#so if anything is incoherent it’s cause i’m so sleepy always and forever

[sonic-adventure-3]

I accidentally drew the same goddamn pose 3 times lmao. Why is posing legs so hard i always fall back on posing them in the shape of a 4. Also, new freak!! Her name is Jerryjack. More about her + individual images + couple other things below the cut vvv

I don’t think I’ve posted any drawings of her other than her first, but i’ve been drawing rig a lot more like this rather than that first one. More graphic head shape, more upright ears, one eye hidden, mouth hidden by scarf, what have you. I think she looks cooler and is way easier to draw like this, but is a little less sonicy, im sure I’ll find a balance sometime. Rare carrion non-blep, this pose is cool but i did not even try cleaning this up lol.

And jerryjack!! She sucks so bad i love her. They’re Rig’s best friend, known each other since they were kids and learned the trade (killing) under the same mentor. She’s 11 months older than Rig, so she’s about 25ish. She hates consistency, commitment, seriousness, kids, stagnation, compassion, anything boring, and many many other things. She loves anything fun, stirring shit, lying, inflicting blunt force trauma, herself, lockpicking, and money. She’s purely self-interested and does everything she does for funsies. She’s not a part of the postal crew cause she thinks it’s boring and is allergic to commitment but hangs around and ‘helps out’ sometimes. She’s a hitman on her own, and has way more connections through that than rig, occasionally floats jobs her way. Also sometimes places bounties on her when shes mad. Or just cause.

Unlike Jerry, Rig is a very routine and organized person. She wakes up every morning at 6 sharp despite not being a morning person. Miraculously, she and jerry lived together for 2 years and during that time rig ate microwaved oatmeal every single morning and got groceries on tuesdays. All this is to say Rig is very methodical and likes routing and things that are expected. So Jerry lost their shit when rig called them randomly and casually told them that she’s starting a non-euphemistic postal service and also spontaneously took in a couple kids. Naturally, she’s very wary of squabble and carrion, especially the latter. Assassin recognizes assassin, silly recognizes silly, they try to kill each other and then become besties (who still periodically attempt to kill each other). As for squabble, she’s surprisingly fun to interact with, so jerry warms up fairly quick and becomes a truly awful influence on her.

Here’s the first drafts and base. She’s obviously a jackalope but calls herself a hare for some reason. Is part of that reason because i couldn’t think of a pun name other than jack like jackrabbit and ‘jack the jackalope’ sounded a little too stupid for my taste (as if ‘jerryjack’ isn’t stupider)? Ummmmmmm.

Anyway, i decided to nix the asymmetrical antlers cause theres a limit to how much asymmetry i should stuff into a set of characters, carrion’s already got the lopped off ear and etc. the back and tail marking is supposed to emulate ribs

I’m still super duper undecided on jerry’s outfit and colour scheme. Every outfit ive thought up so far feels way too simple or untethered to reality in comparison to the postal crew’s, however i think the postal crew is a bit too complicated (or way too complicated in squabble’s case) and too grounded for sonic, so. Idk what to do abt that. And as for their colour scheme, as seen above her first drafts have the same red and green of the postal crew, but seeing as she doesn’t work with them it’s definitely the better choice to diverge from that. Saturated orange is the most tense and unsettling colour to me so i think it suits her off putting nature, but the white and orange combo reminds me intensely of like. 1960s egg chairs. WAIT and ulala space channel 5. And various stupid tech startup kitchen gadgets. Just generally a combo with a lot of nonthreatening and safe associations rather than the warning sign i want. Idk man i’ll workshop it eventually.

Also, cloak rig. Her previous red coat was stupid. Not sure how much smarter this is but it looks cooler. Still doesn’t usually wear it other than in towns to hide her wings or when it’s cold. Also also this is the same fucking pose again

#Sooooooo sleepy rn #so if anything is incoherent it’s cause i’m so sleepy always and forever #doodles #ocs #oc posting #sonic oc #rig the fox-bat #carrion the cat #jerryjack the hare #super awful at getting stuff out of my head so idk how well i explained them or got across their vibe #i like my ocs so much man. so much #i need to post about them more #my art

[havenoffandoms]

can u do "“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”" with geralt x fem!reader? tysm!

This one gave me some trouble... I’ll have to admit, so I had to think of how the hell to incorporate that into a prompt (no, I didn’t think this through when I compiled my prompt list. I’m a mess). Anyway, this ended up being a modern AU, so I hope you don’t mind, nonnie.  Warnings: Modern AU! Otherwise, I don’t think there’s anything I need to flag up. This is mostly crack written from Geralt’s POV. 

Prompt: 42. “Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”

Tumblr Request Masterlist

You've always been a sleeptalker. It's something your boyfriend Geralt has come to expect. Most of the time, you just babble incoherently, occasionally throwing in a word that Geralt recognises, but for the most part he has to contend with the (frankly adorable) noises you produce. When you and him first started dating, he used to stay up and watch you sleep for a while, smirking softly at the grunts, whines and sleepy sighs that tumbled past your lips. Over the years you’ve been together, your sleeptalking habit is still one of his favourite quirks about you, but admittedly not when he has to get up early the next morning to go to work. 

Right now, he has two minds to sleep on the couch to finally get some peace from your incessant blabbering. 

“NO,” you suddenly shout out, and Geralt will forever deny the inhuman sound your sudden exclamation pulls out of him, something halfway between a squeal and a yowl, “no, you can’ take the kitty with you… ‘s my kitty.”

Geralt heaves a deep-rooted sigh as he grabs the pillow from under his head and presses it over his face instead. Just one night, one bloody night, where he doesn’t have to suffer this ordeal… he asks for so little, and yet, his prayers are never answered. Now, he can live with the noises, the talking, the occasional snoring, but one thing he still struggles to get used to is the kicking. Right on cue, as if the universe decided to punish him for all his past mistakes in this very moment, your arm lands rather unceremoniously on his crotch, causing Geralt to sit up and groan at the sudden pain he feels around the very sensitive area. 

Geralt hisses a string of curses under his breath, but when his eyes land on you, all he sees is you sleeping peacefully on your side of the bed. He really should be grateful for the small blessings life gives him. At least, you’re not stealing all the covers and hogging his side of the bed… yet. Guaranteed, by the end of the night you’ll have nearly pushed Geralt off the bed. It’s happened before, back in the early stages of your relationship when Geralt would have done anything to please you, even if it meant pretending that the bruise he sustained from being kicked out of bed didn’t hurt like a bitch every time he sat down. 

“Give me that kitty back… y’hear me? … ‘s my kitty.” 

Geralt grouses under his breath before dropping back onto the mattress and turning his back to you. No, he is not huffing, Geralt Rivia does not huff, thank you very much. Just as Geralt closes his eyes to try and go back to sleep, he feels you press up against his back and hooking your chin over his shoulder. You let out a deep content sigh, but don’t wake up. Geralt can’t bite back the small smile tugging at his lips. You truly are cute when you’re all sleepy and cuddly. 

Well, that is, until you start laughing like some kind of crazy woman while whispering creepy shit in his ear. “Why do you need chloroform at 2am, you ask? Because I have a plan.”

Yeah, that’s it. That’s where Geralt draws the line, when you start to get murderous tendencies in your sleep. He rises to a seated position and gently shakes you awake, while at the same time trying to ignore the way his blood turned cold at your alarming words. You frown when you’re jostled out of your sleep, and when your eyes flutter open, Geralt almost sighs in relief when he sees the familiar colour of your eyes instead of the demonic red he was expecting. 

“G’r’lt? Why d’you wake me up?” you mumble grumpily, your words followed by a yawn. 

“You’re being creepy,” is all the explanation Geralt gives you, “and it sounded like you wanted to murder me in my sleep.” 

“Don’ be s’dramatic.” You let out an annoyed huff as you settle into his side, sinking deeper into the comfortable mattress. Unable to resist your cuddly assault, Geralt lies down next to you and pulls you closer before placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Goodnight, dove.”

“G’night, my next victim,” you whisper to him, punctuating your words with a witchy laugh. Geralt pinches your side in retaliation. 

“Not funny.”

You’re lucky he loves you!

#geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #havenwrites #request #modern AU

[infernal-panda]

ALTERNATE BEGINNING CHAPTER 16: REAL CHAPTER POSTED NOW

The next morning, not long after the sun started to rise, Natasha stepped on to the roof with two cups of coffee in hand, still wearing Tony's night shirt and sleep pants. Her hair fell in soft, slightly fuzzed waves over her shoulders, showing just how quickly she'd gone from the comfort of her bed to the kitchen, but there was a pep in her step unusual for the early morning hour.

The day seemed to match her mood, beautiful and bright despite the grey clouds looming overhead, and there was still a pleasant chill in the air. She looked around, unsure exactly where her little delinquent had fallen asleep then spotted the blankets in the shadows of the air unit.

The crunching of gravel beneath her shoes slowed as she got close, her eyes narrowing. There was not one, but two pairs of feet peeking from the blankets, and the small palette closest to the unit was abandoned. She was confused only for a moment before a bleary-eyed Steve's head lifted from the pillow.

Steve seemed confused as well, trying to figure out why the hell he was outside and what was pinning him down. The two met eyes and Steve looked down to where Peter was still snoring softly, mouth agape and sprawled out over him. So that answered that. Steve's face drained of color at his still-bare chest.

Natasha raised a brow. This was certainly a new development.

"I was just-" Steve started, but the sound caused Peter to shift, his brows furrowing.

Steve carefully worked to peel back the blankets, but apparently Peter was having none of it, his immediate response to nuzzle in closer into the warmth, burying his head against Steve's arm. Steve let out a quietly amused huff, his heart swelling in spite of himself, and after some very delicate maneuvering, he finally managed to wriggle himself free of his comfy prison.

Peter smacked his lips as he clutched onto the pillow Steve recruited to stand in his stead, and Natasha had to actively work to keep her stony expression, her cheek up-ticking with the effort.

Steve worked on pulling his shirt on as he stepped away carefully, rubbing his hand through his hair, trying to smother the troublesome strays. Natasha held out one of the cups.

"Get cold?"

It sounded like an innocent question, but even in her stoicism, the wryness in her voice gave her teasing away. It was obvious from her reaction that she thought their sleeping arrangement happened by accident, or perhaps not by accident, but definitely not with the intentions they had laid by each other with. He could have played it off, acted like it was something less than what it was, but there was no point in holding off.

Steve hesitantly searched Natasha's face, hoping she didn't notice the trifle of a blush rising up his neck, and squared his jaw mulishly. "Not exactly, no."

Natasha stared at him, waiting for Steve to explain further. He just took a long drink. "Is that so?"

Steve gave a single, trying-for-casual nod, but it just barely missed the mark.

Natasha found herself intrigued. Her eyes flashed back to where Peter was laying, his hair a wild mess. At first, she thought it was funny in a cute kind of way, but if their cuddling was purposeful, that was something different altogether. Not that she didn't expect this to happen eventually, but with the two actively acting like the most adorable dunderheads she'd ever met, she didn't expect it to be so soon.

Then something occurred to her.

She narrowed her eyes at Steve. "He wasn't drunk was he?"

Steve's nose scrunched up in disgust, there and gone. Of course not. He never would have let any of that happen if he was. Steve may have done some dumb stuff in the past, but he would never take advantage of Peter like that. "Completely sober. We were up for a bit before-before we talked."

"Good. I'd hate to have to string you from the side of the tower after I've grown so attached to you," she said easily.

"If he would've been, I'd have done it myself," Steve replied thinly.

Natasha hummed. "So you made up your mind then? About what Tony talked with you about."

Steve nodded again.

Natasha's glare lingered for a long moment then her lips slowly slid into a smug smile. She slapped a small hand on his shoulder, knocking him off balance, and took a drink from what was supposed to be Peter's coffee. "Alright then. Too bad for Kristen in Statistics."

Steve gaped incredulously as Natasha turned on her heel and walked back to the door, calling over her shoulder, "Tell Peter he's expected to be at lunch. You and the others too, but I'll let them know. I'm sure you two have a bit of talking to do."

Steve let his head fall back as the door shut and released a breath, feeling like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. That went so much better than he ever imagined.

He walked back over to Peter, settling back under the covers. He reached for his bag and pulled out his laptop, going through his unread emails to pass the time, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from Peter's face for too long. He found himself straying from his work back to Peter's sun kissed profile, eyes glancing again and again at the long beautiful lashes casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones, highlighting the feather-light freckles peppering his skin. His fingers itched for his sketch pad after the third time, and finally grabbed it at the fifth from where it lay abandoned on his own small palette.

Peter was an awkward sleeper, all gangly limbs and soft snores, but it didn't really bother Steve. Honestly, it only made him seem more adorable, like a quirky little puppy or maybe a strangely cuddly octopus, stretching out and falling asleep in any position possible. He wondered if he always slept like that, or if it was only when he was exhausted. They'd stayed up most of the night, just talking like they always had. It was comforting in a way, that things hadn't changed too drastically.

That thought grew, branching out into thoughts of the future as he drew. He wondered what his and Peter's relationship would look like. Would they be more like Bruce and Loki, or Natasha and Tony? How often he would get to wake up beside him? He wondered if any day could ever possibly measure up to the feelings coursing through him today, despite having thought that numerous times since having met Peter.

There would be issues, he was sure, not only with the complicated feelings between him and Bucky, but with the others too. He wasn't certain how everyone was going to take the news of them going together-or whatever it was they were doing-, and he still had his own fears to conquer, but he wouldn't let it get to him. He couldn't do that to Peter again.

Steve noticed the heaviness of his lines and shook his hand free of the thoughts. They would have plenty of time to worry about all of that. For now...

Steve's hand hung limply from his knee, and he thought, just for a moment, that he could watch It Peter sleep forever.

That is until he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. It was nonsense, hardly even words at all through his sleep slurred speech, but there was something so sweet and innocent about it Steve couldn't hold back and longer, and he dropped his notebook to wrap his arms around Peter, pressing a soft kiss on his neck by his ear.

"Good morning," he crooned against his skin.

Peter blinked slowly at the familiar strong and steady timbre vibrating against his ear, eyes glassy and bloodshot, but his face lit up with a surge of pure exaltation when Steve came into focus. Peter was fully ready to accept the night before as a fluke, a poor lapse in judgement on Steve's part, but with the way those blue eyes were looking at him, it seemed to be anything but.

