#I used to think he was ok-ok until he killed her nanny.

[thegirlwholivesin-delusion]

Absolutely dni with me or my blog if you simp for rezef hill.

That dude is a huge red flag and I'm so confused (and disgusted) to see so many rezef×reader fics in this tag.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Presley ~ A Curtis Everett AU ~ Epilogue

Curtis Everett x OFC Presley Adams

Synopsis:

Curtis Everett is a hard working man. As the head of the mob of Concord, he does everything he can to provide for his wife and children. His life is perfect. Until it's not.

After a devastating accident, Curtis is alone with his children and needs some serious help.

Presley Adams needs to find work and fast. Running from her past she just wants to lay low and earn enough to get her out of town. Until she starts working for Curtis as his live in nanny.

As she falls in love with this family, can she stop her past from finding her? Or will her past be the end of the Everett reign in Concord?

Book two of the Five Kings of Boston series

Warning: themes of a mafia lifestyle; SMUT; possessive tendencies; murder; death; age gap; rape

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: part Eight

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Seven months later... 

Presley 

I find myself sitting in the window seat of our room a lot. Since that day in Jersey, my comfort is here, where Curtis used to hold me as we watched the sunset or the sunrise. Its where I would read to Evie and Josh while we waited for Curtis to come home. Its my safe place, where I feel the most at peace.  

I don’t remember much after Curtis lost consciousness. I just remember that I was screaming for Curtis to wake up. I felt someone hold me, I think it was Clint pulling me away from his as the othr members of our team rushed to work on Curtis. I woke up in the hospital with Clint waiting for me.  

“Clint?” 

“Hey Pres.” He came over and kissed my forehead. “I’m glad you’re awake. The kids have been asking for you.”  

The door opened just then and Josh and Evie peeked around.  “Mama!” They ran to my bed and climbed in. I cried as I held and kissed my children. They were safe and I didn’t lose them. They held on to me like I could disappear. After a while, they fell asleep on me. I wouldn’t move them for the world.  

Clint took a seat next to me. “Obviously, Blackwood is dead.” He sighed. “Pres, I’m sorry but we found your father in the old playhouse. He left you a letter.” He placed an envelope on the bedside table. “Adam made it and is recovering at Concord General.”  

“What about Nat?” 

Clint went to open his mouth when the door opened again. Nat shuffled in, dragging her IV pole with her. “I’m ok,” she whispered with tears in her eyes. Clint got up to allow her to sit. 

“Nat is good,” Clint said with a smile. “One bullet hit the weak side of her vest and the other was in the vest. Some blood loss but obviously she’s good.”  

“And Curtis?” 

Before Clint or Nat could answer, a doctor came in. “Miss Adams, I’m Doctor Sloan. How are you feeling?” 

“Sore and a little confused.”  

“Understandable, given the circumstances. Your tests came back clear, it think it was just the shock.” He stopped for a second.  “I do have something to discuss with you. But if we want to have the discussion in private...” 

“No, you can speak in front of them.”  

It was news that would change my life.  

I sighed as I looked at the letter from my father.  

Lia,  

It devastates me to know that your entire life and the actions that have happened were my fault and you suffered for it.  It took you being gone from my life for the last six years to realize what I had done.  

I failed you.  

I want you to know, I didn’t physically kill your mother. Charles pulled the trigger after she refused to say where you went. I was angry and I let it happen. I am responsibie for your mother’s death. I didn’t follow her because once I was clear-headed, i knew I needed to do anything and everything to keep you safe.  

I have spoken to Curtis. He loves and cares for you so much. I hope that you are happy with him. As happy as your mother and I were before I messed it all up.  

I’ve left everything to you, Lia. The family will already has instructions to merge with the Everett family. They were very tired of Charles and would only transition if you were listed as the head of the family.  

I hope that you and Curtis have a wonderful life together. I love you, Lia.  

Your father, Mario 

I think I’ve read this letter a thousand times since it was given to me. For some reason, it gives me peace, knowing that my mother’s murder had died at my own hand. I mourn the loss of my father. My head leans against the glass as a tear slides down. All the loss I have endured make my heart hurt.  I look down at the belly protruding from my body and hope that this little one doesn’t have to experience more.  She is the miracle we had dreamed about before... before everything had changed.  

We are sitting where I am now, leaning into Curtis. He is kissing my shoulder before he breathes, “Would you want to have children, Kitten?” 

“With you? “I asked with a giggle 

He nips at my ear. “Brat. Yes, with me.”  

“We have children.”  

“Kitten,” he growled in warning.  

I giggle louder before I turn in his lap to face him. “Yes, love. I would love to make our family bigger.”  

I wipe my eyes, but the hormones don’t allow the tears to stop.  I don’t hear the door open but I hear... 

“Kitten, are you okay?” 

Curtis 

I had been watching my Presley from the door way for the last few moments. I could see she was floating back into her memories. Memories I wish she didn’t have.  

Fuck did everything hurt. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was the noise, a constant beeping. And then I heard it, the quiet prayer being said, begging God to bring me back to her.  

To bring me back to my Presley.  

I felt her delicate skin in my hand. She is alive, crying and praying, but alive. I squeeze her hand a little and she gasps. 

“Curtis? Baby, can you hear me?” 

“Heaven,” i croak out.  

“Baby?” 

“See an angel,” I say before the darkness takes over.  

I can feel wetness on my hand and weight next to it. I go to pat the weight and try to open my eyes but its too bright. I feel the softness of her hair.  

“Kitten.”  

“Curtis? Baby are you with me?” 

“Heaven,” I sigh before I try to blink my eyes again. And then I see it. Her eyes. Her beautiful, red rimmed eyes. A reminder of everything I could have lost. “Presley.”  

“Curtis!” She leans against my arm and sobs rack her body.  

“I’m here Kitten.  I’m here.”  

“Kitten, what’s wrong?” I kneeled in front of my pregnant fiancé, worried that something had hurt her. I ran my hands over her, stopping on her belly as I felt my daughter kick.  

“I’m ok,” she hiccups. “Just remembering.”  

“Why baby? Its in the past. WE made it. We’re here.” After I woke up, I wasted no time to put a ring on her finger. Especially after she told me that she was 10 weeks pregnant.  Our miracle survived her kidnapping and assault. I have never been a man of faith.  But I couldn’t help but send a prayer of thanks that my girls were physically ok. Now, we had to deal with the mental healing that Presley was going through.   

“I know but it scares me because of who we are and what power we hold.  How we’ll protect them. How they will never meet my parents. I just get lost in my head.”  

I knew she would never get over it completely, but she was strong.  She was resilient.  She is my Queen.  However, there were days like today where she had to deal with the reality that hurt her heart.  She lost both of her parents and killed a man.  It was a lot. I had faith she would make it to the other side. “I know sweetheart. But I will never let something like this happen again. I love you.” I kiss her softly.  

“I love...oh,” she stops, clutching at her belly.  

I froze. “Pres?” 

“I think that was a contraction,” she says with a tremble.  

I smile. “Okay, let’s get you downstairs.”  

Fourteen hours later, I’m staring at my sleeping girl while holding my sleepy baby girl.  “Chloe Amelia, you have no idea how much you are loved,” Iisay, swaying to invisible music. I look out the window, thanking the heavens that the birth was not complicating, just exhausting for Presley.  

I finally feel complete.  

I’m putting my girl down to sleep when my phone buzzes.  I take a look since I had annouced my daughters arrival to the Kings and the Don.  

Levinson: Your daughter is beautiful.   Everett: Thanks man.   Levinson: I’m sorry to do this today but I think I’m in trouble  Everett: are you ok?  Levinson: Physically, fine. Emotionally, questionable.   Everett: I’m going to need more  Levinson: Jennie left. We had an arguement and I took it too far  Levinson: I need to find her before he does 

Never a quiet moment as a King of Boston.  Guess I need to make plans to visit Camden.  

The End 

*

*

*

*

*

*

The Don takes a sip of his scotch as he looks at his phone with the latest princess of the family.  but he also sees a message from the King of Camden 

Camden: I didn’t mean what I said to her.  please help me find her.  

He sighed.  He had two kings settled.  Three to go.  

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@kmc1989

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@lokislady82

[chuuyanakaahara]

ok please tell me more abt band au kouyou,,, and also why is dazai disgraced,, (tho i can think of a few things)

band au kouyou <33 she's actually gone through several different roles in terms of when i was figuring out what to do with her in this au, bc i knew i wanted her to be important but i scrapped the original plot wherein she was a pivotal factor of that backstory, so i had to change it.

kouyou is now one of the most influential people in the industry. and she knows it. she has a soft spot for female artists bc she knows the industry is unjust but she has a visceral, violent hatred of child stars as in she doesn't think they should be a thing.

she's gone through it. she was disgraced from her very, very powerful family because she was a curious child by nature and got them into a couple scandals when she spoke to the press. they stuck her with a nanny and cut her off from anything financially beyond that singular nanny for years, until she got her first modelling job at 16, where she got many of the skills she carries now; make-up and etiquette and fashion, so on. she kept jumping from gig to gig to stay afloat after her parents realized that she did have said modelling job and therefore fired that nanny. (mind you, now she's living wherever she can afford, where she used to live with the nanny in the nanny's place, like a stand-in guardian.)

one of her more scummy jobs ended up suggesting she audition for a role in a popular movie, set to be a musicial. she did, though she could not sing for shit, but the director liked her so much that he agreed to get her voice acting lessons if she accepted the role, because he really wanted her to be part of the film. to this day, it's the only film she's been in. she began releasing music after the movie, and she had a little bit of money to play around with, and she got signed to the port record label, where she moved the ranks incredibly quickly due to her background in the bureaucracy of modelling and such.

dazai is "disgraced" for several reasons. he, too, was a child prodigy who had an incredible amount of scandal surrounding him when he was young, and a lot of trouble with his record label because he'd explicitly go against their wishes and breach contract, by changing all of the passwords of his accounts so his PR team couldn't undo the damage, by getting arrested, by releasing demos he was explicitly told not to, because he was young and stupid and trying to find a reason to live and he couldn't, it was all too monotonous. he ends up leaving the spotlight because he was released from his contract and no one wanted to sign him when his release just happened to coincide with, say, the death of one of his best and only friends, where he went on a month-long, very public bender. his following is almost cult-like. nowadays, he's signed to another label, but he doesn't make much music on his own. he likes to ghost-write because, like chuuya, he doesn't have a muse for his own music, and he might end up actually killing himself if he goes back into the public eye so soon. (its literally been four years.)

[adamwatchesmovies]

Dark Shadows (2012)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Dark Shadows shows promise at first, with tried-and-true but effective “fish out of water” humour. From there, the plot gets progressively unsure of where it wants to go, until it starts throwing stuff at the screen haphazardly. I don’t know if anyone could’ve salvaged a workable film from the woeful screenplay by Seth Grahame-Smith but director Tim Burton doesn’t seem to be trying very hard.

In 1760, Barnabas Collins (Johnny Depp) breaks the heart of his servant, Angelique (Eva Green). After she uses dark magic to kill Barnabas' fiancée (Bella Heathcote) she transform him into a vampire - so that he will outlive anyone he ever loves. Soon after, he is captured by villagers and buried "alive" in a coffin. Escaping from his prison in 1972, Barnabas finds his descendants in financial ruin, his beloved reincarnated as their new nanny (Bella Heathcote as Victoria), and Angelique still alive and still obsessed with him.

After the fact, it’s obvious Barnabas is the film’s main character. While watching, it isn’t so clear. You think Victoria will be a major player but she’s an afterthought with no personality. Most of the character feel like director Tim Burton self-indulging a little by tossing a bone to his favourite performers (Christopher Lee has a minor role which can’t have taken more than a day to shoot) or like inclusions put there just because they had an equivalent in the original 1966 television series. The film lasts nearly two hours. If you cut out Helena Bonham Carter as the Collins family doctor who does very little doctoring, the kinda-sorta misfit son David (Gully McGrath), his ne’er-do-well father (Johnny Lee Miller), the rebellious teenage daughter (Chloë Grace Moretz), the elderly maid (Ray Shirley) and the drunken groundskeeper (Jackie Earle Haley), you probably wouldn’t have more than 40-minutes’ worth of a movie. That’s not much but it’d be tighter, focussed and more enjoyable. None of these people have anything to do, and the less said about Alice Cooper’s cameo as himself, the better.

It feels like a bad soap opera that’s being made-up on the spot. Stuff just happens and sure, sometimes it’s funny but nothing’s building up to anything bigger. Now Dr. Hoffman is seducing Barnabas. Ok? Why? So we can cement that everyone finds Johnny Depp in vampire makeup irresistible? I guess that’s a thing but I don’t really get it.

Then, finally, a facsimile of a plot rears its ugly head. Ah! So the film is about Angelique and Barnabas’ rivalry. Wait. She waited 200 years for him to escape from the box she buried him in and in the meantime, she’s been using her fishing business to drive the Collins out of house and home? What a lame way to use your magic powers. It all builds to a lacklustre conclusion in which people are thrown around by magic. I think we’re supposed to feel upset about doomed romances and people caught between two irreconcilable worlds but so little time has been spent fleshing out the mushy stuff you just don’t care.

As an 18th-century vampire struggling to keep up with “modern” technology and sensibilities, Johnny Depp does well. He delivers all of the film’s best moments and yeah, some of it you’ve seen before but it’s still effective. The costumes, sets and art direction are also quite good so visually, Dark Shadows is pleasant to look at - especially when Eva Green is seducing Barnabas. Just about everything else is cringe-inducing and tone-deaf. Sexy as she may look, Green is terrible in this role and I can’t even blame her. No one shines thanks to the weak screenplay and scatterbrained direction torn between drama, horror and comedy. I nearly completely forgot about Michelle Pfeiffer, which is too bad because her character actually contributes something of value to the story.

The first time I saw Dark Shadows, I didn’t love it but found things to enjoy and gave it a mildly positive review. Re-examining it now, 3 stars seems way too generous. Although never awful, Dark Shadows doesn't give you many reasons to watch it. (April 5, 2019)

[universallywriting]

When do you think the CGs would get to babysit Lucky? I don’t think they’d be interested in her as a baby, but they’d start to want to play and spend time with her a lot once she got like, 3. I can see Steven & Connie responding in a range of “ok, but we’re not letting you out of sight with her” to “No, you used to lob Steven around like a ping pong ball, he only survived playing games with you ‘cause he’s superhuman.” I can’t imagine how long it’d take for them to get to have, say, a sleepover.

"Because if they hurt my baby, I'll kill 'em."

"Kinda hard to kill a gem, you know."

"I'm willing to go the extra mile." Connie crossed her arms over her chest, a deep scowl on her face. "I think we should wait until Lucky's an adult and then she can spend as much time with them as she wants."

He sighed, putting his hands on her shoulders. "It's one sleepover. Pearl has an exhaustive list of rules. We can send her with food I cooked. It's gonna be fine. I spent years with them watching me and look at me now!"

"Yes!" she cried, gesturing wildly at him. "Look at you now! Should I go get the x-rays?"

"That's different." he waved her off. "They know Lucky's human."

"Oh, okay, so I'll go get my x-rays." Connie laughed bitterly. "I'll make you a deal, the number of broken bones I have is the age where Lucky can have her first Crystal Gem sleepover."

"That was years ago! They'll get it now. We made boundaries." He looked over at their three-year-old, currently stacking colored blocks in a semi-coordinated kind of way, and his worry lines deepened. "I mean, they get it now, right? I think they do."

"I don't think they do, Steven!" Connie hissed.

He scratched his nose, thinking that over. "I mean. We could... test them?"

"What do you mean? Like, write a test?"

"No, like, we tell them they're alone with Lucky and then we spy on them to find out if they're responsible enough to really watch her alone." He shrugged.

"Isn't that the thing they did to you that kicked off your weird hero complex thing?"

"I mean..." He rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. "You know I think I turned out fi-"

"Steven!"

He groaned and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay! you're right! But how are we..." He paused for a moment, thinking of the phrasing with his daughter nearby, and finished, "How are we supposed to make Lucky siblings if she's never out of the house?"

"My parents could babysit," Connie suggested. "They know how to take care of a baby."

Steven hummed uncertainly. "I mean. They won't endanger her physically."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she straightened, raising her eyebrow.

"I mean..." He shifted uncomfortably. "You know, just totally unrelated here - when do your parents think we started dating, and what do your parents think you did with your sword?"

She made a quiet, annoyed sound as she sucked her teeth looking away. "Okay, so I lied a lot. That's still not as bad as the child soldier thing."

He rubbed his face with a groan. "Okay, that's it. I'm tapping Dad for nanny money. We can try this again when she's ten."

[sushigal007]

Time to go and visit some Capps!

Where Regan shows off how smart she is by throwing the toddler outside, rather than through the ceiling.

After that, Cornwall takes over the training.

Regan: Been working hard?

Cornwall: And ready to work even harder!

Oh, and here’s disaster gay Kent, lusting over a married man. Kent: Love knows no boundaries. Unfortunately, his flu knows no boundaries either, go make soup.

Kent: And how am I supposed to do that with no fucking counters?

How do you feel now? Peter: Souper. Oh good grief. Are you sure you want him, Kent?

Kent: YES.

Martha conquers walking!

While these two...

Regan: Great, potty-training’s done, can I go back to bed yet? When I’ve finished kicking your brother out of it.

Well done, Cornwall.

Kent: REJOICE. FOR I HAVE RETURNED. Nanny: Great, you can let me in then. Oops.

Makoto: I’m just gonna stand here and watch.

Regan: Same. Kent: Please don’t.

Regan: All right, I’ll do this instead. Cornwall: Wait, what was the safe word again? Regan: Montys.

Cornwall: You’d think that would put us off, but nope!

Random picture of playful Martha.

Kent: THIEF! THIEF!

As if we don’t have enough to put up with, with Antonio’s daily bin shenanigans.

Kent: I can see you, you know.

Antonio: Good. Kent: Seriously, what the fuck?

Skills, skills, all the skills.

And now it’s time for Martha’s birthday.

Kent: TOOT TOOT.

I think I really might have fixed that invisibility glitch, you guys!

Child Martha makeover. Don’t be fooled by the miserable eyebrows, she is a happy kid.

Martha: Dance party!

Martha: And that’s why birds are the best. Ariel: Interesting theory.

Regan: I am NOT HAVING FUN. Wow that’s too bad.

Martha’s having a great time!

She even finds a moment to heckle Hal. Martha: Boo, you suck, go home.

And then Cornwall decided he hates his niece. Cornwall: The fuck are those wings for? Are you a Capp or a Summerdream!? Desdemona: Fuck OFF!

Cornwall: Take that! Well done, you beat up a teenager. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

At least he gets on better with his nephew. Hal: Grilled cheese! It’s so good!

Regan has started writing a book. I have already forgotten what it’s about.

Pauline: Are you OK? Kent: No, I think my hand is broken.

Pauline: When I’m older, I wanna travel all around the world. And get away from my parents.

Kent: And that’s homework sorted forever. Martha: I get more next week. Kent: I meant for me.

Regan and Cornwall bring home more promotions.

Kent: Is that an aeroplane or a shooting star? Who cares, make a wish!

It’s Free Pizza Saturday!

But I felt like sending the household out on an outing instead.

And apparently I didn’t take any pictures of it and they wound up at Gorilla Burger instead.

Perhaps my lack of screencaps is because of this annoying error that’s started popping up and preventing other Sims from showing up. It only happens on owned business lots, so I need to check and see if it happens in my genderswapped uberhood too before I go and yank all my CC.

Back home, Martha plays some chess.

And Kent maxes out Cleaning.

Not to be outdone, Martha maxes out logic.

Martha: Dear Diary. Today I established myself as a boss-ass bad bitch.

But not as bad as Desdemona, who broke in to beat up her uncle.

Bianca: Heh heh heh... that paper is gonna be mine. Regan: Good luck doing that while I’m-

Bianca: YOINK! Regan: FUCK YOU, MONTY BITCH!

Landlord: And that’s why ladybird houses are prohibited.

Oh for fuck's sake. Go home, Desdemona.

Desdemona: NOT UNTIL I KILL HIM! Kent: Omg.

Martha: Daddy noooooo.

Cornwall: Wow, fighting my niece really got me in the mood. Regan: Kinda creepy, but I’ll let it go.

Desdemona: Sleep with one eye open. Cornwall: Gasp!

Anyway, in between all these shenanigans, Kent maxes out logic. Kent: I deserve a reward.

Didn’t you hear? Ladybird houses are prohibited.

Kent: Apple tree then? Kent. How do I put this? They’re prohibited because you live in an apartment. The garden is shared. You can’t put anything there. Kent: You’ve ruined my life.

Kent: Maybe I’ll feel better if I max out another skill. Don’t think there’s enough time, but-

Kent: Already done it. And now I want something new. Fire away!

KENT. NO.

