#anyway today I mostly feel the same as yesterday except more sick...

[new-tella-us]

Komahina Oneshot

Komahina ft. Trans Hajime. Another Tumblr inspired post. The tumblr account is catboymoments. Gotta give credit where credit is due.

If you didn't know that this is very gay and trans then idk how you got here but I'm happy to have ya.

But seriously, this has some pretty big trigger warnings

- Gender Dysphoria

- Complicated pregnancy

- Mentions of abortion

-PTSD

Anyways Onto the Oneshot!

Wow! I'm Pregnant! We're gunna have a happy family! Except...I'm a guy.

I feel horrible... This has been going on for about three days now. Mornings are the worst. I can't tell why. It's starting to worry Nagito and it's not like I can fake it, I tried. You can't fake puking. I can at least fake being somewhat lively.

...I need to get up. Need to get moving. Need to- Nevermind! I need to puke! Fuck... This feels disgusting. Maybe I should try and diagnose myself, or have Mikan help me. I felt a pat on my back; I knew it was Nagito but, I couldn't look at him while puking my guts out. When I finally finished desecrating the poor toilet I got up. I was sweating, pale and covered in whatever I managed to puke up on an empty stomach. I flushed the toilet and washed my face.

Nagito gave me a worried look. What was once an 'are you okay?' question turned into, "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm better," I responded. There wasn't much else to say, "I'll get this checked out soon, I'll just give it another day or two."

Nagito face turned stern, "Hajime, you need to get this thing checked out today! This has gone on for too long." He went out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone, "I'm calling Tsumiki-chan."

"Nonono! It's okay Nagito! I'll do it tomorrow! I can handle this myself!" I responded, a bit panicked. I never liked getting help from others, it didn't feel right to bother someone over something I can do myself.

"You said that yesterday. I'm calling Tsumiki-chan." He said in a more stern voice. I couldn't respond, there was no point in arguing with him when he's like this, plus; he's right. He made the call. I didn't hear Mikan's side of the call but, from what I can hear on Nagito's side, they made a time, 1 pm. He hung up and looked back at me, his glaze softened.

"Let's get you something to eat, okay?"

"Yeah," He smiles softly and gave me a small kiss on the forehead before leading me out of the house. But, while we were walking towards the cafeteria, a little voice told me something.

You know exactly what's happening.

I shook the thought away.

...

Breakfast was, mostly, fine. Only going to the bathroom once! Now, I have some time before I have to talk to Mikan. Nagito insists that I rest but I've gotten bored of doing that. I decided to just walk around the island. It was a really hot day and I was getting tired so, I couldn't walk for long. Huh, that never happens, I usually have more stamina than that... Maybe Nagito was right. Well, Nagito is usually right. Maybe I should just listen to Nagito more.

I started walking back, only taking a break to puke near a tree. Now, I'm really sweating, shaking too. I felt light-headed. Then, an unexpected helper appeared. She put my arm on her shoulder, behind her neck, her other hand supported me from my side. I didn't look up, I didn't need to. Her light orange kimono with scattered pink cherry blossoms gave away who she was.

"Hey Saionji..."

"Didn't listen to Komaeda again?" She knew it...

"Nope." I responded with as much satire I could muster.

"You're an idiot."

"Yup" Indeed I was but I could think about that a little bit more when my head wasn't spinning like crazy. Hiyoko helped me back to my cottage before leaving me to enter it myself. I opened the door and both Nagito and Mikan were sitting on the couch. I guess she came early.

"Hey guys, it seems like you were both waiting for me. Sorry about that."

"I-It's fine Hinata-san. So tell me a-about your condition. I've only seen g-glimpses of it" Mikan said.

So I explained. The morning sickness, the lack of energy and stamina. The fact that I can't even walk around the island without becoming pale and out of breath. Mikan thought about it and started checking her tablet. I assumed that she was looking up what this could mean before her eyes widen on something.

"I-I....I never knew this. Umm...I'll b-be right back." She seemed nervous as se got up and practically ran out of the house.

You know where she's going, you know what she's getting

There's that voice is again. I have no time for hallucinations or weird creepy messages.

...

Mikan returned after a few minutes with a little rectangular box in her hand.

"Welcome back, Tsumiki-chan. Now, are you going to explain why you suddenly freaked out like that and left?" Nagito said.

Mikan's gaze fell on me. Her look was almost unreadable. It's very unlike her.

"Hinata-san. Are you trans?" She asked bluntly.

"Wh-What?! What made you ask that??" I panicked. How did she know? How did she guess??

She turned her tablet to me; my profile was on it as was everyone else's. She pressed one of those special info buttons and a symbol appeared next to my profile picture.

The Female Sex Symbol...

Silence...

...Shit...

"I'm surprised that you didn't realize that this button exists. After all the creator of these tablets had a member who's entire case was solved because their sex was revealed." Mikan said. She always did have more confidence when she spoke facts. I didn't have anything to say, neither did Nagito. Mikan handed me the box; it was a pregnancy test.

"I w-won't ask. That's your b-business..." Her timidity returned. No, she won't ask because she'll get her answer depending on what I say or do. I could hand her back the test. I could lie and say I'm a virgin but, that wouldn't help me...

I got up and went to the bathroom...

...

......

...Are...Are you serious...? The test came back positive?! I...don't know how to feel about this... At least I know what's happening to me and probably why it's hitting me so hard.

...I feel too sick for this.

You knew this was coming.

'Izuru...not now. Please.'

You know you can't fully get rid of her.

'Who are you talking about?'

As if to answer my question, he materialized but not as himself. He materialized as a young girl. A girl that looks a lot like me.

'Fuck off, Izuru. You know that's not me...'

Is it not? It's who you once were.

'That was never me! She was someone else. Just a person of the past.'

And that way of thinking is what got you here. It's time for you to face the facts. You may be a boy but, you're not male. You forgetting that is why that test is positive. You took a chance, you were risky and here you are.

'We're done here.'

I was steaming. I couldn't listen to another word that fell out of that man's mouth. I needed to calm down. I took some deep breaths and left the bathroom. Mikan left but, Nagito was still there. I wasn't concerned with him knowing that I was trans, he already knew; he would have to know since he's...

"So, what happened? What did she give you? Are you okay?" he asked but, I had a feeling that he knew. I didn't want the mood to be sour. Having kids is supposed to be a good thing so, I wanted to lighten the mood with a pun.

"Well, I guess I should be invisible."

"...What? What do you mean?" He looked puzzled.

I looked at the pregnancy test. "Well, I'm a trans-parent." (Yes, I took this pun from the same tumblr user)

He looked at me, still puzzled, for a few minutes before he realized.

"...oh. Oh OH! You don't mean-" He looked happy, so happy. He gave me a hug, "Oh my god! I've always wanted to be a dad!"

He has? Great... Personally, I never wanted kids. I used to but, secondary school... changed me and showed me that really, I don't. But I can't just make a split second decision, he seem so happy...

"Yeah, but can we discuss this a bit more? I have my issues that I need to address."

His smile faded a bit "Uh sure"

We both sat on the bed of our room. I didn't know what to say. I don't know if I want to do this but, it would feel wrong just to abort with no conversation.

"So umm... Nagito. I...I don't know if I'm- we're ready to have kids. I guess I'm kind of worried?"

Tell him the actual reason, Hajime.

"I don't know what effect this might have on me and I'm scared that I might not be a great dad..."

Hajime...

"Is that the reason?" Nagito asked.

"...Yeah"

If you don't tell him, I will.

"..." I wasn't going to say anything but, Izuru kept on his threat. I lost control of my body.

"He has gender dysphoria" Izuru said, "So this pregnancy is reminding him of his uncertainty. The place he used to live in was not the most accepting of transgendered people"

Nagito fell silent, he was stunned. Damn it Izuru... did you have to be so blunt? I got control of my body back, I couldn't even look at Nagito, I felt so ashamed, I was putting my anxieties above a life. It felt...wrong. Or is it a life? It's a clump of cells but, it can become a life. I've been around too many mixed influences. I wish I knew which decision was the good decision.

Then again..

Is there truly a 'good' decision? On one hand, I'm killing a potential life and that will haunt me but, if I'm not ready to be a parent, I'm bringing a child into a world neither it nor I'm ready for and with a current war having, it's not like adoption is an option and, like Izuru said, it forces me to accept-

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nagito asked. He didn't sound mad, he sounded sad and even a bit guilty, I didn't answer, "I'm sorry if me saying that pressured you." He gave me a hug. I felt so guilty. "I can't say that I fully understand but, no matter what you choose, I'll be in your corner."

"I'm gunna give it a week or two then I'll make my decision," I said nearly in tears, "thank you for being so supportive."

...

It's been two weeks, I thought about it everyday. I was already two week pregnant so with another two weeks, the time for abortion via safe mentions was soon ending. I hesitated and swayed back and forth on my answer. I truly didn't know for a while. But, about two days before my decision I found myself sticking to an answer. I'll stick with this pregnancy. It might help me get over my gender dysphoria, maybe not fully but, somewhat? Plus, it's quite an efficient way to tell everyone that I'm trans. And who know, maybe I'm a better parent than I think I am and with Nagito, I feel like I can take it. It's sort of strange; I'm aware of all the health risks, the mental tax, the problems and possible sadness but, I feel like I can take it. I feel calmer know that I at least, have one person- well two people with Tsumiki, in my corner.

"I'm keeping it" I said with a hug.

"Really? You sure?" Nagito asked.

"Yeah, we're gonna be a family." I smiled, it wasn't fake.

But of course, like everything else in my life, it didn't come without complication. I was already pregnancy four weeks and was just feeling more exhausted. Another week had passed and I kept feeling worse. I didn't know why. I felt exhausted and cold. I was exhausted but not tired, not sleepy. I was awake and shaky. Nagito called Mikan again when he started to notice how pale I was getting. She said it was Iron Deficiency Anemia along with Hypertension. Two things that were really common in pregnancy. She gave me medication for it and it did help but not fully.

At about 8 weeks, I told the group about me being trans and about the child. Mikan recommended to do that instead of immediately because that's when the risk of a miscarriage goes down to less than 10 percent. The group was so happy to have two children born at similar times. Yes, two! Sonia and Gundham were having a kid as well. What a coincidence! Sonia insisted that we started talking more about it.

12 weeks in and everything has been going as smoothly as it can. There's still work, there's still complications, sleeping is an issue, I have been diagnosed with Insomnia, this pregnancy has also made me more dependent on Nagito and has given me more time to think and I don't know if I like that... But, everyone's been really supportive, they haven't treated me any different and because I have a bit more time, I can hangout with them more. I've learnt a lot more about Sonia. I knew a bit about her, like that she's into witchcraft and serial killer documentaries but, she was also into slice of life novels so, this was a dream of hers. How cute.

Weeks 16 - 30 can be summed up here. They all passed the same; excited conversations, preparations, fun little talks, work, insomnia, exhaustion, etc. What was really note worthy was while Nagito went out on a mission to the main lands, Makoto brought back a fluffy white dog, a Great Pyrenees puppy. We agreed to keep and so when Nagito came home, I surprised him with the dog. At first, he was silent, then he started crying; I was scared the he didn't like the dog but, that changed when he went up and hugged the dog, he was so happy. Apparently, this was the exact breed of the dog Nagito used to have. Wow, how lucky. He sat with it for hours before being willing to pry away from it and go to sleep. We decided to call her Lucy.

Fast forward to week 37, about 3 weeks before we thought I was due. I was pulling an all-nighter on this one project to have it done by tomorrow. I knew I was pushing myself but I was almost done, I wanted to free up my schedule so I can have more time with my baby. Nagito, however, was starting to get concerned.

"Hajime, it's really late. You should rest."

"I'm almost done, okay? I just need to finish this last assignment and I'll be in bed. Just give me about an hour." I said, trying to easy his concern.

"Alright.." He didn't sound too convinced but he did leave.

I continued to work on my project and the time flew by until in the middle of my assignment, my stomach really hurt, more than usual. Do you really need to kick that hard, Future Child? I tried to continues working but the pain would just come back worse every time. Maybe I should just go to bed... I tried to get up and walk back to my bedroom but the pain sent me down the floor, everything hurts...everything hurts...I couldn't even scream, I was in so much pain...I felt something wet trickle down and I knew what it was at this point. I didn't know what to do, I was crying. Was I going to die? Was I just going to have to give birth here and now? What can I do??

Then, my savior came into the room. No not Nagito, Lucy! She took one good look and me and went sprinting out the door. I could hear her barking and soon she seem back with Nagito.

"Hajime!! Are you okay!?"

I wanted to say something to something to that question; 'yes', 'no', 'shut the fuck up and call Tsumiki' but, I couldn't let out a sound. Luckily, he took the hint and called Mikan.

"Tsumiki-chan. I'm sorry to wake you but, Hajime may be going through contractions? Please help?!"

They talked for a bit, I could barely focus. I just remember Nagito carrying me to the bathroom while talking to Mikan. I don't know if she was just fast or if I blanked out for a bit but, Mikan was there before I knew it. They both briefly conversed before they got me dressed in a cheap, long white shirt and set me down in the bath. Mikan started sticking needles in me, I don't know what for and she was still talking to Nagito. She finally looked at me and told me to count my contractions and how often they happen. After each one (Because it hurts too much to talk during contractions) I would tell her, when she decided that they were regular enough, she grasped my hand a little and told me to take a deep breathe. I did. Then she told me to push.

That's when it hit me, this was happening now! Oh my god, I was not ready for this but, I don't have much of a choice. So I pushed. Oh god it hurts! I felt like my bones were breaking. She then told me to breathe again and I did, we repeated this until the water started to turn red with blood.

Blood...blood...

Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...Blood...

Blood? Did someone die? I felt like I was somewhere else. I was watching the murders of the student council again, so much blood...like a perfect quality horror movie, I saw them all murder each other clear as day, every person, every stabbing, every slicing, every shooting, all the bloodshed, clear as the day I first saw it. I never forgot any of their faces...

Then, as if it couldn't get worse...all the murders, all the executions...all the blood, clear as day. I was just watching, unable to do anything. Nagito...Chiaki... They were gone. Was my happy life all a dream? Is this the reality I'm truly in or am I hallucinating and this is the fake reality? I can't tell, I can't tell... I want out of this nightmare! I hear voices in the distance, at first I couldn't understand what they are saying but, as the voices got louder, I could slowly understand. Were they calling me? I got my answer.

