#desperate for everything that andrew allows him

[kiwiaok]

man, having such a wild and untamed creature as neil fucking josten at your beckon must be such a power trip, no wonder andrew folded

[padfootagain]

The Car Trap

Hi!!!!! Here I am again, back to my old antics! Yes, I’m adding one more person to my masterlist. Yes, I am going to hell for this, and you know what? I’ll have such a great time!

Anyway, no one asked for this, except for me, as I was desperate for some Hozier fics, and couldn’t find any new ones anymore! So, here we go! Hope you like this, let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, angst to fluff! Friends to lovers, snowed-in… in a car… *hihihihihihhi!!!*

Summary: You're offered a job in Switzerland, and you're ready to accept it. It would offer you a new beginning, a way to forget about the love you have for your best friend. But a trip through a snowstorm with Andrew might change everything...

Word Count: 7282

Hozier’s Masterlist - Main Masterlist

This trip was a disaster.

A fucking, outrageously terrible disaster…

The weather was terrible, for a start. And that was a statement made with an Irish reference, which was saying a lot. It had been raining so hard you had to stop the car for a while as you could not see the road ahead at all. Then it was time for so much wind that your fingers were cramping over the strength used to hold the wheel. Four hours later, it was getting dark, the sun already setting and the sky heavy with clouds that blocked all sunlight. And it was snowing.

Fucking snowing.

Great. Wonderful. Lovely.

Oh, but if only the problem was held by the capricious weather… no… no, this was but a part of the issue. You could even say that this was the top of the iceberg, just a tiny fraction of the shit you were buried under.

Because your phone had died. But then again, you had no signal anyway to get the help of a friendly and absolutely annoying GPS; and in the passenger seat by your side, your best friend was struggling with a fifteen-year old map that was so out-of-date that it might as well have not existed for the help it got you…

You were lost. You were fucking lost, in the middle of nowhere, while it was getting dark and snowing and there was nothing manmade in sight to ask for help.

Wonderful. Truly, wonderful.

Oh, and that was without mentioning that the best friend in question was also the man you had been in love with for years but had never dared confess your feelings to.

Outrageously bad, that road trip, really…

Andrew picked up his phone to get some more light, his glasses perched haphazardly on his nose as he tried to decipher names printed on the large map splayed across his laps; hair held back in a low bun, allowing you to see his focused features.

“So?”

He merely hummed in response, a long finger following a dark line.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” you insisted.

“None whatsoever,” he shook his head.

He sat back in his seat, before rubbing his eyes.

“I mean… we’ll end up crossing a village at one point if we keep going along this road,” he sighed. “I don’t have a better plan for now.”

“We might have to stop at one point, though. The snow is getting heavy.”

“I had never envisioned dying from the cold in the middle of nowhere on some random Irish road…” Andrew joked, his tone almost contemplative, and you couldn’t refrain a chuckle.

“And with you! Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m dying with you, of all people.”

“Why not? You don’t want to see me dying?”

“I don’t want my last moments to be shared with someone as annoying as you.”

He tried to throw back some witty remark, but his laughter was too much to handle.

He had pushed back the seat as far as possible, of course, in an attempt to accommodate his long limbs, but even in this position, his legs were not fully extended before him, his knees hitting the dashboard at every bump of the road.

You forced your gaze to go back to the road again, squinting your eyes to see through the heavy snow that fell now, instead of lingering on his legs.

God… you were so damn ridiculous…

His quiet rumble of a laugh finally died out, but a smile remained set on his features, even though his tone was serious as he spoke again.

“We can still turn the engines on every once in a while to get some heat.”

“Won’t that drain the battery or something?”

“If we don’t do it too much, it should be fine. Besides, it’s not minus twenty outside, relax. We’ll be fine.”

You merely nodded, falling, as always, for the safety in his quiet voice and the warmth of his tone.

Besides, it was easier to believe in the certainty of his voice, in its soothing sound, than to face the snow falling more and more heavily outside, the night creeping over the distant mountains, right beyond the green fields. Their silhouettes were almost made invisible now by the low light, you could only guess their shadows. Despite the headlights, you could barely make out the stony walls on each side of the road, mostly devoured by ivy and thickets. You had slowed down your pace, driving slowly in fear that a wild animal would suddenly jump in front the car, or that you would miss a random house set by the road.

It was also easier to focus on the silly story he was using to quieten your mind rather than to mention the reason behind this trip across the countryside.

You were leaving.

You were leaving Ireland to settle in Switzerland for a job. Or well, nothing was fixed for now, but you had an amazing opportunity. A first trip to the country to meet your future boss in person was planned for the following week, and at the end of these three days spent in Geneva, you had to sign your contract. You would then have about a month to find a place and move there.

So, you and your best friend had decided to enjoy a little road trip together. Driving all the way to the other side of the country. Staying at an Airbnb near the western coast. Enjoying four days together spent by the sea, the cliffs, and an awful lot of chips and beer.

You had been puzzled by Andrew’s reaction when you told him about your new job. He had seemed… unphased by it.

Of course, with his career, he was often away, and you were used not to live close to each other for long periods of time. Still, you were always one of the first people he visited whenever he was home. And while he stayed in Ireland, you spent most of your time together. As if he wanted to soak in as many moments as he could before he would leave again. And yet, when you told him that you would move to another country, he didn’t even blink. He gave you a smile, congratulated you, offered you a warm hug, and that was it. He asked about the job, about the place where you would live… and that was it. No disappointment in the thought of you leaving. No sadness at the thought of not having you around. No heartbreak whatsoever…

But then again, you were a fool for hoping that he would feel this way. Because he was… Andrew. Absolutely-lovely, amazing-hair, siren-voiced, hilariously-witty, unbearably-gentle Andrew. You had been friendzoned a few weeks after your first encounter, and you had no reason to believe that his feelings had changed. Actually, this new job, you took it as an opportunity to forget him. Move on. And not only because many miles would separate your homes, but because you weren’t leaving on your own.

Another one of your colleagues, Tom, had been approached by the same company as you had. He had already accepted the offer, and he was thrilled when he learned that you were leaving for Geneva as well. You knew he had a crush on you. He was pretty obvious about it. If he had never crossed a line, it was clear that he wanted you to give him a chance. And who knew? Perhaps this new beginning, with another man that you quite frankly found great, could mean you finally moving on from your stupid crush on your best friend. A new start, in another country. After spending a few weeks getting used to this new place, this new corporation, this new workplace… perhaps you would give Tom a chance. You desperately needed to forget Andrew, after all…

Of course, you didn’t know that you were completely, utterly wrong… about everything. That Andrew wanted to cry at the mere thought of you leaving. That he held you too tight and for too long that afternoon when, bathed in the neon light of your kitchen, you told him you were moving so far away from him, because he didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes. He didn’t have the right to hold you back. He was but a friend to you, and friends needed to be supportive, and this was such a great opportunity for you, and… and he was only your friend.

Only your goddamn friend. As if Andrew hadn’t longed to be much more than that after a mere week spent in your company. But you had met before he would leave, touring for his second album, the timing was all wrong. He couldn’t ask you out for a couple of dates just to get you attached to him, before he would disappear for months on the other side of the planet. That wasn’t fair. He wanted to do things the right way. So, he kept his distance at first, unwilling to get too attached himself. But then, when he came home months later… you weren’t single anymore.

The fool… he had lost his chance. And over the years, the two of you had built such a great friendship that he didn’t want to take the risk anymore. Besides, he was certain that you didn’t see him this way. You had been in relationships, he had been in relationships… you had never showed any sign that would make him feel that he was more than a friend to you. Even when he tried to get you jealous, at the beginning, right after your break-up… but it didn’t work. The lure fell into the water in a deafening defeat, and he had made up both his mind and heart. You weren’t interested. He didn’t blame you. With his chaotic lifestyle.. who in their mind would settle for that?

Did it stop Andrew from still being in love with you, even after all this time? No, of course it did not. And the thought that you wouldn’t be home with him anymore…

He looked away, through the window, just to hide the tears that rose to his eyes all over again. He rested his elbow against the cold window, his lips to the back of his hand, biting lightly in the skin to calm down. He had no right to try to hold you back… no right at all… Was it your fault if he was enough of a fool to fall for his best friend? The cliché was almost too much to bear…

When he turned to you again, though, he couldn’t help the warm, fond feeling that invaded his chest at the sight of you. During the moment of silence you were both bathing into, disturbed solely by the wind and the tires over the frozen road, the night had almost conquered the last remnants of sunlight that lingered there, held against the eastern riff of the mountains. The headlights and the dim lights coming from the headboard were enough for him to see your features, though. They were enough for him to long to brush that strand of hair behind your ear, to lean across the car to kiss your cheek, to feel the warmth of your skin, even if for just a second, against his lips…

God, he didn’t want you to leave. What would he do if you left? When would you see each other? Never… If he spent so much time touring and you weren’t home…

God, he would move to Geneva with you if you asked. Even if it were to keep him as a mere friend, that was how badly he needed you in his life…

“Andy… I’m not sure I should keep driving…”

Andrew shook himself out of his thoughts, forced his attention back to the road ahead. You could barely see the road at all, as it was slowly turning white, just like the patches of grass between the road and the low walls…

Andrew shook his head.

“We can’t just stop in the middle of the road either. Just… drive slowly. Let’s try to find somewhere to park.”

You nodded, frowning in your focus.

You kept on driving for a while longer. The night was stark black when you finally found a small space by the road where you could safely park. There was still no house in sight, though… not that you could have seen anything beyond a five meters radius anyway…

You turned off the engine, let the lights go dark. Andrew turned on the light of his phone again.

“You should save some battery,” you argued.

“Got plenty, don’t worry.”

“So… now, what?”

“Now, we wait.”

“And if it keeps on snowing all night? Should we try to get some sleep?”

He merely nodded, setting his phone between the two of you to shed some light all over the tiny space of your car. Andrew reached behind him to get your coats from the backseat.

“We should put these on while they’re still warm.”

You didn’t complain when Andrew unfolded your warm coat, holding it up so you could easily slip your arms inside; nor did you stop him when he straightened it around your frame, reached for the zipper, and closed it for you.

And perhaps it would have been wiser for you to do so… but then again, you were human.

You were still trying to regulate your heartbeat while Andrew was putting on his own coat.

And for the first half-hour, everything was easy. You turned the engines back on for a few minutes when it got too cold, but in such a weather, you were worried your car wouldn’t start with a low battery. After all, it wasn’t exactly brand new.

“What if we get stuck in here?” you asked, worrying about the snow that didn’t give any sign of stopping.

“We’ll freeze to death, probably. At least the cold will preserve our bodies.”

“Good news for the police officer who’s gonna open the door. The smell won’t be too bad.”

“Exactly.”

“How long do you think before they find us?”

“Oh… at least a few weeks, if it snows enough.”

“Don’t you think anyone would notice a car covered in snow by the side of the road?”

“Not if there’s enough snow on it.”

You were the first to break, unable to be serious any longer. And Andrew’s laugh soon found yours, a deep rumble shaking the air around you.

“We won’t get fully snowed in,” Andrew reassured you as your laughter receded, in favour of the hushed quiet of winter. “Don’t worry. Besides, we’re not going to stay here all night. We’ll just wait until the worst of the storm passes. I can drive the rest of the way, if you want.”

“I can keep driving. I think I’ll try to take a nap while we wait though. I need to focus.”

Andrew merely nodded as an answer, adding a soft humming for good measure, before he would offer you a warm smile. He reached for something in his pocket, and put on a beanie and some gloves.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” he added, shifting to get more comfortable, the seatbelt since long discarded.

You tried to do the same, sliding the seat back to get more room to move around. Your eyes settled on Andrew’s features one more time before they closed.

But there was no way you could fall asleep. Beside your troubled mind, you were getting uncomfortably cold again. Enough for your teeth to chatter for a moment, until you tightly set your jaw.

You felt warm skin brush the back of your freezing fingers, heard the low, unapproving humming that Andrew let out at the touch.

“Take these, Y/N.”

You blinked your eyes open, while Andrew was already pushing a glove into your palm.

“You’ll be cold,” you argued, but you were met with a fond glare.

“You are cold.”

You gave up, took the gloves he offered. So large around your hands, the wool soft and still holding the warmth born from his own skin. You tried to stop him from planting his beanie on your head too, but failed.

“You need to stay warm! You’re a singer! You can’t catch a cold!” you tried to argue, but Andrew was already pulling the wool down to cover your ears.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine. Besides, you’re the one who’s always cold.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! Who wears a woollen scarf in June?”

“It was cold!”

“You could turn into an ice cube if left unattended.”

With a great sense of maturity, you stuck out the tip of your tongue, making him chuckle.

It was better, but you were still cold, and so was Andrew now. He was shaking slightly, rubbing his hands together, burying his mouth and nose in his woollen grey scarf to warm it with his breath. But when he tried to shed some light outside again, the snow was still too heavy to drive safely.

“I can’t feel my fucking toes,” he complained, but there wasn’t much that you could do.

Except that you could. It was stupid, probably ineffective, but you were too cold to think straight.

“What if we hugged?”

Andrew let out a laugh.

“I like the sentiment, but that would hardly warm my toes.”

“Isn’t sharing body warmth a surviving technique?”

“Do I look like I would survive in the wild?”

“No, you would either bump your head in a branch so hard you’d knock yourself out to fall right into an endless pit… or you would be spotted by lions from miles away, you and your long limbs…”

“Exactly.”

There was silence again, for a couple of minutes, and you didn’t dare to break it. Instead, you let your eyelids fall again. He had refused to hold you, it was speaking volumes. What if you had made him uncomfortable? What were you expecting anyway? You were just a friend…

A gentle tug on your sleeve made you look up at him.

“Come here.”

“What?”

“We’re both cold, come here. You’re right, body heat sounds like a good idea.”

You joked in an attempt to hide the way your heart jumped in your chest.

“We both know you simply like to be held. Even by me.”

“Anything if I can avoid losing my toes.”

You wished you could claim that the manoeuvre that led you to lie with Andrew was a graceful one, but it truly wasn’t. After bumping into every surface possible and hitting your head against the ceiling twice, you were, however, finally secured in Andrew’s arms.

You moved around a little, trying to get comfortable, but in the tiny space of the passenger seat, there was nowhere for you to lay but on top of him.

If your nerves were getting the better of you at first, you couldn’t help but unwind as Andrew wrapped his arms around your frame, engulfing you within his embrace, pressing you closer to him, even though it didn’t seem possible.

