She didn't

know him; no one on the train, as far as he knew, knew his name. He could reinvent himself, banish the name used so fondly by his parents and sister. He could be...

"I'm, uh... Lockwood. Just Lockwood. Yes. That's me."

"Lockwood... classy," she commented. She paused, in thought. "Though... I think I'll call you Locky."

"L-Locky?" Lockwood stuttered. This was not how she was supposed to react to his name.

"Locky. It practically rolls off the tongue, don't you think?" She smiled, slightly exposing her white teeth. It was a pretty sight. He could've stared at her for a second or an hour before he registered her answer.

Lockwood was caught off guard. "W-well, what's your name, then?"

She smiled a pearly white smile. "Wouldn't you like to find out," she said slyly.

A sweets trolley rolled down the aisle, pushed by a plump old woman. "Anything you'd like to buy?" She popped her head in the compartment.

The girl scanned the trolley, then made up her mind. She turned to Lockwood. "You'll have to buy me a liquorice to find out my name."

"I'll have a bag of liquorice, please," Lockwood immediately said to the lady, pulling out two pounds and exchanging it for a bag. He didn't know why he complied so easily - maybe he'd fallen under a trance for her.

He handed one to the girl, who looked momentarily startled before recomposing herself. "So, what's your name?" Lockwood asked.

"Florence Bonnard," she simply replied. It matched her, Lockwood thought. Prim and proper, it matched her perfect posture and neatly combed hair.

"You fence?"

"Why else would I be here? Tea time?"

"O-of course not, but you're just so pretty-"

Oh no. He'd let it slip.

Florence Bonnard's lips curled upward. "Thanks, Locky. I'll remember that on the piste."

He was suddenly scared to imagine Florence Bonnard on the piste, with her blonde hair tied up and her body in first position, sword ready to attack. With her confidence, double of his, how good could she be? Lockwood felt his stomach turn queasy. How good were the others on the train?

She poked Lockwood lightly. "Worried?" she teased. "En-garde," she mimicked a referee, "prets-" she made a face, "allez!" She pretended to poke Lockwood with her rapier, then laughed.

Lockwood couldn't help but laugh with her at her imitation.

"What's your agency?" Lockwood asked.

"That'll cost you a liquorice," she stated.

He handed her one.

"Sinclair & Saones. 'm an apprentice for 'em. You?"

"Nigel Sykes."

"Really?" she drawled. "You seem like the Rotwell type - well, then again, you weren't sitting with the lot in the first place."

"Rotwell and Fittes agents always win, don't they?"

"I'll give 'em a run for their money. How old are you?"

"Ten."

She looked up and down. "Alright then."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Nothing... When's your birthday, then?"

He told her.

"I'm older than you."

"So what? That doesn't mean you'll be better!"

Florence Bonnard smiled. "We'll see about that."

Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, or just Sykes, was Lockwood's mentor. He was a bit scraggly, but not enough to make him incompetent with a sword. He was on the slightly mad side, yes, but was an extremely skilled swordsman. Lockwood was constantly amazed by his ability.

"You rely on remises too much. Practice on your footwork, you're doubting yourself too much.”

They'd been practicing for two hours - maybe more. Lockwood didn't even bother trying to count the bouts. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, his breaths hot in the mask. Lockwood's legs were sore and his arms hurt from all the attack, parry, and riposting he'd done.

The competition started in three days - Sykes had decided Lockwood needed to cram in as much practice as he could. On and off the piste, Lockwood could hear Sykes' voice in his head, telling him to Parry quarte or Eat your breakfast, it's free food! Food was accommodated at the hotel which sponsored DEPRAC for the competition. The rooming was nice as well, Lockwood being lucky enough to get a room to himself rather than most participants in the tournament who had to share a room.

When the competition finally rolled around, he'd won the first bout easily - almost too easily. Regardless, a win was a win, even against some Bunchurch agent with half a brain.

The real competition - or so he'd heard from rumours - was Quill Kipps of Fittes. He was apparently a prodigy fencing-god in his mid-teens, favoured by the majority of the crowd. He was tall and ginger, from what people had been telling him. Easy to spot in crowds. Lockwood was curious to see the famous Kipps in practice - rather, he was curious to see what any Fittes or Rotwell agent could bring to the table.

Lockwood had yet to see the mysterious Florence Bonnard do her bout. He was eager to do so after showering and slipping into the stands to watch the next bouts. After a win from Alexander Fawley, and another from Emily Schreiber, Quill Kipps was up. The teen was fast, and his every move was clearly calculated. It was everything Lockwood could aspire to be.

