Cherry Coke (d. Jones)

cherry coke (d. jones)

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader summary: after an exposing news article is published in rolling stone, daisy and y/n have to figure out how to deal with the world knowing the truth. warnings: swearing, homophobia (not a lot, just mentions and implications for plot reasons only, but nothing explicit), drugs, drinking, s*x (mentioned but not described), mentions of addiction (past and current), daisy wanting to commit h*micide (vengeful wife vibes)

author's note: so this is what i was doing while demotivated to write the chain. I PROMISE I WAS TRYING but this idea also appeared to me and i just. i had to guys. i HAD to. i'm glad you guys have enjoyed the final part of the chain (and by that i mean yelling at me in the comments for making you guys cry. no i am not sorry, this is what i was going for all along) but seriously, i love that you guys loved it. yes it was sad but i'm glad you all felt that with me, because boy was it difficult to write. so here's a happier one! i saw someone say that daisy jones gives iconic lesbian energy and i was like you know what???? i VERY much agree! like, she set so many trends and broke out of the box in so many ways...so like why not by being gay yk?? anyway, this one gets a lil angsty and then supa cute again so enjoy! i love you guys <3

DAISY JONES: You're famous long enough, you start to ignore the rumors. They're always gonna be there―some of 'em will surprise you when they're true, but most of the time they're just plain bullshit. You have to let them roll over you without a second thought. [pause]. But when that Rolling Stone article came out...it scared me. It was like Jonah Berg had stumbled on the gold mine of his career that could ruin mine in a second.

Y/N L/N: [holds up magazine] Inside Daisy Jones' and Y/n L/n's Torrid Love Affair. Quite the headline, huh? At the time, though, it kinda felt something like a death sentence. [pause] Look, the seventies were great, right? The parties, the music, the nightlife...but there were things that society just wasn't ready for yet. And that was what we were.

DAISY JONES: We were both so far deep into our denial then that it just...well, it made me want revenge [laughs]. But Y/n wasn't like that. She had her own things to deal with.

Y/N: Let me just tell you this one thing: never take your best friend on tour.

"You guys sold out this entire place?" Moody said as he looked around the giant stadium.

The band was in the middle of soundcheck in Henderson, but Y/n still found a moment to throw an arm over her childhood best friend's shoulders. "You sound surprised. If I were in a worse mood I might be offended."

Moody chuckled as Y/n wandered away to where Daisy was singing quietly into the main mic. Y/n knocked her foot into Daisy's boot as she passed, giving the girl a quick sly grin. Daisy returned it (not without a cleverly placed eye roll) and went on singing.

After a moment, an arm wrapped around Y/n's waist, pulling her back. She let out a shriek that melted into a laugh as Daisy pulled her back to the mic, saying, "Get back here and sing some harmonies with me!"

Moody watched with a quizzical look as Daisy and Y/n sang into the same microphone to test. Neither one of them could seem to really take it seriously; if their eyes met for even a second they'd laugh through the melody, effectively accomplishing nothing in the way of sound checking.

Eventually Y/n pulled herself away from the mic. She sang backup and harmonies on some of the songs off Aurora, but she never really liked having her own voice front and center. Besides, she was perfectly content to listen to Daisy sing. Daisy had a voice that demanded to be listened to. And Y/n loved it.

Billy passed by, impatiently shoving a guitar in Y/n's hand. "You gonna keep staring at Daisy, or are you gonna play?" he said in passing. Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and shouldered the guitar, still watching Daisy out of the corner of her eye as she plucked out the starting melody to Honeycomb.

Moody went to join the crowd when the first few concertgoers began to file in. From there it was a steady stream of fans, the chatter in the room growing louder and louder until thousands of people stood in the room, cheering and chanting for the band.

Moody had to admit it. He was impressed with what Y/n and the band had created for themselves.

The show began when Daisy walked onstage, red hair aglow in the pink and blue lights. There was glitter on her cheeks and dark makeup smudged around her eyes. And when Y/n walked onstage behind her, Moody noticed that she too had glitter on her face and lipstick smudged around her mouth.

The show was fantastic. When Daisy was at the mic (which, at that time, was always) she was electric, attracting light and eyes wherever she went. Whenever Billy stepped up to sing with her, it was like there was some instant kind of chemistry between them. They looked at each other, sang to each other, and it all made it feel like they were the only two in the room.

But there were times―few and far between, but still times―when Daisy would pick up the mic and go by Y/n as she played the guitar. In those moments, Daisy and Y/n would meet eyes, and the fits of laughter they'd had during soundcheck were nowhere in sight. They were focused on nothing but each other and the music. It seemed to suck all the air of the room in a single breath.

And during a particularly intricate guitar solo, Daisy got down on her knees in front of Y/n and sang up to her, setting the crowd ablaze with cheers and chatter.

Moody met back up with the band after the show, at which time Y/n leapt into his arms and stayed there, holding on and riding around as he greeted the other members of the band.

Daisy passed him last, and he gave her a short nod of his head. "Great show, Daisy."

"Why, thank you," she said in a very Daisy-way. As she passed, she gave a quick squeeze to Y/n's side, never taking her eyes off the girl until she was on the other side of them. It was an almost imperceptible gesture, but he saw.

Now, in that era of rock, shows didn't just stop after the set. The parties that followed were infamous for being the wildest place to be. Drugs and alcohol everywhere you looked, sex swimming in the air. If you wanted to dance a little too close to the devil, that was where you needed to be.

Moody got about as far as the entrance and tapped Y/n on the shoulder. "I'll meet you at your room."

She nodded, then bounced into the party without another word. I'll meet you at your room was code for their regular post-show routine. Y/n would go off to some party with Daisy and get shitfaced while Moody settled into Y/n's hotel room with a book. Around four or five in the morning, she'd stumble into her room, giggly and high, sometimes with Daisy at her side. Then Moody was in charge of sliding off her boots and making sure she sure got in bed and slept on her side. Then, he would go back to his own room for a few hours of well deserved sleep. Sometimes Daisy left, sometimes she didn't. Moody didn't put up much of a fight when it came to her.

Despite the fact that the party was nearly two floors above him, Moody could hear and feel the music through the ceiling. Hotel security never did much, mostly due to the hefty security deposit made by Rod and management. Hotels learned to expect this kind of thing when a rock band as famous as Daisy Jones & The Six came in town.

Meanwhile, Y/n was two floors above, stuck to Daisy's side, greeting everyone she saw and doing any drug she stumbled across. Her glass kept getting refilled, though she wasn't sure quite how. She allowed Daisy to pull her from group to group, keeping themselves latched together by the hand. And, around two in the morning, everyone was too faded to notice them slip out of the front door together.

The knock at Moody's door came at around 4:58. It was one, single sharp rap, then the dull thud of Y/n's head hitting the door. A soft giggle floated through the wood, "Let me in, Michael," she said, and he could practically hear the smile on her face through it.

He opened the door to see her leaned on the door frame, shoes in her hand, makeup smudged, hair messed up, clothing askew. Even then he thought she looked so beautiful, standing there, looking like she had just been blown through a tornado. Even then, she seemed to glow.