He closed his eyes as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo, but you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice either the way his heart sped up under his ribs, the way his breath caught in his throat. You never seemed to notice. Andrew reckoned that he was pretty obvious, although he did try to hide it all, but you never noticed anything. He couldn’t hide it, though. Even if this would lead nowhere, even if he didn’t stand a chance, he couldn’t help it. Loving you. In all the years he had known you, he had never been able to help it. Perhaps that was what love was all about. Loving beyond reason. Loving even when he wished he didn’t. Loving, and hurting, and having no regrets about it. Hurting, and being willing to go through all this pain all over again, for just a moment more…

He heaved a sigh without noticing, his eyelids lifting to be faced by a wall of darkness spotted with white snowflakes. He was ridiculous. You were leaving, that was the final proof he needed to be certain that he was nothing but a friend to you. If you felt anything for him, you wouldn’t be leaving… right? He had not left. He could have moved to the US a thousand times over, but you were in Ireland. Of course, you weren’t the only reason for him to stay, but you were easily the most important one, the one that carried the most weight.

What was the point of going home after a tour or a long recording session, if home wasn’t where you were?

Pathetic. That was what he was, pathetic…

Besides, you deserved better than what he could offer. Waiting for him for months on end? A constant back-and-forth between nations, a life stuck in a suitcase? No… no, you deserved better than that. Better than what he could offer you. Better than him…

And you were leaving. Final proof…

He held you tighter, and almost released it all in a breath.

Don’t go. Please, don’t go…

“Andy?”

He merely hummed in response.

“I’m pretty sure this is doing nothing to keep us warm.”

“I think it helps.”

“We’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Are you offering a game of strip-poker or something?”

You didn’t look up at him, face still buried in his shoulder, and yet he knew you were rolling your eyes.

“I must be crushing you.”

“You’re breaking all my bones, indeed.”

You tried to move away, but his hold tightened, and he looked down at you with confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving your life? Avoiding you to be crushed to death?”

“I was joking. I’m alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s… nice.”

You weren’t sure what to make of such comment, so you remained quiet instead, breathing deeply his scent, feeling it numb your senses.

“I’ve never seen such a snowstorm,” he pointed out, gaze lost into the darkness ahead.

“Me neither.”

“Not in this part of the world, at least.”

“Typical of Ireland to send me the storm of the century as a farewell gift.”

You felt Andrew tensing under you, his voice was colder than usual as he spoke, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“When will you leave? For good, I mean.”

“I have a month after this short stay to find myself a place to rent and get to work.”

“But you’ll come back to visit, right?”

“Yeah, of course! I mean… when I’m on vacation. To see my family.”

“Will I get some free housing in Geneva, then?”

“You thief, as usual.”

“You know me. Always the rascal.”

You closed your eyes as he started to rub your back, the gesture gentle and amazingly soothing.

“Aren’t you afraid to go there on your own?”

“Yeah… yeah, a little bit,” you admitted in a breath. “But… at least Tom will be there.”

“Tom?”

“Yeah, you know? My colleague? He’s very nice, I like him a lot. We’re leaving together.”

His tall frame tensed again, you caught the way his breath staggered.

“What do you mean Tom is leaving too?”

You stared into his hazel eyes; these eyes you dreamt of at night, the ones you adored. They had taken the hue of leaves before Autumn, deep green in a ray of sunshine. They always did when tears came to his eyes. And indeed, you were surprised as you fell into his gaze to find it blurred with tears.

“You… you’re leaving with him?” he asked, voice deeper than usual, shaky, vulnerable.

You were aware, now more than ever, of how close you were. You stared up at him, lost in his eyes, and you thought of how it would be so easy to lean up and kiss him, make his frown melt away, shush his worry with your lips…

“I thought… why…?”

You shrugged, unsure of what he meant to say.

“We’ve been approached by the same company. We’ll both move to Geneva.”

“Together?!”

“I mean… at the same time, yes.”

“But you’re…”

So that was it then… you had found someone else again. And this time you were leaving in another country with this man and…

And Andrew had lost you for good.

He was only too aware of how close the two of you were, of how easy it would have been to simply lean down to kiss you. Press his lips to yours, forget you were choosing someone else…

But he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t take it.

Instead of leaning closer, he pushed you away.

“Get off.”

You frowned at the roughness in his voice, the coldness in his tone, and Andrew wished he could control himself, be gentle, the way you deserved, but he needed to get away if he wanted to keep breathing…

“Please, get off me.”

You blinked tears away, and he hated himself for being the cause of such a sight, but he didn’t stop you when you ungracefully pushed yourself back into the driver’s seat. And Andrew watched as you stared at him, expectant, like you didn’t understand that you were breaking his heart in a million pieces…

And he couldn’t take it.

You were so surprised when Andrew opened the door and climbed out of the car that you didn’t stop him. He was already out of sight when you shook yourself enough to grab his phone, the only source of light available, and jumped out of the car as well.

The wind was bitterly cold as it assailed your cheeks, the snow rough and sharp digging into your skin.

“ANDREW!”

You hurried around the car, struggling with the slippery ground.

Above the wind, there was nothing to be heard but your own voice. Betrayed by the night, even this sound seemed to fade too fast to reach anything out of your sight. And Andrew was nowhere to be seen, the darkness too thick for that, the elements howling too loudly.

“ANDREW!”

A thud. A groan. A hiss. You followed the sounds in a hurry, and sure enough, mere seconds were needed to find your friend half-lying in the snow, a hand gripping at the low stone wall.

“ANDY!”

You kneeled by his side, uncaring of the sharp sting of the frozen ground under your knees.

“Are you alright?”

But he nodded, without a word. He seemed in pain, you brushed a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, and he leaned into your touch without noticing.

“You’re okay? What the fuck are you doing?!”

“You’re leaving for him, right?”

“What on earth are you talking about?!”

“TOM! FUCKING TOM!”

He moved away from your touch, but winced as he leaned against the wall. Your eyes grew round in worry, and when you turned the light towards the stones, there were traces of blood there.

“Oh God… Andy, you’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head.

“Let me see…”

But he stood up instead, and you followed close. He was towering you, the way he always did. The difference in height had not been so obvious in the car, but now, he was standing before you in his full, impressive height, and the way he glared made it more intimidating than usual.

“You’re really leaving for a fucking guy you met at work?!”

You frowned, shaking your head.

“Andy, I’m not…”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“Andy…”

“For how long have you two even been together?”

“We’re not! We’re not together.”

It was his time to frown in confusion.

“What?”

“Tom and I, we’re not together. We’ve been approached by the same company, that’s all. Although, if I’m being honest… I might give him a chance.”

“What?”

You noticed how he was out of breath, of course you did. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just…sad. Unbearably sad…

“Well, he’s nice… and… I know he likes me. But… can we go back to the car now?”

“Don’t go with him.”

You stared up at him, his hair messed by the wind as more strands were breaking free from his bun. Snowflakes stained the dark locks with white. Some got caught in his long eyelashes. The biting cold was turning his sharp cheekbones red. In the dim light, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, even though you could see the lips moving with the vowels, closing with consonants…

“Don’t go. Y/N… don’t go.”

These were words you were longing to hear, and yet, now that he was finally speaking them out loud, you couldn’t take them in.

He had acted like he didn’t care for weeks, and now, all of a sudden, he claimed that he was hurting?

“That’s rich coming from someone who spends barely any time home.”

You knew you were being mean, and you felt guilty as a shock of pain ran through Andrew’s features, enough so to bring tears back in his eyes. Still, you didn’t take your words back.

“That’s not the same. This… this is still my home.”

“This is a great opportunity for my career. This would be a new start. I’m excited about it. And Tom is nice. He likes me. He wants me…”

“You’re saying that like you don’t have a family and friends and people who love you already.”

“You know what I mean. This is a great opportunity, Andy. I want to take it.”

You noticed the way he clenched his jaw, the way the muscle jumped there as he lowered his gaze to the ground, nodding slowly.

“You’re right… that’s a great opportunity. You should take it…”

But instead of you agreeing, he was surprised as you huffed in annoyance, and turned your back to him.

“Get your arse back in the car, come on.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t understand what you want, Andy!” you hissed as you turned back to him, and he hated the sharpness in your voice, it felt like a knife. “You act like you don’t give two fucks about me leaving for weeks! And now… now you’re acting like you want me to stay…!”

“Of course, I want you to stay! But I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be here for you, and to support you and encourage you…”

“So you’re glad that I’m leaving?” your voice rising into a shout, and his tone matched yours when he answered, making you tremble under his deep, powerful voice.

“Of course not! Are you listening to yourself?! Why would I want you to move to fucking Geneva!”

“Because you didn’t say a thing about it!” you were crying, but you didn’t even notice, too busy letting your feelings out, at long last. “Because everyone else tried to convince me to stay, and you didn’t!”

“I tried to be supportive!”

“Well, I didn’t want you to supportive!”

“What did you want then?!”

“The truth!”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave! Here’s your fucking truth! And I don’t want you to leave with fucking Tom! I want you to choose me!”

He was out of breath now, and as he moved closer to you and the light you still held tightly in your hand, you finally noticed that he was crying as well.

“Choose you?” you asked, confused and slightly calmer, even if your voice kept on shaking. “Why would you want me to choose you…?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

The words were out before he could hold them in; failing this time at this game he had played a thousand times before, every time the words almost slipped out, when he bit his tongue until it hurt so you wouldn’t hear his heart. Your eyes grew round like you were surprised, shocked even, like this was not the most obvious truth in the world, like he had not spent years loving you in secret, leaving traces of his bleeding heart all over the place…

He almost wanted to laugh at you, at your round eyes and parted lips and all that snow caught in your hair and the way he longed to kiss that shock off your face. He didn’t though. Because you took a step back, and he read fear in your eyes, and he realised then that you were slipping away, sand between his fingers although he tried to hold tight.

“Y/N…” he breathed, voice taken away by the wind before it could reach you.

You hurried to the car instead of answering, and he followed you this time, shivering in the cold. And once you were back in the safety of your vehicle, the seats had lost their warmth, and the tiny space between the two of you seemed unbearably vast, a chasm you would never be able to close or cross.

You were both staring out by the windshield, while the snow finally receded. You could start driving again…

“Can you say something?”

“We should try to drive again.”

“Y/N… please…”

But as you turned to him, it was to stare at his palm, not his gaze.

“You’re bleeding.”

Andrew followed your gaze, looked down at his own hand. There was a long cut across the palm, red with blood, darkened with dirt on some spots. In the dim light, it was hard to tell how deep the cut was. It hurt, that was for sure. And yet, he didn’t care. You were more painful than an open wound.

“It’s nothing…”

“Let me see.”

You took off the gloves he had lent you, and Andrew didn’t have the strength to stop you as you gently reached for his hand, cradled it in yours, held it to the light to get a better view. Your skin was warm and soft against his cold one, and the thought that you could hate him, that you could resent him for sharing feelings he knew as unrequited made the tenderness of your hold almost unbearable.

“How did you hurt yourself?”

“I slipped in the snow. Caught myself to the wall. Sharp stone.”

You heaved a sigh, the sound was almost annoyed, but not quite. More like… worried.

“Hold the light, would you?”

He didn’t think as he obeyed, yielding to your will, the way he always did. You grabbed a bottle of water and some tissues from the glove box, and started to slowly clean up his cut. You were leaning closer to do so, and Andrew couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward as well, longing for your nearness, basking in the touch of your hand as it came back to cradle his, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

The breath he let out before speaking again was shaking.

“Do you hate me?”

You looked up, seemed to realize how close the two of you were. You could easily lean up and kiss him, and he could easily lean down and press his lips to yours. Instead, you both remained motionless, perfectly still, merely staring while he waited for an answer you thought was too obvious to be spoken.

“Why would I?” you asked back.

“Because… because we’re friends. And I caught feelings. And… maybe you hate me now that you know that I don’t… I don’t see a friend in you at all. Now that you know that I lied.”

But you didn’t answer, instead, you lowered your gaze again, and Andrew jumped and let out a hiss as you pressed the wet tissues against his broken skin.

“I’m not angry,” you finally reassured him. “I’m just… I don’t really believe you, I think.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you?”

You shrugged, and despite your claim of being calm, the smile that formed on your lips was bitter when you spoke.

“For how long have we been friends? And you’ve never said anything? Never felt anything, until I decided to go away? And now, all of sudden, you’re catching feelings?”

“I’ve never said these feelings were new.”

“You friendzoned me, back in the days. Do you remember that?”

Andrew winced, but nodded anyway.

“This… this was different.”

“Because I was just a friend?”

“Because I was the one leaving. Because it wasn’t fair to ask you out just to disappear for months while I was touring.”

Finally, you looked up again, trying to read something in his eyes, and whatever it was, Andrew hoped that you would find it there. He hoped you could see that he was being earnest, that he meant it, that there was no doubt to have. He had never doubted his love for you, even if he had refrained it. It had been a truth he had relied on for years. With a bit of luck, you might want to rely on it too…

“But then you came back… why didn’t you say anything then?”

“You weren’t single anymore. It was my turn to get friendzoned.”

The ghost of a smile formed on his lips, a soothing offering. But it was sad all the same.

“And after that?”

“After that… you were already my best friend. You… I didn’t want to lose you. And you… you deserved better than that. You deserve better than what I can give you. Waiting around while I disappear for months, what kind of life is that?”

You stopped breathing as he lifted his unharmed hand up to your face, brushing his fingertips across your cheek, the way he had longed to for years.

If his heart was staggering behind his ribs, if his breath was caught in his throat because of this gentle touch of your skin, when he closed his eyes to gather his strength, there was a tear breaking free.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t feel the same,” he shook his head as he opened his eyes again, falling into your gaze, and he saw there the same tears he tried to withhold in his own eyes. “I know it’s a one-sided thing. I didn’t… I didn’t want to break everything. I’m sorry.”

He was surprised when you shook your head and leaned into his touch, forcing his hand to open so he could cradle your face in his palm, long fingers disappearing into your hair and tenderly brushing your skin.

“God, you’re such an idiot.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow, not daring to move or reply. You started laughing, and he was at a loss.

“We’re both so damn stupid!”

He had to blink to make sure that he wasn’t imagining your movement as you slowly closed the gap between the two of you, as you leaned up to meet him. He was too surprised by it to meet you halfway; he was too taken aback by the feeling of your lips against his to kiss you back. It took him a couple of seconds to process that this was truly happening, that he was not, in fact, lost in one of the many dreams he’d had of this moment. But then your hand was in the mess of his curls, and you were pressing your lips more firmly against his, and he allowed himself to believe that you wanted this as well, that perhaps he had been, indeed, such an idiot for failing to see what was right in front of him, the same way you had missed all of his gestures along the years.

And you wished you could admit to yourself that you were keeping control over the situation, having instigated the kiss, but you melted into his touch the second Andrew responded and kissed you back. His hold on your face tightened slightly, a tinge of desperation held in the gesture. You tightened your hold on his wounded hand, and he responded by twisting his wrist until he could hold onto your hand too. You chased after him as he pulled away, but he left only for a second, just long enough to tilt his head slightly to the side, bettering the angle of his next kiss so he could deepen it. And the second you could properly taste him on your tongue, you lost track of everything but him: the warmth of his scent, the softness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, his curls running through your fingers, the gentle scratching of his beard, and the overwhelming feeling of being kissed by him. The feelings he poured into the intimate gesture… no one had ever kissed you like that before…

When you broke apart, at long last, both of you breathless, blinking the dizziness of the kiss away in an attempt to find back an earthly footing, Andrew pressed his forehead to yours, afraid, perhaps, that if he got too far, he would wake.