Florence Bonnard was fast as well, to Lockwood's surprise. She was extremely quick on her feet and could get a touch faster than the referee could blink after saying allez. It was impressive, being younger than a lot of contestants- and she wasn't even a Fittes or Rotwell agent.

Lockwood considered what he'd do if he was ever tasked with being her opponent, but only for a split second. It was too unrealistic he'd make it that far. But still, he had a vivid image of her lunging, ponytail swaying and rapier thrust as the tip of her blade touched his side. Now was not the time to daydream.

The second bout passed, 14-15. Lockwood had won in a landslide, attacking the split second his opponent hesitated.

After, as Lockwood chugged a bottle of water on the side, still sweaty and clad in his fencing gear, Florence Bonnard approached him. "Good bout, Locky," she said in her sly way. "Although, your footwork could be better." His gaze was stuck on her, even as she stalked off in true Florence fashion.

"Th-thanks?" It was already too late; Lockwood just watched her straw-colored hair swish away. She was one interesting girl. He sighed, staring at her back.

Lockwood's days consisted of eating, practicing, and sleeping. He would occasionally watch other agents practice, to pick up on faults and techniques they used. That's, at least, what Sykes had told him to do. Half the time Lockwood just drifted off, staring at a wall corner or, as a current example, a blonde ponytail. ...Blonde ponytail...? It was Florence Bonnard in the flesh, practicing. Of course, Lockwood just assumed this fact, judging by the fencer's posture and hair. It was unmistakably her.

Lockwood hadn't seen her much, either because their schedules didn't match up or she barely practiced. She was very good, sharp on her feet and maneuvering like she was on ice. It was scary the way she got a touch so fast. He assumed she'd practiced a great deal privately; at least, that's how he comforted himself at the sight of her skillful rapier patterns.

Lockwood's eyes jumped to a tall ginger-haired fencer - no doubt Quill Kipps, practicing a couple metres away. He, too, was skilled. Close to Florence's level, but not quite. This could be the year someone from a small agency won - though, Lockwood couldn't keep his hopes up. Being the crowd favourite, who was to say he didn't have a couple tricks up his sleeve?

Bouts three and four passed, and just somehow, Lockwood had survived into the quarterfinals. The numbers were dwindling down; Florence Bonnard, not much to his surprise, was in strong.

The quarterfinals passed, but now that he'd won, more pressure had been draped on him. Practices stretched late into the night, leaving his muscles incredibly sore and eyelids drooping on their own accord. He almost forgot to shower one day, planning to sleep in his fencing gear. Sykes had been drilling into him much more. The lineup for the semifinals was posted; Lockwood would be fencing against Quill Kipps.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. He sweated at the thought of fencing the teen. No matter how much he analyzed Kipps' fencing, he never felt ready. Sure, he wasn't as good at Florence, but she was substantially better than Lockwood - as was Kipps. The day of the bout, Lockwood almost froze before walking in, trying not to look at the crowd. It was bigger than any he had fenced for before. He sucked in two deep breaths then pulled the mask over his face. Sykes patted him, whispered quick advice in his ear. Lockwood wasn't paying attention, more focused on the judges, rhe referee, and the feeling of his feet on the ground. He and Kipps did the salute, like any other bout.

The referee started to speak, also like any other bout. The words were muffled in Lockwood's jumbled mind. His thoughts were racing at 100 kilometers per second, tumbling around each other, unlike any other bout - but he didn't need to hear the words regardless. He knew what they were.

"En-garde."

Lockwood stared at Kipps.

"Prets."

He took a deep breath, readying himself.

"Allez!"

The bout began.

Immediately, swords clinked and clashed against each other as the agents attempted to protect themselves. Lockwood's mind went pure blank, and his body went into autopilot.

1-0. Sure, a rough start, but he could catch up.

1-1. Tied, that was okay.

2-3. Lockwood was in the lead-

5-7. Halfway there!

11-10. No, losing wasn't an option-

13-14. His sword was a blur in front of him, basically acting of its own accord. Parry, riposte, attack-! It was all too quick. Kipps had lost his balance, and Lockwood took the opportunity. He lunged, slashed with his blade just to earn a point. His blade felt something soft - he got a touch! - but then Lockwood actually looked at the tip of his blade.

Quill Kipps was stunned entirely. He'd fallen on the piste and stared up at the younger agent. The moment was silent; practically in slow motion. The crowd held their breath in disbelief.

Lockwood had struck Quill Kipps with his rapier on the bum. The judges were in shock. It was a touch, though, right? It... counted? The referee gestured, and Lockwood pulled his raper away.

The bout ended.

