#happy belated birthday haley!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sequinsmile-x · 8 months ago

Text

Early Hours

She was sure she hadn't slept properly in years, but she wouldn't change her life for anything.

Emily and Aaron are woken up in the middle of the night by their children.

-x-

Hi friends,

I know four days isn't a long time in the grand scheme of things for someone not to post but it is a long time for me so am sorry about that. Not to be 'one of those' fic writers, but I have the mumps and up until today it was fully melting my brain and face, and now it's just slightly melting my face. So I can write again!

This is a belated birthday fic for the lovely @whitecrossgirl. So sorry this is a few days late, but I hope you like it. Thanks for always being such a hype woman and always being happy for me to write things that make you yell. Here's to another year of unhinged fics and yelling <3

Let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Read over on AO3, or below the cut

Emily wakes up slowly, a luxury she hadn’t been afforded very often lately.

She rolls from her side onto her back and sighs contentedly, arching her back as she stretches. It’s only when she winces at the ache in her breasts, the fullness of them, that her eyes fly open as she sits up, switching on the lamp on the nightstand as she desperately looks for the reason she’d barely slept recently - her two-week-old son.

“Look, Elliot, Mommy is awake,” Aaron says quietly, and Emily turns to look at him, the momentary panic she’d felt over not having been woken up by her son’s hungry cries gone as soon as she lays eyes on them. Aaron is sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard, with Elliot lying against his chest, his palm wider than the baby’s back as he kept him securely against him. Elliot was awake, his eyes wide as he looked around, content in his father’s embrace.

“Hi sweet boy,” she says, leaning in to kiss Elliot’s head, taking a moment to breathe him in, before she kisses her husband, her lips catching the corner of his before he turns his head to kiss her properly. She smiles as she pulls back and pushes some of his hair from his forehead, her smile getting wider as he flops back down. He looked impossibly handsome like this, deliciously rumbled from sleep, relaxed in a way she would have once thought wasn’t possible for him, “Morning honey.”

He kisses her again, the action lost as he presses a smile against her lips, “Morning,” he looks at the clock on the nightstand and smiles when he sees it’s 3 am, “It’s technically morning anyway.”

She hums and kisses him one more time before she pulls back, placing her hand over his on their son’s back, “Is he okay? You could have woken me up.”

Aaron can’t help it when his smile gets wider, her love for their children something that never fails to make him fall impossibly more in love with her.

It was something that had started before they got together as he watched her with Jack, the little boy who would one day transition from calling her Emily to Mom. She was attentive with him, talked to him on his level, and never made him feel like he had less than all of her attention when he needed it. Jack had told Emily that he loved her before Aaron had, beating his father to the punch, and Aaron still felt guilty even all these years later about the flash of jealousy he’d felt leaning against his son’s bedroom doorframe as Emily repeated it back to him.

It was that same evening when Aaron asked her out on a date, nerves bubbling in his belly in a way they hadn’t since high school and he’d asked Haley out. Emily had barely let him finish his question, pulling him into a hug and a soft kiss before she told him she’d been waiting for him to ask.

She still made fun of him even now by bringing up the fact he’d asked her if that was a yes, as if the way she was pressed against him, the taste of her lips still lingering on his, wasn’t an answer in itself.

His love of watching her be a mother, something he’d always known she’d excel at, only increased when she was pregnant with Lucas. She’d spent the entire pregnancy worried she wouldn’t be any good at it, that her mother’s lack of maternal instinct was genetic, and he’d constantly reassured her that she’d be amazing, that she already was with Jack. The moment she’d held Lucas against her chest for the first time, her hands shaking as adrenaline and hormones washed through her, he’d seen the unrelenting love on her face as she memorised the now two-year-old’s features, her knuckles trailing down his soft skin as she soothed him with nothing more than her quiet reassurances and touch.

When they found out Elliot was going to be a boy too, he’d asked her if she was disappointed that they weren’t having a girl, both of them aware of the fact this would be their last baby. She’d simply smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, tears shining in her eyes as she told him it was clearly her lot to be surrounded by Hotchner boys, a fate she wouldn’t change for anything.

“We were okay sweetheart,” he says, turning his attention to his youngest son, pressing a kiss to his dark hair, “Right buddy?” He looks back up at his wife and passes Elliot over, knowing from her demeanour, the way her fingers twitch at her sides, that she wanted him in her arms, “I think he just wanted to snuggle, and you needed some sleep.”

She holds Elliot against her and kisses his head, “Daddy gives the best snuggles, huh Eli?” She says smiling as he immediately presses his face into her breasts, “Okay, I get it. You’re hungry.”

She adjusts her hold on the newborn and undoes the top few buttons of her shirt, the one that used to belong to Aaron, and unclips one of the cups of her maternity bra. She winces a little as Elliot latches on, scrunching her nose up as she holds him to her.

“It’s still hurting?”

She hums gently and runs her hand over the back of Elliot’s head, “Less than before his tongue-tie procedure yesterday,” she says, blowing out a slow breath as she looks up at Aaron, her lips pressed together as she takes a second to try and regulate her emotions, “At least he won’t remember it.”

Aaron wraps his arm around her shoulders and shifts closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he looks down at their son.

It had been clear since the day Elliot was born that something was different than when she’d had Lucas. He didn’t ever seem to eat enough, he barely latched and would fall asleep the moment he did, and nursing hurt in a way Emily didn’t remember it hurting the first time around. It was only when he was a week and a half old that the paediatrician told them Elliot had a tongue tie. Emily had insisted on being in the room whilst it happened, not wanting to be away from her baby for any real period of time, and whilst Aaron thought it would be best to take the doctor’s advice to step out into the hallway he let her take the lead. He’d held her tightly against his chest, his arms firm around her middle as the doctor did the procedure in front of them. Elliot had cried, something they were reassured was more of an automatic reaction than a reaction to pain, and then he’d passed right over to Emily, only calming down when he was in his mother’s arms.

��You both did really good yesterday,” he says, kissing her forehead again and she pulls back, her eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“We both know if you hadn’t been there literally holding me back I would have knocked that doctor out,” she says, looking down at her son, sighing contentedly as he continues to feed, “Even though it seems to have helped.”

“That’s because you’re his mom, sweetheart,” he says, hooking a finger under her chin to make her look up at him, stamping his lips against hers, “I’d call you a mama bear but, after you glared at Dave the one time he did, I won’t.”

She chuckles, “That’s smart.”

“I know,” he replies, his smile only getting bigger when hers does. Elliot grunts as he pulls away and both of his parents look down at him, his eyes drifting shut now he is done, “Looks like he’s full.”

Emily lifts Elliot and kisses his cheek before she settles him over her shoulder, rubbing her hand on his back, “Soon enough he’ll have the same appetite as his brothers,” she quips, “Good thing we have my trust fund otherwise we’d be screwed by the time they are teenagers.”

