#there's a lot of rhetoric about John that makes me squint a little too

[mayasaura]

Jod is a walking tragedy. He's not justified, and he's not justifiable, and his ten thousand year long rampage of revenge is fucked all the way up, but he's not an evil caricature, and he's certainly not devoid of human emotion and soft feelings.

I'm not sure I agree with your reading on Alecto, mostly because of this passage here:

It seems to me that she has some mixed feelings, including some regrets.

I think we sometimes forget that while John might be the first necromancer, he didn't start down that path of his own initiative. He didn't go looking for the power to kill the solar system. It was given to him, with no instructions, no explanation, and no guidance. When he reached out to Alecto for help in his moment of crisis, she didn't answer, or couldn't answer, or couldn't answer in a way he could understand.

Alecto wasn't happy, before she was entombed. (I want to know why she was angry./She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left./There she was; John had made her so ugly, so unbearably ugly.) But she had agency in the sequence of events leading up to her first death, and whatever her regrets, she loved John.

She still loves John. Alecto—the world—loved John past their mutual destruction, and John loved the world. The whole of Nona the Ninth—the whole of it, not just the segment on New Rho—hinges on love. Trying to exclude John from that narrative for the horror of it kind of misses the point.

Fellow members of TLT fandom, can we just take Jod for the complex anti-hero half-villain he is and hate his current actions without feeling the need to hate on his past? Because yup the man did awful things with the nuke, but last time I checked the ancestors of BoE killed all of John’s friends and left Earth to die, and Earth’s only regret is not being part of a perfect Lyctorhood, but she seemed quite cool with John’s use of necromancy so far.

I mean, Jod is not a hero and I am not here to say we should treat him as a poor little meow meow, but Tamsyn Muir did not spend a whole book writing him as he mourned over his dreams and his friends so that we could reduce him to just the evil guy.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 25

A/N: So this chapter begins the first mention of COVID-19 for the story.  I know it’s not much but I did want to put a little disclaimer because I know it was a traumatic event for many people, especially those who were affected by it personally.  We will obviously get deeper into it as the story progresses in the next chapters (judging by the date...it’s time!) 

Also, no @’ing me about what happens here with a certain someone.

March 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was paying attention to the news at the airport.

“While the first case of what epidemiologists are referring to as COVID-19 was recorded in Toronto on January 25th, the novel coronavirus is still baffling some scientists in terms of its symptoms.  They range from severe in some, to completely asymptomatic in others.  While there are currently less than twenty cases in Toronto thus far, Ontario health officials have recorded three news cases today.  One is a man in his 60s who returned on a flight from Egypt, while the other two are women in their 60s and 70s returning on a flight from Egypt.  Public health officials are encouraging individuals to wash their hands frequently and exercise caution whenever and wherever possible.”

“Want some hand sanitizer?” John asked from beside her.  He was laid out in the chair beside her while her knees were against her chest.

She nodded, leaving her bag of pretzels in her lap before she extended her hand and he squirted some Purell onto her hand.  John always had everything readily available – hand sanitizer, band aids, healthy granola bars, breath mints – she was sure he probably had a spare hair elastic in his backpack too, and a full surgery kit for all she knew.  She rubbed the sanitizer in between her hands.  “What do you think about all this?” she asked, motioning towards the TV monitor.

John shrugged.  “I’m a bit nervous about it,” he admitted.  “I know that Aryne is taking some extra precautions with Jace.  A lot of her friends from Queen’s ended up going to med school so she’s friends with a lot of doctors and listening to their advice.”

“I guess we should all be.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, right?” John asked rhetorically.  “Better safe than sorry.  What do you think about it?”

Aberdeen pursed her lips slightly.  “I have no clue.  Science goes way above my head.  But if doctors and epidemiologists are going to tell me to do something – or not do something – so I don’t get sick, I’m going to do it – or not do it – whatever.”

“Atta girl,” John smiled.  “Just listen to the experts.”

“That’s why I listen to you about hockey,” she winked.

He laughed out loud.  “You butter me up too much.  What are you looking for?  A granola bar?  You already have pretzels.”

“Not everything with me has to do with food.”

“Really?”

She pinched him.

***

March 5th, 2020

It was 24 Celsius in Los Angeles, and Aberdeen was loving it.  Though the Leafs had suffered a bit of an embarrassing loss to San Jose the night before, today the team had a day off before they had back to back games against the Kings and Ducks.  Some of them were going shopping on Rodeo Drive (Auston, Frederik), and some were visiting old friends since being traded (Kyle, Jack), but most were doing exactly what Aberdeen wanted to do: going to the beach.

They decided on Malibu Beach.  It was only a thirty minute drive from the hotel, so Aberdeen put on her bathing suit and packed herself in a car with John, Jason, and Justin Holl.  William, Rasmus, Kappy, and Pierre followed in another, with Tyson and Mitch tagging along in the last car too.  It may not have been super-hot to Californians, but for sun-starved Canadians, it would do.  The sun was out, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and she was going to tan the entire afternoon.  She would take advantage of it as much as possible.

As she helped set up the blankets and beach towels, she watched as Mitch and Tyson already stripped down to their bathing suits and ran into the ocean together.  Pierre was setting up some Bluetooth speakers and John was passing around the sunscreen.  The visual of these men rubbing sunscreen across their abs made Aberdeen’s heart flutter – but then the image of them having to slather sunscreen all over each other’s backs brought her back down to earth.  She chuckled to herself and shook her head.

“Aberdeen, sunscreen!” John tossed the bottle towards her.  She caught it and stripped down to her tankini before squirting some onto her legs and arms, making sure to cover herself thoroughly.  She could tell William was watching but trying not to make it seem like he was.  Jason took care of her back.  

The guys did their own thing while Aberdeen read her book and tanned.  She could hear them screaming every now and then and watched as they gave each other piggyback rides and splashed water at each other like they were a peewee hockey team on a weekend tournament.  Every now and again someone would come back to the blankets and beach towels to relax, but soon enough, they were back in the ocean, being loud and obnoxious but happy, happy boys.

“Whatcha reading?” Tyson asked as he walked towards her, wet from the salt water and sand sticking to his legs.  She flashed the book at him – Milkman by Anna Burns – and he squinted his eyes to see it properly in the sunlight.  “Is it about milk?” he asked.

She shorted.  She remembered back to when she was reading Women Talking by Miriam Toews and William asked “Do women talk in it?” like a smartass.  “It’s about a woman in what’s very obviously Belfast coming of age during the Troubles.  I thought it might give me some more insight into what my mom grew up in.”

“Is it any good?  Was it as good as the one you were reading last week on the plane?  Normal Girls or whatever it was?”

Aberdeen giggled.  “Normal People, you mean?  No, it’s not as good as that.  Fuck, I loved that book.”

“I know.  You wouldn’t shut up about it!” he joked, wiping his body off.  From behind him, Aberdeen could see John making his way towards them.  William was still off in the ocean, throwing a football between him, Pierre, and Mitch.  “Think you can teach Mitch how to read?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “I can certainly try.”

As if on cue, Mitch’s booming voice was heard.  “Hey T-Bear!  Get over here!” he yelled, putting everything he had into his throw of the football so it reached Tyson, who caught it expertly.

“See ya later, Aberdeen,” he said before running off, throwing the football towards Pierre who had to dive into the water to catch it.

Instead of focusing on the water cascading down Pierre’s abs or the sunlight hitting William’s broad shoulders perfectly, making him look like some Norse god, she focused her attention on John.  “You feeling good?” she asked.