"G'morning," she greeted with a nod, stumbling in through the entryway.

Sure enough, she tripped over her own feet and nearly collapsed within a few seconds, sending Moody lunging to catch her around the waist. "Okay," he groaned, "no more of...well, anything for you tonight."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "If I had known you were going to be such a buzzkill, I woulda left you in Pittsburgh."

He guided her to the bed and sat her down. She slumped over, face half squished in the pillow. He held out a hand. "Give me all you got."

Y/n gave him a childish glare before digging in the pocket on her coat and pulling out half a dozen little baggies of pills and powders. She reluctantly smacked them into his hand, shifting further onto the bed to starting getting comfy.

"Thank you," he pocketed the drugs and started unlacing her boots. "You know, one of these days, all the parties are going to catch up to you, and you're either going to regret it, or you'll be passed out in the gutter. Just think about that."

"I've passed out in a gutter before. Not the best experience I've had, but not the worst."

He chuckled, sliding her coat off her arms. As he was pulling the covers over her, Y/n giggled. "I have a secret," she sang in a taunting voice.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, crouching down to her level. "Hit me."

"Nuh-uh. It doesn't work like that."

"Really? How does it work then?"

Y/n paused and thought for a moment. Then, she laughed again like she had just thought of something really dirty. "No!" she squealed. "No, no. I can't tell you. Nuh-uh."

Moody crossed his arms, giving her a pleading look, and then she sighed. "Fine," she relented with a grin, "Come here."

He leaned in, and she beckoned him even closer, until her lips were nearly pressed against his temple. Then, she spoke in a dreamy whisper, "I slept with the It Girl."

Moody pulled away, eyes wide. Y/n just giggled again like she couldn't believe it. She laid down on her side, eyes fluttering closed as she hummed the tune of Tiny Love. "Big eyes, big soul, big heart, no control, but all she got to give is Tiny Love."

She giggled like a maniac, seeming to find humor in those words then, and Moody went unnoticed as he stumbled out of the room, mind reeling at a million miles an hour. Y/n's giddy giggles floated up through the hallway after him, chasing him, until they finally came to a sudden stop.

The next morning she was awoken by Rod knocking at her door, yelling something about the bus leaving in ten. With a heavy pounding in her head, Y/n got up, and found she was unable to recall anything from the night before. Well, all except one thing―a thing that brought a little smile to her face when she recalled it.

After a sluggish bout of packing, the band was off to the next city―Sacramento, they told her. Good. She missed California.

All was normal for the drive. All except Moody. He hardly spoke to her, despite being a very talkative person normally. And when she did address him directly, he responded in as few words as possible. He was angry with her―they had been friends long enough for Y/n to be able to recognize that much. Eventually she gave up on trying to coax him to conversation and sat by Daisy, leaning her head on the girl's shoulder to try and get some sleep.

They made a stop before the hotel at some dinky dive bar to meet with Jonah Berg, a reporter for Rolling Stone. They sat around a table and drank, talking a little about the album and a lot about where they were headed next.

When things began to wind down and the band started to pack up, Jonah noticed Moody standing at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at no one in particular. Something about him looked like a story waiting to happen.

"Are you with the band?" he asked.

"Sure, you could say that."

Jonah lowered his voice. "Then what's got you looking all stormy?"

Moody paused, grappling with his next decision. He could either say it was nothing and tell Jonah Berg to buzz off, which, in all respects, would be the better choice. Or, he could tell the truth. And that, of course, would be disastrous. But people often made the disastrous choice when their feelings were involved.

Then he looked back at Y/n and Daisy, swaying together as Karen played a bluesy tune on the piano, and his heart constricted in his chest.

And then he made his decision.

DAISY: February 12, 1976. The day I almost committed murder.

Y/N: Okay, it wasn't that dramatic.

DAISY: [silence]

Y/N: Okay, maybe it was.

When Daisy walked into sound check that day, an hour and a half late, she did not find the band playing their instruments and practicing songs. Instead they all sat around atop their amps and chairs, with Rod standing at the back. All eyes turned to her the second she walked in. Well, all except Y/n's. She was sitting on the stage, legs tucked to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Karen and Warren sat behind her, each holding a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. And even though she had no idea what was going on, Daisy could only think about how it should be her comforting Y/n before anyone else.

"Are you just going to keep on staring, or am I allowed to know what's going on?"

And then Billy held out The Rolling Stone. "See for yourself."

KAREN: When Y/n read through that article, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. She got all teary and quiet, and then she just shut down. She wouldn't talk to anyone. But Daisy? Daisy got mad. So mad it looked like she was going to burn the world down.

Daisy gripped The Rolling Stone with white knuckles. It had everything. From the time they met, to that night in Henderson. It was like they had ghosts following them everywhere, whispering in Jonah Berg's ear. Daisy didn't dare look at Y/n now, mostly because she couldn't quite be sure yet that this wasn't her own fault.

After she had finished reading, she threw down the article and stomped towards the phone in the corner. "That son of a bitch."

Rod stepped in. "Daisy, hold on―"

"No! If that bastard thinks he can just ruin my career for the sake of his own, then he can hear it from me exactly what kind of hell his life is about to become."

"Look, Daisy, if it's not true, we can call Jonah and work this all out."

Daisy stopped, the receiver floating in her hand, her chest heaving.

"Daisy?" Rod said, "It's not true, is it?"

The band went silent, looking towards Daisy. Her head was dropped, red hair shielding her face from them. Slowly, the hand holding the receiver dropped, and Daisy turned to them, her pale face flushed red. And instead of angry, she just looked hopeless. That was all it took to make them understand.

After a moment of silence, Y/n finally spoke up, "Who would do this?"

"Whoever it is, they know everything," Billy said, "that's a pretty short list."

Graham frowned. "Hang on, you're not saying that one of us did this, are you?"

"No, I'm just saying that it's not like we have a very long suspect list."

"Oh! So we're suspects now!"

"Graham―"

The door opened and the band looked over to see Moody walk in. All at once they fell silent. And as Y/n watched him walk in, it all clicked. A gasp ripped through her throat and she covered her mouth, sickness swirling in her stomach.

Moody seemed to understand too. "Guys, hang on―"

Daisy muttered something under her breath and ditched the phone, stomping towards Moody with her hands curled into fists. Rod and Billy just about leaped off the stage to hold her back. None of them wanted to witness the bloodbath that was sure to occur if Daisy got her hands on Moody.

"Did you do this?" Daisy demanded. Moody stayed silent and she laughed. "Come on, you might as well own up to it now!"

"Guys!" Karen shouted. Daisy turned, ready to scream for everyone to stay the hell out of this, but her words died on her tongue when she saw Y/n run backstage, followed by the deft slamming of a door. Everybody looked back at Daisy. She looked back at Moody, fury blazing in her chest like a dozen white hot suns. She wanted to throttle him and stomp on his head.

But she didn't know where Y/n was going. And she'd rather know that before she killed her best friend.

Daisy turned on her heel, stomping away in the direction that Y/n left. Moody let out a sigh of relief when she disappeared, the door slamming behind her. "Crazy..." he muttered, looking back at the group. He was met with six steely glares, and that's when he realized he was in a room full of people who probably hated him now.

