#this is... 3377 words.

[blugnettabutterflies]

Waiting room.

Spoilers from Season 5, Case 52.

( @ccornersstone hehe)

Waiting rooms are something that a lot of people call a surreal kind of experience, from the moment they walk in to the moment they get out, depending on their experience. Each person who enters that place feels a sensation or emotion, and those are usually multiplied by a hundred. Whether it is anxiety, fear, happiness, dread… sometimes anger and joy are mixed together into a mess that no one can truly understand. All of them cope in different ways, some pace around the room, some overthink, some are trying to keep calm, and some pray. Others just shut down and feel nothing.

Others, is a mix of two or three. And others are just everything at once.

The only feeling that bring all the strangers together, is the feeling of ambiguity. An uncertain sensation, where you can just wait and hope for the best outcome.

That’s the same feeling Gloria, Gabriel, Amir and Player were feeling inside of that waiting room.

It’s only been a few minutes since they last knew about their partner. For all of them, it feels like hours. Eternal hours.

They all remember the moment vividly. He is up, then he is on the ground, and someone is calling 911. The ambulance came while someone was giving air to him on mouth-to-mouth technique, and that person was pushed away by the paramedics, so they can do what they have to do.

The rest is a blur. Some went on a car, and one of them went on an ambulance.

Gabriel remembers having the pill bottle in his hand, and still can’t wrap his head around it.

Gloria remembers driving, and still can’t wrap her head around it.

Amir and Player are in the back of the car, and both still can’t wrap their head around it.

Getting in the hospital was also a blur. They don’t remember when they got out of their respective car, and ran to the hospital. They don’t remember the time, or who they talked to. They don’t even remember the day, if it was tomorrow or yesterday.

But there they are, at the waiting room. And yet they can’t still wrap their head around what happened.

----

Amir is pacing around. He knows that if he sits down, his leg will start trembling. He is thinking and thinking of every outcome possible.

“He will be okay, there’s a chance that the overdose wouldn’t be so bad. It was just respiratory depression, no slow heartbeat…”

Or maybe the heart palpitations were getting slower when the ambulance came. He doesn’t remember if the person giving the respiratory procedure stopped before. He doesn’t remember how many minutes he was left without air.

Respiratory depression over an overdose can cause brain damage. Benzodiazepines can cause multiple organ failure, and can kill you fast, depending on the drug. And that depends of the time it lasts on the body, the action time, the lasting time...

He wasn’t in time. Just like with Rupert, he wasn’t there to stop it. All he could hear was his Chief yelling for someone to bring a gurney or an oxygen mask or something. He called 911. It’s all he could do. Giving shaky and very shocked answers, as he enters the room and sees his body, being surrounded by people he knew and talked with. He doesn’t remember what he said, but by the very blurred memory of it, he was as frantic as he was now. Maybe a lot more, he can’t tell.

He can’t lose another member. He can’t lose another friend. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he does it, with how much he knew about science and chemistry, he should have known about the chemical imbalance that the body has when they experience someone’s death. It destroys you. He knows it does, he has been there, he knows it first-hand.

Then why didn’t he see the same imbalance? Why didn’t he see that? He could have stopped it.

“This is not about you Amir not now, not now; he is right now being intubated. If the Benzodiazepines were pure, he can be given Flumazenil and will start breathing in due time. Its’ protocol, every 15 second it has to be given 0.1 milligrams of that until the minute passes. He will start breathing. He has to it's …”

The overdose. He could try to ask the doctor or whoever is at charge, once it’s due. Is he at the Emergency Room? Did he pass to the Intense Care Unit? He has to know this he is the Lab Chief. He should know this. He has to know if Gabriel’s medication doesn’t have an opioid involved.

Why he doesn’t know this? He has to know, because he would know what to do. And he thinks he knows what to do because he is okay. He is going to breathe; he is not declared dead yet. Not even when benzodiazepine overdose is one of the main causes on death in United states regarding suicide. Not even when organ failure can cause terrible consequences to his body, and that can result in death. Not even when even if he survives, there is a chance of brain damage. Even if it’s not as probably, but it can happen.

“He has to be okay. Right?” Is all he can think. But all of the outcomes are confusing. He can be alive, he can be dead right now, or in a few hours. Or he cannot talk with them anymore, or maybe he is in a comma where he is not going to ever wake up from, and he is a ventilator, forever. And they will have to say goodbye and disconnect. Or maybe he will not be like that, and will wake up, but in the mental exam he will be declared mentally unable, and will have to be out of the force, and being taken care of. Or maybe he will be okay, and act like nothing ever happened. Is that even possible?

All of those thoughts were mixed into a blender, he doesn’t know what the right answer is anymore. So, he can just walk, hoping those can organize it. Maybe he could call Jasper. Probably he has an answer.

Or maybe just to talk He wants to talk; his throat feels like it’s going to explode. But he is occupied, occupied at work, work that he was supposed to be there, and being useful not like here where he wasn’t and now his friend is being treated and they know anything about it. He can’t interrupt it. Can he?

No one sees it, but his eyes are full of tears. He is not speaking, nor yelling.

His train of thought is only interrupted when he trips as he tried to sit down because of Gloria who is still looking at the door, sitting. It’s all that she has been doing.

----

Looking. Looking everywhere. Looking at everyone.

She is waiting for someone to come out of there. No one has come out of there.

She is looking everywhere. Looking if someone can give her an answer as for why. If she missed a clue, or if someone is looking back, and tells them something they may have forgotten.

She was technically the newest in town, in relations of knowing him. Even Player had more knowledge.

But it feels like she met him for a while back, even if it was just a year ago. She knows how mad he can get when there’s injustice, how sad he could be when something hits him personally, and how irrational his actions sometimes are on a bad day… how many puns he can get he’s nervous and how bold and passionate he is towards his job, friends, love… everything. He is passionate.

Then when did she lose track at the moments, he stopped being passionate, when he became sadder, when he became angrier, and more irrational. Did anyone notice it at all?

She is supposed to be a mother. She is supposed to know where this kind of stuff happens, when suddenly someone changes their mood, meaning that there is something had happening. Then why didn’t she notice it?

She hopes she is able to see it on Carter because if she cant look at it on a grown man then-

“This is not about you Gloria, not now; maybe he just took a harsh decision?” Is all she tried to hope.

“What a stupid idea” it’s the next thought. A sudden decision. This is not a sudden decision. She has been taught the basics of depression, and depression is not sudden.

Its accumulation. Accumulation of feelings. And one day, they pop, they teach you that in courses to catch a teenager’s depression back in Chicago schools.

The moment was still fresh to her, she can still sees it. She was taking about Zoe, and suddenly he appeared. He should be with Gabriel. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He thanked everyone. His voice was cracking like glass and wobbly like jelly. He had eye bags from crying. His tie was untied, his hair looked like he just woke up from a nap.

And suddenly he had the pills. She didn’t react in time, when he said goodbye, saying how worthless he was, when he downed tall of the pills at once, and swallowed them all without even drinking water. (“Why is water so important now?”)

And at the brink of a moment, he was on the ground, with a loud thump. He probably has a bad bruise of that, no one was able to hold him. He fell flat. Chief Parker also saw it, and suddenly went to see his pulse.

There was a pulse. There was no breathing. His mouth was open and un-responsible. She has the idea of the hospital, and saw his chest wasn’t moving, but aside of that, she didn’t know what to do.

She only obeyed orders. Orders of activating a protocol, and waiting for the ambulance to come, as Parker yelled for someone to call 911. She saw how many people were entering the room, and how many were going in and out. It was all in stop motion, as she was slowly walking to the entrance of the precinct to wait for the ambulance to come, so she can guide them to the room.

Looking, waiting. It’s all she could do. Even now.

She is the only one who looks at the clock. She is the only one who knows the track of time. Carter is probably at her house by now, or he is walking there. He will be alone, probably for the rest of the day… maybe even night. Maybe her ex-husband will take care of him. She hasn’t told him that she is still at work. Is she even at work right now? This doesn’t feel like work.

She has to tell him. Yet she feels stuck.

There is more work to do. They still have no answer as for why Zoe was “levitating stuff” given by her killer’s word. What a stupid and selfish motive. For the news. To gain a star in the hall of fame.

Stupid, stupid, so stupid. She only could look at how stupid that stupid motive from that stupid person was. And yet she has to investigate that. She has to talk with him. She and Player. Both together have to ask.

She wonders how her Chief is doing. She didn’t want to go, because she had to still fill a protocol. “Work issues, I’ll meet you there later" were her words, but something tells her that she wanted to come. She is probably in her room. Maybe she is not phased? She looked worried.

Maybe she was. And has to push that away, for the sake of the job.

This job sucks. Sometimes, it does suck.

She looks again, this time to confirm If her seat mate was there. He’s still there, same position as he positioned himself ever since they got there.

Correction. Physically, he was there. Mentally , he was long gone.

-----

When the rest of the group were at the hospital, they already saw Gabriel seated at the chair. He was looking at the ground. He didn’t have the pill bottle in hand. But his hand gestures looked like he had them.

His last words were while seated in that chair. He said with a steady voice that he was admitted at the emergency room, and he had to stay there. That was the last time he looked to the rest, before giving a big sigh, and looking down.

His muscles are not hurting by the position of it, which is good and at the same time, bad. Good because it doesn’t hurt.

Bad because his back was actually hurting. But his mind was so immersed into a mind work world, that he couldn't feel it anymore.

His palms are open together, at times turning into a praying position. He is not so sure if he’s religious, or if anybody in that room is, but he found himself some solace into believing that some powerful superior sense would help them out, even if it’s a little push.

Maybe this is why he was acting so on line at the cult. Maybe he was used to this. He was able to trick his mind into it, believing in something that doesn’t have facts.

But that's only because that's something he can control. And this situation is something that got out of his control. He had it in control, he was supposed to control it.

Ever since he found himself comforting him at the psych hospital, while keeping him away from the body of his deceased loved one, he knew that he had to be in control of this.

He had to. He was he one capable to medicate him enough so he would stop crying and would rest his aching body.

He had to pay attention to it multiple times. He slipped up one time and suddenly he was in the main room, promising to bring hell upon the killer, grabbing someone’s collar to the point of breaking down. He had to be more careful and more in control than ever.

So it wasn’t a surprised that his panic heavily increased when he found that his medicine cabinet was open.

And his pills weren't there.

It was only a matter to connect the dots to realize what the screaming was about second later.

He just went to the bathroom.

He tried to look for the empty bottle, on the ground. And he froze when he found it. Because it's all he could do. Freeze, while thinking how out of control this situation got, and that he has no power to change things drastically like with a pill to calm the nervous system.

He is supposed to be the calm one, and he is showing it. But his mind is screaming, yelling that he is not prepared enough that he let the moment go. Those thoughts didn’t go away, not when the ambulance came, nor when he was sitting and answering the questions, nor when he passed the empty bottle and stayed outside waiting for the rest.

When he studied psychology, and got himself to be a profiler, it was so he could be unprepared for everything. Every symptom is measurable, every change into their behavior can be put into a criteria. And you can learn the criteria, and know what to do because you became prepared.

But he didn’t know what to do.

"This is not about you, Gabriel. But it's your fault if he dies."

Everyone has some fault. He showed so many signs, so many events where they could have prevented it. So many criteria fitting into Major depression. The loneliness feeling, the irrational thinking, the despair and possible suicidal thoughts… all in more than 6 months.

Was there overeating? He does… all the time unless…

Everything was there. He didn’t see it, and it was RIGHT THERE.

He can sense his body growing tense by the minute, how all of the guilty thoughts were increasing in his mind, how he could have prevented it. He knew that Benzodiazepines take away the 4th Phase of REM sleep, he knew that he would get cranky and irritable, why did he keep giving them?! Why he left to the bathroom knowing that Gloria and Player found out who killed her?! Why he didn’t lock the cabinet AND WHY SINCE HE KNEW HE KNOWS LOCK PICKING HE KEPT THE PILLS AT THE CABINET AND BOT WITH HIM WHY WHY WHY-?!

“David Jones?”

Suddenly his ear senses come back. And just in time. Everyone heard it.

“David Jones?!” the voice sounds again.

Amir stops his pace, and Gloria looks. Gabriel tries to compose himself, and gets up. He is the controlled one. He is the one at the ambulance, who told everything.

So he is the one who will know what happened. While he walks, he sees Player, making what it appears to be, a call.

----

He can only imagine how Player is feeling. They both know each other for a while. More than anyone else in that room.

And yet, Player wasn’t able to see the signs, like him. The sudden signs. He bets that Player feels guilty.

Player is just at the phone, and is looking at the door. Is calling someone, probably one of his parents. Probably Ramirez, so he could know the news?

Is it even good to call like that? He can still turn out ok, probably the dose he took wasn’t that bad. Gabriel is hopeful.

Not the same can be said of Player. They are indeed calling someone. It’s all they have been doing. Calling, acting, trying to keep themselves on the ground.

Is all they can do. When was having his anger moments, or sad moments, or moments he could joke at the job, they were the anchor to keep him on the ground. It worker with him, it worked with Gloria, Rita, Amir, everyone. It was always them. The one who had to act up, the one who couldn’t shed tears at the very moment.

And yet there they were. Trying to keep themselves on the ground, because they knew that they were tearing up. Trying to this time, act up, not like last time, that they didn’t yanked the pills away, nor grabbed him when he was falling, or giving the breathing technique. Chief Parker did that. Not them. All they could think, just like the other 2… 3 times… Is trying to keep themselves collected because they were at work.

But this wasn’t work. Unlike Gloria, Player is sure of it. This can't be work.

But they cant cry. They cant bring themselves to tears when at any moment they would have to run, if he needs help or if he needs an antidote.

They don’t remember the name of he antidote. They don’t know the name.

They should have known better. It’s what some person, some young psychology student once said. He's a kettle boiling up. They knew they could explode. But didn’t know how. They should have know, when kettles boil you have the chance to turn off the fire before it runs out of water, and the metal starts melting, damaging itself.

That teenager was right. The whole time. And they didn’t listen.

Someone answered to Player’s call, and that someone is getting the news. That someone is freaking out. Is asking with panic how did his happen? No one truly knows.

Yet Player still gives the rundown. And the person tells them to keep them updated, still sounding like they will cry at the ambiguity.

Player stops the call, giving a long sigh.

Worse case scenario.

“This is not about you, Player. Control yourself, you have to make a solution. Because he is not fine. He is dying. This is about him.”

Another long sigh, and comes back to the group.

At the same times, Gabriel comes back as well from talking to the doctor. His face doesn’t inspire hope.

“I’ve spoken to the doctors about Jones condition…”

...

"And it's not good."

...

Worst Case Scenario.

He’s not getting out of the door.

We are running out of time.

This is the 2nd time you didn’t stop it.

...

... this is all your fault.

[another-dr-another]

testify before koba?

Maeda, narrating - I don’t want to detract if Kobashikawa wants to say what happened…

Maeda - …But he really doesn’t seem like he’s ready to go under the spotlight like that.

Maeda - It’s fine. I can take the heat for not remembering what I heard.

Maeda - I have to bring it up eventually anyways.

~*~

Kobashikawa - I don’t wear a watch, so I’m not sure what the exact timeline was- my guess would be… somewhere around midnight.

Maeda - Ōtori wears a watch though. Maybe he can verify what time it was?

Maki - Ōtori was involved?

Maeda - Mhm. Kobashikawa, Ōtori, and Tsurugi all woke up briefly last night. Kobashikawa told me after I reminded him, and I verified the story with Tsurugi.

Maeda - Tsurugi and Ōtori both witnessed what caused Kobashikawa to wake up last night. 

Maeda - …Personally, I don’t think it’s our number one priority right now. I’m a third party, I can promise you, it doesn’t seem connected.

Maeda - We can discuss it later, but…

Maeda - …

//He sighs.

Maeda - Honestly, I… I have my own testimony I wanna share. It’s… I forgot about it, because it happened so late… I was really practically asleep-

Maeda - But- I think it’s really important.

Ōtori - …Wait, what’s happening?

Tsurugi - …You witnessed something last night, Maeda?

Maeda - Yeah. Yeah, yeah- I’m so sorry. Really, I completely forgot- I only remembered when I was talking with Taira, just before the trial started.

Maeda - But… better late than never, right? 

Tsurugi - …Yeah.

Tsurugi - No, yeah- no- that’s fine, Maeda- that’s good!

Tsurugi - You’re completely right. It’s good to get whatever information you have! Um- that’s good to share.

Tomori - …

Tsurugi - …So. What happened last night?

Maeda - …Right.

Maeda - I really didn’t prepare what I was going to say… I’m nervous I’ll screw this up.

//Everyone is looking at Maeda. Taira is the most lax, the only one aware of what Maeda knows. Kobashikawa seems more confused, curious about what Maeda’s planning to do here, and Tomori is simply staring straight at him. He fixes his posture.

Maeda - A-Again… I only remembered this earlier today, just before the trial started. I’ve been trying to remember more clearly… but I was mostly asleep- if I wasn’t, I would have done something.

Hatano - “Done something”?

Maeda - …

Maeda - I think I overheard the murder.

Maeda - L-Last night- I didn’t hear anyone’s… dying screams, or anything- but I heard the conversations that led up to it, I think.

Hatano - …

Tsurugi - …

Taira - …

Maeda - …Uhm.