“The best,” he nodded, wiping himself off before lying the towel down again and sitting on it, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.  “You’ve already gotten some colour,” he commented.

“Thank God,” she said, looking down at her arms.  “The winter has made me so pale.  It’s a bummer I didn’t get my dad’s skin tone.  My sister and brother got lucky with that.”

“You took after the Scottish side?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded.  “I get it,” he said.  “Aryne can’t tan either.  She burns too easily.”

“Wonder if the Swedes are going to look like tomatoes in a couple of hours,” she said, nodding her head towards them.  “Imagine they’re on TV and beet red?  I might get fired for not slathering sunscreen on you guys or not telling you to put on some hats.”

John laughed out loud, choosing to lean back on his elbows.  “I don’t know about that, Aberdeen.  Something tells me you’ll be around for a long time if certain people have anything to say about it – well, until you want to leave, that is.”

Aberdeen’s body stiffened slightly at his words.  “Wh…what do you mean?” she asked.  

“Ah, nothing serious, Aberdeen.  Don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head.  With the silence between them, Aberdeen thought he may have dropped it, but he didn’t.  He was just preparing to articulate what he wanted to say.  “It’s not just Brendan liking you, you know.  We know William has, like, the biggest crush on you, okay?  We’re all adults here,” he said to her shock.  “It’s cute, but we all know it’s harmless.”

“It is harmless,” she stressed.

“I know, Aberdeen.  Don’t worry.”

“Don’t for a second forget that you’re all Toronto Maple Leafs,” she said.  “Every job in this organization is a dream job for someone and you guys forget that some people spend their entire lives, their entire careers, building up their resumes waiting to get hired by this organization.  Nobody would ever, ever, under any circumstances, want to do anything to fuck it up, because once you’re done here, there’s nowhere else to go.”

“I knooooow, I know.  I’m just ribbing you like we rib him about it,” he smiled.  He was so jovial about it all that Aberdeen calmed down a bit.  He wasn’t trying to get to the bottom of something like he was when he and Morgan asked her about Ethan – he was just being good-humoured.  A human, not a captain of a hockey team.  Maybe her overreaction was a bit much but she needed to remain guarded and vigilant about it if ever, and whenever the guys brought it up.  “He looks at you googly-eyed all the time even though he knows nothing’s ever gonna happen.  I’m pretty sure he’d cry whenever you leave.”

Aberdeen snorted.  Cry from joy, probably, because that would mean they could actually touch each other in public.  “He told you that?  That nothing is ever gonna happen?”

John nodded his head.  “Well, nothing’s ever gonna happen as long as you work here,” he clarified.  “But don’t tell him I told you.  He kind of figures and we all know it’s a lost cause as long as you’re working here.”

Aberdeen nodded, deciding not to say anything as she looked out into the distance.  The boys were still throwing the football, and Justin was attempting a yoga pose on the beach.  She picked up her book and buried her head in it.

***

Adrian Kempe, a Swedish friend of William’s, recommended a taco restaurant in Malibu for the group to have dinner.  It wasn’t a far drive from where they were on the beach, so at around six in the evening, they shook the sand off the towels and packed them back in the cars and headed to Café Habana.  Aberdeen was in the car with John, Jason, and Justin again.  

When they arrived at the restaurant, she looked out the backseat window to see Kappy making a beeline towards someone.  The girl, Aberdeen soon noticed, was Saylor.  She figured Saylor was here for another modelling gig, though Aberdeen did find it somewhat amusing that Saylor always popped up in cities or areas with…well, shall we say distractions.  She was in New York.  Las Vegas.  Aberdeen knew she’d been to Florida.  Now she was in LA.  Saylor didn’t go Columbus or Colorado.  

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” Saylor squealed as she saw Willy, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him.  “Surrrrrpriiiiise!”

“Surprise,” he smirked, but Aberdeen could tell he wasn’t as excited as she was.  “Here for some modelling?”

“Who wouldn’t want to come down to LA to model?  I just came from a shoot,” she said, now focusing her attention on Aberdeen.  “Hey girl!” she squealed again.  

“Hi Saylor,” she smiled.

“I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl here tonight,” she smirked.  “The boys can get so boring sometimes.”

“Aberdeen’s used to it by now,” Jason piped in.  “She’s only been travelling with us since September.”

The group moved towards the restaurant and were seated in the back patio at a long table.  Aberdeen was squished in between Jason and John, and directly across from her sat Willy, Pierre to his right and Saylor to his left.  Saylor and Kasperi didn’t even have to sit down to ask the waiter and waitress attending to them if they had oysters.  They didn’t.  With one quick look at the menu, and a disproportionately long discussion requiring everybody’s calculators to be out to determine how many orders of tacos were required for everybody to have three tacos each (much to Aberdeen’s entertainment), the group ordered four orders of every taco variation (and there were five of them) on the menu, along with some sides of baby broccoli, sautéed zucchini, and French fries.  As a dining group of 11, it should have been more than enough food.  She felt bad for the chefs, but knew the food would be amazing.  She saw it being brought to a table near them and it looked delectable.  

While Aberdeen maintained professionalism at all times when she was in front of the guys, when the tacos came, that professionalism waned.  She made sure to grab the four tacos she was guaranteed and wanted and piled them onto her plate.  They looked delicious.  Even as she bit into her first one, she moaned audibly at the taste, making the guys around her laugh.  Willy eyed her as she did so, taking a bite out of his own.

“So what have you been up to?” Saylor asked Aberdeen as she crunched on a French fry.  “Kappy told me it was your birthday?”

“It was!  I turned 22.”

“Ohmigod, I remember my 22nd birthday.  We went to the rooftop bar at the Bowery Hotel in New York City,” Saylor said.  Aberdeen knew it would be something ultra-luxurious because that was the only way Saylor seemed to roll.  “What did you end up doing?”

“Oh, a bunch of friends and I just got a booth and bottle service at a club.  Nothing as fancy as that,” Aberdeen answered.  

“How many were you?”

“I’d say about twenty.”

Saylor’s eyes bulged a bit.  “When you get older, your friend group gets soooo small,” she said, her tone making it seem like she was the all-knowledgeable big sister bestowing wise knowledge upon Aberdeen.  Saylor was only a year older than her.  If it was Jen, Aryne, or Bee giving this advice, fine – but not Saylor.  “My friend group is so small now.  All the drama that goes on between people is just so tiring, you know?  Less people, less drama.”

Aberdeen didn’t want to be rude, so she nodded her head.  “I can get that.  These are all people I’ve known since high school and throughout university, though.  We’ve already been friends for a long time.”

“And you’re still friends with them?” Saylor asked.

Aberdeen nodded her head.  Before she could say anything else, John piped up.  “I think that’s a testament to your character more so than anything, Aberdeen.”

“But it could also speak to, like, the way people are,” Saylor went on.  Aberdeen indulged her, looking at her so she would continue.  “Like, when I was in high school – my family is from Lake Forest, and I went to Lake Forest Academy – I found out this one friend was talking behind my back and I totally ditched her.  But then we ended up at the same college, and it was really weird for a while, but then we ended up becoming friends!”

Aberdeen didn’t know what point she was trying to make.  Neither did anybody else listening, judging by the looks on their faces.  “That’s good you were able to turn the relationship around,” she commented, not knowing what else to say.

Saylor looked very proud of herself.  “Besides that, what else have you been up to?  Are you still just, like, Brendan’s assistant?”