Uberhood Index

[bteezxyewriter12]

My Brother's Bestie

Pairing- Seonghwa x Named Reader

Genre- Smut

Word Count- 3.3k

Includes- Sex in many different positions, Oral, Abs Riding, Tummy Bulge, Squirting

Note- I do not know anything about Seonghwa's brother just that he's older. So for this fic I am making him four years older, making the reader four years older than Seonghwa. And I'm making his name Ryuk. If Seonghwa ever publicly talks about his brother and mentions his name I'll change it

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist

📝Seonghwa Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3. Part 4

J POV

"He's almost here!", Ryuk says giddily

"Ok", I answer

"C'mon Jo, I haven't seen my brother in awhile. He's always busy and he's finally getting a break."

"I know Ry. I'm happy for you. I just don't know why I'm here"

This morning Ryuk called me to come to his parents house. He's lucky I was off from work. And he's my best friend or I'd kill him for calling me so early

When I got here, he announced that his little brother was coming home for two month. His little brother being Park, Seonghwa, an idol in the group ATEEZ. I remember Seonghwa

I met him when he was four and I was eight, newly moved to Sacheon, Korean from Venice, Italy. Dad's job moved him here and Ryuk was the only kid who was nice to me in my new school

My mom died when I was little and I had lots of nannies while my dad worked. It worked out that Ryuk and I became best friends because I stayed with his family after school until my dad picked me up instead of having babysitters

He worked a lot so I had to sleep over Ryuk's house sometimes. His parents were fine with it, his mom becoming like my mom

And I'm still close with her, still call her mom like when in was little. She took care of me and taught me to speak Korean fluently

Seonghwa was little and he used to follow me and Ryuk around all the time, wanting to play with us. He was annoying sometimes, sweet the other times, hugging me and smiling at me

I had a soft spot for him even when Ryuk was mean and told him to leave us alone. He was such a cute little bean and I felt bad. Ryuk later told me he was always around us while growing up because he had a crush on me

I thought it was cute because it's a little kid with a first crush, but I didn't really think anything of it

And as I got older, into my teens, I ignored Seonghwa more and more. I didn't mean to but Seonghwa's was still little and I was a dumb angsty teen

Ryuk and I didn't spend much time at his house anyway, opting to going out to parks, parties, doing stupid teenage things, so I didn't see him much

When we were at Ryuk's house we were in his room and he didn't let Seonghwa in. I didn't see Seonghwa as anything but my best friend's kid brother

Then I went away to college and I heard from Ryuk that he was training to be an idol. That was the last I heard about him

Kpop is not my music genre. I don't listen to it and I don't know any groups. I know BTS because they're everywhere and I know ATEEZ only by name because of Ryuk

I don't know any members for each band or any songs. Seonghwa and I weren't close so I don't know why I'm here

"Don't you wanna see Seonghwa?", he asks

I shrug, "Not particularly. You're my best friend Ry not him. I don't know him. He's not the same little kid I knew before."

"I know but look, I want you here. My mom wants you here. You're family so you should be here. You don't have to stay the whole day. Just for a little ok?"

I sigh, "Yeah"

"Great", he smiles

"I'm hungry", I tell him

He rolls his eyes

"Hey you woke me up! On my day off. Early. After I pulled an all nighter at the book store. And with no food ready when I got here. It's like you don't know me.", I whine

He just bursts out laughing, "Relax Joanne. I'll get you food ok? What do you want?"

I shrug

"C'mon"

We go into the kitchen and I sit at the table

"We have croissants?"

"Yeah fine", I agree

"I'll make you tea"

"Great", I answer thankfully

He gives me a plate of croissants and I immediately grab one, shoving half of it in my mouth

"God you're such an animal!", Ryuk laughs

"Fuck you, I'm hungry!", I snap, "If mom was here she'd already have food for me"

"Yeah well she's out getting all of Seonghwa's favorite food", he answers

"Hurrumph", I say, "You should be more like mom."

"Hey I gave you food and I'm making you tea. What else do you want from me?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

He rolls his eyes, "No, you brat"

I continue eating my croissants, thinking about what I'm going to do later. I don't think I'm going to stay here all day. Mom and dad probably want to spend time with Seonghwa alone, catch up on everything since he went to Seoul

They're his real parents and I don't want to impose. Plus maybe my real dad has some time off and we can have dinner. Unlikely but I should try

"Here", Ryuk says giving me the cup of tea

I eagerly take a sip and sigh. Just like I make it

"Good?"

I nod, "How did you kno-"

"To make it? C'mon Jo, I've watched you a thousand times. And the way you do it is weird. Milk and sugar like it's coffee"

"Italian way", I say

My grandma used to make her tea like this and I got used to it when I drank hers

"Yeah. It's weird that's why I remember it"

"Gee thanks"

Ryuk sits across from me while, I sip my tea and eat more crossiants. Ryuk looks up to the doorway, smiling

"Hey", I hear a voice

I look to the voice and I choke on my tea. A guy stands in the doorway. A hot fucking guy

Tall, red hair with an undercut, high cheekbones, full lips, thin but strong looking

Beautiful, like ridiculously so

Wearing jeans and a black t-shirt

Deep dark brown eyes

This can't be-

"Hey Hwa", Ryuk says

Oh shit. This is Seonghwa? Puberty hit him like a fucking truck. He's hot

"You remember Jo, right?", Ryuk asks

"Of course"

His brown eyes lock on me

"Hi noona"

Fuck

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Seonghwa POV

The second I walked into the kitchen, my eyes are on her. My eyes are always on her. From the second I saw her when I was four. She was my first crush and it has developed into love

She is the only girl I want. I had other girlfriends but they didn't compare to her. Even the gorgeous idols I'm around, the ones I've fucked, do not compare to her

She is the one I want everything with. A real relationship that will lead to marriage, kids and being together until we're old. I've only imagined that with her, I only want that with her

I knew from when I was four that she's my one. And seeing her again confirms that

She's fucking stunning. Her gorgeous big brown eyes, her cute nose, her beautiful smile, pink full lips, long hair that's an aqua blue now. She's wearing a loose white tank top with a black bra, dark blue jeans and black sneakers. God I just want to see what's under her clothes

See her body, touch her

As I look at her, I see new things on her. The back tattoo she has, the one on her collarbone, the ones on her arms. The eyebrow ring in her right eyebrow. God she's a wet dream

I think about her all the time, wondering if she remembers me. If she ever thinks about me at all. I used to follow them around all the time, just to be around her

When Ryuk had enough of me and kicked me out of his room or wouldn't let me play with them, I used to cry. I used to go to my room and cry my eyes out. I just wanted to be near her

When they were teenagers and stopped coming around the house so much, I was miserable. I'd take any chance to see her, even a glimpse of her walking to Ryuk's room

It was hard to leave to go to Seoul but I did it because I wanted to be an idol. I wanted to sing and perform. And secretly I'd hoped she'd noticed me as I follow my dream

But from the look on her face, I don't think she recognized me. That means she doesn't know me, she hasn't seen me in ATEEZ. She still hasn't noticed me. I feel dejected but I force a smile on my face

"Hhh...hi Seonghwa", she says, forcing a smile

"It's still Hwa noona", I say, watching her swallow hard at the word 'noona'

Hmmm I think she like it. I have to test it out more. I hope she does because I really like saying it. Turns me on

Walking into the room, I catch how she looks at me biting her lip briefly. I made sure I wore a shirt that clung to me, showing off my body and my arms. When I knew I was coming home, I worked out like a mad man. And it seems to be working. She's looking

"Sure, yeah. Hwa"

I smile. I always loved hearing her call me Hwa. She used to call me so many cute nicknames when I was little. Hwannie, Seonghwannie, Seongnie.I lived to hear her call my name. Apparently I still do

"So how's it going?", I ask, sitting at the table with them.

God I'm so nervous

"I haven't talked to you in awhile"

"Oh nothing. Graduated college. Got a job. Got an apartment. Pay bills. Normal boring adult stuff", she answers, avoiding eye contact

I want her to look at me. I want to see her pretty eyes

"Oh. At least you get your own apartment and don't have to live with anyone"

She looks at me with sympathy. Finally, I can see her eyes. And I fall right into them

"Right, you have to share a dorm with your members right? How many of them live with you?"

"There's eight of us all together"

Her eyes widen in disbelief and I'm drowning in them

"Eight? Holy crap. Do you have your own room at least?"

I shake my head, "I share a room with Hongjoong, the leader of ATEEZ"

"Wow so you have like virtually no privacy except in the bathroom"

Ha. If only she knew

"Sometimes not even in there", I mutter

"Oh shit that sucks"

"I mean it's not so bad. Sometimes it can be annoying but I love the guys. They're like my brothers. And Hongjoong is a good roommate. He's always in the studio, so he's not there a lot"

"Oh? What do you do in ATEEZ?", she asks

"Well my official tiles are vocalist and visual"

She looks at me like she has no idea what I'm saying, "What's a visual?"

"Uh...", I start, not sure how to describe it without sounding full of myself

"The most attractive member. The hottest. Best looking", Ryuk answers smirking

"Oh", she says blushing

"Well he has to share the visual title with Yeosang and Wooyoung", Ryuk clarifies

I glare at him. Fucking thanks Ryuk. There's uncomfortable silence for a minute, Joanne looking anywhere but at me

"So uh you sing?", she asks breaking the tension

I nod, "Yeah. I was supposed to be a rapper but I changed to a vocalist"

"Rapper? There's rappers in kpop?"

I nod, "Yes rappers and vocalists"

"Why did you change to singing?"

I shrug, "The company felt I should be a vocalist. I couldn't argue so I accepted and embraced it."

"Yeah but that sucks if you wanted to be a rapper but had to change"

"It's ok. It worked out"

"So you're one of the uh most attractive members and you sing"

I nod, "And dance"

"Dance too?"

"Yeah"

"Wow"

I hope she's impressed

"How do you remember all those moves?"

"Well we practice everyday for hours and it's like once the song comes on my body just remembers"

I catch her eyes moving from my face to my chest and down. She swallows hard then averts her eyes. Does that mean she likes my body? I hope so

"That's great. Very talented", she says, looking in her mug intensely

I glance at Ryuk and he's smirking, looking between us

"So uh, what do uh you do?"

"Oh nothing as cool as an idol"

"Oh stop Joanne. You're job is impressive given your age", Ryuk rolls his eyes

"Yeah for nerds", she mumbles

"Of which you are the biggest one", Ryuk tells her

"You're not wrong", she answers

She's a nerd? That's adorable

Ryuk turns to me, "She owns a bookstore. Since she was twenty four. It's very successful. She's the boss and all her employees listen to her"

"You make me sound like a dictator", she snaps

"Well-"

"Do not finish that sentence Ry or I will smack you"

Ryuk holds up his hands in surrender

"I think that's so cool. To own a store. To be the boss. To be successful with it"

"Thanks", she says softly

"And I like books", I blurt

God I sound like an idiot. I like books? What am I a toddler?

"I mean I like to read so uh maybe you can bring me there while I'm here?"

I hope I'm not making a fool of myself even though I am

"Oh you'd...really want to go?"

I nod enthusiastically

"Oh sure then"

"Great"

Another silence falls, this time for longer. The door opens and I hear my mom calling

"Is Seonghwa here?"

"Yes ma. He's here. Jo's here too!"

My mom walks into he kitchen

"Seonghwa!", she smiles and I get up to hug her

I missed my mom a lot

"Hi mom", I greet

"Hi, how are you? Are you tired? Are you hungry? I'll make you food", she says rapidly, letting me go

Then she grabs Joanne in a hug, "Hi Jo. How are you?"

The genuine smile on her face is so beautiful, "Hi mom. I'm good. How are you?"

"So much better now that my three babies are here"

Joanne giggles and it's so cute

"I'll make you something too. I know Ryuk didn't make anything for you."

"Hey I gave her croissants!"

My mom rolls my eyes, "That's not making her something to eat. That's throwing some food at her"

"Told you", Joanne says smugly, making me chuckle

"Oh shut-"

"Ryuk! Don't talk to her like that!", my mom scolds

Joanne sticks her tongue out at him. God I love how silly she is. We could have so much fun together. She looks over at me as I laugh and smiles at me

God I'm done for

⭐⭐⭐⭐

"Show us another move", Ryuk asks

I know what he's doing. He's trying to get me to show off in front of her

After my mom came home, it's like I wasn't there anymore to Joanne. She didn't look at me much, she didn't talk to me instead talking to Ryuk, my mom and dad or just listened to us talk

She was going to leave in the afternoon but my mom convinced her to stay. I wasn't able to get any time alone with her, to try to talk to her. Although I'm sure I'd freeze if we were alone and she'd think I'm a huge dork

After dinner, my parents went to their room and we went to the living room. Ryuk keeps asking me to dance or them show moves

He says it's because Joanne doesn't know any ATEEZ songs or choreography and since an ATEEZ member is here, I can show them

I just did a few easy moves, forcing myself to not stick out my tongue or do any of the sexy things I have to do on stage. They've become second nature to me

"Uh which one?", I ask

I already did a few and I don't know what else to do

"Do the one that had all the girls crazy for you. The one from inception"

I feel my face turn completely red. I can't do that one. The shirt lift. It's embarrassing and clear that I'm showing off. I don't want her to think I'm full of myself. I want her to like the way I look with clothes on first

"I don't think that's a good-"

"Just do it", Ryuk interrupts

I glare daggers at him but he ignores me, playing the chorus of inception. What an asshole. What the part comes up, I don't do anything

"Hey what the hell! Do it!", Ryuk snaps

I just look down. I want to but I don't want her to think bad of me

"If you don't, I'll just show her one of the performances"

Fucking asshole

"Ryuk-", she starts

"Fine", I growl

If this fucks up my chances with her, I will murder him. He plays the music again and I just start to move, trying not to panic. It's time and I lift my shirt, showing my abs

I hear a choking sound and I immediately look at her. She's choking on her snack and Ryuk starts hitting her back

"Holy shit Joanne are you alright?", Ryuk asks as he shoves her water at her

She drinks it, gasping. I don't know what to do but stand there

"Went down wrong pipe", she wheezes, "I..I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back"

She gets up and practically runs to the bathroom. I watch her leave wondering what happened. I doubt she saw the move since she was choking l. And I don't know if that's a good or bad thing

I sigh, dropping next to Ryuk on the couch

"Just tell her how you feel", he urges me

"Yeah right. She didn't even speak to me much after mom came home. She wasn't paying attention to me at all. She wouldn't want me like that", I sigh

"Please Hwa. She can't keep her eyes off you."

I look at him doubtfully. Every time I look at her, she wasn't looking anywhere near where I was

"Look trust me. She's my best friend. I know how she gets when she sees a hot guy or one she likes. And she's acting that way with you. She almost choked on her tea this morning when you first walked in"

I noticed that too but I didn't let it go to my head

"And this choking now? Was because you lifted your shirt up"

My eyes snap to his, "No"

"Yes. Her eyes were right on you. She just took a bite of the cookie when you did it. Her eyes went wide and she gasped. I guess the gasp made her choke"

Great. I almost killed her. Just great

"At the very least she's attracted to you. And she'll give you a chance. Joanne isn't stuck up or anything like that."

I know she's not. She's caring and kind, perfect. God, I'm so whipped

"And you know she's not with you because you're an idol or she would of asked me about you a long time ago"

Yeah I know that. I asked Ryuk a couple of times if Joanne mentions or asks about me. If she knows I'm an idol and she's seen me on tv

His answer was always, "Yeah she knows but you know kpop isn't her thing. She doesn't know ATEEZ or you. She doesn't even know BTS. Sorry Hwa"

Needless to say I was always disappointed

"I don't-"

"Just go talk to her or I'll tell her you're in love with her"

"You wouldn't", I say, calling his bluff

"Try me. I'm sick of you giving her heart eyes the whole time you're here, trying to get her to notice you. You got her attention now. Go talk to her. Now"

I don't move, wondering if I should

"Now!", Ryuk barks, scaring me and making me jump

"Fine"

I stand up and walk towards the bathroom wondering what the fuck I'm going to say

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

Watching Mr and Mrs Smith

Huh, they're being interviewed

I love her correcting him on how many years they've been together.😂

Uh-oh, if you're alone you're not safe.

Guess I'm dangerous *finger guns*

SHE HAS A WEAPON!

*explosions* "I'm Jane." "I'm John." 😂

FIREEEEE! Oh good, they're dancing. Annnnnnd They've had sex.

How did they get the sheet to start up like a dress? I could never do that.

Her missing on purpose with the gun game and then him getting them all, now her competitive side has come out

YEAH YOU SHOW HIM HOW IT'S DONE, JANE!

"Beginners luck." XD

I love her 😍

FIVE OR SIX YEARS LATER

THEY'RE GONNA CRASH! THE DRIVEWAY ISN'T WIDE ENOUGH!

They're fine.

*Watching them drive in separate directions* You can go your own wayyyyyyyyy! Go your own wayyyy

Oh, I low-key thought that black haired dude was gonna show up and Jane was gonna kil him, since they showed him in the office scene before.

John probably thinks she's the perfect housewife 🙄

She fought a dude for curtains? Oh I wish I were a fly on the wall at the store to see that.😂

"If you don't like them we can take em back." "Okay, I don't like them." "You'll get used to them." I'm with her dude.

HOW CAN SHE BALANCE LIKE THAT ON CHAIR WHILE IN HEELS?

Her not turning the light off and then saying 5 more minutes, brings back memories of being a little kid sharing a room with my sister who liked to read with the light on until late😂

That therapist is not helpful.

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that's quite the ensemble to wear if she's dealing with someone who crashed a car. In a hotel room. And I suppose those handcuffs are because she's gonna arrest them?

John, I feel you lack subtlety.

Oh ok, not bad, but damn dude, those bros were just trying to play some games and you gotta be a party killer? Damn.

They really made her a dominatrix to kill her dude, but John got to play a game of poker to get his? Come on!

Oh my god, she's like an adult Nanny McPhee. I wanna purse like that.

Jane is me whenever I'm asked to hold a baby.

Damn, John really meant what he said about where he keeps his stuff.

I want that oven in my future kitchen. Fully equipped with those weapons.

Eddie listing the perks of living with his mom is so funny. 😂

FINALLY! We're getting to see some action of where they work!

JANE RUNS THE SHOW FOR WHERE SHE WORKS? YES!!

"Oh look, more desert." Mood.

Ok damn, she's really doing quite awesome with her stakeout point.😂

John is very much an idot.

OH SHIT SHE SHOT HIM

OH SHIT HE SHOT HER

You definitely should not be allowed to buy those things.

Jane is pissed.

Why did I think Father was actually her dad calling cause he was worried?😂

HE KNOWS!

SHE KNOWS!

He hid the knife only for her to come back with an even bigger one, he's panicking slightly.

She has another!

She is way better at being calmer than he is, he looks like a nervous mouse

She tried something new, I think he thinks she poisoned him XD

Oh no, the wine slipped!

Dude can't possibly catch up to her car

Hopefully he'll pay to have that fence fixed.

Annnnnnnnd he shot the windshield, that can not end well for him

Dude, do not run into the street to say it was an accident, thus putting yourself in the path of your angry wife.

Honestly? Can't even disagree with her decision to hit him with her car, dude has no self-preservation.

And he broke into the car, so she jumped out😂

Eddie, tho stupid, is hilarious.

Men are idiots.

Eddie has such a way of cheering a friend up.☺️

GIRL YOU LOVE HIM, OTHERWISE HE'D ALREADY BE DEAD

The garden party looks like fun

John really took a neighbor as a human shield

THEY TOOK HIS WEAPON STASH😂

He's in the vents!

I want that gun thing, it could be fun

Oooooooo they like each other!

Eddie really is funny

OH GOD THE ELEVATOR

IT BLEW UP

BUT SHE LOVED HIM

He's sulking 😂

I mean I guess I would be too if I was him

Aw, she's crying a single tear

and he's there

They're at the place he proposed 😍

They're disarming each other while they dance, I want that

He tried to blow her up?!

Oh it's ok, she tried the same.

I ship them so hard.

She hit his car so she could get into the drive first 😂 Whata mood

And Jane's taken the house as her base😂

That poor house

The music 😂

"Who's your daddy now?" 😂

I LOVE THAT SHE SLAPPED HIM AFTER THE SEX SCENE

The neighbors at the door 😂

Oh shit, people are after them now

That is not good

Yeah John, why does she get the girl gun?

Much better

Yeah, steal the car from the Colemans!

I would react the same way as Jane if I found out the person I was married to was married before and didn't tell me

"What's her name and social security number?" "No, you're not gonna kill her." 😂

She hired a dude to pretend to be her dad omg

Also it's so funny that she never cooked anything 😂

Eddie getting rude about Jane and then her popping up😂

They're matching outfits tho *chef's kiss*

Oh John is feeling funny cause his wife's body count is way higher than his!

"Who are you people?!" I love that they're bickering and Benjamin is in the background 😂

OH MY GOD IT WAS A TRAP AL ALONG?!

John: "This is a really good store."

Jane: *glares*

They're adorable

She threw a knife and it hit him in the thigh 😂

The elevator music is so cheerful 😂

Oh shit, Jane fell from the celling!

They've both been shot!

I swear if this movie ends with them both dying I'm gonna be pissed.

Oh thank goodness, they're wearing bulletproof vests

Me: *singing* "When I am with you there's no place I'd rather be no no no no!"

Oh my god, they're in therapy again 😂

They redid the house, the poor neighbors 😂 bet they left the Smiths alone tho!