"Hey," he replied, his smile warm and sleepy-soft as he stretched against Steve. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long. Maybe half an hour."

"Ah man. You could've woken me up. I bet I was snoring all over you," Peter said.

"You were," Steve assured him, passing him his notebook. "You even sleep talked. It was adorable."

Peter barked out a laugh. "Did you just Edward Cullen me?"

Steve huffed, smiling at his strange reaction. "I don't know what that means, but I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, maybe we will skip that one. The books aren't bad, but the acting for the movie is horrendous. Almost hilarious really, but it's kind of embarrassing to watch, you know? Unless you're into that kind of thing. It's MJ's guilty pleasure, even if she denies it to everyone else. Uhm, anyway," Peter forced himself to stop rambling. "How'd you sleep?"

Steve propped himself up on his elbow. Amazing. Fantastic even. No tossing and turning, no staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. It was the best he'd slept in probably years.

"Great. What about you? Miss your bed?" Steve asked with a lopsided smile.

"Nope. I actually slept like a rock."

"I saw that," Steve mused, running a hand down Peter's arm. "You missed Nat bringing you coffee and everything."

Peter perked, awed. "Coffee?"

Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes. He should have known that's all Peter would hear. The kid got excited about a lot of things, but coffee and science were two things guaranteed to get a smile. Steve sat up and plucked his own coffee cup off the ground and handed it over. Peter took it eagerly but he tilted his head slightly as he pulled the cup away.

It was sweet, but not overly so. Just the right amount of sugar, vanilla creamer and bitterness, so unlike his usual almost chalk white coffee.

"Is this yours?"

Steve nodded.

"Wow," Peter said, taking another drink. "This is amazing."

Steve took the cup, then dropped his head down to kiss Peter slowly, sealing their lips together softly before allowing his tongue to dip into his mouth, dragging across his bottom lip. Steve relished in the sweetness, and the slight intake of Peter's breath, then pulled away and licked his own lips. Peter's gaze was transfixed on the movement, his heart doing a painful little dance in his chest. Holy hell.

"Yeah. Tastes great," Steve agreed, eyes mirthful.

Peter blinked and swallowed loudly, his face warming. This time yesterday he thought he'd seen every side of Steve. The dorky, the confident, the good and the bad, everything, but man was he wrong. Sexy Steve was going to take some getting used to.

Not that he minded. Peter wanted more. Craved it. He could still feel the ghost of Steve's warm hands all over his body, the gentle rock of his hips, hear the sound of his labored breathing...

"Do you have any plans for today?"

"What?" Peter's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Oh. Me? Uhm. No. Nothing-Why?"

"Great," Steve said with a lopsided grin. He pulled out his phone to check the time, then tucked it back into his pocket. "That means we have plenty of time get in some training."

"Wait-what?"

"Training," Steve repeated, then raised a brow. "When's the last time you worked out?"

"Uhm, well. I-I guess it has been a few days," Peter said sheepishly. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't really remember. Everyone had been so busy lately, and Clint had caught him before he could go alone the other night.

"And you were making so much progress," Steve tsked. "How are you ever going to beat me if you keep slackin', Queens?"

"I was counting on your joints giving out or something, honestly, but I'm sure I'll manage."

Steve barked out a laugh. "Keep dreaming, kid. Seriously though. I'd feel a lot better if we got you back into regular training with everything going on."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Is it bad that I almost wish Hydra would just make a move already?" Peter asked, leaning back against his pillow.

"I'm glad they haven't. When they finally do, it'll only be because they're ready for it, and there's no telling how much damage they'll cause."

"As much as they can, I'm sure. Thieves and muggers, sometimes they are just on the wrong path, you know, but legit bad guys, they're are all the same."

"Like Death Eaters," Steve offered, absentmindedly running calloused fingers down Peter's arm. "Except they use science instead of magic."

Peter snorted.

"What was that noise about?" Steve asked. "I can't make film references?"

"No, it's awesome. I just can't wait until you are a full blown nerd."

"What does that come with? A medal? A spot in the hall of fame?"

"As if you don't already have one," Peter rolled his eyes playfully. "You're literally the world's first Avenger."

"Touché."

"Did I tell you I went to your exhibit? It was the Howling Commando one they had at the Science and History museum a few years ago, before all the Spiderman stuff. It was pretty awesome."

"Really? Did you learn anything?"

Peter shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing I didn't already know. You know how I am. When I like something, I research everything I can."

Steve tussled his hair, smirking. "I forget. You were a 'big fan.' Not the best thing to announce before a fight, just for future reference."

"That's what Tony said," Peter muttered, flattening his hair back down.

What would past Peter think if he could see him now? He probably wouldn't have believed it. Hell, two weeks ago he wouldn't have believed it.

"Speaking of being a big fan, though, I already have our next movie night planned. Ned has been bugging me to make you watch Lord of the Rings, so I was thinking maybe we could watch them tonight, or at least one of them. They're kind of long."

Steve considered it a moment, going over his plans for the day in his head. "I have a some things to do today, but tonight should be fine."

"Oh. Avenger stuff?"

"Yeah. Tony needs my help installing some new equipment," Steve answered vaguely.

It must be the cloaking device, Peter thought. If he was almost finished, it made sense that Tony would already be done. Peter should probably work on that some time today. He didn't like leaving Goggles decommissioned for so long. The testing should be done on the power pack, so all he would need to do is make sure that the device was functioning well on its own then he should be able to connect it to Goggles' processor and-

"We should probably head down if we are going to eat," Steve said, interrupting his thoughts. He stood up, offering Peter hand. "Buck is not a morning person, and he will probably maim us both if he wakes up early just to wait on us."

"Beaten by Bucky Barnes. It's got a nice ring to it. Write that on my tombstone."

#WTSSL #tony stark #clint barton #iron dad #iron man #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #peter parker #spidermom #spidershield #steve rogers #peter parker x steve rogers #steve rogers x peter parker #slow burn #Hydra

[bluesprng]

「♱」 soulmates ³ ♡ skz.

request ↴ Part three of ‘Soulmates’ | First - Second writer ↴ jellie a/n ↴ honestly, all I have to say is I’m sorry, I really hate myself. | trigger warnings include mentions of ( undetailed. )sexual abuse and character death. I swear this story has a happy ending. This chapter is literally shit. Not proof read so kiss my ass if it’s not perfect (’:

new york city, three months after felix left.

‘Dude, come onnnn.. I want cheetos.’ Jisung’s whiny voice filled the air as he attempted to tug Felix into a tiny, 24-hour convenience store.

He refused, scrunching his nose up. ‘Just go get your cheetos, Sung, I’ll be right here.’ A chuckle followed his words and he watched his new friend sulk as he trotted in by himself.

Leaning against the cool brick wall, the strawberry haired boy closed his eyes, relaxing his muscles while waiting for the latter. He barely wanted to move with how bad his feet were aching.

What he wasn’t counting on, however, was the sound of a incoherent mumble and a hand over his mouth, dragging him into the alley beside the shop. Needless to say, Felix never made it back to the dorm and Jisung was left to make the phone call to his friends while the police contacted his family.

present day, two months later.

‘Why do you have such a problem with me!?’

The apartment had been empty of Chris and Jeongin, leaving you alone with Minho while you were slowly packing away to remainder of Felix’s belongings. The older had made a snarky comment, causing you to finally break.

The male stood silently for a moment before turning to look at you, eyes glazed with what looked like heartbreak; like he’d just watched the love of his life disappear. ‘I didn’t like you when we first met because of how easily you became part of this little circle.. I hated how easily everyone loved you- hated how easily I found myself wanting you.’

The beginning of his explanation left you speechless, staring at him with surprised eyes.

‘But now..? You’re so much like him! You remind me of him every single time I see you and I can’t stand it.’

You faltered at the words and slowly got to your feet. ‘But.. I’m not him Minho.. I’m not Felix.’

Tears slipped down the latter’s cheeks despite his desperate attempts to hold them back. Your body began moving hesitantly, afraid of his reaction, to reach out and pull him into your arms. ‘I.. I only know Felix for a little over a year but he was amazing; he was the sweetest, brightest person I’d ever met. He helped me with... with the Hyunjin situation, he helped me feel comfortable. We’ll remember him- he’ll never, ever be forgotten or replaced. But, you can’t take your pain of losing him out on me forever.’

You hadn’t acknowledged his earlier reasoning, finding this far more important.

He was quiet for a few moments as if letting the words sink in before hie arms snaked around you, burying his face into your shoulder. ‘Felix loved you s-so much, so quickly. He saw in you what he once saw in Hyunjin- we all did. We all looked for him in you and we found it; we clung to it but we all fell in love with you; friendly or otherwise. I can’t.. I can’t help but think of him when I see you.’

‘I’m sorry..’ you whispered, ‘I wish it would have been me. He didn’t deserve this.. he didn’t deserve any of this.’

‘He shouldn’t have been out so late.. He shouldn’t have been killed, but it seems everyone I - everyone we loved is dropping like flies..’ He squeezed you in his arms, ‘Who will be next..? Jeongin..? Chris.. you..? I can’t lose more people, Y/n.’

‘We aren’t going anywhere, okay..?’ You tried to show a reassuring smile, pulling away to look at him. He had swollen eyes and rosy cheeks, frowning down at you. What you didn’t expect was for him to bring his hands up to your cheeks and press a kiss against your lips.

You were stunned, unable to really respond.

‘What the fuck?’

Minho pulled away and looked past you at the intruder, quickly stepping back. ‘Jeongin-’

‘What the hell is going on right now?’ The youngest hissed out and the sound of the front door slamming behind him filled the room. You turned around, looking at him with teary eyes.

‘I-I.. we were talking about.. about Felix and he-’ You were cut off. ‘I kissed them. Don’t worry.. your precious Y/n didn’t do anything. It was all me.’

Neither of you had the time to speak before Minho was grabbing his bag and leaving the apartment, leaving you to slump slightly. ‘I don’t know what just happened.. he.. he explained why he hated me, then we were talking about Felix and him losing more people and then..’ You trailed off, tears sliding down your cheek.

Jeongin furrowed his brow, still very clearly pissed over the situation. Slowly, he made his way over to you, winding his arms around you. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Beyond feeling like my entire life is falling apart?’ you questioned with a weak chuckle, pressing your face into his shoulder, ‘I’m fine, I’m just.. confused?’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

You debated it and shook your head. ‘Can we go out..? Maybe for food or something..?’

The evening went well and you were thankful that your mind was cleared of all of the recent negativity. The trip back to the apartment was filled with stupid jokes and stolen kisses, your hand nestled in Jeongin’s back pocket- much to his embarrassment.

You pressed kisses against the side of his face as he opened the door, playfully attempting to push you off. ‘Come onnnn, gimme kisssiiiieeessss,’ you whined.

‘Uh, guys-’ it was Chris who spoke up, causing you both to jump, looking towards the living room coach like a couple of deer caught in headlights.

The oldest blonde sat with Jisung, Minho, and an unfamiliar raven haired male. Jisung looked like he was about to share some horrible news and it was only furthered as concerning with the look Chris held.

Detaching from your boyfriend, you frowned. ‘What’s going on..?’

Standing from the couch, the youngest of the three, chewed on his lower lip, puffing up his already puffy cheeks. ‘Well.. Y/n, this is Changbin,’ he began, gesturing to the latter, ‘I met him around when I started college in New York. Weird part, uh.. about a week ago, I got to see his soulmate mark.’

Everyone turned their attention to the raven who stood and lifted the side of his shirt, showing off the mark that adorned his upper ribs. It matched your own.

It was also the last thing you saw before everything went black.

-

‘So what you’re saying is.. they were all three..?’ The familiar voice of Jeongin broke through your sleepy state, sounding rather heartbroken. ‘Does this mean..?’

‘Of course- Of course this would happen.’

‘Minho, shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you want anymore- your soulmate is standing right next to you and you’re just too stupid to see him. Why? Because you always want someone you can’t have,’ the youngest hissed.

You could hear the sound of movement and a groan before Chris intervened. ‘Hey- Hey! Are you two seriously going to do this right now? Calm down. Jeongin, that was uncalled for.. and Minho, he’s got a point and you don’t even have a say on the topic. You owe him an apology.’

‘..Sorry.’ You could practically hear Minho rolling his eyes, followed by the sound of steps and the door shutting; running away from issues seemed to be his best skill.

‘Son of a... Anyway, are you okay, Jeongin..?’

‘Just a busted lip. What are we supposed to do..?’

‘Can I say something?’ The voice was unfamiliar, so you assumed it belonged to the male referred to as Changbin; they must have gestured him to continue. ‘I.. know I was kinda brought here out of the blue and I’m sorry for that. I can just go back home, if it makes everything better?’

There was a silence before a sigh could be heard. ‘You don’t need to go home. You’re.. you’re their soulmate- you have every right to stay, get to know them,’ your boyfriend spoke softly, ‘With.. Hyunjin gone, it’ll be nice for them and you, you’re a lucky guy.’ With that, more footsteps were heard and the door was closing again.

You finally sat up, catching Jisung’s attention first. ‘Guys..’ he mumbled, gesturing to you. Your eyes were glossy with tears, heart torn between what to do. You loved Jeongin, but what could you do knowing you had another soulmate?

Bringing your hands up to palm your eyes, you listened to the oldest ask the two to leave before a weight landed beside you. Arms slipping around your shoulders, you felt what you assumed to be Chris nuzzling into your hair. ‘Calm down, it’s going to be alright.’

‘How..? How is this going to be alright? First Hyunjin.. I love Jeongin, I do, but.. what am I supposed to do?’

Rubbing your arms, he let out a deep sigh. ‘I.. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you. I do know that Jeongin just wants you to be happy.. You also don’t know Changbin, you may not even get along.’

Sinking further against him, you felt him shift and lean back, pulling you along. ‘Don’t think about it too much right now, okay? Get some more rest and we can deal with it later,’ he advised, fingers moving to slide through your hair, lulling you back to sleep.

‘Alright, let’s just.. handle this as civilly as possible, okay?’ Chris announced, leading you into the room to sit at the table. In attendance, Jisung, Minho, Chris, Changbin, and Jeongin sat around the table, all with different emotions carved into their features.