Maeda - Okay. The first thing I heard was-

Ōtori - No, let’s wait for a moment.

Ōtori - Maeda, you overheard the murder?

Maeda - …Told you it was important-

Maki - Maeda.

Maeda - And I said I forgot!

Maeda - Seriously, I was asleep! I just wanted the- the noises and the lights to stop!

Uehara - …Lights?

Tomori - If lights had come on, wouldn’t we have all woken up…?

Maeda - Mm- it wasn’t the lights of the room, it was something else.

Taira - It’s always possible that Maeda was dreaming.

Maeda - Taira…

Tsurugi - Hold up, I’m with Maeda here.

Tsurugi - Stress can make people forget things.

Maeda - …

Tsurugi - It’s good that Maeda has more information for us. Even if the testimony gets thrown out, it gives us something to think about.

Tsurugi - Plus, dreams can be affected by what we hear while we sleep… everyone should listen to Maeda’s testimony, then we can figure out what we think.

Maeda - I don’t think it was a dream… but I’m glad Tsurugi’s on my side.

Maeda - Thank you…

Maeda - I don’t know when exactly this happened, but I think I’ve worked out the order, and as much detail as I can get.

Maeda - First, something moved in front of me, and then I heard a person talking. I 

Maeda - I don’t remember details about the voice, because it was quiet, and sounded… a bit rough? Not like a deep voice, though- like how sleep makes you sound. 

Maeda - They were talking with someone else, but I don’t remember what they were saying.

Maeda - The person I did hear, though, said… I think it was something about the time? Or- the length of something?

Maeda - Uhm- they gave the other person permission to go… do something.

Maki - …What did you hear.

Maeda - “Wait, how long… Jesus, okay, no, don’t worry, go ahead.”

Maeda - I’m omitting a little bit, but that’s because I don’t remember too well.

Maeda - Sometime later, I heard… it must have been a door opening, because I remember there being a light- I kept my eyes shut, but still, you can tell if there’s light or not with your eyes closed.

Maeda - I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t really, because I’d been asleep. I think someone was in the doorframe, though.

Maeda - I didn’t think anything much of it- I thought it was weird, but… the fact I was tired kinda outweighed anything else, so tried to fall back asleep.

Maeda - It got bright again, I think from the door re-opening, and then all the lights went away, and I was able to fall back asleep.

Maki - All of the lights?

Maeda - Tsurugi’s lights were still on, I meant the ones coming from the door.

//Maki nods.

Maeda - Okay. I missed a lot of this next part, I think, but…

Maeda - …

Maeda - I heard someone say… I don’t know, something about the conversation they were having, the part I missed-

Maeda - And then- “Oh my God. Did you just kill somebody?”

Maeda - Then the other person came in, and they said they didn’t know what the first person was talking about, and then they started to fight.

Maeda - I couldn’t make anything out- they were talking over each other, and I just remember being upset, because I was tired, and wanted to sleep.

Maeda - But…

Maeda - But, thenI heard a thump. And all the noise stopped.

Maeda - Someone… god, I don’t remember, because it was just as I was falling asleep, but- I heard… a cry? Sort of… like, a whine, but not how a person can whine or moan about something but-

Maeda - Like an animal that wants something, or got upset with you. Kinda heard a sniffle, maybe.

Maeda - So, then I fell back asleep, but I got woken up again- for the third time, I think?

Maeda - I heard sobbing, and there was more noises from… I think from where I heard the voices coming from. 

Maeda - There was a bit of light- it was brighter, but… there was somehow less of it than when the door got opened the first time. 

Maeda - I started wondering… I think about going back to my dorm to sleep, but there was some sort of… it wasn’t white noise, but it was like white noise, and that was kinda soothing.

Maeda - There was another sound too, and then the light got brighter for a moment, then dimmed back down- it happened in that order. White noise, something else under it, and the light changed again.

Maeda - It was really frustrating when the light got bright, so… I think I rolled over to try and avoid it. 

Maeda - Maybe if I’d let it wake me up, we wouldn’t be here right now.

Maeda - The noises kept going, but I was starting to fall back asleep, so… I don’t know what happened.

Maeda - Then, there was just white noise, and I remember because I thought maybe everything would go away-

Maeda - But then there were sounds again, and I remember… thinking that someone was talking, but I didn’t know where, or what they were saying.

Maeda - Uhm… I don’t really know. Then the white noise went away, and the light shut off, and…

Maeda - I don’t know. There were a few, small noises? But… I fell asleep. 

Maeda - Hopefully, that means nothing else happened.

Maeda - …That’s all.

Ōtori - …

Uehara - …

Tomori - …

Maki - …Okay.

Maki - …Jesus. Okay. Okay.

Maki - I-...

Maki - I’m really glad you remembered hearing that.

Maeda - Yeah. I am too…

Ōtori - …I think I’m confused.

Ōtori - It’s- There were a lot of noises and lights at the end there.

Maeda - Yeah… it was hard to put everything into the right order, but… that should be it.

Ōtori - God…

Kobashikawa - …

//He holds up his whiteboard. 

Kobashikawa - There was the first two conversations, the second one ending with a thump, and crying.

Kobashikawa - Sobbing, a sound from the area of the voices, and light.

Kobashikawa - Something like white noise, which was covering up other sounds, and the light got brighter, then dimmed again.

Kobashikawa - The noises stayed the same for a bit, nothing changed- then the noises under the white noise went away, so it was only white noise.

Kobashikawa - The sounds came back, and it seemed like people were talking. After that, all the noise stopped, and the lights went away.

Kobashikawa - Maeda heard a few quiet sounds, but nothing distinct, and he fell back asleep.

Ōtori - …Succinct. Nice.

Tomori - …

Tomori - Maeda, you said you didn’t see anything, right?

Maeda - No… I just wanted to sleep, I wasn’t really thinking.

Tomori - Ah…

Tomori - That’s understandable, of course!

Maki - …It isn’t a lot to go off of, though.

Maeda - …Huh?

Uehara - M…most of that feels important… right? Huh…

Maki - I meant the lights and the sounds.

Maki - It’s proof there was something happening, but if all we know is that… well, that something happened, it’s no further than we were before.

Maeda - W-Wait-

Maeda - I feel like what I heard should definitely be relevant?

Maki - And it is.

Maki - The confusing part just isn’t the priority right now. It’s good Kobashikawa was able to sum it up, but I’m more concerned about what happened before it.

Maeda - The argument.

Tomori - Y-You mean…

Ōtori - …

Ōtori - Odds are, that was Higa, and whoever killed him, right?

Maki - Right. That’s what makes sense.

Maki - But, if we assume that, then we can figure Higa died shortly after. If he seriously thought someone had committed murder, he’d probably have woken everyone up.

Maki - …

Maki - …

Maki - Which makes what Maeda said really important.

Maki - Higa died shortly after the argument, but it was well after all the noises and lights that Maeda heard talking with the white noise.

Maki - It’s possible that someone woke up, and randomly had a conversation with someone.

Maki - But the odds of that are wayyy lower than the odds that one of the members of that conversation was the blackened.

Maki - So, that begs the next question.

Maki - Who remembers having a late night conversation last night, and who were you talking with.

Maeda - …

Taira - …

Tomori - …Oh my god.

Tomori - Wait. Wait-

Tomori - Couldn’t the blackened have been talking to themself?

Tomori - We-We know there wasn’t a murder before Higa’s last night, they probably weren’t expecting him to accuse them of that-

Tomori - Maybe- maybe he didn’t wake anyone up because Higa attacked them!

Tomori - So they’d have been caught by surprise, right? They wouldn’t have been planning to kill someone… 

Tomori - So once it happened, they talked to themselves.

Maki - …

Maki - Yeah, that could be it.

Maki - I won’t act like there’s only the one possibility. But whatever happened last night was enough to wake Maeda, it could’ve woken up other people too.

Maki - And for the noises to keep happening, and the blackened to keep talking to themselves for the entire time Maeda described…

Hatano - But the talking was only at the end. If it was talking beforehand, why would Maeda only be able to tell halfway through, when he was closer to being asleep?

Maki - …

Maki - God.

Maki - Did anyone hear anything, or have any conversations last night?

Kobashikawa - …We haven’t discussed the first conversation…

Ōtori - No one thinks it’s connected, right?

Maeda - Ah- I don’t think Kobashikawa’s erased the notes off of his white board- Ōtori is translating for him again.

Ōtori - I mean, to better paint the picture of what happened, last night, sure-

Ōtori - But it seems like we’re operating under the view that Higa died after falsely accusing someone of murder.

Ōtori - Since we know no one did anything prior to Higa’s death, it’s- well, similar to earlier. It just isn’t the priority right now.

Kobashikawa - …Okay.

Ōtori - Okay?

Kobashikawa - …

//Kobashikawa nods.

Maki - …I agree. I think the thing that’d help us the most is working out what happened with the argument, and with the noises Maeda heard after.

Tomori - Mm…

Tomori - There’s nothing saying someone couldn’t have gone to the bathroom, and that’s what some of the sounds were?

Tomori - It’d explain the lights…

Maki - But not the voices.

Tomori - Ah…

Ōtori - …

Ōtori - Tomori, are you alright?

Tomori - M-Mm?

Ōtori - …

Taira - …I’m sure you heard what he asked.

Tomori - Ah… yeah, I’m fine.

Tomori - Sorry.

Tomori - …I just-

Tomori - …

Maeda - …What is it?

Tomori - …I think… it’s feeling a bit too real now.

Tomori - I- I don’t like it. I don’t like thinking about the fact that was all happening right by my head, and I didn’t know.

Tomori - I’m sorry, though. I’ll compose myself.

Taira - …

Maki - …It’s alright, Tomori.

Ōtori - …

Ōtori - It’s a weird feeling, the moment things dawn on you. Like how you said it, when things start to feel real… it’s difficult.

Ōtori - …

Maeda - …Is he done talking?

Tomori - …Thank you.

Kobashikawa - …

Hatano - Okay.

Hatano - So, Higa got mad at someone, and he died about it. What else have we worked out?

Maki - …

Maki - God. That’s effectively it-

Maki - …

Maeda - …Maki, what’s up?

Maki - …Uh.

Maki - From here, it might just be extrapolation-

Maki - Tsurugi, Higa seems to have gotten into a fight last night. Are you sure you didn’t hear anything?

Tsurugi - No hearing aid while sleeping. 

Maki - …Okay. That makes sense.

Tsurugi - Yeah…

Tsurugi - We’ve established motive, but that’s it.

Uehara - …Wait, what’s the motive?

Tsurugi - Higa was being a dick again.

Maeda - …!

Uehara - Ah. Tracks.

Tsurugi - Mhm…

Tomori - …

//Maeda watches as Tsurugi looks over at Tomori. She doesn’t say anything.

Tsurugi - …

Tsurugi - It definitely checks out.

Tsurugi - Someone was just… hanging around, and Higa gave them hell over it. It’s sad to say, and it was always sad to see, but that’s how it always was.

Tsurugi, quietly - …I don’t like it. I was really hoping he’d be able to get better.

Tsurugi - But…

Tsurugi - I won’t say that I wasn’t expecting things to catch up to him.

Tsurugi - In fact, odds are it wasn’t even the murder accusation, or Higa attacking them, or whatever.

Tsurugi - Maybe it was just… well, maybe it started as something else, as someone trying to get him to go away, but…

Tsurugi - Higa was the way he was because of things that happened to him, things that hurt him, taught him that was how he stayed safe.

Tsurugi - And Higa hurt other people, made it so they weren’t safe…

Tsurugi - …People don’t do well when they feel like that. And he stood alone as the… reachable source of fear and pain.

Tsurugi - …

Tsurugi - I don’t know.

Tsurugi - Maybe they didn’t even mean to kill him. Maybe… maybe they just meant for him to stop. 

Tsurugi - …Anyways. It shouldn’t be surprising to anyone. In fact, it’s pretty simple- I’m surprised we didn’t land on this for the motive sooner. 

Tsurugi - Higa got what he had coming. Even in the end, it looks like it was his fault.

Maeda - …

Maeda - Hearing it… summed up like that…

Taira - …Is it? Simple, I mean.

Tsurugi - Well, it is- but I was wrong to say that. You can get a lot of motives easily if you’re creative.

Tsurugi - More important is that this one checks out. It’s what makes the most sense when you look at the situation Higa died in- it’s most probable.

Tsurugi - It was the result of a fight- this death wasn’t premeditated. Uhm- second degree, not first.

Tsurugi - Anyways. Deciding to kill someone while everyone’s in the same room, and choosing a method that takes time- one that necessitates killing an athlete with your bare hands…

Tsurugi - …It can’t be premeditated. No one would choose that as their plan, even if we thought Higa died from someone wanting him dead.

Tsurugi - You can’t even make the argument that everyone would have the same alibi in this situation, because while it’s true that that works in your favor, there’s lower-risk situations that run the same, 

Tsurugi - And the matter of the murder method stays the same. It’s risky, which can mean there was a lot of planning and preparation, to try and negate risks, or there was none, and it happened on the fly.

Tsurugi - With the argument, we know it was the latter.

Tsurugi - …Right?

Maeda - …

Taira - …

Maki - That…

Maki - That… should all track, yeah.

Maki - I- Tsurugi, it’s fine if you can’t answer this. Have you ever seen a case like this one?

Tsurugi - Oh. 

Tsurugi - One time, I saw a star go pop, and there was new colors inside? Uhm. But, I don’t know if that’s…

Maki - Okay. That’s- okay.

Maki - …Well- does anyone disagree with Tsurugi’s explanations?

Maeda - It makes sense to me…

//No one speaks up.

Tomori - …We have our motive, then. 

Kobashikawa - …

Maeda - Oh- back to the whiteboard.

Kobashikawa - But, not a suspect.

Tomori - …Yeah…

Maki - Mhm…

Maki - This was good though. This is good.

Maki - Before Maeda gave his testimony, we didn’t have any clue what happened. We know now though that Higa and… probably the blackened had an encounter last night.

Maki - …Irregardless of the exact order of events, it’s good to have some stuff ruled out- like the idea of it being premeditated.

Ōtori - Right- but where should we go from here?

Taira - There are a few things we could discuss.

Taira - While we seem to be in agreement on what it was, we could discuss the cause of Higa’s death a bit more.

Taira - There’s also the time of death, and we could expand on what Maeda thinks he heard last night.

Taira - Each of these subjects could be examined more thoroughly, I believe.

Ōtori - …

Maki - …Okay. Sure, yeah-

Maki - Does anyone have anything they want to bring up, though?

Kobashikawa - …

Tomori - …

Maki - …Alright. 

~*~

Maeda, narrating - Maki is facilitating a lot of this… I feel sort of bad. 

Maeda - Maybe I should help pick the direction we go in. 

Multiple Choice!

{Debate the Cause of Death}

{Debate the Time of Death}

{Go Back to Debating the Noises}

[wonryllis]

ʬʬ. ! LAST FRIDAY NIGHT ﹙ THINK WE KISSED ﹚

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. park jongseong with fem!reader 𖥔 ݁ enemies but secretly in love and oblivious, fluff. LIB? word count `3377 warnings. lots of cursing! unedited.

JAY VER: mutual hate f2e JAKE VER. SUNGHOON VER.

"what the fuck, piggy!" you feel jay's feet against the side of the waist before his voice reaches your ears. kicked out of bed and rolled onto the floor, that's how your mornings with jay start.

"what the hell is this!" he shouts again and when you turn to look at him you find yourself questioning the same,"what the hell is that!" a litter of pretty lipstick marks all over him, collarbones to neck to jaw to face. and keyword: lips.

"you tell me! what the hell does it look like?" if it were some other time you'd have laughed your ass off at the horrified look on his face, but the very familiar shade of color on him, the one you always wear because you're quite literally obsessed with it has you horrified as well at the realization. there's no way you did that, with park jay? no no no.

"don't tell me we-"

"i have my boxers on and you're still in that ugly fucking dress so no we did not," his words are like a shower of relief to you. however to jay, it is also something else. sure he is glad you did not do anything but that dress you have on? it's not ugly, it is everything but ugly. you look so pretty in it, like a doll and he thinks it's probably the reason why he let you kiss him all up.

"you better have something to say because i don't understand how this happened," his hands rub over the marks he can see while you sit on the floor trying to remember last night. you went to a college party, and you met jay there, and having the same group of mutual friends you remember playing drinking games. a shot of tequila when you refused to kiss jay for a dare and that's where your memory fails you.

"i don't remember," you say simply, watching jay get of bed and into the bathroom.

"i don't either so let's just call it truce and forget,"

sighing in resignation, you take a look around the room, going over to the mirror to scan yourself. there under the shadow of your ear you spot something purple, a touch and it hurt. pushing your hair out of the way, you take a closer look at it. pupils dilating upon the realization that it's a hickey. with a mortified look in your eyes, you pull down at the collar of your dress to find more. a litter of it mirroring jay's kiss marks. and when you shift on your legs to inspect the other side of your neck, you feel a sting on the skin of your thighs. no way no way please no. you pray as you lift the skirt of your dress, but it's all in vain for you find bruises on the plush of your thighs, in the shapes of handprints, one on each.

you scream. you scream scream and jay is rushing out with a towel hanging low on his waist,"what! what happened!"

there's no time to feel the heat in your cheeks at sight of his naked figure, you are too traumatized by the possibilities of the events that could have happened between you two to even acknowledge the pounding of your heart on noticing the droplets of water cascading down the valley of his chest.

you show him what you had to see and in comes a scream from him.