“I don’t see you as a mere friend either, in case that was still unclear,” you clarified, tone half-joking, making him smile.

“Right…”

“You’re okay?”

“Just… trying to assess whether I’m awake or dreaming right now.”

Playfully, you pinched his shoulder, making both of you laugh.

“Awake,” you confirmed. “Even your wild imagination could not have pictured the storm of the century as a background for our first kiss.”

“First? Can I have another, then?”

You couldn’t refrain a giggle, gently shaking your head at him, brushing your nose against his in the process.

“A true thief, as always.”

“Of the worst kind only.”

His thumb caressed your cheekbone, soft touch across your soft skin, making your eyes flutter shut as your heart lost its rhythm.

“If you want to take this job in Geneva, we can still make it work.”

You lifted your eyelids again and pulled back, just to fall right into his hazel eyes.

“Just… don’t choose Tom…”

You shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile. Your hands moved to hold his face in both of your palms, to make sure he would keep staring at you as you answered.

“Fuck Tom. Fuck Geneva. I’d rather go on a date with you.”

Andrew let out a chuckle, eyes crinkling as he smiled. Still, he had tears in his eyes all over again.

“You said it yourself, though. It’s a great opportunity for you.”

“I want to stay. If we give this a try, I want to stay.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll be away for months…”

“And you’ll be the one paying for the plane tickets, I’m not emptying my bank account when I’ve got a millionaire as a boyfriend.”

You both laughed, and Andrew nodded, at last.

“Fair enough.”

You were about to speak but didn’t have the time, Andrew was leaning to kiss you again instead, and you couldn’t complain, didn’t want to stop his fall towards your mouth.

He hissed and pulled away too fast though, after mere seconds, looking down at his wounded palm that he had tried to press against your back.

“I should clean this up, and then we can keep on driving,” you proposed, and Andrew agreed with a nod, obediently holding his hand still while you took care of him. He did lean to kiss your forehead a couple of times though, and you were both still quite amazed that he could do it, or that he wanted to.

You would have to get used to it though. After the storm had passed, after you had found your way back onto the right road, after you had reached your destination, there was plenty of time to talk, to confess feelings you had both refrained for too long, for holding onto each other too tightly, for kissing until lips were bruised and numb and yet still willing.

Perhaps, this trip was not such a disaster, after all…

[hydrus101]

PART 43 SPOILERS

It's a marginally less important fact comparative to literally everything else that happened this episode, but the one little part that has been grating on my mind like a splinter, for the entire month I've been able to stew on this, is that while in the Dark World, John had a kingdom.

A kingdom. "Of sorts."

The implications of this are fascinating; yes , you can view it as John regressing. A relapse, perhaps, falling back on his old ways in a moment of fear and uncertainty and anger and spite, but what if it was more than that, not just a byproduct of emotions running high? What the reaction was...lower...than that, more foundational, more base?

What if it was instinct?

What if it was purpose?

We've known now, for a long long time, that names serve as a core theme: the duality of Noel and Charlie, of Andrew and Wallace, of John and the King, of every single one of Arthur's aliases, reinforced even more so now by the christening of Yorick. It's the dichotomy of choosing names or being named. Active. Passive. We've known this.

We’ve heard time and time again that names have power, and we know that form follows function, and we know that Kings are meant to rule. That is their purpose, that is their function, that is what they do.

And it makes me wonder then, what was the King's role in the Dreamlands? What purpose did he serve? In Part 14, way back in the beginning, John, with his limited memory, says, “As powerful as [the KiY] is, he doesn’t own this domain.”

He doesn't own it, yet he rules it. We know now that there are creatures, monsters, gods, with considerably more power than Hastur. Shub-Niggurath, Nyarlathotep, fucking Azathoth, Lord of All things, Supreme Deity of not just the Great Old Ones, but the Outer Gods. Relatively, the King in Yellow ranks low. Incredibly low. Yet, the Dreamlands, are his, or as far as he is allowed to claim them as his.

And I think hes allowed to be in charge because he serves a function there. He has a role. Greater than his own whims and desires, perhaps known to him, or perhaps so base an instinct that its second nature, easy as breathing.

In Part 40, right before Kayne casts Larson and Company, he says “Tell Yellowhead that the Dreamlands is a lawless waste without him, will you?”

A lawless waste. Lawless. Without him. Without him, there is no law.

And That is the King's function.

He is Order. He is Control. He is Structure. He is King.

And who better to instill that structure than a being that cloaks itself in madness?

Conflicting forces can only exist in opposition to each other - you cannot have light without having known darkness, you cannot have death without first having life - and you cannot have madness without having once been sane. These two facets are not contradictory, they are complimentary, two halves of a single whole. Two sides of the coin.

John was regressing - yes - when he returned to the Dark World. He was losing his humanity, losing the very thing that made him more than just a function, more than just the King. He was lost and afraid, uncertain and weary, and so of course he would settle back into his function, back into subjugation and terror and madness, because it was easy, because he wasn't quite as human as he could have been, because it felt right, because it was all he had known how to do before all of this, in all of those eons before. Of course he would fall back on old ways. Of course he would. He would try desperately to apply structure to a world bereft of it, because without Arthur, without humanity, he knew nothing else.

But hes not that anymore, not just a function. He's not King. He's John. And John, in the words of the witch, may she rot in hell forevermore, has "decided to be something that robs the world of its King." But this world doesn't need that function, that King. It doesn't need John's rule. He is a cog, broken free from the machine, and he is whatever he wants to be.

[thestarstoasun]

Part 1

Blue eyes met worried dark ones. Instantly, he heard Nico's voice, but he couldn't make out what he said. Will tried to pinpoint where all of the pain was coming from, but everything just felt wrong. It took much of his willpower to focus on his surroundings, well those outside of the beautiful dark-haired boy we had woken up to.

The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in the infirmary. While it made the instinct to not look for his older brother whom he knew wouldn't be there easy to ignore, it also made him feel uneasy. Where were they? How had they gotten here?

"-olace. Will!" Nico's accented voice cut through his thoughts. A cold hand holding tightly to his overheating one.

"You sound like an angel." Will wasn't sure why his mouth didn't get the memo that admiring Nico in dire situations normally stays in his thoughts, but before he could try to form any coherent way of "taking it back" Nico's cheeks tinted pink, and suddenly it was well worth it.

"Don't think compliments and flattery are going to save your ass." The pale boy scowled, though it was hardly as affective as it should have been. "Honestly, what the Hades were you thinking?"

Will tried to filter through his brain for any recollection of what Nico could be referring to, but it seemed his brain still hadn't caught up with the present. He was happy to be able to lift his hand to brush against Nico's cheek with confused eyes. "I don't understand. Where are we? What happened?"

Nico seemed to tense up and let out a quiet sigh. "We're still in Tartarus, Will. Right now, we are in the hut that belongs to Damasen. Small Bob brought us here." Will nodded and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Is he- is he around?” Will couldn't help but wince at how weak and pathetic his voice sounded. He was sure Nico noticed, but his boyfriend didn't say a word about it. “Damasen went out to find something that may help you. I fed you some ambrosia earlier..Will, I'm sorry. Shit, if I paid more atten-”

The blonde leaned up (much to the protest of his body) and grabbed Nico by the boy's aviator jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but exactly what they both needed. “It's alright, Nico. I'd do anything for you.” Even if he couldn't exactly remember what happened, he could piece things together. After all, he wasn't stupid. Waking up in the hut of someone who was said to help with healing, Nico's worried eyes, ambrosia, Lee, all of it fell into place. Will had taken a near-fatal blow for Nico…and he would do it again in a heartbeat.

“If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. I know how much you've lost people and I-”

“William Andrew Solace, if you apologize for saving my life so help me.” Nico was looking at the ground, shaking his head. His voice was filled with fond exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You could take care of me? Nurse me back to health?” Will could feel his cheeks heating up. Before this trip, it was something he would have never mentioned. Will Solace was not someone who got taken care of. Will Solace took care of others. Will Solace smiled through the pain. Will Solace didn't allow himself to break down or cry. Will Solace had to be a ray of sunshine in everyone's life. Will Solace had no darkness inside of him…

Or did he? Ever since his meeting with the goddess Persephone, Will couldn't help but think of all the times he so desperately wanted to cry for his big brothers. The hatred he felt towards Percy for months after the Battle of Manhattan, despite knowing it wasn't his fault. (He only didn't let Will look for Michael, but it's fine. Will has accepted it.) All of the times he felt like breaking under the pressure of being the perfect older brother and head counselor.

The truth was that Will Solace did have darkness inside of him - it was just hidden by the overwhelming light. Trust is a two-way road, and if he wants Nico to give him trust, he needs to show that he trusts Nico in return. Will wants to show Nico his darkness. He wants to allow himself to be cared for once again. It's a revelation that shocks him more than probably anything else so far on this trip, though it's not over yet. They still have to find Bob the Titan.

“Yeah, I'll take care of you.” Nico's voice is so soft that Will almost misses it, but he doesn't miss the comforting squeeze the cold hand in his warm one brings.

“Nico, can I tell you about my older brothers?”

“Go ahead, Will. We have a little time to rest.” Those soft brown eyes looked at him with such understanding and love that Will felt things were gonna be alright for the first time in a while.

[lovewisegirl06]

ANDREIL HEADCANONS FOR THE SOUL:

- Neil doesn't like sweets (Canon fact) but he was willing to take baking classes in order to gift Andrew some chocolate cookies for his birthday (Among other things he learned how to prepare) If the foxes notice him walking funny the next day, Andrew's death stare kept them at bay.

- Andrew knows Neil's schedule and makes sure to remind him to take something with him to eat between breaks. Sometimes he makes small sandwiches and Neil dies inside every time he finds one in his bag.

-Neil leaves post it notes in the fridge when he goes out for a run and Andrew keeps them inside a small box (He also keeps there the receipts from every book Neil has gifted him and of the places they have gone to different dates.)

- When Neil has a nightmare and can't go back to sleep, Andrew tells him about the new book or series he's been paying attention to lately. As they get better with touching and casual PDA, Andrew lets Neil rest his head on his chest and curls his fingers through those red curls until Neil falls asleep again. (Somewhere down the line, this starts happening even when the nightmares are gone.)

- Once, Andrew took a class where he learned how to profile criminals. Neil helped him with all his assignments because damn is he good at figuring people out.

- Sometimes, when Andrew wants to mess with Neil before a game, he leans in and whispers in Russian "The amount of times you score tonight, it's the amount of times I'll let you score when we're alone" at first Neil doesn't get it, but later when they are...celebrating...well, while he's catching his breath and his tights are trembling and he's panting like he ran a marathon and Andrew asks him if he can give him a fourth one...How can he say no? (Kevin and later on Robin learned to make themselves scarce when Neil is determine to at least score five times during a game)

- When Andrew graduates and they are doing long distance, they make sure to call each other every night to talk or simply hear each other breathe. It's the only times Neil keeps his phone fully charged.

- Andrew once tells Neil how there was a cat on one of his foster homes and how much he liked the cat, especially since once that furball scratched and fought when his foster father entered his bedroom one night. Neil mentions how they should get one when they are living together after graduation and can't understand why Andrew kisses him with so much desperation (It's the fact he said When instead of If. But Andrew won't tell him that)

- During Halloween of Neil's second year, Allison wanted to win a bet and convinced Neil to dress up as a bunny (I'm talking about shorts with high tights and bunny ears, with drawn moustaches and everything) Andrew kept quiet the entire time at Eden's and Neil through something bad had happened. Later that night, when he was riding Andrew in their room at Columbia and he heard the "That's it, keep doing that bunny" he understood it was anything but bad. (And if the pet name stuck, it's between them and them only) (Oh my God, maybe I'll write a one shot about this? Should I?)

- Sometimes Neil lets out words in the different languages he knows because he can't remember the English word (Things we bilinguals know can happen) Andrew refuses to tell him the correct word and it's one of the few times something akin to a smile appears on his face.

-Andrew allows Neil to fight his own battles, especially regarding Jack. But after Neil punched the guy, Andrew made sure to carefully explained him what would happen if he ever made another comment towards Neil's appearance.

- Neil leaves scratches down Andrew's back when they're having sex. The first time it happened and he was about to apologize, Andrew pounded into him so hard he saw stars. Andrew won't say it, but he finds the tiny marks something interesting to look at after they're done (Plus, Neil only does it when he's about to come, so it's a great tell tale if he wants to edge him for a while. Scientific purposes)

[dayurno]

what do u like about allison? not attacking u or anything she's just always fell flat to me and im open to enlightenment

shes funny to me :) i like that she's catty and entitled and insufferable, but that there are moments where it slips (namely grieving seth, but also offering herself up to be a confidante to neil, crumpling into renee after andrew hurts her) and we get to see that she's terrified of herself And others and that money could not buy her a sense of self nor a reasonable emotional framework. there are also small things about her that i just find endearing, like the few times where her and matt act like siblings (when the foxes get rained on and matt takes a picture of her looking soaked, much to her horror, and when jeremy shows the foxes his game plan for the semi finals and allison tugs incessantly at matts sleeve to let her see it) and her horrible betting problem, the way she knew neil caused seth's death but also knew she couldn't live her whole life with that grudge, her gossip habits, the way she desperately wants to fix everything with money (taking the foxes out to the cabins after neil got kidnapped always seemed like such an obvious attempt to soothe the team to me, but allison was not raised on affection and the only way she can conceive it is through what she can offer them in monetary terms + i'm reminded of the bit in the ec that allison keeps a trustfund for the foxes' children and that she pays for renee's child's medical bills) etc!

i do mean it when i say that allison and kevin are not all that different, and they have a very similar understanding (or lack thereof) of the way relationships work, but allison can be such a steorotype sometimes it's hard to allow ourselves to see her as anything but a tall hot glass of skank, whereas we naturally give kevin more nuance and space for humanity because we are taught to believe men are more capable of complexity than women. one of my favorite allison is kevin in a wig moments is the fact that allison's goal with seth ('to make a real man out of him', to give him something to live for, to make him want to achieve it) is exactly the same as kevin's goal with andrew

[fortheloveofexy]

you’ve made me think about ichirou as a foil to neil and now i can’t stop thinking about it!!! 

both heirs to empires they never chose, both inheriting horrors no child should ever witness. both having their edges carefully and strategically chiseled off and smoothed over in order to fit their fathers’ shadows. and the difference being that neil’s mother was around and neil’s mother got him out and neil’s mother couldn’t save him but still shielded him from the worst of it. and ichirou had no one to do that for him. neil escaped the same fate that ichirou became resigned to

OH AND the significance of ichirou being the one to ultimately “free” all of them in the end?? aaahh!!!!