"HAJIME!" Nagito shouted, dragging me back to reality. I panicked at the different scenery. My heart was pounding, threatening to rip out of my chest. I looked around to see where I was, I was in the bathroom. I couldn't keep my vision still.

Nagito cupped my cheeks, obviously trying to calm me down. "Hajime look at me, okay?"

I tried to focus my vision on him, his eyes full of panic and worry.

"You're having a panic attack. Whatever you saw, it's just an illusion. You're okay, I'm okay, everyone is okay. Please try to calm down."

My throat was dry and hoarse but, I took a deep breath. I continued to do that until I became calmer.

He smiled down at me "Good...good."

Mikan then piped up, "Komaeda-san, I'm sorry but, we do need to c-continue with this..." Then she got an idea, "If blood is a trigger to Hinata-san then can maybe he should just look at you instead. I'll still need your attention Hinata-san but, just keep l-looking at him."

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Nagito agreed. I just nodded. So Mikan continued with her instruction and I kept my eyes on Nagito. It made the birthing a little easier to see his smile and soon enough I did my last push, I felt a weight leave me and while I was still sore, it didn't hurt nearly as much anymore. That's when the fatigue washed over me. I could feel myself passing out already.

"Hey hey...um, I know you're tired but, can you stay awake just a little longer please? Just until Tsumiki-chan says it's okay. Please?"

I didn't want to, the work should be over by now but, I could do it. Voices faded in and out, I was barely able to concentrate. Then, Nagito gave me a kiss on the forehead.

"You did it Hajime! It's okay now, you can rest." His voice was quiet and soothing.

"...Great.." I replied groggily before falling asleep almost immediately after.

I fell into a deep, very needed sleep. It was relaxing for once. No dreams, no nightmares just, floating in the darkness. But, I had to wake up.

The sun was shining through the curtains, not too much sun but, just enough to give the room a bright warm haze. I still felt sore but, it was much better than last night. I sat up and yawned.

"Oh good morning, Sleepyhead." Nagito said, playfully. He was sitting right next to me, looking at me with a warm smile. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

I felt a bit out of it, it seemed so peaceful right now, I just wanted to bask in it for a while. I took the time to notice things around me, like the fact that I was wearing something different; it was one of Nagito shirts and my boxers. I also noticed a little crib in the far corner of our bedroom with what looks to be a baby inside.

"Do you want to see your child?" Nagito asked.

I could only nod. He got up and went to the crib, picked up the small child and came back to the bed. Handing me the child he said,

"Meet your new baby son"

I held the child gently in my arms and at that moment, everything became worth it. He woke up and looked at me. I was expecting him to cry but, instead he just giggles grabbed my finger. Now I'm the one whose crying!

Nagito chuckled, "Don't cry on the baby!" He said playfully but, he was crying too.

He gave me a kiss, "I love you, Hajime"

I returned it, "I love you too, Nagito"

We both held our son and I knew, deep in my heart, this was the right decision.

We're a family now!

If I got something wrong, please tell me. I really tried and I wanna get it right.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 24 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

Friday isn’t any better than Thursday. Though Madi and Mitch kind of filled up the void in my heart yesterday, it just seems to seep out the very next day. I don’t go to school yet, but Madi does today. Her mother allowed her to skip once, but not twice. I don’t blame her for it. Just because my life is ruined and I have no future, doesn’t mean Madi’s life needs to be ruined too. No. I want her to thrive. I want her to graduate High School and go to her dream college. I want her to have the things I don’t have. “Muffin,” Mitch’s voice sounds from the other side of the bedroom door, “I made you breakfast. Can I come in?” I let out a chuckle at how adorable my uncle is. He’s been like that since last Saturday. Just the cutest, greatest uncle alive. “Yeah, come in!” I sit up straight in bed, placing my phone to the side. I’d been scrolling through Tumblr aimlessly. At least the memes are still somewhat hilarious. Unless they’re memes Charlie sent me, because then I cried. “Made you some eggs, your favorite comfort food besides Madi’s mom’s lasagna!” He places the tray on my bed, the delicious smell of freshly made eggs hitting my nostrils. “If it were healthy to eat that much lasagna, even in the morning, I’d let you. But you know… Got to stay healthy.” He sits down at the end of my bed and grabs his own plate. “What movie are we watching today?” he asks before taking a bite. I grab the other plate and start eating too. “You can choose,” I tell him and take a bite, then hold up my finger to tell him to wait until I swallow. “But it can’t be a musical or anything Disney. Especially not Aladdin!” “Ten Things I hate About You?” He suggests hopeful. I think about it for a moment, then nod my head. “Kat does play guitar in that, though?” I shrug. “At least they don’t break out into music every other minute and it’s not the guy that plays the guitar because that would remind me of… you-know-who…” I tell him and take a sip from the orange juice he’d brought along. “Voldemort?” Mitch jokes. I tilt my head a little and raise my eyebrows as if saying ‘really, dude?’. “I’m kidding, Muffin. ‘Ten Things’ it is then!” We continue eating in silence for a moment which gives me the time to think about life. What am I going to do with my life? Since the Music Academy didn’t work out and I don’t have the band anymore, maybe I should do something more … Parent-approved. “I’m thinking of looking into other colleges,” I blurt out, capturing my uncle’s attention. “Maybe check out those colleges my parents wanted me to go to. I do like languages? Maybe I could do something in that direction?” “Are you sure you want to do that, Muffin?” I take a deep breath, placing my knife and fork on my half-empty plate. “It’s better than doing absolutely nothing, you know? I can’t spend my entire life wrapped up in blankets, eating eggs and lasagna and ice cream, and cry. I mean, I can keep dreaming like I’ll live forever but I have to live it. Now or never.” I can’t help but smile at the fact I just quoted the boys’ song and I think Uncle Mitch even noticed it too. “Wise words,” he says with a smirk, “But yeah, I mean, if you really want to do that, then I’m 100% behind you, Muffin. Whatever you need.” The smile on my face widens at this, and it surprises me that my lips can still curl up this far. It feels like I haven’t done that in forever. Mitch’s smile then suddenly vanishes. “Does that then mean you’re going back to your parents’?” he asks. I swallow the lump in my throat. I hadn’t even thought of that. “No,” I reply, “No, I don’t think so… Unless you want me out?” “No! God no! I could never do that to you.” It stings a little hearing him say that since my parents could, apparently. But at the same time, it makes me happy, knowing I have a man who loves me stand on my side for once. “You’re the best, Uncle Mitch, you know that?” The smile reappears on his face, along with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I heard that before,” he chuckles, “I love you, Muffin.” He places his plate on the tray again as I do the same with mine, knowing a hug is about to ensue. “I love you too, Mitchy.” I wrap my arms around my uncle’s neck as he wraps his around my waist. A bunch of oxytocin releases in my body, and for the first time in about a week, actually makes me feel happy again.

“I hate the way you talk to me, And the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare. I hate your big, dumb combat boots, And the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, Even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, Not even close, Not even a little bit, Not even at all.” I recite the poem along with Kat as Mitch and I sob. This movie always makes me cry, no matter how many times I watch it. It’s such a feel-good sad movie, perfect for the situation. My phone rings then, and after having blown my nose and wiped my tears, I pick it up. Ash’s name flashes on the screen. “Hey, Ash,” I greet with a slight quiver of my voice. “Have you been crying?” she asks, her voice instantly filled with worry. “Yeah, Mitch and I are watching 10 Things I Hate About You.” I glance over at Mitch, who’s sniffling in his tissues. “Ah,” Ash says, “The poem.” “Yah, the poem,” I whisper. In the background, I hear a couple of faint voices. She’s probably at the store, handling some customers. “So, anyway, I’m calling to see if you would like to come help me out a little. I asked my brother the last couple of days to fill in for you, but he can’t, and I really don’t have anyone else…” The voices in the background come through again. One of them faintly sounds like Owen, but I could be wrong. “It’s fine if you’re not up for it… I just really could use your help.” I draw in a deep breath. “I’ll come,” I say, which makes Mitch snap his head towards me in surprise. “Really?” Ash asks, not expecting me to say ‘yes’. “Yeah, I could use some distraction, I guess,” I tell her, and rise from the couch. “I’m going to get showered and dressed and then I’ll come, okay?” I hear the voices in the background again. I swear I hear Owen and Jeremy now. “Yeah, perfect! Thank you, Emily!” She sounds relieved. “No problem, Ash. See you in a bit.” “See you.” We both hang up and I start making my way upstairs. “What’s happening?” Mitch asks me before I get to the stairs. “Ash asked if I wanted to come help,” I tell him nonchalantly and rush up the stairs. I quickly take a shower, put some jeans and a top on, add a light layer of makeup and we’re done and ready to go. “You’re leaving the house?” Mitch asks, following after me as I grab my stuff. “On purpose?” “Yes, I am. It might do me some good,” I tell him with a simple shrug. “Okay… I’ll see you tonight then?” I’ve never seen my uncle this confused. “Yes, see you tonight,” I kiss him on the cheek and run out of the house, grabbing my bike to get to the store as fast as possible. It sounded kind of urgent when Ash called me. Plus, if those voices really were Owen and Jeremy, I might still catch a glimpse of them. The store is completely empty when I arrive. Ash is behind the counter, reading a book. “I’ve never seen it this quiet,” I tell her as I drop my bag onto the counter, making Ash jump. “Hey, Emily!” She says louder than necessary. “Hey, thanks for doing this! Uhm, my girlfriend kind of needs me, so…” She pats my shoulder before grabbing her bag and leaving the store in a hurry. I start sorting through invoices, wishing Charlie were here to do it for me because Ash’s handwriting has gotten gradually worse. As if on cue, I hear guitar strumming. Is this in my head? No, it’s actually happening. There’s no Charlie to be seen, only his voice to be heard. “First things first We start the scene in reverse All of the lines rehearsed Disappeared from my mind” He now appears from behind the wall and into my eyesight, an apologetic smile on his face. “When things got loud One of us running out I should have turned around But I had too much pride” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I can’t move a muscle. I’m completely frozen. “No time for goodbyes Didn't get to apologize Pieces of a clock that lies broken” My heart beats faster at the sound of his voice. He sounds incredibly sad and remorseful. “If I could take us back If I could just do that And write in every empty space The words I love you in replace Then maybe time would not erase me” My breath hitches in my throat, and I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes, getting ready to escape. I thought all my tears had dried up. “If you could only know I never let you go And the words I most regret Are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily” Finally, my legs start moving and I walk towards the grand piano where the boys make me jump by starting to play their perspective instruments. Charlie follows me and takes his place behind the microphone, the volume of his voice increasing along with the impact of his words. “Silent days Mysteries and mistakes Who'd be the first to break Guess we're alike that way” My legs give out now, and I drop down onto the piano’s stool. “He said, she said Conversations in my head And that's just where they're gonna stay forever” Tears are now rushing down my cheeks as if they have a race to win. All the while Charlie’s voice gets more and more vulnerable. “If I could take us back If I could just do that And write in every empty space The words I love you in replace Then maybe time would not erase me” I missed this boy with all of my heart. How did I even survive days without him? “If you could only know I never let you go And the words I most regret Are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily” The boys take a musical intermezzo, just singing out ‘aah’s while Charlie walks up to me. He holds my gaze, his eyes teary and filled with absolute sadness that breaks my heart into pieces. I can tell he’s missed me too. I can tell he’s trying to make amends using the only medium he knows so well. His voice now gets lower, and he’s singing the bridge to me with only his guitar guiding him. “If I could take us back If I could just do that And write in every empty space The words I love you in replace Then maybe time would not erase me” The boys now pick it back up too, making my heart swell and feel heavier and heavier with sadness. Sadness Charlie feels and resonates with me through his music. “If you could only know I never let you go And the words I most regret Are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily” He finishes off with a couple more chords on his guitar before completely stopping. “Charlie…” I sniffle, wiping my tears with the back of my hand, but he shakes his head. “Please, Emily, let me talk?” I nod my head to give him permission. “The boys and I, we’re really sorry for ruining your chance with the Music Academy. We tried, but we couldn’t get you a new audition. But we realized, all of us realized, that we didn’t want to be a band without you. We just couldn’t do it. You’re so important to all of us, you’ve changed all our lives for the better. There’s no way we could go on, knowing you were angry at us. So, I wrote this song for you since that’s the only way I seem to be able to convey how I feel…” I chuckle airily, making him chuckle too. “Please, Emily… I can’t not have you in my life.” “Can I talk?” He nods his head. “These past days have been really difficult for me. The Music Academy was my dream and to see that go up in flames, I don’t know, I felt like I couldn’t go on. But I realized that just because that one dream didn’t turn out as planned, I shouldn’t give up. I’m not saying I’m going to beg for another audition, because I am not. I considered it a sign that maybe that school isn’t for me,” the three boys are listening to me intently. “So, I though this morning, if I don’t have the Music Academy and I don’t have the band, I might as well just go to a parents-approved college.” Charlie glances at the rest of the band. “I mean, you do still have the band though?” Owen chimes in with a shy smile. “We can’t be Emily and The Foxes without Emily.” “Yeah, we’d just be The Foxes,” Jeremy adds with a light-hearted chuckle. I shake my head at him, a smile tugging at my lips. “I missed you guys,” I say. Charlie kneels down in front of me now. “So, what do you say, Emily? Will you join the band again?” he asks, which makes it look like he’s proposing to me. “Please?” He looks up at me with those puppy-dog eyes that I just cannot resist. Even Owen and Jeremy stare at me with hopeful eyes. “Hey, Jere,” I turn to the bassist, “I think there’s a jam you can play now.” He looks confused, but Charlie gets it and starts playing the chords to This Band is Back. “Come on, Jeremy!” Charlie counts us in, and Jeremy starts singing, placing his bass back in its stand to move freely while Owen moves away from the drums, tapping his body again. “Can you, can you hear me?” “Yep! Loud and clear!” I shout happily, jumping up from the stool. “Gotta get, gotta get ready” “'Cause it's been weeks!” I smile at Charlie’s lyric change. “Oh, this band is back,” Jeremy sings alone, grabbing my hand and twirling me around. “Oh, this band is back,” Owen, Charlie and I harmonize. We dance around the grand piano together, singing along loudly. “Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh This band is back!” Jeremy then grabs me by the waist and puts me on top of the piano, then jumping on himself. We all burst into a fit of laughter, and when we die down, I find Charlie staring at me with an endeared smile on his face. He tugs at the guitar strap, so his guitar is on his back instead. Jeremy and Owen take this as their cue to leave after both having kissed my cheeks. “So, now that the band is back… What about us?” he asks carefully. I take a deep breath. I haven’t given that a thought yet. “I don’t know, Charlie…”  he looks like a hurt puppy. “I love you, but I just want to focus on the band and figuring out what I want to do with my life…” I bite the inside of my lip awaiting his response. It makes me wonder if he can hear my heartbeat. “That’s fair,” he says with a half-hearted smile, “Let’s focus on the band and become better friends instead.” His face lights up when my mouth curls upwards. “I’d like that,” I say, and hop off the piano to embrace him. “And, thanks for that song, by the way. It’s so beautiful! Definite Emily And The Foxes vibes,” I wiggle my eyebrows before walking up to Owen and Jeremy and hugging each of them. “I missed you so much!” Jeremy grunts into my ear as he picks me up from the floor. “I missed you guys too.” So much.