"oh my god, fuck off before we find more things!"

"missy piggy is all dressed up," he looked you up once, coming to a halt just a step away from where you sat at the kitchen counter turned bar. he couldn't deny you looked good though, he almost lost his breath when he spotted you across the room. there were some loopholes in this weird relationship you had and he couldn't seem to accept it. he found you attractive and he was disgusted with himself for that. out of all the fishes in the sea it just had to be you. his little weakness, the pretty dress.

you wave your hand at his face,"whatever," jay doesn't like the way you just dismiss him, closing in on you blocking your view of whichever guy you were eyeing. whichever guy was hot enough to have your attention away from him.

"you wanna play some games?" his hand goes over to circle the top of your cup, noticing the orange juice in there.

"what game?"

"truth and dare, all our friends are gathering there to play," he wasn't interested to join earlier, but watching you fixated on some guys is itching him to take you away and get your ass busy.

hours later and he's in a circle, all drunk sitting right across you. 'kiss kiss kiss!" the chants go around with the bottle stopped right between your two. if he'd been sober, he would've left the second someone proposed for a kiss but with his mind all hazy right now, all he can think about is how your lips would feel on his. if the pretty shade on them would taste as sweet as they look.

to say he was disappointed when you chose to drink it out would be an understatement. jay felt no more purpose in the game, leaving as soon as you excused yourself. with your wobbly steps you sway your way to the dance floor, almost falling over yourself before jay has his hands around you, keeping you afloat.

"watch your step, pretty," he whispers into your ear.

"pretty? what happened to piggy?" there is a slight flinch in you when you whisper back, growing conscious of the proximity.

"piggies can be pretty sometimes," his hands move lower to your hips, gripping lightly as the music changes to one of sensual hues. body moving together to the sultry notes.

"we're dancing," turning to face the rather drunk boy, you trace a finger over the exposed skin of his chest. jay's sure you can feel the fast thumping of his heart under your pretty little soft tips but honestly he couldn't care less right now. the alcohol in his brain messing with his feelings. a mushy daze of everything he's ever felt for you, from middle school to college.

"together," you breathe out staring at the plump of his lips and jay feels this weird sparkling thing where his stomach twists and turns but in a good way,"apparently," all these people around, so many attractive faces he could have latched onto yet he can't imagine himself swaying away with anyone else, it just feels wrong for some reason.

"and we hate each other," the reminder is like a fresh breeze across his fuzzy mind, no matter where he looks he can't seem to feel the hatred right now,"mhm," jay reaches out with a delicate touch, watching your dazed eyes in a trance as you scan him, muzzling into his hand when he tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear in a faint caress. after that it's a silence between you two, not the one where you usually think of ripping each other's hair off but perhaps one where you're thinking to eating each other's face off. at least that's all jay can think about.

you were drunk and he should have seen it coming. at some point you leave him hanging in the middle of the floor only for him to find you amidst a crowd of screams, letting it all loose on an elevated platform with a pole, right towards the front. twerking your ass off and instead of being embarrassed out of his wits jay rather feels this warm fluffy feeling. a conjured up image of a sober him driving to bars and clubs to pick up a drunk you as you shout 'baby' while running into his arms.

no what the fuck, what am i thinking. he is baffled at his own imagination. enemies to lovers trope is so not his thing. it should never be his thing. right?

"come on you need some fresh air," spotting a few guys eyeing you in the wrong way, jay is quite literally picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder before walking out the house into the backyard.

"i was having so much fun there! why did you bring me out here!" you shout, still feeling the loud music ringing in your ears.

"you were having too much fun, you needed to touch some grass," he tries shushing you, flicking lightly at your forehead.

you ignore him, too tired and used to, to bicker back,"there's a pool here?" the excitement in your voice makes him laugh, y'all have probably been sitting here for five minutes, and you've only noticed the big ass pool now. but well, with the amount of alcohol you both have in your system right now it's a miracle you're still conscious and otherwise a little sane.

"why, you wanna skinny dip?" he knows that's exactly what you would want to do, if you could. he hasn't known you for ten years for just nothing. all those fights and bickerings and make ups, he's sure he knows you more than your friends and more than you know yourself. and he's always followed you whenever you weren't following him. doing everything you did just to get a chance at annoying you.

"can we go in there?" no.

tonight he'd like to stay dry and cozy.

"it's cold, i ain't doing this," he reprimands, squinting his eyes in the distance, a look away from you to tell you he's not having it.

however it's not like you listen anyway, at least not to him.

it's like second nature at this point, running after you. be it to get on your nerves or to secretly protect you,"piggy!" he snaps up at once at the sound of you skipping down the patio. albeit almost slipping and cracking your head open on the way. jay doesn't know if he should be worried more about ending up in the hospital or getting in there with you all wet and close.

he's been in the pool with girls before but he's not been in the pool with you since you were like eleven and friends and not hit by puberty yet, in your ugly loose swim shirts and pants, hair all over in a mess with no idea about romance.

"slow down will you, i can't be bothered to drive you to medics if you break a leg or something," he whines, feeling the water soaking up the clothes against his skin as he carefully walks down the stairs leading into the pool. two steps behind with his hand reaching out to steady you incase you decide to slip again.

"try to catch me!" you yell, putting in all efforts to move as far from him as you could.

"do i look like i need to try?" his hands loop around your wrists in a moment, pulling you against his chest is a low splash. arms going around the waist as he locks eyes with yours. the palm of your hands find refuge on his chest playing with the undone buttons when the hard pounding of his heart reverberates against your skin. you're nervous, he's nervous.

"why do you hate me?" he asks.

"because you do," you answer and jay's confused. what?

"why do you hate me?" you ask him. and as expected,"because you do,"

realizing it's all a big misunderstanding, jay can't help but feel his heart race faster if that is even possible,"i don't really hate you," the pout on your lips falters his gaze, looking down to avoid his breath stopping right there and then. "neither do i," a low whisper, softly adjusting the fallen strap of your dress. he scans you over once, his little weakness, the pretty dress. no, it's you, you always know what to wear have him weak in the knees.

"your lipstick is pretty-" you look so damn pretty he wants to say, brown orbs lingering on the shine radiating off your lips.

you're both drunk, and it's probably the only time he'll be able to say it. i can do it! jay swears.

however before he can even utter a syllable, the slippery gloss of your cherry lipstick slide against his lips. feeling the plush of your lips pressing onto his own, like a step into heaven. eyes open and motionless, taking a hard time to let it sink in while you're there moving your lips, catching his bottom lip between in a gentle bite.

"pi- piggy-" when you pull away for a split second only to jump onto him, his hands immediately grabbing the back of your thighs resting them around him, trembling at the tension he feels to dive right back in to a kiss.

"shut up," you begin leaving a trail of marks starting at his neck—

that's where you scream, pulling jay out of the flashbacks. he sits on his bed, tracing his lips in a trance after you've left. he had no idea how to face you after remembering all that while you still seemed to have no clue. how he knows your lipstick tastes sweet and bitter and how you don't know that he knows that.

he takes out his phone, a faint memory of a picture. searching through his gallery is not even necessary, on the top in a grand glory he finds the photo of you perched on his lap on his bed, head tucked into his neck where one can definitely catch glimpse of your fluttering kisses.

he can't seem to recall about the hickeys on your neck, and how you got to his room. but he's sure he will in a few days. hoping you'd too until then.

for now he'll post this. there's nothing better than getting under your skin. figuratively and literally.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

[lila-lou]

✨Family✨

Summary: This Christmas is your first with Emily, Beau’s teenage daughter. Between her shy smiles and sharp wit, she’s learning to trust you, and you’re creating a home together.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Beau x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 3377

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts, filling the air with a cozy warmth that made the chill of the Montana winter seem far away. Emily stood next to you, carefully arranging cookies on a tray. Her focus was intense, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated on making each cookie look just right. It was the kind of detail about her that always made you smile—a reminder that, even at sixteen, she still had that playful spark beneath her teenage independence.

“You think Dad’s gonna notice if I sneak one of these?”, she asked, glancing at you with a sly grin.

You laughed, rolling out another batch of dough. “Oh, he’ll notice. Beau’s got a sixth sense when it comes to cookies. Besides, don’t you want to save some for tonight?”.

Emily groaned dramatically, clearly unimpressed with your reasoning. “Fine. But the gingerbread man with the crooked smile is mine. Calling it now”.

Through the frosted kitchen window, you could see Beau and Cole outside in the snow. Your three-year-old son was bundled up so tightly in his navy-blue coat and matching hat that he looked like a tiny snowball himself. He was giggling uncontrollably as Beau helped him roll a massive snowball for the base of their snowman. Beau’s laughter was just as loud, echoing across the yard, a warm contrast to the cold landscape. You could see the way his breath fogged in the air as he crouched down, ruffling Cole’s hair every time he clapped his mittens together in excitement.

Emily noticed you watching them and sighed, setting the spatula down. “They’re having way more fun than we are. Why do we get kitchen duty?”.

You smirked and nudged her playfully with your elbow. “Because you agreed cookies were more important than frostbite”.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “That was before I realized how boring baking is. I don’t know how you do this for fun”.

“It’s not boring if you put your heart into it”, you teased. “Besides, you can’t tell me those cookies don’t look amazing. You’re doing great”.

Emily looked at the tray, a hint of pride creeping into her expression. “Yeah, I guess they do. And I’ll admit… it’s kinda nice being here”. Her voice softened at the end, almost like she was testing the words out.

You paused, glancing at her carefully. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment for Emily. This was her first Christmas with you, Beau, and Cole—her first away from her mom. While she didn’t talk about it much, you could tell it weighed on her. The little things gave her away: the far-off look she got sometimes, the way she’d hesitate before fully relaxing around you.

“I’m glad you’re here”, you said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s different, but it wouldn’t feel right without you”.

Emily shrugged, but you caught the flicker of a smile. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not bad or anything… I just—”. She stopped herself and focused back on the cookies. “It’s nice to feel like part of something, you know?”.

Your heart ached for her in that moment. She’d been through so much this past year, but she’d held it together with a strength that amazed you. “You are part of something”, you said gently. “And we wouldn’t trade you for the world”.

Emily didn’t respond, but her shoulders relaxed just a little, and that was enough.

Outside, Beau lifted Cole onto his shoulders, spinning him around as the little boy shouted with glee. The snowman project had apparently been abandoned in favor of an impromptu snowball fight, with Beau pretending to dodge the tiny handfuls of snow Cole tossed at him. The sight made you laugh, and Emily turned to the window, her expression softening as she watched her dad and Cole.

“They’re such dorks”, she said, but there was no malice in her voice—just affection.

“That they are”, you agreed, sliding the tray of cookies into the oven. “But they’re our dorks”.

Emily smiled, a small, genuine one that made you feel like maybe things were starting to fall into place. This Christmas might not be what any of you had imagined, but for the first time, it felt like the start of something real, something good.

Eventually, you set the rolling pin down, brushing flour off your hands as a mischievous grin spread across your face. Emily looked up, raising a curious brow.

“What?”, she asked, watching as you wiped your hands on a towel.

You nodded toward the door, your grin growing. “Come on”, you said, a playful spark in your voice. “Let’s show them what a real snowball fight looks like”.

Emily’s face lit up, and for the first time all day, she looked completely carefree. “Oh, you’re on”, she said, already tugging her sleeves down to head for her coat.

The two of you quickly bundled up, Emily grabbing a pair of mismatched gloves and tugging them on as you zipped up your jacket. The moment you stepped outside, the icy air nipped at your cheeks, but the laughter from Beau and Cole made it easy to forget the cold. They were crouched behind a pile of snow, clearly in the middle of their “battle”. Cole had a snowball in each hand, and Beau was dramatically shielding himself, shouting, “Mercy! Mercy!”, as Cole pelted him with what looked like more powder than ice.

“They’re not even going to see it coming”, you whispered to Emily, who crouched beside you, already scooping up a handful of snow.

“Divide and conquer?”, she suggested, her grin matching yours.

“Always”, you replied.

Together, you moved swiftly, using the yard’s uneven snow piles as cover. You watched as Emily targeted Beau first, her snowball hitting him square in the shoulder. He whipped around, stunned.

“What the—”, he started, before you launched your own snowball, catching him in the chest.

“Reinforcements?!”, Beau shouted, laughing as he scrambled to grab snow. “Oh, you two are in trouble now!”.

Cole, catching on to the new dynamic, screamed with delight. “Get ‘em, Daddy!”.

But Emily was fast. She ducked behind a snowbank, expertly avoiding Beau’s counterattack. Meanwhile, you were busy distracting him, tossing snowball after snowball, laughing so hard you could barely aim.

“You think you can take me down?”, Beau called, his Southern drawl coming out in full force as he lobbed a snowball in your direction. “I’m the king of snowball fights!”.

“King? You’ve already been dethroned!”, you shouted back, dodging his throw and quickly crafting another snowball.

Emily, ever the opportunist, took advantage of Beau’s focus on you. She came out of nowhere, launching a snowball right at the back of his head. The soft thud of snow hitting his hat was met with a stunned silence before he turned slowly, his mouth open in mock betrayal.

“Et tu, Emily?”, he said dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.

“Every man—or dad—for himself!”, Emily shouted, laughing so hard she could barely keep her balance.

Meanwhile, Cole was toddling over to you with his own version of a snowball, which was really just a clump of powdery fluff. He tossed it at your leg, giggling uncontrollably. “Gotcha, Mommy!”.

“Oh no, I’m hit!”, you cried, pretending to stumble backward into the snow. Cole squealed with joy, climbing onto your legs to “finish the job”.

Beau took the opportunity to scoop Emily into his arms, spinning her around as she shrieked, “No fair! No fair!”. The laughter echoed across the yard, a perfect mix of chaos and joy.

By the time you all called a truce, your cheeks were red, your gloves soaked, and your sides ached from laughing. Beau walked over, his arm slinging around your shoulders as Cole clung to his leg, still chattering about his “big win”. Emily joined you, shaking the snow out of her hair and grinning like she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Well”, Beau said, his voice warm and low, “I don’t know about you, but I think that might’ve been the best snowball fight this family’s ever seen”.

“It’s the only snowball fight this family’s ever seen”, Emily pointed out, but the teasing tone in her voice made it clear she’d loved every second.

You leaned into Beau, glancing at the three of them, your little makeshift family. “Well, I guess we’ve set the bar pretty high, haven’t we?”.

Beau smiled down at you, his eyes soft. “Good thing we’ve got plenty more years to top it”.

And as the four of you trudged back inside, shedding wet coats and boots, you couldn’t help but feel it: the warmth, the laughter, the love. This was Christmas. This was home.

Inside, the warmth of the house quickly thawed the chill from your cheeks. Snow clung stubbornly to Cole’s little hat and mittens, and his face was flushed bright red from the cold and laughter. Beau grinned as he scooped him up, effortlessly hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Cole squealed, kicking his legs playfully as Beau said, “Alright, buddy, time to get you warmed up and in some dry clothes before you turn into a popsicle”.

You followed them up the stairs with Emily trailing behind, her footsteps light and quiet as she watched the scene unfold. Beau pushed the bathroom door open with his elbow, still holding Cole, and plopped him down on the edge of the tub. The little boy wiggled as you knelt down next to him, gently brushing the snowflakes from his hair.

“Hold still, Cole”, you said, laughing as he squirmed. “We��re trying to help you, you know”.

“But I’m not cold!”, Cole protested, giggling as Beau wrestled with the tiny, wet socks that clung stubbornly to his feet.

“Not cold, huh?”, Beau teased, holding up one soggy sock like it was evidence in a trial. “Then what do you call this, Mr. Snowman? A fashion statement?”.

Cole’s laughter filled the small bathroom as he tried to kick his feet free, but Beau caught them easily, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve been like this since you were born, you know. Always wiggling around, never staying still”.

“Cause I’m fast!”, Cole declared proudly, pumping his little fists in the air.

“You’re definitely something”, Beau muttered, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he finally got the last sock off. “Now, let’s get you into some dry clothes before you speed your way into a cold”.

Emily leaned casually against the doorway, her arms crossed as she watched the two of you fuss over Cole. There was something soft in her expression, though she tried to mask it with her usual teenage coolness.

“You two are such parents”, she said, her tone laced with mock judgment.

You glanced back at her with a smirk. “Is that a bad thing?”.

Emily shrugged, but there was no edge to it. “No. Just… funny, I guess. You’re both so good at it”.

Her words made you pause for a moment, your heart swelling. It wasn’t often that Emily said things like that—openly kind and vulnerable. You met her gaze and gave her a warm smile. “Well, we’ve had a lot of practice with this one”, you said, nodding toward Cole, who was now giggling uncontrollably as Beau tickled his belly while trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Beau looked up at Emily, his grin wide. “And for the record, I’d say we’re pretty good at being your parents too. Even if you don’t let us put your socks on”.

Emily rolled her eyes, but you caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile. “I think I can manage my socks, thanks”.

“Good to know”, Beau replied, finally managing to get Cole into a clean, dry shirt. He scooped the little boy back into his arms and stood, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Cole’s head. “There. Warm and toasty, just like a marshmallow”.