- @you-know-i-get-itt

He is SUCH a foil for Neil!! Also his relationship (or lack thereof) with Riko is also a foil for the Twinyards in a lot of ways.

Both separated at a young age, never allowed to know one another, one brother desperate to reach out and connect while the other appears indifferent... (the difference being that Andrew feigned indifference in an attempt to protect Aaron, while Ichirou was indifferent because he was raised to believe Riko was worthless). The Twinyards killing for each other without hesitation versus Ichirou who kills Riko without batting an eye... I could go on and on.

Then you add in how he's a foil for Allison (the heiress who walked away from everything versus the heir who could never escape) and it's just 🤌🏻 so damn good

[leons-lady]

If The World Ended

Based on Die With A Smile - Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars + those sad tiktok edits of Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy + The End of the World by Skeeter Davis

“Wait… just—just hang on, Leon. Just hold on—please! Wake up… Leon? Leon!”

Prue cried out, cradling the blond haired male's head in her hands as she caressed his cheek gently with her thumb; her dark brown eyes glossy when a stray tear betrayed her pent up feelings she'd kept locked away to prevent herself from going through so much pain. The vulnerability was too much for her to handle, but she would feel everything for the man that lay unmoving in her arms. Even if it made her feel like a piece of paper being shredded to the tiniest bit until there had been nothing left of her to give.

And yet. . .

Blood trickled down Leon's nose, indicating the harsh impact of the long fall damage he'd taken when Harry Osborn, Prue's former childhood friend turned villain—the Green Goblin, had snatched up Leon from where he had stood, taking him up to the clock tower of New York. Leon knew how to fight back. He worked under a government agency, after all. He knew what to do against villains like Harry who had been too lost to be pulled back to the right side.

“Don't go… please, don't go. Not like this. Not like this… come back… you can't die like this, Leon…”

Still it wasn't enough.

Despite his professional career, it served as a reminder to the limitations of a human's mortality the moment time slowed down when Leon was falling a long way down from within the clock tower. Everything happened so fast yet so slowly at the same time. Prue's senses had been completely heightened at that instance. What tore her apart was the fact she could hear his heart racing a hundred beats per minute. The fear that had shown on his usual stoic and strong features was painted on his handsome face as the masked heroine leaped down in an attempt to catch the agent by whatever means.

It felt like the world was crashing all around them at once and there was nothing Spider-Woman could do for Prue to save Leon.

Her webs shot out from her wrist, forming into a hand, desperately reaching out to grab him—and for a second—she allowed herself to hope that she could do it. She'd vowed that if she could save him, she would push him away if he'd lived. That this would be their last time together. It was too risky for him to be with Spider-Woman. He knew how to handle himself, he said. He wanted to be close to her. He wanted to stay.

So he stayed.

“You think you can get rid of me that easily?” He had told her once. He had found someone who knew what it was like to suffer all the responsibilities of protecting human lives, to suffer the consequences of losing said lives—he wasn't going to let her go. He dug his heels into the ground, and he made sure Prue wouldn't be able to pry him away from her. They were a team, and he'd be damned if she tried to take that away from him.

But this was something he and Prue hadn't seen coming from a mile away. Her spider senses weren't as advanced as she'd wished they could've been that night. Seeing him this way was sobering enough, serving as a reminder that he was more than the government's personal weapon. That he was more man than machine as they made him to be. That he loved, lost, feared and cared more than they made him out to be otherwise.

The sound of his neck cracking on impact whether from the harsh pull of her webs or the concrete after falling for what seemed like eternity… the specifics didn't matter. Prue blamed herself for it all. When he couldn't open his eyes—it was her fault. When his heart stopped beating—it was because of her. When his body turned cold—her fault. Her organic webs backed up at the wrong time… shortening out on Leon's abdomen, being the cause of his death right then and there. She felt sick to her stomach as bile formed at the back of her throat the second she ripped her mask off of her head, dark curls falling freely from the material as she rushed to Leon's side as he hung from the web, hovering over the ground; the world's cruelest joke of having Prue's loved one dangling before her—taunting her for her failures.

She had never wanted to end it all right then and there, joining Leon in death than she did at that moment. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry… she wanted everything to stop. She wanted to die. She wanted to rip her chest open until she was exposed from the inside out. She wanted it all to end.

She was suffocating; drowning in her emotions and self-loathing as she embraced the male in her arms, taking in his faint scent for one last time. Her body trembled violently as she let out a choked out sob, burying her face into the crook of Leon's neck, running her fingers through his soft locks in an attempt to comfort herself even despite being undeserving of it.

Memories of their time together flooded through her mind as she held Leon's cold cheek in her hand. Her lower lip trembling as she thought back to their first encounter. He had flown to New York City for a mission—a deadly one based on a bioterrorist threatening to wipe out humanity by transforming them into the undead. He dealt with special cases whereas Spider-Woman dealt with weird villains in animal or other themed costumes—if not, literal powerful beings the human mind would not be able to comprehend. They understood each other. They just got along very well. They had responsibilities to their own occupations and at the end of the day, they were still able to look each other in the eye and see a person on the other side. They saw each other for who they were, not what they were.

She'd come in right where Leon was struggling with a particular bioweapon—a tyrant and Spider-Woman made her first appearance in his vicinity. Swinging in, launching herself at the tyrant with speed and agility of a literal spider; using her webs to hold the tyrant down whilst Leon and his companions would finally take it down along with the infected citizens of NYC much to Prue's dismay at the realization of how deep the situation had been. Leon had been so perplexed by her abilities; and this warranted his companions—Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers to interrogate Prue as they had made assumptions of her being a “bioweapon” of some kind. She certainly wasn't any average human being.

Their “accidental” encounters after the first. The coincidental gentle brushes of their hands or the way his hand felt so comforting when on the small of her back or her shoulder after a particularly rough patrol that ended in Prue getting her ass handed to her very badly. Those moments where they would both go to each other and nurse the other's wounds that needed tending to. Those lingering glances they'd make on the other, catching each other staring at the other's lips for a mere second before averting their gaze.

Long story short, when their eyes met that day… there was an undeniable connection that had formed that should've terrified Prue. It should've scared her to the point to walk away, to pretend she's never met Leon Scott Kennedy. It should've.

But she didn't walk away.

She stayed.

The cold, bitter rain felt like razor blades on her skin as the water filtered through the ruins of the clock tower as she sat there, holding Leon's body in her arms. Dark eyes bloodshot, puffy and swollen as a low ringing noise filled her ears in the distance. Her curls stuck to her soaked cheeks and her suit clung to her body uncomfortably, causing her to shiver but she didn't care. She missed him already. The one person who had understood her needs to keep her abilities and identity a secret… to keep events like these from happening to begin with. She thought it was because of his work as a field agent that it would be easier for her to deal with her own enemies without worrying about his safety—that everything would be alright. That life would be okay afterwards. That they would continue to be together after the toughest mission of their lives.

How could she have been so foolish?

“Wait for me, Leon.”

♡

.

.

.

♡

I forgot how writing for myself is so incredibly fucking CRINGE, BRO. BROTHER EUGHHHH. I haven't written in a like 7 years so I'll let it slide this time. I'd explain my oc/self insert's lore, but it's so complicated man let's just beam the information into your head and pretend you know exactly what I'm talking about. Also crossover fandoms! Spiderverse x Resident Evil. I don't know what I be yapping about in my writing but I just wanted to put my own spin on Peter losing Gwen in TASM but with Prue losing Leon!

Also, sorry if things don't make sense like at all. I'm very rusty and my mind is more about like romancing my fave or making things angsty lmaooo so mhm.

[constelationprize]

The Kayleigh Day Lives AU - Part 3

Also known as Congratulations, Wymack, it's a boy! He is also already 20 years old and horribly traumatised

So I think that after the banquet Kayleigh goes to some ERC after party to schmooze a bit, maybe with the explicit intention of undermining the rumor of Kevin being better than Riko. Like "do you think I'd let anyone hold MY son back? *Nervous laugh*"

Smash cut to the match between Riko and Kevin

Kayleigh is halfway back to the hotel when she gets Kevin's call. He's immediately locked himself in a bathroom while Jean helps distract Riko.

Now she knows this is BAD bad for a couple reasons. For one, hands have very delicate bones, and full recoveries from severe blunt trauma injuries are hard and rare. Second, there's the fact that this confirms her suspicions that Kevin was being mistreated from behind her back. Third, she knows they won't let her take him to a hospital right now. And last, but not least, it's going to be very hard to get away with double homicide once she gets her hands on Tetsuji and Riko.

Kayleigh has to make a snap judgment if she wants to help her son, in a way that won't put either of them in more danger. She can't trust Tetsuji anymore, so she goes over him.

Now, I don't think she would have access directly to Kengo, but during her years as a Moriyama asset she has amassed enough goodwill she has a few contacts in the main branch. People who are worried about Tetsuji overeaching with his little project.

She calls them and very carefully chooses her words. She says that Riko has dealt Kevin a potential carreer-ending injury and that the best way to control that narrative is going to be playing it off as an accident and taking Kevin out of the public eye for a while, transfering him out of Edgar Allan so people focus on that drama instead of questioning the origin of his injury. She doesn't necessarily threaten going public with what she knows if they don't allow her to take him safely out of the Nest, because she isn't stupid, but it IS implied.

Kayleigh gets half an hour to take Kevin out of the hotel before she herself has to report back. Wherever he's going, she can't come with, as insurance.

That... Somewhat hinders her options.

But, well. David Wymack is in town.

Kevin has found the letter in this universe too, because Tetsuji would have it regardless, but he took Kayleigh at her word when she explained it was for the best that Wymack not know.

This is not a can of worms Kayleigh ever intended to open. But there is a saying about desperate times and desperate measures.

Which is how she ends up picking up Kevin, badly bandaging his hand, and going after the Palmetto State Foxes.

She catches up with them right as they are piling onto the bus to leave. She almost his the bus with her car. It's a mess.

It gets worse once she and Kevin get out, though.

Wymack is alarmed and confused and oh my God Kayleigh what the fuck is your badly injured son doing here.

And she says something to the likes of "First of all, that's OUR badly injured son"

There is a lot of screaming. Dan thinks she's having a stroke. Wymack is torn between confusion and rage. Kevin is going into shock, like, the medical condition. Abby is trying to weave her way to him because someone has to give that boy some actual first aid. Kayleigh's time is running out and she doesn't have time to stand here in this parking lot and justify every questionable decision she has made in the last thirty years. Tetsuji just found out about everything and starts blowing up her phone.

Andrew is crashing from his meds cycle and sleeps through the whole thing.

There is literally no time to untangle any of this, so Kayleigh just tells Wymack that Kevin will explain everything after they take him to the hospital. Preferably in South Carolina because the farther they are from Riko, the better.

No one is happy with this turn of events. It's for certain, though, that things will get a lot worse before it gets better.

On another note, Aaron just won himself like 200 dollars, and it might just be enough to ask that cute cheerleader in his class on a nice date.

[biboybuckley]

Dead Eyes

Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard | 2.8k | Teen and Up Audiences | Hurt/Comfort: Nightmare Edition

Neil has a nightmare and, despite his best efforts to handle it on his own, Andrew is there.

read on ao3

Neil didn’t expect the nightmares to stop. He never allowed himself the delusion of thinking that with his father gone and his mind and body both working through the achingly slow process of healing - one he isn’t sure will ever end - to imagine that the ghosts of his past life and the memories woven into their faces would ever stop tormenting him, especially in his sleep. 

But. Still.

There’s a part of him now, as he clutches the edges of the sink with a white knuckled grip and grinds his teeth together so hard he things he may break them, that desperately wishes he could seal his demons in a box, throw it into the deepest recess of his mind, and have a little time before they clawed their way back out. 

It doesn’t work like that, and Neil knows it, but he’d like to be able to open his eyes. 

He has them clenched tightly shut, his entire face screwed up, every muscle in his body tense and taught with a herculean effort to stop shaking. He was shaking when he woke up, he was shaking when he stumbled his way out of bed into the bathroom, but he swears he almost shook all the way apart when he caught his own reflection in the mirror. 

Dead eyes stared back at him. 

He tried wearing contacts again - briefly, last summer after everything with Ichirou was settled - but it didn’t take. When he’d walked out of the bathroom, Andrew had taken one look at him and caught his chin in an unforgiving grip when Neil tried to sidestep him. 

“No,” Andrew had said simply, but the look in his eyes was fierce and the clench of his jaw was tight. 

“I’m sick of seeing him,” Neil countered. Andrew hadn’t budged. 

“Then don’t see him,” he said after a beat. As if it were that easy. “See you.”

“I can’t-”

“He doesn’t get to take anything anymore.”

Neil’s response died in his throat as he tried to process that. 

Andrew released him with a shove back towards the bathroom. “Take them out.”

Neil knew he didn’t have to, that Andrew would give in if Neil pushed back, but Neil just swallowed his argument and took the contacts out. 

Now, with his eyes squeezed shut so hard it’s already giving him a headache, Neil wishes he hadn’t let Andrew throw them all out. He’d almost tried to save a pair, but one look from Andrew said all it needed to convince him not to. The contacts were a way to hide. Neil wasn’t doing that anymore. He had no one to hide from.  No one but myself, he thinks bitterly now. A tremor travels down his spine, sending gooseflesh across his skin. His chest feels tight and his breath shudders as he tries to inhale deeply through his nose and slowly through his mouth.

Having his eyes closed isn’t great either. All it does is allow the remnants of his nightmare to flash unbidden behind his eyelids, for the ghosts that cling to his very soul to torment him further. 

 You could just not look at the mirror, a voice in his head reminds him. But, no. No, he can’t. If he opens his eyes, they’ll find his own reflection again.

Neil spent a lot of time avoiding mirrors directly following his stint with Lola and Nathan, but eventually he got comfortable enough with his own reflection so it wasn’t really a problem. But when he’s like this, it’s like there are invisible fingers guiding his face towards the mirror, urging him to look, not allowing him to wrench his gaze away from his own eyes. 

He’s working on it. Well, he’s trying to. But it’s a hard thing to work on when failure means spiraling so deeply into his own demons that he’s made himself sick before. 

No, the dark of his own mind is better. Even if it is plagued by dead parents and sadistic smiles, knives and fire. 

Neil clenches his fingers a little tighter around the cold porcelain. Dimly, he worries he might break it. But he’s far too concerned now with finding some semblance of solidity, and the bite of the ceramic into his flesh - too dull to break his skin, but hard enough to bruise - offers him that. Offers him a small reminder that he’s real, and he’s here, and he’s not breaking apart into a million pieces despite what it may feel like. His stomach may churn and his throat may feel like it’s collapsing in on itself, and he may not be able to stop fucking shaking, but he’s here. 