Lockwood won. Lockwood won, against the star of Fittes agency. Quill Kipps, meanwhile, fumed. His cheeks were redder than his hair, which was matted with sweat.

"I'll beat you next time, Anthony Lockwood..." he murmured.

The crowd was having its fun; booing in disappointment or cheering in amusement, Lockwood couldn't tell. He convinced himself it was the latter. He didn't mean to stab Kipps in the bum. It just happened. It's not like anyone ever goes into a bout thinking, "Oh, yeah, I'm going to riposte a clean one up his bum."

Sykes was impressed, though he seemed more pleased by the last touch Lockwood earned.

"You'll be going up against that Bonnard girl, so you better clean up that footwork of yours. Her bladework is quite fine, too, I'd say. Sharpen yourself up, Anthony - no pun intended."

Practice, as always, lasted to the evening - Lockwood had just gotten out of the locker room, hair wet from his shower when he heard a familiar rasping tone.

"Locky~" Florence Bonnard sing-songed, conveniently leaning on a pillar outside.

He approached her.

"Finals are tomorrow," she said, smiling. Her teeth glinted - it was charming. Her eyes shimmered a bright blue - when had he missed this feature of hers? She was breathtaking. He didn't react, dumbly nodding as he stared at her.

"Oh, and by the way? Stop staring at me sometimes, it's creepy, Locky. I know you like me, but you're too... you." She tapped his nose, ignited a blush across Lockwood's cheeks.

"Cute," she commented. "See you on the piste." She walked away in her typical manner.

Florence Bonnard beat him the next day, 13-15. It was completely fair. Her attacks were clean and precise, and she hesitated not a second. It was a blur in Lockwood's head; one second her blade was against his torso; the next, her blade had touched him 14 other times and the referee proclaimed her the winner. He wasn't disappointed, however - she, from a small agency, had won, not a Fittes or a Rotwell agent. He decided it was well-earned on her part, completely ignoring the way she had so softly put him down the day previous. She was just so attractive.

She gave him a toothy smile after the bout and patted his shoulder. "Don't be too upset, Locky." It was safe to say he wasn't.

2 years later.

It was terrible. It was one of those moments in your life where you can recount every detail of where you were and what you were doing exactly when it happened; heck, you could even recite the exact seconds.

Lockwood was reading the morning newspaper, sipping his pulp orange juice (the joys of being a blue whale!) when he read the news.

Both Sinclair and Saones (of the Sinclair & Saones agency) had died on a case, with poor Florence Bonnard being the only survivor. Florence Bonnard - the name reminded Lockwood of so much; mainly, his puppy crush on her when he was younger. He failed to see the appeal now, but platonically, she was wonderful, despite how much she demanded liquorice.

He visited her on the shorelines of the River Thames; it was mainly where she resided, to the most of Lockwood's knowledge. He slipped a bag of liquorice hidden under his coat for her.

Her appearance was slightly disheveled and a straw hat covered the half of her face.

"Locky!" she croaked, but her voice lacked its usual mirth. In fact, it was incredibly fragile; to put an exclamation mark after it would never properly do it justice. She looked cold, shivering in what appeared to be her agent clothing. Her rapier was still attached to her side.

"You're shaking." Lockwood sat beside her.

"A-am I, Locky?" she hiccupped. She took a deep, shaky breath, then laughed, an echo of bitterness and a sore throat.

"I heard what happened," he said softly. "How?"

"How else, Locky?" she said, less of a question than a horrible revelation. Her voice was terribly sad, full of pain and memories. "It was ghost-touch. I protected myself with an iron cross 'til dawn against the Limbless." Her fists clenched in her skirt. A tear dropped down her cheek - which Lockwood noticed to have fresh, small scars and what looked like to be traces of tears on her slightly muddied face. It was the exact opposite from the pristine, composed Florence he'd known for so long.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be."

"Did you get hurt anywhere?"

She shrugged, wincing as she touched her cheek.

"I could-"

"Don't. It'll heal on its own." He wanted to tell her to clean it as well, but he could tell she'd turn down the advice in the same manner.

"Well," Lockwood said, "what are you doing next?"

Her grip tightened on the fabric of her skirt. "I don't know."

"You could train with me," Lockwood offered gently. "I don't have an agency or anything, but-"

"I-I think I'll try that. Thank you, Lockwood."

"Also, I brought these." He handed her the bag of liquorice.

A slight smile appeared from under her hat.