Taglist: @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @ashleyleblancx​ @calamitykaty​ @lolychu​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @siennanoelle01​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @luckylouiebug​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​

[puckinghell]

Mittens | Tyson Jost

Summary Requests: you never wear mittens so i knit you a pair and leave them for you to find as a gift from an anonymous person because i’m shy

and

your family ditches you for the holiday so i take you home with me, except my family thinks we’re dating now, and i don’t know how to tell them that we’re not Word Count: 3.8k Note: this is dedicated to @thesmutpeasant‘s knitting behaviour

---

When you finished your PR degree, you wouldn’t have said that working for a hockey team was your ultimate dream. You didn’t even know hockey. But working for the Avs has pretty much been the best time of your life, so far.

Where else could you spend an hour of your work day talking about Christmas gifts? 

So far, the boys have decided that for Christmas, Gabe needs to get some hairspray, Z needs a new wardrobe, and Mikko needs a girlfriend.

“What about Tyson?” you ask JT. “Have you gotten him a present yet?”

JT laughs. “No, I haven’t, but I think someone should get him a blanket or something. He’s not good with the cold.” “Hey, fuck you!” Tyson yells from the other side of the room. “It’s freezing here, we can’t all be cold blooded like you!” JT huffs. “He says that, but he’s dressed like he lives in California or something. Never wears a hat, or gloves. And then he complains about the cold all the time. One night he even asked if he could have my duvet.” “That was in Winnipeg, and you know how cold Winnipeg is,” Tyson protests. “Besides, I asked you to cuddle me warm first, but you said no.” It’s teasing, and JT rolls his eyes, but you know Twitter is gonna explode at this. “Thanks boys,” you say, putting down the mic, and the cameras finally leave the room. “What do you want for Christmas, Y/N?” Tyson asks. Out of all the boys - although you would never admit it - you like Tyson the most. He’s always chatting with you when the cameras turn off, and he asks you things like he cares about the answer. You’ve become friends, in the past few months. He’s also really cute. You shrug. “Some sleep would be good,” you say, because it’s been a long road trip, and Tyson laughs. “Same.” --- The next morning Tyson brings you a cup of coffee to the plane. “How is she gonna sleep on the plane now?” Burky teases, and Tyson turns bright red. You make sure to take a picture of Burky from an unflattering angle in retaliation on Tyson’s behalf. Not that it necessarily makes Burky look any worse - that guy doesn’t have bad angles - but it’s the thought that counts. You sleep on the plane and keep yourself busy during the day, but when the evening rolls around, you sit in your quiet apartment and busy your hands as your mind winds down. Knitting may sounds like a grandma hobby, but it calms you down, thank you very much, and it means you’ve always got a personal gift for someone. For Christmas, your grandma has asked for a scarf, your mom wants a hat, and your aunt asked if you can knit a romper for your few months old niece. You have no idea how to do that, but surely you can figure it out. However, today, you don’t really feel like knitting any of those. Knitting those requests feels a little too much like work, right now, and you wanna knit just to knit. You don’t even realize you’re knitting mittens until you’re halfway through the first one. You don’t need mittens; you’ve got a good selection of them, a wide variety of colors. You remember your talk with JT and Tyson, yesterday. There’s someone who needs them. --- It’s weird, that’s something you’re sure of. To just give Tyson a Christmas gift, a handmade Christmas gift, and not have anything for the other guys. They would chirp you to hell and back and you’re not sure you’re ready for everyone to know about your teeny tiny crush on number 17. However, you can’t deny the fact that you knitted these mittens with only one person in mind, and it would feel weird to give them to anyone else. So, one morning, when Pepsi Center is still dark and there’s nobody around, you put them in Tyson’s stall without a note and decide to never think about it again. Which would be easier if you’re not the one having to do pregame interviews that day. “So, the Blues are obviously the reigning Stanley Cup champions...” - EJ pulls a face and you can’t help but agree - “how can you make sure you take the two points here tonight?” “Probably score some goals,” EJ says with a deadpan voice and a wide toothless grin, and you’re about to yell at him for being an awful person to interview when there’s a loud noise on the opposite side of the locker room. “Ah, sick!” The entire room turns to Tyson, who is beaming with excitement and looking at the mittens in his hands. “Someone got me gloves!” “Those aren’t gloves, those are mittens,” Cale says wisely. Tyson stares at him for a few seconds, then obviously decides to ignore him. “There’s no note,” he wonders out loud, and you really, really hope your blush isn’t too noticeable. EJ’s eyes are a little too fixed on your face. “Maybe it’s a secret admirer,” Mikko offers. “Maybe it’s someone who’s just as sick about you complaining about the cold as I am,” JT says. “Where are my mittens?” Z ponders. “You’re not getting any, you don’t deserve them,” says Nate, and Z goes to put him in a headlock. The boys start arguing about why they do or do not deserve mittens and EJ turns back to you. “So,” he says, “any more questions?” --- The boys win in OT and there’s excitement radiating through the locker room. You’re not doing the postgame; Lauren is, but you follow her around anyway, mostly because you love the locker room after a win. The happiness is contagious, and you find yourself smiling all evening. Most of the guys have gone home when Lauren packs up her final stuff. “What a game to end with before Christmas, huh?” she says, giving you a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, Y/N!” “You sure you don’t want to come?” JT’s voice is filled with enough worry that it catches your attention. You pretend to focus on packing your bag, the door slamming shut behind Lauren as she leaves. It’s just you, JT and Tyson, now. “Nah, man, it’s okay.” Tyson sounds a little down, which is not what you would’ve expected, after he scored to put them into OT earlier. “You’re with your girl, and I don’t wanna be a third wheel. I’ll be fine.” “But you can’t be alone on Christmas.” JT is clearly indignant. 

You’re just standing up when Tyson gives JT a playful shove. “Go, Comph. Go have a fun Christmas. I’ll be chill here.” JT rolls his eyes but gives Tyson a quick bro hug. As he’s leaving the locker room, he sends you a smile, a “happy holidays” and then he’s gone. You turn to Tyson. 

“You’re staying here for the holidays?” Tyson shrugs as he puts on his coat. It’s not nearly thick enough to be a winter coat, and he’s not wearing a scarf. He does however, take the mittens and put them on his hands. “My mom is on a cruise and Kacey is celebrating Christmas at her boyfriend’s house. Everyone is leaving me alone this year.” He’s trying to sound light, like he’s joking, but there’s a sharp edge in his voice that tells you it matters more to him than he’s willing to let on.

Something squeezes in your chest. Nobody should be alone on Christmas. “My family is coming to my apartment on Christmas Eve to have dinner, do you want to come?” You blurt it out before really thinking it through; it’s probably gonna be hard to explain to your parents, that you’re suddenly having a guy over for Christmas, and maybe Tyson will think it’s weird that you’re asking him: you just heard him tell JT no, so why would you think he wants to come hang out with you? But when you brave looking up at him, Tyson is smiling widely. “You sure?” he asks. “Is it not too much trouble? I can help you cook if you want. Or, you probably don’t want that, because I suck at cooking, but I can do whatever else you need me to do. I’d bring gifts for all your family, of course, and…” He’s rambling, and it’s cute. “Tys,” you interrupt him, and you can’t help how fond you sound. “They’ll love having you around. My dad is always saying it’s not fair, four girls and one guy, and my sister is bringing her girlfriend, so I could use a partner in crime, too.” “Okay, that’d be awesome,” Tyson says truthfully, “thanks so much, Y/N.” He smiles at you brightly and then puts on his mittens. “Dude, these are so warm, I love them.” You nearly promise to make him a hat and scarf too, but then you figure you might’ve exceeded your maximum amount of weird for the day by inviting him to Christmas dinner, so you quietly follow him out to the parking lot while he excitedly chatters about Christmas movies. --- It’s the morning of Christmas Eve and you’re this close to having a mental breakdown. Your house is a mess; you figured you didn’t need to clean it, your family has seen it all, but now Tyson is coming and you would like him to not think you’re the biggest slob in the world. Also, there’s the fact that an extra mouth to feed means more food necessary, so you have to go to the store and get more groceries. All in all it means that when your doorbell rings, you’re still wearing an old Avs hoodie and leggings, and you’re pretty sure there’s cookie dough in your hair because you decided you needed dessert after all. It’s not like Tyson gets to sin all the time. Christmas is as good an excuse as any. “Hey,” Tyson smiles. He’s looking annoyingly nice, wearing a grey jumper and dark blue slacks. As soon as he sees the state of you, he frowns. “What is that in your hair?” “Cookie dough,” you tell him honestly. “You look nice.” “Thanks,” Tyson grins proudly, “I Facetimed Kacey to pick out the colors.” He walks into your apartment like he’s been there a million times before, pushes a bottle of wine into your hands and starts unpacking the bag with presents he brought, putting them under the tree. “Am I early?” “A little,” you admit. “I, uhm, kinda still need to shower. You know, get the cookie dough out of my hair.” You think about it, for a few seconds, then decide that you can trust Tyson with this one thing. “Can you take the cookies out of the oven in 10 minutes so I can shower?” Tyson nods, throws you a thumbs up and then parks his butt on the couch like that’s where he belongs.

It makes you feel... things.  And, well, you might take a little longer to get ready – putting a little more effort in your make up and hair than you would’ve if it had just been your family -  but the last thing you expect when you come back in is for everything to be ready. Except it is. There’s candles lit on your coffee table and the presents are all under the tree. Your mom has a glass of wine in her hands and greets you with a “honey, there you are!” Your sister and her girlfriend aren’t there yet, but your dad is standing at the dining table with Tyson. The dining table is fully laid and Tyson has a half eaten cookie in his hand. “Sorry,” he grins, when he spots you. “They just looked too good not to touch.” You must’ve been staring at the scene a little sheepishly, cause your mom laughs. “You okay there, honey?” 

“Uh yeah,” you bring out. “I see you met Tyson?” Your mom’s face instantly brightens. “Oh yes, we have, but if you want to do proper introductions…” For a split second, you panic, because you don’t actually know how to introduce Tyson – a friend? A coworker? You can’t really say an unreachable crush – but you’re saved by the door bell. “Y/N!” your sister says, giving you a quick sideways hug. “Amy and I brought some extra wine, in case you didn’t have enough booze and we have to listen to dad talk about baseball all evening while sober…” She stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Tyson. “Oh, hello.” “Thanks, Meg,” you mumble. “We uh, have enough, probably, cause Tyson brought some too.” Meg turns to you, wiggling her eyebrows. “A boy that brings wine? Keep him around, will ya.” You’re about to tell her to shut up, when your mom stands up. “Time for dinner!” --- It turns out Tyson fits in with your family right away, and you’re not even halfway through the night when you realize your catastrophically big mistake. Seeing him like this, as if he’s an integral part of your life already, does nothing to help your massive crush on him. Because Tyson is perfect. He talks sports with your dad and interior design with your mom – “My mom used to redecorate our place every year or so, you pick up some stuff” – and falls into a flawless routine of teasing you with Meg. He tops up glasses, passes the salt without being asked, and every now and then he sends you a smile that has your stomach turn in your body. It’s not until after dinner, when you’re standing in the kitchen with your mom, cleaning dishes, that you understand your mistake has been even bigger than you thought. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart,” your mom coos. She’s looking at you with fond eyes. “I was worried, you know, that you never introduced us to a boy or girl. I don’t want you to be lonely here in Denver. But Tyson is such a lovely guy. You can tell he really loves you.” You can… what? “Oh, no, mom,” you stutter, “he’s not… He doesn’t…” “Oh, but he does,” she interrupts. “I see it in the way he looks at you, you know. When a person really loves someone, it’s in their eyes. And Tyson looks at you with love. You deserve someone who cares about you, babe, and I’m just so happy you’ve got someone here in Denver, when we’re so far away. I just don’t want you to be alone.” And, fuck, your mom clearly thinks you’re dating Tyson, and you realize you still haven’t introduced him properly to your family, of course they think you’re dating, who brings home a guy to Christmas for platonic reasons? You know you should tell her that you’re not dating, you know that, but she looks so genuinely happy, and you know if you tell her now it’ll break her heart. Quietly, you sneak a glance towards the living room. Your dad laughs at something Tyson says while Tyson ruffles through Meg’s hair. She swats at him, and Amy is smiling. Every single one of them would be upset to hear that Tyson is nothing more than a crush that’s way out of your league. 