Aberdeen bit her tongue to smile curtly.  “Just.”

“And a great one at that,” Jason said before stuffing his mouth with a taco.

“I guess that’s enough for you,” Saylor commented.

Aberdeen almost dropped her taco.  So did Jason.  Willy was looking in between them.  She didn’t know how to respond at this point and not sound rude when Saylor’s rudeness was so blatantly obvious.  Aberdeen still wasn’t sure whether or not Saylor actually had the capacity to be underhanded.  She was starting to err on the side of Saylor knowing exactly what she was saying to people but saying it in such a way and with such a tone that everyone thought she was just dumb and didn’t know better.  Aberdeen began to believe Saylor did know better, and her act wasn’t fooling Aberdeen anymore.  It made her reconsider what Saylor said to her in New York about her nose.  “It’s actually not enough for me, but it’s what’s paying the bills right now and I’m not going to discuss career aspirations at the dinner table in front of people who are technically my colleagues and who don’t want to see me leave anytime soon.”

“But you can’t be in a job you hate just because it pays the bills!” she said like some dreamer.  “You need to go out there and be creative!  Cultivate!  Be artistic!  Design!  Sometimes the best opportunities come when you just drop everything, quit your job, and start hustling as you do what you love!”

Aberdeen felt her blood begin to boil.  She tried to remain calm.  “One – I never said I hated my job.  I love this job and I love the people I work with,” she clarified.  “Two – that’s a bit easy to say for someone with family money who grew up in Lake Forest and went to a private school.  I have rent to pay.  Bills – groceries, my cell phone, internet, stuff for my cat – I can’t just up and quit my job with a steady income to hustle and be creative when I have a shit ton of responsibilities.”

“I’m sure your parents would help you if it’s your dream and it’s something you really wanted to do.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Aberdeen deadpanned.  “My parents have their own shit to deal with.  My mom would kick my ass if I was that stupid.  I mean, my parents are immigrants, so that goes without saying.  They don’t owe me a dollar, and I would never ask them for it.  I would never do that to them.”

“What about your grandparents?”

Aberdeen could feel John, Jason, Pierre, and Willy deflate at the question.  It was almost comical.  “I think you’re missing the point, Saylor,” Jason said nicely.  “Aberdeen is already hustling to get to an end-goal of writing.  This job is actually helping her get to that goal.”

“Writing?” Saylor questioned.  “I thought for sure you wanted to, like, work in sports or broadcasting or something.  Writing, then?  That makes sense, I guess.  Better for you to stick behind the cameras.”

Aberdeen wondered if everybody else could hear what Saylor was saying too.  She felt like she was in the twilight zone or something.  It confirmed to her that Saylor knew exactly what she was saying.  “Yeah, I guess.  Kind of how it’s better for you to be in front of the cameras because you thrive on attention.”

“Yes!  Modelling is all about getting attention and hype around your brand,” she smiled sincerely, so happy that the topic was back on her and her modelling.  She didn’t get the subtle dig at her…extracurricular activities that took up more of people’s attention than any work or collaborations or modelling she’d done.  “I’m working so hard to build mine now, which is why I’m in LA having meetings and doing more collabs.”

“Is modelling enough for you?” Jason asked.

Aberdeen almost spit out her water, but Willy beat her to it.  She saw Saylor’s face light up even more.  “Oh my God, yes.  I looove modelling.  I’m soooo into the creative aspect of it and building my brand.”

“That’s great, Saylor,” Aberdeen smiled.  “I’m really glad that it’s working out for you considering how much you love it.”

“Thanks, girl,” she winked.  “It’s hard because the industry is so saturated these days.  I mean we were talking about this in New York.  Every girl with an iPhone, some makeup, and good angles thinks she’s a model.  It really takes someone creative like me to stand out.  Someone with a unique look and a unique brand,” she went on.  “Like your nose, you know?  It’s big.  Huge.  We talked about that.  You could get a nose job, or you could work with it.  Most would get a nose job.”  

Jason was ready for Aberdeen to snap.  So was John.  So was Pierre.  But William knew better.  When he saw Aberdeen smile, close-mouthed, just a hint of a coy grin playing on her face, he knew better.  “I have a Virginia Woolf nose,” Aberdeen said.  “It reminds me of how much I want to become a writer and not a model.”

***

“I feel like I just watched a WWE match on pay-per-view,” Aberdeen overheard Justin say to Jason in a low voice as they trailed behind her in the parking lot (he sat beside Jason during the meal and had heard everything, but even if he hadn’t sat beside him, Aberdeen had a feeling he still would have heard).  After the tacos were eaten, everybody decided to call it a night and go back to the hotel – well, mostly everyone.  Saylor wanted to go out for drinks somewhere else in Malibu.  Everybody else politely declined.

“Yeah, except it was pretty one-sided,” Jason said in an equally low voice.  “It’s like Aberdeen was Stone Cold Steve Austin and Saylor was the poor jobber her stunnered every Monday night.”

“You picked up on the nose comment too, right?  I mean she was basically telling Aberdeen to get a nose job?” Justin asked.

“Yup,” Jason popped the P sound.  

“I thought I was going crazy when I heard it.”

“Yeah, me too.  But from what I’ve heard from Jen I didn’t expect more from her.”

“It’s good that Aberdeen is mature.  I think if it were me at 22, I would have lunged across the table,” Justin commented.

***

“Who’s Virginia Woolf?”

Aberdeen was lying naked in her hotel bed, tits out, with William lying by her side after he’d fucked her, and that was the question he asked.  Aberdeen smiled.  She loved William and she knew him – she really did, at least she liked to think – but sometimes she didn’t understand how his brain worked.  She knew she liked to call him “Head Empty”, but sometimes she wasn’t so sure.  He clearly had thoughts.  He just brought them up at weird times.  “She was a writer in the early 1900s,” she answered, laughing slightly.

“And you want to be like her?”

She shook her head.  “I’d like my writing to be like her writing.”

“Why don’t you want to be like her?”

“She filled her pockets with rocks and committed suicide by drowning herself in the river behind her home,” she said, looking over at him.  His face was blank, processing the information, and she smiled wider.  “Maybe if my writing was like hers, I’d actually get published in Toronto Life or something.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Her smile faded.  She hadn’t told him yet.  She’d wanted to keep it to herself for as long as possible because she didn’t want to burden him with the news.  “I did try.  I sent in one of my personal essays and they rejected it.  They sent me the email on my birthday.”

William remained silent.  He saw the look on Aberdeen’s face and knew that she felt embarrassed and disappointed – in herself, in her writing.  He wrapped an arm around her and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her.  “Minskatt…”

“Don’t, Willy.  You’re going to make me cry.”

“No,” he shook his head, not accepting what she was saying.  “After the Carolina game you told me I needed to talk more and that you’d listen.  Well, you need to talk now and I’ll listen,” he said.  “Talk to me, minskatt.  I’m listening.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of her writing getting rejected anymore.  It was because of the man hovering over her.  His head may by empty, but Aberdeen was sure his heart was full of gold.  She didn’t know how she got so lucky. ��She didn’t know how he was hers.  “I just don’t know how much more rejection I can take,” she whispered.  “I try and I try and I write and I write and I read so I can write better and nothing is working.  Nothing,” her voice was shaky.  “I just want an editor to read my writing and say ‘This is what I’ve been looking for all along.’  But that hasn’t happened yet.  And I’m scared it’s never going to happen.”