He strains his ears, listening for any sounds from the other room. But there’s two doors between him and Andrew, and even then Andrew barely makes a sound in his sleep. Neil’s just grateful he manages to slip out of bed without stirring the other man. 

A part of Neil knows it’s stupid, that Andrew will probably be pissed in the morning if he somehow pieces together that Neil didn’t wake him, but Neil knows there’s been plenty of times Andrew hasn’t woken him. 

Another part of him, a part of him that he is trying valiantly to smother right now, desperately wishes he had woken Andrew, that Andrew was a solid line behind him for Neil to lean into and a secure pair of arms to hold him together so Neil didn’t have to do it himself. 

Neil blames that small, weak part of himself for what happens next. 

A thin, reedy sound falls from his lips and he struggles through another breath, his head dropping down between his shoulders as he twists his fingers in a desperate attempt to feel the porcelain bite into his skin. 

Fire. He’s on fire. 

There’s flames licking at his cheekbones, burning down his throat, skating across his skin. He’s burning from the inside out and he has no way to put it out. He can only twist his grip on the sink tighter and tighter as waves of flames travel down his body, rocking him harshly as his muscles tremble. He’s panting now, harsh breaths puffing through his clenched teeth as he screws up his face, his eyes staying shut as sparks dance behind his eyelids. 

It’s an eternity before the flames release him, leaving him sagging against the sink, not letting up his death grip for even a moment as he tries to catch his breath. Absently, he notes a tear working its way down his cheek. There’s a dull throbbing in his fingers from how hard he’s clenching the ceramic. His head is pounding now, in time with his racing pulse. 

The scars he carries feel ripped open, and it takes all his willpower to convince himself that’s not possible and he’s not bleeding out onto the floor. Still, the tremors become harder as phantom blood tracks down his skin. 

His breaths are coming fast despite his best efforts to calm himself, and he can feel frustrated tears burn behind his eyes. It feels as though the demons in his mind are stabbing hot knives at every vulnerable spot they can find, slicing his mental defenses to little ribbons with glee. 

Nathan’s cold smile flashes behind his eyelids and he can feel his own lips curving into a cruel mockery of it. The insane urge to laugh bubbles up in his chest, but he stamps it back down. He doesn’t need Andrew walking in on him laughing maniacally as he attempts to crush their sink to dust beneath his fingers. 

He swallows his laughter and tries to count to ten and then back to zero in as many languages as he can. It works well enough for the laugh to shrivel and die in the hollow cavity of his chest, but soon enough the numbers - he got as far as Russian - get lost in the static fuzz of his panicked mind. Every part of him wants to run right now. 

Neil knows he could just go for a run of Perimeter Road, but he’s not sure he trusts himself enough in this state to not just keep running. It’s his first instinct, a feeling so familiar it may as well be carved into his bones, woven through the strands of his DNA. He’s not sure if he’s gripping the sink so hard to keep himself from flying apart or to keep himself from bolting. Either way, he grips it like his very life depends on it, and he grinds his teeth, and he tries to continue his Russian counting. 

In the state he’s in, his mind a haze of panic and every nerve ending set on fire with adrenaline, Neil is hyper aware of his surroundings. He feels the brush of the very air against the skin of his arms, feels the sweat beading on his brow, feels the press of his cotton T-shirt resting against his chest. 

He hears when one of the floor boards in the bedroom creaks. 

Neil strains his ears, his breath catching in his throat. 

He hears the first door open. 

Run.

He hears another step land on the floor. 

Run!

He hears the bathroom door open. 

RUN!

He forces himself to still, the trembling beneath his skin fighting against every ounce of willpower he’s using to quell it. He can’t feel Andrew, but he knows he’s there, just a mere two feet away. 

He holds his breath still, waiting through the agonizingly long moments before-

“Yes or no?” 

Andrew’s voice is rough with sleep, thick with something Neil can’t piece together right now, and unwaveringly firm. 

“Yes,” Neil chokes out on his second attempt to answer, barely anything more than a ragged gasp tearing itself from his throat, clawing its way out whether Neil wants it to or not. 

In an instant, Andrew’s there, a solid line of heat at his back. A heavy palm lands on the back of his neck, hot fingers squeezing the sides of his throat in a silent command. Neil jerks his head in a harsh no. He can’t. He can’t move, he can’t do what Andrew wants, he can’t think, he can’t-

“Neil.” Andrew’s voice is a low rumble, softening the turmoil inside of Neil, flowing over him like golden honey. But his shoulders instinctively hunch higher, the lines of tension in his body blocking out Andrew despite Neil’s desperation to give in to him. 

“Neil.”

Neil lets out a thin sound through clenched teeth, straining to get the words out, to explain to Andrew that he can’t move or he won’t stop moving until he’s running. That the only reason he’s still here is because he won’t let himself move. 

But he doesn’t have to say a word. He never really does when it comes to Andrew, never has. Andrew just… knows. 

The grip on the back of his neck tightens and Andrew tugs Neil roughly, but so painfully gently all at the same time, towards him. Neil’s hands refuse to listen, gripping the sink. 

“Let go.” 

As if it were that easy. 

“Let. Go.” A warning growl tinges Andrew’s words and he pulls Neil at the same time, and Neil loses his grip on the ceramic edges with a harsh gasp. Before he can fall or shatter or dissipate into nothing, though, he’s yanked into Andrew’s solid chest, the hand on the back of Neil’s neck squeezing fiercely, the other coming up to grip his shoulder. 

Neil’s hands, desperate for something to cling to, find purchase in Neil’s own shirt, a fist digging into his stomach, and in Andrew’s, clutching the fabric of his shirt just the the side of where Neil’s forehead is pressed into Andrew’s chest, held there by Andrew’s own hand. 

It isn’t until Neil starts to feel the steady thump of Andrew’s pulse beneath his knuckles that Neil is able to suck in a full, ragged gasp of air instead of the short bursts he’d been gasping since Andrew touched him. Andrew doesn’t move, Neil can barely even feel the rise and fall of his breaths. The only sign he has that Andrew is alive and real and there is the pounding of his heart beneath Neil’s own touch.

“Breathe,” Andrew instructs, like it’s just that simple. 

But Neil gave himself over to Andrew the moment he released the sink. And Andrew says to breathe. 

Neil takes a slow breath, the cool air soothing his burning lungs and raw throat. He sucks in deep breath after deep breath through clenched teeth, guided by the stroke of Andrew’s fingers on the back of Neil’s neck, grounded by the press of Andrew’s chin into the crown of Neil’s head. He thinks he hears Andrew murmur Good into his hair, but he has no way of knowing if he actually did. 

After several minutes of neither of them moving, Andrew pulls back slightly. Neil tries to move with him, a small, broken sound falling from his lips. The hand that isn’t on Neil’s neck moves to grip his chin, forcing Neil to stop and face Andrew. 

“Look at me,” Andrew says.

Neil’s voice trembles and cracks, “I can’t.”

“Neil.” Neil just gives an aborted shake of his head, stopped by Andrew’s grip on his chin. “Abram.” Neil sucks in a sharp breath. “Look at me.” 

Neil opens his eyes. 

Hazel eyes, fiery and fierce with an emotion Neil’s spent brain doesn’t have the dedication to find a name for right now, stare back at him. Andrew’s jaw is tense, concern written in the tight corners of his mouth and slight crease of his brow. 

His eyes - Neil’s always loved Andrew’s eyes, even before he realized he loved them - search Neil’s own. The tight panic in Neil’s chest begins to unravel further under Andrew’s steady gaze. He releases his death grip on Andrew’s shirt, pressing a flat palm to his chest instead, feeling the thump of his heart once more. His other fist stays pressed into his own stomach, clenching his shirt tightly. 

But his breaths come easier now, and the fog of panic is beginning to lift. His jaw aches as he lets some of the tension release. 

“Who was it?” Andrew asks after a long beat of silence. 

Neil instantly stiffens again, his breath stopping in his throat and threatening to choke him. 

Andrew squeezes the back of his neck again, fiercely. Neil refocuses on Andrew’s eyes, resisting the replay of his nightmare that’s starting in his own mind. 

Andrew doesn’t ask again, just stares Neil down and grips the back of his neck so tight it's just this side of painful. 

It takes Neil a few tries to get the names out. “Nicky. Nicky and Dan.”

The only sign that he actually said it aloud is a tightening of the muscles around Andrew’s mouth and a nearly imperceptible nod. His death grip on Neil’s neck relaxes, his fingers petting through the fine hair at the base of his skull and down the overheated skin of his neck. 

Neil’s breathing has gotten close to normal, the adrenaline starting to wear off now that instead of falling endlessly, he has Andrew to crash into. Andrew to catch him and hold him together. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Andrew asks after several more infinite moments, his gaze never wavering from Neil’s.

Neil can’t stop the full-body flinch at the question. Andrew doesn’t say a word, and Neil doesn’t have to either. Andrew just nods, his fingers still stroking the skin of Neil’s neck. He doesn’t let go of Neil’s chin either, keeping his gaze trained into Neil’s eyes as though he can read his very soul through them. 

“How can you stand them?” Neil blurts it out before he can think better of it. He opens his mouth to explain, but then closes it. He doesn’t have to. 

Andrew’s quiet for a moment. He shifts his hold on Neil’s jaw, pressing three fingers under his chin to tilt his face up more, brushing his thumb across Neil’s bottom lip impossibly softly. He studies Neil’s eyes carefully, thoughtfully, and then shrugs one shoulder. 

“They’ve never been anything other than you for me.” He tilts his head slightly, as if considering. “One of the first real parts of you that I got.”

The unexpected answer steals Neil’s breath again, though this time not from panic. Andrew doesn’t look into his eyes and see the eyes of a killer, of someone heartless and cruel and demanding. Andrew doesn’t see dead eyes.

“Yes or no?” Neil whispers breathlessly. 

Andrew’s lips twitch ever so slightly and he lifts his chin. “Yes.” 

Neil crushes his mouth to Andrew’s, the kiss tinged with desperation and fading panic, but also - hope. Hope that one day, Neil can look into his own eyes and see what Andrew does. Hope that his eyes aren’t really dead, because he sure as hell isn’t. 

[kiwiaok]

one more bit from “my love mine all mine” bc I’m actually kinda proud of how I captured drugged andrew’s thought process:

Everything's so damn funny lately. Kevin's desperation to get him to care about exy, the scarecrow of the man that hides under the name Neil, Wymack looking at him like he might be worth something more than the knives hidden under his armbands. And the pills, especially those little bastards. They're so funny they squeeze involuntary giggles through his teeth all the time.

It's truly hilarious that after so many survived years, Andrew is still just a naïve little kid on the inside. That all his truths still crumble when faced with reality. Andrew thought that even if his choices and body were never his, at least his mind was his own. That he could always take shelter in the privacy of his own head, that this was the one thing he would always have control over. And he fought for it, too. It's why he actually cooperated with Bee - he decided that he wouldn't allow anything, not memories and not past experiences to take control over his thoughts. Now, the pills laugh at him from where he sees them out of the corner of his eye.

Andrew laughs right back at them, dizzy and nauseous. It's like he has been spinning for a long time, and he can't stop. His thoughts cycle constantly, wildly; blue pills, blue eyes, blue like cyan, that's like cyanide, one of the symptoms of the poisoning is shortness of breath and tinnitus, tinnitus, there is always ringing in his ears but he doesn't know if it's from screaming or laughing and he doesn't know if it's coming from his own mouth or from other's and he doesn't know when was the last time he could take a full breath and there are maggots crawling under his skin, and he wants to cut himself open and pluck them out one by one, but he's not allowed, and he's not allowed to stop either, to pause, to breathe, to think.

Frankly, it's exhausting. Constant racing thoughts, a constant stream of feelings fabricated entirely from those funny little pills. Every time he's fed one of those, on a schedule, like a fucking dog, he obediently swallows and then imagines little blue, cyan pills dancing around in his brain. Andrew doesn't think that's the drugs' desired effect, but he doesn't say anything. Enough words fall unbidden from his mouth these days.

He stays quiet and never alone and never in control, just him and the dancing pills, spinning, spinning like on a carousel, and oh he was on a carousel once with Cass, Cass like Cassandra, that database management system that supports computer clusters, Andrew knows because he read about it once and now his mind will never let him forget and Andrew thinks he needs a Cassandra for his brain to manage all clusters of his memories and then he remembers that he needed Cass too, not that long ago, Cass the person, not the database system and he wanted her to stay but where Cass was there was Drake and there were hands dancing on his skin, dancing just like those little pills and isn't that so funny? It seems funny. Everything's so damn funny lately.

[she-karev]

Mama Bear (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Three of Three

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Canon Season and Episode: Season 19 episode 9

AN: Hey guys, here’s the final chapter, be warned there is a pretty intense verbal fight ahead if your in the mood for a good scrap. The GIF above is Amber's outfit for the dinner party I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Amber and Andrew go have dinner with Owen, Teddy, Ben and Bailey that quickly turns sour as they fight with Altman and Hunt.

Words: 4965

January 13th, 2023

I walk out of my closet wearing my navy-blue blazer dress over my black lingerie and gold heels clacking the hard wood floors of our bedroom. My long blonde hair is down and wavy with an extra fluff to stand out. My makeup is done especially well with coral lipstick, nude eyeshadow and cat eyeliner. I’m in front of the oval standing mirror next to the closet in our bedroom putting the buttons through the loops so it can close fully. The dress is long sleeved, double breasted with big gold buttons and it reaches my knees giving me a businesswoman with style kind of look.

Andrew is still in the walk-in closet getting ready and I realize I forgot something, “Hey babe? Can you grab me a belt on your way out? It’s the gold one with a lot of circles.”

He comes out two seconds later in his blue thermal shirt with his leather jacket on and dark jeans. He tosses me the belt I asked for and I put it on completing my look sensing my husband’s eyes leering at me.

“Wow you look like a million bucks.”

I groan at how this dress is tighter on me post baby, “I feel like a million bucks stuffed inside a mini-Coach wallet. If there’s dessert we’re leaving because I’m afraid one piece of carb will make this dress pop and then Hunt won’t be mad about the ear after I gave him a peek at the goods.”

“You look gorgeous and that dress is tight in all the right areas, don’t worry.”

I walk toward him and give him a grateful kiss, “Your sweet. I wish we wouldn’t have to go to this thing but I’m desperate for human interaction even if it’s hosted by the parents of the child who bit ours. Twice.” I walk to the bed putting my things in my black crossbody still feeling mad at Hunt for allowing his daughter to bite mine again. I thought the ear pinching would soothe my anger but it didn’t.

Andrew looks at me slightly amused and slightly worried, “Will you try to behave? And leave Hunt with at least one good ear?”