“I’m a marshmallow!”, Cole shouted, making you and Beau laugh.

Emily chuckled too, though she tried to hide it behind a shake of her head. “You’re all ridiculous”, she said, turning toward the hallway.

You stood, brushing your hands on your jeans, and caught up with her as Beau carried Cole back down. “Ridiculous, maybe”, you said softly, nudging her shoulder with yours. “But happy. And that’s what matters, right?”.

Emily glanced at you, her expression softening again, though she quickly masked it with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me, okay?”.

“Too late”, you teased, following her down the hall. But deep down, you knew she felt it too—this warmth, this connection, this new sense of family.

As the evening settled in, the house glowed with the soft light of the Christmas tree, its twinkling bulbs casting warm colors across the room. The scent of cinnamon lingered from earlier in the day, mixing with the woodsy aroma of the tree. The four of you were sprawled on the couch, cozied under a thick, patchwork blanket.

Beau, of course, had taken up the role of ultimate family snuggler. He sat in the middle, his left arm wrapped firmly around Emily, who had only agreed to the arrangement after a dramatic eye-roll and a mumbled, “Fine, but just this once”. Despite her protests, she leaned into him, her head resting lightly against his shoulder.

You lay on his other side, his right arm draped around your shoulders as you nestled close, your legs tucked up under you. Cole, ever the little king of chaos, had stretched himself out across both your laps. His head rested on Emily’s knee, his little hands clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur, while his feet occasionally kicked up as he babbled about the cookies he’d eaten and the snowman that “almost stayed up”.

“Almost doesn’t count, little man”, Beau teased, ruffling Cole’s messy hair. “Next time, we’re getting it to stand no matter what. That’s a promise”.

Cole giggled, his voice sleepy but full of excitement. “You’re gonna help me, Daddy?”.

“Always”, Beau said, his voice soft and steady. “Always, buddy”.

You smiled at the exchange, feeling the warmth of Beau’s hand rubbing small circles on your shoulder. This was it—the quiet, perfect moment you’d been hoping for all day. Emily glanced at you briefly, catching your expression, and she smirked in that way only a teenager could.

“What?”, she asked, her tone playful but curious.

“Nothing”, you said softly, though the smile on your face betrayed you. “Just… this”.

Beau’s hand stilled for a moment, and he looked down at you, his gaze filled with a tenderness that never failed to make your chest ache. “Yeah”, he said quietly, “this is pretty good, isn’t it?”.

Emily groaned in mock disgust. “Oh, come on. You two are so gross sometimes”.

“You love it”, Beau said, leaning down to plant a quick, noisy kiss on the top of her head. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t pull away, and you noticed the small smile tugging at her lips.

“Do not”, she muttered, clearly lying.

Cole let out a loud yawn, his little arms stretching wide as he snuggled deeper into the blanket. “I love it”, he announced proudly, his words slightly muffled by the stuffed dinosaur he was still clutching.

As the evening wore on, Cole’s babbling grew softer, his eyelids drooping as the warmth of the blanket and the steady rhythm of Beau’s voice lulled him closer to sleep. He shifted, nestling deeper into the crook of your lap, his stuffed dinosaur still clutched tightly to his chest. You brushed a hand gently over his hair, smoothing down the messy tufts that stuck up from his earlier adventures in the snow.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Cole’s sleepy voice broke the quiet moment. “Emmy?”, he asked softly, his words slurring a little with tiredness.

Emily’s head popped up, her eyes widening slightly as she looked down at him. “Yeah, bud?”, she replied, her voice uncertain but kind.

“Will you read me a bedtime story tonight?”, Cole asked, his little voice so sweet and tentative it made your heart squeeze.

Emily blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Not Mommy or Daddy?”.

Cole shook his head against your knee, yawning widely. “I want you. Please, Emmy?”.

The room fell quiet for a moment, everyone waiting for Emily’s response. She glanced at you, then at Beau, like she wasn’t sure she was the right choice. Beau’s expression was warm and encouraging, and he gave her a little nudge with his elbow. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, kiddo”, he said softly, his tone teasing but gentle.

Emily hesitated for only a moment longer before giving a small shrug, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “Yeah, okay. Sure, I’ll read to you”, she said, her voice carefully casual.

Cole’s sleepy face lit up in a soft smile. “Yay”, he murmured.

As Emily and Cole disappeared upstairs, their voices trailing off as Emily tried to convince Cole that she wasn’t going to do all the silly voices, you turned back toward Beau, who was already shifting under the blanket. Before you could say a word, he stood up, effortlessly scooping you into his arms with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Beau!”, you laughed, clutching at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”.

“Kid’s occupied, we’ve got at least twenty minutes”, he said, his voice low and teasing as he headed toward the basement stairs. “I’m taking advantage of a rare opportunity”.

“For what?!”, you giggled, your heart racing more from the way he was looking at you than the movement.

“To spend some uninterrupted time with my wife”, he replied, his drawl making the words feel softer and warmer than they already were. “That’s what Christmas miracles are all about, right?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your head against his shoulder as he descended the stairs. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”.

“Yeah”, he said, his grin widening. “But also horny".

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nudged the guest room door open with his foot and stepped inside. The room was small but cozy, its faint glow coming from the single lamp on the nightstand. Beau set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your waist as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours.

“Finally”, he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “A little peace and quiet”.

You raised a brow, still smiling. “You think twenty minutes is enough for peace and quiet? With our kids upstairs?”.

Beau smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I don’t need long to remind you how much I love you”.

The warmth in his voice melted any teasing retort you might have had. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “You’re pretty good at that, you know”.

“Good”, he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “Because I plan on doing it for the rest of my life”.

And for a moment, the world upstairs faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the quiet, perfect stillness of the moment. It wasn’t long, of course, before the faint sound of Cole’s giggles echoed down the stairs, followed by Emily’s exaggerated sigh as she tried to coax him to sleep. But for those few minutes, it was enough—just you and Beau, tucked away from the chaos, stealing a little piece of Christmas magic for yourselves.

———————————

A/N: Let´s welcome Beau to the family. Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

[somethinginthewayiam]

A new home

pairing: Chibs Telford x plus-size reader

words: 3377

warnings: there is 18+ content throughout (minors DNI), mentions of ptsd, smut

Summary: After the explosion, Chibs just cut all communication and didn’t show up again. He didn’t even tell you that the club bought the ice cream shop on mainstreet. You found out by chance walking by...

link to my masterlist and previous parts

You startled awake in your bed. Your heart and your breathing raced each other. You had dreamed about the explosion again. It had just been a few days ago and you relieved the moment every night since.

Your hand reached over automatically, looking for Chibs but the bed was empty. He was a no-show since the night of the explosion, when he had brought you home and held you until you were asleep.

You pulled your hand back and put in on your chest over your heart, trying to breathe slowly and calmly until you were able to get up.

You took a cold, short shower to clear your head and then got dressed to drive over to Diosa.

With Nero in jail, you, Lyla and Gemma were basically keeping the business alive. You were taking care of more than just the books by now. You dove into the work to keep yourself distracted from everything; the explosion, Chibs cutting contact and your mental state going downhill.

In the early afternoon, you left work to run some errands but you would be back in the evening to help out with Diosa’s rush-hour. Your bartending skills came in handy again.

Carrying two big, stuffed bags with groceries, you walked down the street.

“I can’t believe they let those bikers buy the old ice cream shop. If Carl would see this, he’d turn in his grave”, you overheard two older ladies talk to each other as you passed them on the side-walk.

Your body came to a sudden halt and you turned around to them. “Excuse me, which ice cream shop are you talking about?”, you asked. The ladies looked at you a bit startled. They hadn’t noticed you until now.

“Scoops & Sweets around the corner, on main street”, one of them told you. “Thank you”, you mentioned and changed your direction to the ice cream shop. It was really right around the corner, actually just a block away from your yoga studio.

When you came to the big shop window, you saw three people in kuttes sitting at the counter and Chucky behind it, seemingly running the place. None of them were Chibs. In fact, the only one you knew was Chucky.

Chibs hadn’t told you that the M.C. had found their new headquarters. Well, Chibs hasn’t said anything to you in the past couple of days, not a single fucking word.

You decided to go inside. Besides the counter, there were booths and a few tables with chairs, all empty. You guessed, a shop full of bikers wasn’t very inviting to the people of Charming, especially after the explosion.

“Hey Chucky, got your own place now?”, you asked as you entered. You placed the bags of groceries on the counter. “Ha, it’s cool, isn’t it? I’m selling sweets”, he told you and gestured at the filled glasses with all kinds of candy. “Oh man, I would have loved this place as a kid. You would have gotten all my pocket money”, you told him and sat down on an empty bar stool at the counter.

You looked over to the three bikers at the bar who were following your conversation with Chucky. All three were wearing SAMCRO patches.

“I think we haven’t met yet”, you said and extended your hand. They introduced themselves as Quinn, Montez and West. They told you that they had recently transferred from other charters.

You kept chatting with the men and lost a bit track of time. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Sons coming towards the shop through the big windows. You clocked Chibs right away and he spotted you, too. He stopped in his stride for a second before he entered the shop behind Tig.

But another man caught your attention as he entered the shop as the first one.

“Oh my god, Bobby!”, you exclaimed as your old boss walked through the door. You jumped off the bar stool, got over to him and gave him a big hug. You were so happy to see him again, you thought he had left Charming for good.

Chibs just walked around the two of you and hopped up on the counter, reaching into the glass of gummy worms and throwing some into his mouth.

“Hey, doll”, he greeted you with your old nickname and you immediately felt nostalgic. “I didn’t know that you’re back. How are you?”, you asked him when you pulled back. “I’ve been shopping for the club”, he said and pointed at the three new members at the counter.

“How have you been? I’ve heard you were at the clubhouse when it happened”, he asked and looked honestly worried about you. He still had his hands on your upper arms and squeezed them reassuringly.

“I’m okay, I’m pulling through. Thank you for asking, I’m glad that someone cares”, you told him. You heard Chibs snorting at your words behind you but not saying anything. You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw at his reaction.

Bobby looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you just shook your head. “Don’t get me started”, you simply said.

“I think the two of you should talk”, Bobby advised. Then he looked over your shoulder and directly at Chibs. “And soon”, he said to his fellow SAMCRO brother. “I’ve only been back three days and he’s already getting on my nerves with his bad mood. Make me wanna ride off again”, Bobby told you.

“I’m not the one going radio silent. He stopped talking to me the day after the explosion”, you told Bobby.

“Aye, could ya stop talking like I’m not even here?”, Chibs called over from his spot on the counter.

“Oh, look who found his words again?”, you mocked him as you turned around and narrowed your eyes at him. Chibs rolled his at you and now it was your turn to snort instead of using your words.

“Alright. Not that I want to play marriage counselor here, but you kids seriously need to talk”, Bobby intervened. “Chibs, you bring Y/N home and talk about whatever is going on between the two of you. Doesn’t matter how long it takes”, he said, picked up your grocery bags and handed them to Chibs, making him come down from the counter.

“My car is right around the corner, I don’t need him”, you told Bobby. “Great, he can drive you”, he said, deliberately ignoring your objection. “Now go”, he added and motioned both of you over to the door. “Let me take those”, you said and wanted to take the bags from him. “I got it”, he just grumbled and turned his upper body away as he walked past you and out the door.

To say it was a tense ride home, would be an understatement. None of you said a word. The silence continued until you were in your apartment. Chibs put the grocery bags on your kitchen counter while you put your purse in its spot by the door.

Just a second later, Chibs was coming towards you again and wanted to walk around you and out of the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, you said and stepped in his way. “Back to the shop”, he just said and narrowed his eyes at you as you wouldn’t get out of his way.

“I thought we were gonna talk?”, you asked honestly confused. “Just because Bobby said so?”, he asked mockingly. “No, because I want to talk to you but you never showed your ass here again”, you countered and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“I don’t have time for this”, he mentioned and attempted to push past you again, but you were quicker and got in his way. You stepped in front of the door, blocking it.

“No, you’re not leaving again”, you said and put your hands on his chest, shoving him back. “Don’t make me put my hand on you, woman”, he threatened. “You wouldn’t dare. That’s not you”, you countered.

Chibs charged at you and had you caged between him and the door in two seconds. You looked up at him, lifting your chin, defying him. His eyes wandered over your face, hectically.

You could see in his eyes that both of you, at the same time, remembered the last time you stood like this at your door. When he had picked you up from that bar just a few weeks ago and had fucked you against it.

His facial features softened a little bit only to twist in anger again a moment later and he slammed his fist against the door above your head. You winced at his action. He turned around and walked a few steps into your apartment.

“What the hell is going on, Filip?”, you followed him. “Why did you just leave that morning and never came back?”, you asked. He still had his back to you, his hands on his hips. “You didn’t even call me. And I would have needed you. I was scared”, you told him further, your voice becoming shaky at the emotion that was washing over your body like a wave.

“I wanted to protect you”, he finally said. You were almost surprised when he spoke. “From what? The shit had already happened”, you replied. “You think that’s the only shite we’re dealing with?”, he turned around and his brows were furrowed in anger.

“Being involved with the club comes with consequences and I will not be responsible for you getting hurt”, he said. “It’s a little late for that”, you countered.

“What’s a little heartbreak for saving ya life?”, he asked and to your ears it sounded like he was mocking your feelings.

“You know what? Fuck you!”, you shouted at him and made a few steps in his direction, pointing your finger at him. “I’m already involved with the club, I’m working for the Sons, remember? And just because you decided that we stop fucking doesn’t resolve any involvement. It only tells me what a coward you are”, you spat at him.

“Watch it”, he warned you, but you would have none of it. “You watch it”, you threw back at him. “I’m allowed to feel scared after what happened to me but I will get over it eventually”, you told him.

“You still have those nightmares?”, he asked like he already knew the answer and that it would explain everything.

“It’s been 5 days! Sorry for not having more experience of being blown up”, you spat at him. His so-called arguments made you furious.

“How do you even know about my nightmares? It’s not like you stopped by or called for that matter”, you countered. He at least had the decency to look a little bit ashamed before he answered. “Lyla”, he finally admitted. He didn’t have the guts to talk to you but he asked Lyla how you were? Are we in fifth grade?

“Even if I do, why is it your concern? Didn’t seem to bother you the past couple of days”, you taunted him. “You’re always my concern”, he said and clenched his jaw like he was mad about that.

“Then why the sudden silence? I thought after all the sex we’re having and the time we spent together, you would at least have the decency to tell me when this is over”, you said.

“I thought it would be easier like this”, he finally admitted and his voice was lower, softer. “Well, you thought wrong. And could you please stop thinking that you could make decisions for me? I’m a grown-ass woman who is very capable of making up her own mind. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me”, you told him. He just looked at you in response, not saying a word. You would have hoped for some kind of reaction, positive or negative. But that silence again enraged you. Maybe he was actually done with you.

You walked over to Chibs and made yourself as tall as possible in front of him, putting your hands on your hips.

“If you can honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that you want to end this, that you don’t want to have sex with me again and despise my company then there is nothing I can do about it. But don’t believe for a second that you can just keep your distance and annoy me out of whatever this is. I grew up with 3 brothers. I’ve been annoyed by men my whole god-damn life”, you told him with a stern voice and poked your finger at his chest with every syllable of the last few words.

You said what you wanted to say. You looked up at him waiting for his reaction. His dark-brown eyes bored into yours, but he didn’t open his mouth. You almost felt overwhelmed by the wave of disappointment washing over you. You lightly shook your head in defeat and wanted to walk away, get some distance between the both of you.

Chibs grabbed your wrist just as you wanted to turn around. He spun you towards him and your body collided with his chest. His hands cupped your face and the next moment his lips were on yours.

It was a hard, hungry kiss, making up for lost time. You could also feel that he was fighting himself, hating himself even that he couldn’t just let this end. But you were glad that he couldn’t because if this ended, it would be worse than after that explosion. A little heartbreak, my ass. Chibs Telford owned your heart by now.

He maneuvered your bodies over to the thick carpet by the couch, you starting to undress each other. The clothes went flying, shoes were kicked off. You both got on your knees as soon as you felt the soft fabric underneath your feet.

You pushed him down on his back and pulled off his underwear. Your panties were long gone. You climbed on top of him, reaching down to align his member with your center and sank down on his hard cock until he was fully inside you.

“Ah, fuck”, you breathed out when you felt him stretching you. You had both of your hands on his chest as you started to move your hips back and forth, increasing the pace quickly. Your nails were digging into his skin as you rocked back and forth, leaving marks of your own on him.

Chibs’ hands grabbed your breasts with such a tight grip, it almost hurt. Your hips slammed down on his pelvis with force. It was a hate-fuck at its finest.

You were both moaning loudly and cussing into the air. Chibs was slapping your ass to spur you on even more.

He put his hand around your throat and pulled you down to him. He held you there while he kissed you and started to fuck up into you, digging his heels into the carpet.

You bit down on his bottom lip and he pushed you back at the pain. You shot him a devilish grin and bent down to kiss him again.

His arms snaked around your upper body, pressing you against him and holding you in place as he picked up the pace you had lost for a moment and pushed you right to the edge of your orgasm with that angle.

You buried your face at his shoulder and moaned loudly against his skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna come”, you whined and pushed yourself up on your elbows to come face to face with him.

