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sweetjulieapples · 3 months ago

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Dear Commander - Chapter 15: The Herald's Green Inquisition-issued Scarf

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

The Inquisition make their way to The Temple of Sacred Ashes to seal the breach. Cullen notices that The Herald is wearing a green scarf and proceeds to overthink that.

Full chapter below:

“And when the breach in the sky has been sealed, tell me - what happens next?”

This was the question on everyone’s mind. For most, it was a matter of duty. What jobs lie ahead after the breach and any left over rifts were done away with? What to rebuild? Where to next? For others, it was far more dire. The looming uncertainty of where to live and what purpose to have. What need has The Inquisition of hundreds of mages?

Chancellor Roderick asked the question, not out of curiosity, but of provocation. His words dripped with sarcasm, laced with condescending questioning in an attempt to provoke a reaction. The Ambassador, with all her grace, remained unfazed by his mockery. Maintaining a courteous smile and speaking with a gentle voice, Josephine responded calmly and with poise. “The Inquisition has plenty more work in Thedas, Chancellor. I do hope that The Chantry will come to see that in due time.”

“I will see that Val Royeaux puts an end to this heretical movement —”

“Roderick,” Juliette interrupted as she walked into the chantry. “It’s so lovely to see that you are working hard to do your part,” she stood at Josephine’s side and folded her arms. The ladies exchanged a subtle glance before Juliette continued, “Helping prepare to seal the breach and not getting in anyone’s way at all.” She smirked and with a sarcastic whisper added, “The Maker must be so proud.”

Roderick sneered with disgust. “Mock if you will. Your very presence is a blasphemous assault against all that is holy.”

Juliette's laugh burst forth abruptly, a harsh, cackle that seemed more of a snort than a genuine response. "That's a tad dramatic, no?" Roderick glared at her crude reaction. “It’s funny you should say that though, Chancellor,” Juliette said smugly. “I was actually sent here by Mother Giselle to fetch you. I doubt she’d appreciate waiting too long.”

He screwed up his face with frustration and snapped, “That is not what I meant and you know it.” He swiftly turned and made his way towards the exit, leaving Josephine and Juliette behind with amused smiles.

“I’m most grateful for Mother Giselle’s timing.”

“Oh, I haven’t the faintest clue where Mother Giselle is or what she’s doing. I just wanted him out of my sight,” Juliette confessed with a proud grin.

“Oh,” Josie laughed. “Very nice work, Herald.”

Juliette tilted her head to the side as they began to walk towards the war room. “Can’t you just do your thing, Josie? You know, a whisper here, rumor there…” A mischievous grin grew on Juliette’s face. “Could you start a scandal, get him booted from The Chantry?”

“Very easily,” Josephine laughed. “Believe me, I’ve thought of it more than once.”

“You have far more patience than I,” Juliette laughed. She stopped and gave Josephine a warm smile. “You’re really good at this, you know?”

“That means a lot. Thank you, Herald,” Josephine replied graciously. “I’ll be a moment longer yet but the others will be in soon. I’ll see you in the war room shortly?”

Juliette's smile widened in an exaggerated show of cheerfulness. “Oh, I’ll be there,” she said, the forced brightness in her voice not quite masking her exhaustion.

When Juliette pushed open the door to the war room, her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sight. Cullen was leaning over the table, the soft glow of candles casting warm light and gentle shadows that highlighted the strong, chiseled lines of his features. He glanced up once hearing the door open. Their eyes locked in that instant—an electric, unspoken recognition passing between them.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as Juliette stepped inside, her steps hesitant as though she contemplated turning to run away. She could feel her cheeks flush slightly, a nervous warmth spreading through her. Cullen’s gaze, though steady, revealed a flicker of surprise and something softer, more vulnerable, before he quickly looked away to clear his throat. The silence that followed stretched out, heavy and awkward, amplifying the unspoken emotions between them.

Juliette made her way to the end of the table, her fingers grazing the map where The Western Approach was marked. Cullen offered her an awkward smile in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Tell me you haven’t been here all morning,” she said, mustering her best bravado.

Cullen, his head bowed as he flicked through reports, replied without looking up, “I haven’t been here all morning.”

Juliette’s laugh was a mixture of amusement and challenge. “Now, look at me and tell me again without lying.”

He answered with a soft chuckle, slowly lifting his gaze to meet hers. Guilt spread across his face as he admitted, “Not all morning.” Juliette narrowed her eyes and shot him a playful smirk.

“There is still much to do, however. Perhaps I should have come here earlier.”

“It will be over soon,” she said softly, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

Cullen’s expression fell, his face taking on a crestfallen look. The lines of exhaustion on his face deepened, and his shoulders drooped just a touch, as though the thought of closing the breach meant more than he was letting on.

“There will be plenty more to do moving ahead, Herald,” Cullen spoke quietly, his words laced with a touch of sadness as he busied himself and avoided eye contact.

Juliette caught the subtle shift in Cullen’s expression. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him, her gaze lingering on the signs of discomfort that flickered across his face. As she looked to his eyes she began to wonder when he might have last slept. The dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his complexion spoke of fatigue. He seemed stressed—something not unusual for Cullen—but there was an added layer of unease, a sense that something was different this time.

Juliette wanted to ask if he was alright and offer her support, but the words caught in her throat. She decided it was better not to overstep and chose silence instead. She didn't want to intrude on his personal matters...again. She remembered how uncomfortable he had looked that night in the chantry when she had asked about his vows.

She observed the tightness in Cullen’s posture and the distant look in his eyes. It felt like there was a barrier between them, as though he was unapproachable. She took in a sharp breath, opening her mouth once again, only to let the words die unspoken.

The memory of their conversation in the chantry felt like a different world now, a time when laughter and lightheartedness flowed easily between them. Juliette recalled the moment when she could simply be herself, free from the weight of her title as The Herald of Andraste. The connection they shared seemed so genuine and effortless that night, a stark contrast to the distant and guarded demeanor she saw in Cullen now.

As she watched him , with his walls firmly in place, doubts crept into her mind. She wondered if their night in the chantry had been nothing more than a fleeting dream, a side effect of Adan’s potion distorting her perception. The warmth that had once sparked between them now seemed like a distant memory, obscured by the current coldness.

Juliette was distracted by a wave of uncertainty as she replayed their past interactions in her mind. The connection she had felt seemed so vivid, so real—yet now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it might have been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. She remembered the moment clearly, that fleeting spark that had seemed to pass between them, only for Cullen to retreat soon after. His sudden departure left her feeling disoriented and questioning herself.

She wondered if she had misjudged the situation, perhaps coming across as too eager or intrusive. The lingering doubts made her second-guess whether she had somehow pushed him away. Despite these uncertainties, Juliette held on to the significance of their shared moment. Even if it was brief and ended abruptly, it was a memory that she wasn’t willing to let go of.

She closed her eyes, and with a sigh, fell back on what she knows best - self depreciating humor.

“That’s a shame,” Juliette said with a forced grin. “I was hoping to take a really long nap after I saved the world.”

Cullen’s eyes slowly lifted from their downcast position, a glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. He allowed a small, playful smirk to break through, his eyes reflecting a subtle spark of mischief. “What is it they say? ‘No rest for the wicked’?” he said, his voice carrying a gentle, teasing lilt.

Juliette let out a sudden, high-pitched giggle that echoed through the room. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” she said, her voice laced with playful teasing.

Cullen responded with a soft, breathy chuckle. Before he could speak, they were interrupted by the sound of Chancellor Roderick’s voice booming from behind the door.

“Where is she?” his voice reverberated throughout the chantry, showing his irritation.

“Where is who, Chancellor?” Josephine asked, feigning ignorance.

“Trevelyan! That lying little…”

Cullen waved his hand towards the door with an amused smirk on his face. “As I was saying…”

“Oh, lovely. He’s back already,” Juliette muttered under her breath, her earlier lightheartedness giving way to a resigned sigh.

“I’ll handle it,” Cullen said with a calm, dutiful tone. His smile suggested he was more amused than bothered by the interruption. He stepped out the door and called loudly, “Chancellor! Haven’t you done enough?”

Juliette listened to the bickering unfold from behind the closed door of the war room with a faint giggle, muffled behind her hand.

“Now, now, Chancellor. Let’s be civil,” Josephine chimed in, her voice carrying a slight patronizing edge as she attempted to reason with the irate chancellor.

“I demand an answer, now!” Roderick yelled.

“Do not raise your voice at our Ambassador!” Cullen retorted, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “This is a place of worship.”

Roderick twisted his face in disgust. “Oh, don’t give me that garbage, Templar. You’re running your rebel Inquisition from here, corrupting Thedas under Andraste’s name. You should be ashamed.” He stepped closer to Cullen, his voice rising with urgency. “Now, let me through. I need a word with your so-called ‘Herald’!”

Cullen shook his head and lied, flawlessly, “She’s not here, I haven’t seen her at all today. Perhaps you should try the stables.”

Roderick's eyes narrowed as he took in Cullen's response. His expression shifted from fiery resentment to a cold, calculating suspicion. The crease between his brows deepened, and his lips pressed into a thin line, revealing his doubt.

“Really now?” Roderick said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “The stables, you say?” Roderick shot Josephine a sharp look before returning his gaze to Cullen. “Very well. I’ll check the stables,” he said as he turned on his heel with a brisk, almost exaggerated stride. “If this, too, is more deceit, you’ll be hearing of it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Cullen mumbled as Roderick slammed the chantry door shut with a resounding bang.

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension dissipating into a mix of relief and bemusement. The door to the war room slowly cracked open, revealing Juliette peeking out cautiously with a guilty grin on her face.

“Leliana should hurry herself, we need to get this war council underway before he comes back,” Cullen said, gently pushing past Juliette as he moved back into the war room. She froze, as though a bolt of electricity had shot through her when his gloved hand brushed against her arm.

Cullen, now focused on the scattered reports on the table, barely noticed the effect his touch had on her. “We’ve got work to do,” he said, his tone now practical , as he shifted his attention back to the documents.

Juliette blinked rapidly before shaking herself out of her daze. “Yes, absolutely,” she said, attempting to regain her composure as she followed him into the room. The faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her efforts to appear poised.

The breach thundered and boomed far louder at the temple ruins, its noise competing against the howl of strong winds and the sickening song of the red lyrium crystals. The sky above was a tumultuous swirl of colour that seemed to mirror the chaos below.

Cullen looked down from the terrace by the temple entrance, or what was left of it. While his men assembled below as instructed, he watched with unease as debris and broken remnants of the temple’s structure floated in the air, suspended by the will of the lyrium’s force. He slowly glanced up to the sky, squinting at the light that shone down from above. Much like the breach, Cullen’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of a mess.

Grand Enchanter Fiona led the mages into position, each group lining up along the crumbling parapets of the temple at various elevations. The explosion months earlier had left parts of the building exposed, in such a way that the structure now resembled an amphitheater.

The noise of the gathering crowd grew louder as more people arrived to fulfill their duties. All these people. If something were to go wrong...

Will the mages have sufficient control over their magic? What if the power overloads? Could it overwhelm her? What if—

Cullen’s thoughts splintered like broken glass, each shard a new worry. The crowd around him seemed to move in slow motion, their faces blurring into a backdrop of anxious noise. I should have asked her if she was ready. If she was feeling alright about all of this.

An officer stepped into his field of vision and greeted Cullen with a dutiful “Commander.”

Cullen flinched at the unexpected interruption, then forced a nod of acknowledgment as his men marched past, heading to their designated positions within the temple. He shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts, but the pressure in his mind felt like a vice tightening with every passing moment.

Not that it would matter if she was ready. It has to happen now.

He stepped closer to the edge of the terrace, peering down at the rows of soldiers below. They stood in precise lines, their uniforms immaculate and their postures rigid. They look impressive, Cullen thought, his eyes scanning the disciplined ranks. Harritt’s done an excellent job commissioning those weapons. The soldiers’ readiness seemed to contrast with the turmoil in Cullen’s mind.

But is it enough? Have I overlooked something? Are they truly prepared for what’s coming? They’ve yet to face demons. What else could escape that thing? How much power will it take to close - but what does she mean ‘It will be over soon’? There’s so much more we could — argh, that red lyrium!

Heat radiated from the lyrium crystals embedded in the walls at the entrance where Cullen stood waiting. The noise, a rhythmic, pulsing song, vibrated through his body like a heartbeat or a war drum, trying to exert its will over him. He took a few steps back, suddenly aware of the dryness in his mouth and the aches in his shoulders and legs.

Perhaps I should have said something earlier today. Did I seem too cold? I likely did. I’d hate for her to think that I wasn’t interested in speaking with her. I should have … what are they doing? Those will break!

“You there!” Cullen shouted over the howling wind, his voice barely cutting through the storm. He squinted against the stinging snow that lashed his face, the fur coat that sat atop his shoulders flapping wildly in the gale. Striding towards the nearby officer, he pointed urgently at the healers struggling with supplies down the stairs on the opposite side of the temple.

“Tell those healers to use both hands when carrying the crates, or better yet, send some men to assist them. We can not afford to damage the supplies at a time like this!”

“At your order,” the officer said with a fist raised to his chest.

Cullen folded his arms and looked to the sky once more. Every swirl of green light and thunderous crack that boomed above felt like a grain of sand slipping through an hourglass, each moment amplifying his anxious anticipation for The Herald’s arrival.

I should have asked her if she was ready. I never asked. Is she feeling alright? She must be nervous.

A sudden jolt of pain seared through Cullen’s head, as though a sharp, electrifying bolt had pierced his skull. A wave of excruciating pain surged through him, immediate and overwhelming, making him clutch at his temples. Determined not to let the routine headaches blur his focus, he fixed his gaze to the mages as they waited patiently for the ritual to begin.

That lyrium. The first thing we need to do is clear it out once this is …why did she say ‘It will be over soon’? Surely she cannot be thinking about leaving. Not now, not after —

Cullen’s eyes widened with alarm when he spotted someone veering off course. “Stop!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “You’re going the wrong way! It’s not structurally sound—you must use the western staircase! Has your lieutenant not informed you?” His gaze was fierce, reflecting his frustration and urgency as he tried to correct the mistake before it could lead to disaster. He shook his head in disbelief.

I asked them to barricade that exit. What else could they have neglected? I should go down there, make sure everything’s in order before she arrives… No, I must wait for her. I need to talk to her—set things right. I’m distracted. I can’t let this, her, cloud my judgment. I can’t fail them. I must give—

Cullen’s thoughts abruptly halted as he caught sight of Juliette approaching the temple’s entrance. His gaze snapped toward her, and for a heartbeat, everything else seemed to fade away. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes locked onto her with an intensity that momentarily silenced the tumult in his mind.

With Cassandra by her side and Solas trailing close behind, The Herald laughed as a gust of wind swept in, embracing her with its wild energy. Her hair flew in a chaotic dance, and the fabric of her coat billowed around her. Reacting swiftly, she reached up to secure the scarf that had been draped loosely over her shoulders, her fingers gripping it tightly to prevent it from being whisked away by the gust. The scarf was green, the same hue as the fabric worn by the soldiers in their uniform. It was a vivid reminder of her role within The Inquisition.

She chose to wear that today. What could that mean?

Cullen’s stance softened, and a flicker of something—hope, anxiety, or perhaps a mixture of both—crossed his features. The stern lines of his face softened, if only for a moment, as he prepared himself to address her, his focus now solely on the figure that had captured his full attention.

“Herald,” he greeted with a firm, formal voice, his posture now rigid, with his arms folded across his chest.

As she stepped closer, he noticed the worried expression on her face. Her dark brown eyes gazed into his, revealing vulnerability and nerves that momentarily disarmed him. Cassandra, standing by her side, tapped her arm with two quick, successive taps—a silent gesture of acknowledgment, signaling their readiness to move forward without further words. With that, Cassandra and Solas began to descend the stairs, leaving Juliette behind to speak with The Commander.

As the wild wind roared around them, Juliette’s lopsided smile quickly gave way to a look of frustration, her face partially hidden by the billowing strands of her hair and the scarf she struggled to keep in place. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she squinted against the force of the wind, her attempts to shield her eyes and maintain her composure evident.

Cullen's features tightened as the wind whipped around him, the gusts pressing against his stern expression. “Are you alright? You look—” he began, but his words were swallowed by the howl of the wind. He grimaced as the wind tugged at his coat and hair, making it difficult to keep his posture steady.

“Pardon?” Juliette yelled, her voice nearly lost in the roar of the gusts. “I didn’t hear you!”