You know you have to tell them. But maybe just not tonight. Maybe, just for one Christmas, you can let them be happy. “Thanks, mom,” you force out a smile and your mom returns to the dishes. It’s not even a few seconds later that Tyson wanders into the kitchen. “Hey,” he smiles, “can I help?” He leans into you and puts a hand on the small of your back and your heart flutters and it’s innocent, sure it is, he’s just trying to be friendly, but your mom gives you a knowing look as she says: “Sure, you guys finish up here,” and demonstratively closes the kitchen door behind her, leaving the two of you alone. “Your family is awesome,” Tyson grins, as he starts to dry the dishes. “Meg tells me you guys go skiing every February. Me and Kacey usually try to go during bye week, Meg said maybe we can go together!” And something inside of you bursts. “My family thinks we’re dating.” Tyson frowns, puts the plate he was drying down. “Oh, really?” He doesn’t sound upset by the fact, simply curious, and you sigh. You’re gonna have to explain this one. “I guess I just didn’t really think to tell them who you are or like, what we are? And so they just saw that I invited a guy to Christmas and they assumed that we’re together. They absolutely love you, Tys, and they always worry so much about me having a boyfriend, and I just…” You pause; you know you’re turning red and it’s impossible to get out the words. “Hey, it’s okay,” Tyson says gently. He reaches out, his hand landing on your arm in a gesture of comfort. “You don’t have to tell them now. We can just… date.” He flushes. “Fake date, I mean. For tonight. Or, like, however long you need us to.” “Really?” you ask, relieved, and Tyson laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised. As if it’s such a hardship, to pretend to be your boyfriend.” He shoots you a wink, puts the final plate away and wanders back to the living room. Leaving you absolutely stunned, wondering what just happened. --- “Gifts!” Meg says, clasping her hands together. “The true meaning of Christmas!” Your mom gives her a disapproving look, but even your dad is eyeing the presents under the tree with a little too much interest.   “I’ll go first,” Tyson says with shining eyes, “being the new one in the family, and all that.” “Ah, yay, it’s not me anymore,” Amy giggles, and you swear to God you are going to die. Somehow, despite not knowing your family, Tyson nailed his gifts. Your dad is over the moon with his new slippers, your mom keeps sniffing the scented candle he gives her, and Meg smacks Tyson across the head with the Avalanche beanie he got her, until she notices there’s two tickets to a musical that Amy has been wanting to see in there. 

You’re a little jealous, because you love gifts like that, until Tyson hands you an envelope. “I heard you tell Gravy how much you like them,” he says, and he sounds a little off. Nervous, even. “And if you need a plus one…” He wiggles his eyebrows and laughs, but even his giggle comes out a little nervous. In the envelope is two tickets to your favorite band, who are playing in Denver next month. You didn’t end up getting tickets cause they were sold out stupidly quickly and were ridiculously expensive in resale. “Oh my God, Tys, that’s way too much,” you tell him in awe, but Tyson just shrugs. “No use for an NHL salary if you can’t spend it on the people you care about.” It sounds weirdly genuine, a deeper level of something ringing through, but it’s way too much to unpack right now. You feel a little stupid about your gift for him, now – a nice wallet cause his old one looks like it’s been through a lot – although Tyson seems really happy with it, even gives you a hug to say thank you. For the rest of your family, you’ve got a normal gift and something knitted, as extra, and it’s not until you catch sight of the deep frown on Tyson’s face that you realize something. Fuck. You forgot about the fucking mittens. “Isn’t it cute, Tyson?” your mom says, as she wraps the scarf you made her around her neck. “She always knits people gifts. I swear it’s her way of saying how much she loves them. She spends so much time on these.” She pauses. “I mean, you’ve probably been with her while she makes them, you know.” “Yeah,” says Tyson, slowly, although you know he has no clue. After that, it’s like you can’t even really enjoy the rest of the night; you can’t focus on the Christmas movie Meg puts on, can’t focus on how cute it is when she cuddles up with Amy, can’t focus on how fondly your mom is smiling down at you or your dad’s soft snores as he falls asleep halfway through. You can focus on Tyson’s thigh pressed against yours, and how you have no idea how to explain to him why you knitted him those mittens. Finally, your mom stands up, gently kicks your dad’s legs, and smiles at you. “I think it’s time for us to go,” she says. “I’m sure you two wants to enjoy some part of Christmas Eve in privacy, too.” “Mom,” you scold her, feeling your cheeks heat up. Tyson grins at you. By the door, as your mom gives you a hug, she whispers: “He’s a keeper, honey,” and you nearly tell her everything. “Yeah, he’s alright,” Meg says way too loudly, and you hear Tyson giggle in the background and you decide to shut up. The door closes behind them and immediately, Tyson stretches out on the couch. “Ah,” he says. “I’m pretty good at impressing the in laws, no?” You don’t remind him that they’re not actually his in laws. Instead, you fall back onto the couch and groan. “Are you not gonna make fun of me for knitting you mittens and leaving them anonymously in your stall?” you ask, because you might as well get over it. Tyson frowns. “Why would I do that? Those mittens rock, my hands haven’t been cold since.” You blush. “Yeah, but, don’t you think it’s weird that I made those? I didn’t make any for the rest of the team.” For a second, he seems to think about that. Then he moves a little closer, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. Electricity zips through your veins at the contact. “I kinda hoped that meant something,” Tyson says slowly. “Tell me if I’m wrong?” You only had two glasses of wine but you feel like your world is spinning as Tyson moves closer tauntingly slowly. Finally, his lips touch yours, and you understand every cliché ever written into any romantic Christmas movie. When his hand moves to your thigh, settles on the skin right below the hem of your dress, you yelp.

“How are your hands still cold?” 

Tyson chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t been wearing my mittens, so...” 

---

Years later, you’re laying on the couch with your daughter, watching a Christmas movie after having just set up the tree.

“Daddy, what was your favorite Christmas present Santa ever gave you?” your daughter asks. 

Tyson sends you a private look above her head, then focuses on her. 

“A pair of hand knitted mittens.” 

“Like the one mommy made me?” she asks, and he grins.

“Yeah, kinda like that.”

[amyscascadingtabs]

look now, the sky is gold

He wants this, has longed for this, and he already can’t wait to meet whoever’s growing in there, but he’s scared, too. There’s no turning back now. His world is about to be forever changed, and it will never be just him and Amy again. There will be someone else depending on them, always another person in the back of their heads, and it's slowly hitting Jake that he's about to get onto what is sure to be simultaneously the best and most terrifying rollercoaster of his life.

or, the jake peralta way of dealing with the news that you're going to be a dad. 

read on ao3

(thank you to my love @johnny-and-dora for cheering me on about this and major thanks to @amydancepants-peralta for reading through it for me!!) 

____________________________________________________

During the months they were trying, Jake pictured his reaction to a positive pregnancy test many times. 

Each time Amy took one, he’d either sat with her and held her hand, or waited outside the bathroom quietly twiddling his thumbs. Each month, he’d thought of what his reaction would be if the test came back with the two lines meaning pregnant. Maybe he’d laugh, or kiss her, or make a dope sextape joke that she'd punch him in the arm for. There were plenty of options, yet he never considered the reaction that occurs when Amy does fish the familiar white and pink plastic stick out of the pocket of her hoodie.

First, there's the surprise, the realization that this test has two lines and not one.

Then, there's the piecing together, looking from the test to Amy's tear-filled eyes and nervous smile in sheer disbelief.

Then it's the part where even though he thinks he understands, he asks to make sure, and his voice trembles when he says the word baby? and Amy confirms it and suddenly he's tearing up, too, giving in to the sudden need to wrap her in a tight hug.

 “Is this real?” He whispers as she sniffles into his hoodie. “You're… this is really happening?”

“I think it is,” she laughs, a little timid, and he wants to hug her even tighter. Then he wonders if he's supposed to be extra careful with his wife now when she’s carrying the beginning of a brand new person inside of her, and stops himself.

“You did it,” he says instead, and she nods. His shirt is becoming wet from her crying, but he doesn’t mind it. He's missed her happy tears. “You did it, Ames.”

“We did it,” she mumbles, and Jake thinks about holding her hand at the doctor’s appointment, sitting there listening to the fertility consultant explain what medications she needed to take. He’d felt useless, not knowing how to help except staying by her side. “Me and you together.”

Mostly you, he wants to say, because it was always hardest on her, but she pulls away from him smiling so wide, and he nods.

“Okay. Me and you.”

Amy claims she’s exhausted, so they go to bed early even though neither has work tomorrow. Jake finishes the game - he loses, but it’s okay because he's untouchable right now and Wario cheats anyway - and then crawls down under his side of the comforter, waiting for his wife.

  Amy comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel and underwear, and he’s mesmerized by her as he watches her pull the familiar blue NYPD t-shirt over her head, fabric sliding over the still mostly flat stomach.

He thinks about how this body he knows so well and loves so much is carrying the beginning of another life inside of it. It's hard to understand how it can still look the same, no obvious changes in its appearance, when it must be changing more than ever on the inside. He wonders how long it'll be before the outside catches up. Part of him can’t wait for it to; maybe it'll feel more real then, once he can see it happening. Plus, he's already certain Amy’s going to look cute as hell with a real baby bump. He’s excited.

  “I'm too tired for sex,” she warns him when she catches him staring, and he holds up his hands, feigning innocence.

“No worries. I mean, we don't even have any pressure now, right? Already made the baby,” he points out, and she chuckles as she gets under the covers.

“We did. Without a war-room calendar and everything.”

“Just love,” he muses.

“And a little bit of hormones, possibly.”

“Love and a little bit of hormones, title of our sextape.”

“I love you,” she whispers, and he can't stop himself from pulling her closer, making her giggle as he presses feather-light kisses to her neck. “I can't believe this is real life.”

“We're having a real-life baby.”

“Hopefully.” Amy bites her lip. “I mean, it's still early. We shouldn't be telling people for another month or two, in case something happens.” Her voice shakes on the last word, but Jake hushes her.

“Let's not think about that, okay? Let's just be happy for right now.”

She gives him another faint smile. “Okay. Right now.”

“And right now you're pregnant.”

“Right now I'm pregnant.” Her eyes gleam. “Holy fuck.”

“Woah, using foul language in front of our unborn child? Shame on you, Santiago - shame.”

“They're a five-week embryo. They don't have ears yet.”

“Right, right. But they exist,” he says, still trying to comprehend it. “Because we're having a baby.”

“We are,” she nods, and this time the smile on her face is radiant, making up for every instance he’s seen her crying in the last months.

  He’s not sure what time he wakes up the next morning, but Amy's not awake yet, so he figures it must be early. She's drifted away from him during the night, and he moves closer, aching to be near her.

She’s sleeping on her right side with her mouth open slightly and her hair spread out on the pillow, and Jake wonders if it’s possible pregnancy is making her glow already. He reaches out to wrap an arm around her, but is stopped in his tracks when he notices that her left hand is resting on her stomach as if to protect the tiny life growing in there.

He has to swallow hard to keep himself from crying again. This is not the time to have a breakdown, because his wife is finally pregnant and he has to keep it together for her sake, but with the boundless happiness has come an edge of fear and something else.

  It’s a feeling he can’t put words on yet, but it’s spreading from deep in his heart to every capillary in his body, filling him with an immediate, acute awareness that he would do anything in the world to make sure the child growing in there is safe. The thought of something happening to Amy has been his worst fear for a long time, ever since he had to leave his post in Texas so she could do her job without him hovering over her and being worried sick, but this feels different. This is instinctual. Jake doesn’t know anything about this child yet, isn’t sure if what he feels for them counts as love when it’s so new and uncertain, but he knows deep in his soul that he’d give up everything to keep them safe.

  Carefully, as to not wake his soundly sleeping wife, he lifts the comforter and leans down so he’s facing her stomach. He presses a kiss to her hand, and then lets his rest on top of hers, linking their fingers together. Amy smiles in her sleep. Jake allows himself another moment of just watching her, wondering how on Earth he got so lucky, before he gets out of bed and pads into the bathroom.

  He’s washing his hands when he notices the pregnancy test still resting on the counter next to the sink. Amy threw away all the negative ones, and he’s taken aback by seeing this one on full display before realizing it makes total sense for her to want to save it. He wonders where they’ll put it - it seems weird to make a shrine for a piece of plastic someone’s peed on, but it also feels wrong to leave the first evidence of the existence of their child forgotten in a drawer somewhere. He picks it up for a second and balances it in his hand. The two lines are as clear as they were yesterday, and just looking at them makes him jittery with excitement and a little bit of nerves.

He wants this, has longed for this, and he already can’t wait to meet whoever’s growing in there, but he’s scared, too. There’s no turning back now. His world is about to be forever changed, and it will never be just him and Amy again. There will be someone else depending on them, always another person in the back of their heads, and it's slowly hitting Jake that he's about to get onto what is sure to be simultaneously the best and most terrifying rollercoaster of his life.

  He needs a distraction. Amy’s probably going to wake up soon, and he could always try to make them breakfast. This is something worth celebrating with real, unhealthy pancakes, served with an excessive amount of butter and syrup and possibly some strawberries if Amy forces him. Jake finds the pancake mix, hidden deep inside the cupboard still filled with gross healthy stuff like oat bran and sunflower seeds, and is about to get milk and an egg from the fridge when he notices something.

 On the second shelf in their fridge is a small piece of some weird, but surprisingly good, cheese Charles gave them. Next to it is a package of cream cheese, and next to that are two bags of mozzarella and a piece of regular gouda. Jake remembers reading somewhere about all this stuff you're not supposed to eat when you're pregnant, and he's almost certain the list included a bunch of cheeses. He can't remember which ones, but just to be certain, he throws out the one from Charles, the first of the mozzarella bags, and then he throws out the gouda and the cream cheese too just in case. He sees a packet of bacon and vaguely remembers something about deli meats being another no-no. He's not sure what counts as deli meats, but he throws out a packet of turkey lunch meat and the bacon as well. Surely, they can't be too safe, and he wants - needs - to protect his pregnant wife and their child in every possible way. He wants to do his best and he wants to start today. If throwing out all their cold cuts is one way, then Jake is doing it. Maybe he should pour out all their alcohol too, that he knows is dangerous, or at least hide it for the following nine months -

  “Babe, what are you doing?”

He freezes with the second bag of mozzarella still in his hand, turning around to meet the befuddled gaze of his wife.

“Uh -”

“Why are you throwing out everything in our fridge?” Amy has thrown on one of his hoodies and her hair’s in a messy top knot, but she still manages to give off one hell of an authoritative vibe when her brows furrow and she's looking at him like he just explained he was getting ready to compete in the next Summer Olympics.

“I thought…” He nods to her stomach and then to the cheese in his hand. “Pregnant people aren't supposed to eat a bunch of stuff, right? I’ve heard this stuff about cold cuts and cheeses, and then I wasn't sure which ones, so…”

“So you threw everything out?”

“Yeah,” he confesses, sheepishly. “Better safe than sorry?”’

Amy sighs. “Jake, you’re majorly overreacting.”

“I am?”

“The recommendations for cheese and deli meats are there to avoid getting listeria, which you’re more susceptible to in pregnancy, and which can also harm the baby. But pretty much everything is sprayed with food additives today, so the risk is low, and the bacteria dies if you heat it up. For cheese, you just have to avoid the unpasteurized ones.” She grabs the mozzarella from his hand, reading at the back. “This is pasteurized. Most cheeses are. So the only thing you’re doing is creating food waste.”