What a fantastic movie, was pretty worried it would be meh, but it was good!

And in conclusion, if I wasn't already thirsting for Angelina Jolie, I am now.

[pedro-pascal-love]

The Truth

Chapter Seven of Well, This is Awkward

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist 

Rating: 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: Reader learns the truth about Dave, Carol returns home, and unexpected things happen.

Warnings: Language, angst, cheating/infidelity

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Dave looked at you. You looked at Dave. There was a silence in the room that was stifling. You blinked, cocking your head to the side, waiting for an answer, unsure of where this confidence came from. Dave stared at you, unsure of how to proceed.

Do I tell her the truth? Or lie? Dave pondered.

Fuck, here goes nothing.

“I - uh. I used to work for the DIA,” Dave started as he held his hands up to help keep you calm.

“What, like the CIA?” you countered with a scoff. Dave nodded.

“Kind of. DIA, Defense Intelligence Agency. We focused more on national level defense military stuff whereas the CIA was more on the intelligence and international stuff,” he explained. You looked at him bewildered.

“You’re telling me that you’re like some kind of spy or assassin or something?” you asked sarcastically. Dave merely looked at you and nodded.

“Yeah, you could say that. But it’s a was. I used to work for them,” he clarified. “The government shut us down a few years back.”

“Used to? What do you do now?” you questioned. “If not for the government, then who?”

“Whoever I want,” he retorted. “I do the same things I used to for God and country, kill names on a paper. Only now, there’s just a price next to them.” You stared at him, completely speechless. The man that you’d been sleeping with, who you had slowly been growing feelings for, was someone who killed people for a living?!

No, no, no, no, no.

This can’t be happening, you thought as you grew lightheaded. You lost your balance and had to sit down on the bed while Dave took a step closer to you. You held your hand up to him.

“No. – just stay there. Please,” you said, as you tried to process everything. Dave. Your boss Dave. Dave, who hours ago had you sprawled out on his bed as he plowed into you. Dave, who just rescued you from your murderous ex.

Fuck, I sure know how to pick ‘em don’t I?

You scoffed to yourself as you held your shaking hands in front of you. You looked up to Dave with a stern look.

“After the shit I went through, I deserve an explanation,” you said firmly. “I watch your daughters; I deserve to know exactly what the FUCK I got myself into.” Dave nodded at your words and held his hand out.

“Fair enough, princess,” he said as you gazed at his hand, still uneasy. All of a sudden, you heard a knock at your door again.

Fuck.

In a blink of an eye, Dave had whipped out his Glock and aimed it at the door, placing his body between you and the doorway. He nodded as he looked at you, letting you know you could talk.

“Who is it?” You shouted.

“Hey, it’s Jesse! I’m outside with Mel, and the cops are here too,” you heard your friend Jesse say. You breathed a sigh of relief as you touched Dave’s shoulder, indicating he could put down the weapon. He hid the gun again as he grabbed your hand in his left hand and your duffel bag in the other and pulled you through your apartment. You arrived at the front door and opened it, to be greeted by Mel and Jesse staring at you, with two police officers behind them.

“Uhm, hey guys,” you said, trying to keep your cool.

“Oh my god! Thank goodness you’re okay!” Mel said as she threw her arms around you. Jesse patted your back as he looked at Dave and then at your intertwined hands.

“Where’s Tom?” Jesse asked, observing the absence of the person who moments ago was just there. You shivered at the thought of what might’ve transpired between Tom and Dave outside your door.

“I got rid of him. Turns out he kind of spooks easily,” Dave said with a shrug.

“Excuse me, who are you?” The policeman behind Mel asked. Dave looked at the officer and read his badge and badge number, memorizing it just in case.

“I’m Dave. Her boss,” Dave said firmly. “When she didn’t return to the house right away, and I hadn’t heard from her, I knew something was wrong. And I was right. She’d texted me about Tom being here.”

The two police officers nodded.

“Miss, do you mind coming down to the station to get a statement?” The officer asked. You shivered, and Dave took notice.

“I think I should get her back to the house. She’s been through so much already, and I can bring her down there later on,” Dave answered for you, taking charge. You gazed up at him, surprised he was so cooperative with the authorities.

I guess that’s what he has to do, given his line of work, you thought to yourself with an eye-roll. How much more did you now know about Dave?

“Very well. Miss, is that ok with you?” You nodded your head as you looked at Mel and Jesse.

“I –," you began, but Dave cut you off.

“If you two would like to accompany us on the way to the house and spend some time with her, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll take care of getting the girls from school and everything later today,” Dave said. You looked at him and then your friends.

“Uh – yeah. I’d like that. They can follow along behind us?” You asked, finally finding your voice. Dave nodded, and you both made your way out the door and to his SUV. Mel and Jesse got into their cars and drove up behind you as soon as you pulled off into the road. You and Dave sat in silence in his car. The air between the two of you growing tense again.

“Spill,” you said as you crossed your arms and glowered at him.

“Ask me questions, and I’ll answer them. It’ll be easier that way,” Dave answered as he looked at the road.

“Fine. First of all, how the fuck did you get into my apartment?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow up at him. Dave sighed.

“I had a copy made of it the first week you were at the house,” he answered truthfully.

“Why?”

“In case of emergencies.”

“Hmmm.” You pondered out loud. You thought back to all your conversations and things that he had said to you. Today he’d mentioned that he knew you were in trouble when he hadn’t heard from you, and he’d made it to your apartment faster than you’d anticipated, considering you thought he was fifteen minutes away at home. He’d made it to your apartment within five minutes of texting him, which would’ve been impossible if he was where he said he was.

“You said that when you hadn’t heard from me and when I hadn’t gotten back to the house after dropping off the girls that you knew something was wrong. But it would’ve taken you at least fifteen minutes, maybe ten if you broke traffic laws, to get to my apartment from the house. How did you know?” You challenged. Dave sighed. He pulled his phone out and handed it to you. You looked down at it in confusion.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” You asked him. He had you point the phone to him as he unlocked it with his thumb and turned the phone back to you. You looked down at the phone, and your eyes widened. On the screen was an image of your front door. You tapped an arrow, and the angle changed to that of your kitchen, facing the front door. Another tap, and you were now looking at your living room. Another tap, and you were looking down your hallway. Several more taps confirmed that there were indeed cameras everywhere in your apartment. Even in your bedroom and bathroom, though it didn’t show the shower, thankfully.

Small blessings, you thought in annoyance.

“Double click and choose the next app,” he instructed. Following his directions, you were then greeted with a series of dots. Upon further investigation, you saw that the dots corresponded to your phone, and your car, along with a few other dots that you weren’t sure about.

“Those other dots are the girls’ phones, Carol’s car, and her phone,” Dave explained, seeming to know your unspoken questions.

“You bugged Carol’s phone?” You asked. “Is that how you knew about the affair?” Dave shook his head.

“Wait, is my phone bugged to?!” You said, realization finally dawning on you.

Oh, god.

He’s heard all the things I've told Mel over the phone.

Dave merely looked at you and smirked.

“I won’t answer that, but I think you know the answer, princess. And no, I had had a feeling about the affair for a while but never had a reason to pursue investigating into it. Until –,“ Dave stopped himself.

“Until?” you prompted. Dave cleared his throat.

“Until you,” he replied softly. Your eyes widened. What exactly was he saying?

“Explain,” you stated.

“After I met you and found out you were the nanny, I had Resnik investigate into your background. Who you were. Where you went to school. Where you previously worked. Who you’d dated. Everything. You were going to be watching my kids 24/7; I had to,” Dave said with a shrug.

“And the cameras?” you asked with a grunt.

“Just to keep an eye on you. With Carol being absent, the girls needed someone, and I wasn’t about to lose the only other person in their life that they looked at as a mother,” Dave uttered. “Besides, even without the cameras, you were tailed wherever you went. Resnik made sure of that.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You mean you had someone spying on me?”

“I guess when you put it that way…. But it was only to keep you safe. The night I got confirmation of Carol’s affair was the night I found out about Tom.”

“YOU WHAT?!” you exclaimed.

He’d known that Tom was out of jail and would be coming for you and didn’t tell you?!

“Look, I wanted to tell you, but you didn’t even know that I knew.” Dave had a point there. You hadn’t mentioned anything of your history with Tom to Dave, even though you’d had a lot of pillow talk the last week.

“Wow,” you breathed out as you sat back in your seat. You both spent the rest of the ride in silence as you processed everything that Dave had shared. Your boss was a spy. No, an assassin. An assassin spy? Whatever. He killed people for a living, which should terrify you, considering your ex had tried to kill you.

I’m surrounded by killers.

Yet you didn’t fear Dave like you feared Tom. In fact, instead of fear, you felt something else, and you weren’t quite sure what it was. You mulled things over and realized that Dave had only tried to protect you and hadn’t hurt you, whereas Tom had wanted to kill you.

Dave was a killer, but he didn’t kill without reason, you thought to yourself.

Being so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you’d returned to Dave’s home until you were pulling up the driveway, and Dave had already parked and looked at you. You turned away from him and let out the breath that you were holding.

“I – I think I need a little space,” you managed to say as you looked at him. Dave looked at you and nodded.

“I understand.”

You got out of the SUV and made your way over to the front door as Mel and Jesse met you there. Dave nodded at you all as you walked into the house and you shut the door. You turned to Mel and Jesse, and they merely looked at you.

“Ok, spill,” Jesse finally said, breaking the silence.

Dave was seething. He wanted to crush Tom like the parasite that he was. But he couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He needed to take care of a few things first; the main thing was to make sure that you were ok. Dave sighed as he thought about the conversation you had moments ago. He’d come clean to you about what he did and who he was. He’d come clean to you about everything, including the cameras and even bugging your phone. What the hell possessed him to do that? He had no idea. He shook his head as he dialed Resnik’s number.

“Resnik, I need you to track down Tom and keep an eye on him. I have some plans for him,” Dave instructed into the phone as he looked through the windshield and towards the silver SUV at the other end of the street.

“Got it,” came Resnik’s reply, and the line went dead. Dave had things to prepare.

—THREE DAYS LATER—

Dave had grown weary of Carol’s arrival as it grew nearer. After the ordeal with Tom two days prior, you’d holed yourself up in your room. Dave had told the girls that you weren’t feeling very well and not to bother you, and you hadn’t even emerged to see him. He’d resorted to leaving trays of food outside your bedroom door for you and would watch as you’d open it and set the previous tray out. He’d understood that you’d just deal with a lot and needed some time, but he grew anxious.

I do not have feelings.

No.

I can’t, Dave argued with himself that morning. Carol was set to be home within an hour, and the girls were still at school. Dave had checked on you through the cameras and had seen that you were sound asleep, having taken some sleeping pills that he’d given you. First, he needed to deal with Carol before addressing things with you. He sat in the living room and waited, thinking of what he would say to Carol. It felt like an eternity had passed before he heard Carol’s car drive up and the sound of her getting out. Dave sighed as he got up and braced himself for what was to come. Carol walked in the door, none the wiser to what her husband knew.

“Carol,” Dave greeted as she opened the door. Carol jumped back with a start.

“Dave! I wasn’t expecting you here,” Carol said as she clutched her chest.

“Well, our nanny wasn’t feeling well, so I dropped the girls off at school today and came home to make sure she was ok,” Dave answered. Carol nodded.

“I see. Well, that’s sweet of you,” Carol said as she maneuvered past him and towards their bedroom to unpack. Dave followed behind her as he bided his time, waiting for Carol to notice the envelope on their bed. Carol walked around the bedroom, putting various things down before setting her gaze on the yellow manila envelope on the bed.

“Dave, what’s this?” Carol asked as she picked it up. Opening it, she scanned the contents of the envelope, and she let out a gasp as the pages fell to the ground. Enclosed were the photos of Carol and Adrian's affair, the same ones that Dave had shown you the night he found out.

“Dave, honey, I – I can explain,” Carol said. Dave held his hand up and shook his head.

“I know everything, Carol,” Dave sternly said as Carol swallowed. “We are getting a divorce, and I am taking the girls.”

“You can’t!” Carol exclaimed, and Dave silenced her with a firm gaze.

“I can, and I am. The girls deserve a mother who will be there for them, not one that goes on so-called work trips with her lover for weeks at a time,” Dave spat out. Carol recoiled at his spiteful tone, and his words cut deep.

“I suppose the fucking nanny’s the one to do it?” Carol retorted back, trying to get a rise out of Dave. “Have you been sleeping with our nanny?”

“Maybe she is! The girls asked her themselves if she’d stay and be their new mom,” Dave bitterly replied, making sure to dodge the question of sleeping with you. Carol’s heart broke to hear that her daughters were unhappy with her.

“No. No, they can’t have said that. You’re lying!” Carol lashed out as she threw a finger accusingly at Dave. Dave shook his head and squared his shoulders, looking much more intimidating.

I wish it were as easy to get rid of her as it would be others.

Ugh.

“It doesn’t matter, Carol. This marriage is over. Don’t bother unpacking because you will be out of this house by tonight,” Dave said as he turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Carol to cripple to the floor in agony.  She let out a sob as she looked down at the pictures once more.

What have I done? She thought to herself.

You woke with a start. You’d had another nightmare about Tom. You dreamt that he’d somehow gotten into the York’s house and taken you and finished what he’d started. You looked down at your arms. Sweat dripping down onto the mattress. The last three nights, you’d stayed in your room away from Dave, and you’d known that it was a mistake. You missed his body next to yours, holding you as you slept. You were still upset with him but also understood where he was coming from. In a matter of short weeks, you’d gotten to know Dave and knew that he’d never intentionally hurt you unless you asked for it.

Having found out the truth about him had not made you fear him; in fact, it made you even hotter for him. You also dreamt that Dave swooped in to save you and whisk you away in your nightmares with Tom. You sighed at that thought as you got up out of bed and into the bathroom. You knew that Carol was due home today but wasn’t sure about the time since you’d been ignoring the world around you for the last 48 or so hours. You were, however, unaware that she had already arrived home two hours prior and currently sat in the master bedroom crying while Dave was hidden away in his office.

You walked into the shower and turned it on, waiting for the room to fill with steam before stepping in and sighing as you felt the hot water cascade down your back. You never wanted to get out, but you knew that you had to face reality sooner or later. After twenty minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom and stopped in your tracks. The window on the other side of your room was open, and a breeze came in, but you knew that you’d left it closed when you went into the bathroom. You were sure of it. You clutched your towel to your body as you scanned the room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. You walked over to the window and shut it and then made your way to the walk-in closet and turning on the light, and looking around, still not seeing anyone. You sighed and shook your head.

Probably just being paranoid.

Dave probably came in and opened the window, you thought to yourself as you walked over to where you kept your underwear. As you were about to drop the towel, you felt a presence behind you, and the hairs on the back of your head stood up. As you began to turn, a hand came around to clasp your mouth shut as another one held you restricted your movement.

“Hey baby, miss me?” a voice spoke into your ear as the world went black around you.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[jaskierek]

Wildflowers

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier had been friends for over two decades before Geralt forced them apart. Afterwards, he’d looked everywhere. The bard was nowhere to be found. Not even magic could find him. What had happened to his friend? ao3

--

Eight years into their partnership, Geralt was commissioned to rid a village of a nasty foglet that had taken up residency in a swamp at the centre of the neighbouring forest. The blacksmith, Filip, lived closest to the forest edge and had three young daughters who he feared for. He had collected money from the villagers in order to afford the Witcher’s services and had insisted on showing Geralt the way. He’d said the forest had many low-lying bogs and marshes, especially during this time of year.

Jaskier had been eager to join the Witcher, despite knowing that his outfit would return ruined, yet he’d been relegated to the role of babysitter.

“Come on, Geralt!” He whined, watching the Witcher swing his swords onto his back and collect the moondust he needed.

“No.” Came the simple response. Jaskier huffed.

“Honestly, why can’t Filip hire someone from the village for a night or leave the kids on their own? It’s not like they’re infants, and there’s three of them for goodness’ sake.”

“All of them have yet to reach the age of ten,” Geralt said in that rumbling voice of his as he walked up to the bard, gear on and a vaguely scolding look on his face, “and why hire someone to babysit when we’ve got a lovely and willing nanny here for free?”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped dramatically and he sputtered, trying to get past the offence and form a coherent sentence in response to Geralt’s shit-eating grin.

“You - I - listen here, Witcher - while I am lovely, there is no - how -“

The Witcher simply patted Jaskier on the head a bit harder than necessary, and stepped out of the room Filip had given them to get prepared.

“Ready?” The blacksmith asked. He stood in the doorway dressed in a thick, wool coat, hood over his head and straw-blonde hair peeking out from under his coif. He held a glass lantern in one hand and a sturdy, steel sword in another.

“You won’t need that.” Geralt grumbled, walking towards the man. Filip took what Jaskier knew to be an involuntary step back. The bard still winced. There was still a ways to go in Geralt’s image rehabilitation he was learning.

“I could help.” Filip countered weakly. Jaskier admired the man’s bravery, most tended to let the Witcher do what needed to be done with no care for his return or survival. Jaskier also didn’t doubt that Filip could have been of help. The man stood tall, with rounded shoulders from years of smithing, the thick coat only making him look bigger. He could definitely have been of help if-

“Silver swords kill beasts, your steel won’t do much harm.” Geralt said, walking past and heading to the door. “Better to just stay out of the way.”

Filip paused for a moment.

“Yes, well, I think I’d like to take it. For my own peace of mind.”

Geralt studied the man over his shoulder before seemingly accepting that there was not much else to say on the subject and the two left. Jaskier tapped his foot uncertainly before running to the door and swinging it open.

“Oi! Witcher! I am very much not willing and this is very much not for free! I am expecting compensation!” He yelled out to the shrinking figures.

“Fuck off, Jaskier.” Jaskier could just make out Geralt’s gruff but amused reply through the whipping of the wind. He smiled and returned inside, only to be faced with three pairs of large brown eyes. Startled a little, he smiled tentatively. Unlike their father, all three girls had reddish-brown hair and gentle features.

“You must be Filip’s daughters.” He said in way of greeting. He received an eerily unison blink. “Right uh…you should be in bed.”

“Where’s daddy gone?” The tallest one to the left asked.

“He…he went to go show his friend something.” Jaskier responded, trying not to worry the children.

“That man is a Witcher.”

Jaskier paused, not really knowing what to say and eventually settling on a slow “yes, he is.”

“Daddy’s not friends with Witchers.”

“Well, he is now.”

“But Witchers can’t have friends.”

“Now that’s just not true. Who told you that?” Jaskier asked, a bit peeved. They just blinked again and didn’t respond. “Ok, well, that’s not true because I’m friends with a Witcher.” He huffed, whether or not the friendship was mutual was still a bit in question for him.

The girls stared at him silently and Jaskier was honestly at a loss. He hadn’t had much experience with children, apart from singing the occasional fairy tale or nursery rhyme.

“Would you like me to play you a song?” He asked, fingers twitching to hold his lute.

“No.” They all said monotonously. Alright, really, were all children this difficult? And this…synchronised?

“You really should be going to bed then.”

“Can you paint?” The smallest one asked suddenly. Jaskier frowned at the question, a bit confused.

Thats how Geralt and Filip found him three hours later. Paints and unfinished artworks scattered around the floor and at the centre of it all, a very colourful bard. He sat on the floor, legs spread out as three auburn-haired little girls stood around him, paintbrushes in hand.

Filip laughed loudly. “I just bought them all paints and parchment two days ago.” He commented, taking his coat off.

“You don’t say.” Jaskier responded sarcastically as one of the girls poked at his temple with a green brush. He had rolled up his sleeves and trousers to give them some more space to work and also to avoid as much paint on his clothes as he could. It hadn’t worked very well as evidenced by the many drips and smears on his purple doublet. His face, arms and legs were covered in mostly yellow smudges, with a couple of green and pink accents here and there.

The girls hadn’t reacted much to their father’s return, nor to the intimidating presence of the Witcher. Speaking of, Geralt was currently leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking very entertained. Jaskier tried to communicate with his eyes that he was in dire need of aid, yet the cruel man did nothing but observe the multicoloured bard and the three little girls dancing around him.

“Ok, girls,” Filip said, coming over and kneeling beside them, gently removing a paintbrush from the youngest’s hand, “time to say goodbye and go to bed, hm?”

“Do you like our painting, daddy?” She asked, blinking those big brown eyes at him. They all looked very pleased with their work. Filip’s eyes looked over to Jaskier, giving him a once-over and smiling apologetically.

“Yes, love, it’s gorgeous as always. Now bed?” He tried again, reaching out to the others. Jaskier didn’t know how happy he was at being called an “it” but decided to hold his tongue for now. The brushes were all handed over. They themselves were smeared with paint as well, nowhere near as much as the bard though. He was more canvas than a bard at this point.

Filip told Geralt and Jaskier that he’d wash the girls - and their sheets - tomorrow and that they could have the bath for tonight, both men in desperate need of a wash.

Geralt, in a rare show of mercy, allowed Jaskier to go first. He sat by the wall, listening to the bard complain about how difficult the paint was to scrub off. He couldn’t help but let out an amused huff occasionally, earning a sour look from the bard.