She quickly moved in closer to him, and he slightly lowered his head to make himself heard above the wind. “Are you feeling alright—”

Before he could finish, another strong gust swept Juliette’s scarf from her shoulders, causing her to release a surprised squeak. Instinctively, Cullen lunged forward, his quick reflexes allowing him to catch the scarf mid-air.

He took a moment to steady himself before turning back to Juliette, his expression softening despite the harsh conditions. He extended the scarf toward her, their hands brushing briefly as she reached for it.

The touch was brief but electric. Juliette's fingers lingered against his for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something deeper—an emotion she had been trying to keep hidden. Her heart skipped a beat as she met his gaze, feeling a swirl of unspoken attraction and vulnerability.

Cullen’s own eyes held a fleeting softness, a stark contrast to his usual stern demeanor. He noticed the tremor in her touch and, without thinking, placed his gloved hand over Juliette’s, as though to ensure her grip on the scarf was extra secure.

Juliette’s cheeks flushed deeply, a vivid contrast to the chill of the wind. She looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and fascination. The contact, though muted by the gloves, was still electric, sending a rush of heat through her. She quickly withdrew her hand, her heart racing as she fumbled to adjust the scarf around her neck. Even amidst the wind’s chaos and the surrounding noise, the moment they shared felt oddly quiet and serene.

Cullen stepped back and moved around the corner of the entrance, finding a small nook that offered some shelter from the wind. He drew in a deep breath, his pulse racing from the lingering of Juliette’s touch. She followed him, her gaze expectant, waiting for him to break the silence. Deciding to avoid the awkwardness of asking about her a third time, Cullen pressed forward with the conversation.

“The best of the mages are ready, Herald. Be certain that you are ready for the assault on the breach. We cannot know how you will be affected.”

“Well, that’s not exactly the reassurance I was hoping for, Cullen,” she said with a nervous laugh, glancing down at her hand. The glow from the mark was erratic, flashing and pulsating as she neared the breach. Cullen followed her gaze, their eyes meeting again. He offered her a soft, sympathetic look. “Am I shaking?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling. “I’m shaking.” She exhaled deeply, the breath coming out in an exaggerated puff as she turned away from him. “Let’s do this before I change my mind,” she said with newfound determination.

As she moved towards the stairs, the wind hit her with a fierce gust, making her cry out in surprise. “This weather!” She glanced back at Cullen with a faint smile. “Looking forward to clear skies and warmer climates.”

“Good luck, Herald,” He shouted.

“Thank you, Commander!” she called back, her voice just barely reaching his ears as she descended the stairs.

Cullen stood at the top of the stairs, his gaze lingering on the spot where Juliette had vanished. A heavy, disheartening weight settled on his chest as he watched her disappear from view.

So she is leaving.

#dear commander #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen dragon age #cullen x trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen romance #dragon age fanfiction #cullen fanfic #dragon age fic #dai fanfic

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when-jaguars-are-sick · 3 months ago

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Augusnippets Day 8: Found Family - Colin

This fic is set a little later in the timeline, once Rowyn's a bit more confident of his place in the group, and his and Colin's relationship.

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By the time Charlie’s pressing “play” on the night’s movie, Rowyn’s sure that something’s wrong with Colin.

He can tell, in the subtle ways that Colin shows his distress, subtle enough that no one else has noticed. Rowyn, however, is so attuned to Colin’s body language that he immediately noticed something was wrong. To him, it’s clear, seen in the way that Colin is ever-so-slightly less exuberant tonight in his storytelling, in the way that his face settles into a frown the moment he thinks no one is watching, in the way that his hands momentarily clench into fists.

Upon noticing these things, Rowyn remembers the last time he knew someone that deeply. It’s a bittersweet thing, he thinks, as he reflects on the two people that he used to know better than himself. He might not even recognize them, if he saw them today. And that thought almost breaks his heart, but he forces himself to remember why he had to leave, and he turns his attention back to the person he’s currently worried about.

After half an hour of watching the movie, Rowyn is officially concerned. Glancing around him, he realizes he’s not the only one who’s noticed Colin’s restless shifting; Max looks at Rowyn, raising their eyebrows and nodding at Colin, their question clear. Rowyn shrugs in response, looking back at his boyfriend.

He wraps an arm around Colin’s shoulders and pulls him closer in a snuggle, so he can discreetly whisper in his ear, What’s wrong?

He gets a vague shrug in reply, and he frowns, his focus turning back to the movie, even as he resolves to keep an eye on Colin.

Throughout all of this, Charlie remains fixated on the storyline of the movie, as enthusiastic of a viewer as normal. Jamie however, is oblivious to the situation entirely, enjoying Keegan’s presence next to him, and watching the movie while his mind wanders slightly.

As the movie progresses, Colin slumps more fully against Rowyn, who glances at him every few seconds, his lack of commentary the most telling sign that something’s wrong.

When Colin suddenly squirms against him, Rowyn’s head snaps over to look at him, Max now carefully watching them as well.

Rowyn watches as Colin’s face drains of any colour, leaving it a sickly white in the light from the movie. He sees Colin’s Adam's apple bobbing, as he swallows rapidly, his mind running a mile a minute connecting all the clues.

He and Max both understand what’s happening at the same time, but just a second too late. At that moment, Colin lets up the softest, airiest burp, really it’s just a puff of air. This precedes a large burst of vomit that splatters onto his lap and the ground in front of him. He gags again, but nothing more comes up.

When he closes his eyes for a moment, hands clenching again, Rowyn gently touches his arm, causing him to jump and turn towards Rowyn, eyes wide with vulnerability, puke still on his chin.

Rowyn goes to stand up to grab some supplies, and Max stops him, muttering “I’ve got it, you stay with him.”

Rowyn takes a moment to observe the state of the room. Max had vacated their spot, and left the room, but everyone else was still there. Charlie, from her movie-watching spot on the floor, had frozen, trembling with the barest hint of a shiver, her eyes wide and staring. Crouched in front of her was Jamie, with one hand on her shoulder, and the other running soothingly through her hair while also keeping her eyes averted from Colin. Keegan is sitting stiffly on the couch, alternating between watching Jamie and Colin, obviously not sure how he can help, until Jamie gets his attention. Someone paused the movie, but Rowyn doesn't know who or when.

“Ro… gonna happ’n ‘gain,” Colin mumbles, and Rowyn reaches up to push his orange hair back from his face, bracing Colin against him.

Just as Colin leans forward with another heave, Max hurries back into the room with an armful of items that they let clatter to the floor as they plop a bowl on Colin’s lap into which splatters the remains of Colin’s dinner, now partially digested.

Max groans, turning away as their own stomach twists at the sight, instead gathering up the supplies they had collected from where they had fallen to the floor.

After a minute of throwing up, this second wave lasting longer than the first, Colin appears empty, heaving dryly over the bowl.

Rowyn rubs his back in big circles, encouraging him to take deep breaths until the heaves taper off and Colin is left drained and slumping back into the cushions.

Glancing around the room once more, Rowyn sees Charlie and Jamie in a very similar position, if a bit more frantic. Keegan, however, is now crouched down with Jamie in front of Charlie, well versed in what debilitating panic feels like, trying to calm Charlie down.

The floor and Colin himself are both still covered in vomit, so Rowyn starts to nudge his boyfriend before the adrenaline wears off, pulling him upright, and ushering him towards the bathroom.

After settling Colin in bed, Rowyn leaves him with a kiss before going back into the hallway where he hears voices. He peaks into Charlie’s room, to see Jamie and Charlie curled up on her bed, in a tight embrace. Jamie catches his eye, and winks at him, which is enough to reassure Rowyn that Jamie has the situation under control.

So he makes his way to the living room to start cleaning the mess, only to find Keegan and Max working on it already.

Upon returning to their room, he finds Colin, surprisingly, still awake. Rowyn rolls his eyes when Colin makes grabby hands towards his boyfriend, pouting dramatically until Rowyn climbs in bed with him.

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, Colin asks “Whatcha thinkin about?”

“Just how lucky I am to have met all of you. And how thankful I am that you brought me into this group. I’m just kind of realizing tonight how it really feels like you guys are my family, if that makes sense? I mean, I gave up on my family a long time ago, but I think this is what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Colin smiles at the sentiment, looking half-asleep, and snuggles closer.

#colin piercey #my writing #emeto #emetophilia #augusnippets day 8 #augusnippets 2024 #sickfic

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forhappysake · 1 year ago

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What Lurks Within, Pt. 7

Author's Note: Things are starting to unravel, I hope everyone is buckled up!

Content: When Matt, Spencer, and Y/N decide to interview the police chief's wife, Lucia, they learn more than they ever could have bargained for. The team draws conclusions about who has been tampering with Whittendon's reports, and the walls start to close in around Chief Graydon.

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff if you squint, a coffee-related burn, heavy talk of domestic abuse (both physical and psychological)

We walked out into the main office, searching for Rossi’s shock of gray hair in the sea of workers. “Do you see him?” I asked Matt, who stood at least a head taller than I. I saw him scan the cubicles.

“Not in here…” he continued to scan the office. It was then I noticed that Police Chief Graydon’s door was ajar.

“Matt,” I said, pointing in the direction of the office. He noticed the door as well. He led me across the office and brought us to a stop outside the doorway. We stood for a moment, trying to hear the conversation inside.

Rossi’s voice drifted out of the office. “Chief, you’ve got to level with me here. My team is here to help you.”

“Agent Rossi, that’s all well and good, but I didn’t ask for your help,” Graydon said. I looked at Matt, who raised an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re here now. We’re not going anywhere until this case is closed. You can either be a part of the solution or a part of the problem.” Rossi’s voice moved around the room, as if he was walking back and forth. Suddenly, the office door swung open and Rossi stepped out into the main office, almost running into Matt and I.

Rossi grabbed both of our arms, dragging us back to the conference room and shutting the door firmly behind him. “Has anyone ever told you not to eavesdrop?” he asked.

Matt and I looked at each other before looking back at Rossi. I felt a mischievous smile tug at my lips. “Not really,” I said. Rossi sighed, leaning back against a shelf on the opposite side of the room. “What was going on in there?” I asked.

“Something’s up with that guy,” Rossi said, gesturing towards the police chief’s office. “I’ve been working with police chiefs for fifty years, and have never met one that was so uncooperative or ungrateful for our presence.”

JJ looked to Matt and I, waiting for us to fill Rossi in on our newest discoveries. “Well,” I started, “he probably isn’t very happy we’re here considering what Matt and I have just found in Garcia’s compilation of files about each of his children.”

“Ah,” Rossi said, moving from his standing position to get comfortable in an office chair. “Do tell.” I quickly opened my tablet and showed Rossi the hospital admission records for Phillip Graydon. He scanned the files, nodding as he reached the end of the record.

“So, have we been able to track down this kid? I’d like to know what he has to say about his father.” Rossi handed my tablet back to me, looking at Matt and I expectantly.

I shook my head. “Not yet. Matt and I were actually coming to ask if we could try talking to Graydon’s wife, Lucia. His file says she opened a domestic case against him years ago, but the charges were dropped. I’d like to see if we could get her to tell us more.”

Rossi thought for a moment, eyes flickering between Matt and I. He nodded, “Sure. Just try to keep it subtle. If she realizes we’re poking around too much, she could tip him off.”

“Understood, boss,” Matt said. “Y/N, is Graydon’s address in that file?” I reached across the table for the paper copy of Graydon’s file that Matt had brought in earlier.

“It is,” I said. Spencer and JJ stood in the corner of the room, watching the interaction from their position in front of the map on the wall. Little red pins dotted each spot where a victim had been found, creating a wide circle around a large span of neighborhoods.

Matt spoke, jolting me from my thoughts. “I guess we’re ready to go then,” Matt said. Just as we turned to leave the conference room, Spencer cleared his throat. Matt and I stopped to look at him. Spencer stared at the ground and offered a small shrug, “Maybe I should go with you two… just in case.”

I turned to Rossi who thought this over for a moment. “Are you sure its a ‘just-in-case’ thing or ‘my-girlfriend-is-going-so-I-am-too’ thing?” Rossi joked.

Spencer turned a light shade of pink, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’d just like to go along,” Spencer said defensively.

“I’m messing with you. Go ahead, kid,” Rossi said, turning in his chair to wack Spencer on the knee. “Keep her out of trouble.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “I don’t need any help doing that, thank you!” I shouted as we made our way out of the conference room, Spencer in tow.

As Matt climbed in the driver’s seat with Spencer sliding in across from him, I dragged myself into the back of the SUV. The familiar stinging of the burn on my thigh had settled into a dull pain since earlier this morning. I lifted the hem of my skirt to examine the burn once more. As I did, Spencer turned to look at me.

“Y/N, are you sure you don’t want to put anything on that?” he asked gently. I shook my head, dropping my skirt back down and offering him a small smile. He sighed and turned back towards the front windshield as we took off from the precinct.

Matt raised an eyebrow, “What’d she do to herself this time?” This time. I was never known for being overly graceful. I once fell off a step stool in the kitchen back in the D.C. office. Another time, I spilled chardonnay all over my new dress at Rossi’s house. I sighed, looking out the window and expecting Spencer to answer.

Spencer groaned. “She didn’t do anything to herself. I spilled a pot of fresh coffee on her this morning and burned her leg.”

“Well, Spencer, that wasn’t very nice,” Matt joked, elbowing him across the console.

“It was an accident, of course… and I would feel a lot better if she’d let me do something about it.” He gave me a concerned look in the rearview mirror, to which I held up my hands in innocence.

“We’ve got bigger fish to fry, babe. Speaking of which, how far is it to the Graydon family’s house?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Matt looked down from the road to glance at the map on the SUV’s dash, “I’d say ten minutes, roughly.”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me from my position in the back seat. The car ride was relatively silent. After a couple more minutes, Matt pulled the SUV to a stop in front of a large brick home. I looked the house over, examining the carefully painted shutters and well-trimmed hedges. The picture of a perfect family, I thought, who knew what all went on inside this house.

“Okay,” Matt spoke first, “what’s the plan of action?” He looked first to Spencer and then glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I shrugged, gesturing to Spencer and awaiting his answer. Spencer bit his lip as he thought and narrowed his eyes at the house in front of him.

“If she’s been abused, I doubt she’ll be forthcoming with us,” Spencer said, nodding in Matt’s direction. “Y/N, you’ll probably have to get the most information out of her. We’ll just handle introductions and ask a few baseline questions.”

“Sounds good,” I said. Matt nodded from the driver’s seat.

“Are we ready?” Matt asked. Without a verbal response, we opened our doors and stepped out onto the suburban street. Spencer approached the door first, wrapping his knuckles on the wood quickly before stepping back in line with Matt and I. I could hear shuffling from inside the house and a clicking sound as the deadbolt came unlocked.

A middle-aged woman with short blonde hair and tired eyes opened the door. She seemed decidedly confused. “Can I help you?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

Matt reached into his pocket and removed his badge, presenting it to Lucia. “I’m Agent Matt Simmons with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. This is Agent Y/N L/N and Dr. Spencer Reid. We’d like to talk to ask you some quick questions about your husband, Jonathan Graydon, and his work with the Denver P.D.”

Lucia shifted nervously on her feet, crossing her arms over her thin frame and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure I’m the one you should be talking to. I’m sure Jon would be more than happy to talk with you…” Her eyes were planted firmly on the ground in front of us.

“I think you could provide us with some useful information, ma’am,” Matt said. Lucia sighed, running a worried hand through her hair.

“Alright, come in. You can’t stay long,” she forewarned.

Matt nodded. “We won’t need long,” he reassured. Lucia stepped back from the doorway, allowing the three of us to enter the home. I scanned the entryway. Family photos dotted the walls. I saw images of a young boy and girl, who I presumed to be Mira and Phillip. I watched Spencer canvas the room, taking in anything that may have been out of place. Thank God for eidetic memory.

“You can sit here,” Lucia said, drawing my attention away from the photographs on the walls. She gestured to a couch and an armchair situated in the corner of a living room next to the entryway. Matt sat down in the arm chair, leaving Spencer and I to sit on the leather couch. Lucia sat down on the edge of a wooden rocking chair on the other side of the room, folding her hands in her lap and teetering the chair back and forth. The deep blue of the walls contrasted with her pale skin, and I felt a pang of sadness for the broken woman before us.

Spencer cleared his throat. “You have a lovely home,” he said kindly. He was always so gentle, so thoughtful. Lucia offered him a polite smile, but anxiety shone through her light-blue eyes.

“So,” Matt said, bringing an end to the pleasantries, “we’re here to talk about your husband.”