Daisy saw her at the hotel bar, sitting alone. She was so quiet and still that it almost made her want to cry. Y/n was hurt. And worst of all, she was hurt by one of her best friends. That had to sting like hell.

Daisy quietly sidled up beside her, taking the seat next to her. "Whatcha got there?"

"A cherry coke," Y/n responded. Daisy gave her a look and she just shook her head. "Believe me, I'd rather be drinking something that would make me forget. But it's not even noon and I've been thinking about quitting."

That was a lie. The quitting part, not the part about it not being noon yet.

"So that's what it is then, huh?" Daisy asked with a wry grin, but there was something behind it. Something a little sadder. "Just a stupid news article?"

Y/n turned to her immediately, eyes softening. "Daisy," she said softly, "of course not. You know that."

"Well, now so does everybody in the world."

She quieted, nodding and taking a sip from the glass. She sat it back down, sighing. "So, do we..."

Y/n trailed off, her eyes drifting behind Daisy. Daisy turned her head and saw Moody leaving the theater. He stopped in place, looking at them as though he were watching open heart surgery. Y/n murmured something quick to Daisy and let her go, heading in towards Moody.

For a moment he thought she might slap him, and for a moment so did she. But instead she stared him dead in the face with the same eyes he'd seen on every birthday, every holiday, every good memory. And right then, they looked so hardened that he could barely recognize them.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice laced with warning. He gave no response. She continued. "I have spent my entire life trying to figure out who I am―you know that better than anyone. For the first time...I think I did. I think I finally understand."

She glanced back at Daisy, then back to Moody. "And you had to fuck that up for me."

He again said nothing.

"I think it's best if you go home," she said. "If you try and get on that bus tomorrow, I'll have Rod call the cops. Better yet, if I get back to my hotel room tonight and you're there, I might just throw you out the window. And I'm on the tenth floor, so I wouldn't take that chance."

Daisy couldn't hear a word she was saying, but the look of horror on Moody's face told her all she needed to know. And with it she felt some sense of pride.

Y/n walked away, leaving him frozen in place. She held out a hand to Daisy. "Come on."

And Daisy just grinned, taking Y/n's hand and letting her pull her out of her seat and guide her away. She cast one last fiery glare at Moody before he disappeared from sight, immediately melting into a smile while Y/n drew her to the elevators.

He had been her best friend for over two decades. And right then she couldn't bear to be around him.

DAISY: I was ready to burn him at the stake. Unfortunately, my wife is a little more forgiving than I am.

Y/N: He was in our wedding party, on my side behind Karen and Eddie. I knew he felt bad for what he'd done, and he apologized about a million times. He'd been one of my best friends since I was little. It would've been hard to cut him out of my life, and it was hard to keep him in it. But time healed the shallower wounds, society warmed up to some things, and life got easier. I just feel glad that I got to a point in my life where I could find it in myself to forgive him.

Less than twenty minutes later, the pair were in Daisy's hotel room, arms wrapped around each other, each lying comfortably on the spacious king-sized bed. They'd talked for a while, then lapsed into a comfortable silence, where they just held each other. That was all they felt they could do.

But they were happy. As Daisy ran fingers through Y/n's hair, it occurred to her that right then, she felt less complicated than she ever had in the past. It felt like the sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds to shed some life on her life and who she was. So Daisy, finally feeling like she was bathed in spotlight, smiled. "Fuck Rolling Stone."

And Y/n, who felt like decades-old wounds were healing, laughed. "Fuck Rolling Stone."

⋆♱✮♱⋆ 𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙈𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙎𝙊𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙂𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙍𝙔 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙉𝙎 !

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀! new theme, new obsession, new me! i'm really excited about this one. i started and finished ahs coven in a few days and holy LORD i love it. i also go to school in new orleans, so it's definitely rlly special to me :) 𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: madison montgomery x fem!reader 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎: some nsfw headcanons toward the bottom, i'll give a warning before the transition. swearing, use of magic (reader can charmspeak), mentions of death/murder (if you've seen ahs coven you have an idea of what to expect) 𝙍𝙀𝙌𝙐𝙀𝙎𝙏: none, this is totally self indulgent haha!

𖤓 she would initially take interest in you if you were from a rich family—maybe the mob or something, maybe you guys just had money. but if we're going with the mob route, she'd ask sooo many times about the fucked up things you've seen.

"have you ever seen someone get shot?" "uh...no." "ugh, boo. what kind of mob family are you?"

𖤓 she'd kinda do what she did with zoe in the first episode—she'd find you kind of interesting and be like well. guess this is my friend now.

"i'm dangerously low on entertainment. and a roommate. i guess you'll have to do." "...thank you?"

𖤓 the first time you guys would hang out one-on-one would be when madison gets cabin fever and breaks you guys out to get your nails done.

𖤓 it's here that madison gets your whole backstory out of you, including (but not limited to) how you discovered that you were a witch, why you were sent to robicheaux's, and what powers you have.

𖤓 i imagine she'd be fascinated by charmspeak. once you tell her how it works and what it can do, she's already imagining all the things she could do if she had that ability—all the roles she'd have, all the money she'd make, all the things she could get. at that moment you become more than just new entertainment to her. you become useful.

𖤓 you'd go shopping after and she'd be grabbing things left and right. dresses, fur coats, jewelry. if she likes it even a little, she's grabbing it and adding it to the pile.

"you're seriously going to buy all of this?" "nope. you are."

𖤓 she asks you to charmspeak the cashier into giving it all to you guys for free. when you refuse, she's not angry, really, just...surprised? maybe a little confused by you. you have this insane ability to get literally whatever you want, and yet you adhere to a strict moral code? she just doesn't get it.

𖤓 while she doesn't make you use your charmspeak, she does set a small fire to distract the employees long enough to let you guys sneak out with all the stuff.

𖤓 which then, of course, results in a massive fashion show back at robicheaux's. severely disappointed by your wardrobe, madison forces you into some of the clothes from your shopping escapade, and even some of her old things. she's surprisingly generous with the amount of things she'll just give you.

"i like this one." "keep it. i wore it to the teen choice awards two years ago, so i can't be seen in it again." "says who?" "says fashion, y/n. the media. the press. rewearing an outfit is like writing 'i'm poor and irrelevant' on your head in permanent marker." "oh. of course."

𖤓 from then on, you guys are attached at the hip, so much so that nan and queenie take to calling you madison's assistant behind both of your backs.

𖤓 one weekend madison forces you to come to a frat party with her (and i mean forces—you'd been to a couple frat parties at home and hated them, so she has to do some hardcore convincing to get you to go with her).

𖤓 and going to a frat party with madison is definitely a unique experience. from the moment you step in the door, all eyes are on her—madison montgomery, the movie star. and there you are, trailing after her like a lost puppy. it's slightly humiliating, but madison does her best to be accommodating.

𖤓 and by accommodating, i mean she navigates you two to the drink table and starts pouring shots for the pair of you. you both take one, then two, and that's where you stop. madison does not. she takes a third, then a fourth, and then drags you onto the dance floor with her.