He laughs as he leans in and clips the cup of her bra back into place before he buttons her shirt up for her. She smiles at the gesture, the quiet way he always looked after her. At first, she’d found it suffocating. She’d struggled in the early days of their relationship with the unrelenting way he loved her, acts of service she’d never experienced from a partner before something she’d mistaken for control. She loved it now, loved how he looked after her, how he looked after their boys, and she couldn’t imagine life without it.

Elliot breaks the silence by burping and it makes them both chuckle. Emily kisses his temple, “Good boy.”

Aaron is about to offer to put him into his bassinet when the bedroom door opens, they both look over to see Lucas stepping into the room. He’s sleepy, his pjyamas rumbled and his dark hair a mess. His favourite toy, a stuffed frog that Penelope had given him, his hanging from his hand.

“Mama? Daddy?”

“Luke,” Aaron says quietly, “What’s wrong? You should be sleeping.”

“I woke up,” he says, stepping closer to the bed, his gaze shifting to his younger brother half asleep on Emily, “I sleep here?”

Aaron sighs and turns to look at his wife, his eyebrow raised as she smiles and shrugs. It had been a difficult transition for Lucas when it came to being a big brother. He’d found it hard to split his parent’s attention, especially Emily’s, with the baby and whilst they’d done everything they could to prepare him for his new sibling it was still an adjustment for all of them.

More often than not these days he would find a reason to sneak into their bed in the middle of the night, and whilst Aaron was sure it was something they should discourage he was too tired to try and have that conversation with his wife.

“Come on buddy,” he says, pulling the covers back so Lucas can join them in bed. The toddler runs over and climbs over Aaron to sit in between them, his attention immediately on his mother.

“Hi Mama,” Lucas says, resting his head on the opposite shoulder to where Elliot was lying, “Was Eli hungry?”

“Yes he was, sweet boy,” she replies, turning her head to kiss his cheek, doing it again when he giggles, “Once he’s asleep we’ll all try to get some sleep too.”

Lucas nods and leans in closer to Elliot, his nose pressed against his, “We have fun later Eli, sleep now,” he says, kissing his brother’s forehead like he’d seen both his parents do countless times.

Emily presses her lips together to stop herself from crying, the tenderness of the gesture enough to make tears press at the back of her eyes.

“That’s so sweet, Lukey,” she says, exchanging a glance with her husband before she wraps an arm around the 2-year-old and pulls him closer, “You’re such a good big brother.”

Lucas beams at her, his smile the one she hopes Elliot will have too, and he leans into her, “Need to be like Jack.”

Emily kisses his head one more time and she tilts her head to look down at Elliot, sighing gratefully when he’s asleep, “Looks like it worked, baby, he’s asleep now.”

“I’ll set him down,” Aaron says, already climbing out of bed and rounding it to gently ease the baby out of her arms, “You two stay there and settle down.”

She doesn’t argue with him, she simply nods before kissing her son’s head before she relinquishes her hold on him, “Night, Eli.”

“Night Eli,” Lucas repeats, slipping further into Emily’s embrace as she shifts to lay down, content to wrap himself around her as he rests his head on her chest, “Love you, Mama.”

She pulls him closer and rubs her hand up and down his back. She never got used to how it felt when her children told her that they loved her. It was something she never wanted to take for granted, something she knew she never would take for granted.

“Love you too, sweetie,” she says, pressing her face into his hair to breathe him in. She smiles at Aaron as he climbs back into his side and he lays down next to them, hooking his arm over the both of them. Emily’s smile gets wider and she leans into Lucas, the little boy already getting sleepy, “We love Daddy too, huh?”

Lucas nods and turns over to look at Aaron, reaching over and patting his cheek, giggling as Aaron makes a show of turning his head and kissing his palm, “Love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Lukey.”

Emily feels warmth spread through her chest at the sight of them together. Every single thing she’d been through was worth it for this, for the simple ordinary life she never thought she’d get. She wouldn’t change it for anything, and wouldn’t want to miss a moment of any of it.

Even the long early hours of the morning when sleep seemed like an impossibility.

“We should get some sleep,” Aaron says, as if reading her mind as he reaches over and ruffles Lucas’s hair, “Elliot will probably wake us all up again in an hour or so.”

Lucas’s response is cut off as the bedroom door opens again and Jack walks in, tears shining on his face as he scratches his head as he shuffles further into the room.

“Everything okay, Jack?” Emily asks softly, sitting up and resting her elbow on the bed. He shakes his head and sniffs.

“I had a bad dream,” he says, almost seeming embarrassed that he had, as if being almost 9 years old meant he should have outgrown it.

Aaron immediately shifts further away from Lucas and Emily, making space between them as he pulls back the covers, “Come on, buddy. We have room for one more.”

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice, and he climbs into the bed with his parents and his little brother, contently sighing as he snuggles up against his father.

“You ‘kay Jack?” Lucas asks, patting his cheek gently, and Jack nods.

“I’m okay, Luke,” he assures him, laying his arm over him and Emily, smiling when Emily holds his hand.

“We need sleep,” Lucas says seriously, “Eli will wake up soon.”

They all chuckle and Aaron reaches over to switch the lamp off, laying his arm over his family as he holds them close. He falls asleep content in the knowledge that they were safe and happy, and that he’d lived up to the promise he’d made to Haley.

Elliot wakes them all up just over an hour later, and Emily feeds him again, content as she sits surrounded by her Hotchner boys.

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink , @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod , @notagentprentiss @freesiasandfics , @emilyshotchniss @thecharmingart , @paulitalblond , @hancydrewfan , @camille093 , @whitecrossgirl , @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess , @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife , @ms-black-a, @beebeelank , @aubreyprc , @zipzapboingg , @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong , @fionaloover , @kinqslcys , @prentissinred , @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317 , @thrindis , @hotchsguccitie , @cmfouatslota77 , @alexblakegf , @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch , @emobabeyy , @victoiregranger , @stormyweatherth , @wanderingdreamer009 , @ssablackbird , @luhwithah , @lex13cm , @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch , @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream , @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield , @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily

65 notes · View notes

abbacchiosbelt · 11 months ago

Note

Happy belated birthday Haley!! *Domestic bruno-droid pops out a birthday cake from his chest cavity, confetti shooting out from their hands :)!!*

thank you, anon!! and thank u bruno droid 🎊

#nice stuff #android au.txt

2 notes · View notes

sunspray-peak · 1 year ago

Text

Ch. 49: Spirit's Eve Pt. 2

“You-are-supposed-to-be-in-costume-it-is-tradition-the-reporter-will-be-here-any-minute-don’t-you-care-about—”

Even in the most crowded festival of the year, Lewis and his irate spider senses had managed to track Achilles down the very second the pair had stepped foot in Pelican Town.