You took a seat beside the older, finding comfort in his calming air, though kept your head lowered and played with your fingers. ‘I know some people are going to walk away hurt and I’m sorry but, I don’t know what else to do.’

‘Y/n-’

‘Let them talk, Jeongin.’

‘I.. I’d like to take some time to get to know Changbin, if that’s okay with him, and to see what happens. I didn’t get the chance to know Hyunjin,’ you began, taking a small breath and looking up, ‘so I’d like to get to know the person marked as my soulmate. Jeongin.. I..’

Trailing off, you could feel tears stinging your waterline. The mentioned male shifted in his spot to get up, coming over to press a kiss against your temple; ‘Don’t cry.. don’t apologize.. I understand. You were made for each other after all,’ his laugh was a bit bitter, ‘I just want you to do what’s best for you. If you end up leaving with him and if you don’t- I’m always just going to want what’s best for you.’

His words eased the feeling of nausea bubbling up in your gut but that didn’t mean you felt too much better.

‘I’m.. I’ve got to head to work,’ he added, bidding a quiet farewell before heading out.

As he left, you sighed and put on a small yet broken smile, moving to sit closer to the raven, much to Minho’s distaste.

‘So.. Changbin.. It’s nice to meet you.’

#jellie #tw #triggers #stray kids #skz #lee minho #lee felix #bang chan #yang jeongin #seo changbin #han jisung #minho scenarios #felix scenarios #bang chan scenarios #jeongin scenarios #changbin scenarios #jisung scenarios #im sorry #kpop #kpop scenarios

[savinscripts]

CHAPTER 9:

❝ The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you ❞

Later on, in the night, something woke Faye up. She blinked, leaning up on one elbow to brush her hair from her face as she rubbed at her eyes. Fane was sound asleep right where he’d been when she’d fallen asleep herself. Completely out, breathing softly. The fire was nearly gone, so Faye got up, frowning a bit at what could have woken her, and moved to add another few logs. Maybe it was the encroaching cold. When she turned back, her eyes moved to movement from the bed. Her frown deepened.

Carrington was thrashing beneath the covers, arms and legs moving erratically. At first Faye thought - at it alarmed him so much that she nearly woke Fane - that he might be having a seizure. But he grew quite suddenly still, and then it started back up. He murmured to himself, tiny sounds and whimpers of what sounded very much like distress. Then Faye realize it wasn’t a seizure. He was having a nightmare.

There was no hesitation as Faye climbed into the bed beside him. Not wanting to frighten him more and make him reinjure himself - she wasn’t worried about her own safety - Faye gently caught hold of Carrington’s arm. Then the other. He jerked away, or tried to, but it wasn’t enough to get Faye to release him. “Hey… hey, it’s alright. It’s alright. Wake up, hmm?” she murmured, letting go of one arm to press a hand to his cheek. “Cari… honey, open your eyes. It’s Faye… it’s Faye. You’re safe, okay? You’re home with us. With me an’ Fane…”

He slowly started to settle, longs limbs slowing their uneasy movements beneath the covers. His eyes fluttered, and Faye could see them open even in the dim light. The glimmer of blue beneath heavy eyelids was nearly black in the dim light. It took him a moment to find her face, disoriented and heavily medicated as he was. But once he did, his eyes locked onto her and didn’t waver. Perhaps he was still half-asleep. Or perhaps it was the drugs. Who could say? But he saw her, and even though his heart beat like a hummingbird in his chest, and his breathing was faster than it should be, he visibly sagged back into his pillows.

“There you are,” Faye said quietly, smiling softly at him. She pet his hair, doing it without thinking, and watched as his eyes fluttered closed again. But they slid open after a moment, and the way he gazed at her made Faye’s cheeks flush. It was the drugs, she told herself. He’s high as a kite on painkillers. But he kept looking at her, until finally Faye had to drop her eyes.

“Don’t.” It was one word, uttered softly.

Faye looked back up. He was still gazing at her. “Don’t what?” she asked just as softly, letting her fingers move through his hair again.

“Don’t go.” His eyes fluttered shut. “Stay.” His good arm moved around her, circling her waist lazily as sleep pulled him back down again. He shifted towards her, towards her warmth, and was out before she could protest.

“Stay,” Faye repeated, watching him for a bit before she pulled the covers up around them. She secured his injured hand as best she could and let her arm fall over him. Before long, they were both breathing quietly, and Carrington’s nightmares didn’t return.

On any other night Fane would have been awake at the sound of a pin drop, but everything so far had culminated in him being practically comatose where he lay face half-buried in the pillow his breathing shallowly coming in through his nose and out through his mouth. He slept through Faye moving from the mattress, Carrington’s disturbance nearby though had it continued it would have likely woken him eventually.

Faye moving over settled Carrington as he stared at her under heavy eyelids. His eyes dark and unfocussed in the low light of the room, but enough that he seemed to recognise her presence. Or perhaps it was the smell of her, warm and familiar nearby. Lavender he’d always thought, and being this close to her he knew that it was. Lavender and something… something he couldn’t place, but as his arm settled over her and he shifted close to the warmth of her body he half-turned his face into her breathing quietly even if it was still a little fast. The petting of his hair settled him, as though his body registered it as an affectionate and calming act that caused him to slowly sink back down beside her as the tension seeped out of him.

He was asleep in next to no time, dreaming of himself and the others wandering through vast seemingly endless fields of lavender. A few hours later though he stirred once more, his mouth buried partially against her muffling his sleep-laden heavily medicated words into a mumble head lolling heavily against her. “M’I dead?”

Faye didn’t move again either, not until several hours later when Carrington stirred. She stretched a bit, toes brushing his shins as she roused herself enough to comprehend what he’d said. “Mmm, no. Don’t think so.” Faye didn’t open her eyes, entirely too warm and comfortable to move too much.

“Mm,” was Carrington’s return answer. A small, sleepy grunt. “‘S good.” He turned his head a bit, finding a new position that tucked him a bit more snugly under her chin. His fingers moved idly over her back.

Faye hummed at the gentle touch, still mostly asleep, but awake enough to be aware of her surroundings. To be aware of him against her. It felt good, and her own arms pulled him closer. To which he let out a sigh of contentment.

“Wher’sfane?” he mumbled a moment later, the words slurring together into one.

“Floor,” Faye said.

“Mmm. Bast’rd. Should come here. S’warm.” As if to emphasize his point, Carrington burrowed himself even deeper against Faye.

“He’s fine. Has a mattress. Let ‘im sleep.”

Carrington grunted again, and took Faye’s advice for himself. Faye did too, and a couple of hours later, they both woke again. Faye before Carrington and Fane. The first rays of morning light were peeking through the curtains, and the fire had gone out recently. It smoldered gently. Faye didn’t want to move, she was too warm and too cozy underneath the blankets. Especially with Carrington’s warm, solid weight against her. She lay there for a bit, fingers carding gently through his overlong hair, and watched the light grow brighter. When there was enough to see by, she reached for the little book on Carrington’s sidetable, curious as to what it was. He was always reading it.

It was poetry, Faye saw, and found herself reading quietly while she waited on the others to wake up.

Carrington slept soundly, buried against Faye his dreams sliding from thing to thing but never quite settling on anything in particular. All he knew was that in each he felt safe, secure even. As though whatever happened he would be okay, protected even. He didn’t know why, all he did know was that he rather liked it. During the night he shifted closer to the warmth nearby, the fire he supposed, not remembering much of anything that had happened during the night or the last time he woke.

He slowly came to, toes curling and fingers flexing against her spine where they were pressed. Slow and very drawn out movements that he was only really half-aware he was even making. The drugs were still in his system, Carrington nosed closer to that warmth mumbling something utterly incoherent where his mouth was still pressed into Faye’s midsection against which he’d buried himself last night. He was so warm, warmer than he could remember ever being and the slow stroke of fingers against his head caused him to hum happily.

He dozed like that for a while, who knows how long before his eyes fluttered open lazily not that Faye seemed to notice. His vision swam, and he closed his eyes for a few more minutes opening them once more and staring intently at the book she seemed to be holding not quite able to make it out at first. His mind slower than it typically was. Until he realised, that was his book, holding her just a fraction tighter he smiled just a little against her. “Read t’me?”

There was a beat of silence, Carrington not moving from where he was tucked up snugly against her “please?”

The only thing Faye remembered from her own dreams that night was the feeling of safety. Much like Carrington, she felt a sense of belonging. A sense of being wanted and needed, and being able to feel that way in return. There was warmth and laughter. Happiness and a sense of freedom that Faye had never felt before, even in all her wanderings. She held onto that feeling when she woke early the next morning, and let herself just be. Let herself just lie there with Carrington and be content for a while.

Her fingers carded with absent purpose through his hair, and she smiled to herself as she read from his book. It was lovely. Faye had never read too much poetry, but she knew the classics. When he moved closer, she let him, pausing her petting until he settled again. And when his voice came a bit later, soft and sombre, and he pulled her closer, Faye found she couldn’t say no.

“Which one?” she asked quietly, a smile in her voice. “Or should I pick?”

The slow stroke and drag of her fingers through his hair had his eyes drifting closed again. Almost certain that if given the chance he would stay like this forever. Feeling warm and safe and secure pressed up against her. He shifted just a little, moving close until he settled with his head pillowed on her. “Any,” his voice came softly and slightly slurred “jus’ read hm?” He drew in and exhaled a long breath his fingers seeking out the warmth of skin at her back and when he found it he hugged her tight, fingers pressed just beneath the rise of the old tee she had changed into.

Meanwhile on the floor, Fane stirred a little at the voices from nearby early morning light filtered through the curtains and he squinted a little bit at it turning his face into the pillow with a grimace. He noticed how cold the bed had gotten and pulled the sheets up higher, tucking his knees up a fraction more he settled once more in this new position before he started dozing once more in that same position there. Oblivious to the quiet couple in the bed nearby and fact that he’d all but been abandoned on the floor where he was. Though it would be something he’d notice later on when he woke properly.

“Alright.” Faye reached up to flip through the little book, making a contented, sleepy noise as Carrington burrowed against her. The book - or its contents rather - had been a surprise. She never figured him for the poetry type. Though it made sense in its own way. She stopped on a random page, blushing a bit as the title of the poem reached her eyes. Never a fan of hearing her own voice, her accent not made for speeches or reading aloud, Faye cleared her throat.

“‘ Once again, someone falls in their first falling–fall of two bodies, of two eyes, of four green eyes or eight green eyes if we count those born in the mirror (at midnight, in the purest fear, in the loss), you haven’t been able to recognize the voice of your dull silence, to see the earthly messages scrawled in the middle of one mad state, when the body is a glass and from ourselves and from the other we drink some kind of impossible water.

Desire needlessly spills on me a cursed liqueur. For my thirsty thirst, what can the promise of eyes do? I speak of something not in this world. I speak of someone whose purpose is elsewhere. And I was naked in memory of the white night. Drunk and I made love all night, just like a sick dog. Sometimes we suffer too much reality in the space of a single night. We get undressed, we’re horrified. We’re aware the mirror sounds like a watch, the mirror from which your cry will pour out, your laceration.

Night opens itself only once. It’s enough. You see. You’ve seen. Fear of being two in the mirror, and suddenly we’re four. We cry, we moan, my fear, my joy more horrible than my fear, my visceral words, my words are keys that lock me into a mirror, with you, but ever alone. And I am well aware what night is made of. We’ve fallen so completely into jaws that didn’t expect this sacrifice, this condemnation of my eyes which have seen. I speak of a discovery: felt the I in sex, sex in the I. I speak of burying everyday fear to secure the fear of an instant. The purest loss. But who’ll say: you don’t cry anymore at night? Because madness is also a lie. Like night. Like death. ’”

Faye finished, unaware of Fane’s half-awareness from beneath his own covers, and looked down at Carrington where her fingers brushed the line of his arm now. “Still awake?” she asked quietly.

He was dozing as Faye began to read, not quite asleep but neither awake enough to want to move or realise what was happening to any other point than it felt good right now. A small smile was gracing his features where he lay, softly continuing to brush her back with his fingers in slow lazy and rather random patterns. When she finished and her own hand stroked down his arm he made a quiet noise of contentment looking up at her his eyes cracking open a fraction to look up at her from where he had rested entirely buried against her until now.

Fane had begun to stir at the sound of voices, uncertain what they were discussing though and unsure if he was entirely welcome to the conversation he stayed where he was. Keeping his eyes closed he let himself lounge, though he peaked up at the bed with a slight open of one eye. Noticing how Faye and Carrington were wrapped up around one another, did it mean anything? He didn’t quite know, nor did he know when Faye had moved during the night.

“Like your voice, s’nice” Carrington’s words were drawled lazily as he touched her skin. “Read me ‘nother? Please?”

Sometimes there were moments that didn’t need to be filled with words. Or with idle small talk. Moments that didn’t need explanation or reasons why. Sometimes moments just happened. This appeared to be one of them. Quiet contentment in the early hours of a new day.

Faye met Carrington’s eyes as he looked up once she’d finished. She let her fingers brush his hair again, and smiled softly. She wanted to say so many things. Ask how he was. Tell him she was sorry. Tell him reasons why she’d acted like she had. But she couldn’t bring herself to break the subtle magic of the moment. Carrington looked back at her, still muzzy headed from the night before, but aware enough to return the caress.

Faye hummed at the soft touch along her back, and her eyes closed briefly. Neither noticed Fane’s peeking up at them. It would hardly have mattered if they had. He could have joined them, and neither would have had the heart to protest. Not that they would have wanted to. Faye laughed softly as Carrington said he liked her voice. But still she didn’t protest.

She flipped the page, and read another: “‘ I find no peace, and all my war is done. I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice. I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise; And nought I have, and all the world I season. That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison And holdeth me not—yet can I scape no wise— Nor letteth me live nor die at my device, And yet of death it giveth me occasion. Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain. I desire to perish, and yet I ask health. I love another, and thus I hate myself. I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain; Likewise displeaseth me both life and death, And my delight is causer of this strife.’ ”

She read a few more as the sun rose higher and the room brightened. When it was nearing what had to be breakfast time, and Carrington had drifted into wakeful dozing instead of actual sleepiness, Faye finally closed the book. But she didn’t get up. “Would you like breakfast?” she asked, slowly rubbing her toes over his shin.