Lucia visibly tensed at the statement, shifting in the wooden rocker. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“In 2004, you filed a domestic case against your husband and the charges were dropped shortly after. Could you explain what happened?” Matt asked.

Lucia locked her eyes on the ground again. Her folded hands began to twitch in her lap. “Johnathan and I had a bit of a misunderstanding. I’m afraid that I overreacted. Once I realized what I’d done, I dropped the charges.” I looked to Spencer, who returned my gaze. I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was: This statement has been well-rehearsed.

Matt nodded, displaying a faux understanding of her situation. “I see,” he said, “I’d like to show a file I brought along…” Matt rose from the chair, causing Lucia to flinch and cower against the wooden back of the rocker. Spencer noticed as quickly as I did, his face contorting in a grimace at the poor woman’s fear.

Matt also noticed her reaction to his sudden movement and slowed his movements. He lowered himself back down into the chair. The silence that had fallen over the room was more than uncomfortable, and I decided it was my turn to take over.

“Mrs. Graydon,” I said, “If you’d rather, I’d be more than happy to talk with you in private while these two wait in another room.” Lucia slowly peeled herself off the back of the wooden chair. She bit at her lip before offering a frantic nod.

“Yes,” she mumbled. “Agent Y/N, you can come with me down the hall to the office.” She rose from her chair without another glance at Matt and Spencer and began making her way down the hallway. I shot up from the couch and followed her, leaving the boys behind in the living room.

Lucia led me down a hallway to an open doorway, which she entered to reveal a lavish office. The wooden shelves were stacked with several novels. An oak desk was planted in the middle of the room with a leather desk chair pushed in behind. Despite the office’s impressive appearance, papers littered the top of the desk and crumpled trash overflowed the small trash can next to the leather desk chair.

“Is this your office?” I asked her gently.

She nodded. “Jon and I share it. I just use it more often… for my writing… I write,” she shrugged and flipped her hands around nervously as she talked. I could tell she was trying to distract from her previous reaction to Matt’s movements, and from the evident tears that had welled up in her eyes.

I nodded empathetically. “Mrs. Graydon-”

“Lucia,” she cut me off. Her voice cutting through my statement seemed to startle her as much as it did me. She paused for a moment before she cleared her throat and spoke again, “You can call me Lucia.”

“Lucia,” I began again, “I was looking at some files about your family this morning. There seems to be a history of… conflict… in this house.” Lucia met my eyes as a look of defeat crossed her face. A facade she’d been building for years had come crashing down in a matter of seconds when a few strangers walked in the door. Who could blame her for being upset?

She sighed. “I’m afraid you’re not wrong. This hasn’t always been the happy home I’ve been so desperate to make it out to be.”

I nodded again, formulating my next question. “Why don’t you tell me why you really dropped the case against your husband?”

Lucia turned from me as she began pacing the room. I could see the gears turning in her mind. “After all these years, who knew that today would be the day I’d have to say it out loud.” She laughed bitterly, looking up at the ceiling before coming to stand in front of me again. “My husband and I got into an argument, as we had many times before. Only this time it was… it was different.” She spoke with her hands again, flailing them around her head in a frenzy as she spoke.

“How was this fight different?” I asked, needing more information from her.

“Jon has always been a… a physical fighter. That night - back in 2004 - was the first time he ever got our children involved.” She shuddered, recalling the memory. “He’d hit me again the night before. I told him I’d finally got the guts to hire a lawyer and take his ass to court… He didn’t like that.”

She trailed off as she shook her head frantically. “He told me that if I went through with it, that he would hurt Phil or Mira.”

“So you dropped the charges?” I asked.

“Yes, but-” she dropped her face into her hands, pacing around the room once more.

I spoke, “But he hurt Phillip anyway, didn’t he?” She paused, turning to me with tears in her eyes. “Jonathan broke Phillip’s arm, right?” I asked. I didn’t wait for her reply, continuing with my train of thought. “Later he broke his foot, he burned him, then he-”

Lucia burst into sobs. “Yes, he did it. He did all of it.” She cried into her hands as she stood in the middle of the office. I wanted to comfort her in some way, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to reach out to her.

“Lucia,” I spoke again, in a voice that was much quieter this time. “Do you know where your children are now?”

She nearly choked on her own sob, throwing her hands up in the air. “Why would I? Jon ruined our family. My daughter’s been in and out of rehab for years and my son-” she cried out once more, her face red. I found myself wondering if Spencer and Matt could hear everything that was going on.

“Lucia,” I said again, more sternly this time, “where are Phillip and Mira?”

She began shaking her head fervently again, brushing her hair out of her face and wiping her tears away. “I’m telling you, I truly don’t know. Jon doesn’t know. He wouldn’t let me see them even if he did know.” Something in the desperation of her voice made me believe her, and I decided that I had gotten enough information from her.

“Okay. I believe you,” I said. Lucia seemed to calm a bit with my statement of confidence.

She took a few more deep breaths and we stood quietly in the office. “I presume you’re ready to go,” she said.

I nodded. “I think we’ve put you through enough. I am so sorry for everything that’s happened to your family. I will personally be in touch to check up.”

Lucia shook her head as she turned from me, starting back down the hallway towards the living room. She paused just outside the room in an area where the boys couldn’t see us. She spoke in a hushed voice, “Don’t try to contact me by phone. Jon listens. If you find out where my children are, please come back and see me during the day while he’s at the office.”

“Of course,” I whispered. She looked me up and down for a moment. Deciding my promise was good, she rounded the corner and returned us to the living room. Spencer and Matt sat perched in their same positions.

“We can go,” I said as I remained planted in the entryway. Lucia lowered herself back down on the edge of the wooden rocker. “We’ll see ourselves out, Lucia. Thank you for your help.” She leaned back and quietly nodded, accepting the opportunity to decompress after her emotional outburst.

Spencer and Matt rose from their seats. They each thanked Lucia before we showed ourselves out of the house and entered back onto the street. We climbed back into our respective spots in the SUV before Matt fired up the engine.

Directions to the precinct appeared on the SUV’s screen as the radio started playing and the heat kicked on. Matt leaned forward, turning off the radio, before he turned to face me in the back seat. “What the hell happened in there?” he asked.

“Could you guys hear her crying? I felt terrible,” I mumbled. Spencer and Matt nodded.

Matt spoke again, “Yeah, we could hear her. I thought we were going to have to call an ambulance. What did she tell you?”

I buckled my seatbelt, leaning against the backseat. “You drive, I’ll talk,” I said. Matt nodded, shifting the SUV into drive as Spencer buckled his seatbelt. As we drove back to the precinct, I explained everything Lucia had told me: the threats, the domestic abuse, how Phillip was used as Graydon’s personal pawn.

As I spoke, I could see Matt’s grip on the steering wheel growing tighter by the second. If anyone loved kids, it was Matt Simmons. I finished my spiel as we arrived in the parking lot. By the way he was shifting in the driver's seat, I thought Matt was going to walk in the office and beat Graydon himself.

“He’s disgusting,” Matt mumbled, flexing his grip on the steering wheel again.

Spencer spoke for the first time since leaving the residence. “It’s horrible. It is. But, we can’t let on that we know about it. We can’t just march in there and arrest him for an abuse case from fifteen years ago.”

“What about the most recent offense?” Matt asked. “The records said Phillip had been in the hospital only last year for suspicious injuries. Can’t we do something about that?”

Spencer shook his head, “Not until we know if this has something to do with what’s going on in this precinct. If we try to bring up his children, Graydon will send us back to D.C. and we’ll have to try to collect evidence from afar.”

“I agree with Spencer,” I said. “I don’t know why, but I can’t shake the feeling that all of this is connected. I think we should keep looking for Phillip Graydon.”

Spencer nodded as Matt loosened his grip on the steering wheel. “Fine,” he said, “but don’t think I won’t haul off and beat his ass the second that-”

“Yeah, yeah. We get it,” I said, waving my hand. “Let’s get inside and fill everyone else in.” We exited the SUV and walked into the warmth of the precinct. Workers busied themselves at their desks as we made our way to the conference room again.

I saw Emily’s red blouse through the window. “They must be back from the newest crime scene,” I thought aloud. As we entered the conference room, Emily posted new pictures of the latest victim on the board.

“Shut the door, seal the blinds” Emily instructed Matt, who did so without question. “Sit,” she ordered. We all huddled around the conference room table. Spencer’s hands fidgeted nervously. JJ gnawed on the inside of her lip as Luke thumped his fingers against the table’s surface. Tensions were visibly high.

“Here’s what I’ve learned this morning,” she started, leaning forward and pressing her arms into the table. “There are only three people in this office who have had unrestricted access to Whittendon’s files. Whittendon, Richie, and Chief Graydon.” All movements ceased at that moment, the stillness and silence in the room was thick with anticipation.

She waited for any responses. When it was clear none of us were planning to interject, she spoke again. “As of right now, Chief Graydon is our prime suspect for the file tampering.”

To be continued...

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heartbreakgrill · 1 year ago

Text

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 2- "You're in my head..."

The beginning two weeks on tour were spent in the city of London, which I easily grewattached to. For the first handful of days, I fell into a comfortable routine of simplicity- I’d wake with Sam, have breakfast in the hotel with the rest of the band (avoid Oliver); set my sights on a few attractions; spend time in Hyde Park, catching up on my reading list; then return to the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner with Sam and the band. Most often, Oliver wasn’t there for those evening meals, said to be off somewhere, writing music, or having a smoke (thank God). I didn’t see him much outside of those breakfasts considering I was always off doing something and he had rehearsals. And I honestly liked it that way.

During the first two weeks in London, I tried to be nice to Oliver. I’d greet him every day at breakfast with a kind smile, a gentle, “Good morning, Oliver.” And he’d just ignore me. None of the others really considered it, or else I think they’d have said something to him. It was subtle enough that I could only ruminate over it in silence.

But, boy, did I notice the shitty behavior he exhibited towards me, that when I’d laugh too loudly at Max’s jokes or start up a conversation- breathe, basically- Oliver’s shoulders would tense. He’d sigh, just soft enough that I could hear it across the table. And, he’d become distant from the group, eyes glazed over, silent. If someone- other than me- said something to him, he’d respond. But, God forbid he say anything on his own accord.

From what I gathered, he had gotten to know me and, I guess, he just didn’t like me. Why he had covered up the time we had spent together on the roof, I did not know. Why he felt the need to completely ignore me- I really just didn’t understand it. And I didn’t think I wanted to. I was having the time of my life, catching matinees on the West End, spending time in the Natural History Museum, riding the London Eye. I wasn’t going to play cat and mouse or sparring enemies during this time in my life.

Usually, at least, back home, I was always too nervous to go out by myself, afraid I’d see family friends or exes I was trying to avoid. Here, I didn’t have to worry about that. I was a whole new person- a whole new woman. I could go anywhere, do anything, be whoever I wanted. Sure, it was lonely sometimes, shopping or discovering new coffee shops all by myself. But, it was healing, too. I was learning to enjoy my own company.

At the beginning of the second week, however, I had run out of things to do. Due to my newfound luck, rehearsals had ended for the band Saturday, and they had the week off- save for Friday, when they’d perform, and the weekend, when we’d be heading up to Newcastle for the next show. But for now, Sam had an open schedule.

We toured the city together for a few days, spending more time together in those short hours than we had in nearly five years. We had a pretty close relationship, but due to our conflicting schedules and busy lives, it was rare that we found space to be with each other like this. It was cathartic- catching late lunches together, touring museums, art galleries, tourist attractions. Mom would’ve really loved to be there with us, in such a dream city, and I know we both held that thought close to our hearts for the entire week.

I didn’t attend their concert that weekend, involved with my own plans. I wanted to come see them perform at some point, but I almost wanted to spite Oliver by not going, too. It was, after all, his band, his music. So, instead, I planned on going to a local dive bar that was holding an open mic night. In such a vast, diverse city, I was sure to find fun there.

That morning, though, at breakfast, I almost changed my plans.

I sat down beside Sam, a plate of toast and eggs in my hands. Max looked up from his phone, where he had been texting someone, and grinned at me, “Morning, lovely. Sleep okay?’’

I nodded appreciatively, “I’ve gotten used to the time change already.”

“Just wait,” Sam stabbed at his stack of pancakes. “Italy is in a week. It’ll fuck you up again.”

“Oh, it’s worth it. I’ve gotten to do so much these past two weeks. It’s insane.”

Cy took a sip of his coffee before adding in, “Oh, to see London through the eyes of a tourist. I’m sure it’s nothing short of magical.”

“Gonna have a hard time leaving, that’s for sure,” I bit off a piece of toast as I replied.

Oliver and Adam joined us now, Adam rattling off some guitar notes to the singer. Their conversation was just background noise to ours, as Sam then spoke to me, brushing his hands free of crumbs from his toast, “Listen, I have your stage pass in my bag. You have to wear it to get into the venue or go backstage, okay? Don’t lose it. I won’t be able to check my phone much today, so I can’t help you out if you do.”

I looked up from my plate, a guilty frown settling into my face, “Oh. Um…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m gonna go tonight.”

Everyone turned their attention to me fully, even Oliver, though he seemed to look past my head, avoiding my eyes. Their expressions weren’t necessarily confused, but wondorous, curiously surprised by my declaration.

“You’re not coming?” Max asked, his tone a bit hurt.

I shrugged slowly, “I’m so sorry. I had plans to go out. But, I can- I can always change them-?”

“No, don’t do that,” Cyrus waved me off, defending my choice, “you’re allowed to do your own thing. You’re not obligated to come see us.”

“I mean, I will…eventually. I just…there’s so much I wanna do, ya know?” I stuttered a bit, my face flushed from my guilt. I knew they weren’t mad, but I felt like I was letting them down.

Max pouted as he crossed his arms, “So, we’re just not as important, love? I see how it is. Here I thought we had something special.”

“I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll come to a show sometime. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedu-” I chuckled slightly through my words to make the point that I was being sarcastic. But, then, someone interrupted me.

Everyone glanced at Oliver as he stood, chair scraping against the ground. He was pulling a cigarette from an emptying pack, balancing it between his lips. Then, he walked, so quickly, yet so casually, away from our table, towards the exit.

“Even Ollie’s hurt,” Max pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

Funny thing is, I don’t think Max was too far off with his observation. Why else had Oliver stormed off like a child, leaving a full plate of food where he had been sitting?

Our first travel day was hectic. We had to wake up, bright and early Saturday morning, in order to board the tour buses waiting outside of the hotel. I was a little nervous to spend the next two days inside of the vehicle, eating, sleeping, and basically living within its confines.

But then it came easy. I slept in late, finding my bunk to be a lot more comfortable than it looked. Cy had joined our bus for that first morning, he and Sam working on some drum rhythm for a new song, or something of the sort. On our bus, too, was Ronnie, Sam’s close friend- he insisted- the band’s tour manager, whom I was growing to love.

She was all tattoos, colored hair, and bad-ass energy. She swore like a sailor, said whatever came to mind, and treated the boys like stupid little teenagers. I loved it. I found myself giggling at everything she said, especially when the boys would be too loud at a gas station, and she’d scold them. Whenever Oliver would grace us with his presence on these outings, he’d glare at my laughter, as per usual.

Anyways, I think I was a difficult pill for Ronnie to swallow at first, being so feminine in comparison to her more masculine demeanor. But, we began to really bond that first afternoon on the bus.

While Cy and Sam occupied the back room, drum pads rattling beneath their sticks, Ronnie and I took up the couches towards the front of the bus. I had just gone out for a cup of tea, hoping it would wake me up and encourage me to read or something. Instead, I ended up playing countless rounds of Mario Kart with Ronnie. I was never really into video games, but playing with her was so fun, and we just couldn’t stop. She teased me for being such an amateur, for choosing Princess Peach when she played as Bowser.

But, then we got to talking- about my favorite Taylor Swift songs, ex-boyfriends, childhood trauma. She was wise beyond her years and a comforting, womanly presence to have.

“Sam told me a little bit, but I never got the full picture. What are you going to school for?”

I glanced over at her, nearly crashing my kart because of the sharp corner I had to cut. “Oh, yeah, um…counseling. To get my LPC, so I can practice.”

“A woman in STEM,” she nodded slowly, a slight smile on her face. Her eyes were focused on the tv screen, but they held a glint of humor. “Hey, I respect it. That’s a difficult job. You like it so far?”

“I liked undergrad,” I shrugged. “I’m kind of scared about my master’s, though.”

She elbowed me softly, in an attempt to offer up some semblance of encouragement, “Don’t be. You’re not dumb. You’ll figure it out.” She was the type of person to not really compliment others, so it was sweet that she was trying for me, someone she barely even knew.