“Oh, how you revel in my misery.” He muttered. Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Now we know that you’re not cut out to be a nanny after all.” Geralt teased.

“All things considered, I think I did an alright job.”

“Jaskier, you’re yellow.”

Being glared at by a wet bard sitting in yellow water was not the most intimidated the Witcher had ever been.

Not long after, Jaskier stepped out of the wooden bath and Geralt stepped in.

The Witcher melted into the tub as Jaskier’s nimble fingers threaded through his hair. Albeit, a bit rougher than usual. He had started using his own soaps and oils on Geralt, leaving his hair soft and shiny. He could tell Geralt liked it, despite his complaints that it left him smelling like rose water and cloves. It was a pleasant scent though.

“Why’d they paint you yellow?” Geralt asked placidly, eyes closed. Jaskier laughed softly.

“I told them what my name meant. I was meant to look like a field of buttercups, I presume.” He replied fondly. Geralt hummed. They bathed in silence for a while until Jaskier said softly; “the second eldest one is called Julia. She told me the name means strength.”

Geralt said nothing, sensing the bard’s mood had changed.

“I had a sister once.” Jaskier continued.  Though surprised, Geralt made no comment. “Her name was Julia.” Silence fell again as Jaskier gently pushed Geralt’s shoulder. The Witcher moved at the pressure, allowing the bard to tilt his head back and rinse his hair off.

“Julka przed samotnością nie odczuwa lęku, bo to dziewczyna pełna wdzięku.” Jaskier said, more to himself than to the Witcher.

“What does it mean?”

“In the face of loneliness, Julka is not afraid,” Jaskier whispered, recalling the old saying, “because she is a girl full of grace.”

Geralt clenched his eyes tighter, not knowing what to say in the face of Jaskier’s gentle grief.

Geralt had stared down that same face of loneliness. Could he say that he’d confronted it fearlessly?

Jaskier ran his fingers through the Witcher’s hair one last time and gave it a hard tug.

“That’s for calling me a nanny again.” He remarked weakly. Geralt opened his eyes, watching Jaskier walk away and change into his night clothes.

The face of loneliness seemed to blur.

Filip allowed them to stay the night and they left early the next day. Geralt was prepping Roach when Filip’s three young girls ran up to him, the one in the middle holding a bag of coin. The blacksmith was crouched in the doorway, watching them with a small smile.

“This is for you.” The one in the centre said very seriously, handing over the payment with an air of importance. Not an ounce of fear showed on any of their faces. Geralt felt vague concern over their survival instincts.

“Er…thank you.” Geralt said awkwardly, taking the money. He was about to stuff it into Roach’s saddle before he thought better of it and placed it gently into his breast pocket, patting it to reassure the girl that he’d keep it safe. She smiled brightly at him and the three of them blinked at the same time. Geralt could only blink in return, not knowing where to go from there.

“Goodbye, Jaskier’s friend!” They announced and scurried off. Jaskier was just coming out of the house as they ran past, giggling. He jumped out of the way with a  yelp, eyes following them bemusedly. Looking back to Geralt, he raised a brow. The Witcher simply shrugged. Jaskier laughed.

No, loneliness did not feel as present anymore.

—

Eleven years into their familiarity, Jaskier asked a question.

“I wonder what it feels like to die.”

Geralt had sensed his miserable mood all day. He’d been quiet and he hadn’t touched his lute or hummed a melody and strangest of all, he’d done what Geralt had told him. He’d stayed at the camp when Geralt had taken a contract to get rid of a wild boar and he’d collected firewood with no complaints when told.

Geralt sensed Jaskier’s unhappiness, he knew something was wrong, yet he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. The very fact that he wanted to help, instead of revelling in the silence, came as a surprise. Jaskier’s statement was even more of a surprise. The casual way he said it jarred with the reality that this was the first thing Jaskier had said in hours.

They stared at each other from across the fire between them. Jaskier’s cornflower eyes lustreless and not expectant of an answer.

“I know what it feels like.” Geralt responded, own voice gruff from disuse. He could tell that he’d startled the bard. Jaskier’s blue eyes suddenly cleared and glinted with concern.

“How…how do you know what it feels like to die?” Jaskier asked and Geralt was surprised by the emotion behind his words.

“There are many ways to die, bard.”

Jaskier frowned.

“How do you know what it feels like to die, Geralt?” Jaskier pressed.

“I do not know what death feels like, but I am familiar with the journey.”

Geralt didn’t know whether he was skirting around the question on purpose. The initial response to Jaskier’s statement of a question had come unbidden and honest. Now he could feel heat under his skin and an urge to sneer and turn tail. He couldn’t do that though, not now, not with Jaskier as he’s been all day.

“Geralt, you-“

“Jaskier,” He cut him off, then stopped himself. He took a breath, “I can’t imagine a Witcher who isn’t familiar with the experience.” Jaskier shut his mouth and remained silent, an unspoken offer to continue. Geralt accepted the moment of quiet, taking the opportunity to arrange his thoughts and suppress the grief that had suddenly swelled in him.

“When boys were recruited to become Witchers, they underwent mutations that most did not survive.” Jaskier nodded, this Geralt had told him before, “They put elixirs, poisons and mutagens into our tea for days beforehand and when we were immobilised, they injected them directly into our veins. Most who did not die immediately, died by the third day. Those who did not die by the third day, went mad from the pain -“

Geralt stopped, hesitating, eyes drifting to the writhing flames between them.

He remembered their glassy eyes, unseeing. Nothing existed but their agony. They’d scream themselves hoarse, shredding vocal chords and vomiting out blood. He knew that he must’ve been the same but he could not remember anything he did while undergoing the mutations. Nothing existed, nothing mattered, but the torment.

Geralt looked back at Jaskier, who’s gaze remained strong and level, though sad.

“After we went mad with pain, they injected us again. We were all restrained, of course, otherwise we would have torn our skin off to find some relief. This round of mutagens induced seizures, hallucinations, and in our weakened state, our body had to fight the viruses. On the seventh day, three out of ten boys woke with cat eyes, the rest were dead.”

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment.

“I did not…I woke up with human eyes. The mutagens hadn’t worked on me to the extent they had worked on the others. I was uniquely resistant.” The words sounded bitter. “They gave me a couple of extra rounds and that’s why you won’t ever find another white wolf, bard.”

Jaskier remained silent. Geralt saw tears had slipped down his face, the reflection of the fire turning them gold. Geralt couldn’t stand the thought of tears being spilled for him but he stayed quiet, he found he had no more words to give.

“That’s not dying.” Jaskier finally said, voice unwavering through the tears. “That’s not dying. That’s torture. That’s something that no one should go through, let alone a child. You don’t know what it’s like to die, Geralt, and you won’t know for a long time to come.”

Geralt didn’t know who he was trying to convince.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Jaskier,” The Witcher tried to make his tone gentle, “Witchers don’t retire. I know what it’s like to bleed out. That is likely my fate.” Jaskier flinched and looked down at his hands, clenched around each other, knuckles white. Golden tears slipped between his fingers.

“What does it feel like to bleed out?” He whispered so quietly that Geralt wouldn’t have heard him had he not been what he was. He frowned, but complied.

“You’re thirsty and your tongue feels swollen. Your vision becomes distorted and blurry. You feel a numbness as your head pounds with pressure. You can’t stand for long, so you’re left bleeding out on the ground, trembling and sweating, feeling like you’re going to vomit.” Jaskier’s shoulders were trembling. Geralt couldn’t stop. “You feel like you just want to rest your head forever.”

Finally, Jaskier broke, a sob breaking out past his lips, only for more to follow. It felt like the whole day had been building to this breaking point and Geralt itched to hold him. Let Jaskier release all that had been welling inside him. Geralt stayed, staring at him through the fire, sure that his own grief was showing.

“Geralt?” Came Jaskier’s small voice, head finally rising to look at Geralt. His eyes were red and tears fell freely.

“Yes?”

“Has this happened since we’ve met?”

A pause.

“Once.”

“You didn’t tell me.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, yet it sounded hurt.

Geralt suddenly felt guilty. He hadn’t thought it information that Jaskier needed, or wanted, to know. He’d clearly been healed and the next time they had run into each other had been months after the incident. Geralt himself hadn’t thought much of it. Yet now he felt guilty, it felt as if he had withheld something from the bard. He didn’t know why the thought of him keeping secrets from the man sparked a pain in his chest. He couldn’t stand to look at the hurt in those blue eyes so he looked away.

“I understand why you didn’t, Geralt, I don’t blame you…just - just please -“ the bard’s voice broke. He took a moment to breath in, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Please tell me, whether I’m around to help or not. I can’t - I can’t be a part of your life and not know. I -“

“Okay, I will.” Amber eyes locked with blue, reflecting the same flame. They gazed at each other for a time. Then, the bard rose on unsteady feet, rounding the fire and sitting beside the Witcher.

“I meant what I said. You won’t know death for a long time, dear friend. You will live for a good while yet.” He stated with no room for argument. Geralt couldn’t help but smile.

“Does destiny will it?”

“No,” said his friend, “I do.”

And so they sat for the rest of the evening. Golden eyes and golden tears.

—

Fourteen years into their friendship, there was a meadow.

It was spring and the meadow was blanketed by buttercups and dandelions and daisies and wild lupine. It was a messy quilt of colours that beckoned the bard forwards. The Witcher had taken notice of Jaskier’s love for spring, he’d taken note of a lot of things. He watched Jaskier run into the field, voice bubbling with laughter.

“Geralt look at this! It’s exquisite! We have to break here.” He was grinning at Geralt in his faded blue doublet. Geralt ached at that smile. He reluctantly agreed. How could he not?

That’s how they’d spent an all too rare afternoon lying on a sunny patch of grass. Geralt listening to the bard talk and hum, feeling the gentle heat from the sun-warmed ground seep in through his clothes, and when he opened his eyes he watched. He watched birds flit between trees and leaves shuffle in the breeze. He watched the bard blow a dandelion, blue eyes following the fluff as it glided through the air. Then those blue eyes turned to him and Jaskier smiled.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to learn, dear friend?” Suspecting another long Jaskier ramble, Geralt closed his eyes and hummed noncommittally. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to braid a flower garland.”

“Hmm, you don’t already know?” What with Jaskier’s love for spring, Geralt would have assumed that something as simple as making a flower crown would have easily found its way into the bard’s skill set.

“I suppose I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“Hm.” Geralt responded, mulling it over. They lapsed into a calm silence, well as much of a silence as one can get with a humming bard collecting flowers.

It was noon and the sun was overhead, its brightness filtering through his eyelids.

The humming stopped and he heard an excited “Geralt?”

“What, Jaskier?” He sighed.

“Teach me how to make a wreath.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you grumpy Witcher.”

“No.”

“But just look at these beautiful blossoms, it’d be such a shame not to put them to use.”

“Flowers have no use to anyone other than bees. Unless you’ve found some verbena or white myrtle.”

“How cynical of you, I can hardly believe it.” Geralt snorted at that. “Flowers have many uses, some of which I will detail to you now.”

“Please don’t-”

“Flowers are used for beautiful arrangements, placed at the centre of dinner tables or on mantelpieces, for magnificent perfumes that attract even the most stoic, and they create the most darling garlands, of which I am dying to learn the craft and am imploring my dear friend to teach me.”

Geralt groaned and opened his eyes to glare at the bard who was grinning cheekily at him.

“You are a pain in my ass, bard.” He acquiesced, knowing that Jaskier would take it as the acceptance that it is.

Sitting upright, he saw that Jaskier had already collected a bundle of wildflowers. Cornflowers and daisies and a myriad of others lay between them as they sat crosslegged, facing each other. Geralt’s hand immediately drifted to the cornflower nearest to him.

“It’s easier when you have a circle of string to wrap the stems around,” Geralt began, glancing back up at the sun-lit blue eyes looking right back at him, “but we’ve no string to spare. So once you’ve picked your starting flower, you pick another and wrap the stem a way’s down the stem of your first. Then you pick a third and wrap it around the stems of the first two.”

“A bit like braiding.”

“More like weaving,” Geralt explained, already a couple of flowers down his chain, “and then you keep adding more.”

Quiet settled between them once more. Geralt looked up every so often to check the bard’s progress, watching his nimble fingers weave his crown of flowers, rarely faulting. His eyes would wander up to Jaskier’s face, the bard’s brows frowning in concentration. The Witcher allowed himself a small smile. Jaskier had once told Geralt to alert him whenever he’d do this, hating the thought of wrinkles between his brows. Geralt of course never did. After all, it wasn’t his job to look out for the bard’s skin when it wasn’t being threatened by beasts or cuckolded spouses.

Geralt finished his garland first, realising that it consisted mostly of blue cornflowers and yellow dandelions and buttercups, broken up occasionally by reds.

“Complementary colours.”

“Hm?” Geralt asked, looking up at the bard.

“Yellow and blue. They complement each other. Honestly, Geralt, it’s simple colour theory.”

Geralt levelled him an unamused look, sending him back to work. Not long after, he watched the finishings of Jaskier’s own crown. An eager gaze slid up to Geralt’s face, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“No.” Came Geralt’s instant response.

“Please Geralt.” Jaskier whined. “No one’s here, your reputation is safe.” Geralt grunted, scowling at the bard whose big, blue eyes were pleading with him. With a sigh he reluctantly agreed. How could he not?

Jaskier’s own wreath was more varied than Geralt’s, with white daisies and purple aster and multicoloured poppies. Geralt let Jaskier shuffle closer, raising himself up on his knees so he could crown his Witcher in blossoms. Geralt watched his delighted face as he arranged the flowers just right, fingers grazing and pushing back the Witcher’s white hair. Geralt resisted the urge to lean into the touch. The gentle hands fell to his shoulders, warm gaze falling to look into yellow eyes.

“I’d write a song about this, a Witcher in a flower crown, if I didn’t think it’d be very unpopular.”

Geralt growled, glaring up at him.

“Ah, yes, and also because you’d gut me on the spot.” Jaskier added on. “I must say though, you look very dashing.”

Geralt didn’t say anything to that. He continued to stare up at the bard, glad that the man was happy, and content to be in his presence in a rare moment of peace.

“Now, my dear, I must wear yours.” Jaskier said. Geralt blinked then looked down at the wreath in his hands. Jaskier sat back, awaiting his floral coronation. Geralt smiled softly as he placed the crown on Jaskier’s head. It was a bit big for the bard’s head and pushed his fringe further into his eyes as it slipped down his head slightly. Snorting, Geralt pushed the brown hair from Jaskier’s face, fingers brushing his cheek as he pulled back. He found himself longing to touch him again but pulled away at the look of wonder in the bard’s eyes.

Jaskier went on to make another garland for Roach, making a show of crowning her “Lady of the Meadowland”. It was all very ridiculous so Geralt closed his eyes again and lay back onto the sun-warmed grass. He heard Jaskier amble over, felt his presence as he lay beside him with a deep sigh.

Geralt cracked an eye open to look at him. His eyes were closed. The sun turned his brown hair bronze, blue and yellow petals resting there crookedly. Geralt couldn’t help but think that Jaskier belonged here.

He belonged among the sun and the wildflowers.

—

Sixteen years into whatever the fuck they were and Geralt had been hired to kill a Griffin.

Fucking griffins and their fucking talons.

Geralt felt the ground pull at him magnetically.

He’d lost a lot of blood.

He stumbled to the ground.

He would have been content to press his feverish face into the cool, damp grass and simply lay there, if it hadn’t been for a single thought in his head.

Jaskier.

“Please tell me, whether I’m around to help or not.”

Fuck.

He pushed himself up shakily, a stab of pain pierced through the pressure in his head. He tried blinking past the faded edges of his vision and the spots floating between the trees like black will o’ the wisps.

He stumbled forward, hands pressed to his stomach. They didn’t do much to stop the heavy flow of blood gushing out of him. His fingers were numb but the rest of him was warm, so warm. He had to make it back, he couldn’t die without seeing Jaskier one more time. He couldn’t die here alone.

The face of loneliness came into focus amidst the blurry forest.

Somehow he made it back to the camp. Jaskier’s back was to him. He was stroking Roach’s snout, singing to her softly. It was a lullaby Jaskier sang whenever either of them couldn’t sleep. Geralt smiled in relief, the pressure in is head lifting slightly at the familiar sound.

“Jaskier.” The bards name fell out of him like a breath. Finally, he let the ground pull him down.

He woke up again in rather large bed, head cushioned on a feather pillow. Looking around he saw a glass of water on the desk in the corner, a painting of a long-bearded, angry-looking man on the wall across from him and a silk sheet covering him up to his bare chest. He frowned. This was not the typical establishment he was accustomed to.

Shifting slightly, he felt a weight on his arm. Confused, he looked to the right to find a mess of brown hair resting on his bicep. Geralt blinked, eyes widening. Jaskier was clearly asleep, curled around his side, head on his arm and hand resting in Geralt’s loose fingers. The Witcher suddenly felt warm and couldn’t help but tighten his hand around the bard’s.

While closing his hand, he involuntarily closed his other one, feeling something hard and cool under his fingers. Lifting it to his face, he saw that it was actually a stone, vaguely triangular in shape, with a wonky hole in the middle. What was strangest however, were the smudgy yellow flowers that had been painted around the hole. He assumed they were flowers as he could just make out some petals and wobbly, green stems.

Putting the mystery aside for a moment, he placed the stone down on the bed beside him. Removing his covers gently so as not to wake Jaskier, Geralt felt along his bandaged belly. The pain wasn’t too bad, more of an ache than anything and that could’ve simply been from the blood loss.

He wondered where they were. Their camp hadn’t been too far from a town, but that meant that Jaskier had somehow lifted him onto Roach and galloped through the forest and into town in search of a healer. Geralt knew that the bard was strong, muscle lined his arms and legs, tightened his stomach when he stepped into cold water. Almost two decades of joining Geralt on the path had given him a rather large build. Nevertheless, a limp Witcher was no easy feat to lift, especially onto a horse.

He felt Jaskier stir beside him. His head was still towards him but he could tell he’d opened his eyes because he promptly covered the Witcher back up with the silk cover he’d peeled off earlier. Geralt shifted and suddenly big, blue eyes were looking up at him. From this angle, he could see that the bard’s feet had been hanging off the edge of the bed from his position on Geralt’s arm.

“Geralt!” He exclaimed, smiling brightly. “You’re awake.” Geralt gave a soft grunt in response. “How are you feeling?” Jaskier asked, sitting up. He realised he was still holding onto Jaskier’s hand, so he let it go reluctantly, allowing the bard to pull it out of his grip.

“Like I lost most of my blood.”

“Ha ha.” Jaskier said humourlessly. Geralt sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked finally. He knew Jaskier was upset but he didn’t know what kind of upset it was. Angry? Sad? Annoyed?

“I was,” Jaskier began. Geralt’s jaw tightened and Jaskier grasped his hand comfortingly. “But then I realised that I had no reason to be upset with you, I think my feelings of fear and concern got a bit muddled. Geralt, I was fucking terrified.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, it was just…a lot.” Geralt winced and looked back to the bard. He was looking at their joined hands, blue eyes hazy and far away. Geralt didn’t know what he was seeing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He gave Jaskier’s hand a tight squeeze, bringing him back. Jaskier smiled at him sheepishly.

“Were you surprised to wake up?” The bard asked. Geralt thought for a moment.

“No.”

“No?”

Geralt raised a brow, not entirely knowing what Jaskier wanted him to say. No, he wasn’t surprised. His only thought had been Jaskier. That he wanted to see him again. He wasn’t thinking much of being healed or waking later. Yet now that he thought about it, there wasn’t much doubt in him that Jaskier would help him in whatever way he could.

A thought came into Geralt’s mind.

“What’s this?” He asked, raising the painted stone. A blush tinged Jaskier’s cheeks pink.

“Ah…it’s a - it’s a hagstone.”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I see that, why was it in my hand and why is it covered in flowers?”

“Well, if you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.” Jaskier said pettishly, reaching for it. Geralt pulled it out of his reach.

“No, I want it.” Geralt said, grinning. Jaskier dropped his hand and huffed, looking away.

“Remember when you left me to babysit those three girls a couple of years ago?”

Geralt blinked, vaguely recalling three sets off big brown eyes.

“They painted you yellow.”

“They painted buttercups, just…on me.”

“They painted you yellow.”

“Yes, okay, thank you.” Jaskier sighed, rolling his eyes. “The hagstone dropped out of my pocket and they…painted that too.” He smiled sheepishly.

That was nearly a decade ago. Geralt couldn’t believe he’d held onto it for that long. He pulled it closer so he could examine it genuinely. He could make out the smudgy, yellow petals attached to green stems. They were dotted around the stone, growing in a cluster. The yellow paint had remained fairly unfaded. Geralt rubbed his thumb over the stone.

“You can keep it if you want.” Jaskier said. Geralt turned to find him already looking at him, eyebrow raised and smiling. The look of sincerity on the bard’s face had Geralt looking away.

“Why did you put it in my hand?”

“They’re for protection and healing. Surely you know that.”

Geralt knew what they were for, theoretically. The protective powers of witch stones were a myth though, just humans placing undue importance on an unusual rock. In reality, it was just that. A rock. One that had been eroded by water or animals. Geralt didn’t say anything though.