For Spirit’s Eve, the mayor had abandoned his usual brown newsboy cap for a crown. Draped across his chest was a thick gold chain encrusted with (likely plastic, Achilles huffily noted) rubies which sat atop a high collared, white shirt, while puffy black breeches had been tightly tucked into tall white socks to reveal a set of rather knobby knees.

Achilles shot Lewis a withering look, courtesy be damned. “I am in costume, you old ba—”

“He is in costume, Mayor Lewis!” Alex stepped forward and gave Achilles a slight shove into a passing teem of high schoolers who had just come stumbling by (no doubt tipsy). “We’ve actually got a group costume going on, the two of us. From a comic book. It’s actually quite, uh, spot on.”

“Humph. I’ll take you’re word for it.” Lewis glanced at the giggling students, all dressed in animal onesies, and then took an alarmingly large step closer to Alex and Achilles. He gave the pumpkin spice laden air a rather long, aggressive sniff. Yoba, who knew one could flare their nostrils that wide…

“Now you two stay safe tonight, boys… remember, the maze isn’t until 9pm, so don’t be hitting the bottle too soon, now… and be mindful you don’t go embarrassing the community.” And with that not entirely unexpected order, Lewis stalked off, red robes billowing behind him.

“Not even a hello.” Achilles glared sourly at the mayor’s retreating figure. “Might as well forget about a ‘happy birthday, Achilles.’ Or a ‘congratulations on saving the Valley with Abigail, Achilles.’”

“Oh, don’t think about that, it’s Lewis, he doesn’t have enough brain cells to think about more than two things at a time. Let’s forget about him. Like you said, it’s your Valley! You saved your birthday! Wait no, other way around. Ugh, whatever, you know what I mean, it’s double the celebration…” Alex seized his hand, before dropping it abruptly, and gripping Achilles’ rather tender shoulder instead. He led him through the crowd of costumed revelers towards one of the large orange tables Achilles had taken a seat at earlier that day, now topped with eight giant wooden kegs.

“Lewis just told you not to hit the bottle too early. Bit of a belated reminder…” Achilles glanced at Alex’s ever-so-slightly swaying figure. “But even so, you’re really going to disobey a direct order? From our beloved mayor?”

“Well if I’m a squire, and you’re my knight, I guess it looks like Lewis is actually our king tonight—”

“—Yoba help us, where’s the guillotine—”

“—but that’s clearly a keg, not a bottle, so I’m not disobeying anything.”

*****

Haley, her jeweled-bedecked blonde hair piled high atop her head, found them at the drink station (after shamelessly cutting the long line) and greeted them both with quick, clumsy pecks on the cheek. The hefty camera slung around her neck slung right into Achilles’ sore ribs as she awkwardly leaned towards him, the high collar of her dress colliding into his ear—her victorian ballgown, a deep, vampiric red trimmed with black lace and gemstones, was likely nearly four feet in diameter.

“Oh Alex, don’t you look adorable.” She patted his cheek before turning to Achilles. “No idea what the fuck you’re supposed to be, unfortunately, but the glasses are cute. Is your hair dyed?”

“He’s Zedd Finch! Nimbus’ coworker and best friend—”

Well, apparently more than best friend now, according to Issue #3 of the latest series…

“—he’s a meteorologist with GDL7 specializing in storm trac—”

“Babe.” She held up a gloved hand. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t care about your comic books. No offense, Achilles, you still look cute enough,” she added with a quick glance in his direction before seizing both their hands. “Oh, speaking of which—or not—wait until you see Emily’s costume—a disaster, honestly, they should go and drop her in the maze, that’ll be sure to frighten people. Shame she’s sticking with Shane tonight… come, get food with me before my shift.”

Though Achilles had seen the town only a few hours ago, it looked different in the dusk. The thousands of candles that Lewis allegedly splurged on every year were indeed spectacular—and likely magic, for the shadows they cast seemed to shift in shape, size, and even color as they danced alongside jack o’lanterns under the last rays of the sun.

But over by the stage, where a jazz band dressed as skeletons, played—there, by the drum set. One particular shadow caught his eye. Large, looming. It began to grow as Achilles watched it, blacking out all in its path as it barreled its way closer and closer, straight for him—a bitingly cold wind was accompanying its sweep over the oblivious crowd. Achilles’ vision began to cloud. Muscles tensed to run.

But his attention was suddenly caught by a cheery whoop! He turned to see Elliott who, wearing a ridiculously oversized olive top hat, was waving at him with contagious gusto over by the food.

And all subsided. Warmth slowly returned to his fingertips, and with a stubborn determination, he led Haley and Alex towards the buffet table.

Just chill out, man… everything is fine…

*****

“I painstakingly constructed it having specifically drawn from the original illustrations published alongside the first edition printing of the novel, you see—not the animated theatrical film.” To accompany Elliott’s hat (which he was now tipping in greeting) was a massive yellow bowtie with red polka dots that sat below a popped white collar that near rivaled Haley’s, a bright yellow and green checkered waistcoat (Yoba, what was with these villagers and this color combination), and plum pants, all beneath a corduroy burgundy overcoat. “I have only the utmost respect for artists and their invaluable, instrumental interpretations of the written word.”

Achilles turned from the giant hat, which had been inscribed in cursive script on the side “In this style 10/6,” to Leah, who was sporting a green hat of her own, though hers had a red feather perched in the brim.

“I, on the other hand, grabbed this from Gala Town about three hours ago. Not too many options left. Never liked working much with clothes. Wood on the other hand…” Leah gave the full sized bow strung across her chest a little pat. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way—”

“Yes! Oh yes! Oh, most joyous of birthdays to you my dear, dear friend—”

“Ow!” Elliott had seized Achilles in a bone-breaking hug. “Th-thank you…” He rubbed his arms, wincing, before turning to Leah. “No really, thank you. Elliott, Leah, Haley, you really shouldn’t have—”

“Please, my dear friend. A writer of your caliber needs his equipment! Once you divulged your preferred tools of the trade, I agreed with Alexander that a typewriter was for you an utmost necessity, and it was our duty to provide!”

At these words, Achilles remembered that Elliott had paid for nearly half of what had likely been a whopping total of $800 or so. Now where had the man gotten the money…

“Apparently, our friend here won the lottery seven years ago,” Leah whispered as if she could read his mind. She held their hug for a few seconds longer to add, “Or maybe some rich aunt died? I don’t remember. Anyway, he swore he’d never spend a cent of it until he had finished his novel. But I guess he made an exception for you. Don’t tell him I said anything.”

An exception?

The sinking feeling had returned to his stomach. He really didn’t deserve that—what had he done to justify such a gift? Written a first draft of a second rate children’s chapter book? Completed a paltry, painful outline for a novel? It was ridiculous. He’d done nothing.