“Thank you,” I grinned over at her as our match ended.

She met my eye, fought back the wide smile itching at her face, and rolled her eyes, “Cmon, peaches. I wanna kick your ass on rainbow road.”

We continued on bantering, chatting about whatever came to mind. I knew then that she’d be a rock to turn to this summer, this suspicion exemplified by the fact that she even said she’d listen to one of the songs I mentioned, though she was a metal-lover, through and through. I was becoming like an exception to everyone, a bright, soft spot of sunshine in the black-clothed masses of this touring crew. It was heartwarming to be so beloved, even if no one would say those words directly (besides Max, of course).

So, what if Oliver didn’t like me? All of his fucking friends did.

So, things were coming up Daisy. I was making friends- most notably, Max, Cyrus, and Ronnie. Sam was right- Cy was incredibly smart. We spent a lot of time on the bus that weekend- and the next, when we traveled further up England- discussing school, psychological theories, cognitive studies. He knew a lot about a lot and it was stimulating to get to have such intelligent conversations.

Max was a handful, of course. Again, Sam being right- Max loved to flirt with me. I think it got on my brother’s nerves, but I found it to be a fun little game. At breakfast, back in London, he’d greet me every morning with a pleasant grin, a compliment on my hairstyle for the day or my lip stick color.

Of course, it would be followed by, “Would look better on me.” To which, I would laugh hysterically and Sam would try to fling eggs at his boss.

When this particular flirtation had been spent, I glanced around the group, giggling, when my eyes landed on Oliver. He was actually looking up, and at one point, he met my eyes. My bright grin did not falter, not until his lingering stare turned into a roll in his eyes. He looked back down at his phone and I decided then and there that I would not spend another minute ruminating on him and his negative energy.

Adam and I got along, but we weren’t super compatible, which I didn’t mind. Not everyone always matched with one another. We shared pleasant greetings and didn’t mind sitting next to each other at breakfast. He seemed to just keep to himself most of the time, anyways. Not that he didn’t spend time with the group. He just- was quiet, reserved.

We’d finished up the tour dates scheduled in England during those first three weeks. It had felt like a year long journey but, in reality, they’d only performed about six concerts in that time. We still had two and a half months to go. I was elated. Time on the bus was relaxing, passing by quicker than I thought it would. Though Cy’s bunk was on the other bus, he spent most of his time with us, with Sam. Max would even bus hop, opting for group movie nights with us or games of poker. We sometimes roped Adam into it, but Oliver never budged. His band mates would call him lame, tease him for being such a n introvert, but gave up once he’d roll his eyes at them.

I wondered how they put up with his shitty attitude all the time. It must be frustrating, this annoyance only made worse by the fact that he was so fucking talented. I refused to listen to their music anymore than what Sam had already shown because I just didn’t want to give Oliver the satisfaction, even if he wouldn’t know about it.

IdontcareIdontcareIdontcare. I had to remind myself that a lot.

The next two stops were in Italy, where we’d be for just a week and a half. The evening before we boarded the plane that would take us there, however, we all decided to get out for a big dinner. It was the first time I’d really be hanging with the entire group, outside of our bus and hotel breakfasts. I wanted to look good, knowing they were used to seeing me in sweats, hoodies, jeans, so I spent a bit of time getting myself ready.

Sam barely dressed up, opting for jeans and a nicer jumper, black Vans a staple to all his outfits. I picked out one of the nicer dresses I’d packed, blush pink, with a square neckline, sheer long sleeves, and a length that cut off above my mid-thigh. I wore my black platform boots, gold jewelry, and did my hair up in this silk bow I had purchased back in London. This was the first time on this trip that I felt really good about how I looked. Oliver’s burning hatred for me only made me more insecure than I already was. Not tonight.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting me, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I opened the bathroom door, my boots noisy on the carpeted floor. A sweet smile came across his face. He slid his phone into his pocket and stood to take me in. His head tilted to the side.

“What?” I rubbed my hands down the front of my dress, feeling overanalyzed by his gaze.

“I don’t tell you enough Daz, but you’re beautiful,” Sam nodded, just once. Usually, I’d make fun of him for being so cheesy, so affectionate. But, this summer was bonding us more.

Instead, I grinned at my brother, but still reached out to playfully punch his arm. “Thanks, Sam-Ham.”

“Hey, you’ve done pretty well at not using that so far. Think the guys forgot about that one time.” We headed for the door now, back on our bantering like usual.

I shrugged at his comment, countering with, “Maybe I should remind them of it, then.”

Sam held the door open for me, but, as I said those words, he tried to shove it close on my moving body. I yelped at the impact and then dug my heels into the carpet as I pushed back against his weight. He laughed, heartily, before giving up on shutting me in. Because I was pushing so hard, I toppled out into the hallway, breathless, nearly falling on my face. Sam caught my shoulders and pushed me back on my feet.

As I looked up, I saw Oliver, standing outside of his own room, a quiet smile on his face. He had been observing our antics, passively, with an amused glint in his eye. I grinned back at him, my stupid heart feeling hopeful for some semblance of a spark to catch between us. As if he realized it was my eyes he was looking into, he turned his head.

But, then, just as quickly as he peeled his gaze away, he put it back on me. On my boots, fiery brown eyes dragging themselves up my body. They lingered over the curve of my hips, the peaks of my breasts, my glossy lips and, then, my eyes. He seemed to smirk at me, flashed his eyes, then turned on his heel and headed for the elevator.

Sam hadn’t noticed the longing gaze Oliver burned into me because Ronnie was approaching us from down the hall. She didn’t really go to breakfast or dinner with us because she was always on the move. But, luckily, she was able to make it out tonight. And, whenever Ronnie was around, Sam was more than distracted.

I was too focused on Oliver, myself, staring at his retreating back with a slack jaw. Goosebumps littered the skin exposed on my chest, my legs, a chemical reaction eliciting itself from his burning eyes. What the fuck was that? I knew, deep in my soul, that I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was literally just a stupid man, and I was dressed in little to no clothing. As long as a vagina had legs, men would fuck the most insufferable of women. That was just it- right?

I didn’t have time to focus on my own racing thoughts, however, because Ronnie was talking to me now, teasing me about my dress, which I knew, for her, was just a hidden compliment.

“Jesus, it’s like Princess Peach in real life,” she chuckled, eyeing me up.

I turned to the two of them, licking my lips as if to snap myself out of my lucid trance. “Huh? Oh…uh- insert funny Princess Peach line,” I shook my hands around, forcing a smile upon my face, as I tried to banter back.

“Something like, ‘save me, Mario!”’ Sam mocked the character in a high-pitched voice.

This finally distracted my brain enough. Ronnie and I shared a humorously surprised expression, eyed Sam, before bursting out into laughter.

“That was fucking terrible!” Ronnie exclaimed, smacking Sam in the bicep. “I loved it.”

We made our way to the elevator, still teasing Sam for his terrible impression. He tried to save himself by acting like Mario, but that was just another train wreck, in and of itself.

“I’m-a sorry! Please-a forgive me-a!” He lifted his arms in a strange manner as he made another horrid impression. Ronnie held a finger up to her lips, “No, no. Shhhhhh…no, just…no.” I giggled into my hand.

We were supposed to meet the others down in the lobby, where we would take a pair of taxis down the street to some five-star restaurant the boys had recommended. I was lucky to have saved up so much at my job back home, to be able to do stuff like this all summer. I don’t think I’d ever been to such a fancy place before. I was more than excited.

When we stepped off the elevator, we spotted our group by the front doors. Max was in a sweater, jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets as he spoke to Adam, who was also dressed nicer than normal. He looked over the guitarist's shoulder as the elevator dinged and spotted me immediately. Max gawked at the sight. He interrupted his band mate’s conversation in order to whistle. I flushed red, eyes rolling, though I secretly appreciated all the attention I was garnering with this little outfit.

“Oh, my god,” Ronnie murmured to herself, pressing a hand to her forehead as though he was stressing her out. She and Sam moved off, out of the way, as Max approached.

He brushed past Adam, looking me up and down. He reached out for my hands, taking my fingers in his large hold. He lifted my arms up, as if to get a better examination of me. “Love, you look fucking gorgeous!”

I shook my head, grinning at the compliments, and it ruffled my hair over my shoulders. It drew Max’s attention to my intricate hairstyle. He moved his hand to touch my neck, softly, and turned my head to admire the hairstyle.

“Wow, love, just; wow!” Max appreciated me some more, settling a blush across my cheeks.

Then, he pulled me to stand beside him, looping my hand through his arm, laying it around his bicep. “Come on, love; you’re my date for this evening. Yeah?”

“Sure,” I patted his bicep. “Whatever you say.”

Max groaned, head tilted back, eyes shut. “Don’t say that! That’s dangerous-“

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Sam called from his spot beside Ronnie, a finger pointed warningly at Max. I hung my head, giggles falling from my mouth. Ronnie looked amused at the confrontation.

Max raised his own hand in defense, “Okay, okay. I’ll even admit that one was a little…out there.” Sam nodded firmly with a disapproving smile. Max tilted his head down towards me, his expression more polite now, words close to my ear. “Sorry, love.”

I leaned into his arm, winking slightly, “Don’t be. I liked it.”

“Oh! That’s my girl,” Max tapped my nose sweetly.

I was on top of the world. I looked good- even Oliver thought so- I felt good. I was in the most beautiful country, surrounded by people I was forming tightly-knit relationships with. Nothing could ruin my elated mood.

I didn’t even care that Ronnie, Sam, and Adam had piled into the one taxi, leaving Max, Oliver, Cy, and I to share the other. I didn’t care that I’d have to share such a small space with the most insufferable man in the world.

Cy chose to sit up front, cutting off Oliver, who had most definitely been headed in that direction. Cy didn’t notice, though. His action was sacrificial for everyone else, not intentionally manipulative towards his band mate. Oliver, however, seemed to take it to heart, frowning deeply at the rejection and fisting his hand into his hoodie pocket.

I watched all this occur as Max opened the door to the taxi, helping me inside the back seat. “You okay in the middle?” He asked, head dipped inside the vehicle.

I nodded, “No worries.” I only realized after I saw Oliver round the car that this meant I’d be sitting flush against him.

I didn’t care. Though my face flushed with anticipatory anxiety, I didn’t care. I didn’t care- was that his cologne in the air- nope. Don’t care.

Max piled in, softly shutting the door behind him, leg and shoulder pressed up against my own. I buckled myself in just as Oliver opened the door. I tried to offer a sweet smile, still choosing kindness over returning his awful behavior. He didn’t mirror any gesture in return. My smile faltered.

No. I wouldn’t let him ruin this for me. Tonight was going to be fun, whether he wanted it to be or not. If he chose to sulk in my presence, then that was his problem. I shook my shoulders about, basically shaking him off of me. Though, it would be my problem during the car ride. He slid into the seat next to me and I swear I could feel his negative energy fill up the car. Besides, he was tall, legs and arms long, shoulders wide. I know he was trying to shove himself up against the door, but he couldn’t just not touch me. His thigh was warm against mine, his shoulder tense. I leaned into Max to try to give him more space, but that was unfair to him.

The bassist shifted in return, looking down at me, apologetic for thinking he had taken up too much space, “Sorry, love.”

“S’okay,” I looked away from Oliver, focusing my attention on the road before us as the driver pulled out of the parking lot. I tried to sink into myself. But, I was still flush against either man.

I could smell Oliver’s cologne, too. It was sweet, musky. It overwhelmed my senses. Though I tried to process Max and Cy’s blossoming conversation, appeal myself to them and only them, all I could think about was Oliver. How he smelled. The curve of his thigh.

Oliver’s large hand on his knee, slender fingers curved over top of the limb. Oliver’s chest, in the corner of my eye, moving up and down slowly, in a controlled rhythm of breathing. Oliver’s scent, so strong to my senses, so…distracting. He smelled so damn good.

I shifted in my seat again. My thigh pressed up against his more. I squeezed my legs together to avoid his, but there wasn’t enough room. I glanced at him, an apologetic smile on my lips.

He looked down at me, lips pursed slightly. I held his eyes for a moment, trying to read his expression. Just as I went to turn my head away, his eyes dipped down, over the peaks of my breast again.

Okay, he was not helping the situation. The way he looked more over was just making him seem more attractive to my stupid brain.

I flushed, skin spotting with color from the red blush. I took a deep breath, chest rising and falling as I tried to control the heat in my body. I saw from the corner of my eye that Oliver was still staring at me. He shifted this time, tugging his hoodie down his belt. I furrowed my brows at the movement, flicking my eyes over his lap, where the hem of his jacket had now settled. Oliver coughed, large hand holding the edge of his hoodie down over where he had moved it to. I did a double-take, realizing after a moment what that meant.

He had a boner.

He had a boner because of me.

Oliver had a boner because of me.

Oh, God.

I couldn’t think straight. I clutched the edge of my dress, knuckles white from the pressure in them. My chest only fell faster, breathing short, goosebumps littering my flushed skin again. I could feel Oliver look over at me, over and over. He just couldn’t look away. He shifted countless more times, thigh pushing against mine. It sprouted a wildfire across my skin.

I didn’t want to play games, but he was making it impossible to be the neutral position in this narrative. One day, he hated me, rolling his eyes at my laughter. Then, the next, he’s checking me out, battling a boner in the seat beside me? So, maybe I should just choose a side. Maybe I should play back.

I spread my legs, only a centimeter due to the lack of space I had, pressing my thigh into his more. It was noticeable to him, and him only.

He felt the pressure, eyes dragging down my body to my leg. The hand he still had curved over his leg squeezed his knee cap, knuckles flushing white, like my own. I smirked to myself, though I knew he could see the expression on my face. He let out a breathless huff, as if he was struggling to get air into his lungs.

Eventually, we made it to the restaurant. I continued pushing my leg into his, though he slowly began to cower into the corner of the car, knee turning towards the door. I felt victorious, confident in the way I had made his body react.

Though my hands still shook from the heat of the moment. The game paused during dinner. Oliver went back to ignoring me, eyes trained on the menu or his lap. I knew it was partially because he didn’t want to have a boner in front of our friends. Though, he conversed a bit more tonight, to Ronnie about tour dates, to his band mates about the setlist, to Sam about some stupid bit they were all involved in. I knew it was just because of the camaraderie between everyone.

Everyone had a really good time, myself included, though I was sweating. We were all laughing, sharing stories over numerous glasses of wine. Of course, my hand was a little heavier than the other’s when I’d poured myself some of the maroon colored liquid. I needed to drink in order to get through this painful plane of existence. This was not how I thought the night would go, but there was no going back now. I needed to make him uncomfortable, needed him to see me. He couldn’t ignore me any longer. Not now, not when I knew that I had him in such a taunting way. When dessert was brought out- slices of chocolate cake- I stepped back into the game. I was a little more brave now, encouraged by the wine. I was tipsy, sure, but I also knew exactly what I was doing.

Oliver was seated right across from me, accidental on either of our ends. But, lucky, nonetheless. I pushed my feet out underneath the table, taking up more space than I needed to. Eventually, the toes of my boots hit the tips of his black converse.

He had been eating his cake, eyes trained on the white cloth of the table. But, when I knocked our shoes together, his eyes flinched up, towards me. His brows furrowed. He dipped his head down and lifted the cloth up slightly to look at our shoes under the table. Oliver met my eyes again. He rolled his eyes and went back to his cake. I smirked to myself. He thought I was just being stupid, stretching my legs out. No- I was a smart girl. I knew what I was doing. This was all intentional. I hated him, but he thought I was hot. So, I could finally get back at him for all of his shitty behavior. Could use my good looks to my advantage.

I put my boot atop one of his converse. His foot wriggled beneath mine, in an attempt to knock it off. But, I pressed down, keeping it there. Oliver looked back up, annoyance evident in his face.

I took the opportunity to have a bit of my cake, slipping the fork between my lips slowly, tongue flicking out to swipe the bottom of it seductively. Oliver’s eyes widened as I drug the utensil from my lips. I twisted it around in my mouth, cleaning off every inch, lips pursed. He sat up in his seat.

I had his full attention now.

I scooped more cake onto my fork, though I didn’t bite into it this time. Instead, I licked the fork, dragging it down my tongue. Oliver’s eyes watched my mouth, his own tongue flicking out over his lips.

I swallowed, noticeably so. He shifted in his seat, hands in his laps now. I set my fork down, leaned back in my seat, and crossed my arms. I let myself grin at him, having successfully made his dick hard again. He was a stupid, easy boy. It didn’t matter who I was- so long as I was wearing skimpy clothes and being sexy- he was weak. Sure, he probably still couldn’t stand me- but his dick was hard.