When your orgasm washed over you, you were staring into his dark-brown eyes, your mouth falling open. Your breath got stuck in your throat before you exhaled with a loud and deep moan, your hips jerking against him and your pussy clenching hard around his cock. Chibs followed with his climax just a stroke of your hips later, growling against your collarbone.

You rolled off him and lay on your back next to him on the carpet. Your breathing was hectic and your bodies covered in sweat.

“So, did I make myself clear?”, you asked, still out of breath, looking up at your ceiling. “Crystal”, Chibs confirmed. After just another moment, he got up and grabbed his pants.

“You’re not seriously gonna leave now?”, you asked in disbelief as you moved up to your elbows. He grabbed the flip phone from his left pocket, checked it and put it back.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Am I allowed to do that?”, he asked and his voice had a mocking tone. You rolled your eyes at him and got up.

“No”, you told him. “Not alone. We’re in California. There’s always a drought somewhere”, you added as you walked past him and over to your bathroom.

You heard his footsteps coming closer rather quickly and the next second you felt his fingers grabbing your sides and tickling you.

You squealed and ran into your bathroom with a giggle.

 After the shower, you moved to the bed, laying down and cuddling up to each other. You must have dozed off because when you opened your eyes again, the bed next to you was empty and your heart sank into your stomach. Not again.

When you sat up, you found Chibs sitting on the foot-end of the bed, smoking. He was in thoughts and hadn’t noticed you had woken up.

You wrapped the sheet around your upper body and moved over to him. You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and wrapped your arms around him from behind, putting your chin on his shoulder. He looked over at you out of the corners of his eyes and then turned forward again, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I can hear you think”, you mumbled after another few minutes of silence, when you realized that he was not going to say anything soon. He exhaled and got up. You now saw that he had put on his underwear again.

He paced in front of the bed, a stern look on his face, his jaw clenching and his brows knitted together. You watched him, tilting your head to the side. He stopped and put the cigarette between his lips.

“You’re not just worried about me, are you?”, you said when you saw his face. He looked down at his feet, taking a long drag of his cigarette. His eyes darted up to you, lingered on your face for a few seconds and then looked down at his feet again.

Something made him nervous and that wasn’t an easy thing to do. And that made you nervous. But that wasn’t what he needed right now.

“You don’t have to tell me any details, I know you won’t, but I wanna be here for you. Tell me as much as you feel comfortable or nothing at all. I won’t ask any questions”, you suggested and held your hand out to him.

He stood there, contemplating. His eyes wandered over your face, then to the floor, then your face again. He sighed deeply and took a last drag of his cigarette before putting it in the ashtray.

He grabbed the hand you were still holding out to him. You moved backwards until your upper body was resting against the headboard of the bed. Chibs climbed back on the bed and followed you. He moved his body between your legs and rested his head on your belly. Your fingers started combing through his greying hair, your thumb caressing his forehead and temple.

He didn’t tell you anything, you weren’t really expecting him to. But you felt his body easing up a bit and his breathing calming down.

You reached over to the nightstand to text Lyla that you couldn’t come in tonight, but it was empty. Your phone was still in your purse by the door. You didn’t dare to move as it seemed that Chibs had fallen asleep.

You kept running your hand through his hair, your other hand stroking his back in a soothing motion.

You would have to apologize to Lyla tomorrow for not showing up but you wouldn’t trade this moment right here for the world.

next part Maybe baby

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Fire

Rated X / 3377 Words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s suggestion that he take her to lunch wasn’t a serious one, but he takes her anyway. He’s too distracted in the wake of Phoebe’s surprise visit to get any work done at this point, and he figures he owes her one after she single handedly solved the case while he was busy being mindfucked by Scotland Yard’s finest. He takes her somewhere just a little bit dingy with a full bar, the kind of place they aren’t likely to run into any of their cohorts from the Bureau. While they’ve never directly discussed it, he’s sure she’s aware there’s some gossip circulating about them, and though it’s entirely baseless, it’s best not to feed the beast in his experience.

He’s a little embarrassed that Scully bore witness to the power Phoebe clearly still has over him. He’s a little embarrassed to learn that, even ten years later, when she says jump he still asks how high, and then tries to double it. The moment she kissed him he felt like that naive college boy again, so starved for affection that he’d take it from the teeth of a snarling dog and then thank it for biting him.

He suspects that Scully only orders a drink so he’ll feel comfortable doing the same, though she reasons that she doesn’t really have anything else that needs finishing today, so it’s not an issue if her afternoon is a total loss. She’s actually a really good friend, now that he’s thinking about it. He’s only ever thought of her as his partner, but she shows up for him outside of work, too. And while he might have expected her to bristle at his moderately unprofessional behavior during the investigation, she’d only rolled her eyes and gently teased him, much like a friend would.

“So,” she says halfway through their second round of drinks. He can tell by the wry smile on her mouth that she’s wading into uncharted territory. “Would I be correct if I guessed that Phoebe ripped your heart to pieces and then told you to clean up the mess?”

Mulder cringes a little, but he’s smiling too. Not because it’s funny, but because she’s right.

“Something like that,” he says, then takes a sip of his drink. “Though I wish I could say it only happened once.”

“Ah,” Scully says knowingly, sitting back in her seat and resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other.

They both removed their suit jackets the moment they sat down, and Mulder has since loosened his tie and cuffed his shirtsleeves. Scully is wearing one of those ruffled blouses she seems to have in every color, the ones that have a rather deep V in the neck that’s made modest by all the excess material surrounding it. Sometimes he looks at her in her boxy suits and shoulder pads and thinks about what she looked like in nothing but her bra and panties under candlelight, but he’s careful never to let her see him looking at her that way. The fact that she’s beautiful is filed away in his mind behind more pertinent traits like intelligent, brave, determined, funny, and loyal.

“Pathetic, I know,” he says, looking down at his glass to hide the chagrin on his face. “And she just about looped me in for another round, if I’m being honest.”

“The sex was that good, huh?” she says, and he snaps his head up to be sure that it’s still his consummately professional partner sitting across the table from him.

She’s still there, the skin on her chest flushed pink with booze. She smirks behind her glass, perhaps a bit proud of her locker room talk.

“Depends on your definition of good, I guess,” he answers honestly. “It was pretty wild, and at the tender age of twenty-one, wild was as good as it got.”

Scully’s eyebrows raise curiously and he feels his groin grow just a bit heavy. He’s not sure how explicit of a discussion she’d be open to, but he’s interested in finding out.

“Are we talking ‘group sex’ wild, or ‘masochism’ wild?” she asks, just as casually as if she were asking him what classes he and Phoebe had together at Oxford. Mulder clears his throat.

“I think there was undeniably some masochism involved on my part, but more like high-risk or transgressive.”

“Transgressive,” Scully repeats with interest, her head tilting thoughtfully to the side. She doesn’t ask, but he tells her anyway.

“She, uh…she gave me a blow job on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s grave once, as an example,” he says, hiding his pride behind sheepishness.

A slow grin breaks out over Scully’s face, and Mulder feels a warm flush all over his body.

“Agent Mulder,” she admonishes him lightly, picking up her nearly empty glass and sucking the last bits of liquid off the bottom. “How disrespectful.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking between her smiling face and the table top. “I think that was kind of the point. It was hardly worth it, though. She broke up with me the next day with no explanation and she was sleeping with one of my friends by the end of the week.”

Scully’s smile fades and she holds her glass up, making eye contact with their waiter and gesturing that they’d like another round.

“Mulder, I’ve known plenty of women like her,” she says, her tone shifting as she uncrosses her legs and leans in. “She hates herself so much that the only thing that brings her any pleasure is to be pursued. She showers men with affection and attention, and then withdraws it as soon as she knows they’re hooked.” She pauses while the waiter drops off fresh drinks and takes away their empty glasses, as well as the remains of their lunch. “Men chasing after her, asking what they did wrong and how they can win her back, is the entire objective. Let me guess, if you ever call her out on it she acts offended that you’d define her character based on a couple little mistakes?”

Now Mulder sits back in his chair, disturbed by such an accurate description of his tumultuous relationship with Phoebe.

“Were you secretly attending Oxford in 1983, Scully?” he asks uncomfortably, then takes a gulp of his drink that burns all the way down his throat.

She smiles, pleased with herself.

“Phoebe isn’t nearly as unique as she’d like you to think, Mulder,” she says, resting her elbows on the table and then her chin on her joined hands.

“Well, she sure pulled one over on me,” he says, feeling embarrassed again. “More times than I care to admit.”

He drags his middle finger through the ring of water left by his glass, drawing slow, contemplative circles on the table top. Scully’s hand appears from his periphery and settles over his own, and she waits until he looks up at her.

“It’s not your fault, Mulder,” she says tenderly. “She saw a vulnerability in you and she took advantage of it. Having been on the receiving end of that myself, I can empathize with the fact that it’s difficult to see it for what it is when you’re in the middle of it.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he says lightly, trying to reclaim the playful banter he’d been enjoying a few minutes ago.

Scully withdraws her hand and picks up her glass.

“I wish that I were,” she says wistfully. “Though I can’t say that my own youthful hijinks included oral sex on the gravesites of famed authors. I’m disturbed to learn the origin of your private joke, by the way.”

Mulder laughs, but he also entertains a mental image of Scully spread-eagle on the trampled grass in front of Doyle’s cement headstone, a dark-haired man’s head between her legs.

“Glad to hear you don’t think I’m a total schmuck,” he says.

“No, not a schmuck,” she assures him with a shake of her head. “I will admit to being a bit surprised by how submissive you were towards her, though.”

The comment was clearly offhand, based on her demeanor, but it hits him like an insult.

“Submissive?” he repeats, sitting up a little taller. “What makes you say that?”

She considers him for a moment before answering.

“You deferred to her in every respect,” she explains. “It was quite clear that she was in charge.”

“It was her case,” he shoots back. “Of course she was in charge.”

Scully holds up both her hands, palms facing him, in surrender.

“Forget I said anything,” she says. “We should probably get back to work soon.”

“I’m not submissive, Scully,” he says emphatically, ignoring her previous statement.

“I didn’t mean it pejoratively, Mulder; it’s not a bad thing to be. I was simply saying that I was surprised by it.”

“Well whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong,” he says sternly, trying to catch her eye.

Reluctantly, she makes eye contact and holds it for a beat.

“Whatever you say,” she says, acquiescent but characteristically skeptical.

Mulder clenches his jaw, holding back a tawdry remark. He waves their waiter over and asks for the check, as well as a cab, and then drains his glass. Fifteen minutes later they pile into the back seat of a taxi, buzzed to the point of uselessness as far as work is concerned.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks, meeting Mulder’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Alexandria,” he says, and Scully looks over at him.

“No, the J. Edgar Hoover building,” she corrects, and Mulder levels her with a steely stare.

“No, Alexandria,” he says again, and her eyebrows furrow.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

“Where to, folks? Meter’s running,” the cabbie says, annoyed.

“Alexandria,” Mulder repeats, turning to look out the window as the cab pulls away from the curb.

He feels Scully’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at her right away. He makes her wait nearly two full blocks before he slowly turns his head and takes in the thoroughly confused expression on her face. Even then, he doesn’t proactively justify his actions like he typically would. He just looks at her, letting his eyes fall to the exposed skin on her chest and then dragging them slowly back up to her face. She opens her mouth and closes it, swallows, then finally turns to look out the window, and he finds himself fighting off a smile. He’s already rendered her speechless and he’s just barely getting started.

The cab deposits them in the parking lot of his apartment building, and after paying the driver he wordlessly heads inside, relying on his reflection in the glass doors to confirm that Scully is following behind him. In the elevator, he again feels her staring him down but does not reward her with eye contact. He behaves as though she isn’t there until the doors open on the fourth floor, at which point he gives her another once-over glance and then says, “After you,” in a tone that tells her it’s a directive, not an offer.

He follows her too-closely down the hall. Not so close that she could rightfully question it, but closer than is socially acceptable. When she arrives in front of apartment forty-two he reaches past her, key in hand, to unlock it, effectively trapping her between his body and the door. She stiffens but doesn’t speak, and when the door swings open he has to touch her back to encourage her inside. She stands in his foyer while he deposits his wallet, keys, and cellphone in their designated places, seemingly waiting to find out what will happen next.

He slips her suit jacket off her shoulders and she lifts her arms out of it, watching him curiously as he hangs it on the billiard ball coat rack near the door. He can feel that her tolerance to continue waiting for the punchline is waning, so he nods toward the dining room table behind her and says, “Have a seat.”

Scully turns to look at each of the three chairs set around the table. One is hosting a stack of books, one a pile of unfolded laundry, and the other a banker’s box full of junk he was planning to donate.

“Where?” she asks flatly, one eyebrow raised.

Mulder steps forward and grabs her by the waist, hoisting her up onto the tabletop. She makes a startled little gasping sound and wraps her hands around his forearms, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asks, alarmed.

He pushes even closer, so close that he’s occupying the space between her open legs, his hands still on her waist, and leans down as though he’s going to kiss her. She stays stock still, her eyes open, and at the last second he shifts his head to the side and brushes his lips lightly across her ear.

“Who’s submissive now?” he whispers, and he feels her shiver at the tickle of his breath.

He leans away from her, grinning victoriously and expecting to see something along the lines of embarrassment or irritation on her face, but she looks awestruck. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes unfocused, and she’s breathing heavily.

“Scully?” he asks hesitantly. Did he take it too far? Did he scare her?

Her hazy eyes take a meandering path up his chest to his face, then narrow a little. Her jaw sets, the corner of her mouth quirks, and she reaches up with one hand to grab hold of the loosened tie still hanging from his neck. He opens his mouth in preparation to apologize, but she tugs hard and his mouth crashes into hers. Suddenly he’s tasting whisky and lipstick, and the heels of her shoes are digging into his ass.

Something he should have guessed about Dana Scully is that she takes no prisoners. The one time he attempts to come up for air with the intention of making sure she’s thought this through, she silences him with her hot little hand down the front of his dockers, and he decides that they’ll just have to learn to lie in the bed they’re making. She pops half the buttons off his shirt when she artlessly tears it open, then rips his undershirt off over his head so violently she just about takes one of his ears with it. She gets him down to his boxers while she’s still perched on the edge of his dining room table, fully dressed, and he realizes that he’s completely ceded control to her.

Her hands are just slipping under the waist of his boxers, preparing to divest him of the last scrap of clothing on his body, when he grabs them and pins them to the table beside her hips on either side. She looks up at him, panting, and smiles.

“Point taken, agent,” he says, his face inches from hers.

“You do realize that brute force isn’t dominance, right?” she playfully chides him, looking at one of her restrained hands and then the other.

She’s so sassy, a trait she normally doles out in bite size pieces, and he’d be a damn liar if he tried to claim he didn’t like it.

“What was your plan here?” he asks, grateful that the bend in his waist necessary to hold her hands against the table is obscuring the fact that he’s half-hard.

“I might ask you the same question,” she retorts haughtily.

A beat passes, and she runs her tongue across her bottom lip nervously. It occurs to him that maybe this isn’t just a prank that’s gone too far.

“Are you drunk, Scully?”

She sighs, her head lolling to the side thoughtfully.

“Maybe a little bit,” she confesses. “Are you?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he agrees. “Am I taking advantage of you?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Not yet,” she says, and something in the tenor of her voice sends blood rushing to his lap.

“Would you like me to?” The words leave his mouth before he’s given them even a split second of consideration, and the resulting flash of adrenaline makes him dizzy.

“Maybe a little bit,” she answers, her chest heaving.

The second he lets go of her hands so he can simultaneously kiss her and get to work unbuttoning her blouse, she pushes his boxers off his hips, leaving him nude. She doesn’t touch him right away, though she makes no attempt to hide her appreciative leering, and the combined pride and desperation bolster his confidence to the point that they quiet the little voice in his head that’s telling him this is a bad idea.

In short order, he fills in the details of her body that were previously hidden beneath white cotton. Her breasts are small but perfectly proportioned, and when she lifts her hips and allows him to divest her of her slacks and panties, he finds a full patch of ginger curls between her legs.

For a moment they just look at each other, her hands on his waist and his resting on the tops of her thighs. When he looks at her face and she meets his eye, he at once realizes the gravity of what’s happening and also that it’s already too late to avoid whatever the consequences will be. Nonetheless, he’s afraid.

Scully smiles demurely and tosses her head to get her hair out of her face.

“You’re not getting submissive on me, are you?” she asks playfully, though he senses that she’s a little afraid too.

He allows himself to get lost in living up to her expectations, almost like he’s playing a role. He’s the man who carries her to his couch and tells her to watch while he tastes the slickness between her legs. He’s the man who holds her hands above her head while he makes her come with his fingers. He’s the man who hands her a—miraculously—unexpired condom and instructs her to put it on him, and then he is the man who bends her over the arm of his couch and tries not to seem too proud when she gasps at the size of him and comes again within a minute.

She moves to sit on the couch, her legs wobbling, and looks skeptically at the condom still snuggly covering his erection, which isn’t waning in the least.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t finished,” she says breathlessly as she pulls a blanket off the back of his couch to cover her nudity.

He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. Diana never did. Or she didn’t care enough to say anything about it, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tugging the condom off and retrieving his boxers from the floor near the table.