Worthless.

Unworthy.

Shaking his head in—Disbelief? Gratitude? Shame?—Achilles pivoted back to his secret-millionaire friend. Elliott, blissfully unaware of Leah’s revelation, was only too happy to accept a second hug.

Haley though, unable to adequately receive his embrace of thanks with her many petticoats, waved him away with a graceful flutter of her fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, dear Alex wouldn’t shut the fuck up about getting you the damn thing, so don’t thank me, I didn’t have much of a choice.” Nevertheless, she gifted him a warm enough smile just before shoving a tumbler into his hand. “Now. Birthday shots!” She somehow must have managed to steal an entire handle of tequila from the drink station and had poured each of them a generous serving. “Cheers!”

*****

After quite a few rounds of additional cheers-ing (though Achilles and Haley had both switched to water after the first), countless increasingly dramatic toasts (mostly courtesy of Elliott), and one dizzying ride on the Halloween carousel, Haley began to shepherd the small group over to her and Emily’s backyard, where a small sign had been stapled to the fence: “Photo Booth Opens at 9pm.”

“Pics please! Not that one, the one over—ugh, yes. Obviously.” She gestured for them to head towards the “Fall Foliage” backdrop, boughs of artfully draped red and gold that glowed under surrounding lanterns. “Pics before you all reek of alcohol and drip ketchup and caramel and Yoba knows what else all over your costumes… ugh, where is Emily…” She bustled back out into the crowd in search of her sister.

“Hey, look over there.” Alex gave Achilles a small nudge and nodded towards an approaching trio. “Now there’s the real knight of Pelican Town.”

Abigail, still a bit of a ways away but determined to make herself noticed among the tourists, was punching the air with her gauntlet-covered fists. Full plate armor covered her from head to (one) toe (for her entire left leg was wrapped in a navy blue cast). In fact, it would have been difficult to tell it was Abigail, had it not been for the peak of purple hair flowing out from beneath her helmet.

Sebastian, wearing an impressive set of vampire fangs, was pushing her wheelchair while Sam, dressed not unlike one of the scrawny scarecrows that were currently adorning the haunted hay ride uptown, walked alongside him.

“Damn.” Achilles turned to Alex and was alarmed to find his face so close. What is happening? He took a small step back, into the fence. “So if she’s the real knight, what does that leave me?”

“Peasant. One of the ones that got KO’d by the bell in the explosion during the season finale of—”

“All right—”

“I’m kidding, you can be my king,” Alex somewhat slurred, rolling his eyes as he clasped Achilles’ shoulder. “Seeing as we’re apparently getting rid of Lewis…”

“Oh right. Do I murder him? No, I’ll get someone to assassinate him—cleaner that way. You, I’ll get you, loyal squire—”

Alex clicked his tongue and gave him another goodhearted nudge. “Why is it always murder with you? Maybe he just died of old age—”

“Old age? Where’s the fun in that? And you call yourself a House of the Phoenix fan—”

“Oh my gooooood, your guys’ costumes are amaaaazing.”

Abigail had finally made her way over to the yard, and Achilles could now see the familiar obsidian sword laying across her lap. The sight brought to him a small shudder.

“Hey! How ya feeling, Abby?” Alex asked, offering a fist bump as the rest of the group made room for the newcomers. “You’re looking good. This one over here’s unable to even button his shirts.”

“All right—”

“The trials of being old,” Abigail said with a wink. “Man, how’d he rope you into that, I tried to get Seb to do a couples costume with me this year but nope.”

Sebastian gazed grimly from behind her. “She wanted me to wear a tiara. And a dress.”

“Dang shame, Seb, you could’ve been our princess,” Alex said to everyone present’s vague confusion except Achilles’.

“Alas. Instead you’re matching with Haley,” Abigail sighed, theatrically holding the back of her hand to her forehead.

Haley, who had just returned from plowing through the crowd with a horrifying clown (Emily?), Shane, and what looked to be Jas and Vincent in tow, scrunched her nose in disdain upon hearing her name and the context of its usage.

“Elliott, to the back please,” she directed, dragging over some large LED lights.

“Anyway, love what you guys did.” Abigail pivoted her wheelchair forward and pumped her fist. “We stan a man comfortable with his sexuality.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” Achilles quickly added, noting the furrow in Alex’s brow. Fuck. Leave it to Abigail. “What do you mean?”

“Oh whoops, my b.” Abigail turned to face the two of them, thumbing her chin as she closely scrutinized their costumes again. “You two are Nimbus and Zedd, though, right?”

“Yeah, yeah! You’re actually the first person—was a total concidense—sorry, coincidence—last minute costume for Ash—”

“Well, like, they’re dating as of the latest issue, right?”

“What?” Alex’s eyes had turned to saucers as he clutched the back of Abigail’s chair.

“Yeah, it was a pretty damn big deal. First LGBT superhero for MD comics. Did you guys not know?”

Achilles took a step to the left, keeping his face impassive and pretending to listen to Haley as she continued to stage her photo, (“Leah, come forward a bit—no honey, Jas, you stay where you are”) though his ears were very much still tuned in to the conversation to his right.

Alex on the other hand, had remained hovering over Abigail’s shoulder. The girl was now yanking on Sebastian’s red-lined cape. “Phone, please, my good vampire lord.”

“Nah, I haven’t read the comics in like 15 years—they’re dating? Seriously?” Achilles felt Alex’s eyes turn to him. “Did you know this?”

Is he just curious?

Is he upset?

Achilles smoothly responded, “Ohhh, I also haven’t read the comics in like 15 years.” Wasn’t a lie. Technically. “Oh, sorry, what’d you say, Haley?”

“I said get the fuck over here—”

“Yeah, see, take a look.” Abigail had pulled up a photo of the cover on her phone. The one that Achilles had seen in the pop culture section of his news app just last season. Emblazoned on the front was, as Achilles very much knew, a closeup of Nimbus kissing Zedd Finch on the cheek as the two sat stop a skyscraper.

“Personally, I think they should’ve really just gone all out,” Abigail continued to blabber, handing the phone to Alex for a better look as Achilles took another step to his left to escape whatever the potential fallout from this revelation would be. “I mean, just a cheek kiss? Come on, like, let’s really piss off the homophobes, let me see that ass—but I mean, like, progress is progress, or whatever they say, right—”

Haley was gnawing on a piece of gum, glaring daggers at the pair as her pointy red nails tapped against her camera. “Hello?”

But Alex’s attention remained on Abigail’s phone in his hand. It was a too long of a beat (in Achilles’ opinion) before he said with a small shrug, “Oh, I see. Huh. Yikes, we didn’t know that. But… yeah. I guess that’s nice.”