“It’ll happen one day, minskatt.  I promise you,” William encouraged as he tightened his grip around her with his one arm.  “You’re so talented.  Your dreams are going to come true and you’re going to look back and wonder why you ever doubted yourself.”

“Do you doubt me?” she asked suddenly.

“No,” William said without hesitation.  “Not for a second.”

Aberdeen stayed silent, bringing a hand up to wipe the few tears that had fallen down the side of her face.  She rested it on William’s forearm draped across her body.  “When I get like this, all my insecurities come out.  About my future, about everything.  Maybe I was never destined to be a writer.  Maybe I was destined to be a personal assistant or a bank teller.  Maybe I was destined just to be normal girl with a big nose and nothing special.”

“How can you say you’re nothing special when you’re my treasure?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of her neck and placing a light kiss there.  She couldn’t help but smile, and he smiled at the fact he made her smile.  “That has to count for something, right minskatt?” he stressed the word.

She nodded.  “It counts for everything.”  She looked directly into his baby blues, barely blinking.  “The second I leave here I’m going to plant the biggest kiss on your lips, Willy.  You have absolutely no idea.”

That caused William to laugh out loud before he bent down and gave her a quick kiss.  “Not if I beat you to it,” he said.

“You won’t.  Trust me.  God, I can hardly wait,” she said.  “I still don’t know why you keep waiting for me.”

“Are you listening?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

“I wait for you because I love you.  Because I love everything about you.”

“Even my big nose?”

“My favourite part of you,” he kissed the tip of it.  She could have cried again.  “It’s what makes you you.  I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

When she craned her neck to kiss him, she made sure to wrap her arms around his body and pull him close, wanting to feel his body on top of hers.  He got the hint, and stuck his tongue down her throat, and they kissed until he was hard again.  Though he hadn’t expected a second round, he was more than willing to partake.  He even made sure to bring extra condoms.  He always did now – since Valentine’s Day.  He had them everywhere: in his wallet, in his suitcase, in his shoe.  “I love you minskatt,” he mumbled against her lips.

She didn’t respond at first.  But when she did, it was with something he wasn’t expecting.  “Tell me how you want me.”

He froze for a brief second, the previous conversation they were just having still fresh in his mind.  “What?”

“Do you want me from behind?  On top?” she asked in a breathy voice.

He groaned.  “On top.”  

They switched positions so he was lying on his back.  Aberdeen climbed on top of him.  “Willy?” she asked.  “Can we…can we try something different?”

He nodded quickly.  “What is it, Aberdeen?”

“Can we…” she began, almost a bit embarrassed.  “Can I try reverse cowgirl?”

William couldn’t help but smile.  “Of course,” he said, gripping at her hips.  

“D’you have another condom?”

“My back pocket.”

She dismounted him, leaning over the bed to grab his pants on the floor and retrieve the packet.  When she straddled him again, she did it so her back was to his face.  He could feel her pump him a few times before she rolled on the condom, and he sighed at the feeling.  She looked over her shoulder at him.  “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too,” he said, his hands back on her hips.  He helped her lower herself onto him, the both of the moaning at the feeling.  He loved watching himself disappear inside of her.  He noticed she wasn’t moving yet.  “You okay?” he asked.  

Aberdeen nodded her head.  “It feels so good,” she said.  “I’ve never…you know…”

“It’s okay,” he said, understanding what she wasn’t saying.  He couldn’t believe that her previous sexual partners were so selfish that they never let her explore what she liked or what she could possibly like or positions she could do.  He shuddered at the thought of her potentially asking and being turned down.  It made him angry just thinking about it.  He didn’t want her to be that way with him.  He wanted her to be completely open.  “Do what you feel comfortable with, minskatt.”

She began rolling her hips back and forth.  William groaned in response, and he could feel Aberdeen’s hands grip his thighs and her nails dig in slightly.  As she rocked herself on his cock, she began to moan, gasping out anytime William would buck his hips slightly.  He had to admit he liked the view, but what he liked even more was that she was enjoying herself on top of him, doing what she wanted.  

“Willy?” she asked suddenly.  She looked over her shoulder at him again.  She looked so innocent and he knew that she meant to do it, and he almost exploded right then and there as she bat her eyelashes at him.  “Can you…can you come up here?”

He did as he was told, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around her body.  He kissed her back and dragged his lips along her skin to her shoulder and neck.  “What is it, minskatt?” he asked.

“What if I wanted to try more?”

If it was possible, William felt even hotter.  The sound of her voice saying those words was…indescribable.  “What do you mean?”

“You just make me feel so good.  I’ve never had anybody make me feel this way.  I feel so comfortable with you,” she said.  “You…I feel safe to try things with you.  Things I couldn’t try with other guys.”

He knew what she was getting at.  He placed a tender kiss on her shoulder.  “What do you want to try?” he asked.  She remained silent, wondering if she should have even said anything.  “Don’t be ashamed, minskatt.  What do you want me to do?”

She hesitated.  “D’you…can you pinch my nipples?”

He smiled because it was such a simple request.  He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and index fingers.  He felt her sharp intake of breath and her head leaned back into his shoulder.  He could tell by her reaction that she wanted more.  “What else?” he asked, biting down on her skin near her shoulder.  “What are you not telling me?”

“That,” she stressed.  He didn’t know what she meant.  “The bite.  You—You can fuck me, Willy.  I want you to fuck me.  You can be rougher with me.  I think I’ll like it.”

When William heard those words and how she emphasized them, he wanted to make sure.  Needed to make sure.  The first time they had sex it was a good old-fashioned hookup.  The second time they had sex they’d made love.  In subsequent times since, it was mostly making love, if only because they had waited so long to finally be together and that was what they wanted to “release” – love.  But now, with those words being said, he knew Aberdeen was ready to take the next step.  She was willing to go further.  She trusted him to go further with her, and only wanted to do it with him.  “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.  “I trust you.  Fuck me, Willy.”

He pinched her nipples again, harder this time, and she gasped.  He started to move his hips too, moving inside of her, and she began to moan again.  Without warning, he fell back down on the bed, bringing her with him so her back was flush against his chest, though her knees were still bent and he was still in her.  This was definitely a new position for her, judging by her reaction – a quick “oh fuck” escaping her lips.  He heard her breathing get heavier as she felt one of his hands snake down from her breasts and on to her clit.  “Willy…” she moaned out.  

He started pounding into her, using his athletic physique to be able to so with such force in a new angle she’d never felt before.  Her moans fuelled him, and the moans changed to slight whimpers when he started rubbing at her clit.  “Fuck, Willy…” she managed to get out.

But he wasn’t done.  At least he didn’t want to be done.  His other hand, still pinching her nipple, moved up to her neck.  “Willy,” she mewled, bringing her own hand up and placing it over his.

“Is that okay?” he whispered into her ear.  He wasn’t applying any pressure – it was just sort of there – but that was apparently enough for her.  He wouldn’t have felt comfortable going further, anyway, at least without her verbalizing something.

“Yes Willy, fuck,” she arched her back.  “Fuck me.  Fuck me harder.”

He increased his pace.  Her cries let him know that even with those simple actions, she was feeling pleasure.  She was liking it.  She was getting what she wanted from him.  That was the only thing he wanted.  “I want you to cum all over my cock, Aberdeen,” he growled into her ear.  She didn’t answer, but when she arched her back again, he felt her walls tighten around his cock and he knew she was done.  He let himself find his release too, groaning in pleasure as her body writhed on top of his.  He didn’t stop rubbing her clit until her hand went over his to stop him.  Her body went still as he slipped out of her and she fell to his side, trying to regain her breath.  