I sigh but comply, “For you yes I will.” Carina walks inside the bedroom in her pajamas carrying Lucy in her arms, “Hey thanks so much for babysitting again.”

“Oh, it’s no problem it’s gonna be a fun night with me and Lucy isn’t that right booboo?” Carina babbles at the baby who stares at her blankly. She turns back to us with a smile, “I’ll call you if there’s any problems and I left the ringer on in case you call.”

I nod, “Okay I left breast milk in the fridge in case she gets hungry, she loves her little green dragon but in case she loses it we have about 10 more in the closet and I changed her about half an hour ago. Also, if she gets difficult just turn on-”

“Moana and sing along to her.” Carina repeats with a grin, “I know everything there is to know about babies cognata. Remember that you have two sister in laws who are OB’s.”

“Exactly I mean she’s basically Mary Poppins with a medical degree.” Andrew says to reassure me and turns me to face him, “She’ll be fine with her Zia Carina for the next two hours, maybe even three if we’re feeling crazy. We have about 18 years to go, let’s have at least one night as a couple instead of parents. Okay babe?”

I sigh and look at Lucy who looks content in Carina’s arms who nods reassuringly. I’m still worried but I know I need one night with my husband before I forget what I felt like pre baby, “Okay let’s hurry while I’m still brave come on let’s go.” Andrew quickly hands me my black coat and grabs the car keys. I stand in front of Carina and lean down to face Lucy with a smile, “Okay sweetie mommy and daddy will be back have fun with your Zia we love you.” I kiss her head and Andrew does the same.

“Love you bambina.” Andrew rushes me out of the house, no doubt thinking I’ll change my mind and turn around. And he was right to as every cell in my body aches with each step I take and not just from being away from my child for the night. I get the feeling that something really bad is about to happen at dinner.

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Andrew and I exited the car parked outside of Owen and Teddy’s house. I carried the roasted peppers in a glass dish that Andrew made for the Hunt’s despite my insistence it wasn’t what they deserved. He already finished making them though so it was either eat it with them or throw it away and I am not one to waste good food. We spot Ben and Bailey walking down the sidewalk a few feet away from us, also carrying a dish.

“Hey.” They greet us back, “You brought something too?”

Bailey nods with a grin, “Yes ma’am apple pie my mother’s recipe what about you?”

“Roasted peppers on olive with lots of garlic.” Andrew goads as we walk with them, “You haven’t known what true Italian dishes taste like until you tried my peppers.”

“Trust me he’s not being arrogant he’s stating facts. The smell alone takes you to the land of pasta. I just wish we weren’t sharing that with Hunt and Altman two hours after their kid bit our kids.” I bitterly add.

“Yeah, that makes two of us.” Ben agrees, “It better be a good spread they have because I am holding as much back as I can.”

“Well at least you get to drink through this nightmare.” I groan, “I’m breastfeeding and I don’t want to risk damaging my baby with copious amounts of wine and vodka laced in her milk. Unfortunately, Altman doesn’t have to worry about that because I can smell the wine in her liver already.”

Ben chuckles, “And the rage in the air when she and Hunt are in the same room.”

“If this night goes bad, can you pull a Backdraft and start a fire so we can escape the dumpster fire that is a dinner with Hunt and Altman?”

“Were our spouses this grouchy when we decided to marry them?” Andrew asks Bailey who chuckles.

“Mine wasn’t but I think we both know the answer about yours.” We stop outside the door where Andrew rings the doorbell and Owen Hunt answers.

“Ben, Bailey, DeLuca’s. Enter at your own risk.” I try to keep a pleasant face as I enter the house with Andrew where Teddy greets us.

“Come on in.” She notices the dishes we brought, “Oooh look at that.”

Bailey hands her the dish, “Apple pie, my mother’s recipe. Maybe you can think of it when you are approving budget requests for the clinic.”

Andrew chuckles, “And I brought roasted peppers to start as appetizers.”

“Thank you, you shouldn’t have.”

I fake chuckle, “No we really shouldn’t have.” I thrust the dish against Owen’s stomach roughly and he takes it with a groan. I noticed that his right ear is bandaged at the top with gauze due to my handiwork from this afternoon. The sight gives me a sick sort of satisfaction that I keep to myself and Owen clears his throat to converse with Ben instead as we hang our coats.

“Hey, I heard there were some fires down in south Seattle. You been on those?”

“Uh, no, no, no. Uh, we have a little girl now, so I sit the crazy stuff out.”

Teddy laughs, “That never stopped Owen.” I grin slightly at his wife also giving him a hard time.

Owen looks peeved but grins, “Ah, please excuse her. She's exhausted after one day of the job that you and I did for years.”

“And how did that work out for you career wise?” I ask venomously with Andrew clicking his tongue no doubt feeling awkward.

Teddy purses her lips but keeps being the host, “Wine?”

“Uh, by wine, can you mean bourbon?” Bailey asks.

“Good idea.” Owen and Teddy walk to the kitchen and we follow.

“Cheese and crackers are on the coffee table.” Altman informs us.

“Oh, fantastic.” Ben says, “I'd love a bite.” I snort at his use of that word causing Bailey to smack us both on the arm telling us to knock it off. I keep a straight face as I enter into the belly of the beast.

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

The tension is still in the air even as we sit comfortably in the living room waiting for the chicken to come out of the oven. We’re sitting on the couch next to Warren and Bailey with Owen and Teddy sitting across from each other in the armchairs. We’re talking about the challenges of parenthood and I try as hard as I can to keep the biting incident to myself even as I talk about what raising a baby has been like for us so far.

“I feel like a cow.” Andrew chuckles at that, “Oh you think it’s funny I’m a baby’s own personal soda fountain? Be glad you got the Y chromosome buddy because your body is still the same and you don’t have hormones to mess your mind up as well.”

“Well, I have bipolar disorder so I know a thing or two about adjusting bodies and messed up minds.”

“He’s got you there DeLuca.” Hunt tells me.

“Yeah, you don’t give an opinion here.” I snap and Hunt frowns at that as I continue, “You two ladies have already done this how long is it gonna take before my boobs come back to normal.”

“Never.” They both answer in unison.

I whimper at that, “I mean don’t get me wrong she’s my daughter, I love her and I’m glad I had her. I just really miss my perfect boxing body.”

“Hey, come on you still have it.” My husband holds my hand in comfort that I appreciate.

“How is Lucy doing anyway?” My mood turns sour at Hunt’s question, “Is she with a babysitter?”

I glare at Hunt who looks uncomfortable at my obvious disdain that Andrew notices and decides to intervene with an answer, “Um no, my sister is living with us while she and her wife are separated. She’s watching Lucy right now. I think she’s trying to fill the void of having an estranged wife with being an aunt. I mean don’t get me wrong I’m glad she’s helping I just didn’t expect to raise my baby with my wife and sister. Which now that I say it out loud is wrong and incestuous.”

“Well hey I grew up in a hell house I wish I had a hot, cool aunt to spend time with me.”

Andrew looks at me with a raised eyebrow, “Hot?”

I roll my eyes, “Come on your sister is a knockout I’m not gonna deny what’s obvious. Will I do anything? Hell no. I just think it’s nice for my daughter to have what I didn’t, someone by her side. I mean God knows there are kids in this life that are gonna attack her and make her feel less worthy than she is because those kids are either dicks or their parents are.” I turn to Hunt so he knows what I’m talking about, “Isn’t that right Hunt?”

Hunt sips his bourbon with a frown as the others sit around awkwardly after I called out the elephant in the room, “Well I’m still a little woozy from the blood loss due to my ear being pinched through so what do I know?”

“Not much as it’s been shown recently.” I grin maliciously with Andrew next to me tapping his fingers against my thigh clearly uncomfortable.

Teddy chuckles awkwardly, “Yep I definitely should have brought more wine.”

Bailey speaks up, “Okay people we are here to have dinner as friends and as coworkers but as of late some things have happened that have caused both of your families to be in the middle of a slight conflict. We need to clear the air and get it all sorted and get it out there before the oven dings because I for one am in the mood for a night without children present.”

“Absolutely, I completely agree.” Andrew nods looking at me as I stare at the coffee table for a moment before nodding, “Okay so how should we start?”

Bailey clears her throat and turns to her husband, “Ben do you want to be mediator?”

Ben coughs out his bourbon he was sipping and looks at Bailey surprised, “Me?”

“Yes you.” Bailey confirms with a ‘duh’ tone, “Diane trained you to talk to people through much more dire situations than this didn’t she?”

“She did and conflict resolution was a part of the Crisis One training.”

“Well there you go so…” Bailey motions to the four of us and Ben looks around awkwardly before starting.

“Um well you four have known each other for years and you respect each other and even consider yourselves friends so let’s remind you of that. Amber?” I look at Ben who speaks in a mediator tone, “You always say that your grateful to Hunt and Altman for saving DeLuca’s life that day because you would not have married him and had a beautiful baby girl with him if they did any less.”

I remember that day clearly as it was one of the worst days of my life. We were broken up at the time but it didn’t change how I felt about him it just changed how I viewed him. I felt terror and anxiety when I got that call and waited for five agonizing hours while he was in the O.R. when they came to me and told me he made it I felt like singing hallelujah! I am extremely grateful to them as Bailey reminded me and my resentment lessens just a tiny bit.

“…Yeah, I might have said that a time or two.” I admit.

“And we all know your not a flatterer and don’t kiss up to attendings like normal residents.” Andrew smirks at that as Ben continues, “So can we assume that came from the heart?”

I press my lips together as I admit once more, “It did.” Hunt looks at me grateful for that.

“And Hunt.” Ben turns to Owen, “You’ve expressed on more than one occasion that DeLuca when she was She-Karev was one the most promising and intelligent residents you’ve seen in her class?”

“Well there wasn’t a doubt about it.” I look at him touched, “And I’m not just saying that because Glasses was also in her class.” We chuckle at that memory.

“Okay good there we go.” Ben grins and pours more bourbon telling us he’s done to my surprise.

“That’s it?” Bailey asks and Ben looks up at us.

“We kind of thought you were just getting started.” I explain with a chuckle.

Ben shrugs, “Well Miranda wanted this spat resolved before the oven dings so I decided to rush it and besides it seems like you both got your digs in so your even.”

Teddy hmm’s, “Okay so I guess you skipped the conflict resolution part of your training. And besides Allison is three she didn’t know what she was doing biting happens. I was gonna have my husband talk to her and make sure this doesn’t happen again but as of late he’s skimmed on his adult responsibilities.”

I scoff, “The way you bite your husbands head off I can see where she would get the habit from.”

Teddy sighs, “Amber, I apologize for what Allison did and I promise you I will try to keep this from happening again.”

Andrew steps in surprising me, “Mmm that’s what you said last time and I have a feeling you were too busy hating your husband to do something about your problem child.”

Teddy stops sipping her wine to look at him offended, “What did you just call my daughter?”

“A problem child.” Andrew repeats this time sternly, “A child who is difficult to control and discipline and your kid fits that description after she bit both of our daughters. Twice.” Teddy scoffs at the insult, “Am I saying things that aren’t true or did someone else sink her little teeth into our five-month-old baby? Have our frustrations not been clear?”

“Well, your wife made her frustrations clear when she almost tore my husband’s ear off.”

“Are you jealous I did it before you could?” I coldly ask Altman who widens her eyes and I turn to Hunt to vent as well, “And you know what Hunt? You didn’t give me much choice when you weren’t willing to have an adult conversation but I guess you’d have to be an adult to do that instead of acting like a child.”

“Oh, I’m a child?” Hunt asks frustrated, “You called my daughter a devil spawn and brat does that sound like being an adult DeLuca?”

“You what?!” Teddy exclaims in shock and I turn to her ready to tear her down.

“Because she was being a brat and devil spawn!” Teddy’s mouth gapes at my brutal honesty as I continue, “How do you expect me to react when your child attacked mine?!”

“Okay people let’s calm down please.” Bailey tries to mediate but it falls on deaf ears as we’re too busy fighting.

“We apologized DeLuca you don’t want it to hear it and accept it that is on you.” Hunt coldly tells me.

“Your gonna lecture her on accountability? Really?”  Andrew asks mockingly, “You bitch every hour and every day to your wife about how you lost your job after you committed murder! You think you have the high ground when it comes to taking responsibility really?”

“That wasn’t murder!” Hunt explains in anger and I roll my eyes at him ranting again, “I did what I did to give soldiers who were denied proper medical care after serving their country and getting sick as a result the chance at a dignified death instead of slowly dying in pain in a hospital bed and leaving their families with more debt! Do you want me to be sorry for that?”

I hit a breaking point as I slap the coffee table in anger, “OH MY GOD! I…” I take a deep inhale to control myself, “You have not said one thing that none of us in this room or the hospital don’t already know Hunt so listen with your good ear when I tell you to shut up!”

Teddy speaks up, “Amber, watch the tone you use with my husband because as mad as I am at him-”

“You shut up too!” Teddy quiets and looks shocked at me turning on her now, “You’ve been bitching at him nonstop since the day you guys came back and believe me it hasn’t been easy.”

“Well, you know what I am sorry that I am angry DeLuca!” Teddy yells, “Our lawyers bankrupted us because of my husband so I am sorry if that can make a woman lash out at her idiot of a husband!”

“Oh, just say it again Teddy!” Owen yells after that insult.

I scoff at this display with DeLuca stepping in angry as well, “No Altman what you and Hunt should be sorry for is for turning into a couple of toxic, self-absorbed, rage consumed assholes that none of us can even stand to be around anymore!”

I clap in solidarity, “Preach it honey!”

Ben clears his throat as he and his wife listen clearly uncomfortable, “Okay you guys come on let’s just-”

“I mean at this point with you two fighting nonstop Allison is gonna spend a decade on a therapists couch wondering why she can’t form a healthy relationship and that will be because of you two.” Andrew scoffs and continues, “I mean is it any wonder with parents like you two why your kid is so screwed up?”

Altman sips her wine before narrowing her eyes at us, “Oh and you two want to talk about screwed up kids? I mean how do you think Lucy will feel when she finds out what genes she’s inheriting from both of your sides? Or how her daddy went insane in front of the whole surgical floor?”

“Excuse me!” Andrew bellows out next to me and I react quickly. I stood up and grabbed the glass of wine right out of her hand to throw it in her face in pure rage causing her to gasp. I’m too busy tearing Altman down to see the others’ reactions but I can guess their shocked.

“Amber!” Owen admonishes me but I ignore it.