A “yikes” and an “I guess that’s nice.” Well, that wasn’t… terrible. Definitely could’ve been worse. Achilles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Alex took yet another second to study the cover before handing the phone to Achilles for him to take a look. “Who’d have thunk, huh? Oh wait, I’ve got an idea—hey, Haley,” he called, waving for her attention. “Over here—Ash—”

And then Alex stepped towards him, his left arm wrapping around Achilles’ shoulder, and pulled him into his chest.

Time slowed as he placed his right hand atop Achilles’ front pocket. Slid it up his collarbone, up the curve of his neck. Let his pointer finger rest just below his ear.

Alex cupped Achilles’ face, and he kissed him.

On the cheek, of course.

But still, Achilles thought in a rose gold haze.

He could feel the warmth of Alex’s lips, firm against his skin. Felt that warmth spread rapidly through every vein in his body.

For seconds—or was it minutes? Maybe hours—Achilles stood, frozen.

There was a flash of light. And the spell was broken.

Alex likewise broke from him. He gave Achilles’ shoulder a quick squeeze and an even quicker smile.

“All right, all right, I got it Alex.” Haley glanced through the viewfinder of her camera. “Now will you get your ass over here, please and thank you—Abigail, in the front, by Vincent. Yes. Perfect.”

Haley handed her camera to Gus (a viking for tonight), all the while scowling about the difficulties of photographing large groups. But as she picked up her skirts and hurried to stand next to Sam, she flashed Achilles the smallest, most mischievous smile.

Achilles turned away, breathing deeply as he helped Abigail raise the visor of her helmet.

He’s drunk.

It’s nothing.

Alex’s hand hadn’t left his shoulder, though his right hand was now around Sebastian’s as Gus gestured for them to scoot closer to each other. He could feel Alex’s leg against his own now.

Smile, bitch!

Snap, snap, snap. More flashing lights.

It’s nothing.

He’s drunk.

Haley kissed you on the cheek 30 minutes ago. Hell, you kissed Haley on the cheek thirty minutes ago.

It doesn’t mean anything.

But it hadn’t been the same. No, Haley’s had been a greeting. Nothing else. Quick. Chaste. This one had felt… charged. Meaningful.

Stop overthinking.

But Alex had been touching him more than usual tonight—right? Always brushing his hand, brushing his arm... always right there… looking at him…

Well, he’s also very drunk. You’re reading way too much into this.

“Very cute.” Haley was scrolling through her camera now at the photos Gus had taken. “All right, you’re all free to go and drink yourselves to an early grave.”

There was Alex’s hand on his wrist again… he let himself be led through the yard as the rest of the group dispersed.

“Haley, lemme see, I want to see.”

She had taken a delicate seat by a small, circular table where a printer and laptop had been set up.

“One for you, one for you.” She handed them each a Polaroid. “I’ll get everyone the group shots tomorrow. Now scoot, I haven’t got much time for real dinner. Damn dress…” With a groan, she heaved her petticoats from the chair.

“We can get you dinner,” Achilles rushed to say, stubbornly refusing to look at the photograph gripped tightly between his fingers. “Just tell me what you want.”

She collapsed back into the chair with a sigh. “What a lovely boy. Just get me a fruit salad and some of that coconut chicken curry.” She shot a narrow-eyed glance at Alex, who, unlike Achilles, was studying the photo intently. “Satisfied?”

“Oh yeah! This is great. Talk about a comic book cover.” Alex raced towards Haley and, picking her and her many skirts up from the chair, twirled her in a tight embrace as she screeched and attempted to deliver a punch to his head.

See? Just Alex being Alex.

As the two continued to playfully duke it out (though it could be argued Haley was punching for real), Achilles steeled his nerves—seriously, what’s your problem, it’s nothing—and flipped over the little square.

There it was. Proof that it hadn’t all been a dream. Other than Achilles’ (regrettably) somewhat bemused expression, they had recreated the comic book cover remarkably well. Mostly thanks to Alex, of course, who had mimicked Nimbus’ posture and position with admirable accuracy, given the quick glance he had had at Abigail’s phone.

Couldn’t have even try to look happy, you stupid fuck. Just can’t be happy, can you?

A shoulder nudge. “You look good!” Alex had set Haley back down, and she was now staring daggers at the pair as she fixed her ruffled skirts, muttering curses under her breath.

“This looks more than good, this booth looks absolutely wonderful, my dear! Haley, you have truly outdone yourself this year!”

Evelyn and George had arrived, Dusty trotting at the latter’s wheels.

It was as if a light switched had been flicked. Alex seemed to have sobered up within the three seconds it took to slip the photo up his sleeve. Achilles, slightly alarmed by the sudden transformation, followed suit, sliding his polaroid into the back pocket of his jeans just as George wheeled himself closer to the pair.

“Having a good night, boys?” Alex’s grandpa eyed their hands suspiciously. Perhaps he had caught the tail end of his grandson’s rushed movement.

“Only just getting started, sir,” Alex half-stammered, taking a step back and tripping over a light.“About to grab Haley dinner, actually.”

And before Achilles could even ask about them about the pumpkin carving, he felt Alex’s hand discreetly at his back, pushing him towards the exit.

*****

“Bit of an abrupt departure, there,” Achilles remarked once they were well out of earshot.

“Do you think he saw the photo?”

Alex’s face was still pale as he spooned macaroni and cheese onto a paper plate. With all the hubbub around the buffet tables, it was difficult to discern Alex’s murmured tones, and Achilles had no choice but to move closer.

“No… but honestly, do you really think it’d be a big deal? It’s not like we were… I don’t know… making out.” Even just saying the words brought a discomforting prickle to his cheeks. “You kiss Haley on the cheek all the time, he’s not going to disown you for a silly photo…” Achilles turned to Alex, whose face had remained solemn as he stared unseeing at a tray of potato balls. “Is he?”

“I don’t know… he’s weird about this stuff…”

An impatient jab from someone dressed as a bottle of ranch sent the two continuing down the table to grab silverware.

“I mean…” And here, Achilles forced himself to laugh as they began to make their way back to Haley’s photo booth station. “He’s knows you’re straight. What’s there to be pissed about?”

“Yeah…” At these words, Alex—whether subconsciously or not—released his grip from Achilles’ arm and shrugged. “He wouldn’t want me engaging in any ‘potentially problematic behaviors,’ though. That’s what he’d always say whenever I hung out with Sebastian, after he came out… it became a whole thing and it just… it’s been like ten years but I don’t know, it… it’s never really felt the same between us after all that… just… wouldn’t want that to happen with us…

“Nah, but you’re right.” Alex ran a hand through his hair. But he avoided Achilles’ commiserating gaze, instead studying a row of enchanted skeletons square dancing inside the massive metal cage Achilles had seen earlier. “I’m overreacting. Must be the alcohol…”

*****

By the time they returned to Haley’s Photo Booth station (joined by Elliott and Leah, who had brought bottles of hard cider for all, and shortly thereafter by Penny, a blue fairy; and Maru, an astronaut), the raincloud George had left hovering over Alex had evaporated. All smiles, he had been quick to kickstart a jolly, drunken game of “Never Have I Ever” among the small group as they ate their dinner.