After a couple of minutes, she curled around to face him.  “I know that was probably really tame but it was new for me.”

William shook his head.  He didn’t want her to feel nervous about anything.  “Baby steps,” he kissed her.  

“No guy has ever, like…asked what I like in the bedroom,” she admitted.  “So I couldn’t explore things.  Well I didn’t feel comfortable exploring things.  But I know I can with you.”

William nodded his head.  “Don’t worry, minskatt.  We can start slow.  No need to rush.  You can tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go.”

“You too.”

“Hmm?”

“You tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go, and I’ll go there with you too.”

He nodded his head, smiling.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.  More than anything.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

In Your Shadow

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

Random thing that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it, so here it is.  Missed half a very important meeting because I lost track of time writing this, whoops...  More Scott&Gordon because I will die on this hill.

“Tomorrow, they’re not gonna say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’  Tomorrow, they’re gonna say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’”

The lights were off in his brother’s room, but that meant nothing.  Scott had been sent to bed by the combined parental force of Grandma and Dad, and Gordon knew for a fact that John had been recruited to freeze all his electronics to make sure he didn’t sit up doing something all night instead of sleeping.  So, if Gordon didn’t miss his guess, Scott was going to be staying up all night doing nothing, just staring blankly at the ceiling, the wall, the view out the window, and working himself up about tomorrow.

There had been straws pulled between them to decide behind Dad’s back who went in and knocked some sense into him.  Gordon won. Gordon may have rigged the whole thing, but Virgil’s suspicious brown eyes could prove nothing.  This was something he needed to do.

Sure enough, as he slunk into the room, door shutting silently behind him (he’d had years of practice on that one), the body on the bed first rolled over, then sat up as Scott identified him in the dark (Scott had had years of practice at that).

“Gordon?  Is something wrong?”

And still he worried before being suspicious.  Any of his other brothers would be looking for the prank right about now, but Scott’s default would always be concern for him before concern to himself.  Gordon rolled his eyes and padded silently over to the bed, poking Scott until he moved over.  He did, arm shooting out to wrap around his shoulders the way he always did when Gordon had a nightmare.

Gordon was man enough to admit that the last time wasn’t as long ago as maybe people thought, but that wasn’t the reason tonight and he dodged the arm, catching it and using the opportunity of catching Scott off guard to roll his brother over onto his side.

“Gordon?”

Before he could roll back, Gordon dove onto the bed, wedging himself behind him and wrapping his arms around his biggest brother tightly, burying his face in the back of Scott’s neck and feeling his brother tense up.

“Gordon, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, Scott,” he started, voice still low so no Dad or Grandma caught him – there may have been some implications that all of them were to leave Scott alone tonight – even though John was supposedly running interference to make sure they didn’t. “When did you last celebrate your own achievements?”

The concerned set of his brother’s shoulders gave way to a confused one instead.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t remember so much as a graduation party when you finished college,” Gordon pointed out. He didn’t mention the medals, locked away in storage where Scott refused to look at them.  Those didn’t count.

Scott didn’t answer, and Gordon decided against voicing the observation that Scott hadn’t celebrated any of his own achievements since the Zero-X.  This would be the first one, and he was all too aware that the only reason Scott wasn’t ducking out of it was because Dad wouldn’t let him.

“John had one,” he said instead.  “You didn’t let him escape it.”

“John graduated early with the highest grades in the university’s history,” Scott pointed out, and Gordon huffed.

“And you were top of your class.”  He’d checked the records before coming in.  “How did you even talk Grandma out of it?”

“What are you trying to say, Gordon?”  That was a non-answer if ever he heard one.  Gordon squinted at the back of his brother’s neck but let it slide.  For now.

“John’s graduations,” he started.  “John’s books.  Virgil’s graduation.  Virgil’s art shows and piano recitals.  My acceptance into WASP.  My medals. Alan’s everything.”  There had been a lot of parties for the youngest – getting his pilot’s license, youngest astronaut in history, anything Scott could remotely justify.  “You haven’t let any of us miss a single achievement.  But yours…” he trailed off meaningfully, but Scott was still tense in his hold and didn’t say a word.

Gordon sighed.

“Your achievements matter too, bro,” he said.  “Stop skulking in the shadows and directing the limelight onto us all the time.”

Scott made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a scoff.  It sounded sad and a little pathetic.

“You guys do so much,” he said.  “I’m proud of you.  All four of you.”

Aha.

“And we’re proud of you,” Gordon retorted.  “That’s why you’re not getting out of tomorrow.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Scott protested.  “I-” Gordon cut him off with a scoff.

“You piloted that jet.  You broke the airspeed record.  Professor Kwark is getting her dues for designing it – you know you’re not taking anything away from her achievements so stop pretending you think you are – but you piloted it.”

“Because she asked me to,” Scott pointed out, and Gordon rolled his eyes.  “She could have chosen anyone.”

“And she chose the best damn pilot in the world like a sensible woman, and don’t even try and tell me anyone else would have even been a consideration.”  Gordon jabbed him in the chest with a finger.  “Her own attempt last year ended in disaster, so she picked the most experienced high-speed pilot in the world for the next one. Sounds like a smart decision to me.” Scott was gearing up for another counter-argument; he could feel it in the way his chest tensed.  “They didn’t have to pick me for the Olympics,” he continued, switching to the reason he had absolutely rigged the straws to be the one in the room.

When it came to wrangling Scott, Virgil was definitely the most experienced, with John hot on his heels. But Virgil and John weren’t world record holders.  Gordon was.

“You were the best in the team,” Scott immediately shot back.  “They’d have been daft not to pick you.”

Exactly, but Gordon didn’t say that, just waited for Scott to realise he’d cornered himself.  It didn’t take long, shoulders slumping with a fondly exasperated sigh.

“That’s different,” Scott tried to argue.  “You still had to beat the other seven swimmers.”

“And you still had to beat the record.”  Gordon shot that argument back down.

“The jet-”

“Would not have beat the record if I was piloting it.  Hell, if Virgil was piloting it.  Even Alan’s not that good, Scott.”  He squeezed his ridiculously stubborn brother tighter, a grin slipping onto his face as Scott let out a quiet oof.  “That was all you, Scott, and I know you know it, despite what you’re trying to tell me.”

Scott didn’t say anything for several moments, and Gordon didn’t break the silence even if he pressed closer to his brother’s back.  He knew what it was like, those few hours – days, weeks, even – after breaking a world record.  The state of disbelief that he’d actually done it.  Scott had stepped out of what they had nicknamed Icarus II (not actually called that, after the original Icarus had proven too close to its namesake, but Gordon didn’t really care for the jet’s actual name) less than twenty-four hours earlier, breathing hard from the adrenaline and excitement of Mach 23.8 to congratulations and jubilation from Professor Kwark’s team and his family.  What he’d actually managed hadn’t properly sunk in yet, but the official celebrations were tomorrow, complete with paparazzi from all over the world, and Scott was doing his best to escape it.

“…Why are you here, Gordon?”

Gordon was there to tell his brother he was being an idiot, and hammer it home that they were all ridiculously proud of their big brother for doing the thing they’d always known he would one day, and convince him it was okay to be proud of himself. He didn’t say that.

Each of his brothers always required a slightly different touch, and Scott needed to be caught off-guard. The head-on approach never worked; he just headbutted it back with twice the force because he was stubborn like that. Unless you were Virgil but Virgil could just keep throwing it back again with interest until he wore him down.