Fane truly wasn’t sure what to make of it all, nor the things that she was reading not having known that Carrington was a poetry fan it caught him by surprise. But he didn’t want to disrupt the quietness of the morning, and so, he made the conscious decision to stay where he was though he rolled a little onto his side. One arm propped under his pillow as he rested listening to the refrains of Faye’s voice coming softly from the bed after Carrington requested she continue reading to him. In the quietness of his space, his mind drifted onto dangerous things. He wondered what it would’ve been like to wake up to this on mornings.

The warmth of another’s body, the soft affections of someone caring enough to want to share that space with you. And he wanted it, so badly, that it sometimes felt like an acute ache in his soul. Because how was that supposed to work? When neither of the people he truly wanted it with could even manage it for themselves unless entirely dosed out of their mind on pain meds until they were high as a kite and barely registering entirely what they were doing. Fane didn’t know, but he let himself drift in imagining what it might’ve been like. He could dream, before the world would come back and he would have to set aside idle musings for the reality in which he lived. He would keep his fantasies to himself for now.

Hearing Faye finish up the reading of a few more pieces of literature, he supposed now might as well be a decent enough time to ‘wake up’ himself. Rolling onto his back, sheets tangling with the act as he yawned stretching out his back until it clicked satisfactorily. Opening his eyes he blinked, rubbing away the sleepiness and squinting against the light with a muffled noise of protest.

Carrington for his part merely nosed against Faye, “m’warm.”

“You talking ‘bout food? M’game for that” Fane asked, propping himself up on his elbow his hair a wild curly mess atop his head.

Faye knew Carrington was most likely able to speak and act as he did towards her because of the medication he’d been given. And part of her felt guilty for letting him. For staying here, curled around him like old lovers, reading to him from a book of poetry. It was… surreal. Though she justified it - barely - by telling herself that they weren’t doing anything they shouldn’t. Or that they weren’t ready for. Perhaps this was what they needed. A situation that would allow them to be close without all the tension involved. Though Faye would never want him to be hurt just to make things easier on her. On them.

She would talk to him, really talk to him, once he was truly awake and not stoned out of his mind. Because Faye had allowed herself to drift as well. In the small moments when she forgot why they were here. Not just because of Carrington’s hand - and her part in that - but because of the people that searched for them. And the task they’d all been neglecting because of personal differences.

Perhaps those could be put behind them now. Because this had made Faye realize that she didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to argue and quarrel all the time. Like she’d told Fane, she had never been wanted by anyone. Had never had any place that she considered a true home. And this old house, neglected though it was, was already starting to feel that way. As were the two men she’d come to know and care for over the last few months. They had been neglected too. By the world. By the people that were supposed to care for them. By Faye. But that could change. It could change, and it would change. Faye was determined.

She laughed quietly as he turned down food in favor of staying where he was. “You have to eat sometime. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it.”

Carrington gave his own sleepy laugh, his mouth warm as he nuzzled her midsection. His long fingers crawled beneath her shirt. “Mm… this…” he murmured, mouthing the planes of her stomach.

Faye huffed, but her laugh died a bit in favor of another sound. One that she didn’t realize she’d made until Fane’s head popped up over the side of the bed and she snatched herself back to reality. “Yes… yes, food,” she laughed in the way of someone who’d got caught enjoying something they knew they shouldn’t.

Carrington grumbled his discontent at been jostled from his place. His good hand patted around for a spare pillow. When he found one, he lobbed it in the direction of Fane’s voice. “Blocker…” he grinned, laughing at himself drunkenly as he turned his face back into Faye’s belly.

Faye blushed, looking at Fane with a ‘well, what was I supposed to do?’ look on her face. His hair was messy and floated around his head in a riot of curls. She idly thought he could use a trim. “I um… I should go get something started. Fane… do you wanna-?” ‘Take over here?’ was what the look said.

Considering the height difference between the mattress and the bed, Fane didn’t actually realise what he was interrupting until-- well, his brows inched higher at the sight of Carrington’s mouth pressed to Faye’s midriff. His eyes flickered between the two in bed, “well, someone’s feeling better he quipped” his tone was light and teasing mostly and Faye’s embarrassed laugh caused him to grin at her a look that was all teeth and clear amusement. He hardly minded, even if he’d wanted to be in that same position several weeks back “who knew you just had to be fatally injured to get her on her back.” Again, his grin betrayed the joke to his words as he sat up scrubbing his hand over his face and through his hair.

Fane was still rubbing his head when the pillow came sailing across and Fane didn’t have enough time to dodge it. He toppled sideways chuckling at the commentary from the far side of the bed not that he could see Carrington where he was presently buried against Faye’s body. The soldier’s fingers still played at the back of her shirt as his mouth moved lazily over the few inches of exposed skin he’d revealed.

Catching Faye’s eye and her blush only served to make Fane grin a little more slanted, “oh no, don’t let me interrupt.” He rolled over to the edge of the bed clambering up to his feet but not before tossing the pillow back at Carrington who grumbled at being hit with it. “I’ll go make food, seems like you’re tending to the invalid” he shot her a playful wink before darting out the door before he could be struck down by another pillow. However, a moment later his voice echoed down the hall followed by a burst of laughter “or you know, you can let the invalid tend to you!” They couldn’t see him, but Fane was wearing a shit-eating grin as he walked off towards the kitchen to make food.

Faye blushed even harder at Fane’s comment, her mouth falling open in mock offense. Though he wasn’t actually wrong. In a manner of speaking. It had taken Carrington’s injury to get the two of them where they were. No comment followed though. Instead, a bright peal of laughter echoed in the quiet room as Carrington tossed the pillow at Fane. God what Faye would give for this to be her life. The thought came so quickly that it took her breath. Though it might also have been the warm wetness of Carrington’s searching mouth finally finding skin. “Oh. Oh… I um… mmm…” She couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth. Not to tell Carrington that nope. Nope, this wasn’t a good idea. Or to tell Fane where he could promptly shove his own words.

Though the other man was gone before she could pull her brain back from the place where Carrington was so quickly pulling it down to. The words that were called back up the hall were met with a chuckle from Carrington, who sighed against Faye’s skin, and a widening of Faye’s eyes. Oh. Oh, nonononono. No.

“Should I?” Carrington murmured. His fingers squeezed pressed a bit more insistently against her back. “Tend t’you?” His tongue flicked over her bellybutton. “Could prob’ly use it…”

Faye’s eyes had fluttered shut as the slip of his tongue. Her belly quivered, and she made a small sound low in her throat. It would be so easy to just let him. So easy to just lie back and let things progress as they would. But no. No nononono. Not like this.

“We can’t…” Faye huffed, making herself open her eyes and blink. Hard. “We shouldn’t… I’m… it’s not… you’re high as a kite for one…” The protests were weak, she knew. But there was no way she was allowing this to happen. Not without them both being fully aware.

“So? You’re lovely… shouldn’t waste it…” His good hand slipped down her back and over the curve of her ass. “Not nice t’waste th’ngs…”

The look on Faye’s face only served to make Fane laugh more, because he damn well knew he was right even if it wasn’t in the sense he’d been teasing them about. Carrington would have probably ended up in a huff if he hadn’t been stoned out of his mind but it didn’t make it any less true. Nor did it actually change any of his interest in her and Carrington continued to press lazy open mouthed kisses to the flat plane of her exposed stomach all the while trying to ruck her shirt up more.

“I want to though,” it was almost petulantly said as he nipped at her skin carefully with his teeth. Not enough to harm her but enough to make his intentions very plain. Just because he was feeling a little muzzy headed and floaty from the drugs didn’t change the fact that he wanted this. “Mm, ‘n’ I think…” he nosed against the warm expanse of her skin as she shivered rolling over onto her a little more though admittedly mindful of his arm “I think you want this too.”

He grinned against her as she continued to try and protest but Carrington continued his lazy exploration his good hand grabbing a handful of her ass and giving it a generous squeeze. Looking up at her his mouth curled into a lazy contented smile, eyes still a little hooded but intent and want clear as day in the dark hazy blue of his eyes.

Fane��s words and his laughter faded out down the hall as he left Faye and Carrington alone for the time being. Faye was quickly drawn back to the man lying next to her. His mouth was wicked, she thought, with the way it moved over her bare skin. And gods above she wanted to just lie back and let him have her. Even now her body ached from the slow stroke of his fingers and the press of his lips.

“You don’t...mmphh… you don’t know that…” Faye said, trying and failing to pull her shirt down and wiggle from his grasp. He held her fast, arm curved over her waist as it was.

“Do,” Carrington said between lazy nips of his teeth. Nips that caused Faye to let out tiny huffs of air, and card her hands in his hair a bit less gently than before. This only caused Carrington to hum with approval and pull her flusher against him. He moved against her, rising slowly up the mound of her belly. Another breath left her as he gripped her backside, and her head fell back just a little. But she raised it again and looked down at him as he spoke. Her look softened, and the gentle tension of her body relaxed just a bit. Because she did want this. Very much. Just like with Fane.

“I do,” she admitted. “So much… but I-“ Faye swallowed. “I want it to be right. And not because… not because your inhibitions are gone. Or mine.” The look in his eyes… Jesus. It would be so easy. So easy to just say yes and let it happen. But what would come after? When the meds has worn off. He might not be completely gone, but how was Faye to know? She trusted him, but she cared for him too. Very much. So she would make the hard choice now. To make things better later. “But I do want this…” Her fingers brushed his face, the fall of his riotous hair. After a moment, she leaned down, hesitating just a moment before brushing his mouth with hers.

The kiss was soft. Gentle and searching and asking so many things in such a short moment.

Carrington’s hand rose to cup her face. The kiss was a surprise, but not unwelcome. His eyes fluttered shut, and he sighed into Faye’s mouth. The smile remained, and when they broke apart, he looked at her for a long moment before kissing her again just as reverently.

He made a slight noise of protest at the idea of having to wait. His haze filled mind dwelling on the fact that if they both wanted this then why was there any point to waiting? What use would it do? It wouldn’t, would it? Had he been in a more lucid state he would have certainly hesitated by now. More than that he wouldn’t even be touching her this way in memory of what had happened the last time he had. He’d scared her. But lost in the warm comfortable headspace he presently occupied he only took note of what felt good and the slightly harder tug of her fingers felt damn good.

But he was soon being distracted by the press of her mouth over his own, soft and asking so many things he didn't know how to articulate. And so he did the only thing he could, moving up he held her face while bringing their mouths together once more. Firmer, seemingly more sure than her tentativeness.

Because he did want this. And it scared him. A lot. Which was why getting to the point of admitting that was such an uphill battle. He still wasn’t sure what any of this meant, or what any of last night meant (if anything). But Fane had got him thinking about the possibilities and now Carrington didn’t wish to give them up. Heavens blast the bastard.

If there was one thing Faye wouldn’t fold on, it was the fact that it hadn’t been Carrington that she’d been afraid of. It had been the unexpected forcefulness. Once he’d kissed her it had all fallen away. And may have stayed away if not for how recently the events had happened. On the job before she’d met the two of them. Less than a year, but more than six months or so. She couldn’t quite remember. And she needed to tell him that. Before they went any further. So that he didn’t carry any more guilt than he already had.

Because she didn’t blame him at all. She blamed herself. For being so obstinate. For being so scared of letting anyone get close. Though she could say that for all of them really. They were all afraid. In some way or another. But perhaps trusting each other with those fears, trusting each other not to judge or question - other than the constructive questions - would help them overcome things. With time at least. Because Faye wanted this. She wanted Carrington. She wanted Fane. In whatever way that was supposed to work. Though from the tentative vibes she was getting, it seemed that the three of them were doing this… together? Whatever this was.

Right now, it was a kiss returned just a bit more assuredly than before. The touch of fingers over her cheeks, calloused on the tips from years of use and hard work. She’d seen the violence those fingers, those hands, could met out. Seen them bloody and bruised - and now broken - from the battles they’d fought. But right now they were gentle. They touched her like something delicate, something to be cherished. Something to be protected.

And Carrington would. In his sleepy, honey-thick thoughts, he knew he would protect them both. With his life if that’s what it took. Not that he planned on dying anytime soon. Though that would be the way of it, his subconscious murmured. To find the one thing he’d always wanted - someone that cared for him as much as he cared for them - and then lose it before he could blink. The thought made him kiss Faye with even more insistence. His hand slid up through her flyaway hair and curved around the back of her skull.

His mouth moved with purpose, desire fuelled by years of loneliness, years of solitude, years of aching for one person… one person to want him for who he was, and not what he could give them. And now there were two? Or so it seemed? Christ it was more than his heart could properly bear.

“You’ll be the death of me, the two of you.” Carrington pulled back and pressed his forehead to Faye’s. A small breath that might have been either a laugh or a sob, or even both, was warm across her cheek.

She smiled at him again. “Death is but the next great adventure, right?” she quipped, though there was more than just humor in her voice. There was something else. Something full of promise. Full of joy. Full of fear too, yes, but also full of the courage to try to push past it. To see what lay on the other side.

None of them had any sort of road or guide map on this one, they were all rather literally flying by the seat of their pants in term of what to do and when to do it. Fane had laid it more or less clean with both Carrington and Faye his own particular desires. That whatever this was, he didn’t want to choose one over the other but instead wished to share it with the both of them. Carrington had admitted to him (and tried to admit to Faye also) that he was of the same mind. It was just Faye who seemed to need to find the courage to take that final step after the little dalliance in the laundry room downstairs.

Unfortunately, her attempt the prior night had led to the unfortunate discovery of Carrington’s restless form gripped in the lock of a fierce fever. Perhaps it was that realisation. Of how close he’d come to possibly losing this chance and opportunity that drove him to act not to mention the drugs suppressing most logical thoughts that might usually go through his mind at this point. So for now his fingers skimmed, her cheek, violence and force held restrained in favour of allowing himself to be more affectionate with her. Hands that had done so much damage over the years held to the softest of brushes they might not have even happened until he held the back of her head and pulled her close so that he might get even the briefest taste of her once more. Who knew when the opportunity would ever come again.