“Are you that drunk?” she asks, mildly alarmed.

“No,” he answers quickly. “It just…doesn’t always happen for me.”

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully, and he wishes she’d stop looking at him like that. Like she might actually listen if he told her about the other ways Phoebe took advantage of his vulnerability. About how difficult it is for him to let go in front of someone else now. About how lonely it makes him feel.

He sits beside her and they talk for a long time. About nothing. About everything. About what they just did and what it means for them. Eventually, he does tell her about Phoebe. She doesn’t make him feel weak or silly, or express surprise that a man could experience that kind of issue. She’s empathetic, and angry on his behalf, and she doesn’t take it personally or claim to know how to fix him like most women do. The booze wears away and a new kind of trust is forged, and he gets the feeling that she might turn out to be the best friend he’s ever had.

When she kisses his cheek and slips her hand under the waist of his boxers, he knows that it’s not out of pity. She doesn’t touch him like he’s broken or treat him like a project, and he doesn’t feel any pressure to perform. She coaxes him to the edge and he trusts that she’ll be there to catch him when he falls.

He lets go.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

i've got plenty to be thankful for

by maggie_1277 Alex had done everything. He begged and pleaded with Zarha and Shaan to get approval, he asked his dad to come and make sure he took the time actually to get out of DC. He’d bullied Nora and June into coming and ensuring everything worked out. He’d even called in a meeting with President Mom, and put it in her schedule to make sure she knew how serious he was. He and Henry were going to host Thanksgiving. Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Background & Cameo Characters Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Thanksgiving Dinner, thanksgving can cause bodily harm, Injury, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Location: Brooklyn Brownstone (Red White & Royal Blue), do not ask me about the legality and safe problems in this fic, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, henry is an ok cook actually. with instructions, a potato and a potato peeler are the true villains of this story via https://ift.tt/zcTIgdL

[wrappedinamysteryy]

What is Charity? Shaykh Zubair bin Khalid Marjalvi حفظه الله said:

Charity doesn't just mean giving away wealth. There are other forms of charity:

1️⃣ Saying Subhan Allah, Alhamdulillah, Allahu Akbar, Astaghfirullah and La Ilaha Illalah is charity. [See: Sahih Ibn Hibban 3377]

2️⃣ Saying anything that is good - be it one word - is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2989]

3️⃣ Greeting every person you meet with the Salam is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 720]

4️⃣ Greeting your brother with a smile and pouring water from your vessel into his vessel is charity. [See: Sunan At-Tirmidhi 1956]

5️⃣ Teaching others after having sought knowledge yourself is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 1631]

6️⃣ Dealing between two people with justice and fairness is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2707, 2891, 2989]

7️⃣ Reconciling between people is charity. [See: Al-Mu'jam Al-Kabir 31, Sunan Abu Dawud 4919, Sunan At-Tirmidhi 2509]

8️⃣ Praying two Rakah's in the forenoon is charity on behalf for your bones. [See: Sahih Muslim 720]

9️⃣ Every step taken towards the Masjid to offer the compulsory prayer is counted as charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2989]

1️⃣0️⃣ Refraining from harming others is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2518]

1️⃣1️⃣ Giving respite to someone in difficulty is charity. [See: Sunan Ibn Majah 2418, Musnad Ahmad 23046]

1️⃣2️⃣ Removing something harmful from a road or street is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 1007]

1️⃣3️⃣ Commanding the good, forbidding the evil, helping the blind and deaf and picking/lifting the supplies or materials on behalf of a weak person is charity. [See: Sahih Ibn Hibban 3377]

1️⃣4️⃣ Helping a Muslim brother or a person in need is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari: 1445]

1️⃣5️⃣ Giving someone a ride in your vehicle is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2707, 2891]

1️⃣6️⃣ Taking care of someone's luggage is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2989]

1️⃣7️⃣ Feeding a hungry person is charity. [See: Musnad Ahmad 16647, Sahih Ibn Hibban 374, Al-Sunan Al-Saghir of Al-Bayhaqi 3410)

1️⃣8️⃣ Anything that is eaten from a tree or seed someone planted will be a charity for him. [Sahih Al-Bukhari 2320, 6012]

1️⃣9️⃣ Giving someone water to drink is charity. [See: Sunan Abu Dawud 1680, Sunan An-Nasai 3664]

2️⃣0️⃣ Spending upon your family is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 55, Sunan Abu Dawud 1691, Sunan An-Nasai 3535]

2️⃣1️⃣ Having physical intimacy with your wife is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 720]

2️⃣2️⃣ Benefitting yourselves from the wealth you earned from your own hands is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 145]

2️⃣3️⃣ Spending on your relatives who are poor or aren't financially stable is charity. [See: Sunan An-Nasai 2582, Sunan Ibn Majah 1844]

2️⃣4️⃣ A date given from one's Halal wealth in Allah's path is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 1410]

2️⃣5️⃣ Giving a she-camel or she-goat is the best charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 5608]

📚 The Different forms of Charity p.1-13 [Summarized]

[ao3feed-itafushi]

a condition called love

by earthtodora Megumi gets injured, and the whole incident is causing Yuuji the realization that he might, in fact, be in love with his friend. Chaos ensues. --- "You have a condition." "Yes," Yuuji nodded vigorously. "A, um, a brain thing." "A brain thing," Megumi repeated. The boy didn't look convinced, and Yuuji didn't blame him. He was a terrible liar. "So, I, uh, sometimes, my, brain, uh, gets confused, and, it says stuff, that, uh, isn't true," the pink-haired boy rambled, trying desperately to save the situation. "I-Is that so?" Megumi murmured, his face unreadable. "Yeah," Yuuji mumbled. "Um, it's, it's called, uh, I, forgot what it was called." Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Ieiri Shoko Relationships: Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji Additional Tags: Oblivious Itadori Yuuji, Attempt at Humor, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Feelings Realization, Confessions, First Kiss, Itadori Yuuji Loves Fushiguro Megumi, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor, Pining, Friends to Lovers, Kugisaki Nobara is a Little Shit, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Itadori Yuuji is Bad at Feelings, like really bad from AO3 works tagged 'Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji' https://ift.tt/0VL9myt

[loulouwrites]

The Neighbour (2) . Alfie Solomons

warnings: angst, swearing, dv, peaky blinders stuff

sequel to The Neighbour

(if you like sad endings, like me, ignore this one)

(3377 words)

The shopkeeper smiled at the ten-year-old boy as he gathered the groceries in his arms, offering him a wave as he left the shop, the young boy being careful not to spill the glass bottle of milk that was buried in the crook of his arm. Thomas liked running errands for his parents, it made him feel important. He smiled at the women in the street, offering a nod to the men as he made his way home. He noticed how the mothers would look at him with a warm smile, wishing their children were as helpful as he was, it was well known that Thomas was a polite and useful child, when other children were running through the streets, joyful and carefree, Thomas was helping his mother with whatever she needed help with.

He weaved his way through the streets, the bread and milk secured in his arms, he couldn’t spill any, it would be a waste of money and his father didn’t like it when he wasted money. Thomas didn’t like his father that much, he was okay, he didn’t hurt him and he was gone for most of the day anyways, he could be alright sometimes-like when he helped Thomas with his schoolwork or taught him how to play cards- but Thomas didn’t like it when he shouted at his mum. His dad didn’t hit his mother, he just threw things sometimes, but it made his mum sad, and that made him sad.

Thomas had rounded the corner to his street when a man bumped into him, knocking the groceries out of his arms. The man didn’t stop, leaving Thomas stood there, looking at the ground, where the bottle had smashed against the pavement, the milk running onto the road. He stood there for a while, watching as the stream of milk grew, streaming along the road and into the drain.

“You okay there, Thomas?” the young boy looked up from the mess on the ground to see his neighbour looming over him.

“I’m fine, Mr Solomons,” Thomas sighed, kicking a shard of glass from the bottle with his foot, knowing his mother would kill him if his shoes got scratched “I spilled the milk.”

“There’s a famous saying about spilled milk, y’know,” the older man joked, a small frown on his face as he watched the boy, so sad over a broken bottle of milk.

“It’s a waste of money. Mum won’t care but…” the boy trailed up, his face twisting as he kicked his foot back and forth against the path.

“Your…dad will, yeah?” Thomas just nodded at the man. Thomas liked Mr Solomons; he had lived on the street even before his parents had. His mum didn’t like him that much, he wasn’t sure why because Mr Solomons had always done right by him.

"My dad might not be home yet so it’s okay and if he is, Mum will deal with him.” Mr Solomons sighed at the boy’s words, it sounded like the sigh Thomas’ father did whenever Thomas had been clumsy. He watched as his neighbour reached into his pocket, pulling out some change.

“Right, ‘ere you go. Go and get another pint before your dad gets in.” The boy smiled reaching for the change Mr Solomons was holding out for him, freezing when a feminine voice rang out from behind the older man.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr Solomons.”

Mr Solomons turned around to face Thomas’ mother, who was stood with her hands on her hips, a glare on her face. Thomas didn’t like it when his mother looked angry, he thought she was the prettiest girl in the world, but she didn’t look pretty when she was annoyed.

"It’s alright, just helping the boy,” Mr Solomons’ voice looked calm, but even the ten year old boy could hear the uneasiness in his voice – he mustn’t like it when she’s angry either.

“He doesn’t need your help,” his mother snapped, reaching out an arm towards her son. “Thomas, your father is home, he’d like some help in the garden.” Thomas groaned but walked towards his mother anyway, not forgetting to pick up the bread from the pavement as he did. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and turned to walk towards their home but not before she threw a glare at their kind neighbour who was still stood in place, watching them leave.

..

Alfie wasn’t sure why he didn’t just move. It would save him a lot of pain, it would stop the pang he felt in his stomach every time he bumped into his young neighbour, he wouldn’t feel a sting every time the boy’s mother would rip her child away from him, as if he was a danger. Moving would solve most of his problems, but Alfie knew it wasn’t that simple. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he wasn’t able to look out his window and see the house across the street, keeping a watchful eye on the home of the nice family.

On the nights he came home from the bakery, he would pause at his front door longer than he needed, his head turned so he could see the house across the street. The lights were usually off, telling him everyone was safe and asleep, sometimes there was a warm glow coming from the living room, telling him the parents were still up, and Alfie rolled his eyes each time. He imagined them sat together on the sofa - the wife telling her husband telling her how her day was, what their son did that day - as if she wasn’t living a massive lie.

He came home late that Tuesday night, and the lights were off, but there was something different. Alfie studied the house, noticing a shadow moving from outside, under the steps of the front door.

“For fuck sake,” he muttered to himself, making his way across the road, reaching for the gun that was secured in his belt.

As he crossed the road he wondered if he should stop the figure doing whatever it was they were going to do, he wondered whether he should let the person break in, they’d probably kill the husband first, then he could burst in and rescue the other two residents of the house, and his problems would be solved. But Alfie wasn’t stupid enough to risk the lives of the only two people he cared about on the off chance the other one would die first. So, he slowly crept to where the figure was hiding in the shadows, in the dim spot between two streetlamps. He pulled the gun out of his belt, pointing it directly at the almost-intruder.

“For fuck’s sake, Alfie,” she hissed, her eyes widening at the sight of the gun pointed to her head.

“’For fuck’s sake’ me? What are you hiding under the steps for, you dozy cow?” he shouted at her, as she shushed him, waving her arms furiously.

“Do you only have one volume? Jesus Christ.” She stood up, brushing the back of her dress with her hands. He wasn’t sure what to do, he hadn’t spoken to her properly in ten years, he thought about it a lot. He thought about what he would say to her if he got the chance but as she stood in front of him, he froze, his gun in his hand hanging at his side

“What the fuck are you doin’ out here?” he said, quieter this time as he tucked his gun back in his belt.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I needed some air.”

“So you hide under the steps of your house?” He gave her a sarcastic smile.

“Yes.”

“Listen, love…” he started, he had something he needed to tell her, he knew he had to tell her, she deserved to know more than anyone, but she didn’t let him finish before she pushed past him, back into her house.

...

Thomas didn’t understand why his mum was so upset. He watched as she cooked breakfast, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, she always wore makeup. Her eyes had these awful dark circles under them, they stopped from looking so pretty.

The news of Alfie Solomons death had made it’s way through London like wildfire. Even the most prestigious people were talking about it. He heard his neighbours talking about it all the time ‘good riddance’ they would say ‘one less scumbag on the earth’ others would agree.

His dad had sent him to his room when he dared defend the memory of his dead friend.

“I don’t care what you say. Mr Solomons was always kind to me,” Thomas had said at the dinner table after his dad had joked that the beautiful house opposite would now be available for a nice family.

His mother didn’t step in when his dad shouted at him, she just frowned as she stabbed her potatoes with her fork. It annoyed Thomas, she always defended him. It had been weeks since Mr Solomons was killed, and his mother had been sad ever since. Thomas knew it wasn’t because of Mr Solomons - his mum hated him - it was just a coincidence. She just wasn’t happy anymore, she stopped trying so much, she didn’t try to make nice meals, she didn’t try to make herself look pretty, she just wandered around the house like a ghost.

"I need to run errands, would you like to come with me?" she smiled at the boy, who returned her smile, nodding enthusiastically. They spent almost the whole day at the markets, buying what they needed for dinner, as well as few other treats that they couldn’t tell dad about. Thomas liked running errands with his mum, she would always make a day of it, they would always get lunch somewhere nice and she would buy him sweets to eat on his way home.

Thomas was in his room, throwing a ball against the wall and catching it when it bounced back to him when his mother opened the door. She was wearing makeup again, wearing a nice dress and the expensive perfume his dad got her every Christmas.

“Mum?” He asked as he dug through the paper bag of sweets “Are you okay now?”

“What do you mean?” she asked him, laying a hand on his shoulder as they walked.

“You were really sad for a bit”.

They were giggling as the entered the house, his mother dumped the shopping bags at the door, following him to the living room. They both froze in the doorway, their laughter stopping when they saw his dad sat on the sofa, holding an envelope in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other.

“Thomas,” his dad spoke, not looking at the boy. “Go to your room”

“I was,” his mum agreed. “But I’m okay now. I just needed a couple of weeks to be sad."

“But me and mum are going to make dinner.”

“Go, Thomas,” his dad said, a menacing smile on his face, he didn’t look at his son, his eyes were on his mother, who stood beside the young boy.

“It’s okay, Thomas,” she offered the boy a small smile, pushing him gently to the door. “We’ll make dinner later”

Thomas nodded and made his way upstairs. His door was barely closed when he heard his dad start to scream. It wasn’t unusual, but it felt different this time. His dad was never angry when he came home, he usually got angry when his mum dropped something or said something wrong.

Thomas had been in his room for close to an hour and his dad hadn’t stopped shouting. He slowly made his way out of his room and down the stairs, stopping outside the closed living room door, taking a seat on the floor.

“YOU FUCKING WHORE,” his dad screamed.

“How did you find out?” His mum’s voice was calm, it sounded like she’d been crying, but it was still calm. Calm and lovely.

“THE FUCKING LETTER. THE LETTER THE DEAD BASTARD SENT FROM MARGATE.”

“Wait? Margate?” The laugh Thomas’  dad let out scared the ten year old. It wasn’t like his mum’s laugh, it sounded cruel.

“That’s what you care about?” the man hissed, there was a commotion and Thomas heard his mum gasp

“Get off her!” Thomas ran up to the man, beating his small fists against the mans side, his dad let go of his mum, who fell to the floor, grabbing Thomas by his upper arms, picking him up from the floor.

“I am not dead,” his dad read out dramatically “I am in Margate. Same thing. I am sorry for what I did. My biggest regret is not allowing myself to be shot in the face by a short prick from Birmingham. My biggest regret is turning you away the day you told me you were carrying Thomas. I should have married you, we could have raised Thomas together, as it should have been.”

Thomas frowned, who was the letter from?

“I do not expect you to tell the boy who his real father is. I do not expect you to destroy your life for someone who is most undeserving, but I have been blessed with a second life and I could not live with myself if I did not express my true feelings. If you are stupid enough to come to me, I will be happy to welcome you, and my son, in Margate. Forever yours. ALFIE SOLOMONS,” his dad screamed; Thomas could hear his mum’s sobs which turned into a scream. He threw the door to the living room open, where his dad was holding his mum by her hair as she scratched at the man’s wrists, trying to break free.

“You,” his dad hissed, his teeth bared. Thomas thought he was the ugliest creature in the world “You fucking bastard. I should have known you weren’t mine. That you’re a fucking-“ he didn’t get to finish what he was going to say, a vase crashing against the back of his head, he dropped Thomas as he fell to the ground. Thomas cried, looking at the body of the man on the floor.

“He’s not dead, you fucking bitch. And he was nice enough to send you a letter. Shall we read it together?” There was another commotion, and his mother let out a shriek, the sound of glass shattering.

“Thomas,” his mother whispered, reaching for him but he pushed her away.

“Don’t touch me,” the boy cried. “I HATE YOU. I HATE BOTH OF YOU,” he ran out of the room, up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He waited until his face was buried in his pillow before he allowed himself to cry, the bed shaking from his sobs. His life had been ruined because of his stupid parents.

...