He didn’t know if he could say anything. Jaskier had carried this stone with him for a decade, maybe more, hoping for protection and now he was giving it to him. A Witcher who, by all appearances, didn’t want nor need luck. The bottom line was that the bard wanted him safe and Geralt had absolutely no way of dealing with that.

“They’re also used to keep witches away,” Jaskier continued, “useful incase we ever cross paths with Yennefer again.”

Geralt snorted.

“She’s a sorceress.” He countered

“And I’m a musician. It doesn’t mean I’m not also a bard.” Jaskier sniffed disdainfully. He pushed himself up the bed so he was leaning against the headboard and sitting next to Geralt. He continued to talk, allowing the Witcher to simply listen and think about how close their hands were between them.

—

Twenty two years since they met.

The wind bit at him, seeking to push him off his feet as he looked down at the snarling Witcher.

“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you shovelling it?”

“That’s not fair.” He couldn’t help protesting weakly.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.” Geralt gritted out between clenched teeth, amber eyes burning with emotion, he was practically shaking with it.  

Jaskier stood and watched as the Witcher turned and stormed further away from him. Tension and aggression written into the way Geralt’s shoulders tensed, fists tight, arms loose, ready to attack. Jaskier had seen Geralt like this before, more times than he could count, but it had never been directed at him. No matter how many times he irritated the Witcher or inadvertently gotten them into trouble, Geralt never had more for him than a hard glare and some frustrated shouts.

This was different. This felt final. This felt like the end. The inevitable conclusion to his tragic love story because fuck him, he’d fallen in love with a man sworn to someone else.

“Right, uh,” Jaskier managed to get out, suddenly finding it difficult to breath, “right, then,” he tried again, looking away, eyes blinking rapidly, “I’ll - I’ll go get the rest of the story from the others.” He turned and walked away, his attempt at casualness flimsy and transparent.

While Geralt berated destiny, fought against it and ignored it wholeheartedly, Jaskier accepted his fate because he had always known it was coming.

But, damn, did it hurt.

He didn’t get the rest of the story.

He stuffed all of his belongings into a bag, slung his lute over his shoulder, gave Roach one last, teary-eyed hug and ran. Geralt had walked away from him, both physically and metaphorically, and now Jaskier needed as much space between them as possible. He ran down the mountain, tripping on uneven paths and scratching his hands bloody. The burn in his lungs and chest felt poetic.

In the last two decades of his life, he and Geralt had always found their way back to each other after weeks or months apart. Sure, he’d keep an ear out for news of a Witcher but most of the time, Melitele save him, it had been a gods-honest accident. The romantic that he is believed it to be fate, and perhaps it was, but he knew now that it wasn’t the kind sort.

Fate was cruel and maleficent, making him believe that their hearts were intertwined when in reality it had been a ploy to torture them both in the end. Destiny left Jaskier heartbroken and Geralt with a life he didn’t want.

—

Some part of his mind registered Jaskier walking away.

Most of it was focused on containing the pain.

He had felt it slowly bloom in his chest at Yennefer’s weak “that’s why we can’t escape each other?” Anguish and bitterness in her voice. From there it had unfurled and spread throughout his body, the emotion burning him from the inside.

His being was now solely fixated on not letting it spread further.

Again, some part of him registered that it already had, it had spread to the bard, it had lashed out at him.

He felt like a flaming whip pulled taught. He felt in in his shoulders, his fists, his jaw.

He breathed in deeply.

His eyes were wet. He tried focusing them on the green valley below.

He breathed out and sunk to his knees.

He waited for the rushing noise in his head to stop.

His cheeks were wet.

He turned around. Yennefer was gone. Jaskier too.

So were their things when he returned to camp.

He breathed in and wailed.

—

The world was dull to him. The trees were not as green. The shades of blue across cornflower petals didn’t look the same anymore.

The world was quiet to him. Too quiet. Something was missing.

Never did he think the world would be dull and quiet. It had always been the opposite, too much, too loud.

He missed Jaskier desperately.

He hadn’t found him again since the mountain.

He could tell Roach missed him too.

Snippets of songs and melodies that had Jaskier’s mark drifted here and there. They were never him. How strange it was to hear others recount his own tales when he had grown so used to Jaskier being the only one.

For the first six months, he’d kept an ear out for any gossip of the famous bard but he had always seemed to arrive just a few days behind. Two months later and the chatter had dried up. No one had seen the bard, no one sang any new songs of his. He had searched the continent, gone to the coast, gone to Jaskier’s own town and found no sign of him.

It was like he had ceased to exist and so, Geralt’s world was dull and quiet.

The face of loneliness had never been clearer.

After those first eight months, he’d also started sleeping poorly.

Before, he’d been a light sleeper, ready to jump out of his bedroll fully aware and ready to defend. It came with being a Witcher. Although, admittedly, the nights spent in inns, on a relatively soft mattress, with a sleep-warm bard next to him had left him sleeping a bit deeper, waking a bit dazed.

Yet after those eight months, he’d slept restlessly. He’d dream of a weeping willow, drooping sadly. He’d dream of an open field and oddly wake up feeling caged.

When he himself found no sign of the bard, he’d gone to one of the few people he trusted, Triss Merigold. He had given her an old undershirt that Jaskier had forgotten to take with him. He made her try for three days before she had finally said “I really am sorry, Geralt, but truly, I can find no sign of your friend.” Geralt took the soft material back. “I fear he’s -“

“Don’t.” Whatever look he’d had on his face made her snap her mouth shut. Dark eyes looked at him with pity as he had turned, dropped some coin and left.

He’d go to Yennefer next.

“Geralt,” she greeted tensely, “didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

Geralt had found Yennefer a few months after the dragon contract. They’d agreed that though they cared for each other deeply, it was best for them to have space, to move on. Geralt hoped desperately that one day they would become friends. Yennefer, though difficult and battle-hardened, remained fair and kind, one of the only people with whom Geralt shared easy conversation.

There was a longing between them, one that both knew was not falsified by the djinn. Neither knew what sort of longing they felt. One of friendship, companionship, understanding? Time and space would let them learn.

“I know,” He muttered apologetically, “I need your help.”

“You look awful.” She simply responded. Geralt winced. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

The Witcher opted for silence. He knew that she had heard him and knew that she was studying him, pondering his request.

“What do you need?” She asked finally, tone not one of acceptance but of curiosity.

“Jaskier.” The word came out sounding more distressed than he had intended. It was harder to maintain a mask through sleep deprivation. Yennefer’s expression briefly shifted to one of concern.

“What happened?”

Geralt’s throat suddenly felt compressed. Those two words somehow confirming that something had happened. Something had to have happened if he and Triss couldn’t find him.

Fear was a terrifying emotion because he truly didn’t know what he would do to end it.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t find him and neither can Triss.” Geralt pulled out the same shirt he had given to the other sorceress, gripping the folded fabric tightly in his hands. He looked up at Yennefer to find her looking right back with a sort of unease. “Please,” he said, offering the garment to her, “track him if you can.”

She stared at the shirt apprehensively, gaze snapping up to Geralt’s, looking for something. Finally, she sighed and turned to walk over to a large bookshelf, pulling out a thick, yellow-paged tome that had clearly not been removed for a good while.

“You’re lucky night is falling,” she said, stepping outside, not waiting for Geralt to follow. He did. “If regular tracking didn’t work, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” She walked to the middle of her large garden, sitting cross-legged in the grass, wine-coloured dress pooling around her. Geralt approached, ready to be told off and to step back, yet Yennefer said nothing as he sat down across from her.

The sorceress flipped the tome open to the centre, each side resting on a knee. Each side also being a couple inches thick. Tucked into the middle, between the two pages was a thin, silver geometrical compass. Yennefer lifted it with an elegant hand and placed it over one of the many configurations on the page. Geralt’s limited knowledge allowed him to surmise that they were astronomical. He looked up to the sky and the stars that he only knew to use for navigation.

“The shirt.” Yennefer said sharply, snapping his gaze back down to her and her outstretched hand. Shirt in one hand, compass in the other and tome on her lap, she began to speak. It was some variation of Elder. Geralt, only knowing the basics of the root language, was left clueless as the space above the book began to glow.

The light transformed the yellowed pages gold, illuminating Yennefer’s perfect features and making her look all the part of the powerful mage he knew she was. She dropped the shirt on the grass between them. Violet eyes looked up to the stars, compass travelling across the golden pages of the book. She flipped back and forth between the pages, her eyes shooting between stars. The compass twisted in complicated circular motions across configurations.

The light began to die slowly, Yennefer’s words slowing to a stop as she closed her eyes, clearly disappointed. Geralt’s stomach dropped and he felt like he might throw up the paltry dinner he’d had a few hours earlier.

“Yennefer, please -“

“I’m not done yet, Geralt.” She responded sharply before taking a breath, “I need something personal to him, something with an emotional connection. I may not be able to find his physical body,” because he may be dead was left unsaid “but I can perhaps find his spirit.”

Geralt tried to keep the devastation off his face at the implication.

An emotional connection. He knew immediately what to give her. A small pocket in the side of his leather armour held a painted witch stone. He gently pulled it out, rubbing his thumb over the messy petals of the buttercups. Yennefer didn’t comment on the item, though she looked at him with pinched brows. He placed the stone in the sorceress’ outstretched palm.

The golden light returned and Geralt watched as the sorceress studied the stars, measuring out constellations and distances in her book. Geralt had never been one for religion but he prayed, prayed for something.

Again, the light faded and Yennefer looked to him with a frown.

—

He’d been looking for tracks in the large forested area Yennefer had pointed him to. He’d been looking for two days and nothing had been found.

Honestly, he didn’t know what he was looking for. Yennefer had been unable to find his body but had found his spirit? Were they no longer attached? Geralt’s mind had been filtering through the different options of what that could mean, but even Yennefer didn’t know what to say. The thought that he might be dead was an unwelcome one in his mind.

It had recently rained and the ground squelched and shifted under Geralt’s boots. Most of the tracks had been washed away by the rain. Geralt lead Roach through the trees, eyes catching on imprints in the ground and broken shrub twigs. All signs indicating animal presence rather than human.

The forest was familiar to the Witcher, he’d been here before. He didn’t think much of it, he’d been to most places on the continent, the Path taking him wherever he needed to be. Yet when he tried to recall the memory tied to this place, it was not one of necessity or danger.  He couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Giving up on the meagre prints, he let the memory lead him. His feet found a forgotten path. Boots had flattened the earth so compactly, it was likely to last a long time. But it was littered with leaves and branches, clearly not trod on for a long while. He remembered the path, it had not looked so different the first time he had found it. It had soothed him that though this forest may once have been peopled, it was unlikely that they’d run into trouble.

They. He hadn’t been alone in the memory.

Vague and distant chatter tugged him forward, the line between reality and recollection blurring. He let go of Roach’s reins, trusting her to follow. He surged through the trees, pushing aside branches. Sunlight and grass filtered through the trees.

Spring.

Buttercups, dandelions, daisies, cornflowers.

A laugh ringing in his ears.

“Geralt look at this! It’s exquisite! We have to break here.”

The Witcher burst through the line of trees and froze. A field of green grass. It was familiar, but not just from the memory. A shiver down the back of his neck. Dread tightened his chest. His eyes landed on a weeping willow, its leaves pale. He didn’t remember it being here the last time.

Uneasily, he made his way towards it. It sagged so low that Geralt could not quite make out its bark. The pale leaves almost sparkled in the sun from the wetness of the leaves.

The Witcher crouched lower as he got closer, seeing a body through the drooping leaves. His hand hovered over his sword. He stopped before the wall of pallid green. The person behind had not moved, clearly unaware of his presence. He reached a hand out and pulled the leaves away, one hand still on the pommel of his sword.

His eyes landed on the man sitting on the damp grass, leaning back against the tree.

Geralt felt like the air had been punched out of him, body becoming immediately slack.

Wide shoulders. Soft, brown hair. Blue, inquisitive eyes.

“Fuck-“ the word came out sounding more like a sob than anything else, “Jaskier”.

Geralt took two steps forward and collapsed on his knees.  

“Jaskier.” He reached out to touch him, to feel him warm and safe.

He felt nothing. His fingers slipped through.

A shimmer and a blur and the bark of a willow tree.

[murdershegoat]

(inspired by this // on ao3 // ko-fi)

she’s had the voice in her head for as long as she can remember

well, it’s not exactly a voice, more just like a really strong, disembodied feelings that echoes loudly in her head and body. like, it’s not her gut feelings, it’s an outside force and it’s loud and sometimes scary.

so whatever she calls it a voice when she’s explaining it to others.

this voice, it guides her decision making. it’s not an exact science (yet) but if she thinks in her head ‘i’m gonna go get ice-cream’ the voice will either say WARMER or it’ll say COLDER

well, it won’t say it because it’s not a voice. it’s more like this disembodied feeling feels like it’s saying WARMER or COLDER and she’ll physically feel it as well.

if she’s supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden warmth

if she’s not supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden chill

she doesn’t know why the voice makes the decisions it does, but she has to assume that it’s leading her towards something, towards success or whatever

at the very least, she has to believe that it’s trying to keep her alive. it’s a survival thing. whatever it is, it’s kept her alive for 26 years and counting.

and though it keeps her alive, it doesn’t always save her from pain. the voice tells her kissing veronica sinclair in the horse stables is a warm idea and veronica ended up breaking her heart and humiliated her in front of the whole school.

when she was four, the voice told her to trust lillian. and that’s led to a whole life of pain.

anyway. the voice. 

andrea is the first person she tells about it.

they’re hiking in the amazon during spring break. and, as happens sometimes in life, they come to a diverging path and have to choose. left or right. andrea looks at the compass. ‘it’s not working,’ she says. ‘how fucking convenient,’ lena replies. she sighs and steps to the left path.

‘we’re going left,’ she says emphatically as she feels a familiar warmth roll through her. ‘why?’ andrea asks. ‘i just have a feeling.’

only andrea isn’t swayed by ‘just a feeling.’ she demands more and she refuses to go left until lena finally breaks down and explains the voice

(not a voice.)

‘well what happens if we don’t listen to it??’ andrea asks after a barrage of questions, her analytical mind whirring a mile a minute. lena shrugs, ‘i dunno. i’ve never taken the risk of not listening.’

they go left.

they survive the amazon. the voice is always right.

‘you know,’ andrea says, her head resting against the plane window. ‘my nanny used to tell me stories.’ ‘isn’t that what all nannies do?’ ‘she would tell me stories about people having unexplainable powers or whatever, i don’t remember the details… but i remember her saying that the powers always lead people to the thing they need the most. and it could take months or it could take years but it’s a part of your soul, like, intrinsically in you.’

andrea’s xanax kicks in soon after that and she sleeps for the rest of the plane ride home

lena stays awake the whole flight, wondering what these choices are and what this voice is leading her towards.

the voice leads her through the end of high school and it leads her to MIT (fun fact: she’s never felt a firmer COLDER than she had when she held harvard’s acceptance letter in her hand.)

it really helps her in college. sure, she still makes a lot of what she deems voice-sanctioned mistakes (sleeping with veronica sinclair is at the top of that list) but her grades are stellar and she’s on track for getting her second masters and she has a load of friends.

and then her brother goes insane and tries to kill superman. the sky is red and lena stands in lex’s office overlooking downtown metropolis. ‘join me lena,’ he says. ‘help me and we’ll be unstoppable. we’ve always been a strong family  but believe me, we’ll run this country together one day, i promise you that. all i need you to do is trust me.’ he holds out his hand

for a second, she considers doing it. she doesn’t want to lose her family. i am going to trust my brother. 

the voice says COLDER.

lena listens to the voice. she always listens to the voice.

it’s the first time the voice has made her lose something - someone - as important as lex. it’s the first time she thinks that maybe this voice thing doesn’t know what it’s doing because it’s never hurt her like this before. 

the fallout from lex’s breakdown feels cataclysmic. her friends stop speaking to her, her professors stop calling on her in class. she can’t even work at the library without being harassed.

and to top it all off, she becomes the youngest female ceo of a fortune 500 company. which means board meetings and strategy sessions all while writing a thesis. 

but meeting jack spheer feels like finding a life raft in the middle of a ferocious ocean, keeping her afloat, letting her catch her breath. he’s cute and he’s funny and well-to-do, and he’s the type of person lena knows she should date and possibly marry.

jack is the second person lena tells about the voice. she’s scared because she isn’t sure he’ll believe her, that he’ll drop her like the rest of her friends have.

but jack, bless his heart, just asks a hundred questions. ‘so even things like which sodas to drink?’ ‘the voice doesn’t let me drink soda.’ ‘whoa.’

jack is the first person who’s not veronica sinclair lena tells her other big secret to. they’ve been out drinking and eventually they stumble back to jack’s place and she feels brazen enough to blurt it out while he makes her a grilled cheese sandwich. she doesn’t even have time to wait for the voice’s opinion; the truth just falls out of her, unable to stay contained any longer.

‘i’m gay,’ lena says. ‘and i understand if you don’t agree with that lifestyle, but i’m still the same person i’ve always been and i would like to remain friends with you.’

‘a person with terrible gaydar apparently,’ jack replies. ‘as the kids say, it takes one to know one. i would’ve told you sooner but… i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.’ she surges forward and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. neither of them lets go.

the grilled cheese burns.

‘should we just get chinese instead?’

the voice says WARMER.

she’s scared of starting over in national city, but the voice in her head seems to think it’s a WARMER sort of idea.

so she packs her bags and jack says goodbye to her at the airport and before she knows it, she’s looking down at NC from her pristine white office. the CVs of two assistants she’s interviewed. ‘i’m going to hire jess chin-salva as my PA,’ she murmurs to herself. ‘WARMER,’ says the voice.

when jess tells her two reporters are at the door, the strapping frame of clark kent isn’t whom she is expecting. she also isn’t expecting kara danvers to follow close behind, kara danvers whose smile is much too bright and friendly to work for a hardened journalist, whose blue eyes twinkle with a kindness lena has seldom been gifted by others, whose biceps are clearly visible through the cardigan she wears.

lena doesn’t have a choice to make, and yet for some reason it screams at her. WARMER. WARMER. 

and then it says something new.

WARMEST

the feeling won’t leave lena’s body, and she struggles to focus on the interaction with the journalists, but she thinks she’s managed to tell them the truth. she’s just trying to rebuild her family’s business. she just wants to do good things and make the world a better place. but it’s hard to focus on any of that when her mind and her body feel like they’re on fire.

it only dies down when kara leaves the room, and lena’s pretty sure that there’s something special about that woman.

except maybe there’s just something about the blue eyed women of national city. because later that day lena’s helicopter is shot down and she finds herself being carried to safety by supergirl and the voice goes batshit crazy again.

‘focus on the fact you’re about to die,’ lena tries to tell it, but it doesn’t listen to her. so instead, she doesn’t look away from supergirl’s steady, reassuring gaze until she flies away. and she wonders why supergirl is a ‘WARMEST’.

‘i heard you almost died,’ jack says when he calls her that night. ‘who cares about that?’ she responds, ‘the weirdest thing happened with the voice.’ she tells him of feeling ‘warmest’, of feeling it twice in one day with two different people, of how it refused to go away and occurred without any decisions to make.

‘ok i’m about to share a document with you,’ he says, and lena can hear him typing on his laptop. ‘there, open it.’

it’s a spreadsheet. holy shit.

‘this is every big decision you’ve ever made,’ jack says. ‘there are also some medium sized decisions thrown in, but mostly just the big ones.’ ‘how the hell do you know all this?’ she asks, shocked. ‘why else do you think i’ve been asking you about all this for so long?’ he replies. ‘every time you tell me something the voice says, it’s gone into this spreadsheet. now, i only have limited knowledge of decisions you made before you met me, but i’ve been able to put in a lot of them based on your stories alone. i thought, what better way for you to try and understand this than to put it into words you understand best?’

‘you’re phenomenal,’ lena tells him. ‘i just… i never thought of this. i just assumed it was all some unknowable hippy dippy nonsense.’

‘i mean, it could definitely still be hippy dippy nonsense. but still take a look at it, see if there are any patterns or anything.’

‘i love you, jack.’ ‘too bad i’m gay, huh’

lena sees a lot more of kara and supergirl, though never at the same time. kombucha dates with kara and supergirl swooping in to save her life every now and again. the voice isn’t as overwhelming in their follow up visits, though a pleasant hum of warmth resides low in her being whenever either of them are around. 

maybe, lena thinks, it’s not the voice at all. maybe, she thinks, it’s about time she starts dating again. 

but none of the women she sees bring the same warmth that kara and supergirl do.

the decision data that jack put together doesn’t seem to make much sense either. but she continues to add to it, bit by bit.

and then something weird happens. 

‘you’re getting more potstickers?’ lena laughs. ‘don’t you have any self control?’

‘i’m only human, lena.’

‘i suppose i should believe you.’

COLDER.