“I didn’t know for sure,” he shrugs, backing away and looking down at his feet as Amy puts back the cheese in their fridge before closing it. “I thought - I wanted to do this right.”

She squints. “What do you mean?”

“I have to start being a dad now, right? And I want to,” he rambles quickly. “Fuck, I can’t wait, okay? But…” He gestures to her stomach again, swallowing hard. “You’re doing everything, and I wanted to help. Start being a good dad right away.”

  There’s a moment’s silence. Amy bites her lip, her eyes narrowing again, and he realizes she’s tearing up.

“Oh, honey,” she sniffles, and then she throws her arms around him without warning and hugs him tight. Jake hugs her back, stroking her hair. She’s been crying so much lately, it’s becoming second nature, but this time she pulls back after a couple of seconds and wipes away the tears with the sleeves of the hoodie before looking him right in the eyes.

“Please listen to me when I say this. You are a good dad, okay? You’ll be amazing. I hate to tell you this, but you can’t exactly be pregnant for me.”

“I know that,” he scoffs, a little indignant. Amy shakes her head, holding her hands on his shoulders.

“This kid is the size of an apple seed right now. An apple seed. We haven’t even known about their existence for twenty-four hours yet. What I’m trying to say is we don't have to clean out our entire fridge yet, babe.”

“I want to protect them,” he mumbles. “Make sure they're safe. It feels like the closest thing to that I can do is try to protect you.”

“I’ll make sure we throw out all the stuff I can't have,” she promises him calmly. “I’ll make a list in the binder of what I can't eat or do and I’ll follow it to a T. But you have to trust me, Jake.”

“Of course I trust you. It's not that.” He grimaces, taking a deep breath. “I could never deal with anything happening to you. And now, if it does, it's also happening to our child, and that makes it worse, Ames! I’m just...”

“Feeling a little overprotective?”

“Yeah!”

She giggles, which makes him feel kind of stupid, but then she stands on the tip of her toes and kisses him something sweet and lingering, and he figures he can’t have made too detrimental of a mistake. She smiles as she pulls back, and it’s such a safe smile, one saying I know you and it will be okay all at once. It’s easy to return it.

  “Babe, I can protect myself. And until this child is born,” she says, moving her right hand to rest above his heart, “I promise to do everything in my power to protect them, too. I’ll go on desk duty, I won’t as much as touch a drop of alcohol, and I’ll try to stress less. Hell, I’ll drink decaf coffee for the next nine months for the sake of this baby.”

“Woah.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “Save your applause. Point is, babe, I’ll keep them safe. Can you trust me to do that?”

 He doesn’t have to think about his answer for long. In the eleven years he’s known the woman standing in front of him, he’s learned a lot about her. She’s the best person he knows - smart, brave, motivated and hard-working as hell - and on top of that, she’s fiercely loyal. Amy cares for the people around her, genuinely cares in a way that goes much further than sending the whole precinct Christmas cards or remembering every single one of her nieces’ and nephews’ birthdays.

Amy cares, and a lucky selection of people, she loves. Jake’s always seen it as the greatest honor of his life to get to be loved so deeply by her, and much like he confessed a late evening on their honeymoon when they recited their actual vows to each other, he plans on spending every day of their lives together trying to be worthy of it.

Amy loves, and the people she loves, she would go to the ends of the Earth to protect. There’s not a sliver of doubt in his mind about it, and the longer he thinks about it, the more certain he feels about two things.

 First and foremost, that Amy will love their baby to pieces. If there’s one thing Jake’s looking forward to even more than meeting their baby himself, it’s getting to see the look in Amy’s eyes when she holds them for the first time. He already knows it will drive his heart crazy.

Secondly, he knows she’ll protect them. Amy’s a protector, always looking out for the people she loves, and even though she’ll roll her eyes at him when he does something decidedly harebrained, like hiding in a ceiling for a frivolous squad competition and breaking his ribs falling from it, she’s also the one insisting on driving him to the ER later. If she’s willing to love and look after him in that way, then Jake figures her level of commitment to protecting their child will be immeasurable.

  Jake trusts Amy to keep their baby safe. He trusts her so much, he’d be willing to bet their car and apartment and everything else Amy’s told him he’s absolutely forbidden to bet, on it. His insecurities are rooted in the fact that he wants to protect this child, too, but aside from protecting Amy, he has no idea how to go about it for the upcoming nine months.

  “I trust you,” he says, voice steadfast, and Amy looks pleased. “That's not the problem.”

“Good. So what is?”

“What should I do? Except wait impatiently for them to be born so I can help out?”

“Well,” she shrugs, “you could just keep doing what you're already doing.”

“What?”

“Being my partner,” Amy says calmly, eyes piercing into his. “Which you’re already great at. You can just be here, hug me when these crazy-ass hormones make me cry, listen and talk me down when I get anxious. All I want is for you to be by my side for this, as much as you can.”

“Hold your hair when you throw up, buy you a bunch of crazy food when you get cravings, always be available for sex whenever you reach the point in pregnancy when women get super horny?”

“Okay, slow down.” She rolls her eyes. “We don't know if any of that is going to happen yet. I haven't exactly done this before.”

“Point is I’ll do all of those things if you need me to,” he grins. “Of course I’ll be your partner, Ames. You don't have to ask. But I… I want to do everything I can for our baby.”

She strokes his cheek, reaching up to give him a chaste kiss. “Which is how I know you're going to make the greatest dad on Earth. But for now, babe, they don't need you yet.”

“Ouch.”

Amy laughs. “They’ll need you in nine months, and for the rest of their life after that. If you want to do what’s best for them, I’d suggest keeping yourself safe until then, and I’ll take care of us. Myself, and this wished-for, crazy loved little apple seed.”

He looks down at her stomach again as she says that, trying to imagine a tiny bump there. All he can procure in his head is the giant fake belly from her undercover mission in Texas, but he figures his frame of reference will grow soon enough.

  “And once they gain a sense of hearing”, Amy continues, “you can start talking to them if you want. If you do, the books say they’ll recognize your voice once they’re born. You can come with me to all the appointments, maybe read some parenting books, and I’ll let you order the Die Hard-onesie and baby sneakers I know you’ve been eyeing online. We’re doing this together. I’m just going to do a bit more of it in the beginning. Okay?”

He places his hand over the one that’s on his heart, moving them both to her lower abdomen and nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I love you,” she whispers, another tear already trailing down her cheek. Jake wipes it away with his thumb.

“I love you too.”

 They stand together for a moment, just hugging. It’s all he needs to feel a little more relaxed. He’s still certain he’s in for the wildest rollercoaster ride of his life, but Amy’s words and presence, the knowledge that he’s doing every step with her, is the over-the-shoulder harness to make sure he’s sitting safely for every second of it. The worry and fear of not doing enough is still there, but her trust in him makes it subdued.

 “How are you so chill about this?” He asks when they separate, Amy getting a glass of water for herself before taking a smaller one and extending it to him.“Oh my god, Ames - has having my genome inside of you corrupted you?”

Amy snorts with laughter, spitting out water over herself and the sink. “That is so not how any of this works,” she gets out, coughing slightly.

“It’s not?”

“Not by a long shot. Anyway - you want to know why I’m calm?” Jake nods.

“Because I’m with you. I mean,” she says, folding her hands together and focusing her gaze at them. “Also because it’s super early. Honestly, I’m not sure I trust that it’s happening yet. I guess I need to have blood work done to confirm it, and I don’t know if I’ll fully believe it until we have an ultrasound and we can hear a heartbeat, but… a lot of it is because I know I’m doing this with you.” She looks up at him, a careful but firm smile on her lips. “So I know that no matter what happens, it’s going to be okay. Somehow.”

“We’re having a baby,” he whispers, and her smile grows wider.

“We’re having a baby.”

 He’s not sure who closes the distance between them, or who kisses who first. All he knows is he lets himself get lost in it, immersing himself in the feeling of her lips on his, insistent and wanting, her arms around his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist when he lifts her so she’s sitting on the kitchen island. He pulls at the hem of her t-shirt, but she’s there before him, pulling it over her head and giving a meaning nod to signal at him to take off his own.

  They end up in the bedroom, because as useful as their kitchen island can be, it always gives one of them a backache the next day and the bedroom is easier, full stop. The bedroom lets him worship her in another way, lets him do it slowly, devote his entire focus to the sounds she’s making instead of worrying about losing his balance. And he wants to worship her; maybe now more than ever, because he’s still trying to make up for the disaster that was the end of those six months, but also because he’s never been so certain that his wife is magic. She’s doing something extraordinary, and he wants to show her how much he loves her for it, loves her for what she’s willing to go through to grow their family.

  He doesn’t know how much time passes - the duration slots on their war room calendars have become but a memory he’s happy to leave behind - but after, Amy curls into his side and rests her head on his arm. He plays with her hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of her forehead, and he can’t remember the last time he felt so at peace.

“Promise me one thing,” she mumbles in his ear, and he nods.

“Anything.”

“You are not allowed to become one of those men who become afraid to have sex with their pregnant wife because you think you’re going to poke the baby’s head.”

He gives her a haunted look. “I wasn’t going to until you pointed it out!”

“It’s not a thing! They’re well protected in there, and they won’t have a clue what’s happening anyway! So - not allowed.”

“Noted,” he mutters, trying to erase the picture from his head. Amy giggles, pecking his lips with a kiss.

“Great. So what are we doing today, to celebrate?”

“Well, I was trying to make pancakes, before I got distracted -”

“You want to go out to breakfast? As a family?”

The last word makes his heart flutter. “Okay.”

  They end up going out to their favorite diner. Jake can’t help but make note of how many parents with their kids are there. He wonders if it’s an unusual amount today, or if he just never made note of them before. It doesn’t matter, because they bring up the same thought anyway; how soon, the couple who are trying to make their toddlers look up from the iPad long enough to be fed bites of toast could be him and Amy, or even sooner, the couple who takes turns eating and exchanging a fussing infant between them.

In the booth opposite theirs, two women are having breakfast while a ginger baby in a baby chair happily plays with a paper straw. Just as Jake is starting to wonder if he’s creepy for not being able to look away, the kid makes eye contact with him, grins and waves the chewed-up straw at him. Jake picks up his own from his drink, waving it back. The kid laughs at him, and Jake feels his heart melt in a way it’s never done with a stranger’s baby before.

“I can’t wait to take our kid here,” he tells Amy as he’s pouring syrup over his pancakes, and she shoots him a smile over the edge of her decaf-coffee cup.

“Me either.”

  After breakfast, they stop at their neighborhood’s Target, because Amy wants the digital tests that say the word Pregnant and Jake wants to stock up on snacks so they can have a slug day with movies in bed. This time, the aisle of baby clothes doesn’t hurt to walk past, and after they’ve done so, he finds himself suggesting they’ll turn around.

  They browse through little onesies and pants and hats with ears on them, pointing out their finds to each other with equal excitement. Eventually, they settle on footed pajamas with a pattern of grey stars - gender-neutral, soft, and even tinier than he imagined they’d be - and Jake tries to picture their child wearing them. It doesn’t seem completely real to him yet, but he says it to Amy anyway, and then he has to hug her when she starts crying again.

“These are happy tears,” she whispers, clutching the item between them. “Stupid hormones.”

“I know,” he laughs, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay.”

 He still feels a little worthless thinking about everything his wife is going through, a little powerless and wishing there was more he could do, but he holds her as she’s crying in the baby clothing aisle of Target and thinks that if this is the best way he can protect her and their kid for now, he’ll gladly spend the rest of his days doing it.

  (A month later, when he’s holding the first sonogram picture of their fetus in his hand and the sound of their ticking heartbeat is forever imprinted in his head, he knows it for certain.)

~

[seokiloquy]

Lost In- What Word? Pt 2 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 2.7k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Another Saturday rolled around and the open field of the nearby park was close to empty. It was partially cloudy outside, letting the sun pour out periodically onto the grassy field. You kicked back, keeping a lackadaisical watch over your bags while trying not to fall asleep from the warm blanket that the sun gave you. The gentle heat that was settled into your stomach wrapped around your sides in a hug, it made it difficult to keep your eyes open and watch your son practice. It definitely didn’t help that in the moments when your eyes were open, your attention was mostly captured by the sturdy movements Akaashi made as he coached Naoko, and not Naoko himself.

This was one of those moments. Back facing you, the older man fell into a deep lunge, one leg stretching out further than the other. With his hands clasped together in an arrowhead shape and arms strengthened underneath his slim-fitting t-shirt, the ball fell right into the fleshy part of his forearm, bouncing high into the air with a satisfying smack. You quickly turned your gaze away toward the incoming dark clouds, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Nice spike, Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

You looked back to the rally that was taking place before you, smiling at Naoko’s large grin as he hit every ball with the near-perfect ability that had been developing over the past few weeks. Something hitting your cheek stopped you from spouting your own support for your boy. Looking up to the sky, your eye was assaulted by the same light sensation. Within seconds it began to pelt your skin harshly.

“Mama, it’s raining!” Naoko cheered, spinning with a large grin in his quickly soaking clothes.

You screeched at the feeling of cold water seep through your shirt to roll down your spine. Quickly, you grabbed the three bags off the ground, wrapping your arms as tightly around them as you could. From the corner of your eye, you could see Akaashi swipe a giggling Naoko off the lawn and point in the direction of the street. Naoko thrashed around happily in the older man’s arms.

The strong rain continued to stab into your skin as the three of you sprinted. Once at the dark-haired man’s car, he set Naoko down and began patting down at the non-existent pockets of his track shorts. “Keys,” he muttered repeatedly before spinning to pull his back out from your arms.

With the back door quickly swinging the door open, Akaashi lifted the young boy off the ground and pushed him into the back seats before helping you load the bags. The rain continued to pour down your back in small, cold waves. You shivered as the last bag was thrown in and the two of you began to round the sides of the car, hoping into the front seat.

Akaashi turned on the engine and cranked up the heat as you spun in your chair to try and dry off your son’s face, using your thumbs to wipe at his cheeks. “Keiji, do you have any— uh, clothes.. no, towels in here?” you asked.

He groaned, ruffling his hair to shake the water out. “Sadly no.”