Her swordsmanship was still intact. Lockwood could for sure confirm this after she'd disarmed him 5 times. She'd lost her will, though. She looked pained picking up a rapier and could barely glance at salt bombs. Lockwood didn't ask. It seemed too personal. Over the course of 3 months, nothing had changed. If anything, it seemed to be harder and harder for her to fight properly.

"Locky... I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?" Lockwood knew perfectly well what she was referring to. "You're amazing with your rapier, still."

"This whole... 'agent' thing. I-I don't think I can go back." She was incredibly vulnerable with no snarky remarks or sarcasm in her voice. It hurt him to see her like this. He'd once felt similar, in his pain-filled rage when Jessica died. He couldn't look at ghosts, couldn't bear to think of them. Unlike Florence, however, he'd had rage to direct toward ghosts; she just felt pain.

Lockwood nodded. "You're sure?"

"It's been 3 months. Every time- every time I can still see their bodies next to me. Hear the screams, see the Limbless. I can't do it."

He hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. But- what will you do?"

"I'll find something, I'm sure."

"I'm always here, Florence. I've been thinking about starting an agency, so if you need anything..."

Florence Bonnard smiled her classic grin. She patted his hair - he took so long gelling it in the morning.... Her blue eyes shone like the sea. "Don't worry yourself, Locky. I've got this."

For months, Florence wandered from thing to thing in search of replacement for being an agent. She hadn't found much. With the Problem raging, agents were in the highest demand, and it was hard to ignore all of the flyers and inquiries looking for one. Lockwood had been concerned she'd find nothing, constantly reminding her of his offer. One thing was clear, though: she was never becoming an agent again. She didn't need to say the words, but it was mutually understood even as Lockwood asked her to train with him.

Slowly, she gravitated toward relic collecting. It exercised her Talent, yet comforted her. She could be free from expectations, and not have to be perfect or clean; she could collect the relics on the River Thames and sell them. It would sustain her and calm her. Most importantly, it was an environment she was comfortable in.

As time went on, her straw hat became faded of color and gained splotches of mud on them. She traded her agent fit for a padded jacket and Wellington boots. It suit the job. For once, maybe she was happy.

"So, you're sure you don't want to become an agent?"

"Locky, the only reason I came was because you said you had liquorice. I'm perfectly happy as a relic woman." She smoothed down her padded jacket and adjusted her signature straw hat.

"I have my license now. I'm recruiting-"

"I'm happy where I am, thank you very much." She took a sip of tea and plopped a liquorice in her mouth.

Lockwood sighed. Florence Bonnard, as always, was impenetrably stubborn. she'd started going by Flo Bones, which was catchy, and fit her relic woman persona. Lockwood respected this. He could see how happy it made her, though not particularly sanitary. He recalled the day she'd first told him of her new occupation. They'd been sitting on the banks of the River Thames, near where Lockwood had comforted her the morning after tragedy struck her.

"So... you're becoming a Relicwoman? Where will you get the sources?"

"The river has enough," she gestured to the muddy shore of the river. "My Sight's been getting stronger."

"Be careful, Flor-"

"Oh, and Locky, I've started going by Flo Bones - it's quite fitting, don't you think? I like it. It's catchy." She'd lifted her hat, just enough to wink at Lockwood before pulling it down again.

"Well, my offer will always stand, Flo. You're a spectacular agent - you know my address. 35 Portland Row, hasn't changed."

"You haven't an agency to work for, Locky, have you?" Flo mused bluntly.

"Working on the license. I plan to open my own agency, agent run. What d'you reckon I call it? I was thinking 'Lockwood and Company.'"

Flo gave a grunt of approval. "'Lockwood and Co.' It's decent."

"Thanks, Flo."

She'd nodded. "Now go. I can't be seen hanging about the lots of the upper class. See you, Locky."

He pushed the bag of liquorices to her, the memory making him smile sadly. "It's all yours."

Lockwood couldn't find any agents willing to work for him. Flo, being one of his main friends, was painfully aware of this fact, subject to his forever hanging offer of employment.

"Oh, cheer up. Don't be lonely. You'll find someone. Lockwood & Co.! It'll be known through all of England." She softened for a second. "Anyway, I have an auction to attend." She stood up, bits of dirt falling from her jacket. "Bye, Locky!" He reached out to her then restrained himself - but she'd already exited 35 Portland Row, shutting the door behind her.

"Bye, Flo." He stared at the closed door, at his slightly outstretched hand. He could only hope she was right, and he'd find someone soon.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #flo bones #florence bonnard #lockwood #the screaming staircase #lockwood x flo #what is the ship name for them???#fencing #fluff #jonathan stroud #fanfic #angst #lockwood fluff #lockwood angst #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #*silverspectre

11 notes · View notes