Oliver’s jaw clenched. He tilted his chin up towards me, as if to say, “Okay. I see how it is.”

I flicked my brows at him, reaching out for my wine glass, and maintaining eye contact as I took a long swig. “Should we go out for drinks?” Max asked from his end of the table.

I glanced down at him, my wine glass empty now. Sam wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, searching everyone’s expressions. “Could be fun,” I shrugged. “Yeah, I could go for some beer,�� Adam shrugged from his seat.

Ronnie nodded, too, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Cyrus raised a hand to motion to the waitress that we needed our checks. I reached around to the back of my chair as she approached, ready to grab my wallet. Though we had already laid out how the checks would be split, she never gave me mine.

I furrowed my brows as she passed over me, handing out bills to everyone else. But, then I saw Sam laying his card down on his bill and nodded to myself. When we left the restaurant, and began walking down the street to the closest bar, I caught up to him and Ronnie. I looped my arm through his, gaining his attention, “Thanks, Sam Ham.”

He looked confused by my gratitude, but didn’t have time to focus on that because he was too busy being offended by my choice of nickname. He moved to fuck with me, to tickle my waist or something, but I quickly ran from him. Max and Adam were walking a few feet ahead of us. Laughing loudly, I headed to them, running in front of Max. The wine I had drank was making me loud, silly. I appreciated the ability to relax, unwind. Be myself without any filters holding me back.

Max nearly tripped over me, but when he heard Sam calling out, trying to get to me, he quickly grabbed me by the waist. “Leave my girl alone, you monster!” Max shouted, tossing me over his shoulder and racing further down the street.

I clutched onto his arms, yelping at the hectic movement. We reached the bar before everyone else, Sam having given up on chasing us after he nearly tripped on the curb. I watched them all approach where we stood from over Max’s shoulder, breathless.

I patted his back and said, “Okay, thanks, but you can let me down now.”

“Mhm,” Max turned towards the group. “Appreciating the view, love.”

“Max,” Ronnie was even getting protective over me. She moved in front of us, an annoyed look on her face, “You’re disgusting.”

Max huffed, and replied, “Okay, okay, here,” before settling me back on my feet. He grinned down at me, booped my nose again before heading into the bar with Adam, Ronnie, and Sam.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Cy and Oliver, having been trailing behind our group. Cy smiled kindly, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. I noticed Oliver was looking up at the sky. I trailed my eyes down over his body, towards his crotch curiously. His black skinny jeans looked just a liiiiittle bit tight, again.

I smirked to myself. “Cmon, Cy,” I pushed Oliver gently out of the way in order to grab onto his friend’s arm. We walked into the bar, leaving Oliver in the dust. I made sure to swing my hips just so for his gaze, which I was positive was glued to my ass.

The game was back on. And he would lose.

Max handed me yet another drink, a sweet, drunken smile on his face. “Here you are, lovey.”

“Thank you, friend!” I wriggled around on the bar stool happily. I lazily wrapped my lips around the thin black straw in the glass I now held tightly in my hand. The bitter taste of alcohol, diluted by the cherry grenadine and orange slice clipped onto the rim of the glass, flooded my tongue. I shut my eyes as I enjoyed the taste, drunk enough that it didn’t actually matter how gross vodka was.

I set the glass back down upon the bar, then twisted my stool around to observe the small dance floor. It was some local dive bar we’d settled on, a place Max had been to loads of times before. It was getting crowded, especially as the night wound down. Every seat at the counter was full, the tables were occupied, and everyone on said dance floor was pushing up against each other. The couples dancing there were sights for sore eyes, all sloppy hips and wandering hands.

I moved my head side to side, with the rhythm of the song playing, lips pursed. I knew some of the words, mostly just the chorus, so I sang along when I could. I glanced over to the pool tables when I heard Sam and Ronnie cheer loudly. They were playing against Adam and Cy, who seemed to be losing quite badly. I giggled to myself as Sam chest-bumped with Ronnie.

Max, who had been talking to Oliver, who was sitting- sulking- beside us, turned his attention back to me. I was still his ‘date’ for the evening, so he had refused to let me buy my own drinks. This was incredibly dangerous. Not including the two glasses of wine I’d had back at the restaurant, I was already on my fourth drink. The liquor was making my stomach warm, my limbs loose. As for Oliver…I had been too busy enjoying myself in the bar to play with him. I was feeling like just giving up, satisfied with what I’d accomplished, growing bored of him as the alcohol filled up my attention. Besides, the man seemed uninterested in anything anymore.

“I still owe you a dance, don’t I, lovely?” Max’s voice was low in my ear, his cheek brushing against my hair.

I grinned up at him, “I think you owe me at least two.”

Max dipped his head back to swallow the rest of his drink before offering me his hand. As he did, Whitney Houston began playing. My mouth opened wide in excitement. I hopped off the bar and drugged him behind me, jumping to the rhythm with each step I took towards the floor. I sang to Max, holding onto his hand, pointing with every lyric, popping my hips. He swayed, but mostly let me have my moment. He pulled me every so often and my hair would whip past my shoulders.

“Spinning through the town- ah!” I squealed as Max spun me towards his chest. I clutched onto his shoulders as he dipped me, hands low on my back. As I hung there in the air, I burst out laughing, my head falling further backwards.

When I opened my eyes, I caught sight of Oliver, now turned in his stool to face the dance floor. He wasn’t smiling, no, he was basically incapable of doing so. But, there was a small curl in his lips, a glint in his dark eyes each time the flashing lights burned his pupils. Nevermind. I was back in. I was so back in the game that it was probably unhealthy, and I’d probably regret it. The song ended, and, to my luck, S&M by Rihanna began playing. I grinned at Max as my back straightened up, my chest pressed against his.

He tilted his head at me with a playful smile, “I have a feeling Sam won’t like this.”

I wrapped my arms around Max’s neck, pushing myself flush against him. I stood on my tiptoes, glossy lips barely ghosting his earlobe as I whispered, “I don’t care.”

As I pulled away, I watched Max throw his head back and roll his eyes. “You’re killing me, love!”

“Good!”

The chorus began thumping through the speakers. I pushed Max’s leg through my own, feeling his boney hips against mine. I rolled my waist to his, tossing my hair back, leaning into his hands. He pushed his touch lower, over the curve of my tailbone, dangerously close to my ass. We danced through the song, pushing into each other, hips rolling. As it reached the bridge, Max pushed me away, still holding my hand, encouraging me to dance on my own for a moment. I did, jumping around, screaming the lyrics, hair whipping over my face. Max then spun me back into his chest.

When I thumped against his body, I knew I was going to puke. Vile pushed up my throat and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I stumbled, ripping my hand from Max. He was speaking to me, asking if I was okay, or something of the sort, but I couldn’t hear him.

I needed to get away- get to the bathroom, get fresh air, something. I didn’t know where the ladies room was, so I b-lined for the front door, tripping through the crowd, until my fingers touched the push bar handle. My knees scraped against the pavement as I fell into the curb, retching the contents of the dinner I’d had into the bushes outside the bar. I tried to brush my hair from my face, but it was sticking to my face in bunches, sweat acting as a bondant.

Out of nowhere, I felt someone else’s warm hands on my neck, fingering my hair back into their fist, peeling strands from my cheeks and lips. I braced my hands against the dirt of the curb and some of it lodged up under my fingernails. My knees were burning, probably all cut up from my crash landing.

After a few minutes of relentless gagging, my stomach was finally empty. I pushed myself back onto my ass, tears dripping down my cheeks, black mascara smudging all the way down to my neck. My back pressed up against the stranger’s chest. I felt my shoulders shaking from the exertion my body had just gone through.

“It’s okay,” they were shushing me throughout it all, their voice now processing in my ears. They wrapped an arm around my waist, hugging me to their chest as they swayed us slightly. Their other hand continued brushing my hair from my face soothingly, coaxing me down from the high of the moment. “It’s okay, Daisy. You’ll be okay.”

“I wanna go home,” I sobbed slightly, words slobbered from my salivating lips.

“I know, I know, s’okay,” they continued soothing me. “Think you can stand?”

I glanced down, looking over the hand that was helping me. Silver rings adorned the person’s long, slender fingers, and their pale wrist led into an arm that disappeared under a black sweatshirt. As my brain processed their voice, their sweet smell of cologne that was encasing me, my eyes widened.

“Ol-” my voice cracked, “Oliver?”

He peered over my shoulder as I looked back at him, managing to meet his eyes. “Yeah? You okay? Think you can stand, darling?”

I wanted to be angry, to jump up and yell at him for being so fucking weird, for acting like my existence was a burden, but falling to his knees whenever I was in danger. But, I couldn’t right now. I just wanted to go home. Back to the hotel, curl up in bed.

“N-no,” I admitted guiltily, brows furrowed. “I…don’t feel good.”

“S’okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. Here,” Oliver braced my back with a hand as he stood, ensuring I wouldn’t fall over onto the sidewalk. When he settled onto his feet, he pulled his phone from his pocket, shot a quick text to someone. Then, he crouched down, scooped me up, easily, into his arms. I lazily wrapped my hands around his neck.

The crevice of his shoulder was warm, so I nuzzled my head there. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping rapidly through his hoodie. I focused on the sound as he began walking. My eyes, unwillingly, fluttered shut. I didn’t know where we were going or, honestly, what the fuck was happening. But, I couldn’t care. I just needed my world to stop spinning. Besides, being so close to him felt…good. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true. But, he was…he felt good.

Eventually, I guess, we made it back to the hotel. I came to from my sleepy trance when I heard the elevator ding. I took in a sharp gasp of breath, lifting my head from Oliver’s chest.

“Doing okay, Daisy?” He looked down at me. I felt us shift as the elevator lifted up on its track. I shook my head, only having enough energy to do so once, frowning deeply, “Not really.”

“S’okay, darling, we’re almost there,” Oliver assured me. My brows furrowed when I heard the pet name pass through his lips. “What?” I questioned. I suppose he’d used it a few times now, but this was the first I’d noticed it. It was…entrancing.

Oliver glanced back at me, having trained his eyes back on the doors before us, “Said we’ll be there soon, yeah?” “Darling,” I whispered, mostly to myself as I lay my head back into his neck.

I heard him chuckle softly, as though he heard my inquiring tone. The noise rattled against my cupped ear, deep, hollow in his chest. I liked the sound. I wanted to hear it more often. I cooed and felt Oliver’s chest constrict beneath my chin, as though he was taking a deep breath. We were moving again, down the hallway, towards mine and Sam’s room. Oliver stopped outside of it and shifted me in his arms. “Okay, darling, need your help here. I’ve got your purse. Could you get in it, get your key? Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

My mind was so rattled by his free use of the sweet names that I struggled to focus on the task at hand. Jaw slack, I stared up at him, hypnotized. He smiled down at me, still humored by my shock.

“Darling? Please? Your purse.”

‘‘Purse,” I nodded slowly. Then, somehow, I managed to reach for the pink strap slung over his shoulder. I fished my purse into my lap, dug around, trying to find my wallet. As I continued to search for it, I began to grow frustrated. I just wanted to close my eyes, go to sleep. “Can’t find it.” I began to cry again, sniffling lamely.

He soothed me with soft hushes, “S’okay. Darling, s’okay. You can just..” he huffed as he tried to come up with a solution. He peered down the hallway, towards his room. “You can just stay in my room. Don’t cry, Daisy. S…okay.”

He seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than me. He backtracked down the hallway, stopping before his door now. “Okay, just one more favor, darling. Can you do that for me? One more?”

“Yes,” I slurred.

Oliver tapped his fingers against the underside of my thigh. It released a net of butterflies in my stomach. “Can you reach into my back pocket, get my wallet? Yeah?”

I shifted in his arms, straining my arm over his shoulder as I reached for the wallet he spoke of. With a few soft groans from me, and the help of Oliver, who lifted me up further so I could reach, I retrieved it. I flipped it open, eyes immediately drawn to his driver’s license in the clear slot.

“You’re cute,” I muttered to myself, rubbing a finger across the picture. “December 22. Your birthday is seven months away.”

“Yes, it is, darling,” he chuckled down at me. “Now, listen-“

“My birthday is next month,” I tilted my head back, pointing my glazed smile up at him.

“Oh, yeah?” I watched as his grin grew upon meeting my eyes.

“The 12th,” I moved my hand from the wallet to his cheek, touching it softly. “You’re cute.”

His face grew hot beneath my touch. “So are you, darling. You wanna get to sleep, yeah?”

The words drew a yawn from my throat. I arched my back into his hold, nodding lazily.

“Would you take the hotel key out and press it against the handle, please? Daisy-“ he demanded my eye contact. I gave it to him, easily. I would do anything he asked, I knew at this moment.

“Yes.”

I unlocked the door, pushed it open for us. Oliver moved through the threshold, pressing a kiss to my temple shortly. When he spoke, his lips were so close to my ear that I felt his words in my legs. It vibrated through my veins, like the music at the bar had. He said, “Good girl.” I managed not to make a guttural noise.

Oliver carried me to his bed, gently laying my body down over the covers. I immediately curled up into myself, shivering at the cold in the air, eyes squeezed shut. I’d forgotten any conversation I’d started with him in the hallway. I was too focused on getting to sleep.

Oliver sat down beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. He shook me, softly, “May I take off your shoes?”

I groaned in response, hoping it came out as a positive signal for him. He laughed again, before moving his touch down to my calves. He was so warm.

Oliver lifted my one leg, just slightly, unzipping each boot before sliding them down and off my feet. He leaned over the bet to set them on the floor.

When he straightened up, he leaned in to get a closer look at my knees. “Scraped yourself up pretty good.”

I hissed as his fingers dabbed at a cut. He apologized, softly, before adding, “Let me get a cloth, okay?” His hand was on my cheek now, thumb brushing away some of the mascara that was dried on my face.

I gave him a thumbs up, my hand hitting his shoulder. He took my fingers in his and lay it back against my chest. I held his hand there, snuggling my cheek to it. Oliver sighed at the action, but then took his hand back. I heard him get up. I heard the faucet run. Suddenly, he was back, pressing a warm, damp cloth to my face.

‘‘C’mere, darling,” he sat down again. Oliver’s fingers cradled my cheek as he lifted my head up and lay it in his lap. His fingers were rough from playing the guitar, but it was nice to feel them brush the hair away from my face. He was cleaning the makeup off my face now.

Meanwhile, I was far too drunk and tired to notice the way my body reacted to his touch. Butterflies ate away at my stomach, heat sprouted from every ghost of his fingers. Goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, eating away at me like acid.

He moved his focus down to my knees, using some alcohol pads to wipe off dried blood on my legs. He bandaged them with whatever he found in the bathroom.

“Would you like to change out of your dress?” Oliver then asked. He was still stroking my cheek now, but the cloth was abandoned. There was no makeup to take off. He was just…touching me, just for the sake of touching me.

“Please,” I peeked open my eyes. His face was so close to mine, it almost made me flinch. But, I was taken back more by the brightness of the lights glaring down on me.

When my squinting eyes met his gaze, he grinned, “Think you can sit up for me, darling?”

I nodded, a smile forced onto my face from his beautiful expression. Oliver braced my back again, large fingers splayed out over my waist, helping me to lean against the headboard. I wanted his hands all over me. I hoped I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t think I did, but who knew at this point.

“Would you like a hoodie? T-shirt? Pants?” He glanced around the room as he spoke, hoping to find something for me.

“Hoodie,” I murmured in response, staring at the blank, black screen of the tv.

Oliver went to stand, but I reached out, fingers grasping at the strings of his jacket. He settled back onto the bed, brows furrowed as he looked down at my touch. He pointed to his chest, “This hoodie?”

“Please,” I stared at the string as I played with it. Oliver chuckled, again, before tugging his arms from the sleeves, peeling the hoodie up and over his head. My eyes glued to his chest as his shirt rode up, revealing his toned stomach, the line that I knew led to his dick. His hair was all ruffled from the movement, too, only making him more attractive to me.

“Wanna keep staring at me or go to bed, darling?” Oliver touched his pointer finger to my slack jaw, drawing my eyes to his.

I met his dark stare, flushing red. I smiled, “Both.”

“One thing at a time. We have all summer,” he shook his head, the volume of his words lowering as he spoke, like it was a secret we were sharing with each other. What the fuck did that mean? That meant something. That meant…everything. What the fuck?

I managed to lean forward so Oliver could unzip my dress, though my mind was somewhere else. It was racing, especially as his fingers brushed down my spine. My back arched into his touch. Heat sprouted like a garden on my skin. I needed…

Oliver pulled his hoodie over my bare body. When my head popped through the opening, we shared a sweet grin. Oliver glanced up at my hair, then ran both his hands over the mess, patting it down. He cradled my head in his hands, his large, warm, hold simply gazing into my eyes.