𖤓 the dance floor is where a new side of madison comes out. she dances like absolutely no one but you is there, moving around in an energetic but still graceful way. if you're not a big dancer, she'll put her hands on your hips and gently guide you to sway with the beat.

𖤓 she'll definitely get more touchy when she's drunk on the dance floor, holding your hand and moving your hair for you when it gets in your face. your faces will get so close without either of you even realizing, and then you'll burst into laughter for no reason.

𖤓 but then some frat guy would appear and start flirting with madison and she'd kind of float away to dance with him. your mood definitely takes a bit of a hit at that, but you're buzzed enough that you can dance on your own without feeling lonely.

𖤓 you keep an eye on madison as much as you can, but eventually she and the guy disappear. you stop dancing and move to look around, suddenly worried. eventually you find her, stumbling up the stairs with her hand attached to the guy. absolutely not.

𖤓 you catch up to them, stopping madison before she can get to the top of the stairs.

"hey, madi, time to go." "ha, sure. you go ahead, i'll catch up with you." "no, madi, it's time for both of us to go." "look, i get that it's past your fucking bedtime or whatever, but i'm having a good time. what the hell is your problem?"

𖤓 yeah, she doesn't take kindly to being told what to do. but she's too drunk to be going to some random frat guy's room, and you're too drunk and tired to argue with either of them. so you have no other choice. your eyes turn black as you summon your charmspeak.

"let her go, and stop trying to take advantage of drunk girls. work on trying to be a better person, take up volunteering or something. don't be a creep."

𖤓 the results are instantaneous. the guy lets go of madison's hand, muttering something about being too drunk, and heads upstairs alone. that's the first time madison's ever seen your charmspeak in action, and she's fucking furious.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" "i just did you a favor. trust me." "bullshit! you can't tell me what to do." "technically i can, i just don't. come on, let's go."

𖤓 eventually you coax her out of the party and start walking back to robicheaux's—which is made considerably harder by the fact that madison is still very drunk, stumbling in her heels so badly that you have to wrap an arm around her waist to support her.

𖤓 she's silent on the way back, still fuming at you. but as she sobers up, she comes to a realization she wouldn't normally come to: you were right. she was way too drunk to be hooking up with a guy ten minutes after she'd met him.

𖤓 and the next thing she realizes is that you were just looking out for her. nobody ever really had before. madison had been told no very few times in her life—she used to think that was just a testament to her fame, but over time she came to realize that it just came from a lack of people who care about her. and that's when madison comes to the terrifying realization that you care about her.

𖤓 and since she doesn't really know how to say 'thank you," she gives you one of her joints for your trouble when you get back to your room.

𖤓 you share the joint in the backyard, finally having sobered up enough to enjoy a high. you stay quiet, mostly because you're worried she's still mad at you, partially because you're embarrassed that you used your charmspeak on someone, which you swore to yourself you'd never do again unless it was life or death. you were scared that madison was going to cut you off entirely. most people back home did when they realized what you could do. a voice in your head was telling you that madison was never going to speak to you again.

𖤓 so imagine your surprise when she turns and kisses you.

𖤓 you just back out of pure surprise, completely caught off guard. you have a million question but your high only allows you to stutter a huh?

𖤓 madison just laughs a bit, expertly hiding her disappointment at your pulling away. all of her television and film acting serves her well in situations like this.

"what? am i still too drunk for you?" "no, i just...what?"

𖤓 you're just so surprised. did you find madison attractive? undoubtedly yes. did you maybe kind of sort of definitely have feelings for her? also yes. but did you ever think there was a universe in which she'd reciprocate those feelings? absolutely not. so what the fuck was happening?

𖤓 the second time you guys kiss, you're the one who leans in first.

𖤓 that night, you don't do anything more than kiss (despite madison wanting to), but you do end up crashing in madison's bed in your party outfits and makeup. the hangover the next morning sucks ass, but the memories of the night before get you awake pretty quickly.

𖤓 i feel like it wouldn't be too long after that that you guys start dating. madison's never been a huge dater—she's very deeply ingrained in hookup culture, as most of young hollywood is. but when it comes to you, she doesn't think she can settle for the occasional hookup. for one, you guys are literally roommates, so you're together most if not all of the time. for another, her attraction towards you isn't just physical. she likes being around you. she likes talking to you. and because you had a moral compass, hanging around you made her feel like a better person. she hadn't had someone like that in...well, as long as she can remember.

𖤓 there'd never been an official "do you want to be my girlfriend?" type conversation. you would be out somewhere, someone would start messing with you, and madison would get in their face and tell them to leave her girlfriend the fuck alone. they'd leave, and madison would turn to find you with wide eyes and cheeks flushed pink.

"girlfriend?" "duh. is that a problem?" "nope, not at all." "good."

𖤓 i imagine the pda isn't too over the top, but it's definitely there. she'll hold your hand while you're out and about and occasionally lean in to kiss you (she thinks leaving lipstick marks on your cheek is cute). when it's just you guys in your room, she could be all over you depending on her mood. she also loves cuddling, even f she doesn't act like it. whether she wants to be the big or little spoon again depends on her mood. if you're just lying on your bed reading or something, she could just come over and lay her head on your chest if she feels like it, and you do the same to her.

𖤓 when you guys are alone she can literally be such a softie, but she will deny it to the ends of the earth. like if as a joke you threaten to tell everyone how cuddly she is she'll deadass be like "girl. who tf will believe you" and she has a point because like. no one would expect that from her.

𖤓 she's not a big user of pet names, but i can definitely see her calling you "babe/baby."

𖤓 if you have similar styles, your clothes would be her clothes and vice versa. if not, she'll still give you her clothes to wear. she just loves it when you're walking around in her shirt/dress/shorts/etc.

𖤓 also, madison can be an extremely jealous person. if you're out and someone is flirting with you, she will not hesitate to appear out of nowhere and kiss you.

𖤓 or you would make a little game out of it. for example, if a guy was flirting with you at a bar, you'd entertain him for a while, and then when he got around to asking you for your number or asking you out, you'd give an apologetic look and say "sorry, i only date celebrities," and then madison would appear out of nowhere and put an arm around you, giving the guy a smug little smile. you'd laugh about that for a while.

𖤓 you're one of the only people who can see through her "acting" in daily life. she's more confident than the average person for sure, but a good portion of her not giving a shit is acting. you become so attuned to her mannerisms that you start to recognize what's real and what's fake.

𖤓 it would be heavy grumpy x sunshine vibes with you guys. or like...bitch x sweetheart. when everyone else finally finds out you guys are together, they're so surprised. no one can fathom the idea that you, one of the nicest people at robichaux's, are dating the literal bitch supreme.

"y/n, you're...dating her?" "careful nan, you might hurt my feelings."

𖤓 and speaking of everyone "finding out," i imagine you wouldn't do some big reveal where you announce it to everyone one day. you'd both just stop giving a shit about trying to hide your relationship from everyone else.

𖤓 sometimes you really have to tell her to chill tf out...like she'll be threatening someone over next to nothing and you're right behind her apologizing for her.