Thomas rested his head against the window of the train, the rocking comforting him. His mother sat beside him, wary of her son, he didn’t understand what had happened, not really. He was only ten years old and his whole world had come crashing down in the space of a couple of hours. She laid a gloved hand on his knee, he was angry at her, but it was still comforting, because he loved her. He fiddled with the letter in his hands, he wanted to read it himself, he didn’t want to hear his dad’s voice when he thought about the words.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered, his voice tired, it was past his bedtime but his mum said they had to leave the house immediately, barely giving him time to pack a bag.

“Some things are too complicated for a little boy, Thomas,” his mum said gently, removing her hand from his knee.

“So did Mr Solomons not want me?” he turned to look at his mother, resting his head against the back of his seat.

“Mr Solomons was very confused. But you said he was always kind to you,” the boy nodded in agreement, his eyes heavy from sleep.

He was awoken some time later by his mother gently shaking his shoulder. They walked out of the train station and Thomas took in the scenery before him. It was dark, but he could hear the faint sounds of birds chirping, the air felt fresher than it did in London, there wasn’t any smog or smoke, it was clean and fresh. He liked it here already.

His mum didn’t know where she was going, she muttered that she’d never been here before, looking down at the map in her right hand, as she gripped his hand with her left. Thomas walked along the wall that separated the beach from the pavement above, he’d never been to the beach before. He couldn’t see much, there weren’t many streetlamps, but he could hear the waves crashing against the wall, his mum said it was because the tide was in, that in the morning it would go back and there would be sand.

They eventually found the house, it was big, bigger than his house in London. He could feel butterflies in his stomach as his mother knocked on the door, it felt like they doubled when the light inside flickered on, muttering coming from inside. The door swung open, Thomas’ old friend stood on the other side, the boy’s eyes widened when he saw the man’s face, scarred and ugly, but not as ugly as his dad.

“The fuck are you two doin’ ‘ere?” Mr Solomons spat at the mother and son and Thomas’ head fell in disappointment at the man’s words. He really didn’t want him. His mum was about to speak when Mr Solomons face broke out into a grin “I’m just joking you two, you got my letter. Come in, come in,” he ushered them into the house, it was cluttered and dusty but Thomas found it comforting, it wasn’t cold and bare like his house.

Mr Solomons lead them to the living room, taking a seat on the chair, motioning for them to sit on the sofa. It was quiet for some time, his mum was sat stiffly next to him, Mr Solomons was studying them, a small smile on his face. Thomas tried to stifle a yawn in vain, his eyes still felt droopy, despite his excitement.

“How about we talk in the morning, kid? You need your rest.” Thomas nodded and allowed Mr Solomons to lead him to a bedroom, it wasn’t as cluttered as the other rooms in the house, it was bigger than his old bedroom, it just needed some toys. Thomas kicked off his shoes, lying down on the soft bed.

“Mr Solomons?” He called out sleepily to the man who was stood in the doorway, who hummed in response “I’m glad you’re my real dad.”

Mr Solomons coughed quietly, closing the door to his room slightly, but leaving it open just enough for a stream of warm light to come through.

[sskk-ao3feed]

Wrapped Up Like a Present

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YjMl5HK by MikayuuMouse Atsushi has a Christmas surprise for Akutagawa that involves ribbons and a mini skirt. ~~ Basically just a Christmas sskk smut for the holidays hehe Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 4 of chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons, one single thread of gold tied me to you (Shin Soukoku oneshots) Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs) Relationships: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Content, Top Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Bottom Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Top Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Bottom Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Riding, Nakajima Atsushi Has a Praise Kink (Bungou Stray Dogs), Christmas Presents, Gay Sex, Sex, I'm Going to Hell, Mentioned Izumi Kyouka (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mentioned Miyazawa Kenji (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mentioned Yosano Akiko (Bungou Stray Dogs) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YjMl5HK

[ao3feed-nace]

The last life

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/G8PKLxo by Vardo_Abernathy Для чего дана последняя жизнь? Исправить ошибки прошлого или исправить ошибки наших п��едков? Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Русский Series: Part 2 of Nancy Drew Fandoms: Nancy Drew (TV 2019) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Nancy Drew, Ace (Nancy Drew), Bess Marvin, Ned Nickerson, George Fayne, Tristan Glass Relationships: Ace/Nancy Drew Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Psychology, Feelings Realization, The Death Cure Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Epic Friendship, Missing Scene read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/G8PKLxo

[broomballkraken]

Title: Like Fine Wine

Fandom: Fields of Mistria

Pairing(s): Terithia/Landen/Errol

Word count: 3377

Warnings: Implied Sexual Content

Summary: Terithia didn’t know how it happened, but she somehow managed to fall in love with both of her best friends at the same time. As she struggles to come to terms with her conflicting feelings, she meets Landen and Errol for dinner and drinks, where the tension finally reaches a breaking point…between all three of them.

It had been an average spring day in Mistria for Terithia. Up before the sun, she scarfed down a quick breakfast of canned sardines before heading off to do some river fishing until noon. She stopped by the inn for a hearty lunch and made her way to the beach in the afternoon to hopefully fish up something special for dinner tonight, for she would not be dining alone.

Meeting with Errol and Landen for dinner on a regular basis was nothing new for Terithia. They were best friends after all, and had been ever since she moved to town and they all hit it off right away. Theirs was a treasured relationship that she’d never had with anyone else before.

Terithia’s ocean fishing turned out to be a rousing success, and she quickly made her way home with a basket full of fresh mackerel. Errol liked them grilled, she knew for a fact, and Landen also happened to be a fan. She breezed through the messy cleaning part of the process, and in no time at all, she had three mackerel fillets grilling to perfection, filling her house with a delicious aroma.

Normally she wouldn’t bother cooking her own fish, preferring to take her catch to the inn and have it cooked up there. Her company tonight, however, made her want to pull out all the stops herself, and it wasn’t just because Errol and Landen were her best friends…

It was also because she was in love...with both of them.

Terithia winced as the knife she was using to cut up vegetables slipped from her grasp, coming dangerously close to slicing her fingers open. Biting her lip, she took in a calming breath, letting it out slowly before resuming her dinner preparations. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she had fallen in love with Errol and Landen, but what she did know was that it was getting harder and harder to keep her feelings to herself as time went on.

Hiding them seemed like her only option, however. Terithia was held back by the fact that she had no damn clue if either man saw her in a romantic way, and she sure as hell didn’t want to potentially jeopardize their friendship by expressing feelings that wouldn’t be reciprocated; Terithia knew that would make things incredibly awkward, for her at least.

So for now, Terithia had to bite her tongue and endure Landen’s suave and playful teasing, or Errol’s endearing lectures about any new museum donations and his heaping praise whenever Terithia told him about her successful fishing ventures. That was far easier said than done...

When she had finished cooking and set three places at her dinner table, a broad smile crossed Terithia’s face when she heard a loud series of knocks. She made her way to the door, slow enough so that she could fluff up her hair and push her bangs out of her face, and she opened it to find her favorite people in the world.

“Evening, Terithia!” Landen said, winking as he stepped inside with Errol just behind him. “Whew, I’m glad we made it before the storm started back up!”

Errol nodded in agreement. “We were rather lucky. The rain stopped just long enough for us to get here.”

“Heh, that is lucky!” Terithia beamed as she shut the door, trying and failing to calm her rapidly-beating heart as the three went over to the dining table. “But, it did allow me to fish up tonight’s dinner, so I can’t say the rain’s all bad, kya ha ha!”

The way Landen was smiling at her gave Terithia pause, and she could only hope that she looked away in time to hide the flush in her cheeks. Errol chuckled, which was an incredibly pleasant sound that never failed to make Terithia’s heart skip a beat. He set the bag he had been carrying on the table and reached inside.

“I baked up a hefty helping of sweetroot. That new farmer’s got quite a knack for finding them,” Errol said, and Landen laughed and slapped a hand to his back.

“Ha! That really takes me back!” he said, slapping his other hand to Terithia’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Remember when we used to roast up the sweetroot that Errol brought back from the mines? Those were some great times.”

“They sure were.” Terithia couldn’t help but smile when the memories came flooding back to her, but she frowned when Landen removed his hand from her shoulder.

Setting his own bag on the table next to Errol’s, Landen pulled two large bottles out of it. “This wine is my contribution tonight. Balor got a hold of a nice vintage, and at a discount too!”

“Nice! Sometimes I wonder how Balor can afford to do that kinda thing.”

“You’re not the only one. Nora’s been trying to get him to spill his secret for ages now,” Errol said, causing Terithia to bark out a laugh.

“Kya ha ha! She’d have an easier time trying to get Holt to quit it with the puns, or getting March to be nice to the new farmer.”

Errol and Landen laughed along with her, and they all settled into their routine dinner. The mackerel was good, but Terithia new that Jo or Reina would have done a better job cooking it. That fact didn’t stop Landen and Errol from gushing about how delicious it was, and Terithia hoped that the blush that rose upon her cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

As they ate, the trio fell into a familiar pattern of pleasant conversation. Terithia regaled the men with how her day of fishing went, while Landen showed off some new furniture concept sketches, which he quickly confirmed to be strictly for fun and Ryis’ training when Terithia reminded him that he was supposed to be retired.

Errol proudly talked about how well the museum was doing, especially since the new farmer started donating the various specimens and artifacts that they came across. It warmed Terithia’s heart to see how happy they both were, but a pit of longing formed deep inside her gut; she wished that they could do this kind of thing every single night.

After they had finished their dinner and dessert, Terithia found herself lounging on the couch in between Errol and Landen, and the latter smiled as he held up a half empty bottle of wine.

“Another glass?”

Terithia gave him a vigorous nod. “Well, sure!”

“Yes, please,” Errol said, and Landen was quick to fill all three of their glasses.

“Cheers, to treasured friends,” Landen said as he held up his glass.

“To treasured friends!”

The word ‘friends’ hung heavy in the air, and Terithia couldn’t stop a slight frown from crossing her lips as she took a sip of her wine. Sure, she wouldn’t trade her friendship with Landen and Errol for the world, but that didn’t stop her from hoping that it would grow into something more...

Terithia was glad that the wine was so good, as that helped to distract her from her negative thoughts. Letting out a content sigh and licking her lips, she said, “Ah, delicious! And aged to perfection, as the fancy folk would day, kya ha ha!”

“If you’ll let me be so bold,” Landen said, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes as he swirled his glass, “you’ve sure aged like fine wine, Terithia.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Errol was quick to add, and Terithia barely managed to keep herself from choking on her drink. Damn it, it was comments like that that made it so hard for Terithia to keep her mouth shut about her feelings. If they kept this up...

Terithia cleared her throat before letting out a half-hearted chuckle. “Well, that goes double for you two then.” They both offered up some light laughter as well, but when it faded a heavy, awkward tension settled upon the room, like fog suddenly rolling in from the sea in the wee hours of the morning.

Swallowing thickly, Terithia cast a sidelong glance at Landen, who was staring so intensely at his glass that she thought he might burn a hole in it. She then looked at Errol, who had gone a bit pale in the face; she hoped that her dinner hadn’t made him sick...

Terithia stared down at her hands, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. What if Landen and Errol had figured out that she loved them? Maybe they were so quiet because they were thinking about how to let her down easy? The very thought made Terithia’s heart sink into her stomach, but she gave her head a quick shake and grit her teeth. No, that couldn’t be it...but she would never know if she never asked. She knew what she needed to do now.

“Is something wrong, Terithia?”

Landen’s concerned voice snapped Terithia from her thoughts, and she chewed on her bottom lip and leaned back against the couch. “No, it’s just...got a lot on my mind.”

Errol crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes locking with hers. “Do you need to talk about it? We’re all ears.”

‘Here we go...It’s now or never.’

Downing the rest of her wine and setting the empty glass onto the coffee table, Terithia took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever happened after she asked the two men seated next to her a question:

“So...this might be - ah, no, it is - a weird question, but...” She felt her face heat up when both Errol and Landen turned to face her fully with eyebrows raised.

“Have either of you ever...been in love with more than one person, at the same time?” She winced, preparing herself for their inevitable laughter at such a ridiculous notion, but it did not come.

Instead, Landen shot up straight as an arrow, and Errol choked a bit as he spit out the wine that he had been trying to drink. Terithia blinked, confused, as she gave Errol a few firm smacks on the back to clear his airway.

“Er, ahem...” Landen said when Errol had recovered, and he averted his gaze as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Funny you should ask, because my answer...is yes.”

“...M-Mine too, actually.” Errol’s cheeks had gone pink, and Terithia had to pick her jaw up off of the floor as she looked between the two as if they both had grown a second head.

“You...oh, u-uh...” Terithia fumbled over her words, and it took a moment for her to force out a coherent sentence. “I-I see, and do any of those feelings still...linger?”

To her immense surprise, both men nodded in response, Errol’s face flushing red while Landen cleared his throat, and Terithia swallowed thickly before asking her next - and most important - question:

“...and are either of those people in this room right now?”

“Yeah, both of them.”

“It’s the same for me.”

Terithia smacked her hands against her thighs and squeezed hard to keep herself from squealing like an infatuated schoolgirl whose crush had just asked her to attend the Spring Festival with them (she would have never lived that down.) The wave of relief that swept over her threatened to knock her right off the couch, but she managed to collapse against the back instead.

“So, you two are telling me that you’ve been in love with me - and each other - and me with you, and we’ve all been keeping it to ourselves because...?”

“I wasn’t sure if either of you felt the same way, and I didn’t want to muck up our friendship if I was wrong,” Landen said as he tugged at his collar with a rare, shy smile on his face.

Errol averted his gaze and scratched at his beard. “I...was just really nervous.”

Looking between the two of them, Terithia barely managed to hold back a laugh. Well, she felt incredibly foolish now for keeping her feelings all bottled up like that, but the overwhelming happiness that swept over her entire being in this moment was quick to eclipse anything else.

Terithia sighed and dragged her hand down her face. “Well, don’t do that again. I’m too damn old to be fretting that much.” She decided to pretend that she hadn’t also put off confessing her feelings for way too damn long.

That mischievous glint reappeared in Landen’s eyes, and he reached out to take Terithia’s hand. “I don’t know about that. Like we said before, you’ve aged quite well, right Errol?”

Errol smiled and shared a knowing glance with Landen, before they both leaned over to place a kiss on Terithia’s cheeks, causing her heart to race and face to flush with heat.

“Mmm, like fine wine indeed...” Landen whispered, his lips brushing against Terithia’s skin as he spoke, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

Errol chuckled, and the deep, rumbling vibration made his lips tickle her skin, and he managed to coax a light laugh out of her.

“The finest.”

Well, this was certainly going to take some getting used to, and Terithia could barely hear herself think over the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears. Her face felt hot and stayed that way, even when Landen and Errol finally pulled away.

“You two sure are laying it on thick,” Terithia said with a chuckle, and she gasped when Landen’s hand cupped her cheek, making her turn her head to look at him.

“Not thick enough for me, I’m afraid.” Landen’s voice had dropped low, and his face had moved dangerously close to hers. Terithia’s breath caught in her throat at the intense look in his pretty brown eyes, and she thought her heart was going to burst from her chest when he leaned in to press their lips together in a soft, tender kiss.

Terithia had her fair share of first kisses in her life, but none could hold a candle to just how right this one felt...but she had a feeling that her next one would be just as unforgettable.

Landen pulled away first, and he lifted her hand to his face to place a kiss on the back of it, causing Terithia’s heart to skip a beat. His gaze moved to the man sitting at her other side, and she turned around to face Errol, who was watching her and Landen with a deep fondness in his eyes, as if he was looking at the most precious of treasures. Terithia smiled and reached up to cup his face, her fingers settling in his soft beard. She wasted no time and pulled him close, causing him to let out a startled ‘oh!’

“Your turn,” Terithia whispered, her lips lightly grazing his as she spoke, and she kissed him before giving him a chance to respond. He seemed a bit stunned, but he made a swift recovery and cupped Terithia’s face, tilting her head so that he could deepen the kiss. Oh yes, she was very right; this kiss was just as incredible.

When they parted, Terithia felt light-headed in the best way possible. She had finally kissed the men that she had harbored so much love for, and it was a moment that she would never, ever forget.

A cheeky smile crossed her face and she leaned against the couch again, looking back and forth between Landen and Errol, who were suddenly acting quite bashful. Rolling her eyes, Terithia leaned back further against the couch and reached out to grab both of their hands.

“C’mon, don’t be shy now. You two still have to seal the deal,” she teased, tugging them towards each other. She laughed when Errol’s face somehow flushed a darker shade of red and Landen sputtered; Terithia didn’t think she’d ever seen the latter look so flustered.

Landen smiled fondly and reached out with his free hand to take Errol’s. “Heh, sorry Errol. I thought I could keep my cool for a bit longer, but...finding out I’m loved by not one but two incredible people is a bit overwhelming, even for me.”

Errol averted his gaze for a moment, and he gave Landen’s hand a gentle squeeze when he looked back at him. “I...feel the same way. It is quite a...surreal feeling, actually.”

“Yeah.”

“Y-Yeah...”

“Get on with it!” Terithia said, rolling her eyes and giving both of their hands a few quick squeezes each.

“You’re a bit too excited for thi-” Landen started, but he found it hard to continue speaking with Errol’s lips pressed against his. His startled noise was muffled by the kiss, and Terithia watched the intimate moment with an overwhelming look of adoration in her eyes. She never imagined that this routine dinner of theirs would turn out quite like this, but Terithia was so glad it did.