As they broke a small distance apart, breath warm and just a little faster his eyes drifted shut content to share this silence with her after his admission. Because who knew what the future held, but her response earned a soft snort “don’t wanna know just yet.” He dipped down once more to capture her lips, sweetly this time, taking his time about it to make sure she knew this mattered to him.

It was a few kisses later that Fane toed the door open with his foot and paused; tray laden with food in hand that he studied the pair in bed. Clearing his throat, he was grinning still, “you know, I was expecting more clothes to be askew by now. Need a guide in how to undress someone?” Though whether he spoke to Carrington or Faye was debatable, or perhaps he was addressing the both of them for his own damn amusement.

Faye knew she was dragging her feet. She knew that out of the three of them, even though she had voiced the fact that she wanted this just as they had, that she had yet to truly act on it. Other than coming up to speak with Carrington about things. Though that hadn’t turned out quite as she’d hoped. Quite as any of them had hoped. But they were here now. And that’s what mattered. Faye didn’t have to be doing this. She could’ve left him on his own. Gone downstairs with Fane. But what good would that have done?

So she’d stayed. And the progress they’d made was a mile ahead of where they’d been, drug-induced bravery or not. Faye kissed him back, letting her desire for him burn low in her belly, stoically keeping it from flaming higher. There would be time for that. Or she hoped there would be. Because Carrington was right: there was no guarantee of what tomorrow would bring. They might have to make a break for it. They might be forced to go their separate ways. They might be ambushed and-

Faye didn’t allow her mind to go there. It would be alright. The three of them had been doing this for a long time separately. And come out the other side each time. Together… together they would see Monarch fall to dust. “Me either,” she said quietly. Death wasn’t an option. Not now. Not for a very, very long time.

The creaking of the door pulled her attention from the man in front of her, She looked up, blushing again at Fane’s light-hearted teasing. From his position on his side, Carrington grunted and mumbled something about Fane knowing damn well he didn’t need any help undressing anyone. But the smell of food lured him to chance sitting up. Faye did as well, propping a pillow or two behind Carrington as he used his good arm to push back against the headboard. He gave her a long-suffering look, though there was affection there as well.

“I hope you have tea,” he said to Fane, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I feel like twice-warmed shit.”

Faye scooted out of the bed to help Fane with the tray. “Did you cook the whole pantry?” she grinned, looking at the amount of food he’d managed to put together.

To his credit, Fane commented no further than he did upon entry about undressing anyone but the grin remained a fixed feature of his expression as he walked further into the room. Arriving at the bed he let the others roll and adjust themselves until they were situated comfortably. Once they were he let Faye take one that he’d been balancing and the other for Carrington.

“I mean you look like twice-warmed shit so that’s hardly news to anyone here,” Fane needled in return waving off Carrington’s comment “yeah, yeah, I don’t have bloody octopus arms do I? Wait here.” He could hardly carry everything, now could he? Though in response to Faye’s question Fane winked but said nothing. “Here’s hoping you doing get that food poisoning you were complaining about hm? It’d be a shame if I managed to live up to those expectations.”

Of course, it was all light-hearted and Carrington with some help propped his tray on his lap spearing a piece of bacon with his fork and shoving it into his mouth with little preamble. Considering he lacked the ability to cut things up they would have to deal with bad manners, but after the night he had and everything that had happened he suddenly realised how hungry he felt and by the time Fane was walking back in with a tray of his own food, a mug of coffee and a teapot he was already using a hash brown to mop up the beans on the plate.

Faye and Carrington both just rolled their eyes at Fane, and Faye helped unload the food while Fane went back for the rest. She perched on one side of Carrington, leaving the other side for Fane if he wished, and tucked into her own food once everyone was situated.

Feeling a bit less foggy after a cup of strong tea and with a belly full of comfort food (that he and Faye both complemented Fane on), Carrington examined his arm for the first time. He looked thoughtful, if a bit sheepish, and just a tad regretful. Though he didn’t say anything just yet, needing to order his thoughts (and what he remembered from the last feverish 24 hours) before asking who’d wrapped him up like a Christmas ham. Wiggling his fingers, he propped the arm back up on a pillow. His tea was in his good hand, now propped on his blanket-covered knee.

“So… anything noteworthy come from that dusty old book while I’ve been nailing this place back together?” He glanced between Faye and Fane, taking a slow sip from his mug. “Nothing? Really? In nearly a week you two brainiacs haven’t translated anything useful?” He was teasing - mostly, since a part of him genuinely wanted and needed to know - and it showed in his tone.

Faye covered her mouth, speaking around a piece of bacon. “What was that thing you said was referenced a few times? That phrase that kept poppin’ up? Somethin’ ‘bout a dagger? A necklace n’ a ‘silver box’?” She looked over at Carrington. “Don’t know what they are, but that’s the rough translation. Or so our resident linguist says.”

Once the plates and dishes were handed out Fane clambered into the space beside Faye, the mattress dipping a little under his weight settling on it. Pouring himself a strong brew on the side table and taking a sip before he speared a portion of sausage and bacon together shovelling the food into his mouth with very little preamble. Carrington seemed to be a little more awake now and whether that was the food or a general combination of him feeling better, getting a serious amount of sleep and a decently cooked breakfast Fane couldn’t tell. Though all that really mattered was the fact that he was seemingly feeling a bit better.

Another mouthful of egg, buttered toast and mushrooms vanished into his mouth as Carrington queried about the manuscript he’d spent the last few days studying. Though Carrington’s teasing caused Fane to roll his eyes and snort, “you try working from an artefact in a long since gone unspoken language and then tell me how you fair.” Fane didn’t have the same consideration for manners as Faye though he spoke mostly in the gaps between washed down mouthfuls of the fry-up he’d prepared for them.

Though Faye’s mention of a dagger did make Fane nod, “yeah, some artefact-- similar age or thereabouts. Looks to be that…” Fane swallowed another mouthful of food before he continued “mostly the script talks of this ancient prophecy that at some point in the future the earth will suffer absolute devastation but the individual able to use or wield some sort of… blade or dagger I think-- with another item and wearing the necklace… They’ll have the ability to reshape the world.” He sounded dubious. It hardly made any sort of sense to him. End of the world type shenanigans. “I doubt it’ll truly do that, but the items may go together in some other way that has been lost to time.”

Carrington sipped his tea as Faye and Fane explained what they’d learned from the manuscript that had started this whole bloody mess. “The only dead language I need to anything about is Latin. Besides, that’s what you two or for. The brainwork.” Carrington wasn’t dim. Not by a longshot. He knew a smidge of Spanish, some Portugese, French… a fair bit of Latin. A sprinkling of phrases in a few Middle Eastern languages. All things he’d picked up while in the military and on his travels. But he was no linguist or academic like the others.

Fane continued, backing up what Faye said about the other items. He frowned as something tugged at the back of his still slightly foggy mind. Letting his head fall back against the headboard, he spent a few moments contemplating what it might be, while still listening intently to Fane’s explanation. As the other man finished - specifically mentioning some sort of necklace again, Carrington’s expression turned from one of concentration to one of realization. And then his eyes closed as he sighed.

“It wouldn’t happen to be a ceremonial necklace would it? About 2,000 years old? Maybe more?”

From behind her mug, Faye frowned and looked over at Fane. “Could be. Why?” Her words were both curious and cautious, unsure where Carrington was headed with the very specific question.

Carrington took another long breath. “This isn’t the first time I’ve worked for Monarch.” He wasn’t sure if the others were aware of that fact or not. He thought so, but he couldn’t be certain in his current fogginess. “About a year and half ago, maybe two… they sent me after an artifact - a centuries old necklace made of obsidian and jade - that was in a private collection in Prague. I lifted it, gave it to them. And they paid me. And that was it.”

“But there’re tons of obsidian blades from the pre-Columbian era. What’re the chances that it’s the one this book talks about?” Faye looked to Fane, asking for his input.

Fane was halfway to shovelling another fork-full of breakfast into his mouth when Carrington spoke and his hand wavered as he glanced aside at them. Setting it down he studied Carrington’s behaviour unsure if it was down to what they were discussing or whether he was feeling fatigued from the effort of sitting up, eating and talking after everything he’d been through. Not to mention the drugs he’d been given. But he did seem concerned over something and so Fane just waited.

Though the question as it was given was rather specific, a little too specific for his liking and Fane’s eyes narrowed a little so that he was squinting at Carrington. Not unkindly, but in a rather acute observational fashion. As though he were taking this information on board and was attempting to compute it in his head. Faye’s response was decent enough and Fane scratched his chin “there’s a drawing of it in the text, think you would recognise it if you saw it?”

“Yeah, probably?” Carrington wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that question. “But-- she’s right isn’t she? What’s… the odds of it being the same one?”

As it was dismissed by Faye as being any singular blade from that era and not the one being referenced in the doomsday book they had in their possession Fane just frowned a little deeper. “I mean… If you wanna discount the fact a multi-million corporation that is somehow in control of their own global private army didn’t manage to get their hands on the matching piece to go with that text that they were willing to murder the three of us over, sure, I guess but… I can’t help but feel like there’s a goal here. Hm? Why get pieces that don’t go together? A collection you’re willing to sell will be a goldmine if it’s of the same set and-- let’s say these doomsday sayings are true and having it does somehow make you almighty and able to shape the world to your whim…” Fane didn’t say it unkindly, but his expression spoke of the fact he wasn’t so convinced that the pieces would turn out to be coincidental but be related in some fashion. Not that he thought the latter was possible, but a jumped up cult of psychotic misguided believers could be led like lambs to the slaughter given the right evidence and arguments.

In truth, Carrington felt alright. A little woozy, a little foggy, and a bit like he’d been hit by a small trolley car and backed over once or twice, but all things considered, he felt decent. So it was more the sudden ringing of the alarm bells in his head, and the subsequent unease that the current discussion was stirring to life. He saw the gazes of the others and explained himself, answering Fane’s question about a drawing. Carrington didn’t know all that much about such items, so as Faye said, one could look just like a dozen others.

He stared off into the distance, tapping his teacup with the fingers of his bandaged hand. He was listening, of course. The expression on his face said as much. It was simply how he processed things. Find a spot on the wall, a focal point, so nothing could distract him from the information he was being given.

As Carrington listened, Faye sat down her fork. What Fane said rang true. The odds were… well, the odds were astronomical. One artifact owned - previously owned, Faye reminded herself - by a Czech billionaire being the same one referenced in the text? Though the coincidences surrounding it’s acquisition made Faye frown. She didn’t believe in coincidence. Not in 99.9% of cases. There was the overhanging umbrella of Monarch being the company that had been after both the necklace and the text. They’d gotten one fairly easily, thanks to Carrington. And sent three people after the second. Then tried to kill those three people when it was in hand.

“No. No, Fane’s right,” Faye said. She sat down her plate, using both hands while she spoke. “Monarch isn’t doing this for the money. They’ve got billions, right?” She looked to Carrington for confirmation. He nodded, gesturing that she was right on the last point at least as his eyes flicked to Fane and back.

Faye continued. “If it was just about money, a company like that isn’t going to waste the time, effort, and manpower it would cost to off us to save a puny five mill. Or… well, fifteen in this case. Anyway… they’d pay up and go on their merry way. Like they did when Carrington stole the necklace.”

“I didn’t steal it. I acquired it,” he murmured to himself.

Faye raised an eyebrow at him, but got to the point. “What I’m sayin’ is, we’ve all worked jobs for people that wipe their asses with hundred dollar bills. Not once have I ever had anyone come after me like this. Ever.” She swallowed, a fleeting look of something bothersome passing over her face, but it was gone before anyone could comment. “I think what we said in the beginning still applies: they don’t want us knowing what’s in that book. And for me, coincidence is mostly bullshit.” She looked at Carrington. “In this case, I’d say the odds of that necklace being the one in the book, or at least one they think is referenced in there, are pretty good.”

Though that brought another point to light. “But if they didn’t have the book, where did they get their information from?” Faye asked. Though that was a whole other can of worms that she really didn’t want to open.

Carrington sighed. “Who knows. Maybe they Googled it.” He ignored the slightly withering look from Faye and turned back to Fane. “Show me this rendering. I’ll tell you if it’s the same one.”

“We’re all thieves here, no one’s judging you moody,” Fane needled lightly earning a huff from Carrington taking another drink of his tea as the others discussed their current situation. He was of the same opinion, a company like this wouldn’t have bothered to try and remove them if they didn’t feel it necessary to leave no trail of what it was they were up to. Which meant there had to be something larger at play here, Fane just wasn’t quite so sure what that was presently.

So hearing Faye agree to that general theory Fane pressed his lips together though Carrington’s reference of just google it did result in an eyeroll. But he nodded, “yeah, lemme finish up eating then I’ll go and fetch it.” Something niggled him though, and he scratched his chin as he pondered on it until his plate was clear and the tea he’d made drained from his cup.

How had they know about the necklace?

There was something there, something that wasn’t quite piecing together and Fane didn’t quite know what to make of it so he put a mental pin in it for now. Why did it sound so familiar? Realising he’d retreated into his own head Fane shook it off and set about loading up his tray “alright, let me take these down and then I’ll grab it.” He wasn’t so sure why he felt uneasy but chalked it up to some sort of mild paranoia about this case. Nothing else made sense.

Carrington huffed but didn’t say much else as he finished up his own food and tea. He agreed with the others. That this job was different. It wasn’t just a job, not this time. Something far darker and far more complicated was at work here. And while Carrington didn’t believe fairy tales about the end of the world, or any of that sort of rubbish, he knew others did. And belief in something could make people dangerous. Monarch was already dangerous.

He rubbed his good hand over his face as Fane packed up the dishes when they were all done.

Faye had gotten up as well, and Carrington turned to watch her rummage through his drawers once Fane had disappeared briefly. His eyes tracked down her small form, not in a leering way, but merely in observation of how she had to stand on her tiptoes to see into the top of the dresser. “I could fashion you a stool for that, if you like?” he said, a bit surprised that he was able to find a bit of humor in himself, current situation and all.

Faye paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Well, we can’t all be giants now can we?” She managed to find a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, as well a long-sleeved jumper. “Do you need some help with these?” she asked as she laid them on the bed.

Carrington shook his head. “No. But the offer is appreciated. I think actually… I’d quite like a shower once I’ve looked at the professor’s book. Might need some help.” He wiggled his wrapped fingers at her. “Invalid and all.”