𖤓 but when it comes to defending you, she will stop at literally nothing to ruin their lives. if they mess with you, they mess with her, and no one messes with her. so by extension, no one messes with you. ever.

𖤓 you'd be the first person she wants to see after the resurrected. you'd see her and run into her arms crying, and she'd say something like "jesus, calm down, i'm fine," but she's tearing up too because she thought she'd never see you again.

𖤓 you're the thing that gets her to feel again after she's brought back. it's around this time that she first tells you she loves you. you wouldn't be doing anything in particular, maybe just lying around your room and watching a movie or something, and she'd realize that she actually feels okay. and then the words would just tumblr out before she can stop them.

"i love you."

𖤓 you'd look at her, and she doesn't see surprise or fear. just a smile.

"i love you too."

𖤓 there wouldn't be a big fuss about it either, you'd both just kinda put it out there and let it be. it's so un-madison to be so chill about it, but she likes it being lowkey. you're hers, she's yours, and that's it. it's one of the only things in her life that's just simple.

𖤓 and if you somehow died? she would do literally anything to resurrect you. there is no universe in which you get to stay dead. not if she has any say in it.

𖤓 before the seven wonders, she’ll pull you aside and tell you, no bullshit, that you have to make it out. you have no choice. neither of you. she won’t even entertain the idea of saying goodbye to you because she won’t fathom the idea of either of you not coming back.

𖤓 at the end of the day, you are the one she wants to be with. whether that's alive or dead, it's you. that's something that's constant in her life.

nsfw

𖤓 in my head, madison is extremely bisexual—she's attracted to anything that's hot. in a similar vein, she never really had an aha moment when she realized she was attracted to girls, it was always just kinda there and she thought, so what? she knew realistically that she kinda had to keep it quiet when she became famous because the media could be ruthless, but she knew who she was pretty early on.

𖤓 to start, madison loves giving hickeys. it ties in with her being a jealous person—what's better than a literal physical mark telling everyone that you're hers? she'll leave them everywhere too. your neck, collarbones, shoulders, breasts, inner thighs.

𖤓 when it comes to men, i feel like she'd lean more towards being bratty/submissive, but when it comes to women? she likes to be in control, for sure. she'd like to give and receive, but she adores watching you come undone on her fingers or her tongue.

𖤓 the best way i can think to describe her is rough but gentle. like, she can be vicious with you but then lean in and whisper "are you okay, baby?" and if you say no, she'll tone it down.

𖤓 she'd also tease the fuck out of you. like, anywhere. during dinner, when you're out, anywhere. she'll put a hand on your thigh and just eeeeeease it higher and higher until your face goes red and you have to push her hand away. she'll literally laugh at you when you stop her.

𖤓 at parties, she'll be all over you while you dance. you'll be pressed against each other, moving in sync, until you wander over to the corner and you can't keep your lips apart anymore. if it's dark enough, she'll even sneak a hand up your dress. she'd be so smug if she could make you come while you're literally on the dance floor.

𖤓 or she'll just drag you to the bathroom and make you sit on the counter so she can eat you out. and then afterwards she'd just fix her lipstick like nothing happened.

𖤓 i feel like if she had an inexperienced partner, she'd be really excited to be the first to do certain things to you, or to figure out what makes you tick. and if you were anxious or nervous about anything, she'd find it soooo cute. she'd be quick to put your worries to rest, though.

"relax, baby. let me take care of you."

𖤓 but sometimes, of course, she'd be more than happy to have to take control—she'd tell you exactly how she likes it and tells you when you're doing a great job. and she is loud. she's got no shame when it comes to that. she doesn't care if people hear her moaning—in fact, sometimes she'll purposely be so loud that she knows everyone can hear her. she doesn't care if people hear how good you make her feel. she also likes seeing the way your face flushes red whenever she does it.

𖤓 she's not exceptionally kinky, but there are deffffinitely a few things she likes. she'd be into breath play and temperature play—as in, she likes choking and sucking on an ice cube before eating you out. while she can be rough, she would never do anything to actually hurt you.

𖤓 we also saw how she was when zoe walked in on her and kyle—she loves the idea of getting caught. she has no clue why, but the idea of someone walking in when she's between your legs gets her so turned on.

𖤓 she'd also give you permission to use your charmspeak on her sometimes. you're hesitant at first, but eventually you indulge her.

𖤓 she'll use a healthy mix of praise and degradation and she likes getting both back. some days you're a good girl and some days you're a slut, there's no in between lmao.

𖤓 she's conflicted when it comes to adding a third person into the mix. on the one hand, the idea of anyone else getting to touch you the way she does makes her furious. on the other hand, she likes the idea of watching/having someone else watch. you'd probably have lots of discussions about it to see what you're both chill with, and it'd probably end with you both flirting with a guy at a party and having a threesome. it's not spectacular, it's not awful, it's just fun.

𖤓 before you, madison never really understood aftercare. mostly because she never got it, so she never expected it. she was used to hooking up and leaving either right after or in the morning, so she's pretty surprised when you ask her if she wants to shower with you after the first time you guys have sex.

𖤓 taking a shower or bath together becomes the norm after you have sex, but if you're too tired you'll just fall asleep tangled up in sheets together.

THIS IS SAUR CUTE OH MY GOD.

you never miss 💗

hi again! so sorry my last request didn't work out ― but i do happen to have another :)

maybe a rivals to lovers with jim halpert? very sarcastic rivals, of course lol. thank you so much! and congrats again <3

𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥.

pairings ; jim halpert x gn!reader

warnings ; collegues, rivals to lovers, sarcasm and teasing the whole way through, make out part - not sexual.

word count ; 814

additional notes ; loved this idea, thank you my love!

“can we move onto the topic of phyllis losing five of her clients this past year? considering it’s phyllis, that leaves her with little to no clients left,” jim looked up from his yogurt at dwight’s words. lunchtime in the office was never boring despite the eye-scraping job it was.

oscar and pam’s prior conversation about the new release of meryl streep’s ‘the devil wear’s prada’ is cut short as the whole room tunes in. glancing at phyllis, jim notices her dejected slump of shoulders before she replies, “that’s not fair dwight, there’s a reason i’ve told michael why that happened.”

the group watch them like a tennis match, heads swinging back and forth as dwight knowingly jabs another response, “is it because your incompetent?” with a beat, dwight glances amongst the row of tables – prideful in his quick wit as he continues, “because you’re incompetent phyllis.”

jim perks up in his seat, desperate to derive the conversation before phyllis gets bob vance and causes dwight to threaten violence with his office-hidden samarai sword ( that he always assures he’s a professional at handling ), “speaking of loss of clients…”

you look up from your lunch and to jim who sits beside you, groaning knowingy while the office atmosphere changes from tension to more playful. he smirks at you, “y/n and i had a competition of new clients, and guess who won?” he leans back in his seat proudly.

“only because you offered them much more than you needed to, where’s the profit, halpert?” you quip back, both of you unaware of the exchanged glances from everyone but dwight around the room who just fills his expression with disgust.