I put the glass down the coffee table with a hard clink and point a finger at her as she processes being doused in white wine, “You will never, NEVER! Talk about my family like that or so help me Altman I will destroy you! My husband has bipolar disorder and he works hard to treat it. Yeah, he made mistakes but he tried to save a child from a human trafficker while you let the whole hospital hear you whoring yourself to a neurosurgeon while you were engaged.” Altman looks at me shocked but stays quiet, “And yeah, I’m screwed up, I’m a product of my upbringing. I’m a bitch, I acknowledge that. I had to be a bitch to survive my life growing up. A crazy mom, crazy brother, foster care, private high school I have had to be a bitch to survive all of that but now I am not a bitch for the sake of surviving anymore, now I am a bitch for the sake of my family. I know that and I am proud of that and do not apologize for how I reacted at your husband when your little brat bit my baby and when you just shamed my husband for his mental illness. And you know Altman you can judge all you want but I would rather be a protective bitch than-”

Owen tries to stop me again, “Thin ice here Amber very thin!”

I ignore him again so I can continue, “I would rather be a protective bitch than a sad, angry, pathetic drunk stuck in a dead marriage who was second choice for chief and third choice for a wife!” Altman is stunned in silence at my rant with tears glistening in her eyes that don’t incite pity in me. I turn to Andrew who is still sitting there with a blank face clearly agreeing with my rant as he didn’t step in at all. I notice Hunt barely spoke up confirming my points of her deteriorating marriage as he didn’t try to stop me while I was attacking his wife, “We’re leaving.” Andrew nods and stands up to follow me as we get our dish and coats so we can leave the house with our heads held high after the dumpster fire blew up.

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

We sat in the car in silence with the engine off trying to reel from the events of five minutes ago.  I exhale as my nerves die down from giving Hunt and Altman a piece of my mind. I can sense Andrew also trying to mentally recover from the dinner that never was. He’s in the driver’s seat rubbing his temples before speaking first.

“Well, that was fun.”

I chuckle lightly, “Yeah I think I really won the new chief over with that wine to her face.”

“It was a very iconic drink to the face moment.” Andrew grins and holds my hand, “How bad do you think it’s gonna be tomorrow?”

I groan at that reminder that we have to work with them tomorrow, “How about we take Lucy, get on a plane and live out the rest of our days in Bora Bora? We can run a clinic there and never have to worry about crazy white people ever again.”

Andrew laughs at that suggestion, “That would be nice but I’m pretty sure your brother and my sister would kill us for leaving them to deal with the Hunt’s who will take their frustrations on us out on them.” He leans over to kiss me in comfort, “We’ll be okay babe. I mean we’ve handled a lot worse than an angry chief. We can survive anything as long as we’re together. That’s the advantage we have over Hunt and Altman and we can handle anything they dish out at us.”

I look at him in awe over his ability to ease my worries even after I insulted the chief in her own home. I cradle his face brushing my thumb across his stubbly cheek, “I love you.”

He grabs my hand from his cheek and turns his face to kiss my palm, “I love you.” He turns to the road and starts the engine, “Are you ready for a night of Moana with Lucy while she drinks breastmilk again?”

I grin at that before an idea comes to me, “Actually can we make a stop.”

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

The door opens revealing Alex inside the house in his casual wear surprised to see us on the other side of the door holding the peppers we were originally going to eat at the Hunts. I grin at him and see Jo approaching the door holding Luna also looking at us surprised.

“Hey guys.”

“Hi.” Alex looks at the dish I’m holding and back at me, “Is there a reason you guys came to my house at 11 and brought a plate of peppers?”

Andrew tsks, “It’s a long story but basically, we need a night to hang out with adult friends and no children present. The last ones we were with were…less than welcoming.” Alex raises an eyebrow, “We’ll explain more, can we come in and eat this dish with you guys? We kind of have to fill the time somehow and your our best option.”

Jo steps forward, “Who are we to turn down free food? Come in, let’s talk in the kitchen.” I thank Jo as we entered their house feeling safer here than we did at the Hunt’s.

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

“And then I called her a sad, pathetic drunk who was chosen second for chief and third for wife. And then we left.” I finish telling the story as we sit around the dining room table eating the peppers with French bread and red wine that I’m not drinking opting for mineral water. We got to eating and talking once Jo put Luna down to sleep in her room. Jo and Alex look shocked at my last insult as they chew the food.

“Wow I wish I could’ve seen that.” Jo says, “So her exact words were Lucy might get the crazy gene since her dad went insane? She said that?”

“Yep.” Andrew confirms bitter as he sips his wine, “I was there and so were Ben and Bailey, you can ask them and they’ll say the same thing.”

Alex shakes his head at that clearly as mad as I was, “Now I kind of wish I took the chief job, then you wouldn’t be in danger of getting abused or fired.”

I shake my head at that, “Well to be fair how would you have known your sister was gonna go all ballistic on the chief of cardio after she insulted my family?”

“I think you let her off easy after what she said.” Jo says and I realize as a person who suffers bouts of depression she also feels triggered by Teddy’s comment like Andrew. I look at them in sympathy and decide to point out what me and Alex already know.

“You know neither of you are insane right?” I tell my husband and sister-in-law who look surprised by my change of subject, “You had mental health problems but you faced them and you’re better. It doesn’t make you weak if anything it makes you stronger.”

Alex nods holding Jo’s hand and looking at her with love and support, “Damn straight. Altman wouldn’t know how to face her problems if it bit her in the ass. Don’t listen to what she said and don’t believe it.”

Jo scoffs offended, “Well it was a new low of hers and that is saying something. It makes me wish I was there when you threw that drink in her face. I wish you recorded it.”

“It was very iconic it was like a fight at my family reunion.” Andrew says with a grin and I lightly push him, “Are you sure you’re not Italian?”

“Only by marriage.” I shove a whole slice of bread with a pepper in my mouth moaning in satisfaction at the taste and texture, “They really did not deserve these peppers.”

“Nope, not one bit.” Alex agrees with his mouth full, “It kind of makes me wish I married into an Italian family.”

Jo nods taking a bite of the bread, “Me too. So, what’s the plan after tonight? Are you gonna ask Avery for a face transformation or are you gonna take a really extended vacation?”

I sigh and remember what my husband said to me, “I don’t know but we will figure it out together. Besides what is she gonna do fire us? I’ll just go over her head and gang up on her with my attending brother, sister and husband.” They look at me amused, “It’s the one time I would use nepotism in my favor.” I hold up my water for them to clink their wine glasses against it as we enjoy this impromptu dinner party of ours.

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 27

So... I'm pretty unsure about this piece... I didn't want it to be too sad but then again the subject is quite serious... I have to say I was having a hard time trying to imagine the feelings and emotions of an eight-year-old in that very situation... I hope you like it nonetheless, and please do let me know what you think in the comments...

21st November 1995, part 1

Middlewick House

The night had been hell. It hadn't been before 5am that Camilla had finally fallen into an unsteady sleep, tortured by all different sorts of nightmares until Andrew woke her again at about 7am. Andrew… She couldn't express her immense gratitude that, after everything that had happened and gone wrong between them, it hadn’t even taken him half an hour to get into his car and straight to them, his ex-wife and her illegitimate child, to speak the truth in all its cruelty, apparently, at least as he told her, more or less by his new partner Rosemary’s command. “She thought you might need someone to look after you…”, he’d grumbled while manoeuvring that poor little picture of misery that she had turned into, onto her bed, which was obviously amongst the only few pieces of furniture that hadn’t been dismantled yet. He had then gotten two glasses and a whole bottle of Whiskey for both of them, sat down next to her, put his arm around her and let her cry, until there hadn’t been a single tear left anymore. “Alright Milla.”, he had finally started, clearing his throat. “I’ll stay here with you until everything is fixed. But Rose will come over tomorrow as well. I want her by my side.” “Of course.”, Camilla sobbed, gulping a few sips of the Whiskey. She liked Rose and she didn’t mind her coming over at all, but somehow it bothered her to hear that he actually wanted a woman “by his side”; in all of the 20 years of their meanwhile divorced marriage, he’d never wanted her “by his side” the way he demanded Rose now. “I’ll meet our lawyer tomorrow.”, he then went on. “We need a plan as soon as possible. Have you heard anything from Charles yet?” Camilla shook her head. “I unplugged the telephone immediately, after…”, she explained and looked so desperately that it almost broke his heart. “Sure. Don’t worry, I’ll contact him.”, he promised. “It’s important that we’re all working together now. Thea will stay home tomorrow and you’ll tell her the truth. She needs to hear it from you. You can go on a walk or ride together and take all the time you need. But when you return I will be here and reassure her that I’m still and will always be her daddy. That’ll be important for her to know.” Camilla had almost cuddled up to him as if they were still married; she couldn’t believe how wonderful and supportive he was of both her and her daughter, but maybe it was due to the Whiskey. “Why are you doing all of this, Andrew?”, she asked, her eyes filled with tears again. Andrew looked at her in amusement, casually shrugging his shoulders. “Because you will always be a part of my life. A part of my heart will always belong to you and everything we had. We might not have worked out as husband and wife, but we’ve always been good parents to all our three children. Milla - I love Thea like my own flesh and blood. I brought her to life-” “You did…” “-and I will not allow anyone to hurt her or put her at risk in one way or another, no matter if it’s the press or the bloody Princess of Wales.” Camilla had started crying again while she’d been listening to him, but these were actually tears of joy, pride and relief that, despite everything, Andrew was still being such an amazing daddy for her little darling daughter. God only knew how she was supposed to explain to her that he wasn’t her biological father tomorrow… it’d surely break her heart. "I know you'll find the right words.", Andrew said. "You always have. You're an exceptional mother, Camilla."

"What do you mean, I'm not going to school today?", Thea asked and looked at her mother in irritation. She was maximum confused. Why on earth shouldn't she go to school today? It was an ordinary Tuesday. Of course she was going to school, unless something really serious had happened… "Well, darling, the two of us need to… talk about a few things.", Camilla murmured, nervously stirring in her breakfast tea. Thea frowned her forehead. "Mummy, I've got quite an important maths lesson today… The exam date is next week! I can hardly miss it!" "I know, darling, and I wouldn't do that if it wasn't for a really important cause… Please, just trust me, darling." Her mother's almost begging voice and the desperate expression on her face made Thea's little heart ache. She loved Mummy, she knew that she only ever wanted what was best for her and that this had to be a really serious thing if it bothered her that much. "Okay, Mummy… What are we going to do?", she asked. "I mean, where are we going?" "Where would you like to go?", Camilla countered, hoping for her daughter to name a place of two where she'd feel comfortable, happy and relaxed enough to record that sort of news… "What about a picnic in my tree house?", she suggested, referring to the really impressive and beautiful tree house which had been lovingly built up by Andrew and Tom a couple of years ago. "We won't have it for much longer anyway." Of course they couldn't move the tree to their new home so Thea was totally right when suggesting that they'd take every chance to spend a bit of time in it as long as they could… "Alright then. Let's wrap up warmly and meet up there in half an hour!", Camilla agreed and Thea nodded approvingly.

"Okay, Mummy, cutting to the chase: what's the matter?", Thea asked easily, looking at her mother in happy and curious expectations. They'd sat down on a blanket on the floor in her tree house, cuddled up tightly and covered in another, particularly soft blanket, each of them holding a good, hot cup of tea in their hands. Camilla nervously cleared her throat. "Well, darling… remember when Tigger had her puppies last summer?", she began a little uncertain, referring to Charles' beloved Jack Russell Terrier who had, indeed, had puppies last year, and Thea nodded enthusiastically. It had been a joy when Tigger had her puppies last year, they'd gone over to Highgrove every day and watched the little ones grow until they were old enough to be gifted to some of Sir's friends, they had kept one, too, Freddy was his name, and he was an absolute sweetheart. "And… um, darling, have you ever wondered how… the babies were… let's say put into Tigger's tummy?", she asked further and had to really pull herself together. Having to have this talk right here, right now, just felt so unbelievably ridiculous. Thea casually grabbed a macaron from the hamper Camilla had prepared, eating it with relish. "She must have been mated by a male dog?!", she replied, looking at her mother in confusion. "Y-yes, exactly…", Camilla responded, equally shocked and surprised that her daughter was already that familiar with this sort of vocabulary. "And, um, do you know what that… means?", she asked further and Thea rolled her eyes. "A tiny cell from a male body joins with a tiny cell from a female’s body.", she explained casually, almost precociously and Camilla almost choked herself with a macaron. "That's… right, darling, that's just… how things work.", she confirmed and helped herself to a glass of champagne. It was only just 10am but specific situations called for special measures. "And, do you know that it works just like that for humans, too, darling?", she tried to build the bridge to the actual point of their conversation, and Thea frowned her forehead. "But humans have sex to make babies.", she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, casually grabbing another macaron, while Camilla almost spilled her champagne in shock. "W-what do you know about… sex?", she asked anxiously. She was her innocent little baby, she wasn't allowed to know about these things yet…

"Laura says it's a very private, grown-up cuddle.", Thea bubbled. "Oh does she?", Camilla wanted to know and couldn't help feeling very proud of her oldest daughter for having described it so beautifully. A very private grown-up cuddle… brilliant! She herself would never have come up with that! She absolutely had to tell and thank Laura for having explained it all to her little sister so clearly and carefully, or maybe rather not - it'd probably make her feel embarrassed… anyway. "She says that's what grown-ups do when they're very much in love. And that sometimes they get a baby… afterwards.", Thea added, and Camilla pulled her into her arms. "Yes, darling. That's true. And, um, you know… Mummy and Sir are very much in love, as well…" "So you have made that sex thing, too?" Once more, Camilla almost choked herself. "Yes, we, um… might have.", she replied, unusually shy, blushing in shame. "And now you're getting a baby?", Thea asked and, for a moment, Camilla didn't know whether she'd rather scream or laugh. Goodness. What a ridiculous thought! But of course reasonable from her daughter's point of view. "No, darling, no, no, no.", she chuckled, pressing her daughter against her chest. "At least not… now. But, you know, darling, a couple of years ago… I did have a baby after I'd had a… very private grown-up cuddle with Sir… In fact, it was almost exactly nine years ago. And nine months later… a little girl came into this world, and made it so much brighter and filled it with nothing but joy and love… and the little girl was named Theodora." Camilla hadn't been able to hold back her tears anymore as she had finally told her daughter the truth, pressing her against herself, desperately hoping she wasn't going to hate her for the rest of her life. Thea twisted around in her mother's arms, looking at her in a mixture of disbelief and excitement. "So - you're saying that Sir is actually my father, aren't you, Mummy?", her little sweetheart asked so cutely and attentively that it almost overwhelmed her. Camilla nodded, tears running down her face. "Yes, darling. He is.", she confirmed, sobbing heartbreakingly. "But why are you crying then, Mummy?", Thea wanted to know and lovingly wiped away her mother's tears. "It's okay. You and Sir are in love and I'm very fond of Sir, too. I think he loved me, too. Is he also Tom and Laura's father? But - wait, what's with Daddy?" Her clever little girl had so many, reasonable questions and, of course, Camilla was going to try and answer them all as best as she could. "No, darling, Sir's not Tom and Laura's father, that'd be Daddy, and Daddy will always be your Daddy as well. He loves you so much and this will not change anything between you two.", Camilla assured her. "He'll tell you himself as soon as we're back at the house, he's actually here, you know…" Thea's eyes widened in excitement. "Daddy's here?", she asked enthusiastically and Camilla nodded verifying. "He is, darling. And he can't wait to see you - wanna go and say hello to him?" "Yes, please!", Thea exclaimed cheerfully, and off she went…

[imreallyloveleee]

for @auroraworldtourftbughead who asked about my "road trip to ohio" fic: ok so this is a s5 au that i started writing back in Feb/Mar. it picks up a few weeks after they find Polly's body, ie at the point in the show where it became extremely clear that they were just dropping the arc they'd been building for Betty & Jughead and veering off in another nonsensical direction. i really want to finish this one and correct the sins of late s5, lol. (and i just miss jughead's family!) here is a snippet from the beginning of the story:

It’s just past eight in the evening. She’s dragging the trash bins from the garage out to the sidewalk for tomorrow morning’s pickup when she sees him standing in the driveway next door, struggling to wrestle an oversized duffle bag into the storage compartment of his motorcycle.