The pace of my breathing sped up, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him. I didn’t care that he was confusing, that he was an asshole 99% of the time. I didn’t care that he probably tasted like cigarette smoke, that I’d puked thirty minutes ago, or that he was my brother’s boss.

I needed his lips on mine. He had been the center of my thoughts these past few weeks. And he was finally right there for the taking.

I pushed forward with so much effort that I tackled Oliver onto the bed. I grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, guiding his lips to mine. He made a noise as his back hit the bed, the air knocked out of him. I straddled his waist, somehow, sloppily kissing him.

For a moment, just a brief moment, Oliver touched my waist and kissed me back. Then, he braced his hands against my shoulders, leaned his head back far enough into the bed that he could get away.

“Daisy-“

“Oliver, please!” I tugged at his shirt, whining like a child who had their candy stolen.

Oliver laughed at my puckered lips, squeezed-shut eyes. He sat us up, me in his lap, his hands moving to my waist. The movement forced my eyes open, my lips coming to a frown on my face. I furrowed my brows, puppy-dog eyes staring up at him with a pleading in my pupils.

“Daisy, you’re drunk,” he touched my cheek, trying to ground my gaze to his, hoping the explanation would make sense to my drunken mind.

But, it didn’t, of course. Besides, this was rejection. Rejection from the guy who rolled his eyes everytime I spoke. Rejection from the guy who got hard because of my thigh pressing against his leg in the car. The confusion of the situation was overwhelming me.

And the only thing I could think to say was, “Why don’t you want me?”

Oliver’s gaze softened. He didn’t even have to think of his response. It came so naturally, “I do. I…I do want you.”

His voice was soft, a whisper passed between just our breaths. My grip on his shirt loosened as I relaxed in his lap. I was still frowning, though, still confused, “Then why…why are you so mean to me?”

“It’s complicated, darling,” he searched my face, worry in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just…let’s just get you to bed, okay? We can have this conversation when you’re sober. Can we do that, darling? Besides, we have a plane to catch in five hours.” I nodded, though it was slow, unsure. Oliver helped me under the covers, tucking them up to my chin sweetly. He brushed my hair back again, eyes lingering on my fluttering-shut eyes. I mumbled, barely coherent, slurred words, “Please lay with me.”

Oliver shook his head, “I can’t do that, darling.” “Why?” I pouted my lip.

And, though I forgot a lot of details about this night, his response was something I would never, ever let slip from my memory.

“If I lay down next to you, I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself.”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #sleep token x y/n #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #vessel x reader #vessel x y/n #vessel smut #sleep token smut #vessel sleep token #vessel x you #sleep token x you #vessel (sleep token) x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

Text

Kalim, Azul: Silver Spoon, Golden Boy

Kalim my beloved sun spot... 🥺 Also, gotta love that classic Azul ass-kissing to the wealthy/j ashdaisdbasfiba I DON'T KNOW IF THIS WAS JUST ME, but I wonder if Kalim not knowing where the cash register was is a subtle nod to Princess Jasmine not knowing she had to pay for fruit (during that scene where she snuck out of the palace and into the bazaar)?? Maybe I'm overthinking it!

A Boy in Bloom, and his Blossoming Future.

"How do you spend your days off?"

"I dunno!" Kalim replied cheerily, not a care in the world. "I do lots of stuff, it depends on the day!

“I'll throw a banquet if there's something to celebrate or if there's someone that's feeling down. Sometimes I'll play with the animals—Scarabia has a whole menagerie—or I'll take magic carpet out for a ride! Sometimes I'll chill with Cater and Lilia, or see what Silver's up to in Diasomnia."

"My, my, you're quite sociable, Kalim-san," Azul crooned, simpering and sweet. "It's good to keep oneself busy, but it’s even more important to build and maintain relationships, wouldn’t you say? You manage to keep abreast of them both so effortlessly.”

“Aw, thanks a bunch!! I love hanging out with my friends! I’ve actually been trying to go out more lately instead of bringing people back to Scarabia. It makes Jamil upset with me when I bring over unannounced guests, so…”

“He said that?” Azul pretended to look taken aback. “How rude! I would certainly never do such a thing.”

“No, he didn’t say it. I can just tell. His face turns into this mask you can’t read, or he sighs and tells me off a little. But even if he’s not happy with me, Jamil always does what I ask. Always. For so many years.” Kalim’s smile dimmed, a slight sadness creeping onto his lips. “I don’t want to cause him more trouble than I already have.”

Azul frowned, his flattery faltering. Something genuine pushed out instead. “… Kalim-san. Your compassion for others truly is remarkable. Jamil-san may not voice his true thoughts, however… there is a part of him that notices your efforts and appreciates them.”

“You think so?” Hope welled in the birthday boy’s voice.

“Fufufu, of course. I’m a businessman—and if nothing, I know of people’s hearts.” Azul pushed his glasses up, the sunlight momentarily catching them in pure white. “Now then, please continue to be hat you were saying before. You’ve been going out more as of late?”

“Yeah!” He perked. “The other day, I went shopping with my dorm.”

“Shopping?”

“Shopping!!” Kalim affirmed with a nod. “Usually I’d have people do it for me, but getting to do it myself was like a whole new world! I want to try and be more independent, so I thought this would be a good first step.”

“Well… yes, it is. Baby steps, I suppose.” His interviewer quirked a brow. “And how did that trip go?”

Surely he couldn’t have run into any excessive issues. He was still accompanied by dorm members, so they should have kept him in check.

“It was so cool seeing the places that sell things! I thought that stores would be more like the bazaars back home, with everyone mostly selling one thing. The fruit vendor, the fish monger! Like that!

“It turns out that stores sell lots of stuff all in one place. I got excited seeing it all, I had to grab a little of everything!! Um... then I stood around!"

"... What for?"

"I didn't know where the cash register was!!" Kalim easily laughed it off. "But my dorm mates were nice enough to help me out! They showed me the way and helped bring over the stuff I wanted to buy.

"It was a lot of work hauling it all, so I got them thank-you gifts for the trouble! Then I saw something really amazing while we were checking out!!"

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Carpet cleaner!"

"... I beg your pardon? Carpet cleaner?" It certainly wasn't the first thing Azul would have imagined to capture the eye of such a wealthy boy.

"Magic carpet wasn't able to make the trip into town with us. I thought he'd feel sad if he didn't get a souvenir... so I hope 50 boxes of carpet cleaner make it up to him!

"Magic carpet loves taking baths! I know cuz Jamil's let me take over scrubbing magic carpet down. His fabric gets all covered in bubbles and he gets all relaxed. It's like he's getting a good massage!"

Azul patiently listened—and internally, he boggled at the mental arithmetic. “A little of everything” plus a thank-you gift for every Scarabia student and last-minute carpet cleaner quickly added up to a monstrous sum. He had no doubt that Kalim had fumbled at the cash register, trying to pay for a simple transaction in several thousand thaumark bills.

That’s one part of Kalim-san that won’t be changing anytime soon: his generosity.

If the octopus was lucky, he, too, would be graced with a smidgen of it. But Azul did not think himself a betting man. Every ounce of energy dedicated to the day was to up those odds.

"I see now. I'm glad to hear that the trip went off without any hitches!" Azul gushed. "You've learned so many new things this year--and I know you'll only continue to grow from here on out! I'm most honored to be your peer.

"You're broadening your horizons with each passing day. You're not the same Kalim-san from winter break. No--even back during the cultural festival, I sensed something different in you."

"Gahahah! You remember that." His garnet eyes softened with both fondness and sadness. "VDC was so much fun! It was also the first time I realized... all my life, I've been given everything I've ever wanted. I never really earned it, did I? I got it just for existing."

From the moment he had been born, there had been a silver spoon in his mouth, and he was golden. The future bright, a guarantee for him. Never questioned, never challenged.

His heart quivered.

"I got used to it, and I expected it. I never thought about what would happen if things changed. Then Jamil was picked as a lead vocalist--and I was so happy for him, but also so frustrated with myself. I knew... I couldn't stand at the same level as him. We didn't shine the same.

"Things can never be like they were ever again. Not until I earn that spot for myself! Not until I can stand on my own two feet at shopping and washing carpets and singing! That's my goal: to make my future golden myself."

"Kalim-san..." Azul pursed his lips. A second later, he let his words go. "Are you aware of how diamonds are formed?"

"Hmm? No, why do you ask?"

"Simply put, diamonds are the result of common carbon deposits being exposed to considerable heat and pressure. It takes billions and billions of years to form a single gem... and even then, a diamond is not always perfect. They can be too small, too rough, any number of things which may make it undesirable to consumers--but a diamond is only a diamond because of all the time and energy spent to form it."

Azul smiled, lowering into a bow. "Kalim-san, you are still in the process of becoming a diamond yourself. When that day should finally arrive, you will be a splendid one."

“Azul!!”

His hat and glasses were almost knocked off from the impact of Kalim colliding with him. Arms wrapped around the merman and squeezed, the embrace like a single drop of sun unfurling into a great spotlight.

“Thanks for believing in me!" Kalim cried through watery eyes. "I promise… I promise I’ll make you guys proud!!”

Azul chuckled. "I'll prepare my standing ovation when the time comes. Any plans to enter VDC as well next year?"

"Maybe when my singing's up to snuff! I've gotta cram in lots of practice until then!"

"Ah, yes. Best of luck then--but do let me know if you are ever in need of any musical accompaniment! I play piano quite well if I do say so myself, and I would be more than happy to lend a helping hand to your efforts."

"Gee, thanks, Azul!! You're so kind! I don't know why Jamil tells me to watch out for you. We should totally jam out sometime."

"Fufufu, why indeed..." Azul glanced up, shading his eyes against the sun, and smirked. "Speaking of Jamil-san, we wouldn't want to keep him waiting. I'm sure he has prepared a grand feast in honor of your special day."

"Oh crap, you're right! I gotta get going!!" Kalim scrambled for his broom, handling it like a hot potato. When he had, at last, clumsily mounted it, he cast a look at his classmate. "See you at the party, Azul?"

"I will be there to support you."

"Cool, see you there!"

With only one hand clutching onto the handle, Kalim took off on his broom. Gold and blue sparkles trailed behind him, white petals spiraling in the vortex of magic.

Even he rose higher and higher, Kalim didn't hesitate to look down. Filled with adrenaline--that oh-so-familiar rush, an indescribable feeling--he excitedly waved farewell to his friend.

He was off to see unbelievable sights, to visit dazzling places he never knew, to learn more of them.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Azul Ashengrotto #Kalim Al-Asim #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #something no one asked for #Kalim birthday takeover

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oswildin · 2 months ago

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Thoughts on how the female characters were handled in the Loki show? S2 got a lot of backlash about this and it was notable that there were way more women in leadership roles in S1. But did you see any differences, or even issues with the first season?

I think unfortunately Marvel in general, like most media, struggles with writing women. Poor Wanda & Natasha have been victims of this in the past. But I think it’s particularly difficult in the context of superhero movies because there are so many overused tropes and archetypes for a female character to fall into. (Marvel are better now than they were, most female characters were the damsel in distress or the femme fatale in the early days.)

I agree about the S2 complaints regarding the way their female characters were handled. A lot of them were just there to either drive the plot forward or be the conflict (but it fell flat in most instances). Ravonna deserved far better than what she got, B-15 should’ve played a bigger role, Dox was a weak character, Miss Minutes was in love with Victor/HWR (???) and Sylvie...

I love Sylvie, and I don’t actually mind that she was used for conflict in S2, but the issue was it didn’t expand on any other of her characteristics massively or show us another side of her completely and a lot of people took it for face value (which lies in both an audiences perception and the writing abilities). In S1, she had a glaringly obvious purpose in the plot. S2, however, felt like they were a little like ‘what do we do with her?’ I think Sylvie & Ravonna were the two biggest differences I noticed. But unfortunately, when you change writers, these things will happen because they will have different ideas they want to bring to the table.

I’ve seen a lot of people call Sylvie a ‘Mary Sue’ which I think is a little harsh. People also had an issue with Clara Oswald in Doctor Who for this reason, and I agree to a certain extent in her time with the 11th Doctor, but as soon as she was paired with the 12th Doctor, her character became so much stronger and had more depth. And even then people have issues with Clara’s character because she would push back against the Doctor and challenge him. Sound familiar?

In S2, we got to see glimpses of a ‘happier’ Sylvie, but it was very brief. We also saw her have a more human moment in the bar scene and the record store scene. The record store scene is one of my favourites, because it did so well at showing Sylvie’s life she had created in such subtle ways. We needed to see more of what she was fighting so hard to protect, why she didn’t want to be involved, what the risks were for her. I would’ve personally opened with Sylvie arriving from the Citadel in EP1 and then go to the Loki scene of him running from Mobius his whole time-slipping debacle. And then at the end of the episode where Loki dramatically says ‘we need to find Sylvie’, cut to a scene of her in the bar she had taken Loki to in EP5, conversing with people and embracing her new found home.

Just little details like that were missing for me.

I think dropping the clear story they were trying to portray with Loki & Sylvie in S1 was a bad move. Even if they chose to take it one way or the other, it would’ve been better than just pretending it never happened.

Also, wtf was that with Dox & X-5 in the first EP? That was never explained and B-15 gave such a dirty look to it!!! It’s like, why? Why was that there? Was it to show us they were supposedly close? Was it to add anything to the plot? I just—

Anyway.

I credit a lot of what I enjoy in S1 to Kate Herron. (I don’t know anything about the other writers, but I’ve heard Waldron is a pig so… yeah).

(Also you’re entitled to have your own grievances with the female characters, your own reasons for disliking them or whatever. This is all just my own opinion!💚)

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki series #sylvie laufeydottir #loki mcu #marvel loki #my opinions

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vega-creates-things · 2 years ago

Text

Muse (Part 4)

ROTTMNT Leo x GN/Rabbit Yokai!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Embarrassment, Aged-up Turtles

Synopsis: You've been visiting Run Of The Mill Pizza maybe a little too often just to see the blue clad turtle of your affections and draw him. You're pretty sure he hasn't noticed you at all, bad news for you, he has and he is far too curious about why you watch him.

A/N: Hey all, just letting you know I am so sorry It has been a while since I wrote anything for this fic. I’ve just been super busy and stressed from job hunting, so I haven’t had the time and also just…. I haven’t been in the mindset to do anything but drink coffee and stay up way later than I should doing nothing but staring at a ceiling lol- but I digress. This is a repost from my old side blog since I wanted to make a main blog for this stuff. This is maybe going to be the second last chapter (that’s up for debate lmao). Now that all that is out of the way, shall we?

♡♡♡

Fidgeting nervously as you stop walking for what feels like the first time in hours, you pull your phone from your jacket pocket and click it on, going back and checking your last few messages with Leo.

Cobalt Blue: Hey, just a reminder, meet me at the brick store

Cobalt Blue: Shit, sorry, had voice to text on 🙄

You: THE BRICK STORE.

Cobalt Blue: Is that even a thing?

You: Does Home Hardware count?

Cobalt Blue: Donnie says no. I say yes.

You: Gotcha… Where am I meeting you then, if not the BRICK STORE.

Cobalt Blue: Central Park, the popcorn cart.

You: There’s a popcorn cart called Central Park? 🤔

You: I jest. I’ll meet you there.

Cobalt Blue: Awesome! 4:00?

You: Four o’clock.

Cobalt Blue: See you then!!!

Tucking your phone back away after you reconfirm the location you were meeting each other, you look around the area you’re in, wondering if you were close to the popcorn cart at all, giving the air a subtle sniff to see if you could even smell it, thankfully, due to your improved sense of smell, you catch the faintest hint of butter and fresh popcorn, swiftly heading in the direction it had come from.

Once you’re on the path, it doesn’t take too long to get there, and, as luck would have it, you got there before Leo did- or at least that was what you thought before you heard him offer a bemused chuckle to your right. Startled, you look over to the opposite side of the cart and blink in surprise at the turtle who is dressed in distressed black jeans with matching black undershirt that is form fitted to his torso and then to top it all off a fur lined brown leather jacket and a beanie. He looked… amazing. You could feel your fingers twitch with the desire to draw. You resist the urge to pull your sketchbook out of your messenger bag.

Leo beams at you and makes quick work of crossing over to where you were stood, dumbfounded. “What a pleasure it is for you to join me.” He offers teasingly, lightly nudging you with his elbow as a cocksure grin spreads across his face. “And only— twenty minutes late.” He tutted, completely pulling that number out of thin air, and yet you still nearly check your phone- the action causing his expression to become even more smug.