“you were hardly offering them anything, i wouldn’t have joined if i was a client myself if you were the one pitching to me,” you gasp with a choked laugh at his words – while dwights one-liners were incredibly offensive and sad-inducing aimed towards phyllis, both of you knew the words between each other were less hurtful and more teasing.

totally not flirting.

“you two make me sick, why don’t you go into the printer room and make out so you can get it over with and we don’t have to watch this insufferable tension?” you both turn to dwight as he stands, jim’s cheeks turning a shade pinker while your jaw hits the ground, “us? make out?”

“don’t pretend, jim,” dwight states, adjusting the belt on his trousers before trudging out of the office, leaving silence behind while you are both unsure what to do.

both of you laugh, nervously more than anything, and only convincing each other of the denial of something being there while everyone nods knowingly, the pining going on for far too long and the bets ongoing as they waited on the ‘we’re together’ statement.

you found yourself in that very printer room later on, a large sum of papers to print in the queue while you press a load of buttons upon a printer in hopes it works without needing to call pam over.

the door clicks and your head snaps round to the tall, scruffy-haired man who lips press into a thin-line smile, which you return before awkwardly turning back to the whirring machine. jim walks to another printer, the one directly beside yours and you pretend you can’t see the continuous glances.

“so that was crazy, right?” jim starts before letting out a nervous huff. “what?” you faux, pretending you’re too immersed in the printing world to care – but your head is dizzy with the prior statements your colleague made. you weren’t sure how much longer you could deny your attraction for jim.

“what dwight said. about us?” you force a laugh out in response, agreeing with his statement but pretending the ache in your heart is apparent and pushing against your chest. “well, do you want to just forget about it?”

you didn’t, but asking the question meant it looked like you did. you could both move onto your normal selves – making teasing and totally not flirtatious quips to each other and hidden tension.

he doesn’t answer, the only sound is the buttons beeping with each press of your fingertip, “jim?” you ask again into the quiet cramped room. again, no reply. you furrow your eyebrows, turning your head to check on him but he’s facing you, eyes which fall on your eyes quickly change to your lips.

before you knew it, your fingers were pulling the strands of hair at the nape of his neck while jim had you pressed against the printer, leaving tingling traces against your lips each kiss. he doesn’t stop, and you don’t want him to – pressing closer to him and allowing him to lean down so his arms can wrap around your back, kisses moving to your neck affectionately.

“i’ll take that as a no.”

you can’t believe dwight was right.

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beneath the ice (peter prior)

pairing: peter prior x fem!reader

summary: sometimes following a lead can be a deadly pursuit with unforseen circumstances. especially in ennis.

wc: 4k

warnings: situations of peril (description of a near drowning), swearing, blood, hospitals, peter and kayla r separated and getting a divorce sorryyy, kissing/making out

author's note: HI SORRY I DISAPPEARED FOR FOREVER HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU. i started college last fall so i guess i just got caught up in the swing of things and really lost my game, but here i am! can't promise i won't disappear again as i still do have to finish up the semester (and i may be writing an original novel *winky face*) but i just HAD to come on here and rant because the true detective brainrot is real guys. so so real. i was literally looking for content after the first ep and i was like wait...it doesn't even exist yet which is SO CRAZY because usually i write for/obsess over characters with so much content already out there so like. i guess i gotta make the content this time??? let me know if you want more peter fics because the brainrot is REALLLL. okay, love you! hope you enjoy!

"This is a bad idea."

"Yeah, probably."

Y/N had had it up to here with Peter's complaints. They stood at the edge of the frozen lake, their flashlights beaming over the glassy surface. It was around three o'clock, the sixth day of dark. Y/N still didn't feel fully adjusted to the constant darkness, especially with the case of the Tsalal station in full force. Sleep was a rare commodity nowadays, and she usually relied on that sleep to keep her sense of night and day in check. She wasn't getting any of that now.

"We're not going to be able to see anything from here," she muttered, squinting out at the lake. She took a tentative step off the snowy edge and tested the ice, putting half her weight on it to see if it would hold.

Peter saw what she was thinking before she did it, and he was going to do his damned best not to let it happen. "You're not going out there."

Y/N looked back at him. "I used to be a dancer, remember? I'm light on my feet."

"You were a tap dancer."

"Same difference."

She put one foot on the ice, taking a step forward. There was a little creaking sound as the ice adjusted to her weight, but it held. Peter caught her arm before she could take another. "Y/N."

She pursed her lips. "You can come with me if you want, but it might only hold one of us. Your choice."

"We'll call someone. We'll call Danvers, or—"

"We're here now. We might as well get out there and start looking."

He didn't like this idea. He did not like this plan. But Y/N had, seemingly, set on it. There wasn't much he could do now to stop her. He couldn't beat her, and joining her would probably make things worse. All he could do now was watch her. "Stay close to the edge."

Y/N grinned. "I knew you'd come around."

She turned and aimed her beam of light at the glassy ice, taking a few, slow steps forward. She could see straight through the glass now, to the rocky bottom below. If her lead was right...something would be here. Awena Lake. Something was here.

She traversed farther and farther onto the frozen surface, the wind whipping her hair around her face. She was far. Too far, in Peter's opinion. He was about to call out to her when suddenly she stopped, staring down at a place in the ice.

What he didn't know was that she was staring down at a face.

She whispered something her voice quiet, terrified. Then, a scream. Y/N fell to her knees, punching at the ice, trying to break through.

"Y/N!"

She heard Peter calling her name, but she could only focus on breaking through that ice. Punched and punched and punched until her knuckles split and suddenly the ice below her was getting painted with blood every time she brought a fist down. She was almost in a trance, beating away at the solid glacial matter that just wouldn't break.

But then, of course, it did.

It happened so quick that Peter couldn't missed it if he blinked at the wrong moment. One second he was taking slow, cautious steps onto the ice, heading to get Y/N before she did something really stupid. The next second there was a sound like breaking plaster and a splash, and Y/N disappeared under the ice.

She felt hands grasping at her, trying to pull her down. And a voice—there was definitely a voice. She couldn't quite make it out. She opened her mouth to scream back, and as the cold water rushed into her lungs, her lips formed one question: what happened to you?

Her vision went black before she got an answer.

Music. The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the music. And the fact that she was warm, when the last thing she remembered being was really f-cking cold. Her eyelids stuck together as she slowly blinked open, the dim lighting of the hospital room slowly coming into focus. She tried to flex her fingers and found them stiff as ice (no pun intended). She saw the white bandage wrapped around her hands, purple bruises around her wrist and near the tips of her fingers. Jesus. She'd done some damage on that ice.

The fucking music. It was some oldie—70s, probably. It was playing softly from the corner, and she turned her stiff neck to see Peter slumped in a chair, staring down at his phone. What a loser. She cleared her throat to test her voice.

"If you're on TikTok right now, I'll fucking kill you."

Peter jumped at the sudden sound, his phone clattering to the ground. Y/N laughed, though it quickly turned into a wheezy cough. She sat up, a bandaged hand covering her mouth as she continued to choke. Peter rushed to her side, filling up a paper cup with the water pitcher on the bedside table. He handed it to her and she waited for the coughs to dissipate a bit before taking a gulp of the cold water. She sucked in a breath and found her ribs fighting back against the stretch. Everything was sore. Which, she reminded herself, was her own fault.