Faye was about to comment, but Fane returned before she could. “Carrington says he stinks,” she told Fane. “Said you should wash his back for him.”

Fane had stopped off downstairs in the kitchen to deposit the items in the dishwasher that would be put on later before he looped around on his journey to the library. It had been here that most of his days and nights had been spent working on attempting to decode the text and so it was from here he picked up the notes he’d made in his journal which included (a rather decent in his opinion) copy of the blade depicted in the original text. Scooping it up and tucking it under his arm as he returned back upstairs. He did however look a little confused at Faye’s announcement.

“And there was me thinking you would jump at the opportunity to get his clothes off if earlier was anything to go by,” Fane squinted at her a little though it was all in jest. “Or is it you just want me to get wet too so you can have the both of us without clothes hm? I see what you’re up to.” For good measure he waggled his brows at her but soon enough was circling round to the edge of the bed where Carrington had sat up and was now perched.

Sitting down beside him Fane flicked open to the relevant page, letting Carrington take it in his good hand and study the image. “Shit,” was his first remark followed up by “yeah… That’s it,” he manipulated the book to tap at a part of the hilt “I remember it distinctly had that symbol carved into its hilt… That’s the one I took for them.”

Fane pulled a face, “well, at least we know where one piece of the puzzle is… I guess that’s one bonus,” downside being they were tied in terms of items; their trio with the manuscript and Monarch with the dagger. “Guess it means we need to try and figure out where this box thing is.”

“All things in due time. Isn’t that what you Brits say?” Faye commented to Carrington at Fane’s tease.

“I do what I want. Isn’t that what you Americans say?” Carrington quipped back.

Faye merely tipped an eyebrow and cleared her throat. She was not thinking about the pair of them wet and soapy… together… all sweaty and- “Anyway. The picture?” They had a job to do after all. And that job wasn’t just each other. Oh for- “You’re certain?” Faye asked, coming over to look at the image herself. Though she’d already seen it several times.

“Yes. I’m certain.” Carrington’s eyes flicked to Faye. There was a slight edge of his old tone in the words, but it didn’t go any further than the one comment. “It was in Prague less than two years ago. I’ve never heard mention of a silver box.” His eyes turned back to Fane. “If I were Monarch,” he said to Fane, agreeing with him, “that’s exactly what I’d be doing. They know we have the book. But we’ve ghosted them. For now. How long that’ll last…” He clamped off the rest. They all knew their time was limited. Best not to waste it.

Faye sighed, moving off to pace in front of the fireplace. “Could ‘silver box’ be a metaphor?” she asked Fane. “For something else?”

“The picture picture or mental picture you just had?” Fane shot her a slightly lascivious and utterly knowing look. Because Faye was good, damn good but there were some things that were hard to mask and where her mind had gone following his quip was not one of those she could easily conceal.

Unfortunately for them all, talk moved on to the topic of the necklace and with Carrington’s confirmation Fane clicked his tongue lightly. “Well, guess we know what our next move is-- Get the box before the creepy ghost organisation with mega-millionaires bank rolling them hm?” His tone was dry, but despite the seemingly impossible prospects he had decent hopes for them. Who knew how long it had taken them to figure out their last clue, not to mention this one.

Faye’s question though caused Fane to glance over at her, “I’m… not sure. Possibly. I’ll have to keep researching and see whether I come up with anything… I’ll keep trying to work through the manuscript. The more of it we translate and understand the better chances we have at piecing all of this together.” There wasn’t much else to be done beyond that.

“Well, for now, I’m gonna get a shower and try not to slip and crack my skull open in the process,” Carrington announced over the slightly morbid insinuation that hung over their prospects of success. He glanced at the window, “might go on a walk too… Clear skies.”

“If you’re going on a walk later Faye’s going with you… I don’t want you wandering off into some… bush whilst high on whatever it is meds you got dosed up with hm?”

“The picture,” Faye said, cheeks flaming red as she did her best to ignore Fane’s comments. He knew she was in need of a good snog - or more - and teasing her was nearly cruel at this point. Relatively speaking, of course. She knew he meant no harm. Thankfully, the subject changed to something relevant. “Oh, well that should be easy enough. The three of us and our huge pool of personal resources against… what was it you said? Ghost organization being funded by billionaires? Sounds about even.” Her sarcasm practically dripped from the words, but she turned her cynicism inwards and tried to think.

“We need to get online somehow. Without getting dinged by anyone. I still have access to some of the archival networks. I can look up private collections, auctions, the works. Might be able to dig up some information that way.” She glanced at Carrington. “Let me wrap that arm in something so it doesn’t get wet?”

Carrington sighed, looking at the bulky bandage before relenting. It would have to come off if it got wet. “Fine,” he said to Faye, though the comment served as an answer to Fane’s comment as well. “Would either of you like to put a bell around my neck while we’re at it? I’m not going to wander off and disappear onto the moors.” The return of his usual acerbic manner - though not as bitingly sharp as it had been before his incident - was a good sign. Or at least Faye thought so. It meant he was feeling better.

“Don’t have any bells,” Faye said, “but Fane could probably fix your meds up into a biscuit so you don’t taste them.” She grinned and shook the bottle of antibiotics at him, indicating he should take the morning dose now that he’d eaten.

Carrington simply glared at her before reaching for the bottle. He popped the top with his good hand, tapped one pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry before recapping and tossing it back to Faye. “I’m not a dog,” he said, taking his clothes from the bed and moving to the bathroom. “Now come wrap my bloody arm so we can get on with it…”

There were several things left to be said in response but for once Fane let it be. Let Faye have the time because while it was good natured teasing he wasn’t doing it to be cruel or anything else. Perhaps later. They’d just have to see how it all went he supposed.

“I’ll see about getting us set up,” Fane said in response to the topic of getting them online. It would take a little bit but they would manage it well enough. “We’ll need some equipment,” but Fane had contacts that would be able to get them that stuff. Fane glanced between the pair of them as they quipped back and forth unable to help the little smile at Carrington’s attitude. “Well, someone seems to be feeling better. We’ll get some cling-film and get it wrapped up.” There was no point wasting the work Jess had done. “Think you could grab it for me while I’m sorting him out?”

Carrington gave him a look as if to say I can still hear you. But it was ignored in favour of talking to Faye. Only as he took the meds Fane just grinned slightly only then addressing him “I mean you're very good at following orders… and you come when I tell you sooo… I would be willing to debate that fact.” Fane was still grinning as Carrington flipped him the bird with his good hand and vanished into the bathroom for whoever was going to do his arm.

Faye nodded, and Carrington made a sound of agreement as well. Online resources and archives would be invaluable if they were going to narrow down where this last item might be. Faye could do that at least. She’d worked in the archives at her last legitimate job before she was ‘let go.’ They were all idiots anyway.

She made her way towards the door, in search of the plastic wrap Fane had asked for. “I’ll be right back,” she said, covering her mouth to hide her grin at Fane’s comment to Carrington.

As for the man himself, he started the shower and let it run while he made to brush his teeth and stare at himself in the mirror for a long moment afterwards. He really did look like hell. He needed a shave, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He turned off the sink as he heard Fane enter. “So which one of you is responsible for wrapping me up like a ham?” he asked, scraping his other hand back through his hair after one last look in the mirror.

They would have to see how things came along, for now though Faye moved off to find the wrap and Fane followed Carrington into the bathroom. He hung back a little as Carrington inspected himself in the mirror, he really did look a mess. Though after everything that he had been through Fane would have been surprised if he looked anything but that. He certainly needed a shave and a haircut, the former was something Fane could assist him with the latter? Maybe Faye could aid there. He’d mention it to her.

“No idea, but you woke up in bed with Faye so let’s go with it’s her taking care of you ‘cause you can’t seem to take care of yourself hm?” Fane gave him a look, knowing quite clearly he was also referencing Carrington’s hand and what its neglect had led to the night before. “Can you really blame her for being worried about you?” Fane stepped up behind Carrington being an inch or so taller he looked at Cari’s reflection raising a hand to lightly touch the other man’s beard “this needs to go, I don’t like it.”

Carrington huffed ducking away a little from the touch, “so what if you don’t? Maybe I want to keep it.”

Fane pulled a face, “bull, look at you, it looks weird at least trim it or… something jesus.” Fane occupied himself then by gripping Carrington’s shirt giving it a small yank until the man got the hint and with a dry comment of being able to undress himself let Fane manipulate his shirt off him and over the bandages wrapped about his arm. Once it was off Fane dropped it in the corner and took a moment then to inspect Cari’s arms, shoulders, back and chest generally for any other signs or complications that might make themselves known. Happy that there wasn’t anything else he glanced back as he heard the door open “in here,” he called to her so she would know where they were though she could have figured it herself more than likely but it didn’t hurt.

Carrington looked at Fane, his expression saying that he didn’t believe half of what the other man was saying. “Faye did this?” He held up his arm. “Well, remind me to thank her then.” He met Fane’s eyes in the mirror as the taller man stepped up behind him. “She also have those medications in her bag? Antibiotics and Oxy?”

He didn’t comment on whether he blamed Faye for worrying over him (he didn’t) and instead snapped back at Fane’s comment about his beard. “You trim it if you don’t like it,” Carrington said, feeling a bit obstinate after waking up to the realization that he’d been out for the count for the last twelve hours or so. And hadn’t had a choice in what had happened to his person. Not that whatever had been done wasn’t absolutely necessary (that part was mute when it came to being slightly stubborn). He stood still and let Fane undress and inspect his upper body, sighing to himself as he heard Faye’s return. Just what he needed: the two of them ganging up on him.

Faye came in, brandishing a roll of plastic wrap, having heard a bit of the conversation before. She wasn’t sure what Fane wanted Carrington to know about last night - the trip to the vet’s office and Jess’ knowledge that they were here to be specific - so she kept quiet for now. Though Faye thought he should know that someone knew they were up here.

“I’d say your track record for makin’ good choices where your personal well-bein’ is concerned is pretty much shit.” She leaned against the doorjamb, crossing her arms. “So says the broken hand and near-miss blood infection.” Her eyes moved over Carrington again, her previous timidness and softness hidden back behind sharp humor and no-nonsense attitude. “You look homeless. Let him shave you.”

The question about the medication and pieces caused Fane to look at Carrington for a moment, not exactly surprised more a little confused about what he was asking. “You remember anything about last night?” he figured not, but depending on the answer it would explain a fair bit. Not that Fane was deliberately keeping information from Carrington, he simply hadn’t entirely understood what the man was asking until now. “No… She didn’t, we ended up having to take you to a friend of mine’s-- and before you jump the gun, no, we didn’t go to the hospital,” Fane said with a small raise of his hand. “My friend splinted your hand, Faye helped to bandage it…”

Carrington’s eyes narrowed at the mention of going to a friend’s “where’d we go then? Seems pretty convenient you being able to get this stuff… Especially when we’re out in the sticks.”

“She’s uh-- well, she’s a vet. Lives in a town not far from here” which just made Carrington’s earlier remark about not being a dog all the more ironic considering where they had ended up taking him to be treated. “Jess said that she’d X-Ray your hand and cast it properly next week if we brought you back down to her clinic.”

The soldier grew sullenly quiet then, seeming to need the time to digest this fact. It was at this point Faye arrived back and Fane glanced over at her with a small nod of thanks. “She’s right,” he said indicating towards her before taking the wrap in hand and starting about the task of wrapping up Carrington’s bandages so that no water would get into them. “Shower first then I’ll sort the mess your face is in.”

Carrington let Fane wrap his hand while the ex-soldier thought over what the others had done in order to secure his well-being. In the grand scheme of things, it might not seem like much. But for someone like Carrington, it meant… it meant everything. No one had ever stuck around long enough to see through the thick layers of sharp words, bullshit, and casual indifference that he’d built up over the years. No one had ever cared that much about him, besides his mother. The steam from the shower was starting to fill the room. The glass was fogging a bit once Fane was done wrapping Carrington’s hand. Suddenly, he blinked, and said, “I’m sorry. For letting it get that bad.” The words were said softly, but in a tone that they others would know to be genuine. Carrington looked up, eyes moving between the two of them. “Thank you.” The moment didn’t last long, and even before Faye and Fane could register what the other man had said, he was looking away again. “Let’s see about washing my ass then, shall we?”

For her part, Faye both watched Carrington intently, and tried not to be too obvious as Fane wrapped the bandage. He was worrying over something in that head of his, she could tell. And when it finally came out, Faye’s own reaction wasn’t what she’d thought. There was no ‘I told you so,’ or ‘that’s what I thought.’ Nothing meant to hurt or shame or make Carrington feel badly for what he’d allowed to fester. He was simply being true to his nature. And for that, Faye - and she assumed Fane as well - could never blame him.

“‘S alright,” Faye said quietly. Her tone was much different than it had been a moment before, touched as she was by Carrington’s apology. “You gave us a bit of a scare though. Stubborn ass.” She smiled at him as he moved to the shower.

Fane understood to a point about how difficult it was for Carrington to say these sorts of things, so his apology was met with a small smile and a hand raising to lightly pat his shoulder. A small affection but enough to show that he’d been heard. “Yeah though for that to happen I’d suggest taking the trousers off hm?” Hearing Faye speak and admit something that was the case for both of them Fane just looked down a little, feeling… he didn’t really know what honestly but he’d ponder on it later. Setting the wrap aside just to occupy his hands with something.

“Oh-- yeah,” Carrington was a little hazy from the new drugs he’d taken this morning after the food though not half so bad as he was the night before. Though he did have the decency to look down at Faye’s mention of scaring them, he didn’t seem sure of what to say and Fane spoke instead.

“Just-- don’t let it get this bad if anything ever happens again, tell us so we can help,” because that was what they all wanted to do at the end of the day. Carrington’s eyes flickered to Fane and the two men shared a look before the ex-soldier dipped his head.

“Okay. I will.”

It was enough for Fane who glanced over at Faye unsure if she was staying or going to get ready herself considering Carrington would have to strip down and she seemed rather insistent about certainly not being the one to shower him herself. He didn’t want her to feel like she was being kicked out or anything, but he also didn’t want her uncomfortable and feel obligated to stay if she would rather go and get washed herself. So Fane gave her an out if she wanted it “I’ll get him sorted and then we’ll regroup after? I’ll probably shave that monstrosity off his face too while we’re at it so might still be in here by the time you’re done.”