COLDER? she’d never gotten a COLDER near kara before. and why? she shouldn’t believe that kara’s human? of course kara’s human! she’s just an awkward, sweet, kind girl from midvale. it’s not like she’s supergirl, for crying out loud!

holy shit

what the fuck

kara’s supergirl?????

kara’s supergirl. it totally makes sense. why hadn’t she seen it before??????? had she been willfully blind to it?

she made a fool out of me, lena thinks. i should hate her. but the voice says COLDER. huh. so hating kara is off the table.

 maybe, she thinks, maybe i knew and i didn’t want to admit it to myself. because clearly kara doesn’t want me to know. and i don’t want to push her into telling me because i don’t want to lose her. i can’t lose her. because i lo---

‘i’m so fucked,’ she tells jack over the phone later that night. ‘kara is supergirl and she doesn’t know that i know and i--’ ‘what is it?’ ‘i think i’m in love with her.’ ‘oh my god FINALLY,’ he yells into the phone. ‘i havent even met kara and i knew you were in love with her. you know she’s all you talk about right? like, you run one of the biggest companies in america and you have a disembodied voice that lives in your head and a million other things going on in your life, and the only thing i’ve heard you talk about for months now is kara danvers.’

‘you did not know’

‘i really did. but im glad you know as well because i can finally present you with my biggest theory on The Voice.’

‘not a voice’

‘remind me what it was that andrea’s aunt or nanny or whoever thought it could be?’

‘that was a million years ago,’ lena says; she hasn’t thought about andrea in ages. she should give her a call. ‘i think it was something about… these types of abilities lead a person to thing they need most in the world.’

‘right. i’ve been doing a lot of new age reading and it hasn’t been pleasant at all and i sort of hated every moment of it, but i think i have some idea of what this could be. it’d explain everything.’

‘well then, what is it?’

‘i don’t think it’s the thing you need most in the world,’ jack says. ‘i think it’s the person you need most in this world.’

‘you mean like-’

‘a soulmate. think about it. somehow every decision that voice has gotten you to make has led you to standing in your office in national city where you met kara for the first time. and what did the voice say when you met kara, completely unprompted?’

‘warmest,’ lena whispers. 

‘exactly. warmest. as in, as warm as can be. because the whole time, the thing this voice has been leading you towards is kara danvers.’

lena’s plan for handling all of these revelations is drinking herself into a stupor. and it’s truly wonderful for the most part.

that is, until she wakes up with a headache and someone pounding their fist on her front door.

‘wHAT,’ she yells as she throws open the door.

‘do you want to explain the voicemails you left me last night?’

oh shit. lena’s hungover brain processes that it’s in fact kara standing at the door. she ushers kara in and shuts the door behind them.

‘to be honest with you,’ lena says as she puts on a pot of coffee, ‘i think i’m still a bit drunk and i definitely dont remember what those messages said.’

you said you know i’m supergirl. you said you’re not angry at me for lying to you--’

‘oh that’s not so bad’

‘-- and you said you have proof we’re soulmates.’

fuck.

‘do you want to explain yourself?’

‘can i drink my coffee first?’

… kara watches her drink her coffee.

‘okay,’ lena says. i’ll explain but you can’t ask any questions til the end. deal?’ kara nods.

the third person lena tells about the voice is kara danvers.

‘my whole life i’ve had this… this sort of voice in my head. and when i have a decision to make in front of me, it says WARMER or it says COLDER. it’s how i’ve made every choice since i was four years old, from the clothes i picked to the type of coffee i drink to the college i went to.’

‘like intuition.’

‘not intuition. fuck. i shouldnt tell you any of this.’

COLDER.

‘well. guess i should tell you about this.’

WARMER

‘it’s not intuition. it’s not a gut feeling. it’s not a part of me. it’s something bigger and otherworldly and it’s been leading me my whole life to something… i can only assume something much bigger and more important than i am. except i also think that the thing it’s been leading me to is you. and you don’t have to believe me at all, and god, you don’t have to believe in soulmates but… but far out, kara. i’m in love with you. i’m so in love with you it’s insane. and if you don’t feel the same way, i understand, but please don’t shut me out. i can live without you being in love with me, but i don’t think i can live without you in my life anymore.’

they stand in silence, lena’s plea still hanging in the air between them.

‘on krypton,’ kara says softly. ‘there’s only one way to know if somebody’s your soulmate or not.’

‘how do they do it?’ lena asks, imagining a blood test or a swab or something.

instead kara takes a step closer to her and she puts her hands on lena’s hips and she presses their foreheads together and she says ‘do you feel it?’

‘what--’

but she feels it. a sort of calm washing over them both. the air stills and lena swears she can hear kara’s heart beating and she feels serenity like she’s never felt it before.

‘wow,’ kara says, and before she can stop herself, lena kisses her softly, barely. but it’s still a kiss.

and she can’t really describe it, but she feels the voice leave her. 

‘i want to kiss you again,’ lena says. but there’s no voice that says warmer or colder. all there is is kara danvers, nodding her head and saying ‘then kiss me.’

lena has many thoughts about soulmates. she thinks if the universe gives you some sort of magical powers, it should also give you an instruction manual for them. she thinks her soulmate is the most perfect soulmate that’s ever been created ever. but this is the real kicker: lena knows that the voice may have led her to kara, but she’s the one who has to make sure she stays there. they have to put in the work together. love isn’t just a magical feeling, it’s building trust and learning to be selfless and letting someone into your life in a multitude of intimate ways. and now that kara’s in her life, in all of her wonderful glory, there’s no way lena will ever let her go.

[socalwriterbee]

Confessions Part 4

Catch up on Confessions

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Marie Castro x Sam Dalton, Jordan Le, Jenny

Rating/Warning: Teen+, Some Adult Language

Word Count: 2,339 +

Song Mention:

You Oughta Know By Alanis Morissette

Si Una Vez By Selena

Summary: After a breakup, Marie seeks her best friend out.

A/N: Songs that were mentioned are in italic. Tried to my best to translate the part of Si Una Vez as best I could.

Tag: @thenannyaffair-fanfics

Characters belong to Pixelberry

********

Marie patiently waited for her friend to respond to her message. If anyone can help make things better it was her best friend.

Jenny squeals as soon as she swings the door open, really finding her best friend standing before her with a new look.

“Marie, how is it possible for you to look like a thousand times better in person?” Jenny hugs her tightly, gently pulling at the ends of her hair, not knowing if she really just a chopped off a good amount of her hair.

“You can stop pulling my hair. I really did cut it.” She laughs at her friend. “Are you gonna let me in? The champagne is waiting.”

Jenny releases her, pushing her to arms length, really taking in her friends new look. Skin tight black pleather pants paired with black Louboutin pumps, a revenge red colored crop top and her newly cut hair.

Jenny drags her by the hand and leads them into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“Don’t kill me Marie, but you didn’t happen to bring any orange juice?” Jenny asks, making her way across the island.

Marie shakes her head at her best friend, she wasn’t surprised Jenny didn’t have anything in her apartment. She had been the one who would stock up the fridge and cabinets with food. If it had been up to Jenny, they would only have vodka in the freezer. One she would bet a good amount of money on that being the only thing in the freezer right now.

“Jenny, do you at least have something to nibble on while we drink?” Marie asks.

She places the two bottles of champagne down on the counter, watching Jenny open and close the cabinets, then moves to the fridge.

“Here put this one in the fridge while I open this one. We’ll just order something to be delivered.” She tells Jenny, handing her one of the bottles.

“I have apples.. well an apple.” Jenny points to her sad looking fruit basket.

“One that seems to be well past being edible. it’s beginning to shrivel up.”

The popping sound of the cork makes Jenny jump, pulling out two glasses and handing them to Marie. After pouring and ordering some food, Marie kicks off her heels and takes her usual spot on the sofa, when one of them is going through a breakup, tucking one leg under the other. Jenny takes the opposite side of the sofa.

“What do we toast too?” Jenny asks.

“The future.”

Marie raises her glass to meet her friends, clinking their glasses together. Jenny eyes her with some concern, wondering what her friend had been through in the last twelve hours or so.

“To the future.”

Jenny takes a good drink of the champagne, while Marie tosses her full glass back, the bubbles tickling the back of her throat, leaving it empty and reaching for the bottle to pour more.

“So Marie, what the hell happened? Wasn’t everything going well between you two?” Jenny asks while tapping her well manicured nails on the fluted glass, impatiently waiting for her to answer.

“Is this situation fit for just drinking champagne? Or do I pull out the Vodka from the freezer?”

“It’s a start. It’ll get the job done.” She gives Jenny a wide grin. “Like I told you, it’s over between me and Sam.”

“How? Why?” Jenny sits up a bit straighter, again waiting for an explanation.

“Sam caught me kissing Jordan.” Marie tosses another glass back. “No.. No..” She wiggles her finger at Jenny “Sam walked in on Jordan kissing me.”

“Why would Jordan do that?”

“He confessed he has feeling for me.”

“No!” Jenny mouths drops open at the revelation.

Marie just nods her head. Last night coming back to her, making her head spin. “That’s not all, he told me Sam was seeing Lana behind my back.”

“That uptight blonde from the house warming party, the mother of one of Mason’s friends?” Jenny asks.

“The one and the same.”

“I’m gonna need you to start from the beginning and everything in between that led you to..to this new look and you chugging champagne like its grape juice.” Her friend said.

Taking a deep breath, Marie began the events of last night from Jordan surprising her at work to him telling her how he feels about her. The moment Sam walked in on them, him storming out, not waiting to hear an explanation of what he saw. It felt like she had been talking for hours, the one break Marie took was to get the other bottle of champagne while Jenny got the food they ordered.

“You need to try this hash..it's amazing.” Jenny hands her the container, as she takes the one Marie had in her hands.

“He just walked away. Left me there standing like a fool. All because he wants space. Because I believe or believed he would cheat on me. But look at how we started, Jen. He was engaged.” Taking a spoonful of the corned beef hash, the different textures from soft to crispy pieces to the exploding flavors of the salty, spiced and sour make her moan in agreement with Jenny.

“Sweetie, don’t get mad at me but.. are you sure he wanted to end things?”

Marie notices a shift in her friend, shaking her head at Jenny. She played Sam’s words again and again last night.

“I’m positive. He wanted to slow things down, wanted space. As far as I know we’re done.”

Jenny stayed silent.

“You don’t understand, wanting to slow things down from a relationship in the dark, a relationship a handful of people knew about. That’s what he meant Jen.” Marie snaps at her.

“Ok.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to..” Marie trails off.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides I got something, that always works.”

The look that appeared on Jenny’s face was a mischievous one, one she knew all too familiar, it was the same one she would give her when Jenny was going through a rough time with a guy.

Getting up from the sofa she walks away, coming back in a few seconds with a full bottle of vodka. She grabs her phone, connecting it to the sound system.

Marie hid her face in the palms of the hands, knowing what was about to come. “Oh no!! no..no..no!” She shook her head.

“yes…yes.. yes” Jenny begins to dance before the music starts. “Come on Marie, this song has gotten us..ok mostly me through breakups.”

The beat of Alanis Morissette’s ‘You oughta Know’ fills the apartment..

An older version of me

Is she perverted like me

Would she go down on you in a theater

Marie began bobbing her head to the beat as the song went on, until she jumps up and stands on top of the couch with Jenny, the both of them singing at the top of their lungs.

And every time I scratch

My nails down someone else’s

Back I hope you feel it

Well can you feel it

Well I’m here to remind you

Of the mess you left when

You went away…You

You..oughta know

As the song comes to an end, adrenaline runs through Marie, ok mostly the alcohol they had been drinking. But at this point it’s what she needed to get every feeling out of her system. Jenny’s breakup playlist continues to play and after finishing the second bottle of champagne, they made it to the bottle of vodka

They didn’t care how loud they were singing or the noise they made from dancing and the things that hit the floor after bumping into them. It was something they did, two best friends trying to help the other navigate through this moment in life.

“There’s a song.. a song.. I want to add..add..yeah” The words coming out of Marie’s mouth a bit slurred.

She grabbed the phone from the coffee table, trying to focus on searching for the song. Swaying back and forth, she jumped with drunken glee once having found it. The Marachi/Cumbia infused ballad came through the speakers, her hips moving to the Cumbia beat.

“Yass.. Get it girl.” Jenny encouraged her as she sat down, taking a little breather.

Marie did her best Selena impression, twisting and doing flamenco moves. She began singing.

Yo, Te di todo mi amor y más

(I gave you all my love and more)

Y tú, No reconoces ni lo que es amar

(And you won’t recognize what it is to love)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, hoy me arrepiento

(If I told you once that I loved you. Today, I regret it)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, no sé lo que pensé, estaba loca

(If I told you once that I loved you. I don’t know what I was thinking, I must’ve been crazy)

Si una vez dije que te amaba

(If I told you that I loved you)

Y que por ti la vida daba

(And that I’d give my life for you)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, no lo vuelvo a hacer

(If I told you that I’d loved you. I won’t do it again)

Ese error es cosa de ayer

(It was an error that was made in the past)

Jenny cheered her on until the end, not knowing what her best friend just sang and danced her heart out too.

After a moment of trying to catch her breath, she watched as Marie fell to her knees and began crying, her body shaking as it released every emotion she had bottled up. The act of trying to be strong came crashing down around her. She went to her and hugged her, whispering that it’ll all be ok.

******

Once she had sobered up somewhat, Marie called an Uber to take her back home, against Jenny’s best efforts to try and make her stay. They had come to an agreement of her moving back in. She wasn’t going to live in a place Sam was paying for besides she couldn’t afford the rent on her salary.

Making her way to her apartment, her vision a bit impaired, she fumbled through her bag for the keys, jingling as they fell to the floor.

“Shit.”

Bending down to get them, she stumbles a bit to the side, balancing herself against the wall before she could trip and fall over her own feet. The vodka and champagne still running through her system, she could make it, once she got up it was only a few more steps, she told herself.

Marie noticed a pair of shoes making their way towards her, her gaze began to travel until they stopped on grey eyes, his lips a thin line. He was reaching down to help her.

“I don’t need your help!” She put a hand out, stopping him before he could touch her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Come on Marie, let me help you up.” Sam voiced calmly but filled with a bit of concern for her well being. “How did you get here? How much have you had to drink? And your hair, it looks..”

“What’s it to you? I’m a bit more sober then I was earlier. I’m perfectly..perfectly fine.”

Marie stood up too quickly and stumbled, she felt Sam wrap an arm around her waist, supporting her weight against his body. Grabbing her keys, he leads them into her apartment.

“Just stand there for a moment while I lock the door. I’ll take you to bed..I mean..uh help you into bed.”

“I’m fine Sam, I’m inside this beautiful penthouse you got for your mistress.” She twirls around, showing him the space around her. “So, you can see your way out. You can stand on the other side of the door to make sure it gets locks.” Marie hiccups, maybe she wasn’t as sober as she thought.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re ok.”

Sam makes his way past her, grabbing her by the wrist and leading her towards the bedroom. Letting her go, he begins tossing pillows off the bed keeping just two. He pulls back the comforter to allow her to crawl in.

“Oh that’s real nice of you Mr. Dalton. Do you do that for all your employees?” Marie asked staring at him as he reaches for her.

“Get into bed, you need to sleep your over-indulgence off. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Marie starts to undress, pulling her top over her head.

“What are you doing?” The words coming out as a raspy whisper from Sam.

Marie stares at the man that left her. She was going to show him what he was going to miss. She began by taking off the heels that had been killing her since putting them back on. She unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, slowly lowering them and stepping out of them. Marie stood there in a see through black lace bralette and matching thong.

She could feel Sam’s burning gaze taking her in. She heard his breathing hitch and a smile came across her lips.

“I’m just getting ready for bed, Mr. Dalton. Just like you said.” She says coyly.

Walking pass him, running her finger tips across his chest. She climbs into bed, the softness of her sheets envelope her semi-naked body.

As she begins to doze off, the side of the bed shifts under her. “What are you doing here?” She asked him again.

She didn’t hear Sam respond, so she kept going.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s over between us.” She yawns as her eyes begin too close. “Sam? Are you still here?”

Marie could feel her back pressing against the side of his leg. Sam caresses the newly cut strands of her hair.

“I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere..” He whispered.

“Can you do one last thing for me?”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it Marie..I’m sorr..”

“Don’t fire Jordan.” She said before her eyelids became too heavy to keep open and slips into a deep slumber.

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

Well, that was cold

I have mod that makes diseases actually dangerous. (actually several of them and they’re all listed here on Pleasant Sims’ modlist)

The first rotation? Everything’s fine. The only one who fell ill was John Burb and he, as a family Sim, was able to soup himself to health in no time.

The second rotation... Ajaj Loner got sick.

With cold.

I was like, “I know flu is pretty dangerous with this mod but cold should be fine, right? I mean, I used to have it four times a year. So glad it’s not flu!”

I thought I was lucky.

I wasn’t.

After Ajaj’s turn ended, he was free to wander around and spread the cold everywhere.

Because they have chemistry and she was on a prowl, I even had Nina Caliente seduce Ajaj. She got the cold but I was like whatever, she’s a strong quasi-alien, running nose for a few days won’t kill her!

How fatally wrong I was I realized during a vacation that Nina went on with her sister and Ajaj. She was just chilling, sleeping in her hotel room, when all of the sudden, Grim Reaper!

You sure, Dina?

Nina was dead. Dead from the cold. And she was pregnant, no less!

I reloaded because it was on a vacation and Nina was the only playable Sim, so I was quite worried what would become of the grave. I managed to get her home and moved Chloe Curious in, so that someone can eventually plead for her. She was lucky the second time around and survived. Chloe got infected but survived as well.

But we had an epidemic on our hands now. Ajaj and Nina have been quite successful generously sharing their cold all across the hood and I failed to keep track of who has it.

Still, I thought it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t understand the scale, I was still thinking that it was just Ajaj, Consort Capp and the Pleasants.

Again, I was wrong.

When I got in the rotation to the Capps (the Capps 1), everyone was infected. I was still optimistic, though, because we were talking about a household where 2/4 Sims are Family and one is a Family Secondary, they can bathe in the soup!

The teens ate their soup and survived.

Consort died that night. He was due to die at the end of their round anyway but because he didn’t do so of old age, his grandchildren received no bonus inheritance.

The only one who gained something from that was Olive Specter who was delighted to see Consort, her crush, perish, so she could finally raise him as a zombie.

Unfortunately I couldn’t find a screenshot of her actually raising him, so here’s at the very least Olive walking menacingly to work.

Anyway, moving onto the Capps again (the Capps 2, Goneril edition), things looked bleak. Goneril was pregnant and she and all the kids were infected. Albany was immediately called to action to generate enough soup but the house devolved into utter chaos. Everybody had their soup but just as they recovered, they got infected again!

Ok, I was thinking, Consort was quite old and fragile. Nina must’ve had the cold for a long time, given she was on a vacation. There’s no way the kids are gonna die on the first day they got infected. They had the soup, so I’ll send them to beds, so they can get a good-night sleep and enough rest.

Nope.

Ariel, a child, died in her sleep.

Nobody was able to get to her in time to plead for her.

While I was contemplating an in-character way of resurrection, Desdemona, a young teen, died in her sleep just about two hours after her sister.

Again, nobody was fast enough.

Luckily, Miranda was already in college and she was roommates with Ophelia Nigmos, who was in possession of a genie lamp she was safeguarding from Olive. Hearing about the tragedy that befell her friend’s family, moved by the death of a little girl and her not much older sister, Ophelia the Family Sim offered Miranda the lamp on the spot.

Miranda rushed home to drop off the lamp and then ran off so she doesn’t get infected. Well, she did anyway but since I haven’t played the college Sims yet, I don’t know of her fate.

Hal made a good use of the lamp. He rolled the wants to resurrect both his sisters and that’s exactly what he did.

He triumphantly finished making the wishes...

And dropped dead.

Another young soul succumbed to cold.

But! Since there was still a wish left and his sisters were back alive, Desdemona swiftly brought him back.

Ariel’s and Hal’s resurrections were perfect.

Desdemona’s was faulty, so her personality got reversed.

But as long as they’re alive and preferably not zombies, everything will do.

The Capps were all cured! Hooray!

Wait. Not all Capps. There was still Regan’s branch and, predictably, they were all infected. And this time, there was no Family Sim in sight.

The only non-infected Sim in the family was a little toddler. The poor, poor child was in for a life-long trauma.

Kent went quick and quiet the first night of their round. Regan fortunately recovered. Cornwall did too. They had a very lucky start of the round all together, I may add. Kent’s tragic death was followed by Regan’s demotion that lead to her subsequent want to quit her job (...and she was the only one who was making any significant money), then Cornwall set the house on fire while cooking breakfast, then he got fired.

Poor thing. First got house-fired, then job-fired.

Regan’s LTW was to reach the top of the Law career, so she got herself a new job there. On her first day, she got promoted!

And she brought home a friend! Sweet!

No... nooooo...

It was Ajaj F*ckin’ Loner.

Both Regan and Cornwall got infected before you could say “act your surname and social-distance, you jerk!”

Cornwall died almost immediately. Unfortunately, Regan was asleep and failed to get up and ambush the Grim Reaper in time.

On the bright side, she recovered!

So I watch her go to work, the nanny arrives to baby-sit the toddler, everything seems to finally have settled down.

But then I spot an unexpected movement in the house.

It’s Titania Summerdream. Who let her in? I have no idea.