A dissatisfied hum escaped you, as you spun back to face the front of the vehicle, listening to the rain as it bounced off the metal exterior. A roll of thunder echoed in the distance, soon followed by a flash of lighting. You sighed, “I guess we’re stuck here for a bit.”

Akaashi pulled the dar out of its lane, hand coming to rest behind your seat’s shoulder as he reversed. “I’ll drive you two home,” he said, smiling at Naoko as his eyes skimmed over the boy’s damp cheeks, “how are you doing bud, cold back there?”

Naoko hummed defiantly, shaking his head quickly, sending a few stray droplets of water Akaashi’s way. “Can we go play in the rain some more?”

You tried not to laugh.

Akaashi shook his head, finally pulling into the open lane, and faced the steering wheel. “Sorry kiddo, no can do.”

Akaashi felt a tingle tickle the back of his neck as he flipped through the storyboard sketches that Udai had prepared. The pages were messily put together and had misspelt notes covering the margins. Akaashi stared at a crude sketch of a newly introduced character on the page, trying not to laugh at the silly expression before flipping the sheet over.

"I think it looks good," he said, eyes skimming over the last page.

"Really? Not too bland? It is sort of a filler chapter," Udai yawned quietly as he splayed out on his chair as much as possible.

"I think you've included enough information that it isn't redundant."

"Wow. Thanks," the artist scoffed.

Early morning checks-ins, though required in the name of productivity, often left the undesirable feeling of doing a whole day's work in just under an hour. So when Akaashi stepped out of the small meeting space and saw that the sun was still high in the sky, he couldn't stop the audible groan that escaped him.

Chiyo laughed lightly, "long day?"

"The day's hardly started," Akaashi sighed, carding a hand through his hair, ruffling it at the back of his head. "I just want to sleep. I had a long weekend."

Ena gave the editor a smirk, "had fun with (Y/N) I presume."

"Oh shut up, Ena," Chiyo chuckled.

Akaashi slumped into his spinny chair, making it squeak at the fast movement and extra weight. Despite facing the other way, the light pouring through the window was incredibly bright, making him squint uncomfortably as he glared Ena's way. The other man gave him a conniving smirk.

"I wish that were the case. But not quite, I was dragged out by one of my friends to play volleyball yesterday. Apparently, their setter got bailed out and they needed a substitute. Everything's sore." Akaashi let out a pained groan, stretching his casual blazer covered arms above his head. He peaked a look over to your cubicle glancing at the unruly organization of sticky notes and pens that touched every surface except for your frames and monitor screen. "Where's (Y/N) anyway?"

"Naoko caught a cold, so (Y/N) is working from home today." Chiyo let out a pitiful whine.

The door to Udai's office opened slowly as the artist finished her sentence. It creaked as a mop of wavy black hair poked through. His nose pushed against the edge of the door as his eyes peaked over. "Poor baby Naoko is sick?" He asked, voice curling upwards. “If I could, I would make him some warm stew.”

“If you don’t get back to work you’ll fall behind,” Chiyo warned, not taking her eyes off of the large screen she drew on. With his frown becoming an unsightly grimace, Udai rushed back into his little office, berating himself for taking his eyes off of the paper for even a second.

Akaashi continued to stare at the empty seat on the other side of the frosted cubicle, biting his lip. He sighed, turning on the monitor on his desk, just barely ready to face the work he had to do for the next few hours.

Yukie opened the door, giving the taller man a familiar curled grin as she gestured for him to enter the apartment. He noticed the tall ceiling that had a fan hanging down from it and the plain couches that were covered with a soft-looking blanket. To his left was the open kitchen, where he carried over the stiff bag that he had been holding tightly onto. Yukie coughed, still holding the door open as she kicked on her shoes, umbrella in hand.

“I’m off to see some old friends,” she said. “I would say not to burn the place down, but it seems you brought food. See you.” The door shut gently behind her.

Down the hall, in Naoko’s room, you placed a cool towel against the boy’s forehead. “You really shouldn’t have played in the rain when Keiji dropped us off, now you’re sick.” 

He moaned tiredly in response, trying to turn his head to feel more comfortable, nearly letting the towel slip. Shimmying the heavy fabric back into place, you let the tips of your finger trail along his hairline, feeling for his raised temperature as you soothed him. “Oh sweetie, it’ll be okay.” You pecked his forehead lightly, grabbing the empty glass that sat on his bedside table and tucking his soft orange blanket over his shoulders. “Go to sleep, it’s okay.” His eyes were already half-closed and you were rising to your feet when the door opened.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Akaashi pitched, having waited a few moments in the hallway to listen to the melting tone of your voice as you spoke to your son in words the editor couldn’t understand.

Awe immediately filled your stomach, fluttering like little moths trying to find the nearest light. You watch as the man bowed slightly in the doorway before taking a few steps to meet your side. Leaning down, the back of his hand came to cup the younger boy’s cheek. Your eyes widened as Naoko's head fell limp in Akaashi’s palm, nuzzling into the strong muscle beneath the man’s skin. The strange feeling nagged at you again, making your lips pull into a pursed smile.

“He played in the rain didn’t he?”

“Even after I told him not to. Maybe he would’ve listened to you better,” you chuckled, crossing your arms against your stomach as your brain took a moment to switch back to the staccato paced language, different from your native tongue.

“It’s a shame though,” Akaashi said, walking to the door, hand coming up to hover behind your back. “I brought some warm soup for him to eat, I guess it’s just us then.”

The both of you walked toward the kitchen/livingroom split, and Akaashi gestured for you to sit down as if he were the host instead of the other way around. He reached into the cabinets to pull out two bowls.

“Let me help yo—”

“You’ve done enough today by taking care of Naoko. Let me at least do this for you.”

The light soup, despite not being the sick one in the house, warmed you up easily as it’s delicate flavour ran over your taste buds with each spoonful. The two of you ate in silence, listening to the rain that spat against your windows with every gust of wind. You didn’t even realize that you had asked for seconds before the bowl was once again placed in front of you by one of his sturdy hands. 

You quickly looked up to inspect the sharp corners of his eyes that smiled at you without needing any assistance from his mouth. The stare you were holding was quickly diverted to the bowl in front of you.

Before you even had the chance to notice Akaashi’s adoring gaze or the syllables that were about to fall off his lips, you blurted out.

“Thank you, Keiji. For everything.” You looked up just in time to see his mouth shut, waiting. “I honestly couldn’t be more thankful for everything you’ve done for us, I can’t put it into words.” You furrowed your brow as you maintained eye contact with him. “No, I seriously don’t know the words in Japanese. Don’t expect me to start spouting out a haiku for you just yet.”

He chuckled lightly, letting the melodic sound dance into your ears, making it even more difficult to put the right words together. You could feel heat burn the skin of your cheeks.

“I want to repay you somehow, so how abo—”

“How about I take you on a date?” he asked, leaning his elbows onto the counter.

You gulped, completely unable to get the words to escape you, and nodded.

Naoko, as you noticed over time since his initial meeting of Akaashi, has grown in unprecedented ways. Now, seven years since he was born, those small insignificant memories from when he was little had slowly faded into your subconscious, despite their images being engraved into your brain in those earlier years. 

Your lip swelled from the bite mark you left as you watched him bounce on the wooden court, heals never planting into the ground.

Yukie, the sports-loving and nutrition enthusiast, was the first substance added to this boy of a chemical reaction; introducing Naoko (and by association you) to the keep up sport at the ripe age of three. Working with athletes on a day to day basis and being near them since middle school gave the maroon haired woman a leg up in understanding in comparison to non-sporty parents. As soon as she was able, she took on the position of something akin to a soccer-mom. Helping you enroll Naoko in sports as soon as he was able to walk.

At the time, Naoko never seemed all too interested in volleyball itself. More attracted to the notion of being able to bounce something around. It at least kept him away from your phone. But as he grew older, and people began to notice that he wasn’t originally from Japan, Naoko’s outer shell seemed to build a bit, only opening the door for a stray volleyball to roll in. He was so shy.

Akaashi, so similar in some respects, made an unknowing catalyst in the young boy’s reaction. Suddenly and rapidly evolving the young, shy boy into one whose outer shell had carved out a bigger door, letting more things in, and a lot more out.

At the beginning of the volleyball season, only a couple weeks ago, Naoko’s coach came up to you after a practice, asking if the young player would be interested in moving up a level in the club, joining the representative (Or Rep) team for his age group. Naoko had stared at you like a tiny tawny owl until you agreed.

Now, you sat on the small metal bleachers set up for parents to watch their kids play, letting the excitement bubble in your stomach as your eyes trained on the young boy set a ball up into the air for his teammate to spike into the opposing club’s side of the court. The blue and yellow ball smacked into the floor after flying over the short net.

“Good Job!”

Your vision, as the players set up for the next serve, shot to Akaashi who was standing next to you, hands open on either side of his mouth as he yelled out in support. You smiled as he sat down again.

“Thank you for inviting me to come watch him play.”

A laugh escaped you as your hand waved defiantly. “To be honest, it was Naoko’s request. I was just the messenger. Besides,” you prompted, gesturing slightly to your son, who’s smile tore at the corner of his squishable cheeks, the largest you’ve ever seen from him. “He wanted you to see his first ‘real’ game.”

Akaashi’s charming grin was hard to look away from and at. 

“You know,” you continued, nodding over at the larger man that stood on the opposite side of the court with the rest of the players. “His coach told me that Naoko was a true prodigy after his try-out.” You bit your lip as you looked down at your fiddling fingers, feeling the light throbs begin to push against the back of your eyes. “Volleyball makes him so happy, and for him to know that he has talent is only pushing him further. God, he’s only seven and he’s already told me that he wants to be a volleyball player.”

You sniffled, hands clenching each other tightly. “I owe you so much Akaashi, you don’t even realize.”

His larger hand came to pull yours apart before holding the closest one gently in his palm. Letting his thumb swipe over the back of it. “You don’t owe me a single Yen, (Y/N). But hey,” he said, making you pick your chin up to face him. “If he wants to be a professional, I know a few cool guys he might want to meet.”

Sometimes I think about the fact that some of the people that have read our one-shots might share them with their friends or have a platform where they are popular, and it scares me and makes me happy at the same time. 

Also, we changed our upload date to Sunday because it works better for Kiwi. - Bacon

Posted: 13/09/2020

[cuddlepilefics]

14.    Winter Concert

Fandom: Monsta X

Sickie: Kihyun

Caregiver: Hyunwoo + Changkyun

 Noone’s POV.:

The members of Monsta X were backstage, preparing for their last concert of the year. It was a special Christmas gift for Monbebes before the group would go on a Christmas break till the New Years Eve performances they’d give in a few weeks. It was quieter backstage than usual because although the members were thrilled to perform, they were also tired, given this was the final concert of their tour. Everybody was a bit anxious, their main vocalist had been nursing a runny nose for the past few days, pushing through the performances with a bit of a cold. Today was an exceptionally cold day. It had snowed and the streets were frozen. Monsta X were lucky, they had made it to the venue on time, being stuck in chaotic traffic. The dancers worried about frozen and slippery spots on stage but were assured that the stagelights were glowing hot enough to melt everything.

The maknaes already had their hair and make-up done, ready to go on stage. Waiting for the others to finish, they were messing with their leader who had originally scrolled through social media on his phone but was soon chasing the two younger rappers. Kihyun still sat in his chair in front of a mirror. He had his eyes closed, while two stylists worked on his hair and face at the same time. His lips were slightly parted to allow him to breath easier with his stuffy nose. Being way more run down than he let on, he almost fell asleep right there if it wasn’t for the loud noise of the hairdryer. The managers had put him on vocal rest immediately when he told him that the cold didn’t only affect his nose but also made his throat dry and itchy. Being allowed to only talk in very crucial situations, the vocalist had remained quiet throughout the conversations the members had. To a degree he was glad that he was officially on vocal rest apart from their performances. This way he had an excuse for not really partaking in conversations and nobody would suspect him sleepily spacing out, which he did frequently.

Sucking on a throat lozenge, he thought how lucky he was that this was the final concert. Of course, he loved Monbebe, that made him wish for a break even more. Their fans deserved only the best and right now, he doubted he’d be able to give them that. Kihyun rarely showed his insecurities but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Like most singers, he feared being judged for bad live vocals. His live vocals were always on point, his perfectionist side made sure of it. Not being able to sound perfect live due to being sick hit the young idol hard. The reassurances of his members fell on deaf ears each time it happened, which was luckily pretty rare. The time till they had to get on stage passed in a blur, he had just finished drinking his water and plucked in his ear pieces before finding himself in front of a large group of people.

It wasn’t his first time on stage but Kihyun was unusually nervous as his eyes wandered over the sea of faces. He had spent most of his time backstage going over different what if scenarios, including the possibility of him losing his voice halfway-through. It for sure hadn’t helped his confidence one bit but he tried to smile since he didn’t have much of an option. All he could choose was how he’d disappoint his fans today, either by not performing at all or by not performing as well as he usually would. What the young idol failed to realize though was that he was much harsher in himself than anyone else. His voice sounded a bit nasally and flat compared to how people were used to it sounding but nobody except for Kihyun himself really minded. The fans understood that it was the final concert of a long tour and their idols were bound to be tired by now. Especially after Shownu had mentioned Kihyun feeling a little under the weather while chatting with the crowed, they cheered the vocalist on even more. The fans would sing along to the chorus, while the members would do back-up vocals for their friend when he was too out of breath to sing his lines with his usual power.

All in all, the concert went off well. Kihyun’s voice lasted till the end and only cracked once in between. It had started snowing again while they covered a Christmas song, completing the perfect concert experience. Despite wearing only thin outfits in the cold environment, none of the members felt cold. They were warm from dancing and the lights did the rest to warm them. However, when they stayed on stage, saying good bye to the crowd, the temperature became more noticeable. With his clothes dampened by sweat, Kihyun soon started shivering, trying to conceal it as much as possible till they made it off the stage. Despite his exhaustion, he changed into his normal clothes faster than anyone else, in hopes he’d feel warm again after removing his sweaty performance clothes. He barely heard the praises he received for singing so well, when he didn’t feel his best, the only thing on his mind were the chills that had settled deep in his bones.