Achilles, however, had excused himself from playing—a decision that no one, including Alex (to his slight disappointment) had fought—and was now robotically spooning pumpkin pie into his mouth, only half-watching his friends roar with laughter as a scarlet faced Elliott put a finger down.

The drizzle of doom and gloom, it seemed, had decided to drift over to Achilles instead.

So that’s the read on George, then.

Oh, he’d tolerate these “problematic behaviors” in others, it seemed—clearly, if Haley, Sebastian, Abigail, and now Achilles were still “allowed” in Alex’s life, insulting side comments notwithstanding —but his homophobia must’ve been even more extensive than Achilles had realized if even the slightest chance of George witnessing what had been an entirely innocent affair had managed to rattle Alex to that extent.

What had George called Achilles before? Unnatural? And to his face!

Honestly, it’s probably better that Alex is straight, Achilles thought to himself ruefully. Imagine having to deal with that in your house.

For multiple reasons, the thought brought an ache to Achilles’ heart, and he found himself absentmindedly fingering the polaroid in his pocket.

They had grown closer this past season, him and Alex. Close enough to have even ignited the barest spark of hope for Achilles that there could be something more.

But that had been idiotic. Even if Alex was interested—which he wasn’t— it hadn’t been the real Achilles with whom Alex had laughed and learned. Not really. The Shadow King… hadn’t it claimed responsibility for his more carefree and content attitude of late?

No, the real Achilles was, as presently evidenced, a bitter, restless man unable to relinquish the past to better value the present.

Can’t always get what you want. You learned that a long time ago.

And yet you still just can’t let it go.

“Are you well, my friend?”

Achilles missed his mouth and whacked his nose with a spoon of pie.

“Your visage seems paler than usual. Perhaps the evening’s activities have overexerted you. Our fine doctor did advise rest…”

“No, no.” Achilles dabbed his nose with a napkin before setting it neatly on his empty plate to reveal a wan smile. “I’m fine, Elliott. But thank you. ”

“A bit dazed, perhaps? Still weary from your subterraneous endeavor?”

“I suppose.”

But Elliott continued to watch him closely, an expectant smile plastered on his face as if waiting for an elaborated response.

But Achilles was still not keen on reliving his time in the mines, and despite his obvious curiosity, Elliott’s loyalty to Achilles’ mental well-being and Harvey’s orders stayed true. After a few further beats, when it became clear Achilles had nothing more to say, the Mad Hatter lightly patted his wrist brace, and offered him a freshly cracked bottle of cider.

“Ah. No thank you, I think I’m good for tonight.”

“You are not planning to undertake the haunted maze? Perhaps that is most wise—I myself oft initially look to eschew that most terrorizing of traditions. And yet every year, I find myself drawn back once again, like a moth to a flame…”

“Pardon? No, I was planing on doing the maze, but what’s that got to do—”

“Ah! I see. So no one has warned you.”

“Warned me?”

This time, Elliott gently unclasped Achilles’ fingers and folded them around the bottle. “Ah… I should not say… it is an open secret the townsfolk and tourists like to keep… that being said, you best drink up, my friend.”

“What’s liquor got to do with a maze—”

“Liquid courage, Achilles! In the most literal sense—it is said to be most unwise to brave the maze without the influence of alcohol.”

“AKA: people get absolutely fucking sloshed.” Leah, having overheard their conversation, was now peaking her head past Elliott’s large frame.

“That seems like an absolutely fucking terrible idea. A haunted maze? Drunk?”

“You’ll see,” Leah said, handing him her own shot glass. “Now hurry up, birthday boy, maze starts in 15 and you’re well behind.”

*****

But despite everyone’s warnings and the multiple glasses that had been shoved into his only functioning hand, Achilles couldn’t bring himself to potentially lose the last bits of serenity and sanity his mind was still desperately clinging to.

And so, when Lewis’ magically enhanced voice reached their ears asking participants to please make their way to Pelican Park, he found himself alone in his relative sobriety, walking what was likely the only straight line through the town square and up the stone stairs towards the park.

There were no children here, he noticed. Though perhaps he was merely mistaken, for this side of the park was hidden in sullen shadow—a stark contrast to the brightly lit hay ride over to their right, where one could easily make out high pitched belly laughs and jaunty folk music.

“Good luck.” Haley, who apparently skipped the maze every year, flashed him a subtle wink before leaving the dwindling group (Penny and Maru were similarly forgoing the event, opting for laser tag down by the graveyard instead) and returning downtown to open her photo booth.

“Make sure you sign your waivers, please!” Marnie, who was looking surprisingly elegant this evening with silver flowers threaded through her braid, shoved a clipboard and pen towards him.

“And there’s our queen,” Alex slurred in Achilles’ ear, nodding rather obviously toward her rich velvet dress and tiara. “Queen Lewis and King Marnie—wait no, the other way… wait did we kill him, I forget…”

Achilles gave the waiver a one-stroke scribble with his left hand, and in return, Marnie tied a neon green paper band around his wrist.

The line moved forward. Was it an illusion, or was it somehow growing even darker? Even the lights by the hay ride seemed to grow dim… the noise more distant…

And that unnatural chill again. Ice flared, alongside panic, in his veins, rooting him in the grass.

“It’s just magic,” Alex murmured. “The Wizard does it every year, nothing to worry about.” And there was his hand, warm and familiar now around Achilles’ upper arm. His comforting squeeze thawed Achilles’ muscles, and he hurried to close the distance between them and Elliott and Leah ahead.

Of course. Magic.

He squinted in the dark for any signs of Rasmodius. They hadn’t spoken since he and Abigail had entered the mines, but he found no puffs of purple smoke, no cloaked figures. Ahead, there was only a thick hedge wall, where participants were entering the maze through a narrow gap.

“Please make sure you cross the threshold with your exact party. We recommend parties of two to six,” Lewis called from atop a small stage lined with thin candles that cast him in a ghostly, pale blue light.

But just as he, Achilles, Elliott, and Leah were about to cross the gap, Alex tripped over a discarded beer can and sent himself sprawling onto the ground.

“Man, are you even going to be able to stand in there?” With a bit of a grunt, Achilles helped him up from the grass with a literal single hand, for Elliott and Leah in their tipsy states of mind had sauntered in without a backwards glance.

“Don’t worry about me.” Alex chucked the beer can into a nearby trash bin. “Worry about yourself you silly sober little man.”

They passed the walls of the hedge into a clearing where the queue had broken into their different parties, now waiting scattered throughout the dimly lit grass. Over by the westernmost side, they could make out Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail, who was clearly not allowing her injuries to deter her from the fun.