So instead, Gordon plucked at a different string – one of those little things Scott thought they didn’t know about but really didn’t hide that well once you knew how to look for it. They all knew.

“You know how many people I’ve heard complain about some ‘shadow’ their older siblings cast?” he asked, rhetorically.  Scott froze so suddenly he could have sworn the temperature dropped a few degrees.  “Whining on and on about how no matter what they do, their sibling’s always there, always the one everyone sees?”

Scott seemed to be holding his breath; even pressed up against him with his arms wrapped around his chest, Gordon couldn’t feel any rise and fall.

“Well, I don’t agree with that,” he said firmly.

“What?”  He felt Scott startle, clearly not meaning to say anything but caught off-guard.

“I don’t agree,” he repeated.  “You’ve never overshadowed us.  Any of us.  John’s got the books to prove it, Virgil’s got the paintings and recitals, I’ve got a gold freaking medal.  Even Alan’s making his own name for himself in the gaming community and he’s a home-schooled kid most of the world has never seen out of uniform.”

“I-”

“How long have you been worrying about that?” Gordon asked, overriding whatever feeble attempt at disagreement Scott was about to make.  “At least since the Zero-X.  I know that for certain, but I bet it’s been longer.”

Scott didn’t answer, but he didn’t expect him to.  Scott was annoying like that – he’d say everything you didn’t want him to, and nothing that you did.  The answer was probably the first time he’d ever heard anyone mention something about an older sibling’s so-called ‘shadow’, anyway, knowing Scott.

“You know,” he said, fully aware that Scott didn’t know, because he was an idiot of a big brother who cared too much about them and not enough about himself, “sometimes I like sitting in your shadow.”  Or John’s, or Virgil’s, but this conversation wasn’t about them.

Scott’s second startle was a full-body thing, a twitch topped off with a jerk of the head, but he still didn’t say anything.

“I doubt you get it, because you don’t have a big brother, but sometimes it’s nice lurking there,” he continued.  “Here.”  He pressed up against Scott’s back again, making sure Scott couldn’t possibly miss that he was plastered against him.  “Maybe it’s because I know you’ll never try and keep me here and I can go wander into the spotlight whenever I like,” he admitted, “but I like it.  The others do, too.”  John and Virgil never left Scott’s so-called ‘shadow’ unless they had to, both content to do their own thing and let Scott handle the world while they handled Scott, and Gordon knew all four of them still found safety in their biggest brother even if they never said it in so many words.

“Gordon, what are you trying to say?” Scott asked.  He sounded genuinely confused, and Gordon swallowed another sigh, because trust Scott to be a brilliant leader and fantastic big brother but not understand just how much they appreciated him.

“I’m saying that tomorrow, they’re not gonna look at me and say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’” he said bluntly.  “Tomorrow, they’re gonna look at me and say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’”  He grabbed a handful of Scott’s pyjamas and made a fist, right over his brother’s chest. “Because tomorrow is your day and I – we – are damn proud of you, Scott.  So don’t you dare run away from this and try and put us in the limelight instead.  Not this time.”  Not any time it was Scott’s achievement, but Gordon was well aware that was too much of a push right now.

He’d just bring out the pep talks again, and again, and again, until Scott got the message.

Scott was silent, but his breathing was steady, Gordon’s fistful of fabric rising and falling with his chest, so he waited while his brother thought it through, looking for loopholes and – hopefully – finding none.  Gordon didn’t think he’d left anything, but Scott could be slippery when he wanted to.

It was several minutes before he got a reaction, Scott making a decision like the commander he was. An arm moved, brushing against Gordon’s as it did, before a hand wrapped around his fist.  The touch was firm and warm, but not restraining or trying to pry him off.  Instead, it just stayed there, squeezing lightly before falling still.

“Thanks, Gordon.”

Victory.

“Any time, bro,” he grinned, wriggling around to get comfortable and throwing a leg over Scott’s, just because he could.  “Now get some sleep.  Big day tomorrow.”

“Voice of experience?”

“Yup.”  He popped the ‘p’ just because he could, and because it always made Scott roll his eyes.  “You’ll need all the sleep you can get.”  He kicked the covers until he could reach them with the hand not grasping his brother’s top and pulled them up.

“Aren’t you going to go back to your room?”  Scott sounded amused, with some put-on disgruntlement that Gordon ignored.

“Nah,” he dismissed, settling back down and wrapping his arm back around his brother again.  “I’m comfy now.”

Scott laughed a little. They both knew Grandma and Dad had placed a ‘do not disturb’ order on Scott and that he was at least somewhat avoiding being caught sneaking back out.  There wouldn’t be time to tell him off in the morning while they were rushing around ready for the party.

“Night, Gordon.”

“Night, big bro.”  He burrowed down against his big brother’s back and closed his eyes, content that he’d got at least somewhere in pounding some truths into Scott’s stubborn head and genuinely comfortable where he was.

Sometimes, his big brother’s shadow was his favourite place to be.

[thatesqcrush]

Soul Savin’

Rafael Barba x Reader. AN: Taking a lot of liberties and using a lot of prompts and part of a challenge here, specifically: @madpanda75‘s “from your smutty prompt list, can you please do “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!” where Barba and the reader go to a bar, have some tequila, then do some body shots” as well as @delia26‘s “I turned out liking your a lot more than I originally planned.” Finally, using Jewel’s “Who Will Save Your Soul” as part of @thefanficfaerie‘s birthday challenge. AN2: Trying to write through grief is weird AF. Apologies in advance for typos & nonsensical shit. 

CW: language, eventually it’ll be NSFW. Angst, slow-burning, fluff. A mixed bag. 

WC: 2K

***

Rafael was surprised to find you at the bar. Normally Forlini’s was his choice establishment. He had been handed a difficult loss so he decided to go five miles upward from home and work. It was a desperate attempt to get away from it all and away from anyone he knew. You were drowning your sorrows with some kind of alcohol – he couldn’t tell what it was. Your back was slumped, your shoulders were curved, and your head was hung low.  You appeared forlorn. It had rained earlier in the day and your hair, which had been perfectly coiffed earlier, was messily undone. Your shirt clung to your skin and Rafael surmised you must have been caught in the earlier rainstorm that took place. He had heard the brontide during his travels.

“Detective Y/N,” Rafael greeted as he took the bar stool to your right. “I see you started without me.”

You looked up at the prosecutor who you’ve come to work so closely with. You gave him a half smile. “What are you doing here?” you questioned, not bothering to greet him.

“I wanted to get away from everyone,” Rafael replied as he motioned to the bartender to come over. You raised your brow at his response - seemed you two had something in common.

“What are you drinking?”

“Grouse,” you replied to which Rafael crinkled his nose. His eyes scanned the array of bottles behind the bar and when the bartender came over, he ordered Bruichladdich Black Art neat – one for you and one for him.  “How you can drink that swill is beyond me,” he retorted.

You narrowed your eyes. “Not all of us have deep pockets counselor. Some of us are broke like a joke.”

Rafael huffed slightly as he handed his card over to the bartender. “Keep it open,” he requested. He waved slightly over your way and instructed the bartender that he would pay your tab. You began to protest but Rafael shook his head, insisting. “Broke like a joke right?”

You swiveled in your seat and turned around, your back to the bar. You watched as the other patrons mingled about. You took a long languid sip of the scotch and let it swish around in your mouth. You appreciated the complex notes and hummed your approval. “This is good. Really good.” Still, as impressed as you were, your voice was quiet, and he could hear the regret and disappointment in your voice.