When Carrington agreed to let them know if anything came up in the future, Faye nodded. She felt slightly awkward standing there after that, waiting on him to drop his pants. A bit out of the loop even, since Carrington didn’t look at her again after that. Though she tried not to read into it. They’d all said their part in regards to what they wanted here. The only one to not take the leap yet - relatively speaking - was Faye. But she was working on it.

So when Fane gave her an out, she almost didn’t take it. She didn’t want to seem like she was running away. Because she wasn’t. Was she still scared about all this? Not just Monarch and what that could mean in the future, but this? The three of them and whatever was growing between them? Yes, she was. She was terrified.

“I’ll just…” She gestured over her shoulder. “Go. Get cleaned up. Um. I’ll be back.” With a tight smile she turned and left, heading to her room to shower and get a fresh change clothes. And sort her head. If that was possible.

Carrington turned his head slightly to watch her go. A frown crossed his face as he pondered how different Faye was than Fane. But how similar as well. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced over to see Fane watching him. Huffing slightly through his nose, he got rid of his joggers and moved to step into the shower. He kept his twice wrapped arm out of the spray, holding it aloft and bracing it against the wall. “Go on. I know you have something to say. I can see it milling around inside that head of yours.”

Fane didn’t see Faye taking some time to try and order everything that was happening as her running away, simply as her ordering everything for when the pair finally spoke without his presence hovering nearby. Carrington had tried in a roundabout way to make his intent clear even if it had backfired but Fane had spoken with them respectively and knew it was just a matter of explanation that would eventually be solved. Perhaps when they went on their walk later.

When it was just the pair of them left he did study Carrington for a long moment, nonplussed as he shucked his trousers and stepped under the spray soaking himself in water. The trails dripped and run in smooth rivulets over the ex-soldier’s body and Fane found himself interested in watching a couple trailing down the slopes of Carrington’s shoulders when he was brought from his thoughts by Carrington’s passing remark. “Hardly anything new, just that you two need a chance to talk and Faye needs to explain some things I think… There’s a reason behind what she did the other day and I think she needs to talk to you about it before anything can move forwards.”

Fane didn’t know if he was right or not, but it was more or less what he’d gathered from everything that had happened. But he supposed it didn’t matter, he let Carrington soak for a while and scrub his hair clean from the sweat and fever he’d had the prior night. Once he started scrubbing himself down one-handedly Fane intervened when he seemed to be having some difficulty, taking the sponge and mindful of the spray started scrubbing at Carrington’s back and down his body. He got a little spray here and there but thankfully for the most part stayed dry.

Once Carrington was lathered and washed the soap from his body Fane stepped out from the stall and found a towel for Carrington to wrap himself in. Moving to pull a stool out from under the sink Fane knew Carrington would sit and thus started to fill the basin with warm water so that he could set about sorting Carrington’s beard out.

“I gathered it was something like that,” Carrington said as he dipped his head beneath the water. He let it run over his face, then his shoulders, then set about the process of getting cleaned up. Once upon a time, he might have tried to suffer through bathing himself even with a busted hand. But now… now Carrington was just tired. Not really in a physical sense - he felt much better than he had just a scant hour or two before - but in a mental sense. Not so much with the work, it was what it was, but with the constant need he felt to always be on guard. Never letting his defenses drop. Never letting anyone in. Always letting his stubborn pride get in the way of ever connecting with another person. Not that there had ever been anyone, but the fact remained that his existence was lonely. And much harder than it had to be. Because of who he was. Because of who the world and his experiences had shaped him into.

He let Fane help him finish up, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the pressure of the other man’s hands working the soap over his body. When they were done, he felt exponentially better. Without too much protest - just another vaguely put-upon sigh that was merely a trademark sound at this point - he dried off as best he could and wrapped the towel loosely around his waist before sitting down on the stool.

Down the hall, Faye was finishing up her own shower. She’d taken no real joy in it, moving mechanically to wash her hair and body, then rinse the soap off. She shaved her legs and armpits, grimacing at the prickliness that had been allowed to grow over the last few days. God what she wouldn’t give for a long, hot soak in the bath. Her skin would thank her, she knew. Maybe she could make up a sugar scrub for herself. Get rid of the layers of dead skin that traipsing about in the jungle had left to build up. Maybe she’d go back to the market, get some of those mudmasks to help ease the damage done by the wind and sun to her complexion.

Christ she sounded ridiculous, even in her head. They weren’t here for her to have a vacation. They were here to work. So what if she looked like she did? Who cared?

You do , her inner voice said.

“Shut up,” Faye said as she turned off the water and got out. She dried quickly, brushed her teeth, sorted her mess of hair as best she could and threw on some clean jeans and a long-sleeved jumper. She headed back down the hall, and when she didn’t hear the shower running, she cleared her throat before peeking back into the bathroom.

Faye didn’t say anything, just stood and watched as Fane was starting to get rid of Carrington’s scruffy, unkempt beard.

There wasn’t much conversation that happened between Fane and Carrington then, they both knew Carrington and Faye were going to talk at some point and that point was likely sometime over the next day or few days. At least, that was what Fane hoped. So once Carrington had the towel around his waist and perched on the stool Fane took the time to check the length of his beard. Grabbing a pair of scissors first to cut it down to a far more reasonable and manageable length, the pieces falling to the floor to be cleaned up later.

Once Fane had it at a length he was more happy with then he lathered up his hands with shaving cream which was then soaped onto Carrington’s jaw thick enough that the suds turned the lower half of his face into a white frothy mess. Once Fane was satisfied that he was decently lathered next came the razor that was soaked quickly before he started to work at shaving Carrington’s face in smooth neat little tugs, occasionally having to tilt the other man’s head this way and that to get the right angle. Every now and then Fane stopped to wash the razor in the water before he set about the task once more pulling Carrington’s skin taut as he worked around his upper lip.

Fane was just soaking the razor again when Faye arrived and he sent a smile over to her, “he looks better already doesn’t he? I think he could use a haircut too while we’re at it.”

Carrington for his part sent Fane a long-suffering look, “you’re insufferable.”

“I know, it’s a charm, don’t you think?” he asked Faye with a grin as he returned back to Carrington and continued to shave him until he was down to the other man’s neck.

“I’m surprised he let you that close to his neck with somethin’ so sharp,” Faye said, though she was smiling. Carrington did look better, not that she minded the beard, but considering his current state, the unkempt facial hair only lended to a rather haggard appearance. “What makes you think I know anythin’ about cuttin’ hair?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just ‘cause I’m a woman? That’s quite sexist of you.”

Carrington snorted, but kept his eyes closed. “One of many,” he murmured in answer to Fane’s question.

Faye could only shrug as she agreed with him. “If you really want a trim though, I can try. Don’t blame me if you end up bald though.”

They chatted idly while Fane finished up Carrington’s shave. Carrington himself remained fairly quiet, content to listen to the voices of the others. It was something he was very good at: quiet observation. It was what had made him good at his job when he’d still been in his unit. Listening, watching, finding out things that needed knowing. For instance, there was an ease to the way Faye spoke to Fane. An ease that didn’t quite exist yet between her and himself. Yet that same ease existed when she spoke to him across the buffer of Fane’s presence. The other man was the centerpoint it seemed. Around which he and Faye currently circled each other. He wondered idly if Fane had slept with her yet. If that was part of the reason they seemed comfortable with each other.

Surprisingly, there was no jealousy in the thought. If anything, it stirred another type of thought. One he’d tried to avoid as much as possible. But it had passed through his head now, and there was no stopping it. He could hardly move with the razor scraping away at his neck, so as the consequences of his errant mind started to make themselves known, he adjusted his hands, hoping to quell any further… complications.

“I’ll pass for now, thanks,” Carrington said, unsure if he could handle the feel of Faye’s hands in his hair right now.

“It’s not sexist if I’m being honest, I just think if I end up trying he’ll end up with something lopsided,” Fane glanced at the other man with a grin knowing he couldn’t move very well with how Fane had him held. Fane settled into the quietness of the task at hand, making the odd remark and comment to Faye every now and then as he worked. Slowly the shaving cream was removed from Carrington’s jaw leaving him clean-shaven as Fane slowly worked down his jaw in precise and mindful strokes of the blade. He wasn’t aware of Carrington’s musings, or ponderings, Faye and he had shared nothing more than that moment in the laundry room the other day but he would be a liar to say he hadn’t thought of sharing more than just that brief rendezvous with her.

Fane did notice how Carrington adjusted a little in his seat, though he put it down simply to being uncomfortable on the short stool and nothing more than that. Why would he? There was nothing in particular about this situation that was enticing so for once he didn’t think of anything other than the situation that was simply at hand. “You do need a cut at some point,” but Fane didn’t push it and instead finished up down Carrington’s neck grabbing a spare towel to wipe the excess cream off his face “there you go, smooth as a baby’s bottom,” he quipped affectionately patting Carrington’s cheek before he pushed back to stand.

“You alright to get dressed?” Fane asked Carrington, considering Fane was now the only one not dressed and his mattress would also need dragging back into his room from where it was discarded on the floor.

“I’m fine, yes,” Carrington said, huffing as Fane patted his cheek. He needed a moment to sort himself out anyway. Getting up right now wasn’t an option, not if he wanted to avoid any distractions. Not that they wouldn’t be welcome ones, but they truly did have business to get on with. They’d spent enough time dallying around already. No thanks to his own stupidity.

Faye pushed off the doorjamb once Fane was done with Carrington’s shave. “I’m just gonna go down and see to a few things. If you still wanna go for that walk… I wouldn’t mind seeing the grounds?”

She said this to Carrington, who glanced over at her. After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “Alright. Quarter past then?” It was closing in on 9 am. Still early, but much later than any of them usually allowed. Though Faye despised mornings.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll um… I can make up a sling for your arm too. So you don’t have to worry about bangin’ it on anything.” Faye gave a small smile after that and disappeared again.

Carrington watched her go and scrubbed his good hand over his face once she was out of sight. “Christ save me from difficult women…” he muttered to himself.

With the two seeming to sort their day out between them, Fane glanced between them content that at least they weren’t bickering and set about cleaning up. Emptying the sink as he listened to them organise when they would be heading out, “it’s probably going to be a bit overgrown out there but hardly comparable to the jungle,” Fane jested lightly which did make Carrington roll his eyes.

When Faye headed off and Fane had finished washing the sink out, he did snort at Carrington’s passing remark “don’t let her hear you say that.”

“I have better sense than to let that happen.”

“Doubtful, but I’ll take your word for it on this occasion.” Carrington muttered something Fane didn’t wish to repeat, though it did make him laugh “I’ll leave you to sort your morning wood out hm? Nice attempt to hide it,” Fane remarked knowing Carrington should have gotten up by now but his frame still perched on the stool indicated something else was up - rather literally.

“Oh shut up you dick.”

“I’m not the one with the dick issues right now mate,” Fane laughed, patted Carrington on the shoulder before slinking through the door to go get ready himself. The sound of the mattress being dragged out with him as he shuffled back to his room with it echoing in his wake.

At quarter past on the dot, Carrington arrived downstairs having dressed in a shirt, jumper, jeans and a jacket. Though he was presently eyeing his boots rather disdainfully considering doing them up one handed was going to prove a far sight harder than any of his other tasks today.

#explorer au #scene

[amyscascadingtabs]

for the first time, I think I’d consider the stay

It's the night before the wedding, and Jake is nervous. Amy calms him down.

Read on AO3

(I've been writing this on my phone late at night and early in the morning throughout the week and then I ended up with something which I've tried to edit until it seemed decent, which is... this I guess. Super soft and super fluffy like always when I write these two because w e l l. THEY’RE GETTING MARRIED)

The lights in their bedroom have been shut off for an hour now. A faint glow from street lights outside shining through the curtains is the room’s only source of illumination, the odd hum of an especially loud car or motorbike is the only sound except their breathing he can hear. He still can’t sleep. It feels as if someone has superglued his eyelids open or as if Rosa laced his water with caffeine again, only none of that is true this time. The reason Jake Peralta can’t fall asleep is because he’s nervous.

After the intense last week of hysterical wedding planning, complete with napkin choices and gift bag assembling and dessert orders, there are only hours left now. His tux hangs ready next to the dress he’s yet to see his so-soon-to-be-wife in, the rings have been ready for a long time and lay in matching boxes on his drawer. He even finished learning his vows on time after Gina came over and helped him practice.

(He had a few questions about her methods, most of which included a lot of yelling and a fair amount of verbal threats, but he knows the vows by heart now so he supposes she can’t have been all bad.)

He’s getting married tomorrow. He’s getting married to the best person, best former detective, current sergeant and future captain he knows, the one curled up next to him in bed with her hand laced in his. Amy stirs a little in her sleep. She mumbles something incoherent, and he marvels over the perfect feeling of safety he gets from having her so close to him each night.

(Sleeping next to her is one of the best things he knows after, well, sleeping with her as in sexy-timez. When the two of those events follow each other, which - not that he’s bragging or anything - is often, Jake’s practically in heaven.)

He wonders if she’s as nervous for tomorrow as he is. Everything since the day after Halloween, when the planning begun, has been leading up to the day that’s awaiting them tomorrow. Everything is ready, and now when it’s here he can’t help but shake the sensation it’s all too good to be true. What if something goes horribly wrong? What if he somehow has inherited his father’s less than worthless marriage-skills? What if Amy suddenly changes her mind and doesn’t want to marry him?

He has to check.

“Ames?”

“Mm-hmm?” Her voice is low, barely audible, but it calms him still.

“Do you want to get married tomorrow?”, he leans over to whisper in her ear. She doesn’t open her eyes, but the fond smile she gives him is enough to let him know she heard him.

“Go to sleep, Jake”, she answers, still smiling.

“Do you want to marry me tomorrow?”

“Yeah, babe. I want to marry you tomorrow. Now go to sleep.”

“I still can’t believe you said yes when I proposed”, Jake admits, blatantly ignoring her orders about closing his eyes. “I mean, I figured you would, but I didn’t know for sure. You could’ve refused.”

“You think I would have refused to marry you?” She turns around to face him, looking positively amused.