Not particularly maze-like, the room was a simple square, perhaps 70x70 feet (Achilles never did lose his impulse to estimate distance after the past Spring), enclosed on all four sides by rows of enchanted candles casting monstrous shadows against the 12 foot tall walls of dense, midnight blue shrubbery.

Yoba, the sour stench of alcohol was overwhelming. Disgusting. How in the world was this allowed?

Alex and Achilles had just managed to push their way past pie eyed revelers towards Elliott and Leah when a voice boomed like thunder from above.

“Good evening, travelers.” Rasmodius. But the Wizard himself was still nowhere to be found. “And a very spooky Spirit’s Eve to you all…”

Across the clearing, voices quickly quieted down. The hedges rustled softly as a thin breeze began to blow.

“What will you encounter in the maze this year?” Rasmodius’ hummed. “Your darkest fears? Your most twisted desires? Your grimmest memories?”

One by one, the candles lining the perimeter began to flicker out.

“Beware… those brave enough to solo the haunted maze may never find themselves free from its grasp… but for those choosing safety in numbers instead, I have additional words of warning: are you prepared to share the depths of your unconscious mind with your chosen companions? What is there waiting to be revealed in the recesses of the Astral Plane?”

The Astral Plane?

“Wait—” Achilles’ hand, scrambling in the rapidly growing darkness for something secure, found Alex’s cape. “Al, what’s going to happen—”

He wasn’t ready. Not for this, not for—

The breeze had transformed into a howling wind that hurled through the clearing, tearing leaves and stems from the surrounding hedges. Faster and faster it whirled, sending dust whipping through the air, so that they were forced to close their eyes and hold their breaths. The temperature plummeted, but Achilles’ buried apprehension seized the opportunity to surge, as wails and screams overtook his ears.

And then, with a thud, he slammed into the ground.

#llnks #my fic #sdv fic #stardew fic #stardew valley fanfiction #stardew valley alex #sdv alex #stardew valley oc #sdv alex x farmer

4 notes · View notes

universepines7102 · 2 years ago

Text

Pocket Stella Zhau

Yep, another Amphibia reference. Here's Pocket Stella!

P.s.: Happy belated Birthday to Haley Tju!

#the loud house #Stella Zhau

8 notes · View notes

oofuri2003 · 2 years ago

Note

oh wow my birthday was just yesterday how funny!!!! happy birthday haley :D - lesfujo anon

OMG HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY!!!!! Capricorns lets go!!!!!! Thank you!!

#lesfujo anon #were almost bday twins!!!!

3 notes · View notes

ninzied · 6 years ago

Text

another kind of goodbye

for @carry-the-sky. happy birthday, my friend! have a little post-cancellation kastle fic.

It’s three months, give or take, when Frank lets himself think about her again. Really think about her. Not in the passing kind of way, where he’s walking down some street and sees a bouquet of gardenias, like the kind he’d almost gotten her instead of the roses that day. Or when he’s sipping on coffee, and Karen’s face flashes like a mirage at him across the cheap Formica table – blonde hair almost white under the shit diner lighting, but those eyes still so blue as she told him he would never lie to her.

So – okay, so he thinks about her. He thinks about her.

(He wonders if she—)

Frank eventually makes his way back to the city again, after. Another day, another job. Madani thinks he’s meant for something greater than this – than picking off these scum-of-the-earth kinds of assholes that litter the streets of a place like New York.

He can’t believe that he was meant for greater, but. Sometimes, he does wonder. If a part of him – whatever part of him that’s not still buried deep down in the ground with his family – was meant to come back here. To walk these streets and feel the pull of her, always, even when that’s all he can afford to feel.

He tells himself that has to be enough.

He’s been laying low, since his return. Coughed up some cash for a three-hundred-square-footer in Brooklyn, but he crosses the bridge to the city most days, maybe even finds his way to Hell’s Kitchen from time to time too. It’s risky, he knows. If Murdock catches wind of him, they’d be lucky to walk away from each other in one piece. And Karen…

There’d be a different kind of hell to pay, if Karen ever found out.

His phone gives a single buzz in his pocket as he’s hunkering his way down 47th, and he stops in his tracks, nearly colliding with an elderly woman in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Excuse me!” she says in a shrill voice, bag clutched tight to her chest.

“Apologies, ma’am,” he nods as she makes a show of putting as much distance between them as possible, and then he fishes his phone out, hesitating for one absurd moment before glancing down at the screen.

Back in town yet, Castle?

He barks out a laugh. Chrissakes, Madani.

His phone buzzes again.

I have a job for you, if you’re still interested.

“Still,” mutters Frank, with a scoffing shake of his head. He thinks he admires her perseverance, but Madani’s gotta know she’s only wasting her breath.

He cuts south down 10th, toward Lincoln Tunnel. It’s a brisk day, and the wind on his face feels sharper than usual, considering he hasn’t bled much there in a while. He jams his hands deeper into his pockets, ignoring the insistent drone of Madani’s follow-up call.

He’s got a date with a park bench on the wrong side of town, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s the same bridge overlooking the water, and when he opens them again Karen’ll be there, waiting for him.

…

His closest call comes with, of all people, the lawyer. Not Red – the other one. Franklin Nelson.

Frank’s emerging with coffee two storefronts down just as another door opens, and he’s cursing himself for not seeing the signs when out tumbles Nelson with his back turned, adjusting his tie against the wind.

“Foggy bear, wait!” someone else is laughing, and a blonde lady steps out to chase after him, slinging a purse over her shoulder and reaching with her other hand to link around his elbow.

“I told him this was gonna make me late for work,” grumbles Nelson, but without any heat to the words. “Dad’s surprise party isn’t until tomorrow, don’t know why this couldn’t have waited – oh, crap, I forgot I told Karen I’d pick up some coffee—”

Nelson’s about-facing sharply, girlfriend following closely behind. He doesn’t appear to notice Frank crouched down in a corner by the 7-Eleven, hood obscuring half his face as he trains his eyes on the ground by their feet. The girl unearths some coins from her bag as they pass, clinking them onto the lid of Frank’s coffee cup without seeming to hear his low mutter of thanks.

He’s leapt up the moment he hears the door latch shut, brushing the coins into his palm as he goes.

He leaves them with a guy camped out by the train stop, a dog lifting her head from their blankets to blink sleepy eyes up at Frank, and he walks away harder, takes the steps two at a time and wishes – God he wishes—

…

Another text from Madani.

He shuts his phone off. Goes back to retrieve it ten seconds later from the trash can that he’d dumped it in, wiping it down and scowling as her message pops up on the screen.

Castle – offer still stands, FYI.

