HARPER
Her protectiveness is a volatile thing, cool and controlled but pointed, dangerous. It curls around him like a violet shawl, dark and shadowed, never touching him in any way that might make him think he is at fault. It is a blanket to hide under when the storm rages too loud outside your window, and he holds tight to the edges to keep it close. Nobody has ever tried to protect him before, and the chance to simply let go and have someone else handle things leaves him stupefied.
Her pleading is a distant voice in the belly of the storm, but her hands are warm, chasing away the chill of the beach. He focuses on that instead. It takes time to pry his hand away from his face, revealing a broken expression with red splotches high on his cheeks and wet eyes. The terror that winds tighter and tighter in his chest loosens abruptly at the expression he sees on her face. It’s not often he looks at Maeve and sees her as anything more or less than the woman he loves, but here and now he sees her and thinks my Queen.
Maeve’s intensity should be off-putting. He should defend Phoebe, explain that she means no harm, but right now he doesn’t have the energy. Harper shamefully wants to float in the feeling of her vindictiveness, her willingness to tear the world apart not just for Jude but for him. “Thank you,” he whispers, touching their foreheads together, lingering so close that his tears grace her own cheeks as they fall. But they slow beneath her words and the touch of her hands, the constricting coil unwinding to let him breathe again.
“I put her and Jude in our old house, so they would be close. But I told her I can’t promise her anything more than co-parenting.” And though he’d proposed ideas for that, it feels wrong to talk about. He says it only to assure Maeve that he isn’t going anywhere - that she still has his heart. “It’s going to be so hard Maeve,” his voice cracks with the grief he already feels for the lifestyle they’d created, selfishly mourning having his little family all under one roof and in easy reach.
Her pleading is a distant voice in the belly of the storm, but her hands are warm, chasing away the chill of the beach. He focuses on that instead. It takes time to pry his hand away from his face, revealing a broken expression with red splotches high on his cheeks and wet eyes. The terror that winds tighter and tighter in his chest loosens abruptly at the expression he sees on her face. It’s not often he looks at Maeve and sees her as anything more or less than the woman he loves, but here and now he sees her and thinks my Queen.
Maeve’s intensity should be off-putting. He should defend Phoebe, explain that she means no harm, but right now he doesn’t have the energy. Harper shamefully wants to float in the feeling of her vindictiveness, her willingness to tear the world apart not just for Jude but for him. “Thank you,” he whispers, touching their foreheads together, lingering so close that his tears grace her own cheeks as they fall. But they slow beneath her words and the touch of her hands, the constricting coil unwinding to let him breathe again.
“I put her and Jude in our old house, so they would be close. But I told her I can’t promise her anything more than co-parenting.” And though he’d proposed ideas for that, it feels wrong to talk about. He says it only to assure Maeve that he isn’t going anywhere - that she still has his heart. “It’s going to be so hard Maeve,” his voice cracks with the grief he already feels for the lifestyle they’d created, selfishly mourning having his little family all under one roof and in easy reach.
this is your ocean, an ocean of night
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