He stayed huddled in his coat during the entire drive home although they had turned on the heater in the car and the other members found it quite toasty. Laughing they had piled their own coats onto the vocalist who still kept complaining about being too cold. Taking pity on their shivering member, his friends let him have the first turn showering. Kihyun hadn’t spoken much after the concert but the few words he had said to his members proved that his voice completely shot and he struggled to speak at all. It was difficult to tell whether his voice was wrecked by sickness or by straining it too much and honestly, it didn’t make a difference because it was painful either way.

Being the first one to crawl into bed and the last one to wake up, the other members could only guess Kihyun’s condition but not ask. They struggled to be patient and wait for their friend to wake up so they could check on him. It was even more difficult for his roommates who had listened to the vocalist cough in his sleep and were almost certain the time they had spent in the cold weather had successfully gotten Kihyun sick. With Kihyun not seeming to wake up any time soon, the group had breakfast without him. By the time the vocalist finally ventured out of his bedroom, most of his friends were gathered on living room couch, playing video games. The only two missing were the leader and the maknae. Avoiding the trouble in the living room, Kihyun shuffled into the kitchen to get himself some water. He had woken up with his throat dry and on fire, hoping a few sips would sooth the pain. In the kitchen he found Hyunwoo and Changkyun, one of the squeezing lemons and the other slicing ginger. When the two idols looked up from their task, the vocalist waved at them, remaining quiet. “Good morning, hyung. How do you feel today? You slept really long”, Changkyun greeted. Hyunwoo turned his full attention to his Kihyun, frowning as his dongsaeng pointed at his throat and shook his head, before pulling out his phone typing. He had lost his voice completely.

If I didn’t have a cold before, I certainly do now. It’s mostly just my throat and head hurting and I’m pretty tired despite sleeping so much.

“Aish, sorry Kihyun-ah. Kyunnie and I were just preparing you a pot of lemon tea with ginger and honey. We figured you had pushed yourself too far yesterday. Do you want to eat something while we finish?”, the leader asked, placing a comforting hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. Kihyun shook his head, even having to swallow his own saliva was torture at the moment.

Thank you for the tea but food would hurt too much right now.

Putting the knife down, Changkyun hugged his sick hyung, surprised that the older, usually composed man melted into his embrace. He still kept an arm around Kihyun’s shoulders when the older had to cough. The harsh, dry sound of it was already an indicator for how bad it must hurt but the wet look in the vocalist’s eyes as his throat was shredded to pieces was a dead giveaway. The maknae flinched in sympathy as he watched his hyung clutch his throat, fighting hard not to cry. “Hyung, to you want to lay down till and wait there till we bring you your tea?”, Changkyun hummed with his arms still around the older as it seemed to give him a sense of comfort. Kihyun nodded accepting the glass of water Hyunwoo handed him. He cringed as he swallowed and handed the glass back after only a few sips before he let the maknae guide him back to bed.

He had forgotten how wonderful his bed had felt this morning and sinking back into the pillows, Kihyun questioned why he had even gotten up in the first place. Ah, now he remembered. He had been thirsty and kind of lonely, all by himself. That’s why when Changkyun turned to leave, he his dongsaeng’s hand tightly, preventing him from even taking a single step closer to the door. To say the maknae was surprised would have been an understatement but he took a seat next to his hyung anyways, shooting a text to Hyunwoo to finish without him because Kihyun didn’t want to be alone. Changkyun shifted to sit with his head against the headboard and pulled the older up to rest against his chest because it seemed like lying completely flat made it difficult for Kihyun to breathe. They spent a few minutes in comfortable silence in which the maknae kept running his hand up and down the other’s arm for comfort till he noticed his hyung’s breathing become irregular. The vocalist would sometimes stop to breathe entirely while his chest spasmed. It almost seemed like he was choking. Changkyun took awhile to figure out that the older was desperately trying to suppress the urge to cough, which was understandable remembering the incident earlier. But a person can only suppress coughing for a short time and it was obvious that Kihyun wasn’t able to breathe properly the way his chest spasmed. Gently helping the older sit up, the maknae held his hyung’s hand, telling him to squeeze tightly against the pain. The older did, while the rapper used his free hand to rub his back. Having fought back the need to cough for so long, it seemed the vocalist couldn’t stop now. There were tears streaming down his face and the gasping breaths he gulped in between the wracking coughs could have been mistaken for sobs. Changkyun’s fingers had already gone numb but he wouldn’t show his own pain, worried for his hyung who was still choking on air while his throat burned and his head pounded.

Since the fit didn’t seem to die down, Hyunwoo who had listened from the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water along with some cough syrup he found in the bathroom and some lozenges that were supposed to numb the throat after singing too much. The sight he walked in on when he pushed the door to his dongsaeng’s bedroom open almost broke his heart. The vocalist was hunched over clutching his throat with one hand and the maknae’s hand with the other. He placed the items he was carrying onto the nightstand and crouched down next to the bed, waiting for the coughing fit to die down.

When it finally did, Kihyun was drained, weakly falling back against Changkyun’s chest, who kept him sitting up. He was still panting in an attempt to catch his breath when the leader brushed the hair out of his face to feel for a fever. “Kihyun-ah. You feel pretty warm”, he stated sadly. “I brought you some cough syrup so you won’t have to go through that too often and some lozenges to hopefully numb some of the pain”, he continued. The vocalist nodded gratefully, opening his eyes to accept the small measuring cup of cough medicine from his hyung. He only drank a few tiny sips of water to wash down the taste because his throat was still too painfully swollen to swallow properly. With a lozenge in his mouth, he dropped his head back against the younger rapper’s collarbone, closing his eyes. The maknae stayed in his spot, holding his hyung upright as he drifted off to sleep because he feared the other would start coughing again if he lay down. The leader exchanged a look with the maknae and told him to yell or text if he needed something before he left, confident that the youngest had it handled for now.

He snuck back in for a moment to put the teapot and a mug onto the nightstand for Kihyun to have when he woke up later, only to find both of his donsaengs asleep. Apparently, the maknae had been more exhausted from the tour than he had let on and cuddling his slightly too warm hyung made it impossible for him to stay awake any longer. Hyunwoo snapped a picture, sighing to himself because he knew the maknae was bound to get sick this way but by now separating the two of them would have been too late anyways so he just let them rest in the comfort of each other’s presence.

[di-in-al]

Californian Gold (Part 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, bullying (if you squint)

Notes: Here’s Part 2 as promised! It’s mostly a filler chapter, but lots of you and Billy. The tag-list is open! So feel free to ask. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_______

Billy sang along with each word that blasted through the radio in his car. His car was extremely clean seeing that it belonged to a teenage boy. His leather seats were flawless with no burns or tears in them, and everything else was shining. Except for his glove compartment that was wide open and full of cassettes. Your hand grabbed the first one that stuck out. The words DEF LEPPARD were on the front with bright colors and pictures.

“You a car person?” His voice went from singing to suddenly questioning you. His eyes didn’t leave the road in front of you, instead his hand questioned you more than his face did. You really didn’t know how to answer that question. You weren’t voluntarily a car person, your dad making you learn the way a car worked for instances like these.

“Yeah, I guess.” He took the short response to keep quiet, or just go back to his obnoxious singing rather.

Eventually, you pulled up next to your car. It had stopped smoking for the most part and it now sat idly like it usually does. You silently gave it a scowl and cursed it for putting you in this position. Billy went on about something as you pulled your hood back up. Now that the engine had time to cool off, you could see the radiator reservoir was bone dry.

“Here Doll, you fill it up. I’ll look underneath for the leak.” Before you had the chance to protest, he ripped his jacket off, tossing it on the hood of his car. He had a white wife beater on underneath that was halfway tucked into his jeans. He quickly slid under the car and you couldn’t help but watch. His long legs were the only thing you could see, but damn that was nice too.

“Go ahead and pour. I’ll watch and see where the leak is.” You got to it, only to stop when you heard him start sputtering.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” He cried, crawling out quickly and you could help the laugh that escaped your throat. His face was covered in black liquid, and it transferred to his arm as he wiped it away from his eyes. You couldn’t help but try and hold back the laughs from coming out, but you failed. Terribly.

His irritated eyes watched your lips and then proceeded to wipe his hand across your face with a mischievous grin. With that, you stopped. He watched as your mouth suddenly turned sour, and any remnant of happiness left your face.

Billy watched as you cowered back into your shell. You wiped the dirt from your face and proceeded to your car. Your turned your engine over, successfully turning it on and hearing it roar to life.

You couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed that this ended your eventful evening, but at the same time, your mind wandered to your Dad. He was probably worried sick. Your peripheral caught Billy wiping off the oil angrily and grabbing his jacket.

“Look Billy, thank you so much for helping me. I really appreciate it. I do. I’ll see you around, yeah?” Your hopeful eyes went back to his. It was then, you could see his friendly demeanor change to his typical asshole self. His eyes hardened and his plump lips turned up into a sour expression.

“Yeah, no problem.” With that, he threw his jacket back on, and ripped his keys out from his pocket. After he sped off down the long road, you let out a long sigh. He did seem like a semi-decent guy. They thing that made you stop and think was, why would he treat you like that and playboy all of the other girls. He wouldn’t.

You tried to not read into it too hard and continue on your mission to get home to your dad. You hopped in the cabin of your car and took off towards home.

The faint sounds of the tv going was the first thing you heard after walking through the dark doorway. Until there was a click and the feeling of cold metal against your temple. You froze, dropping the grocery bags that were in your hands.

“Daddy?” Your voice came out as a broken whisper, and your eyes traveled to his large form next to you. His eyes softened from the hardness that consumed them. You’ve seen that look in his eyes many times before. Ever since he started staying in the house more and more, he became worse when it came to his flashbacks and being over protective of you.

“Y/N/N?” He dropped his elongated arm and ran his empty hand over your shoulder. “Where have you been? Are you alright?” His raspy voice came out a mile a minute and you reached down to pick up the now busted milk carton and frozen pizzas.

“Yeah Daddy, the car broke down. A buddy from school helped me. Radiator hose has a leak.” Your voice was now calm, and how it usually is. Not the terrified rendition that was heard a few moments ago. The mood that filled the room calmed down along with the casual talk and he uncocked the gun and went to put it away. His hand traveled along with the counter towards his room.

The new house has thrown him off.

He walked back into the kitchen slowly, and opened his eyes towards you. His cloudy eyes reminded you of just how vulnerable he actually is. He was lucky enough to come home from the war with his life, his sight however, was left in Vietnam.

“Now tell me about this hose.” His calming voice was directed towards you, and you flicked the light switch, letting light flood into the room. Boxes still lay around, neither of you bothering to unpack anything yet.

“I dunno, I was driving and smoke just started coming out from the hood. I’ll go see if there’s a car part store around here.” He nodded, turning away from you and facing the tv.

“You still want some pizza?” His gray colored curls shook along with his head and you chuckled. “Me neither.”

You shoved the frozen frisbees into the freezer and went to clean up the milk.

“You still have that .38 I gave you? You need to keep that by your bed and take it with you in your car. We don’t know this town yet and I don’t want anything happening to you.” His voice carried through the two different rooms and you sighed. You totally forgot about that thing. It had to be in a box in your room somewhere.

“Yeah, it’s in my nightstand.” You lied, not feeling bad about it. You weren’t too fond of the thing, but you kept it to make your dad feel better. You’d never need it and you knew that, but it was your dad that always thought of the worst scenarios.

“Good. I’m going to go sit down. You going to bed?” You threw the milk covered paper towels in the trash can, and turned towards him.

“Yeah I think so. Got school early tomorrow.” After saying your good nights, you walked up to your room.

You worried about your dad. He suddenly wanted to move to Hawkins, and coming from him, it was a weird move. He never wanted to leave the house in Florida, let alone move all the way up here. You lived your entire life there and so this move was hard for you.

You walked through your doorway, and walked around the room, careful not to run into any stacks of boxes. You ran your hand across the wall, feeling for the light switch. You flicked it up, light coming from the old ceiling fan hanging from the ceiling. It looked exactly how you left it this morning.

Except for the man standing by your window.

A scream formed in your throat, until you recognized the three stories of hair that frantically was moving back and forth. Steve’s eyes were huge, his index finger held up to his lips to tell you to be quiet.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?!” You squeaked, his voice catching in his throat. You both stood, staring at each other and he was looking around frantically for an answer. “Well?!”

“I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay! That whole phone call thing freaked me out. What happened?” His brown eyes went back and forth between yours, and you watched as he goofily tried to explain his presence.

“My car broke down and Billy showed up when I called you. We fixed it, I’m fine. That still doesn’t explain why you came through my window?” The wind blew your sheer curtains around from where he left the window open.

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t want to come through the front door. Your dad is scary. Like Hopper scary.” You didn’t know what the hell that meant, but you went with it.

“Okay well, I’m good. You could’ve just asked me at school tomorrow, but thanks for checking on me.” After you finished speaking, he just nodded. He proceeded to stand there awkwardly  and you chuckled.

“You should go home, we have school in the morning, yeah?” He smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. Sorry for scaring you. I’m sure you’re sorry for scaring me so we’re even. See you tomorrow?” He began climbing out of the window, and you pushed some hair behind your ear.

“Course, night Steve.” Right before he jumped off into the pile of bushes under the window he  nodded.

“Night Y/N.” He took off to the next house and walked in the front door. You closed your window, being sure to lock it. Never had to do that in Florida.

The drive to school was awful, but you made it. Barely. Billy’s car was already parked in the same spot as yesterday. You decided to park next to him, seeing as your class was right through the door in front of this parking lot.

You saw Steve and Nancy sitting in his car, talking. You threw your Walkman on, and headed inside hoping to sit in your first period class and read some more of Dracula.

You got a couple pages in before class started and you felt pretty good this morning. A huge contrast to yesterday.

“I came through the door today.” Steve’s voice came from above you, and you nodded with a laugh. His tall frame sat down in the desk next to you and you both waited for the teacher to come in. You were totally immersed in your book and the music coming from your Walkman to hear your name being called. It wasn’t until your Walkman got ripped from your head that your attention was averted to the person standing next to you.

Billy stood there with nothing but a leather jacket on his torso. His smug smile made you nauseous.

“What?” Your voice came out a bit harsher than you meant to, but you were almost happy that it did. He looked around to the majority of the people watching, and chuckled.

“Never took you as the bookworm type.” He ripped the book from your hands and your anger immediately went through the roof. You held your hand out calmly, but slightly shaking.

“Give it back to me. Now.” His lips turned into an elongated oval, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh yeah?” No one noticed the teacher walk in, and he just sat there and watched the situation unfold. He had an itch to make an example out of someone this early.