“Jug. Hey.” She’s already halfway across the yard between their houses by the time he notices her. His eyes soften from surprise to mild concern as she approaches.

“Hey. How are you holding up?”

Betty mulls for a moment over her response. It’s a fair question to ask someone three weeks after they found their sister’s body rotting in the trunk of a rusting, broken junkyard sedan. She doesn't especially want to answer; she's just tired of coming up with ways to change the subject.

Thankfully the scene she's stumbled upon makes it easy. She gestures to the bag. "Hanging in there. What’s this?”

Jughead sighs, giving the duffel bag another half-hearted shove, to no avail. “I’m heading to Ohio for JB’s graduation.”

Recognition flickers dimly in her memory. He’d mentioned this to her weeks ago, when they were deep in investigation mode, one of probably a thousand things he’d said that had filtered in and out of her brain like water through a sieve. She’d said something like oh, my god, she’s graduating already? we’re so old! in response, and then promptly returned to obsessing over their latest clue in the hunt for the highway killer.

“But I guess the gift I got her is too big for this stupid thing –” 

“You’re driving all the way to Ohio on a motorcycle?” she interrupts. “In the middle of the night? Isn’t that, like, a seven hour drive?”

He shifts his gaze away from her, towards the Andrews house, which she interprets as yes, I know this is a dumb fucking idea and no, I don’t want to talk about it. 

After the last few months she's had, she can relate.

“It’s tomorrow,” he says. “I was supposed to leave yesterday, but – I kind of got distracted, with everything that’s been going on.” 

Betty tries not to react to that. He must mean “everything” that’s been going on with Tabitha – her parents’ arrival in town, their burgeoning relationship. Kevin had seen them out at a restaurant together with the Tates, holding hands at the dinner table. Betty wishes they’d just make it public already, post a couple's photo on Instagram or something. It’s getting uncomfortable, pretending she doesn’t know.

He's muttering to himself, hoisting the duffel bag out of the storage compartment and onto his shoulder. "Maybe if I repack this into a backpack instead…"

“You can take my car, if you want,” she offers, and then, without allowing herself to actually consider what she’s proposing, adds, “Or…I could come with you.”

Jughead freezes, his eyes darting from her face to her car where it sits in the opposite driveway, and then back again. “Oh, no – I couldn’t ask –” 

“We could tag-team the driving. And I’d love to see JB and your dad, and…everyone.” She doesn’t actually know if Gladys is still in the picture or not. “To be honest, I – I really need to get out of this house for a few days.”

She knows how she sounds: desperate. But she also knows that if anyone in her life can come anywhere close to understanding what this is like – what it means to be the child of a parent who is a walking, weeping open wound, a gaping hole of need that cannot possibly be filled – it’s Jughead. 

(And she feels guilty for thinking of her grieving mother in those terms, she really does, but the truth is she’s suffocating. Put on your own oxygen mask first, Dr. Glass told her all those years ago. It was just about the only useful thing he'd imparted to her in a cumulative sixteen hours of therapy, other than a prescription for Adderall.) 

“At least take the car,” she insists. “You can’t even fit your stuff in here.”

Jughead’s lips press together. His eyes flit back towards the house again – only the garage light is on, which is where he’s been staying. “You’re sure you want to sit in a car with me for seven hours? I’ve got terrible taste in music.”

Her face breaks out into a tremulous smile. It feels weird, but good – the first uncontrolled display of emotion she’s had in weeks that wasn’t borne of despair. 

“I’m sure.” 

[houseofbrat]

Hello HOB, What’s your take on the latest mediation talks with the AOC. It seems to be PR endorsed by Charles. Then there’s the rumour of him talking to Dimbleby again about Harry. And all released on the day Catherine, Princess of Wales releases her early years project. Not coincidental at all (sarcasm). Everything about this coronation seems to point to going to hell in a hand basket. I hate to say it. Charles is looking weak. Why is Charles negotiating with terrorists, and why won’t he reign in both Harold and Andrew? Is he afraid of Harold revealing what he shouldn’t?

It's pretty clear that a bunch of people commenting & complaining on tumblr don't know much about Charles.

When did Charles & Welby become BFFs? Can the people complaining about Charles provide any evidence that Charles takes advice from Welby? No, they can't. Why would Charles sit down with Welby & Harry? Like, why? 

This is the dumbest story ever.

One of the Daily Mail stories literally says the Archbishop of Cambridge, "clearly had a lot of sympathy for them [over Megxit]."

Oh, so these articles conveniently recycle previous quotes about the Sussexes (Meghan) by Welby and also are conveniently timed to distract from Kate's big announcement (Meghan).

Clearly, it's all coming from the communications department at Archewell.

But, hey, if you want to spend your weekend pearl clutching over nothing, by all means, go right ahead.

Harry will be at the coronation because he is the son of the king. That’s just the way it is. Meghan won’t be there; she’s not going to be allowed to be in the presence of the monarch again. Ever. Obviously she’s angry about it and trying to work any angle possible to get her ass in there. 

I smell lots of desperation by Meghan with these articles. 

[creativepawsworld]

Everything But You - Part 6

Pairing = Cillian Murphy x OC

Summary = Things take a wrong turn when Andrew shows up at the next The Sons of Mr Green Genes Concert. 

Warnings = Language, Grammar, 90s Cillian, Insults? 

Word Count = 1852

It had been two weeks since Cillian and I had sex at the dance studio and things were definitely different this time. He was calling more, wanting to hang out with just the two of us. I honestly felt myself falling for him.

Brushing off the lint from my black skirt, I checked my appearance three more times in the mirror before getting a taxi and arriving at the Black Duck bar, where Cillian's band was performing tonight.

My eyes instantly fell on Billy who was standing outside having a smoke, jumping from foot to foot as the cold December air nipped at his bare arms.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, feeling the cold against my skin. I forewent a coat to maintain my sexy, rocker chick look. I felt like a coat ruined the illusion, style overcame substance tonight.

"Marion bailed and I wasn't going out alone I am not that desperate." He scoffed with a slight roll of his eyes, wrinkles creasing at the sides of his lips as he inhaled deeply on the white cigarette.

"Besides I heard young blue eyes is playing tonight." He wriggled his eyebrows at me.

"He is. That is true." I blushed, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"What's going on with you two hm?" He questioned, a cheeky grin spreading across his face once he noticed my reddened cheeks.

"I really like him Bil…"

"Tell me something I don't know." Billy rolled his eyes, putting the ends of his cigarette out against the pebble-dashed wall before tossing the remains down a drain. "Come on let's get inside before we turn into ice cubes."

Walking arm in arm, we pushed our way through the crowd, Aoife was sitting at a table with one of Andrew's friends, Calvin. I instantly felt bile rise in my throat at the thought of him being in the same bar as both myself and Cillian but mostly because I would have to see him again.

"Don't look so scared, he isn't here. I don't believe so anyway." Billy spoke in my ear. Without realising it, I had pulled him to a stop at the sight of the taller man at the table but hearing his words I felt relief wash over me.

"Effs, been getting rather close to this doctor hunk."

"I can see that." I nodded, walking next to him, and approaching the table with a smile, which Calvin returned.

"Cillian was here. He was looking for you. Wanted to talk about something but wouldn't say what." Aoife acknowledged my presence with a smile. "I think someone is smitten." She winked, wrapping her pink lips around the tiny red straw in her drink.

Glancing over at Calvin, he was watching the conversation with an indifferent look on his face before allowing a smile to take over.

"Don't worry I won't say anything to Drew." He chuckled with a shake of his head. "He didn't deserve you."

"Oh okay, thanks." I nodded bringing the drink Aoife had slid over to me into my hands and up to my mouth, sipping through the straw my eyes wandered throughout the crowd for a certain blue-eyed musician but he was nowhere to be found.

Being late to the party, I was in charge of getting the next round of drinks, I didn't mind as it allowed me to scan the crowd a bit better.  My heart sank when I noticed a familiar blond sitting at the bar nursing a pint of Harp in his hands.  

Rolling my eyes, I turned my back on him completely hoping the bartender would serve me in record time so I could escape back to my table without dealing with him.   But it appeared luck wasn't on my side.

"Brianna, fancy seeing you here." Andrew's voice entered my ear. I felt his hand slide across my lower back from behind before he stood in front of me, pint half drunk.

"What do you want Andrew? You don't even like bars like this."

"No but I wanted to see you and I knew you would be following that loser from the band around like a lost puppy." He laughed darkly, the smell of alcohol ripe on his breath, looking into his eyes I noticed his pupils were slightly dilated, he had a lot more than that pint to drink.

"The only loser I see around here is you" I spat back, turning to glare at the bartender who had once again skipped over me to serve another.

"Don't be like that Brie, come on you and I had a good few years let's not throw it away over some wannabe musician." Andrew's words were slightly slurred.

His hand came up to place some hair behind my ear, and the back of his fingers stroked against my cheek, working their way down towards my jaw before I pulled away.

"We are done Andrew get that through your head."

  *****

Returning to the table, I placed the drinks down just as The Sons of Mr Green Genes got on stage to perform.

Cillian took centre stage. He looked gorgeous tonight in his tight-fitted black t-shirt that clung to his smaller frame. Throwing the strap of his guitar around his neck, he adjusted the microphone to his lips, it was then I noticed the annoyed scowl on his face.

"Someone upset Mr Blue Eyes this evening." Billy mused, eyebrows raised so high they were practically touching his hairline.

Glancing over at him, I squinted my eyes and shook my head in confusion, silently asking him what he was talking about as the band started to play the song -Time Travel.

"He saw you talking to Andrew before he went on stage." Aoife sighed, a sympathetic smile on her face as she placed her now empty glass onto the bar tray, taking her new drink in its place. "I think he believes you invited him."

"I didn't!" I defended myself immediately.  "Why is he even here? You said you wouldn't say anything about me being here." I pointed at Calvin who had held his hands up in defence.

"I haven't said a thing. He has been following you for weeks, showing up at this band's gigs across the country just to see you."

"What?" Aoife screeched, jumping out of her seat to stand next to me, a concerned look on her face as she stared down at her date for the evening. "Why did you say anything?"

"He's harmless." Calvin brushed it off.

"They are always harmless until they aint." Billy scowled throwing one of his dirtiest looks at the buffer gentleman sitting across from him.

"That's disturbing. What a creep." Aoife scoffed, throwing a look of disgust over her shoulder but Andrew was gone. Where? I wasn't sure but he was out of my sight.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I tried to ignore what had happened focusing all my attention on Cillian who was once again so lost in his music, he looked like he was in a complete trance. I felt my heart beating in my chest, as I thought about our last few encounters and we were certainly overdue for another.

Losing myself to the music, I swayed in time, Billy joining next to me for a few before returning to his seat. Cillian avoided eye contact with me the entire set, his brother Paidi waved to me a few times before the beginning of each song, and even nudged Cillian, nodding in my direction but still he refused.

Feeling deflated, I returned to the table, taking a large mouthful of my drink when Emer appeared at our table, dressed in a red dress two sizes too small. Her chest was straining against the bust, one wrong move and she would be flashing.

"Jesus." Billy choked on his drink. The liquid coming out of his mouth hit Calvin like a spray.

"You alright?"  I asked, patting him on the back, his eyes turned red from the lack of oxygen, and the drink was running down his nose as he gasp loudly. Handing him a white napkin he patted himself down.

"She nearly fucking killed me." He wheezed pointing at Emer, who stood innocently at the end of the table. A doe-eyed look in her eyes as she watched Cillian on stage, completely obvious to what was happening around her.

"Emer? What are you doing here?" I asked, ignoring Billy's over-the-top dramatics, another male in my life that would excel in the art of acting.

"Oh Cillian invited me, between us I think he is into me but he is trying to play it cool." She giggled and for the first time tonight, Cillian looked in our direction sending a wink.

Biting back a growl, I felt a pang of jealousy in my heart as Emer jumped up and down on her feet, clapping her hands together frantically as the band finished their set.

"You okay?" Billy asked, sliding next to me, and wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.

"I'm done. I'm so fucking done." I growled, throwing myself back into my seat, and crossing my arms over my chest.

I didn't want to put a sour note on the night, Emer had disappeared into the crowd no doubt going to find Cillian after his set and I was determined to enjoy myself.

I was not going to let Cillian fucking Murphy get to me anymore.

  *****

  Yelling loudly, Billy and I both giggled as we jiggled on our feet, fighting off the taste of yet another shot of tequila. Aoife and Calvin had disappeared into the night after the band's set finished, no question what it was they disappeared to get up to.

"FUCK THE MEN." Billy cackled loudly, slamming the now empty glass on the table. Throwing his hands in the air and dancing to the music in his head.

"Enjoying your night?" I heard that Irish brogue that if I had been sober, would have had me weak at the knees. Turning around to face him, he stood behind me with his hands inside his jeans pockets, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I am. Where's Emer? Get bored of you already?" I asked with a hint of venom. I heard Billy behind me creating loud cat noises. I could just see him in my head, scratching the air with his claws.

"Toilet," Cillian answered flatly.

"Great," I replied with a small shake of my head as an awkward silence fell over us. "What do you want?" I asked breaking it.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"Don't have one."

"I saw you with Andrew earlier Brianna, seemed pretty cosy."

"What does it matter to you?" I snapped, stepping into his space but he only shrugged his shoulders in response.

"The man is stalking her blue eyes," Billy answered his question for me. "She came here for you but you chose the blonde who wears her little sister's barbie doll dress out in public so FUCK YOU."

"Yeah FUCK YOU" I laughed joining Billy as we held up our middle fingers. "This is your loss, Murphy."

*****

Anyone interested in the bands song I found it on YouTube - Time Travel it’s rather a bop if I do say so myself. 

Taglist

@stars-of-scorpio @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyscillian​ @cillmequick​ @forgottenpeakywriter​ @lyarr24