Rafael cocked his head, looking over at you. Fifteen years his junior, Rafael was completely fascinated with you when he first met you a year and a half ago.  You had made your own lateral move to SVU, transferring over from homicide. Rafael would watch you out of the corner of his eye, admiring your intelligence and quick wit. You showed empathy for the victims. You had a keen sense of skirting the law but were always able to maintain its integrity. A lot of the time, you drove him – and sometimes your commander – ostensibly crazy. To top it off, you were beautiful. Whenever he was in close quarters with you, he felt enchanted, like a moth to a flame.

“Don’t take it so hard,” Rafael replied quietly, trying hard to ignore how your shirt clung to your dampened skin and what it did to him. “You did all that you could. Your testimony was solid.”

You snorted in response before taking another pull of your drink. “I like to think that I knew exactly what to do – with this case. How to approach it and how to solve it. I have the skill, I could see the path, the steps and I keep thinking… why couldn’t the jury see it?” You tapped your temple - your eyes were brimmed with unshed tears. Eventually one lone tear betrayed you and traveled southward. Rafael resisted the urge to cup your face.

You cast your eyes over Rafael, watching him with intent – his strong jawline, his distinguished nose, his pink lips, his seafoam green eyes. If you squinted hard enough, you could make out his five o’clock shadow which stemmed from his greying temples. It was too much at times. His handsomeness was churlish and discourteous.

Working with Rafael was as the cool kids said, wild. Never in your career had you met someone who was so emblazoned and passionate by and of, the law. He was guided both by the spirit of the law and by the letter of it. You were not sure as to when your torch for Rafael was set ablaze, but it was. The embers in your heart were rekindled when you met him. You initially pushed those feelings aside, focusing on work. For you, things in homicide seemed – easier almost; the majority of the time it was black and white. Not in SVU. It was as if you had to work harder to prove the victims, were indeed the victims. The grey, the ambiguity, the dubiousness of consent. Sometimes securing justice was victorious – and other times, like now, it felt fleeting. You worked with a stellar team and you learned so much; it made you a better detective. As complicated as SVU was – so were your feelings for Rafael.

The bar which had been quiet, began to fill with patrons. You looked at the clock and surmised happy hour was starting early.

Rafael set his drink down and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his muscular forearms. You took a deep breath and focused your view on the now empty glass in front of you. You motioned for the bartender to refill your drink.

“So, what are you doing here?” you asked as you leaned forward to pluck a cherry from the garnish caddy. “You don’t live this far up, do you?”

“No.” Rafael replied, as he leaned over to snatch the cherry from you. You gave him a pointed look and he gave you a small smile, his eyes crinkling in response. He popped the cherry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I used to come here back when I worked corporate.”

“You used to work corporate?” you sputtered. You grabbed a napkin and wiped your face and shirt, feeling your face grow hot with embarrassment. “When?”

“How do you think I can afford these suits?” Rafael retorted. He waved his hand, “Don’t answer, that’s rhetorical. I worked in mergers and corporate acquisitions after graduation. They say loyalty lies where money is tied. And for awhile, I stayed. I was fortunate to get a free ride, so I was able to save up. I didn’t have to worry about debt.” A look so subtle flashed across your face that Rafael was not even sure he even caught it.

Rafael continued, “Eventually, my mother needed help with my abuelita; she was getting older - more frail. Like the good little Catholic boy that I was... you know, guilt and responsibility - I came home from Cambridge and worked in midtown to be close by. The work was good, but unfulfilling. I wanted to do something where I could use my Spanish and feel connected to the world. There was a lead on opening with the Brooklyn D.A.’s office, and that’s how I eventually ended up here. The hours were better. I could be with my family more.”

“Well boy wonder, I wish I could say my story was half as good as that. But there is not much to tell,” you replied. You took Rafael’s drink from in front of him and kicked it back.

“Tell me,” Rafael implored. “I want to hear it.”

“Why?” you questioned defensively. “We’re not friends.” ‘We’re not anything.’ you continued in your mind.

“We are friends. We’re colleagues after all. I’m friends with Liv… and don’t tell anyone, because I will deny it, but Carisi too.”

You cocked your head at Rafael’s response. You momentarily sobered up and nodded. “Okay.” And so you did – you told him how like Carisi, you did your own five borough tour – starting in Brooklyn where you grew up and then moved to Queens to go to St. John’s. You moved in with your boyfriend after graduation and lived in the Bronx. But that romance while long lived, caused heartbreak and from there you enrolled in the Academy. You worked your way through and through before you made your move to  SVU.

More drinks were had. At one point, Rafael and you both decided that food was desperately needed to sop up the liquor: bacon wrapped onion rings, pork belly sliders and nachos were just some of the things you both gorged on while continuing to talk. Hours were quickly spent.

You stood up from your seat and felt unsteady. Despite your attempts to fuel, the alcohol had already taken a grip on your system. Your mind was fuzzy and your tongue was starting to feel numb. Two large hands gripped your waist to steady you. You felt your face heat up once more and you mumbled your thanks.

“It’s late.” you replied, feeling his breath on yours. You wondered if Rafael could feel how quick your heart was racing. All the time spent together tonight had only further fueled your feelings. “I should go.”

“Not alone. You’ve had a lot to drink.”

You cocked your brow. “I can take care of myself, Rafael.”

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable. You know the work we do; the people we come across. If something happened to you because you weren’t sound…” His voice was low, filled with concern.

You grabbed his forearm, bringing his attention back to focus. “Okay, okay. You’ll see me home then.”

Rafael paid the open tab and escorted you outside. He stepped off the curb and flagged down a taxi. You managed to mumble your address to the driver and Rafael was pleased to know you actually lived close by to him. He wondered why you chose a midtown Manhattan bar to congregate at.

The cab ride was mostly silent. Finally, the cab came to a stop. Rafael again, took care of the fare and he accompanied you to your apartment door. You fumbled with your purse and it fell to the ground, scattering its contents. Rafael helped you gather your stuff. He handed you the keys and he let out a low hum as your hands touched ever so briefly. You opened the door, and leaned against the doorway. “Thanks for the drinks and thanks for getting me home.”

“You’re welcome Y/N,” Rafael replied looking past your shoulder, allowing a brief glance of what your apartment was like. It was compulsively neat - like his. 

“I’ll see you Monday.”

Rafael nodded, the corner of his lips twitched into a smile. There was something about it that unsettled you - but in a good way.  You shut the door and leaned against it. Confusion settled in. You felt as if everything you consumed was ready to upchuck. Rafael let out a breath as the door shut with a click.

As fate would have it, it began to downpour on the walk home. Rafael quickened his pace through the city streets, getting soaked to the bone. Finally he was back at his own apartment. He slumped against his own door, feeling defeated not just in his court case, but in other matters as well.

He finally pulled himself away and dried off, slipping into black light-knit sweatpants and a Harvard t-shirt. As he settled into bed, his phone buzzed. His heart began to pound - almost foretelling his oncoming hangover as he realized he had a text message from you.

I meant what I said; thanks for everything tonight. It was fun amigo. We should do it again.

Rafael’s dreams that night were filled with longing and desire for you. It was in his dreams, he was with you and he woke up the next morning, filled with bitterness for the unattainable. He just didn’t know that your sleep was fraught with similar dreams.

TBC.

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[sceawere]

rsvps | alfie solomons

anon wanted the shelby boys being little shits about reader marrying alfie and alfie dealing with it

“I’m home! S’only me – eh, I thought we cou-“

He heard you shriek and then there was a crash against the door. Alfie had to throw himself back to avoid smashing his face into the wood.