"Do you want me to call the doctor?" he asked, dragging the chair closer to sit beside her.

Y/N shook her head. "Nah. M'fine."

He gave her a look, and she clarified, "As fine as I can be."

Peter looked like he wanted to say something for a moment, but held it back. Y/N noticed a manila file on the other side of her and raised an eyebrow, reaching for it. Even leaning over caused her ribs to scream back in pain, but the snatched the folder anyway, flipping it open to see her own medical chart. "Hypothermia, boxer's fracture in both hands, ventricular fibrillation...Jesus. Okay, so I did some damage. My bad."

"What the fuck, Y/N?"

She looked up from her file. Peter had a look on his face she couldn't quite parse. Anger? Pity? Whatever it was, it was heightened by the fact that his under eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them. He stood up, pacing a bit. "Can you stop treating this like it's some fucking joke? You fell through the ice. I had to call Danvers and tell her you almost got yourself killed following some shit lead. You know what she said?"

Y/N stayed silent, fearing that whatever she said would make things worse.

"She asked me why the fuck I didn't stop you."

Y/N wanted to bite back, to yell that it wasn't his responsibility to tell her what to do and what not to do. But, she reminded herself, he probably knew that. It didn't matter. If Danvers said he should've stopped her, he should've stopped her. At least, that's probably how it went in his mind.

She said nothing. Eventually Peter shook his head, muttering something under his breath before going back on his phone. Y/N stared at her own hands, dragging her finger over a little spot of blood that had begun to peek through it. She tried to shift herself a bit and a pain shot through her ankle. She grimaced, hissing lightly at the sting. She pulled her blanket aside and looked down, her stomach twisting when she saw a purple bruise surrounding her right ankle. Almost like a hand.

"Geez. What, did you drag me out by my ankles?" she said to Peter.

"What?" he replied, not looking up, "no, I grabbed your hand."

"Then what the hell is that?"

She pointed, and Peter's eyes followed where she was indicating. "Maybe you kicked something," he offered, "you were trying to swim back up to the surface."

Y/N frowned, something nagging in the back of her mind. "No I wasn't."

"Yes, you did. I saw you."

"No, I was dragged."

Peter shook his head, as if trying to make the words coming out of her mouth form a logical sentence. "What?"

The memory came flooding back to Y/N. The moment just before she started punching at the ice. The face. "I saw her."

"Saw who?"

"Annie."

Peter stilled, his jaw loosening ever so slightly. He looked at Y/N, and for a moment he wondered if the hypothermia had gotten to her brain. "What?"

"Annie K. I saw her under the ice, so I tried to go down and get her."

"Y/N, Annie's-"

"She's fucking dead, I know," she snapped. "But I saw her, alright? I wouldn't start punching solid ice for nothing."

And now Peter was left in a conundrum. On the one hand, Y/N wouldn't lie about something like this. He trusted her that far at the very least. But what she was saying she saw...that went beyond reasonable explanation. He looked at her hands, remembering how they looked just after he pulled her out of the ice. Raw and bloody and bruised. He saw the way she was punching at that ice. It was desperate. No logical person would fuck up their hands like that for a lie. She was really reaching for something. For someone, if that's what she says.

There was still one issue: Danvers wouldn't hear it. They saw how far Trooper Navarro got when she tried to bring Annie's name into the equation. Zero tolerance. They couldn't expect any more grace from the chief.

"You don't have to believe me-"

"I do, Y/N. I do."

She was a little surprised at that. She'd expected Peter to tell her she was crazy. Nevertheless, she could take his belief and run with it. "Then help me," she said, her voice stern. "Follow this lead with me as far as it can go. We don't have to tell Danvers, and if it leads nowhere it leads nowhere. Just don't make me do it on my own."

Conundrum #2: Does he stay on the sidelines or jump through that ice with her?

Fuck it. It's gonna be cold either way.

"Fine."

Y/N's lips turned up into a small smile. Before she could respond, though, one of their co-workers, Lissy, popped her head in the door. "Hey, Prior. You're relieved of L/N duty."

Y/N sat up in bed, giving Peter a look. "L/N duty?"

He gave a sheepish shrug. "Would it help if I said I volunteered?"

"Get out of here. Smartass."

Danvers came eventually to swear at her and ask what the hell she'd been thinking. She gave Danvers the real, honest answer, which was that she wasn't. She'd probably take that better than a lie.

But eventually, of course, she had to.

"And what the hell made you start punchin' that ice?"

Y/N paused. "I thought I saw something, but it was—it wasn't—"

"Well, what?" Danvers snapped. "What was it? Wasn't it?"

"It was nothing, okay? It was a false lead."

That was hard to say, even if it wasn't true.

The highlight of the whole situation was that, at the very least, Y/N's circadian rhythm had gone back to somewhat normal. She looked over files until around eleven o'clock at night when she couldn't keep her eyes open for more than ten seconds at a time. Trying to sleep was a battle for a moment, what with the sore everything and the hands that could barely grasp at the blankets to pull them up to her chin. But eventually exhaustion won out, and she fell asleep to the gentle hum of the hospital's heating system.

And though she never really had in her life, she dreamed.

She dreamed that she was back under the ice, the rocks beneath her feet, crystal clear water swallowing her hole. And there was Annie, beckoning her further and further out. She swam for her until her muscles burned. The further out Annie took her, the darker the water got, and the colder and colder she felt. It got so dark and so cold that she couldn't see Annie at all. It was only when she squinted that she could see her hands in front of her face, and she watched in horror as frost crept over her skin and nipped at her blood.

When Y/N jolted awake, it took her embarrassingly long to realize she was standing on the roof of the hospital. Her bare feet were buried in the snow, the tips of her toes hanging over the edge, five stories above Ennis. A yelp tore out of her mouth before she could stop it, her balance wavering for a single, terrifying moment.

She stepped down from the ledge as soon as she got her bearings, the wind blowing right through her hospital gown and stinging her skin. She stumbled back into the hospital, arms wrapped around herself as she tried to recover from the intense cold, all the while wondering how the hell she got up there.

There was seemingly only one answer: she brought me there.

Peter's kitchen table was littered with crime scene photos. Darwin toddled on the floor, playing with his stuffed elephant, while Peter brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Y/N was so focused that she didn’t notice as Darwin stood and reached his little hand up, grasping for the photos. His fingertips found purchase and he started to pull a particularly bloody photo off the table. Y/N snatched it out of his grasp just before he could be scarred for life and Darwin let out a little giggle.

“Close call, little man,” she said, “that would’ve taken a lot of therapy to unsee.”

Darwin stuck his tongue out at her. She stuck hers out back.

“Kayla should be on her way to come get him. She's trying to beat the storm,” Peter said, scooping Darwin up and carrying him safely away from the photos. They sat down between the couch and the fireplace, and Y/N, suddenly craving a break from the blood and gore, got up to go meet them.

"You guys doing okay?" she asked as she sat cross-legged beside Darwin. "You and Kayla?"