“You should call her back,” advises a man huddled down by the newsstands next to him. His face is like leather, worn down and weathered with age, with living. “Apologize for whatever it is that you did, so you don’t end up out here like me.”

“Already there,” Frank tells him, turning the phone over and over in his hand. Madani’s message lights up again each time, flashing and flashing until he sees it like a burn through his retinas even when the phone’s no longer facing him.

“Damn. That’s a damn shame.” The guy shifts, scratching at a spot on his back. “Maybe shouldn’t’ve stayed away from her for so long.”

Frank shakes his head, uttering a short, incredulous laugh. “Well, maybe I got my reasons, yeah? You think about that?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” shrugs the guy. “Does she think they’re any good? These reasons of yours?”

Frank turns away, jaw working furiously.

“Yeah.” The guy shouldn’t have any right to sound as smug as he does, and yet. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

…

He’s got no place in coming here. He knows it. He knows it, but he thinks it was always meant to be this way, him circling back around to her, even after everything that he’s done to push her away. Maybe a part of him had never left. And the rest is just – there, hovering right at the edge of some sharp realization, that he could try to be whole again if he simply took that first step. And a part of Karen must at least sense that. It’s why she’d never really given up on him, before.

It doesn’t change how I feel about you.

Frank wonders if she’d forgive him this time. If he’d even want her to.

It wouldn’t be anything close to what he deserves, that’s for goddamn sure.

He gazes up at her fire escape, counts the number of steps it would take just to be able to reach that bottom rung from his vantage point across the street. Her shades are drawn, the lines of them blurred out in the dim orange light. On one corner of the windowsill, wedged up against the glass, there’s a small stack of books. On the other, a vase. From this angle, the shadows folded into the fabric of her curtains look almost like flower stems.

Frank squints, and the stems disappear.

…

There’s about a week in between, where he feels himself inching closer to something, each time he drops by her block. He never goes farther than the patch of sidewalk across from her building, but it’s getting harder not to just careen over the ledge.

More than anything, he wishes he knew, in those moments obscured in half-darkness, whether he’s come to look for that after she’d spoke of, or if he’s come to say goodbye.

Then, one day he spots flowers in her window, for the first time since—

(They’re pale white against the cream of her curtains, their stems dark slivers of green, and he imagines them pricking the pad of his thumb, drawing up a spot of blood.)

Frank takes a deep breath.

…

She doesn’t look surprised to see him when she opens the door, swinging it back two-thirds of the way before stopping. Her lips are pressed tightly together, like there’s too much to say, or maybe there’s things that she can’t, either way he can’t read her and he thinks she’s never terrified him more.

Frank drops his gaze, mouth moving soundlessly until the words grind their way out. “How’d you know I was here, Karen?”

He’s not sure what kind of answer he’s expecting. That Nelson had grown a real pair of eyes, or that Red had managed to ferret him out of his lurking somehow. Or maybe Karen really just hadn’t known at all, and those flowers were never for him.

What Karen says instead is, “Dinah and I grab a beer together, sometimes.”

“That right?” he asks, trying to lay out an image of this in his mind. It sits strangely there, stumping him for a moment, and some of his bewilderment must show on his face because Karen’s mouth almost turns up in a smile before flattening again.

She leans away from the doorjamb, waving her hand in a worn-looking gesture before letting it drop to her side. “Besides, you…haven’t exactly been subtle, in your haunting of Hell’s Kitchen.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, other than a gruff, “’S’what dead men do, Karen,” as she folds her arms and sighs at him.

“You sure you’re not just losing your touch, Frank?” She steps into the doorway, whether to move closer to him or to block him out of her apartment, he can’t tell. “Or was it because you wanted me to know but couldn’t tell me to my face?”

His eyes snap up to hers, twitching slightly under the sharp weight of her gaze. He shakes his head, wishing he could just ask her, What do you want from me, Karen? but they’re long past that now, and if he can’t find his own way to answer her, then.

God, he really doesn’t deserve this woman.

“I think I—” He shifts his body and tries again. “I think I needed to figure some things out. Karen. I was waiting 'til I felt like I was ready, and I don’t think I’ll ever be that.” But I’m here, he wants to say, but I’m here.

“Yeah.” Karen’s nodding, hair falling into her face, and she brushes it back, resting her chin in her palm for a moment. “I know that, Frank.” All of the fight in her seems to have ebbed slowly back, and he resists the urge to reach out and shake the storm back into motion, to make her understand she doesn’t get to let him off the hook so easy.

The look she gives him now is softer, but he knows. Fight’s not done. May never be done. And he knows this because he knows he’ll never stop fighting for her.

She’s stepped back into the door, letting it swing open further. She doesn’t invite him in, but she’s quirked an eyebrow up at him, biting her lip with another deep sigh and a shake of her head.

“You, uh.” Frank glances back and forth at their surroundings, doesn’t quite meet her eye. Tries to lighten his tone through the gruffness as he asks her, “So, you wanted to see me?”

Her voice is soft, forbearing, with a hint of gentle knowing behind it. “You didn’t?”

She’s holding back the clear start of a smile from him this time, and Frank. Christ. It’s taking everything in him not to step toward her, to—

Karen tilts her chin at him, the motion loosening another wave of blonde hair, and he can’t remember anymore why he was trying so hard to stand back from all this. He’s moving, swaying forward until she’s just an arm’s length away, and there’s something almost teasing about the way she relaxes her shoulder into the door as she watches him.

“You back to kill some people, Frank?”

He feels a corner of his mouth turn up. This girl. He licks his lips, lets out a quiet sort of laugh. “That was the plan, yeah.”

Karen gazes up at him, unblinking. “Have you?”

“I was—” Frank has to look away for a moment, finally turning back when he can. His eyes are steady, boring into hers, voice low and full with meaning. “I was. Working on it.”

Karen nods. Doesn’t speak for long seconds, and he measures them out in heartbeats, chest tightening hard enough it feels like it might break when she asks him, very carefully, “Still?”

Frank steps closer, close enough to feel the way her breath shakes with a small sigh, how her body moves away from the door to meet him.

His hand is inches from hers, but he doesn’t reach for her. Not yet.

She waits, gaze searching. He gives the barest shake of his head, and a single word, gravel-filled, a promise. “No.”

Something cracks open in her expression, and it means everything to him, her head ducking away as though she can’t have him looking too closely at the way she's biting back that smile of hers, and he thinks – he thinks he wants to make her do it again, and again, for as long as she will have him.

“Would you like to come in, Frank?”

He takes her hand in his this time, feeling the pull of her as he steps across the threshold, door shutting firmly behind them, and it feels like coming home.

#kastle #kastleff #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastledaily #happy belated birthday haley!!!!!!#sorry for the unpolishedness #i may go back and edit it up a bit later lol #but i wanted to have something for you because you've been so lovely and welcoming!#i can't thank you enough!

129 notes · View notes