“Fucking hell, love. You nearly took it clean off!”

“Sorry, but you can’t come in”

“Why not?”

“I’m in my dress!”

“What about your dress?”

“My wedding dress!”

“What the hell you doing in that?”

“I couldn’t got to the shop for the fitting, so they brought it here. I’m in my dress, you can’t come in”

“Why couldn’t you go the shop?”

“Because you decided to go to war with the people whose neighbourhood it’s in! Kind of puts a dampener on my options for caterers when you keep fighting with people who make really nice cakes, Alfie. Ada, can you go out and talk to him, please. I can’t do this like this”

He heard you bickering, thought it was muffled through the door. He sighed, putting his hands in his pockets and leant against the frame, waiting.

The door peeked open a little and he popped his head forward to see Ada.

“Hiya, Ade”

“Alright, Alf? Listen, she told me to ask you to piss off for a bit. We’re nearly done, and there’s cake in the kitchen for you. Is that alright, love?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, listen,” he whispered as she started to retreat and reached out to nudge her hand “she alright?”

“She’s…” Ada sighed, looking over her shoulder and then back “struggling I think. Wedding to plan, business shit still going on, we’re having trouble with the boys. Take your pick”

“What’s happening with the boys?”

“Sorry, have you met our brothers!?”

“Oh, they’re not causing trouble?”

“I’ve had a word, don’t think it did much. Tommy’s so hard-headed you could use him to take down a wall”

“I might have to just try that, actually”

“Don’t kick off, it’ll only cause more trouble”

“What they bothering her about anyway?”

“Marrying you”

“Well that’s just…they couldn’t even get creative?”

“Alfie, they’re talking about not coming”

“What?”

“They’re threatening to not come to the wedding”

“They’re fucking what!?”

He heard your squeak from inside the room.

“Alfie! We’ve got company! I’m sorry ladies, my fiancé often forgets himself”

“My apologies ladies! Heard about these flowers she’s ordered, got myself all excited. I love a good Aster, I do” He shouted through the wood, leaning down to carry on his whispered conversation with Ada who by now had a furrowed brow and a squint.

“I’m going to rip out their throats and use ‘em for bow ties”

“Oh, no, Alfie. Too much”

“Not nearly enough”

“If you do that, I think maybe your bride might be miffed, to say the least”

“She’d get over it. I’d bring her a puppy, she loves puppies”

“You like puppies”

“Everyone likes puppies”

“They also like not having their brothers murdered”

“I don’t know, I thi-“

“Alfie.”

He sighed, setting his jaw. He felt his nose flare as he tried to contain himself.

“Fine. I’ll be civil”

-

Alfie was sat reading his newspaper at the table, waiting for breakfast when the door slammed open and there was a commotion in the hall. His hand dropped to the edge of the table, ready to pull out the gun strapped to the underside, until he heard it was Tommy his guards were struggling with.

“Let him in, let him in. Been expecting him anyway”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Morning, Thomas. Would you like a brew? Rose is just putting a pot on for us”

“You burnt down my warehouse?”

“How d’ya know it was me? Eh? Could have been anyone. Could have been kids, playing where they shouldn’t have been. Shouldn’t leave flammables unattended, it’s a hazard. Oh look, here they are. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-bloody-dum”

Arthur and John made their way down the steps into the kitchen, staring him down with scowls. Alfie flicked the paper so the edges uncurled from where they’d began to sag and looked back down.

“You deny it?”

“No, I don’t bloody deny it. Burnt the place down, I did. Myself, actually. Didn’t even use a guy this time. Had the pleasure myself”

“What the hell are you-“

“Not nice having your plans ruined is it, Thomas? Not nice. Not when you’ve put all that work into it. Had everything ready and perfect, din’t ya? Yeah…look at you. Can see you’re put out but it, thinking about all the sorting and dealing that had to go into getting that place perfect for what you needed it for and then I walk in with barely a barrel of petrol and a spark and boom. All that work, ruined”

“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?”

“A lesson, Thomas. It’s a lesson,” he folded the paper and slammed it to the table “I tell you what, the women in your family, they get all the brains don’t they? Barely a scrap left between you and your brothers, it’s pitiful, mostly. Funny, as well, but-“

“Alfie”

“You’re coming to the wedding. All of you. You’re going to sit there and smile like someone trained you if you have to. I’ll bloody glue masks to your faces if you can’t quite manage it yourself. Maybe pin your cheeks up, what d’ya think? Been a while since I’ve got handy with a face and a nail but I’m sure it’s like riding a bike. Skill you never lose”

“I’m not happy about any of this, Tommy”

“I don’t give a bloody monkeys, Arthur. You’ll do what you’re told. Your sister deserves better. Look at the lot of you. Selfish bastards, unbelievable. We all have to make sacrifices for the people we love, yeah?”

“What sacrifices have you made?”

“I wore…a homemade jumper. At Christmas. I’m not quite sure if you recall that. I do. I remember every bloody detail. Now I’m sure I don’t have to elaborate on the many, many reasons that was out of the ordinary course of things for me, do I boys? No. But I did it. Because it made your sister smile for a bloody week. And some other things that I can’t speak off, given present company. I’m sure you can fill those in using your own tiny minds”

John sneered and started pacing down the side of the room.

“Finn’s coming, ain’t he? He sent us his invite back, bringing his girl he is. Gonna be lovely, seeing them all done up together. We’re looking forward to it. So, if your brother, barely out a short pants, can find it within himself to grow the fuck up for the sake of family – why can’t all of you?”

“We-“

“That was rhetorical, Arthur. You can get your girl to explain that to you, I’m sure. Another lovely woman with a brain finding her way in with you lummoxes. I don’t usually miss much, but I’m continuingly baffled by this. How does it keep happening? Is it some magical, mystical nonsense, eh?”

“Is that all? The wedding?”

“Is that all? Is that fucking all? Your sister’s tearing herself apart trying to make this wedding a bloody sight and you’re pratting about like a-”

“You threatened everything to get me to sign an RSVP? You’re losing yourself, Alfie”

Alfie stood, squaring up to Tommy.

“No, Tommy. I’m getting married. Makes you think about shit. Makes you wise the fuck up and think about your priorities. And I don’t give a flying fuck about pandering to your immature little grievances anymore, ‘specially not when it puts my very-soon-to-be-wife’s health and happiness at risk. So sort your fucking shit out and buy a damn suit. Your insurance’ll pay out and we’ll all move on by the time the cake’s served, how about that?”

“We’re doing deep blue”

All the men turned around to where you were stood in the doorway in your bedclothes still. Rose walked over, handing you a cup of tea and you gave her a half wink before taking a deep slurp. You emphasised every step down the stairs, making sure the cup clinked against the table top.

“If you weren’t sure about your waistcoats. Deep blue”

You pinched the edge of the newspaper, flicking it down, and open. You lazed your eyes over the headlines, skimming while the men all huffed about. Alfie walked over and pecked a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning, love”

“You’re paying for the warehouse”

“Love-“

“I sort the insurance out and I can’t be arsed doing the papers. Pay him out the slush, will ya?”

You sniffed, swiping a finger over a stray piece of sleep in the corner of your eye, keeping them intently on the paper as Alfie grumbled next to you.

“Seen this about them changing the buses? Bloody idiots. Rose, is there any of that strawberry stuff left? John, you’ll like this stuff, try a bit”

-

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