It would be quite sweet of her to check on her friend Regan after she lost two family members and to help with her young daughter.

If... if she didn’t have the fricking cold!

Regan returned from work and I rushed to have her send Titania away.

Of damn course she didn’t go before giving the cold to Regan.

Now it was the third time Regan got infected and there were no other family members to take care of the toddler if she dies. It was very suspenseful. I decided to use extreme measures and I teleported Albany in, made him selectable and had him cook the soup.

Instead of that, he proceeded to bicker with Regan.

If he got re-infected, I swear...

Anyway, after a three tries or so, Regan got her soup and Albany was on his merry way away.

What a relief! I sent Regan to sleep, trusting the soup to do its magic. The next morning her needs all looked great! No notification yet but I was sure it’s gonna arrive any second. When suddenly...

Yeap, she died.

Regan Capp died the way she lived. Paying her family’s bills.

I used Simblender again to quickly move in Hal. He was there in time to plead for Regan!

And for the first time in the Capp household, he actually made it! He pleaded!

And... and... lost.

So I had him stay to take care of the toddler until their round was over. Then I moved them both back with Goneril’s branch.

At the very least young Ione, the genius toddler with maxed Logic skill, got something resembling a birthday party with her cousin and his boyfriend Alexander Goth.

Given that Montys had their losses as well, the cold has already taken out much of the adult population of Veronaville.

The only two adults left (not counting fresh elders Albany and Goneril) in Veronaville were in fact the Summerdreams who were extremely lucky and with an abundance of soup, they survived.

To be completely honest, I’m very happy with the mod. I tend to play large hoods and although it tends to be rather tragic, the occasional epidemic of cold trims the population down a bit without me killing anybody off and it gives the game an additional bit of challenge and randomness.

...or maybe I’m just a sh*tty person to my Sims.

Bonus screenshots of the Strangetown cold outbreak:

Vidcund Curious spent two nights sleeping in a chair in his children’s bedroom because he was afraid they’re going to die from the cold in their sleep and wanted to be there to plead for them. In the end it actually happened, he pleaded and managed to save his daughter.

The Smiths had to be unfortunately visited by the Therapist. PT9 died on the day he was supposed to die of old age but hours prior, he became yet another victim of the cold. And it was very unlucky, since it meant no inheritance and by the Watcher, Jenny and their 5 kids could definitely use it. They were completely broke.

But not everything was morbid and tragic!

Lazlo rolled quite the unexpected want to get married to his girlfriend, Cassandra Goth. They weren’t engaged, she wasn’t pregnant, he’s not a Family secondary, and the date they were on wasn’t even in the stage Sims usually roll engagement wants, he simply rolled it out of the blue. And of course I went with it! (Cassandra had recently divorced Don, rolling the wish to remarry almost immediately.)

The only family in the hood that could technically mass-produce medicine so that not everyone is dependent on the soup, the Beakers, of course didn’t. Why would they risk their hides, toying with the Mysterious Disease, when they didn’t have to? Instead, they social-distanced and spent the rotation raking in promotions and taking care of their army of children. (Loki kept rolling wants to get abducted and ARC wasn’t kind to them either. But with Loki being Family secondary and Circe leaving most of the parenting on him anyway, I don’t think they mind.)

Note the alien toddler, the second youngest child. He has 10 Nice points. That’s 4 points more than all 5 of his siblings and his parents combined. He’s gonna have a rough childhood, the poor thing.

Jill Smith managed to get nibbled on by the pack leader just in time, a few days before going to college. She’s thrilled by her new wolf-y powers! And regardless of what her mother says, she knows the fur goes with her school uniform just perfectly!

Rachel Pleasant, the youngest offspring of Daniel that he knows about (the second youngest overall), aged up into a child! And judging by the look on her face, she already knows how much of a mess her family is.

Not even being brought back from the dead made Desdemona Capp immune to the Summerdream charm. Bottom, the young Romance Sim, invited her girlfriend to hang out in their hot tub. It was an afternoon to remember for both of them.

Local ageing general married a successful young athlete, Kristen Loste. Unfortunately for everyone attending the wedding, the bride’s former roommate Chloe Curious decided that flirting with her literally the next interaction after Kristen said, “I do.” was a smart idea. No need to add that the wedding cake was left to rot forgotten, never cut. It was a sad wedding cake but even though it started to stink around two hours after the wedding, it still lasted longer than the marriage.

And far away in La Fiesta Tech, two estranged siblings were talking things out and healing their relationship.

Now I lost this hood (again) and started a new one, so the next gameplay post will probably feature the same characters in completely different circumstances and nothing is going to make sense but... what does anyway?

[aethelar]

This is a love story. Not the usual sort; it doesn’t end when they marry, and it doesn’t end when they divorce, and the they of it isn’t really important. What’s important is the he.

His name is Newt Scamander. He’s born small, loud, with wisps of curly hair that will darken to red-blonde when he’s older. He has an older brother who loves him, a mother who loves the idea of him, and a father who dotes on him when he remembers. It’s not a bad start.

Later, he gains a nanny. He calls her Ayah at first because that’s what his mother called her, but he learns, soon enough, that her name is Bhudi and she smiles when he uses it. He learns a lot from her, picking up new names and new words and new knowledge until his mother scolds him for the foreign accent that’s invading his speech.

They are in India. It’s 1902. His father works for the British Ministry and his mother ships exotic creatures back to England to grace the menageries of the rich and Bhudi shows him a feather and teaches him about the bird it came from. She speaks in Marathi because the Lady Scamander doesn’t like Newt learning English from her, and, privately, she thinks that if the Lady Scamander wants her son to speak like his parents then perhaps his parents should speak to him so he can learn.

At breakfast, Newt stumbles through asking Theseus to pass the dudha instead of the milk, and his father shakes his head and calls him cute. His mother purses her lips. She commands Newt to follow her that day, and the next, and for the rest of the week he trails her heels as she judges how many peacocks she can convince the Lord Malfoy to buy. They aren’t even magical, but they’re pretty, and because of this they are valuable.

Newt frowns at the little brown peahen that’s pecking at the dirt and has no pretty feathers to make her worth anything, and thinks they should be valuable anyway.

His mother finds she likes the idea of Newt trailing her more than the reality, much like she liked the idea of a pair of sons more than the time it took to raise them. He asks too many questions, he calls things by the wrong names, he has too many stories that distract her from her work. She gives him books instead, worthy and important books to improve his English, and a month later Newt sits at the breakfast table and recounts to Theseus how he’d rescued an “exhausted and dispirited monkey” from a rope snare trap.

“Exhausted and dispirited?” His father repeats, laughing. “Did you hear that, Theseus - your brother’s a scholar in the making!”

Newt doesn’t speak for the rest of the meal. He asks Bhudi what he did wrong, and she tells him that people who set traps for monkeys don’t understand why it’s important that they’re set free.

“But why?” Newt asks.

“If you love the monkey’s coat then you want it always in reach,” she says. “If you love the monkey, then you wait for it to come to you.”

“If I were a monkey,” Newt says, “I would rather be an ugly one with a coat no one liked. Then no one would trap me and ship me off to England, and I could stay here forever with you.”

Bhudi laughs and kisses his forehead, but when Newt is ten he has to leave her behind anyway.

He resents England, when he arrives. It’s cold, and the houses are too close and too dark. There are no peacocks, with grand feathered tails or otherwise. There are no monkeys. His grandmothers speak with accents he can’t understand, heavy with Gaelic undertones that his mother sniffs at and asks the children not to copy. But if he cannot talk to them, and his parents are busy, and Theseus is at boarding school, and Bhudi is in India - then who does Newt have left?

“Namaskar,” he says cautiously to the hippogriffs. “Hello. Um, Ha - halo?” The Gaelic is awkward in his mouth, copied from a greeting he wasn’t supposed to learn, and he ducks in his head in shame because he thinks he got it wrong.

The hippogriff huffs, and when he looks up, it’s ducked it’s head back in mimicry. It almost looks like it’s bowing. And when the next hippogriff comes up, curious, Newt bows again - and the hippogriff blinks in startled thought and then slowly, ponderously, bows back.

“Oh,” Newt says. It’s a new language. Not Marathi, not English, not Gaelic. Well, ok then. He can learn.

And he does. His mother calls the hippogriffs vicious beasts, best handled by experts, suited more to the war that’s brewing than to anything else. Their value, she tells him, is in their strength, their hooked beaks and their curving, deadly talons.

Newt bows and smiles with his mouth closed and straightens the feathers between their wing bones and curls up amongst their foals in the spring, and he tells them, “I’d think you were valuable even if you never fought in a war. I can’t imagine you’d want to. I don’t think you should have to.”

When he’s eleven, he goes to Hogwarts. When he comes back, the hippogriffs are gone, and new ones have taken their place. “These sorts of beasts aren’t pets,” his mother dismisses when he asks. “They’re property.”

And at school: “They’re dangerous.”

And when he’s expelled: “They’re illegal.”

And when he’s gone to war himself, too young, too scared, too short of other options because Theseus went to war and if Newt doesn’t follow him he has to go back home but home is in India with a woman who was more of a mother to him than the one he’s got - when he’s gone to war: “They’re weapons.”

He looks at the dragons and he rubs what poultices he can make into the scars that litter their sides, and he says, “I don’t love you for your fire. I’d wish you didn’t have it, except it’s yours, and if I love you for you then I should love your fire as well. I just wish people wouldn’t keep using you because of it.”

The dragons croon, low, gentle rumbles that they’d use to soothe a frightened hatchling. They bend their necks around him and quietly despair at the way his lack of scales leaves him vulnerable, and when he cries, they hold their wings out over him to shield him from the world.

“You aren’t weapons,” he tells them. “You’re dragons. War is not where dragons live.”

It’s not. War is where dragons die.

When peace is called, Theseus goes back to England, a hero, a leader, a different man than the one who first joined the fight. Newt goes to India, a runaway, expelled and disgraced and the same little boy he always was, loving the birds in the trees even if all he can see of them is the feathers they leave behind.

He doesn’t make it to India. He finds a niffler on the way, and then a bowtruckle; he finds a demiguise and an occamy nest and a nundu.

He calls the nundu Adelaide. She eats scones with clotted cream and jam. She learns his gestures and mimics them back to him, and she takes up all his sofa because she’s not a kitten any more. When Newt publishes a book about the creatures he’s found, someone edits her entry without asking him, and the rest of the wizarding world believe she’s a monster.

Later, he finds a little girl who’s so afraid of her magic it kills her. He finds a thunderbird, kept in chains and forced to bring rain to a patch of desert that should never have been settled to begin with. He takes the thunderbird home and on the way he finds an auror who was fired for doing the right thing, and her sister who’s chosen to wait tables because people are scared of the secrets she hears.

“Pickett,” he says in frustration, “I love you, and because I love you, I’m telling you that you’ll be happier in a tree. Because you’re a bowtruckle. You belong in trees.”

Pickett blows him a raspberry and continues arranging his curls until they look like a crown of flowers in the sun.

Newt calls him an impossible creature, and dutifully passes up a clip so Pickett can fix his work in place.

When he marries, he’s distracted. He’s known all his life what love is, and he knows that if you love something, it’s a careful balancing act. Addie wants to roam, but she always comes home in the end; Pickett wants to stay, and he cries if he’s left behind. Frank wanted to fly with his wings stretched out and his feet never touching the ground, and Dougal wants never to take his medicine again.

It’s difficult, persuading a demiguise to take his pills when he can see the future coming.

Some of these, he can give them. Some of these, because he loves them, he can’t. He says goodbye to Frank. He bargains a compromise with Pickett that won’t put the bowtruckle’s health at risk. He slips Dougal’s medicines into his food and forces himself not to react until at least an hour after they’ve been eaten. He cries when Addie calls for him, and he cries again after a week when she’s settled enough in her new home to stop.

“I miss her,” he admits to Bhudi, one afternoon in May when the jarul are flowering and he finally made it to India. “I checked on her, and she’s doing so well - I think she’s going to have cubs soon. But I miss her.”

“You love her,” Bhudi says, worn and wrinkled and beautiful. “It’s hard to let go of those we love, even if we have no choice. We think it should be enough to know that they’re happy, but sometimes we’re selfish, and that’s ok.” She smiles, and teases, “It’s nice when they come to visit, at least.”

“You were hard to find,” Newt defends. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

Bhudi laughs, and tells him to stop worrying about old women when he has something so important waiting in England.

“America,” Newt corrects. “And one thing being important doesn’t make anything else any less so.”

It’s still on his mind when he marries. In his vows, he promises to value this one person above everything else, to put them first, to love them before all others - and it sits wrong. He feels like he’s lying. How can he love one person more than all the dragons that died, more than the niffler that started his journey round the world, more than the monkey he once released from a rope snare trap? He knows so many languages now, even if some of them he lacks the tails to speak, but he doesn’t know how to explain the words that stick inside his throat.

“Newt,” they say, he says, she says, it doesn’t really matter who they are. “I know you. I know who I married. I love you, and you love me, and that’s enough.”

Is it? Because there’s a world, such a big world, with so many creatures and so many people and all of them are so deserving of love but Newt is just one person and how can he save them all how can he make people see how can he ever be enough -

He has a son. Galton Scamander. In time he has a grandson, Rolf Scamander, and in time after that two great grandsons, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.

Addie has a son as well, and two daughters. They don’t have names - not that Newt can pronounce. They hang back warily but Addie prowls forwards and butts her head against his chest, and she still knows the gestures he taught her and the gesture she uses for him is the same as she taught her cubs to use for her.

The niffler has more children than he can keep up with. She dies, in the end, because she is small and nifflers don’t live that long, but she passed her thieving ways on to her children and Newt’s sugar spoons are never safe.

Pickett doesn’t die. His life is tied to his tree. Newt tried so hard to make him bond to an oak, a great sweeping elm that would live for centuries, even a yew that would grow and keep on growing - but Pickett is bound to the tree he chose because Newt would be sad without him and Pickett would rather he not be.

There are no hard words when Newt divorces. Only an apology and an acceptance and a thank you for twenty seven years, and if both of them cry they do it in separate rooms on separate siblings’ shoulders. It is enough, sometimes, to have twenty seven years of happiness and leave it there.

Newt doesn’t cry at Bhudi’s funeral. He wasn’t there, he didn’t know; but when he next goes to visit he is taken to the place her ashes were released, and her daughter hovers awkwardly and decides to leave him to it, and Newt walks until he finds a feather on the ground and tells it in his first language that he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he misses her and he’s trying so hard but he can’t -

He hears a monkey calling out in the darkness, and he stops. He breathes. Pickett crawls up to his shoulder and starts fussing with his hair. When he starts talking again, he tells her about the next book he’s writing, the dragon sanctuaries that are going to open soon, the changes he’s made to the way creatures are taught about at Hogwarts. He tells her about a friend of his who’s just retired from running a bakery, and his son who’s learnt to fly and gives Newt a heart attack every time he goes up on a broom. He tells her about the sunset he saw and the trees he found and the tracks in the forest that belong to something new. He tells her about the world, and everything he loves about it, until he runs out of voice and he tells her everything by saying nothing at all.

In 1997 when he is a hundred years old a boy called Harry Potter breaks out of Gringotts riding the back of a dragon. It’s a Ukranian Ironbelly, scarred from the war, and when it finds Newt it croons, low, gentle rumbles like it’d use to soothe a frightened hatchling.

He is old, now, and he doesn’t run around the world fighting battles for the creatures he loves. But the dragon - his dragon - he digs in his heels and he digs in his cane and he fights until she’s free, because he loves her, because he thought she was dead, because she is old like he is and she failed to guard a vault so she is of little value to the goblins but she’s worth so much more to him.

“She has to live in a sanctuary,” they caution him. “Dragons are too dangerous to be allowed to run wild.”

“And yet people can go where they please,” he retorts, run down and tired and still not ready to stop. But he is no longer naive enough to believe that a dragon without fire is safe from those who would use it; the sanctuary is as much for the dragon’s protection as for anyone else’s.

He takes a month to sort things out. He lives in the old house in Scotland, where his grandmothers used to teach him Gaelic on the sly and make him promise not to let his mother know. There are hippogriffs, and kelpies, and an ever growing hoard of nifflers - he makes arrangements for them all, as best he can.

In the autumn, he packs his life into a beaten up old suitcase, tells Pickett to hold on tight, and apparates to the sanctuary. The dragon lifts her wing and drapes it over him, and Newt rubs poultices into her old scars, and in the evenings the dragon keepers gather round the fires with mugs of whiskey-spiked tea and Newt teaches them how to identify birds from the feathers they leave.

He meets Lorcan and Lysander there, in the sanctuary. They are small, like he was once small, and they will grow to be curious, like he still is. Their mother believes in creatures she cannot see and loves them from the clues she finds, and Newt smiles and asks her name four times and doesn’t remember it and when she goes he looks at the cork necklace in bemusement and wonders why it seems important.

He dies in the spring. There are no jarul flowers, because he is not in India, but there are primrose, and crocus, and blue forget-me-nots - and between them tiny speedwells, close to the ground and small and easy to miss but no less valuable for it.

He leaves behind a dragon on the side of a mountain who can stretch her wings and fly, and a nundu on the open plains who can roam with her pride in tow. He leaves occamies and kelpies and demiguises and nifflers, he leaves the knowledge that hippogriffs bow to say hello and thunderbirds should never be forced to stay on the ground. He leaves children and grandchildren and great grandchildren, he leaves generations of students who are taught what it means to love something, he leaves a world that is still struggling and still in need of so much more - but that is, in a thousand tiny ways, so much brighter than it would have been without him.

He doesn’t leave Pickett. He is Pickett’s tree. Pickett will follow him wherever he goes, because without Pickett he will be sad, and Pickett loves him too much to allow it.

They bury him at the sanctuary, his ashes safe beneath the rock he used to lean his cane against, and the dragon keepers take up the job of rubbing poultices into the Ironbelly’s old scars. At his funeral they call him a hero and a fighter and a good man, and his brother wheels his way to the front and calls him an idiot boy who got expelled for caring too much and never learnt to stop.

A year after he died, a special edition of his first book is released. It lists the creatures he’d found up until that point in his life, and his notes about what he’d learnt - though the book is prefaced with a caution from his grandson that some of the information was now out of date, and that Newt’s later books refined and corrected a lot of his thoughts. Still, though, there’s something beautiful about the book, raw and unpolished, with no ministry classifications, and illustrations that are at times more enthusiastic than precise. The side notes give a glimpse into the life of the man who wrote it, cautions about nifflers and their attraction to cufflinks, and a winding diatribe on the frustrations of moulting season when the entire nest of occamies have taken residence in your bed.

Between the nifflers and the occamies there’s an entry for nundus. It remarks that they have no concept of how large they grow, that they believe themselves to be lapcats despite being significantly heavier than the owner of the lap in question, and worries that their fondness for scones and jam will do bad things to their teeth. The entry comes with a postscript saying that in the original printed version the ministry had decided nundus were too lethal to be so carelessly written of, and had replaced Newt’s text with one they felt more accurately represented the threat of so large and dangerous a beast.

“Dangerous?” the newest generation of magizoologists said, setting up habitats, warding off breeding grounds, relocating people to places they won’t disturb the latest litter of cubs. “Well, yes. It doesn’t make them any less worthy of being loved.”

[locke-writes]

Becoming Whole

Author: locke-writes

Title: Becoming Whole

Based On: Imagine Hotch falling in love with you, the person he hired to take care of Jack when he’s away  By: Myself. Originally Requested By: @lotsoffandomimagines​

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,038

Tag List: @opalsandlacemain​

After Haley was killed Aaron made a vow to keep Jessica in Jack's life. She was his aunt and regardless of whether or not her sister was alive she was still related to Jack, she was always going to be Aunt Jessica to him. It seemed cruel to cut her out of Jack's life for the sole fact that his mother, her sister, was gone. Family was family no matter what circumstances may occur.

Aaron supposed he knew that there had to be an end to the way he had been using Jessica. She was family that was true but family should not be delegated to babysitter and that was what he had been using her for as of late. It had been only six months since Haley died - he liked to think of it as died and not killed - yet his idea of keeping Jessica in Jack's life had changed to more having Jack in Jessica's life. He knew that he couldn't keep relying on her day in and day out. Rare occasions when he was home and able to take Jack to school or home from school meant Jessica had little freedom, but little freedom was not the same as all the freedom she once had.

She had turned from Aunt to babysitter in the six weeks since. Guilt weighed heavy on Aaron's shoulders, not just due to his belief that he was taking advantage of Jessica but because he felt he was burning the only bridge that he had for Jack to remember his mother by. Whether that was foolish or truth he didn't want to know, refusing to bring up the subject around Jack. Instead he began looking online for anyone who he felt would be a suitable match to care for Jack.

He began scouring the internet looking at general caretaker sites and individual sites although none seemed to be the right match. It wasn't fair to judge someone based on a profile but that was his job at he refused to believe that he could ever be wrong. Aaron wondered if his endeavor was hopeless because it certainly felt that way. He didn't want to give up, didn't want to forgo the endeavor as he wanted to make sure that there was someone he could count on, someone whose job that it actually was, to care for Jack.