Instinctively, you punch him gently in the arm, rolling your eyes before offering him a faint smile. “It’s ten to four, you ass.” You chuckle. “I’m punctual.” You insist. “And you’re a lot earlier than I thought you would be— I didn’t strike you for showing up early to things-“ You muse, noting how he had started walking already so you quickly catch up with him, intrigue painting your features since all you knew about this evening was that you were to meet here.

“I’m early when it’s important to me…” He offers nonchalantly, refusing to meet your eyes, even when you stop moving again, he simply stops and waits for you to catch up. When you do, he already has his bravado back up and that stupid smug grin again. “So, I was thinking, maybe we walk around here a bit, then go to the art exhibit? I hear they’re staying open later than usual today?”

“Leo-“ you begin, stuck on him calling this important to himself. You furrow your brow, lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder. To get him to at least look at you. You hardly register that he is still listing off different things the two of you could be doing today. “Leo.” You try again, noting how he seems to only scramble for more things to list off.

“We could go try out the coffee at the new cafe that just opened up? Go to the art store? I’ll get you any one item you waaaant? Something in the hidden city- we could watch the Battle nexus? You know I won that with my dad once- we were up against Kraken Tom and the Evil Six. No? Yeah, I knew that wasn’t your thing… We could-“

This time you cut him off by walking in front of him, having had to do a quick jog to do so, and then you gently grasp him by his shoulders, forcing him to stay in place. He still refuses to look at you, his eyes locked on the ground between you both. Hesitating, you step a little closer, shifting your weight onto your toes so you can stand a little taller, nudging his face up with your hand so you can look at him. For the first time you see a nervous edge to him and even despite his efforts to keep his eyes from meeting yours, it’s inevitable. You swallow thickly, taking in a sharp breath. “What has gotten into you, Leo?” You inquire, tilting your head again. “I’ve never seen you get like this before- you’re usually “mister cool”.“ You try to explain, wondering just why it seemed like him calling this whole meet up “important” to him, seemed to be the catalyst for his suddenly jumpy behaviour.

Instead of explaining, he offers a weak chuckle. “Answer hazy, try back again later?” He offers the magic eight ball quote casually. The moment Leo sees you frown, he sighs. “Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you lightly brush your thumb along his cheek pausing when you see him lean into the action. You stop the simple motion and let him press his cheek firmly into your soft hand. “What did you mean when you said this was important to you? And why all of the jumpy behaviour?” You ask, noting that since you’ve stopped in the middle of the pathway there are people giving you annoyed looks. Taking that into account, you do your best to guide Leo with you onto the grass, trying not to break contact with him.

“I dunno.” He shrugs, trying instantly to force a smile. You respond with a serious expression and he instantly lets the expression drop as he pulls back and crosses his arms, taking a step away to try and centre himself for the conversation. It takes a moment, but soon he is facing you again. “Look, I just… really enjoy being around you- I can’t help it if I got excited and jumped the gun on showing up.” He offers, and, well, it wasn’t exactly the response you expected, nor did it entirely make sense, but it was close enough for now. “Aaaaand, I’m not being “jumpy” that’s your job. You’re the rabbit, here.” He sticks his tongue out.

Offering a light chuckle, you sigh. Clearly, you won’t be getting the real answer right now, but, to be fair you still had never answered his question about your sketchbook, though in the time you had gotten to know him, you were painfully aware of how observant he was, so the idea that he somehow DIDN’T know, and was just waiting for you to be open about it was almost hard to believe now. You still let yourself believe it though. “I’ll let it slide this time.” You muse, gently nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder in a lighthearted fashion. “Now, you said something about buying me “any one item” from the art store?” You reminded, smirking at the way his expression went from relief at you dropping the topic to instant surprise.

Chuckling timidly and rubbing the back of his neck, Leo gives you a crooked grin and murmurs, “IIIIIII didn’t think you were paying attention-“ blowing out a small breath of air, he shakes his head. “Art store it is?” He inquires, watching you with a gentle fondness as you carefully adjust how your ears are sitting under your own beanie- carefully drawn back to almost mimic medium length hair.

You link arms with him, allowing yourself to be cheerful about the evening ahead of you again, you hum in reply, having gotten your ears situated to your liking. “I think they actually closed a few minutes ago- if I’m remembering correctly. You can buy me a coffee though? You said a new cafe opened?” You muse, knowing full well the store hadn’t closed, but you would honestly rather sit with him drinking coffee over anything else right now. Just getting to sit and talk together would be nice.

Leo nods, already guiding you back onto the pathway to walk with him. “I can definitely do that, it’s not too far away actually-“

“Almost like you planned it.” You tease, casting him a playful look. “Or like you knew how much I love coffee and would never say no to getting some.” You add sweetly, batting your lashes up at him.

Laughing whole heartedly, Leo gently squeezes the arm you have locked with his and shakes his head. “Maybe the last option, I don’t normally plan things too far ahead- that’s Donnie’s whole shtik.” He muses, splaying his fingers out and wiggling them slightly to emphasize his words. The moment you start giggling, he can’t help but lean towards you, using his free hand to gently squeeze the shoulder not pressed against his plastron as he chuckles along with you. He releases you pretty quickly, but it isn’t sudden, it’s more that he was satisfied with the length of the makeshift hug- plus the awkward position. “So are we playing guess the coffee?” He inquires.

“You bet your ass we are!”

The author isn’t good at writing walking exposition so time skip baybeeee

This was it. Your chance to stump Leo. Stepping up to the counter first while Leo stood off to the side so he couldn’t overhear you, (his order for you already in hand) you lock eyes with the barista who nearly backs up at the intensity of your gaze, having never experienced it’s intensity before like the employees at your favourite coffee shop normally had. “Medium hazelnut latte with a shot of vanilla and a shot of espresso.” You state as if it weren’t even a question.

The woman nods, dipping her head slightly as she attempts and succeeds to input your order before looking at you. “Anything else?” She inquires, voice a little too low for most people to hear, but for you it was easy.

“Yes, two cake pops. One strawberry, one chocolate.” You insist, watching her input that as well before she lists off the price and then instantly nudges the payment terminal over to you once you had pulled out your card to show it to her. You tap it against the chip reader and then fish out a five dollar bill, putting it into the tip jar for her with a calmer smile that seemingly throws her off. “Thank you!” You muse, accepting the order ticket as well as the bag of cake pops she had promptly handed you before stepping to the side to wait for the drink.

You glance at where Leo is leaned up against a wall, and gave him a thumbs up which he returns enthusiastically. Turning your attention to your bag, you dug your hand into one of the front pouches and pull out a sharpie so that you can cross out what the order was on the sticker once you receive the coffee.

While you wait, you look around. The walls are decorated with a rich terracotta wallpaper, the floors a deep, almost chocolate brown, wood alternating parquet. There were potted plants strewn about the room, some hanging from the ceiling, others neatly decorating windowsills where enough light poured through to reach them. There were a few bookshelves that matched the colour of the floor and were set up to divide the space- they were filled with books and magazines. It was all in all a very cozy space and all you could think was that it would make the perfect place to come every morning and relax- maybe do some art studies.

“-order number 317?”

You glance at the ticket in your hand, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and then perk, walking over and thanking the person who had made the coffee before stepping aside and scratching out the order on the sticker and throwing out your receipt. Wandering over to Leo, you noticed he seemed to be doing what you had just moments before. “It’s really cozy in here. Great location, Leo.” You comment, nudging his hand gently to let him know you were ready to swap drinks.

Perking, Leo nods in agreement, gesturing to the nearest empty table which was settled near the back of the cafe, tucked into a corner next to the window. “We swap over there, that way you can put your stuff down and we can get comfy— wait, did you get us a snack too??” He inquires, tone drastically shifting to pure excitement by the end of his sentence.

You nod, letting him practically herd you to the table. You laugh, noticing some of the amused stares and chuckles you got from other patrons, deciding to humour them by shrugging and grinning. “He’s food motivated.” You offer playfully, earning a bit more laughter. “Like a puppy.” You hum, glancing at the turtle in question as you sit down in the chair he had pulled out for you.

“M’rabbit.” He offers, trying to sound suave, but grimacing almost immediately. “That doesn’t sound as flow-y as “m’lady” he mused, scrunching his face up in displeasure before backtracking to what you had offhandedly said, “the cutest puppy though.” He grins, sitting in the chair across from you and setting down the brown takeaway cup in front of you while you did the same with the one you had.

You nod sagely to his statement, noting how haphazardly he had scratched out what his order had been with a pen he had no doubt asked to borrow from the barista. “Something like that.” You muse with a half smirk, pulling out both cake pops with flare. “Chocolate or strawberry?” You offer, noting the way he seemed to contemplate before answering.

“Chocolate, of course.”

“Strawberry, got it.”

“Exactly. See? You get it.”

“Mhmm, I know you so well.”

Grinning, Leo accepts the chocolate cake pop you hold out to him, observing it for a moment before- in contrast to your own actions- shoving the whole thing into his mouth at once, and almost looking like he regretted that decision instantly.

Taking the time to eat yours calmly in two bites instead of one as your counterpart had done, you have less of a struggle. “You’re such a goober.” You claim, a fond note to your voice as you observe him trying to get the cake pop down. Deciding to be nice, you get up for a moment, walking to the counter where there is a self serve water jug, filling two glasses before returning, handing one over to Leo before you set yours down.

He drinks it almost immediately, the liquid helping to break down the snack and then he is gasping for air. “You are a life saver,” he insists, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a moment he murmurs something about being too warm, and slips his jacket off, laying it over the back of his chair. This, of course, leaves his muscular arms exposed for your viewing pleasure, not something he had considered, but its obvious that he notices your gaze lingering a little too long. He smirks. “Are you checking me out?” He inquires, playfully wiggling his brow before striking a few poses.

An instant laugh leaves you at his actions, though you can’t help but feel your face heat up from being caught red handed. “No! I just didn’t realize how ripped you are! It’s a little startling!” You muse, starting to play with one of your ears by running your hands down it to smooth the fur there. “I mean— I know you’re strong, you’d have to be to have beaten Kraken Tom and such, but it’s still a little startling.”

“So you heard EVERYTHING I was rambling earlier?!” He inquires in disbelief.

“I listen when it’s important.” You counter, noting the moment it takes for him to process what you had said and how you had somewhat turned his earlier words back on him. “And everything you say is important to me.” With that said, you pull the plastic splash pick from the opening of your cup and put it into the paper bag your cake pops had been in. Taking a moment to carefully swirl your coffee just in case it hadn’t been mixed properly (something you had dealt with from multiple coffee shops in the past) you focus your attention on finally trying the drink. Sipping tentatively at it for fear that it was still too hot, you took a moment to savour the flavour, setting the cup down again.

Leo watches you with a flushed face, your words still ringing in his tympani. He cast his gaze towards his own coffee, following suit in swirling it around to mix it and then removing the pick from his own cup and discarding it much the same as you had done with your own. He seems to think for a moment before speaking up with a more amused tone than you would have expected, “everything I say?” He inquires mischievously.

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him, realizing you had perhaps made a mistake by saying that.

“What about if I said applesauce belongs on dino nuggies?”

“I’m going to kick you.”

“Do it, coward. You won’t.”

Instantly you straightened in your seat, making direct eye contact with the slider as you gently kick him in the shin. Afterwards, you level your expression to a bemused and almost mocking grin. “What was that about me not doing it?” You chime in a sickeningly sweet tone.

The slider narrows his eyes back, watching you sip your drink and waiting for you to set it back down before he returns the gentle kick. “Ohoho, you’ve done it now.” He retorts with no malice at all behind his words.

It only takes a moment longer for the battle of gentle kicks to come to full effect and neither of you seem to care that your legs will be bruised after this. You’re having a little too much fun despite everything, but after a few minutes more, the kicks begin to stop, and without even realizing it, your actions become more gentle and more along the lines of playing footsies with each other, your foot brushing lightly over his ankle and his gently nudging you in return.

It’s only when you’ve been staring far too intently at each other, that you move to reign yourself in, face heating with a warm blush as you quickly cease your actions and sip your coffee again. “So- um… I definitely taste cinnamon in here-“ you begin, forcing yourself to focus on deciphering this instead of focusing on how absolutely smitten Leo looks.

Blinking himself out of his stupor, Leo clears his throat and stretches by rolling his shoulders before leaning back on the table, his arms crossed as he watched you. “Hmm? Oh- oh. Yeah. Cinnamon.” He nods, glancing down at his cup again before returning his gaze to you as he waits for you to decipher the drink.

“Cinnamon chai latte with whip?” You inquire, forcing your brain to stay on track. When did it get this hard to focus on anything but him? Seriously. You knew you liked him, but you needed to control yourself, lest you spring forward and kiss him right then and there.

Leo nods, humming in a way that seems somewhat forced and yet resolute. “I don’t get how you’re so good at this. How did you guess that? I didn’t think chai tea would be that obvious.” He asks, curiosity bubbling in him despite the obvious lack of focus he currently seems to have.

You shrug, resting your elbows on the wooden table top and twining your fingers together so that you can rest your chin on them. “I noticed the slight flavour of pepper and ginger— it has that sort of bite to it that lines up with chai.” You inform, pausing to chuckle slightly. “Also when you say “chai tea” you’re technically saying “tea tea”. Just a fun fact.”

Snorting in amusement, Leo stares at you in bewilderment. “I will never understand how you fit so much smarts into that head of yours.” He sips his own drink momentarily, looking contemplative before quickly speaking again. “So you’d just call it chai then?” He inquired, watching you nod to confirm before he is sampling his drink again. “Tastes a bit nutty- so thinking about the kinds they normally use to make drinks…. Hazelnut?”

“Mhmmm-“ You hum openly, inviting him to continue his train of thought.

He takes another sip, really trying to get a feel for it, even closing his eyes as he does. “I’m also getting—“ He brings the cup to his nose and gives it a few sniffs. “Vanilla?” He looks to you for confirmation, and once he has it he gets right back to work. “Hazelnut and vanilla… mhmm. M’kay. M’kay- espresso-?” Leo is incredibly focused, and the expression he makes while trying to figure it out is so cute you almost cave and pull your sketchbook out to draw it, but you hold yourself back as he finally seems to come to a conclusion. “Hazelnut latte with espresso and vanilla?”

You smile gently and clap for him. “You got it!” The confirmation causes him to light up as he opens his eyes again, locking gazes with you as one of his hands reaches out and firmly squeezes yours for a second before he pulls it back.

After the game is over, you both fall into comfortable silence with each other, both of you leaving one hand on the table in silent invitation to the other as you pick your different methods of filling up time when you’re not quietly chatting.

Leo surfs his phone, you take to absently drawing on your napkin with a pen you had fished out of your bag, not wanting to risk using your sketchbook here and now. It’s calm, relaxing, and you can’t help but smile every time the slider gets excited over something he sees and quickly shows you it.

It’s during one of those moments when he rests his hand over your free one to get your attention, that he notices that you’re drawing a little picture of him and things start fully connecting in his head, but he says nothing, focusing on the task at hand and redirecting his gaze to your face just in time to catch you looking at him inquisitively. “Did you know there’s a breed of goat that faint whenever they hear a loud noise? Just-“ he makes a big open gesture with his arms, breaking contact with you as he speaks, “-BAM! Goat down!” He grins.

Smiling instantly, you can’t help but chuckle at his theatrics. “I didn’t know that, that’s pretty funny though. Is there a video?” You inquire, tilting your head and then nearly squeaking in surprise at the sudden speed he uses to get up and stand directly beside you. You nearly miss the way he excitedly mumbles something about being “so glad you asked”.

The moment he is properly situated behind you, he rests his head on your shoulder and slips his arms around you so he can hold his phone on the table in front of you both. You don’t mention how you could hold the phone for him, too caught up in his warmth. He glides his thumb across the screen, hunting down what you assume is the video at the top of the article, and then once he has it, he clicks play.

The video is short, less than a minute long but it shows a man clapping and the goat fainting which causes the both of you to laugh at first, and then the questions start springing forth.

“Do you think it hurts them to faint like that?” You begin. “What causes it to happen?” You ask, leaning yourself back against Leo’s plastron until he finally pulls away, presumably to pull up the information you’re looking for. He doesn’t move far, just sort of adjusts his position so he can easily lean against your chair with one hand and hold his phone in the other, typing the question in quickly.