“You could have! You’re a strong independent woman who don’t need no man.” It’s an attempt to make her laugh, like so many other things he does, but the truth it holds is causing his cheeks to redden in the half-darkness.

“Well, luckily need and want are two different things. And this strong, independent woman wants to marry you. A lot.” She gives him an innocent forehead smooch before resting her head on her chest, the relaxing weight calming him as much as the scent of her, warm and familiar, does. “Now please get some rest. I have to get up in five hours if I’m going to look pretty for this wedding.”

“You could wear an old lost and found Halloween costume and still be the prettiest in the entire world, Ames.”

“I know you think that. But wait until you see me in that dress. You will lose your mind.”

He wraps his arms around her, right hand playing with her hair. “Amy Peralta, I don’t think I can wait another minute.”

“Jacob Santiago, I think you can wait a few more hours. Just close your eyes.” She squeezes the one of his hands not in her hair and buries her nose in his t-shirt. “You don’t have to be nervous. We’re on track with the binder, so it’s going to be fine.”

“I know. I’m not nervous anymore.” He means it. It’s much more difficult to worry when she’s in his arms all sleepy and affectionate in the most lovable combination. To be fair, he’s not sure he could ever feel a single negative thing in these moments.

“I love you”, she says before closing her eyes again.

“I love you too.”

What is there to be nervous about, anyway? What’s the worst thing that could happen? (A bomb threat? Pshh. He has to be realistic.)

Jake has known he wants this for over a year now. He’s been sure of it every day since that April evening with a single typo in a crossword puzzle and a sudden insight that yes, he wants to spend the rest of his life with this high-strung and binder-loving, quick-witted and drop-dead gorgeous nerd that gets upset over errors in crossword puzzles. As long as she’s there next to him, he knows it will all be okay.

Tomorrow his love for her - and hers for him - will be made official in front of their friends and family. He will promise her his forever and she will promise him hers. They’ll be husband and wife, real and actual grown-ups with their names on a contract. Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago will be Jake and Amy Santiago-Peralta.

He whispers those names to himself as he finally feels his body grow heavy and his thoughts fog.

He really can’t wait to marry Amy Santiago.

Only a few more hours. He’s just going to get some rest first.

#b99 fic #jake x amy fic #jake x amy #my writing #peraltiago fic #peraltiago #brooklyn 99 #b99 #jake peralta #amy santiago

[sunnysidewrites]

Angel Down | Jeonghan

Genre: mafia!au, seemingly fluff for 10 seconds and then the angst kicks in and now im crying goodbye

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader ft. NCT’s Johnny LOL

Word count: 2354

Synopsis: Despite being so sleepy all the time, Jeonghan has trouble falling asleep unless you’re with him. You make him his favorite chicken dish to help ease his stress, but he never got to eat it. 

A/N: wow yall im actually tearing up so have fun with this :’))) here is the last present I had for Jeonghan’s bday!!! and this is also to celebrate vocal unit’s song “Pinwheel” and yes i will now retreat to my corner and bawl!!!!

Warnings: 1 bad word, gun violence, mentions of blood, my actual tears

The soft pitter-patter of small drops lightly stained the glass windows as the darkness engulfed the corners of your bedroom. Soft puffs of breath filled in the deafening silence the ungodly hours of the early morning welcomed.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmurs, his eyes blinking slowly as he scans your face to drink in all the shadows falling upon every curve and line. You giggled just as tired as he looked and scooted closer to him. “Says the boy who looks like he’s about to pass out any second.” He pouts in defense. “You know my sleeping habits by now… Today was just a tiring day without you.” You let out a small breath of playful disbelief. “Leave it all to Yoon Jeonghan for still being cheesy even when he’s deprived of rest.”

His melodic soft chuckle brought warmth to your chest. “Can you hold my hand? I need to feel you here with me to help me sleep.” “Alright, you big baby,” you laughed and gently took ahold of his right hand. He instantly closes his eyes and squeezes your palm, the mere feeling of your presence a lullaby for his racing thoughts. You can already see his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he barely gets out the words of “goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my angel,” you squeeze his hand back and snuggle closer to his chest.

The routinely morning comes after that: he sleepily stumbles in the kitchen half-awake, gives you a hug and a thank-you kiss for the breakfast, eats it in 10 minutes flat, quickly adjusts his tie, signals to his bodyguard who’s practically your second one to leave, gives you one last kiss, promises he’ll be back by dinnertime, and is out the door with his bodyguard giving you a small wave.

Once the door shuts, your raised hand falls limp against your side. You lean against the kitchen counter, your head in your hands as a heavy sigh heaves out of your chest. Your personal bodyguard curiously quirks his head but makes no move to speak. You ask him the same question:

“He’ll be okay, right?”

And he gives you the same answer:

“He always is with you by his side, is what he frequently tells our department.”

You felt weak, powerless, and utterly useless. The last time you talked work with Jeonghan only ended up in a circled discussion about not getting you involved for the best. You numbly turn back to the marinated chicken in the wide plastic tub. “The only thing I can do is cook his favorite chicken…” He shakes his head in disagreement. “Y/N, you wield more power over Mr. Yoon more than you know.”

You shrug and start searching the fridge for more ingredients. “Am I supposed to stay sheltered because I’m a weapon then?” You talked over the loud crisps of the produce bags Jeonghan went a little too crazy with the pears on sale. “He’s only trying to keep you safe from his enemies. You probably know that better than Mr. Yoon himself.”

You sigh and pull out the kimchi in the back of the bottom shelf. “Yeah, I know… I know. Well,” you rolled up your sleeves, “this stew isn’t going to cook itself. Pass me the cutting board.”

“Chan.”

The younger man scurries quickly in front of his boss, tripping over his own feet in the process. He gulps and hastily wipes away his minuscule beads of sweat on his forehead before clearing his throat. “Xu Minghao has last been seen with Kwon Soonyoung at an underground club with seemingly one of the other Families. Kim Mingyu and Wonwoo have been attempting to discreetly purchase weapons from low-end unknown shops but our people are connected with the owner’s friend’s cousin.”

“So that’s the game they’re playing,” a bitter chuckle escapes from his lips before the tension refocuses on his next heavy words. “And Choi Seungcheol?”

“He… hasn’t been able to be tracked down. He’s covered up his tracks fairly well…”

Jeonghan smiles to himself and clasps his hands on his abdomen. “Of course. He was never one to sloppily do his job. Thank you, Chan.”

Another male on his left speaks up, “They’re clearly trying to rebel against us. This is what they’ve been plotting since the robbery.” Jeonghan nods knowingly. “Cheol showed the signs leading up to the incident. I must say this doesn’t surprise me in the slightest; he’s always been a strong headed person, someone who was meant to be a leader. Now is his real chance if he’s about to go against his own people.”

“Were. We were his own people,” another voice chimed in. “I can’t believe that bastard went against us…” The man on Jeonghan’s left sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Junhui… No one expected Minghao to leave so readily.” Junhui merely shrugged, signalling an end to the discussion. “Maybe this is just helped us see where our loyalties lie.”

Jeonghan slowly got up and placed his hands on the intricately carved wooden table. “Well, we have to defend ourselves somehow, right? They could be attacking us anytime, whether it’s in an hour, later tonight, next week… Everyone knows the drill?” Once they all nodded or said scattered “yes”-es, he turned to his left. “Notify the others immediately, Jisoo. Defense Plan will be in effect from this moment on.”

His confidant nods and hesitates before questioning, “What about your partner, Jeonghan? Is it safe over there?”

Jeonghan drops his gaze for a second before gazing back up again. He claps Jisoo’s shoulder and gives him a smile that’s hopefully reassuring to him as much as to himself. “Y/N has a bodyguard and the emergency button, and I don’t suppose there will be much travelling unless it’s to the nearest grocery market which is about three minutes away. In any case, it’s best to just stay in the apartment, and I’ve reiterated that too many times to the point Y/N can probably recite my speech about it.” Jisoo looks at him worriedly, his eyebrows furrowed together. “I can send more bodyguards over there. Perhaps one is inadequate?”

Jeonghan nods and sighs. “Send our best ones. We have to defend as much as we can, and there’s no way I’m risking any more people.”

You sigh dramatically as you plop your body on the soft black leather armchair. You glance at your bodyguard, a stony expression fixed on his face as usual. You sigh loudly again but he shows no reaction.

You sit up and lean forwards on one of the arms. “Johnny! You never talk! Are you always this quiet? I have no other human contact other than you, but it would be real nice to get a conversation going.”

He turns to you quizzically. “My job is to protect you, no? But if it really bothers you, we may talk.”

“Okay, great!” “...” “...” “How is the weather today?”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” you groan, your forehead in your palms. You raise your head only to see Johnny completely emotionless and stoic. You sigh and start getting up. “Where are you going?” He scurries after you. “We cannot leave until Mr. Yoon is back.”

“Well, Johnny, it’s already six pm and I have dinner to prepare.” You slide on your sneakers and the black windbreaker Jeonghan got for you a few weeks ago. “I’m making additional side dishes, and we’re all out of eggs. You know, things like that.” You grab the keys and your bag when his hand firmly grips your wrist. “Y/N, it’s not safe, and you know it. Don’t risk your life for a few more dishes.” You wriggle your wrist out of his grasp and pat him on the shoulder. “You’ll be with me, right? You’ll do your job just fine.”

He opens his mouth to protest further but you’ve already opened the door at that point. “Those fried eggs aren’t going to cook themselves, Johnny!” You shout from behind your shoulder.

After your eventful grocery shopping, you and Johnny are making your way back to the apartment with a bag occupying each hand. Both of you are walking in comfortable silence when he abruptly stops in his tracks, causing you to follow suit. You cock your head and tension creeps down your back. “Johnny, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer and scans the area. Every second that passes brings you more to the edge, the silence as loud as ever. You wait for him to speak but before you could even have a chance to take a breath, he yanks your body to the ground. One second too late and the shattering glass of the window could have been you.

He curses under his breath as he swiftly pulls out his walkie-talkie. “They’re here, Jeonghan. Send backup now.” You can hear the concern raising in Jeonghan’s voice as he speaks a whirlwind of incoherent words about your safety. “Y/N is right next to me, and we’re both fine for now. Get here ASAP!”

“I’m already nearing the corner!” are his last words before the static takes over. He looks over at you and grabs your shoulders. “We can’t stay behind this car forever. You heard Jeonghan -- he’s about to get here any moment, and I’m sure he has his men with him. Defense Plan is in action, and I know he’s prioritizing you a lot more than other things. You’ll be safe as long as you’re with his people, alright?” All you can do is nod your head quickly, but the rest of your body is paralyzed in fear. His words are almost inaudible, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. He says something to you, but you can’t register anything.

“Y/N, snap out of it! I just saw Jeonghan and several of the other guys down the street. We have to get you to him, okay?” All you do is numbly nod again, and he readies himself to escape from the bullets. “We have to be really quick running along these cars. When I say ‘go,’ you run as quickly as you can while crouching. Ready?” You gulp and shakily respond, “No, but… I have to be.” He gives you a small smile and nods.

“Ready, and…” He waits for the bullets to slow down for a second. “GO!”

You take off from your crouching position with Johnny right behind your heels. The only thing you can register is the ear-splitting gunshots from his gun and wherever the enemies are. A bullet barely whizzes past your arm and you have to do everything you can to not collapse from fatigue and fear. You see Jeonghan more clearly in your line of vision as he’s hunched behind a car firing more bullets.

“Where’s the car, Jeonghan?!” Johnny yells over the noise. Jeonghan throws his head back to signal the car parked behind a store. “Over there, let’s go!”

He grabs your arm and immediately makes a dash for the vehicle as Johnny and Jeonghan’s guard run behind to guard the both of you. However, the moment Johnny turns his head around to check on the both of you…

“Jeonghan, duck!”

He saw it too. He saw the man who he thought he had trusted once upon a time. The man who had butted heads with him but only for the good of the group. The man who was indeed meant to be a leader. Of course he knew all of Jeonghan’s steps. He was always plotting something.

Bang!

“Agh!” He starts crumbling down to his knees, but when you try to support him, Johnny tears you away from your partner. “We have to get you to the car!” You shake your head furiously, almost hysterically as you glance back at your loved one. “We can’t leave him! He’s your boss and my boyfriend!” “His bodyguard will take care of it! In the car, NOW!”

Johnny manages to graze Seungcheol’s dominant hand and makes him drop the weapon with a dull thud on the concrete. “GO!”

Your eyes blur as you’re practically pushed in the back seat where three other men are waiting. You look at the back window and see Jeonghan’s bodyguard struggling to carry him, but he eventually plops his body on the seat.

You rip off a section of your shirt off to help clot his stomach wound. “Stay with me, Jeonghan,” you shakily speak as your trembling hands rip more cloth from your jeans and unsteadily tie the cloth around his abdomen. His labored breaths get heavier with each second and it gets harder to prevent the waterworks from leaking.

“We have to get him to the hospital now! Can you go any faster?!” You address the driver. “I’m trying!” Junhui yells as he swerves violently. “Do you not see me running all of these red lights? We’re almost there!”

As soon as you enter the emergency unit, the gang and you scramble to find doctors nearby with one guy going up to the front desk to explain the situation. They quickly roll out a gurney and gently place his body as they can. As the doctors are scrambling for other accompanying surgeons for his immediate surgery, he looks at you with glassy eyes. You rush to his side and caress his face, his now beautiful features contorted with pain and even paler from blood loss. He swallows and licks his dry lips before breathily asking you something that sent bullets through your own chest.

“I’m falling asleep, Y/N… Can you… hold my hand?”

The brimming tears threaten to spill over as you look down at his pale hand and nod slowly. You take his hand in both of yours and try to transfer your warmth to his cold ones. “You’re such a baby… but you’re my baby,” you try to choke out in between your efforts of holding back your sobs.

“Okay, let’s get him in!” One of the doctors announce, and the team starts rolling him away through the doors. Your hands slowly separate and all you can see is sleep overtaking an angel.

Based on this prompt: Imagine Person A always holds Person B’s hand till Person B falls asleep. One day Person B gets shot and is bleeding pretty bad. When Person A hurries to rescue them, Person B says: “Hold my hand, I am falling asleep.”

#my post #write-svt #seventeen #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #seventeen au #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan headcanons #jeonghan au #mafia au #angel down