When Errol and Landen pulled away from each other, both breathless and with a sparkle in their eyes, Terithia slipped her arms behind both of their backs and pulled them flush against her. Landen chuckled and wrapped his arm around her waist as he nuzzled his cheek against hers, while Errol leaned down to place a kiss against her temple.

“Errol, Landen…I love you,” Terithia said as her arms tightened around them, “and I’m really damn happy that I can finally say that out loud.” All three of them chuckled at that, and Landen brushed his lips against Terithia’s cheek before lifting Errol’s hand to his face and kissing his knuckles.

“I love you both too,” Landen said with a wink. “Can’t say that I’ve ever felt this strongly about anyone else before either.”

Errol wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling them even closer together before he placed a kiss onto both of their foreheads. “And I love you two as well, with all that I am.”

There was no trace of the awkward tension that had filled the room before, and all that was left in its wake was a comfortable, secure feeling that could only come from being cuddled up to the two men that Terithia loved more than anyone else. She let out a content sigh, feeling herself practically melt into their embrace, until she was startled by a loud crack of thunder.

“Oh my,” Errol said, rubbing his chin as he looked out the window. “It seems that the storm has returned, and with a vengeance.”

“Ah, listen to that pattering rain on the roof!” Landen said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against Terithia’s shoulder. “Like music you could dance to!”

Terithia laughed at that, and she hummed thoughtfully as a sly grin crossed her face. “Looks like it might storm all night long. You two better stay here tonight.”

Landen raised an eyebrow at her, before throwing his arm over her shoulder and gently traced her jawline with his finger. “You say that as if we weren’t already planning on staying.”

“I agree.”

Terithia felt a heat begin to stir within her gut, and she twisted herself so that her legs were thrown over Landen’s lap, while she leaned back and rest her head on Errol’s thighs.

“You know…it’s pretty rude to just assume that you can stay overnight at someone’s place,” she said, and she shivered when Landen ran a languid hand over her thigh and chuckled.

“Hmm, well, I’m sure Errol and I can find some way to make it up to you, right?” Landen shared a sultry glance with the larger man, who brought a hand to his face and cleared his throat.

“Yes, I’m sure we can think of something that would be quite beneficial…for all of us,” Errol said, his voice dropping low enough to almost resemble a growl, and that sent another shiver down Terithia’s spine.

“Let’s get on with it then.” Terithia didn’t have to ask twice, and it didn’t take long at all for the three best friends turned lovers to lose themselves completely in each other…

When Terithia woke up the next morning - blissfully happy, sore in all the right places, and wedged rather snugly between Landen and Errol - one thought and one thought alone crossed her mind:

‘I need to get a bigger bed...’

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 21/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 3377

A/N: This is part 21 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at your reflection, the tumult of emotions swirling within you threatened to overwhelm you. Jay's presence in your life had brought moments of joy and comfort, but now faced with the prospect of intimacy, you found yourself grappling with feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

Your mind wandered back to Ben, his absence palpable yet his memory hauntingly present. Could you truly move forward with someone else, knowing the lingering shadow of Ben hung over you?

The sound of Jay's voice outside the bathroom door broke through your reverie, a reminder of the present moment and the person waiting on the other side. Part of you longed to confide in him, to share the inner turmoil consuming you, but another part hesitated, fearing his reaction and the potential fallout of your honesty.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?". His tone was gentle, laced with concern. "You seem… off. Is there something you want to talk about?".

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. Jay's genuine concern only served to amplify the turmoil within you. How could you explain the maelstrom of emotions churning inside your chest without delving into the depths of your past?

"I'm… I'm fine", you replied, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Just… dealing with some things".

There was a moment of silence before Jay spoke again, his tone softer now, filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you".

His words tugged at something deep within you, a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

"I know", you murmured. "I just… need some time to sort things out".

You stepped out of the bathroom, your eyes red.

"C´mere", he whispered.

Feeling Jay’s arms envelop you in a comforting embrace, you let out a shaky breath, momentarily finding solace in his warmth. But his next words shattered the fragile calm that had settled over you.

“I just… I can’t shake this feeling”, Jay murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he held you close. “It’s like… I’m all in, you know? But sometimes it feels like you’re… not as committed to this as I am. I know we haven't been together that long, but it feels like you don't really want the whole thing”.

His words hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the unspoken tensions simmering beneath the surface of your relationship. You swallowed hard, the guilt of withholding your true feelings threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, your voice tinged with regret. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way. It’s just… complicated”.

Jay pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours for answers. “Complicated how?”, he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes urged you to be honest.

“There’s… someone else”, you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Was someone else, I… I don´t know. It´s someone from my… past, I guess. And I… I’m still trying to figure out what that means for me… for us”.

Jay’s expression faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. “I see”, he said quietly, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “I guess I always knew there was something more”.

You reached out to touch his arm, a silent plea for understanding. “It’s not that I don’t care about you”, you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s just… complicated”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your confession hanging heavily between you.

Feeling Jay’s gaze fixed on you, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to share a glimpse of the tangled web that had ensnared your heart.

“We had… a connection, a deep one. But things didn’t end well”.

Jay listened intently, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And now”, you whispered, the words barely “now I’m here, with you. But… but part of me still feels tied to him, to what we had”.

Jay looked down at you, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of compassion and uncertainty.

"Are you sure you're ready for a new relationship?", he asked. "I mean, if part of you still feels tied to him… it's okay to take more time to figure things out".

Your heart ached at his words, the truth of his question hitting you with a force you hadn't anticipated. Were you truly ready to move on, to fully commit to a new relationship?

You shrugged, unable to meet Jay's gaze as a pang of guilt washed over you. "I don't know", you admitted. "I want to be, but… it's hard".

A flicker of hurt crossed Jay's features at your words, his shoulders slumping slightly as he struggled to mask his disappointment. "I understand", he said quietly, though the pain in his eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings. "I just… I want you to be happy, whatever that means for you… for us".

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to him, desperate to ease the ache you had caused. "I'm sorry", you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't want to hurt you".

Jay enveloped you again in a gentle embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of your own indecision. "It's okay", he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. "We'll figure it out together, okay?".

And as you clung to him, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on you.

With everything swirling in your mind, you felt as though you were losing yourself in the chaos. The person you once knew, the one who had made promises and believed in love, seemed like a distant memory now.

After letting yourself in with Ben, you were pretending to be someone you weren't. And now, with Jay, you had thrown yourself into a new relationship, hoping to find solace in his kindness and affection. But in the process, you were hurting him, and the realization cut you to the core.

As Jay held you close, offering comfort and understanding despite the turmoil within you, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at your insides. How could you continue to deceive him, to pretend that everything was fine when you were barely holding yourself together?

More tears welled in your eyes as you buried your face in Jay's chest, seeking refuge from the storm raging within you. "I don't know who I am anymore", you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jay held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. "It's okay", he whispered, his voice filled with compassion. "We'll figure it out together. Just… be honest with me, okay? That's all I ask".

You nodded against his chest.

Jay held you close, his arms a comforting embrace as he gently brushed his hand over your back, soothing the ache that had settled deep within you.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear. "When was the last time you visited your mom, or your family? Or at least met with some friends?".

His question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the isolation that had gradually encroached upon your life in recent weeks. You thought back, trying to recall the last time you had reached out to anyone outside of your interactions with Jay, but the memory eluded you.

"I… I don't know", you admitted. "It's been a while. I've been so caught up in everything… I guess I lost track of time".

Jay's embrace tightened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the loneliness that had crept into your life unnoticed. "Maybe… maybe it's time to reach out to them. They care about you, you know?".

Again you nodded against his chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

Jay pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Come on", he said softly, his voice tender as he gently pulled away from your embrace. "Let's go back to the living room".

As you settled back onto the couch, Jay wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close as if to reassure himself of your presence. His touch was gentle, yet persistent, as he continued to brush his hand over your arm in a comforting gesture.

With each stroke, a sense of calm washed over you, the weight of your worries momentarily lifted by Jay's unwavering affection. Just like it has been for the last few weeks.

As you nestled into his embrace, Jay let out a soft sigh, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

"I think… I think you need to figure out your feelings", he murmured, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "I don't want to push you into anything, but… I really like you. And… and I do not want to lose you. Whether as a girlfriend or just a friend".

His admission hung in the air, a vulnerable confession of his own desires and fears. You turned to look at him, finding solace in the warmth of his gaze as he continued.

"So maybe… maybe we can take it slow", Jay suggested, his voice tentative yet hopeful. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can just… see where things go".

His words resonated within you, a gentle reminder that healing and growth often came with time and patience. You nodded in agreement, a sense of relief washing over you as you leaned into his embrace.

"Thank you", you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For understanding".

Jay smiled softly, his fingers kept tracing soothing circles on your arm. "Always", he replied. "I'm here for you, no matter what".

In the days that followed, Jay and you spent countless hours talking, sharing stories, and getting to know each other on a deeper level. His presence became a source of comfort and stability, grounding you in the midst of uncertainty.

With each conversation, you felt pieces of yourself falling back into place, like a puzzle slowly being reassembled. Jay's patience and understanding gave you the space to explore your feelings and rediscover the person you once were.

One day, feeling a newfound sense of confidence and belonging, you suggested visiting the team again. Jay readily agreed, eager to meet the people who had played such a significant role in your life.

After introducing Jay to the others, everyone told you about the latest events, gave you an update on Homelander, and told you what it was like in the executive suite at Vought. Despite the distance and time apart, the bond you shared with them remained as strong as ever.

As the evening stretched on, you found yourselves gathered at a cozy bar with Hughie, Annie and Jay. Annie told you about her temporary leading position at vought.

You listened with admiration as she described the challenges and triumphs of her new role, marveling at her resilience and determination. Despite the pressures she faced, Annie seemed to thrive in the leadership position.

Meanwhile, Jay struck up a conversation with Hughie, the two of them quickly hitting it off. They exchanged stories and shared laughs, bonding over their mutual interests and experiences. You watched with a smile as Jay's easygoing charm drew Hughie out of his shell, the two of them becoming fast friends.

After a while, Annie led you to the bar to get some new drinks, the lively chatter of Hughie and Jay faded into the background, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you waited for the bartender to take your order, Annie leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"So, what's the deal with you and Jay?", she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I have to say, I really like him. You've definitely hit a good one".

You smiled weakly, grateful for Annie's support but unable to shake the weight of your own uncertainty. "He's great", you admitted, your voice tinged with hesitation. "But… I'm still trying to figure things out".

Annie nodded in understanding, her expression sympathetic. "I get it", she said softly. "But just know that Jay really cares about you. And if anyone can help you through whatever you're going through, it's him".

You sighed, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know", you murmured, a pang of guilt tugging at your heart. "I just wish things weren't so… complicated".

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she leaned in closer, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“You need to forget about Ben”, she insisted, her tone firm. “He’s not worth your time or your heartache. You have someone amazing right in front of you, someone who genuinely cares about you”.

You nodded, knowing deep down that Annie was right. But as much as you wanted to let go, the pull of your feelings for Ben remained stubbornly strong.

“I know”, you replied softly, your voice filled with resignation. “But it’s not that easy. Ben… he made me feel things no one else ever could, or ever will”.

Annie rolled her eyes, her disdain for Ben evident in the way her lips curled into a frown. “Yeah, well, he was also a huge dick most of the time”, she muttered under her breath.

You couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at her bluntness. “That’s true”, you admitted with a rueful smile. “But despite everything, there was still something about him…”.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she reached out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. “But you deserve someone who treats you right”.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I know Ben wasn't always ideal", you began, your voice tinged with emotion. "But he… he literally risked his life for me so many times… We, he, was special. We had something special".

"If there was really something special, he wouldn't have just left", she said bluntly, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

The truth in Annie's words cut deep, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. You knew she was right, that Ben's departure had left a gaping hole in your heart that seemed impossible to fill. But despite the pain, a part of you couldn't let go of the memories, the moments of connection and intimacy that had once brought you so much joy.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the words to respond."But… it's not that simple…".

Annie reached out to you, her touch gentle as she wiped away your tears. "I'm sorry", she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want you to be happy, that's all".

As you walked back to the table with Annie by your side, you couldn't shake the weight of her words echoing in your mind. With a heavy heart, you stole a glance at her, a silent plea for comfort and understanding.

"He didn't even say goodbye", you mumbled, the bitterness of the truth lingering on your tongue.

"He's just an asshole", she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But he… had his reasons", you replied quietly, thinking about russia, though even you weren't entirely convinced by your own words.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she linked her arm with yours. "Maybe", she conceded, her voice softening. "But that doesn't excuse the way he treated you. You deserve better than that".

In the apartment, Butcher, MM and Frenchie sat in tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Frenchie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his brow furrowed with worry. “I don’t like lying to (y/n)”, he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with guilt.

Butcher let out a frustrated groan, his frustration palpable in the air. “If (y/n) knew we had captured Soldier Boy, she’d be on the next flight to free him”, he grumbled, his tone laced with bitterness.

MM glanced between his companions, his expression grave. “We can’t risk it”, he said firmly, his voice a quiet reminder of the stakes at hand.

Frenchie let out a frustrated grunt, his unease bubbling to the surface. "If that ever comes out, (y/n) will hate us all", he muttered.

Butcher's jaw tightened at the thought, his frustration boiling over into anger. "She won't find out", he snapped, his tone harsh and uncompromising. "No one is spilling the beans, understand?".

MM nodded in agreement, his expression solemn as he met Butcher's steely gaze. "We'll keep our mouths shut", he affirmed. "He wasn't good for her, Frenchie. He just used her".

But Frenchie shook his head adamantly, his brow furrowed with disagreement. "I don't think so", he interjected, his voice firm with conviction. "I think he really did love her".

Butcher scoffed at Frenchie's assertion, his skepticism evident in the way he narrowed his eyes. "Love? That's a load of rubbish", he retorted, his tone dismissive. "He's a bloody supe, Frenchie. They don't know the first thing about love".

Frenchie bristled at Butcher's words. "Clearly you didn't see the way he looked at her", he countered. "There was something real there, I'm telling you".

MM glanced between Butcher and Frenchie, a troubled expression crossing his features. "Maybe", he conceded reluctantly. "But even if he did love her, it doesn't change the fact that he's a liability now. We can't afford to have him jeopardize us".

Turning back towards Annie, you couldn't shake the nagging question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind. "But don't you think it's strange he didn't even say goodbye?", you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, we were kinda friends, right?".

Annie raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression incredulous. "Friends?", she echoed, her tone laced with disbelief. "You're for real, (y/n)?".

You flushed slightly, taken aback by Annie's reaction. "Well, maybe not friends exactly," you admitted sheepishly. "But we… we had something".

Until now, you hadn't told anyone how much had actually happened between you and Ben, even if everyone could already guess.

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she shook her head. "I don't know what you had with Ben", she replied, her tone softer now. "But whatever it was, it's over now. You deserve better than someone who would just up and leave without a word".

Despite your best efforts to move forward, being back with the team brought a flood of emotions rushing back, intensifying the ache of missing Ben. Every corner of the room seemed to whisper his name, every familiar face a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared.

You found yourself lost in memories, replaying moments spent with Ben in your mind like a broken record. His absence felt like a gaping hole in the fabric of your reality, a void that no amount of distraction could fill.

And as you navigated through the days, the longing for Ben weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over even the most joyous moments. Despite the passage of time, the pain of his absence remained raw and unyielding.

And as you struggled to reconcile the past with the present, you couldn't shake the feeling that despite your best efforts, you were still trapped in a cycle of longing and loss.

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A/N: I hope this chapter makes you feel a little better :D There's still so much planned guys, just wait. Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 22

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth @artemys-ackles @selfdestructionandrhum @mystic-mara

[sterek-ao3feed-archive]

Teen Wolf New Moon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55455991 by zzeacat Preface Stiles was living a nightmare. One of the ones that he had awoken from screaming night after night these past months. One of those nightmares where you awake still panting and sweating from all the running dream you had been doing. Running for your life even though you can never seem to run fast enough. But Stiles wasn’t running for his life. His life was of little consequence to himself right now. The thought of the enemies he was about to face alone was more comforting than frightening. He was glad to know failure would most definitely end in his death. Because if he failed in this, he would lose that which gave him the will to live. So with false confidence, Stile strode into the harsh light and out from the shadows. Aka part 2 of my Twilight rewrite but Sterek. New Moon addition. Featuring Stiles being left by Derek because of plot reasons plenty of angst NO love triangle. I took New Moon and gave it my own twist to fit these two. Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Twilight saga Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Talia Hale, Cora Hale Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Twilight AU, New Moon AU, Werewolves, Mates, Spark Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Depression, stiles gets sad, But then you knew that, because New Moon, It Gets Better, Scott is suipid, Kidnapping, Protective Stiles Stilinski, The red hoodie tm, Temporary Amnesia, Hospitals, Panic Attacks read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55455991

[ao3feed-peterstiles]

for a soft place to fall

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44380327

by noxum

Stiles, sick and attempting to avoid a demanding alpha/best friend, seeks out the one person he knows he'll be safe with.

Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf)

Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Spark Stiles Stilinski, Beta Peter Hale, Sickfic, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Hurt/Comfort, like 90 percent comfort 10 percent hurt, Soft Peter Hale, Soft Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Peter Hale, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44380327