After a moment of waiting for the results to load, he hums and starts reading, “the Tennessee fainting goat breed has a hereditary condition called myotonia congenita—“ he begins, grumbling to himself a bit as he tries to focus on reading the sentence before finally shaking his head and handing you the phone so you can read it. “I keep wanting to read the same thing over and over-“

You nod in understanding, taking his phone carefully as he settles back in behind you, this time using your head as a chin rest. “The Tennessee fainting goat breed has a hereditary condition called myotonia congenita, a disorder that affects the skeletal muscles, which are used for movement.” You read calmly, pausing to frown and click something else related to that. “Many people wonder if it hurts the goat to faint, but rest assured, they’re not in pain. However their condition does have the potential to distress them because it can keep them from running away from things that frighten them. So avoid frightening them just to see them faint.” By the time you’re done reading, the both of you are frowning. “I feel like an asshole for laughing now-“

Leo nods in agreement. “Yeah… but, I mean- If it helps, we had no idea until we looked it up. In reality the guy that made the video is the asshole.”

You hum in response, still frowning. Leo pockets his phone and then brings you into a big hug and almost instantly you’re filled with a sense of comfort and calming. You find yourself leaning back into him heavily, just like earlier. “Thanks.” You mumble.

Leo nods, giving you one more big squeeze before he moves to sit back down. “Anything for you.” He replies without missing a beat, polishing his coffee off before resting his hand on yours again to still provide reassurance.

“Cheeseball.” You reply lightheartedly, turning your hand to softly squeeze his in response.

Leo smiles and dips his head in half bow, quickly glancing up at you. “The cheesiest.” He insists, thumb tracing gentle patterns over your knuckles. Pausing, the slider frowns, his phone beginning to buzz. Glancing down at the device with disdain, he checks the caller ID and sighs, giving you an apologetic look only for you to shake your head and gesture for him to answer it, assuming it’s probably one of his siblings.

He frowns a bit more, but gives in and nods, picking his phone up and answering the call, stepping away somewhat before he starts talking.

You can’t help but listen in after a few minutes, having noticed the exasperated l pinch to Leo’s face as he talks to whoever it was. You feel a little guilty, but you chalk your nosiness up to concern about his emotional wellbeing.

“Guys, I told you not to call me right now-“ he grunts, rolling his eyes as he listens in on what the person- or persons? Are saying in response. “No- you know said today was important— No! I wasn’t joking. UGH. Raph- Raph, no.”

Quirking your brow ridge slightly, you can’t help but wish your hearing was better so you could have an even better grasp on this conversation— even if you know it’s probably not good to be listening in, in the first place. You try and distract yourself, going back to sketching to keep your attention in a more respectful place of not eavesdropping.

After a few minutes more, Leo comes back to the table and sits down again, grumbling as he sets his phone down after presumably putting it on ‘Do Not Disturb’. “Sorry about that- my brother’s forgot that I was going out tot day and were freaking out— and then they wouldn’t hang up.” He muses, noting that you were doodling again, this time around, though, he leans forward to get a good look. “Who are you drawing?” He inquires, still trying to get a better look.

Shaking your head, you let out a calm hum, nudging the napkin over to him so he can see. “Sounds like a chaotic time. I’m sure they were just worried though.” You muse, resting a hand under your chin as the calm washes over you again. “Just some characters I’ve been thinking up- silly really.” You shrug, finishing your coffee as you watch him pour over the drawings.

“Yeah, I know they were just worrying, but I wish they would listen when I tell them things sometimes- I mean… seriously… It’s not like I didn’t tell them I was going out. I did! Three times!” He huffs, getting frustrated for a moment before he shakes his head and dispels that energy, choosing to focus on what you had said about the drawing. “You thought these up? They’re so cute. They look like they could be in a children’s book.” He insists, tracing his fingers over one of the designs.

Sensing the first conversation wouldn’t be going anywhere further, you mostly set it aside, but not before saying gently, “I mean, you did say you guys never usually go too many places without each other, maybe they just assumed you hadn’t because they didn’t I don’t know- I can’t really speak for them since I don’t know much about them.” You chew the inside of your cheek gently, leg bouncing. “Anyway though— umm… yeah I actually want to make kids books, still in the starting part though.”

He nods, running a hand over his face, nearly shifting the blue eye mask out of place. “You’ve got a point, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He pouts, tapping his fingers on the table. “So, you should tell me about the book idea you have.” He points out, stretching his hand across the table to take your hand in his own again.

Biting your lip, you try and reign your thoughts in, looking at the tabletop for the time being until you begin to speak again, telling him all about your idea in as much detail as you can, though, for the moment, you mostly have details about the characters, and you can just tell by the look on Leo’s face that he is enthralled and enamoured with the idea which makes you feel a lot more confident about sharing this with him. You had been working on this for forever at this point and had never actually shared it with anyone.

By the time you’re done speaking, Leo is practically bouncing. “I love the characters, especially Leaf! He’s so precious— and his favourite thing being stamp collecting?? It’s such a nerdy hobby, but its really cute to think about a leaf having a stamp collection! What if Shooting Star got him stamps from space!?” He gushes, visibly bouncing in his seat— it was almost like he was vibrating.

Giggling in response, you shake your head, smiling fondly and briefly glancing to the side at one of the potted plants by the counter in thought before you returned your gaze to the turtle. “I’m glad you enjoy it so far.” You begin, “maybe you’d want to help me with it a bit— you know, go over what I have eventually? I think any input you could give me would be really helpful.”

Leo blinks in surprise and then gets flustered, chuckling as he looks out the window at the people passing by. “I don’t know if I would be much help— art is more my brother Mikey’s thing, you know?” He admits. “But. I’m happy to look at everything!”

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand gently. “I think you’d give me great advice, even if it’s not your strength, I mean just letting me know if you like it helps, or mentioning if something looks like it should be different- even if you don’t know what it is.” Tracing a small heart into the back of his hand absently, you shrug. “-but if you’re honestly not comfortable with that, I won’t force you.”

Mulling it over, he hums and returns the gentle gesture of squeezing your hand. “I mean, I guess I could, I mean the idea of being the only person looking it over is pretty cool!”

You’re about to speak when he suddenly nods and chimes in again.

“Yeah, you know what. I’ll do it. If it would make you happy, I’ll do it.”

—

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#tmnt muse fic #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #leonardo hamato #leo x reader #rise leo #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #rise leo x reader #fan fiction

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seenoversundown · 1 year ago

Text

Spooks & Cider

Daniel X Melody (OC)

Warnings : just fluff! Subtle nods to anxiety. Word count : 2.1k

She’s In Love With The Boy - Trisha Yearwood “She’s in love with the boy, And even if they have to run away, she’s gonna marry that boy someday”

Melody POV

I sit with my face pressed to the window that faces our family driveway, my hot breath fogging up the glass every time I take a breath.

“Be careful tonight, mi amor!” My mom yells from the kitchen, the sounds of pots clanging together following behind her soft voice. “Remember, eleven thirty! No later, Melody.”

“Yes, Mamà.” I replied, continuing to stare out the window for his headlights.

My best friend, Daniel, was on his way to get me for a haunted house. We’ve been close since grade school, but this past year there’s been a shift with us. I’ve always thought that Daniel was cute, I couldn’t have imagined he felt the same way. So tonight was a first for us, a date you could call it. The first outing since we’ve told each other how we feel.

I really like you, Melody. More than anything else in the world, I think. Daniel’s words ran in my head like they were practicing for a marathon. I welcomed every round.

My heart pounded against my chest as I watched his headlights turn into the driveway. Grabbing the sweater my mom is forcing me to take, I shout a quick bye! as I'm running out the door towards Daniel’s truck. Hopping into his passenger seat I can’t help but grin back at his soft, lazy smile.

“Hi, Ducky,” he says as I buckle my seatbelt in. “I hope you’re ready for tonight.”

“So ready!” I responded.

I was not ready. I knew this, Daniel knew this. For our entire friendship I’ve never been one for scary things, I jumped when a piece of fuzz I was unaware of invaded my vision.

So, a haunted house? Not great.

Spending time one on one with Daniel? My favorite thing in the whole world.

I watch as his hand reaches across the console to the radio, putting on one of our favorite songs.

“Are you sure you’re ready, Ducky?” His eyes shot over to me, “you don’t have to lie.”

“Scouts honor,” I reply as I try to put on a brave face. The car fills with the echoes of Daniel’s laughter. Guess I didn't look as brave as I thought.

Daniel takes a couple more turns through our foggy neighborhood until we reach a parking lot filled with other victims for tonight’s festivities. We hop out of our respective sides of the car and I immediately pull my arms around me. The sinister music and screams from the house are wafting in the air.

Before I can think twice I untie the sweater from around my waist, mamà knows best, and ruin my outfit by putting it on. My eyes are wide as I look around while we wait in line. I can’t see much, but I don’t trust that they didn’t put actors in line with us for a little pre show scare. A large, warm hand grabs onto mine and gives it a firm squeeze. A yelp escapes my lips.

“It’s not too late to go and do something else, Melody.” Daniel says while giving my hand a couple more reassuring squeezes. Standing in line our height differences are much more noticeable, I practically have to throw my head back to make eye contact.

“No. We’re here and we said we wanted to do some spooky shit this season, so we’re doing it.”

He locks our fingers together sending shockwaves throughout my body.

“Alright then, Ducky. Let’s do this.”

Past the entrance gates, we enter an open field. The main attraction, The Killer Barber, sits on our right. To the left of us are some small vendors filled with hot chocolate and apple crisp to warm us on this chilly New England night.

“What do you want to do first?” Daniel asks. “Get spooked first, then hot chocolate as a reward for making it through? Apple crisp is happening no matter what.”

I grin at him, “I swear you can read my mind.”

Hand in hand we start walking towards the house.

“I can’t believe we’re in our senior year,” he says. “Wait, we’re still doing matching halloween costumes right?”

I can’t contain my laughter, he’s always been a bit scatterbrained.

“As if anyone else could be the Gomez to my Morticia.” I give his hand a squeeze and watch as a small smile flashes across his lips. “If anything, senior year is about to be our bitch.”

We haven’t struggled with finding other friends at school, but it’s clear we always move as one. Since we were young it’s always been Daniel and Melody. Our parents accepted we were attached at the hip, and I think mamà has always secretly hoped we’d end up together. She’s liked Daniel since the start, but when he started to learn Spanish she was downright sold on him.

When will you bring Daniel around?

Call Daniel for dinner, I’m making his favorite.

Can you just marry Daniel?

Okay, maybe she didn’t ask me the last question- but a girl can dream. The thought of being Mrs. Daniel Wagner had always set off a horde of bees in my stomach. Not butterflies, those seem too tame. Full blown bees.

“Earth to Ducky?” We’re next.” Daniel’s fingers are snapping in front of me, effectively bringing me back to reality.

The Killer Barber. Yaaaaay.

The attendant smiles weakly at us before waving us in.

As soon as we pass the threshold a door slams and a voice shouts “Come for a shave, have ye?”

Daniel laughs, fully enthralled. I, on the other hand, find his arm and grip it tightly with my freehand close to my body.

“I’ve got you, Melody.” He says reassuringly.

“Let’s ju-just get th-through this,” I stutter. I can feel my anxiety peaking. Looking at Daniel I know he knows this too. He moves me so that I'm directly behind him, my tall shield to whatever lies ahead.

My eyes are screwed shut, trusting Daniel won’t walk me into any walls. I don’t know how anyone walks through these, the sounds are enough to send me running.

“I promise, it’ll be the closest shave you’ll ever have.” A voice says a few moments later. I swear I feel the hot breath on my ear which causes me to scream.

“Ducky, you gotta not look so scared, they look for that.” Daniel says.

“What do you mean not look so scared?” I shout. “Next time we’re apple picking and making a goddamned pie. None of this haunted house shit!”

I feel the laugh rumble through him before I hear it, and I can’t help but laugh along too. Before I know it we’re hitting the final room. I peek out from behind him and am amazed at the scene unfolding in front of me. It’s gory, of course, but seeing how someone had changed this into a super scary scene is astounding. A face pops up at me while wielding a straight razor. I can’t help but gasp and tuck myself into Daniel’s laugh.

“A couple more steps.” His voice vibrates his whole chest, I can’t help but snuggle in closer.

Relief floods my veins when I realize he wasn’t lying, I feel the cool night breeze on my ears. I’m still gripping the back of his shirt when I feel him laughing.

“You can let go, Ducky. We’ve made it.” I feel his hands reach back and try to loosen my grip. He spins around to look at me once he’s finally free, a giant grin stretched across his face. Daniel quickly pulls me in, the scent of his fresh laundry and incense he burns in his room surrounds me. I bury my face into his chest, the smell seemingly stronger here. I feel his hand rest on the back of my head, tangling with my curls.

“I knew you could do it.” He says as he rests his head on mine. “You’re a strong girl, y’know.” I swear I feel his lips press to my forehead for a moment before moving back into place. We stay like this for a moment longer in the chaos of everything.

Finally parting, I can’t help the smile on my face even though I just got scared shitless. Pulling on his hand, I started dragging him towards our reward.

“Let’s go, Daniel! Hot chocolate and crisp is calling our name!”

Our laughter echoes behind us as we break off into a sprint towards the concession stands. He intertwines our fingers, and somehow takes over leading us.

“Those long legs are so unfair!” I laugh-shout.

“Grow taller then, Ducky!”

Reaching the concessions stand the smell of chocolate and warm apples fill the air. I can’t help but get excited for our little treat.

“Pick a seat, I’ll grab our treats.”

A quick squeeze back and forth of our hands before we part. Finding an empty picnic table turned out to be quite easy. I take a seat on the opposite side so I can watch Daniel in line. His tall lanky stature is illuminated by the small surrounding lights. His long curly hair almost looked like a halo around his head, so wild and free.

It’s a quick moment before he turns around with his hands full. Long legs taking long strides until they finally reach me. Placing our goodies on the table he takes the seat opposite mine. Placing a small white cup in front of me, I almost tear it out of his hands. I'm so excited for this.

Taking the top off of my cup, I’m delighted to find a mound of whip cream.

“What’d you think, I’d forget how you take your hot chocolate?” He says from across the table. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant whipped cream with a side of hot chocolate.”

“Now we’re judging my hot chocolate order?” I cross my arms and throw a pout his way.

“Never would I ever,” he says. “It’s cute like you.” Daniel moves quickly and sticks a single finger into my whipped cream and then sets it on my nose.

“Hey! That’s a waste of the goods!”

Daniel says nothing, just stands in his seat, leans over, and quickly licks the whipped cream from my nose.

“Not wasted,” he says with a wink.

My face immediately gets hot. I break into the apple crisp. The gooey cinnamon apple oatmeal mixture steams from the container and makes my stomach rumble. The smell is otherworldly. I quickly hand a spoon to Daniel.

Holding my spoon out I wait for him to do the same.

“Cheers!” We say in unison.

It’s quiet for the next few minutes as we devour our treat. As we finish up Daniel collects our trash and I look at my phone, 11:00 shines back on my screen.

“You ready to go, Ducky?” He comes up from behind me and startles me a little bit.

“Absolutely.”

Our hands clasp and our walk back to the car is quiet. Daniel comes to my side and opens my door for me, and my face runs hot again. I watch as he walks over to his side and climbs into the driver's side.

It takes us a few moments, but once we finally get out onto the road, he settles his hand onto my thigh.

“This okay?” He asks while taking quick glances at me. I rest my hand on top of his, a silent yes. His hand gets tighter on my thigh and the bees in my chest become frantic.

My porch light slowly comes into view and my heart constricts at the fact that this night is coming to an end. Daniel pulls into my driveway and shuts off his lights. He hops out of his side and quickly rounds to mine.

“I had a really good time tonight, Ducky.” He says while helping me out of the truck. “Next time, nothing scary. Just us, I promise.”

Daniel’s hand invades my vision and pushes back my curly hair. Suddenly I can only focus on the scorching heat coming from his palm while it rests on my chin. Looking up at him, I can’t help but lean in. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for years, but now that it’s finally here it feels surreal.

When our lips finally touch I swear I hear fireworks going off. People cheering. A whole ass explosion.

I wrap my arms around his waist as he cradles my head in both of his hands. His soft lips are even more plush than they were in my dreams.

He pulls back too soon, peppering my lips with small kisses before finally ceasing.

“Melody, you are everything. Get inside so you don’t get grounded. I’ll text you when I’m home.” A final kiss is pressed to my lips before we separate. The walk to my front door is hazy. I turn and watch as he pulls out of the driveway, waving before he gets out of view.

“Mi amor, how was your date?” My mamà asks when I enter the door.

“Oh, mamà, it was everything.”

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