She could tell immediately that she hit a nerve. Peter's eyes darted away from Darwin instantly, his gaze instead setting on the fire. He didn't answer for a moment, and for a moment Y/N thought maybe he was acting like he didn't hear her. "We, uh...we separated."

Y/N frowned. "What?"

"Two months ago. Maybe two and a half."

He picked up the fire poker and stoked the flames—not because they needed to be, but because if he didn't have something to do with his hands he'd go crazy.

Y/N didn't quite know what to say. She remembered when her parents separated, but she was too little to do much about it. Too young to think about comforting them.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Peter just shook his head and shrugged like it was no big deal. "It was coming eventually. We just finally owned up to it."

"Still. It sucks."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment. Darwin handed the elephant over to Y/N to make way for his sudden interest in picking out the fuzzies in the carpet.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm becoming increasingly concerned that my ice plunge gave me walking pneumonia."

That didn't make it better, but it did get him to laugh.

They played with Darwin and generally avoided the topic of work until there was a knock at the door. A hush seemed to fall over them, reality setting back in. Peter got up, taking Darwin with him, and Y/N went back to the kitchen table. She made herself busy (or, at the very least, she made herself look busy) with files.

Peter opened the door with Darwin in one arm, Darwin's weekend backpack in the other. Kayla stood there on the other side. She grinned and cooed as she took Darwin, but the grin faded when it became clear that she had to interact with Peter.

Look at the files, Y/N. What's happening at the door is none of your business.

Ugh, but eavesdropping would be so fun.

"What's she doing here?" she heard Kayla say. Both she and Peter looked over to where Y/N was sitting.

Well, at least I don't have to eavesdrop.

Y/N looked up, raising an awkward hand in greeting. "Hi Kayla."

"Hi Y/N," Kayla replied. She wasn't cold, but it was clear that Y/N wasn't her favorite person in the world.

Peter said something about work, but Y/N couldn't decipher it. She went back to work, trying to block out the distant sounds of what seemed to be a heated conversation. Eventually the door closed (not slammed, luckily) and Y/N looked up. Peter stared at the wooden door for a few seconds after it had closed, like he thought it might open again. Y/N rushed to look away as he finally turned and headed in her direction. She tried not to shift as he took a seat on the side of the table closest to her, taking his own stack of files and beginning to sort through them.

After a moment, she spoke. "Aaaaare we gonna talk about that?"

"No we are not."

"Got it, got it."

They studied crime scenes. They looked at the facts. They asked a lot of wrong questions and maybe a few right ones. They got so deep into the case of the Tsalal men that they didn't realize when the clock struck three in the morning just as Peter was about to brew a new pot of coffee.

"Huh," was all Y/N could manage to say when she saw the time.

"Huh," Peter agreed.

She looked outside, which at this time of night was a greyish blur of falling snow moving at too many miles per hour. This was the type of storm Y/N's mother told her to watch out for. People who drove out in these either ended up wrecked or freezing to death before they made it home. "Mind if I stay the night?"

Peter nodded. "'Course."

Ten minutes later, Y/N was curled on the couch with a down comforter draped over her to block out the chill (with the help of three layers of clothes and another blanket on top). The lights were out and all she could hear was the sound of whistling wind as she drifted off to sleep.

And for the second time in years, she dreamed.

She was back under that water, cold seeping into her bones. She saw the surface just a few feet above her head, close enough to touch. She reached up, but before her frozen fingers could make contact with the frozen sheet of ice she could use to pull herself up, a hand seized her ankle and dragged her down. She screamed, but only bubbles escaped her mouth, the sound absorbed by the freezing waters that enveloped her. She rushed to suck in a breath and the water flooded in to meet her screaming lungs.

She was dying.

She looked down at the one who was dragging her, and saw someone she knew to be dead.

"Y/N..."

"Annie?" Y/N said. More bubbles. Annie just looked at her, and somehow she knew: Death was coming.

"Y/N!"

Peter's hand landed roughly on her shoulder, enough to shake her out of the dream and make her realize that she was standing outside in the swirling snow, which was getting worse by the second. She turned, and their faces were so close that their matching frozen, red noses were inches away from touching. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Y/N made no reply, trekking back towards the house as quickly as her bare feet could take her. Annie’s eyes were still flashing across her mind every few seconds, as if trying to come back to the surface and consume her again. She wouldn’t let that happen.

As soon as the door shut behind her, the wind howling and doing its best to pry it back open again, she collapsed against it, trying to stave off cold and paranoid visions. She vaguely heard Peter mutter No, come here, as he pulled her up from the floor and guided her to the fireplace, which he promptly lit. He draped a blanket around her, then two, then three. She must’ve looked like a floating head with all the fabric covering her from the shoulders down as she curled on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest. He sat down beside her after he was satisfied she had enough to warm her up. She was shivering slightly, but the horrified look in her eyes made him wonder if that was totally from the cold. He didn’t ask. He sat, staring straight at the fire with her. That was all he could do.

“It was Annie,” Y/N said finally, her voice hoarse. “She took me out there.”

Peter didn’t respond—he was sure the explanation she would give, if she gave any, would go entirely over his head.

Y/N swallowed hard before continuing. “She’s involved in all this. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But something about Annie is still alive. Because what happened to her? That’s what happens when men get angry. But when women get angry? You end up out in the snow in the middle of the night with no idea how you got there.”

Silence.

“She’s angry. We just have to figure out why.”

Peter looked at her, color starting to bloom in her previously purple lips. She stared intently ahead as she talked, almost as if she were in a trance. When Peter reached out and took a lock of her hair gently between his fingers, she didn’t flinch. She glanced over at him, her eyes illuminated by the fire he’d set.

“Your hair froze,” was his only explanation.

Y/N looked down and saw that he was right. Little ice crystals had formed in patches of her hair. She wondered how long she’d been out there in the cold.

She wasn’t sure who leaned in first, or when the images of Annie disappeared from her mind, but in an instant Peter’s lips were on hers, and all visions of Annie floated away, replaced only by the feeling of his lips and hands.

It was only a moment before he pulled away, his eyes shut in a way that suggested he fucked up. For the second time in a week she’d nearly found herself in a life-threatening situation, and here he was playing with her hair and kissing her like a besotted middle schooler. She would be mad—she had to be.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Y/N said, pulling him back to her and kissing him again.

That was all the okay Peter needed. He pulled her to him again, this time a bit rougher, but still careful not to accidentally push any blankets off her. It was Y/N who eventually shed them, pulling him onto the couch with her. It was still too cold inside for either of them to remove any more layers they already had on (which they both found extremely unfortunate), but that didn’t stop Y/N from crawling atop him and straddling his waist to better kiss him.

After what felt like hours (but was probably only twenty minutes), they wound up that way, with Y/N laying her head on Peter’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her to hold him to her. Her heart rate was just starting to slow down when Peter spoke.

“You know I’ll help you see this through, right?” 

Y/N looked up at him. “Yeah.”

He ran a soft hand through her hair and she laid back down.

“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, probably.”

But, funnily enough, neither of them cared.

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i love reading my own writing this bitch would be my favorite writer if he ever managed to write