Your name seemed to come up multiple times after he brought up that he was looking for someone to take care of Jack. His schedule was cleared for the week while he dealt with the parent teacher conference for Jack and he felt taking the week off (on call for major emergency's only) would be beneficial in scheduling your interview.

Resume in hand you knocked on the door of the Hotchner household. To say that the man who opened the door was intimidating at first was an understatement even if he did insist you call him Aaron it didn't help that he worked for the FBI. You wondered if he'd already run a background check on you or pulled whatever records on you that he could potentially gain access to.

Caretaker, that was your title. You joked that it always seemed to conjure images of the elderly rather than the children you seemed to care for but it always seemed a better term to you than babysitter or nanny. Aaron had to agree and was ultimately impressed with your experience and references. While he wouldn't tell you in the interview, you were the one person he felt could be truly compatible with Jack.

He called you an hour after the interview to offer you the job which you readily accepted.

The following week was your first meeting with Jack Hotchner. Aaron had asked you to meet him and Jack at the park near his house, a space where Jack often felt calm and a space that wouldn't make him feel as though there was an intruder in his home. This latter portion was specifically important to Aaron as he wanted Jack to never have to relieve that day. You would only learn later on what had happened to Haley.

Jack was shy at first, remaining by his father's side even after the reassurance that you were someone he could trust. It wasn't a new experience for you, getting children to open up and be welcoming, but you knew that it would take time. With Jack it took only a matter of minutes as you commented on one of the characters on his backpack. That launched Jack into a ten minute conversation on the cartoon with Aaron smiling as he watched his son interact with you. It seemed then that you were a perfect match.

And you still were, a year and a half later.

Aaron had never really thought about when you would stop caring for Jack. Perhaps when Jack was old enough that Aaron felt comfortable with him being home alone after school although that wasn't any time soon. You'd never made mention of wanting or looking for another job, you were happy at the Hotchner household and the Hotchner household was happy to have you.

Jack loved you and Aaron…might have been in love with you. Somewhere in the last few months he felt something changed when he looked at you, it wasn't something he wanted to admit to himself still thinking he wasn't ready after Haley. The team knew, and had met you, which meant that Dave had seen the way Aaron looked at you. What Aaron didn't acknowledge or felt he couldn't acknowledge, Dave saw and knew.

You cared for Jack, you cared for his father. Aaron recognized this yet he refused to say anything about it. His cases were important, Jack was important, feelings were something that could be pushed aside and buried deep down until maybe they simply ceased to exist.  Aaron convinced himself he wasn't ready, he wasn't going to be able to move on from Haley.

Although with you he knew all of that to be a lie.

It was all a lie, telling himself he didn't love you, that he didn't care for you. You cared for him, took care of him I ways he could truly never understand. Not that it was difficult to understand, but just that you didn't have to and yet you chose to. You were hired to take care of his son, he wasn't part of the job and yet in some ways you made sure he was cared for as well.

You picked Jack up from school, you cooked him dinner and made sure on the late nights that he went to bed on time. But you also made sure that there were leftovers for Hotch in the fridge, you made sure Jack had Skype calls with Aaron when he was off for cases, you took care of him more than you should. And Aaron began wondering why.

Why would you choose to care for him? It wasn't your job, you weren't getting paid extra for everything that you took care of specifically for himself although there were times that Aaron had provided more financial compensation than was agreed upon in the initial payment discussion and subsequent discussions regarding raises and bonuses. He always assured you he could afford it when you balked at taking money from him.

Had these been payments or ways for him to show he cared just the same?

It didn't hit him that he loved you until he came home from a case that had taken a week to long. Each night he called Jack he'd promised to be home soon, promised to take him to the aquarium like he'd been begging. He promised all sorts of things and as soon as he walked through the door he just wanted to collapse. What he'd seen, it wasn't anything new in terms of all the cases he'd been a part of but still, this time it hit differently.

But when the door opened and he walked inside there was something that made everything change. You were at the dining room table with Jack the two of you fighting off laughter while you struggled to maintain a firm command that Jack should continue his homework. It was simple but there it was, the moment that confirmed everything for Aaron.

He loved you. There was no doubting it. He loved you and this was what he wanted.

He wanted to see you when he came home. He wanted to be able to call you and talk to you when he was feeling overwhelmed. He wanted to hold you and hold your hand when taking Jack to the park. He wanted everything and he wanted it with you. Had he always been so blind? Had he always been so stubborn in his refusal to admit the truth?

"Is no one going to say hello?" He broke into the laughter and dropped his bag to the floor.

Jack launched himself at his father being wrapped into a hug.

You smiled, "Oh, hey Aaron! Sorry…we were a little occupied."

"I heard. A good joke?"

"Yeah. Have Jack tell it to you later, he's the one that came up with it"

He watched as you went into the living room to grab your things. It was always like this, he'd come home and you'd take your things and leave but he didn't want that this time. He had something he needed to say to you this time.

Aaron turned to Jack, "Hey, you think you can finish this in your room? We've got to talk about boring adult stuff"

Jack frowned but nodded and grabbed his notebook from the table. You set your bag back down and stepped into the kitchen, whatever was going to be talked about you hoped to lessen the blow by distracting Aaron with talk of dinner. He watched as you removed containers from the fridge.

"I hope you don't mind being childish. It's chicken nuggets with mac 'n cheese. I baked some cookies too."

"That's fine…do you want to stop for a second. It's nothing bad but it is serious"

You paused, was he just saying it wasn't bad because he wanted to soften the blow or was he being truthful"

"Ok. Go on."

"I've been refusing to accept it for too long and I don't know why. I've told you about Haley. I've told you about nearly everything and you've never backed away from it all. Maybe that scared me, maybe the fact that you could put up with all that was terrifying to me. I don't know."

"Aaron…"

"I'm in love with you."

"Oh"

"I needed you to know that. I needed to tell you that because keeping it from myself was tormenting me and I don't know how I'd bare keeping it a secret from you. I don't expect you to feel the same way and if you need to stop caring for Jack then I'll understand but"

You interrupted, "Yes I probably will have to look for a new job"

Aaron nodded.

"Because I don't want to be paid for taking care of the son of someone I love. That's just helping with parenting, no one needs to be paid for that."

He stared at you and you waited for him to say something before realizing that he was still processing what you had said. You knew the look on his face, it was the same one when he was trying to analyze an interrogation transcript trying to look for a flaw in the words.

"Aaron, I'm in love with you."

Before you knew it he was around the counter and kissing you. This was right, this felt right.

"Gross!" Jack's voice came from the hallway causing Aaron to pull away and turn towards his son.

"You were supposed to be in your room"

"I'm going back, can you not do that in the kitchen? I need someone to check my math homework."

"I'll be there in a minute Jack" you replied.

"Ok. Just make sure I'm not around when you're kissing from now on"

Aaron chuckled, "I guess I don't have to worry about telling him about us."

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Meant To Be: Part 6

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drug use, smut

Word Count: 3,253

A/N: Y’all can thank @wings-of-a-raven for this one….

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright close…”

“Colson, I am not closing my fucking eyes with the baby in my arms.” You snapped before he could even finish as you headed toward the front door with a shake of your head.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much of a buzz kill you are sometimes, bitch?” He asked as he stopped at the door. “Alright, so I called some people… and I hope it all works for you ‘cause I didn’t know what the fuck half the shit was.”

“What did you do, Colson?” You sighed as you hiked Gage up on your hip a bit more and quickly caught his hand before he could pull on your hair while he babbled away.

“I fixed it.” He said with a shrug as he pushed the front door open and stepped inside. You instantly noticed the stair case, which now had plexiglass along the banisters, and a decorative baby gate at the top and the bottom that matched the black wrought iron, perfectly.

“Babe.”

“You wanted a medium.” He said with a shrug. “I mediumed.” Your head bobbed slowly as he turned you to lead you toward the living room, where some of the crew were hanging out along with a woman you hadn’t seen in almost two years.

“Sawyer!” You cried, making her whip around toward you, sending her half black, half red hair flying in an arch behind her.

“You’re here!” She screeched as she jumped to her feet and handed Slim the joint in her fingers, that you realized you hadn’t smelled the way you normally did when you stepped into the house. “Did he tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You asked as you gave her a one armed hug, but Kels quickly pulled you away.

“Not there yet.” He said as he pulled you a couple steps over toward the entertainment center. “Look, straps and shit so it don’t fucking fall, drawer locks that apparently keep JP at bay, too.”

“Hey!” Rook shouted from the couch as the rest of the group taunted him.

“We got these things.” Kels continued as he tapped a knee high box beside you with his toe. “Air purifiers or some shit. Dude said they were the quietest shit on the market so each room’s got one.” Your heart melted as he brought you around each room of the house, showing off every little thing he had had done to ensure that Gage was absolutely safe in the typically wild household. Every door handle and outlet had a cover, every drawer was latched closed. He even went as far as making sure there was a table that was about five feet tall and had a four inch plexiglass lip around the edge to ‘keep the drugs in one spot.’

“Colson.” You said as you looked over at him with a stunned expression as you tried to come up with the words.

“Not done.” He said as he spun you back toward the stairs. “So as you saw, Rook got moved.” He started as he held the gate open for you. “And let me tell you, fixing up his damn room cost me an arm and a fucking leg. But… Gage now has his own room.”

“Jesus.” You gasped as you walked in and looked around the ‘rockstar’ room that you were honestly a little jealous of. “How the fuck did you do all this?”

“Text messages and phone calls when you were napping.” He said as he shut the door and sent someone a text. Your brow furrowed and you looked over at him while setting Gage down to play as the floor beneath your feet started to vibrate the slightest bit. “Sound proof.” He said as he pointed up to a camera above the door, one in the far corner facing the crib and the door, and one on the crib facing the bed. 

“Baby monitors. So you can have fun and keep an eye on him at the same time. And Sawyer has agreed to be our nanny of sorts for the low, low price of rooming with Rook, some first class seats around the world, and some weed as payment. I’m working on fixing up the bus so you guys can come with me to fest and when we go on tour here in the states next year after we all go to Europe and…” His thought was cut off as you cupped his jaw in your hands and kissed him with tears in your eyes. He smiled against your lips and slid his arms around your waist as the tension he was carrying in his shoulders slipped away. 

“Thank you.” You whispered when you pulled away to rest your forehead against his. “Baby…”

“You two belong here.” He said softly as he carded his fingers through your hair. “Not in your own fucking place. Not out of my fucking arms. I won’t fucking lose you again, baby girl. I won’t make it…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered as you pulled back to search his eyes. “We’re a family. We’re here, together.”

“Fuck yes we are.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na.” You sang loudly, changing the lyrics to ‘All The Small Things’ by Blink 182 the slightest bit since you were feeding your 10 month old a banana for dinner. “Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na.” Gage squealed, took the cut up piece of banana out of your fingers and shoved it in his mouth, completely ignoring the last few pieces of shredded chicken and rigatoni on his high chair tray for your much more entertaining food of choice. “Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!” You screamed as you threw your hands up and danced in a circle in the rented RV, until your eyes landed on a cell phone and the person that was holding it in the doorway.

“So this is the fun I’m missing out on.” Colson teased. “Well fuck, baby. I wanna join!”

“Well here’s the ba-na-na-na.” You laughed as you handed your boyfriend the banana and the knife. “Small bites. I’m gunna finish getting ready…”

“Late night! Come home!” Kels said over you in a forced horse tone as he handed Gage the next bite while head banging to the music on your phone. With a giant smile, you headed back into the bedroom and pulled off his shirt to reveal your fest outfit that was thankfully banana and pasta sauce free thanks to your mock apron. Your head bobbed the slightest bit as you double checked your hair was still messily decent before grabbing your Doc Martens and heading back out toward the bathroom.

“The fuck is that?” Kels demanded as he almost instantly stopped dancing and stood up straight to look at you. “Oh no. Fuck no, you’re not wearing that!” You stopped dead in your tracks and cocked your eyebrow at him before slowly looking down at your outfit.

“You’re really gunna fucking say that to me.” You said simply as you looked back up at him, pointedly.

“Yea, cause you look like a stripper… is that my shirt?”

“Not any more.” You hissed as you stepped into the bathroom.

“Babe, you’re a fucking mother!” Colson shouted as he handed Gage a slice of banana and stormed over toward the bathroom where you were starting to do your makeup.

“And what, a mother can’t wear a cut off shirt and…”

“And fucking underwear!? You’re wearing fishnets and a fucking garter belt…”

“And what, you think you can tell me what to wear again all of a sudden, asshole?” You snapped as you turned and shoved him out of the bathroom and into the wall.

“Yea, when you dress like that!” You took a step back and popped your jaw in aggravation.

“OK.” You said with a nod as you tossed your makeup on the counter and grabbed the edge of his shirt, which you had cut up and tied to the point where it barely covered your breasts. “Here, I’ll just go like this.”

“The fuck you are!” He shouted even louder as he looked at the XX tape that you had strategically placed over your nipples before he saw the back of the high waisted bathing suit bottoms you had on that left little to the imagination. “WHAT THE FUCK, HOE?!”

“Come on, baby boy.” You cooed with a smile as you pulled the tray off the high chair and set it on the table since he was done eating anyways. “You and your slutty Mommy are going home because I am not putting up with this shit again.”

“No… fuck. OK, wait, hold on.” Colson said as he quickly ran around you and stood in front of the door. “OK, you win.”

“It’s not about fucking winning, Kels.” You sighed as you pulled some chicken out of Gage’s hair. “I’m my own fucking person and I make my own fucking decisions, right? Which means, that at my age, I can discern what is appropriate to wear to a fucking music festival, where I do not have my son with me, and where I’m going to be doing drugs for hours on end while someone else parents for the night. So yea, mama’s gunna be a fucking skank for the night. Mama’s gunna get fucking drunk in the skimpiest outfit she can because I fucking can. 

And if you don’t fucking like it, you can stay here with our son and give Sawyer the night off of nannying and editing books and shit to party with me. Or, you can shut the fuck up about what I’m fucking wearing, give your fucking son a bath, and come get fucked up with me. Appreciate the fact that your baby mama still fucking has it and appreciate the fact that you’re the one tapping this ass. Bath time, baby boy.” You leaned forward and kissed the slightly annoyed look off Colson's face and passed him Gage with a huge smirk. “Tell me what to fucking wear again, and there will be no discussion. I’ll just punch you in the fucking throat.”

“Bitch, I fucking dare you.” He growled as he stood where he was and looked at your only partially covered ass. “You do look hot as fuck, though.”

“I know!” You called out over your shoulder as you grabbed your shirt off the floor and stepped back into the bathroom to do your make up. “Bath, Colson. I wanna get fucked up with my pain in the ass, control freak baby daddy.”

——

The music in the dome was so loud, it was almost literally rattling your bones, but you welcomed it with open arms. Your heated skin was covered with a sheen of sweat as you danced, mesmerized by the strobing colorful lights that were flashing in a random pattern across the white tent and PVC pipes that created the structure. Colson’s fingers traced your side like a feather, creating electric tingles trail in their path, as you danced with Ashleigh with your ass on his hip. You knew, just by the way he subtly shifted away then toward you and 

by the way his fingers would grip your hip periodically as you danced, you were driving him crazy, but he was still acting like ‘Kels’ and not the ‘Colson’ you wanted.

“Colson.” You whined as you turned and pressed up against his bare chest between songs, distracting him from whatever it was that he was saying to the crowd about some movie you didn’t care about. “I need you to please, PLEASE bend me over fucking anything and make me forget my own name. Please Daddy…”

“Movie now.” He said a little quickly as he pushed you past him toward the stairs. “I’ll be out in tent city later on. Diaper duty and shit…”

“Colson!” You hissed from the bottom of the stairs because he was taking too long.

“Fuck you, I’m coming.” He barked as he passed the mic off to Mod without a second glance. You grabbed the edge of your shirt and playfully pulled it up in the darkness behind the tent, which made Colson growl at you as he stepped out behind the tent. “Just fuckin’ asking for trouble.”

“So worth it.” You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder like a rag doll, which simply turned you on even more. You whined and slid your hands down his back to grab his ass as he headed down the short row of RVs. He retaliated by slapping your ass and thigh as hard as he could a couple times, guaranteeing that you would not be able to dress so risqué the next day.

“Show everyone whose ass this is.” He growled as he yanked the door to your RV open, startling Sawyer who was sitting at the table, working.

“And that’s my cue.” She said quickly as she gathered all her things and leapt to her feet.

“Thanks Soy.” You said from your upside spot with a small smirk and wave. “Got him from here.” She nodded her head, tossed her work on the bed above the drivers seat where she and JP were ‘sleeping’ and glanced into the pack and play that was set up in front of the couch before hurrying out the door to go party for a while. You squealed as quietly as you could when you were tossed on the bed and smirked up at the love of your life.

“You’re in so much fucking trouble, bitch.” Colson growled as he put one knee on the bed and reached up to snap the strap holding your fishnets up against your inner thigh. “Fuck… you are one sexy mother fucker, babe.”

“Why are you talking?” You asked as you used the edge of the bed to kick off your boots. “Daddy, please…”

“Say it again.” He groaned as he quickly pulled his jeans and boxers off and tossed them to the side. 

“Daddy.” You cooed with a smile as you took off your shirt and tossed it to the side.

“Fuck, I missed that. No, fucking leave ‘em.” He said as he whacked your hands before you could pull off the tape on your nipples. “You’re in fucking trouble. Making me watch men stare at your ass all night long. And then you started fucking dancing.” You whined and squirmed on the blankets as he snapped the other side before quickly bending down to bite the red spot he had made. Your whine caught in your throat as he scraped his nails down the back of your thigh, knowing you loved the pain as much as he did.

“Colson please…”

“Fuck you.” He barked as he snapped the strap again. “Teasing me all night.”

“I’m gunna fucking kill you if you don’t…” You yelped as he quickly reached up and ripped off one of the strips of tape before covering your mouth with his hand.

“Bitch, I fucking dare you to try to act like the fucking boss here.” He said, as he fit his hips between your thighs. “We both know I’m the fucking boss between these thighs. Isn’t that right, bitch?” You nodded your head and squeaked again as he popped the straps once more before he pushed your bottoms to the side and pushed himself in. Your jaw dropped and you cringed when he scratched the back of your thighs harder while hiking your legs up on his hips.

“No foreplay at all here, huh?”

“You had plenty of fucking foreplay on the fucking dance floor.” He said as he leaned down and kissed you roughly. “And I don’t think you can not wake up Gage if I go down on you…”

“Fine just shut up and fuck me.” 

“Getting fucking bossy again.” He cooed with a devilish smirk as he spanked the side of your thigh and your ass. “Daddy’s not liking the…”

“He’s gunna be really fucking pissed if he doesn’t fucking fuck me.” You groaned as you tried to roll your hips against his, but with the way he was laying, you couldn’t move much at all.

“Oh, no…” He tisked with a shake of his hand as he dug his nails into your left thigh with one hand and placed his other on your throat. “Who’s the fucking boss?”

“No.” You said, daringly as you grabbed his wrist with both hands, begging him with your eyes alone to give you more than the torture he was giving out currently. “Please…”

“Who’s the fucking boss?” He growled lowly as he leaned forward so that his mouth was right beside your ear. His grip tightened around your throat and your whole body tensed. “Answer me.”

“Daddy…” You whispered as you moved your hand to cup his jaw so you could gently push his face above yours. “Daddy, please.”

“Tell me, baby.” He said as he searched your eyes, loosened his grip for a moment, and steadily started to pick up his pace. “Who’s your fucking Daddy.”

“You.” You gasped between gasps as you tangled your fingers in his sweat dampened hair. “Only you.”

“Damn fucking right.” He said with a giant smirk as he pulled your leg up on his hip more so he could pick up a bruising pace. You nodded your head and stretched so that you could capture his lips to conceal your moans. Colson molded you like putty, taking his time to add bursts of pain to your pleasure with the garter belt straps and the tape on your chest, just as you did every time you clawed at his shoulders and back, needing him closer and deeper.

“Baby please.” You begged when you hit the edge you needed to sail over.

“Stay there, baby girl. I’m almost there.” You nodded your head and slid your hand down his back to just above his perfect ass.

“Come with me.” You whispered as you dragged your nails across his tats, which made him him tighten his grip on your throat even more.

“Fuck yes…” He growled out as he found your clit with his thumb and threw you over the edge.  Your whole body tensed and your fingers and toes curled as he buried himself deep and came with you. He let his grip on your throat go and buried his face in your hair to muffle his swearing as you took a deep, shuddering breath and slid your arms around his back.

“Damn, baby.” You sighed as he pulled out of you but rolled you both on your sides. “Fucking love you.”

“Fucking love you.” He huffed with a smile as he tilted your chin to look at the handprint he almost purposely left on your throat. You can see the satisfied smirk playing behind his eyes as he brushed his thumb across the forming bruise as the lie formed on his lips. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You giggled as you unsnapped your garter belt from your fishnets to take them off. “You stayin’ with me and the baby or are you going back out?”

“Probably gunna smoke a joint with you, and go out to tent city for a bit.” He sighed as he rolled onto his back to find his jeans.

“OK just help me move the play pen in here before you go so that Rook and Sawyer don’t wake up Gage.”

“Will do, baby.”

Part 7