“Give it back to me, Asshole. Or I shove that book so far up your-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hargrove! Y/L/N! Detention after school!” His loud booming voice rang through the classroom and that’s when everyone corrected themselves and faced the board, getting their materials out and acting like they were completely innocent.

“Excuse me? He took my stuff!” Your eyes bore into Mr. O’Connell’s and he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Does that matter? You were spitting profanity like nothing and Hargrove was bullying. You both deserve it. Now, either get your stuff out and learn, or get out of my classroom.” He was pointing at his door by this point and all you could do was let out a huff.

Billy put your book back on the desk softly and gave you a wink.

That’s when the war started.

After your final class of the day, you headed outside for a cigarette and to put your stuff in your car. You watched as a group of boys hopped on their bikes and took off towards the woods. Mr. O’Connell saw you and watched as you smoked your cigarette.

“Y/L/N! Detention! Now!” The groan that escaped from your throat was loud and you killed the light of the cig under your boot. You headed back inside only to be fretted with Steve’s face.

“Sorry Y/N. I’ll see you later.” He walked out, joining Nancy and walking to his car. You’d also have to explain to Joyce why you were late on your first day.

You headed into the classroom where detention was held, seeing a couple people already in there. You flipped down in the only isolated desk left, and stared at the paint chipping off of the white wall.

“Well hey there.” You didn't even bother to turn around and entertain him. “Y/N?” He began playing with the sleeve of your jean jacket and you ripped it from his grasp.

“Fuck off Billy.” The malice in your voice was thick, and you thought it might’ve worked until he started running his finger along the back of your neck.

“Hargrove, I will break every finger to put on me. Try me.” You whipped around and slapped his hand away. Y/E/C eyes stared at his baby blue ones, noticing the mischievous look they were giving off. “Seriously, leave me the hell alone.”

“But you’re so fun to mess with. C’mon Y/N, I’m just playing with you. It’s supposed to be fun.”

You thought that if he was any closer, he might’ve been able feel the heat radiating off of you. The anger began bubbling in your veins and you gave a bitter chuckle.

“No, it’s not fun. You’re just choosing to be an asshat. Leave me alone, or I will kick your ass. I mean it Hargrove, you will be sorry.”

With that, you stood, ignoring the cries of Mr. O’Connell’s protests and flew out of the classroom. You made a beeline for your car and lit another cigarette on the way. The cool air was a huge contrast from your skin. You hopped in, shoving a Scorpions cassette in your radio and took off towards Melvald’s.

This is why you hated people.

When you arrived, Joyce was happily restocking a shelf and humming to herself.

You walked in, the chime above you catching the attention of Joyce.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here.” She wiped away her bangs from her brow and gave a big smile.

“You ready to get started?”

For the next couple hours, she walked you through the many steps of working there. Apparently she’d been working here a little over ten years, and knew all of the ins and outs of the small business. The phone began to ring, and she excused herself. You really think you’ll like it here, it’s quiet and no people.

She came back in a hurry, her face had a worried expression plastered on it.

“I’m sorry to leave you here by yourself, but I really need to head home. My youngest son..isn’t feeling well.” You immediately began wagging your hand at her and shaking your head.

“It’s not a problem. Really.” With that, she grabbed her purse and headed out. Her tires squealed as they ripped out of the parking spot and she took off.

You looked around and sighed at the lack of presence. You reached down and grabbed your book, immersing yourself in that to keep occupied until close.

__________

@speedmetalqueen @asheseiler @ietss

[foxtophat]

here’s chapter 4!!! it’s been about a week and a half, two weeks since John Seed reappeared, and now nick is ready to take his vengence!  by... having john do basic tasks to repair the homestead.  hey, this isn’t eden’s gate -- what do you expect, skin flaying and long-winded religious diatribes?  (weird, that’s exactly what john expects, all the time, from everyone!)

i really love this story and am so thrilled that other people seem to enjoy it too!!! it’s fun to write, and since i know it’s just full on self-indulgent bullshit, i don’t feel guilty for not being ~~realistic~~ about the whole thing.  fuck it! nick is a pacifist now!!!

i’ve included today’s chapter under the cut so you don’t have to leave tumblr if you don’t want to.  if you’re enjoying this story, please consider reblogging so your friends can also enjoy my hellscape! or, you know, do what makes you happy, it’s not like i can force you to ruin your aesthetics blog on my behalf. stay frosty my dudes, i’ll see you in 2 weeks!

Well, John doesn't die. Despite that being the only good thing the man could possibly do, he manages to hang on through the first night, looking better before the week is out. It's a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Nick no longer feels like he's serving a skeleton its last meal; on the other, it means that John is more than likely here to stay. Every time Nick goes to give him food, he finds the room just a little bit more lived in, the tarp turning into a makeshift bed as John struggles to settle in. Just yesterday, Nick had noticed a short series of tally lines scratched in the wall, marking each day of his sentence as though he were confined to solitary.

Nick should probably be happy with how smoothly things are going. He should probably be glad that John is keeping quiet and politely recuperating without so much as a snide remark. It's what he wanted, after all — for John to wave a white flag and agree to an unconditional surrender. And yet Nick can't help but feel short-changed, as if John owes him at least one opportunity to punch him in the face for being an asshole. It used to be something Nick dreamed about doing; he'd fantasized about beating him to a bloody pulp even as John had ripped his skin from his chest. Now, he's not willing to deal with the guilt that would undoubtedly follow.

Nick wishes he could go back to his "fight everyone" thirties. Being a mature adult sucks.

It's bright and early one morning when Nick decides it's past time to do something about the ceiling, which is warped and sagging beneath the nursery. Nick suspects it's a cracked joist, but considering his lack of carpentry skills, he doubts he can do anything to repair it. Right now, all he can do is try to support the weight of the second floor with something other than a wish and a prayer. Thankfully, he saved some of the posts when he dismantled the back porch — now if only Kim weren't going to be busy all day with Carmina, they could actually get some work done.

Except, maybe not!

John has been looking a lot better these past two days, since all he's been doing is resting and regaining his strength. Nick's heard him rummaging around at night, and he's been making himself something of a nest out of the crap left with him. Nick's even heard him talking, although it's anyone's guess who he thinks is listening. Considering how quiet and withdrawn he is when Nick brings him his meals, he doesn't seem interested in what real people have to say.

Honestly, if Nick hadn't been an integral part of John's survival for the past week, he'd think the whole thing was some kind of ploy. Nick's not sure what John would be planning with this act for sympathy, but he isn't going to make the same mistake he did all those years ago and write him off as some rich, coked-out jackass with no thoughts to his name. He's not going to let John sit around and finalize whatever evil machinations he's got brewing in his mind. He's gonna work that sad-sack until the only thing John's thinking about is collapsing from exhaustion.

Nick doesn't reveal his plans until after breakfast. He doesn't want to ruin his favorite meal of the day, not when he can rest aimlessly beside his family around the table, eating ham and eggs while Kim brews coffee. It's the closest they'll ever get to the way life used to be, and Nick can pretend that everything is back to normal as long as he has a cup of coffee in hand. Hell, it's not like watching his eight-year-old daughter methodically clean the family rifle during breakfast is all that weird for Hope County, with or without the apocalypse.

It's probably a good thing that Carmina is distracted. If she realized today was the day John would be seeing sunlight, she'd refuse to go anywhere until her curiosity was satisfied. They've told her as little as they can get away with, given that they're keeping a man prisoner across the hall from them. Mostly that he's a very sick stranger who could make little girls very sick too. She'd bought it for the most part, but Nick's afraid that she won't be able to contain her curiosity for much longer.

"Think I'm gonna get some stuff done while you're gone," he tells Kim, glancing significantly towards the stairs while Carmina isn't looking. "We need to deal with the second floor sooner rather than later."

"Are you sure?" she asks, raising her eyebrows meaningfully back at him. "Is this something you can do on your own?"

"Better to not put it off anymore," Nick replies. "It'll be easier if I have the place to myself, anyway. Less, uh, confusion."

That said, he puts the chore off for almost half an hour after Kim and Carmina head out. He tries to prepare, but there's not much he can do to close off the exits, and it only takes a few minutes to drag all the necessary supplies into place. All he can do at this point is hope that John is only strong enough to help, and not strong enough to run at the first chance he gets. If he does that, Nick's going to have no choice but to shoot him.

Nick does his best to hide his nerves as he unlocks the door. It feels weird to knock so he doesn't, pushing the door open slowly enough for the hinges to creak. John should just be thankful Nick bothers to try giving him any sort of head's up.

John, ungrateful bastard that he is, sleeps through Nick's entrance. He's found the cheap wool guest blanket that Nick would never dream of actually offering to guests, which seems fitting. His shirt is crumpled next to him, leaving Nick with the unfortunate view of his bare torso.

Nick's seen John shirtless a few times now, but that doesn't make it any easier to stomach. His skin is stretched over his jutting shoulder blades, clinging to every sharp, bony angle of his spine. Nick knows there's not much else for it to cling to - he's seen the way John's stomach sags, too much skin with not enough meat to hang on to. It's all been eaten away from months, maybe even years , of malnutrition and inactivity. The only thing left of the man Nick remembers is a goddamn shadow. Looking down at John, Nick's left to wonder how he had survived at all.

Nick nudges John unkindly with his boot, ignoring the grunt of discomfort he gets in return. "Come on," he snaps, "It's morning. If the sun's up, you're up — this isn't the goddamn Hope County Hilton."

John groans, biting his tongue against whatever snide comment might come to mind. That's too bad — Nick would love to start today off with an ethically-sourced beat-down.

Even though he wants to, Nick refuses to look away as John sits up, revealing all of his tattoos and scars. The tattoos are nothing new, and some of the scars look pre-Collapse old, but John obviously didn't let the bunker curb his self-mutilating tendencies. Some of the tattoos have been ritualistically carved out, leaving flat slabs of scar tissue behind. Others have been scratched out less completely, seemingly at random. The worst part is seeing the ten deep, half-moon gouges in his shoulders, leaving behind raw, fresh scars. Nick can only imagine what led to their creation, but he would really rather not.

"Put your shirt on and eat quick," Nick tells him, setting the plate near enough to John before retreating to wait by the door. The more space he has between them, the better. If John is going to pull something, Nick wants to have room to grab his gun, or at least to brace for a fight. And anyway, John still eats like a mongrel and it's uncomfortable to watch.

"Time to put me to work?" John asks skeptically as he drags his shirt over his torso.

"You bet," Nick replies. Should he be a cagey dick about it? Part of him thinks so, out of spite, but realistically he should temper John's expectations. Nick isn't going to be capable of putting John through the kind of torture he's probably expecting. So, he points out the dipping corner and says, "This whole floor is gonna give out if we don't do something about it. Well, I say we , but I mean you ."

John regards the spot with more skepticism. "That's it?"

"You haven't even seen how much of the house you're going to be digging out of the dirt," Nick points out. "Come on, hurry up already, I don't have all day."

——

Despite being sick as a dog, John's strength is still something to be reckoned with. Nick watches uneasily at first as John makes short work of clearing space for the beam to stand, heaving shovelfuls of dirt out the open window without regard to his wasted muscles. If John decides to come at him with that shovel, it's going to be Nick's reflexes that save him, not his brute strength. Nick's reflexes aren't exactly the best these days, so Nick hopes it doesn't come to that.

It doesn't seem like John is interested in fighting, though. Nick sets him to work with the shovel and he takes it up without so much as a snide comment about Nick trying to order him around. He slings dirt silently, practically zoning out over the manual labor as Nick watches from his side of the room. It's almost like he's in a trance or something, and it's only broken when the shovel scrapes against the wooden floorboards. He comes to a sudden stop, staring at the floor in surprise. He looks up and around, fixing a sour glare at the wide-open back porch that Nick is standing guard in front of before finally looking at Nick himself.

"That's it?"

"Hell no, it isn't," Nick sighs, gesturing towards the beam that he'd dragged in from the woodpile outside. It doesn't rain much nowadays, so it hasn't gone to rot, and it should be just about level with the supports in the ceiling. Plus, it's already got the right hardware attached, and most of it even survived the nuclear blast.

"Come on," he tells John, "You're putting this up."

Still no backtalk, not even as Nick gets his own hands dirty and helps John prop the beam up. He remains silent as Nick fastens it in place with the only three-inch bolts left in America. It's a temporary solution, but Nick's proud of it anyway, and he steps back to admire the work. He has to admit, even if John is planning something, at least his plan involves actually being useful.

"That should work for now," he says. He scratches the back of his head as he regards John — what does he do with the guy now? It seems like a waste to just... jam him back up there. He's obviously capable of working, and that's what Nick said he'd do — break his back with manual labor, right?

"Well, now that we're done with that... I guess you can get to work shoveling the rest of this dirt outta here. It's been pretty low on the list, but it's not like you've got anything better to do."

"No, I suppose not."

"Hey now, what happened to just saying yes ?" Nick grins, feeling mean but still pretty funny for it. John scowls, but he's just not the right audience for the joke, so his opinion doesn't count.

" Yes, sir ," John replies. He's probably just being a dick, but the way he says it roils Nick's stomach on impact.

"Hey, none of that shit," Nick snaps, even though he probably should lean into the boss role while he can. "Just — don't be a fucking weirdo about this, okay?"

John frowns and doesn't respond. He doesn't need Nick to instruct him any further, returning to work with the shovel as though he's forgotten he ever stopped. Nick keeps an eye on him as he has lunch, waiting for John to drop the weird, quiet obedience act that he's been putting on. It has to be an act. John's just using their mercy for his own ends, using them for shelter and food while waiting for the opportunity to strike. To take the house and the guns, to take control of everything that he'd felt so obligated to eight years ago.

An hour goes by in silence. John works steadily, almost meditatively shoveling down to the floorboards, dumping shovelfuls of dirt out the nearest window to him. He's lost in his thoughts, so much so that he doesn't seem to notice as he clears out nearly half of the living room, the shovel scraping against wood like the beat of the drum that's distracting the poor motherfucker.

Eventually, Nick can't help but point out, "You don't talk as much as you used to."

John doesn't so much as look at him, which is more irritating than Nick wants to let on. What, is he supposed to shut up now, too? Forget that !

"I mean, you used to never shut the fuck up. Guess even you couldn't stand listening to yourself for eight years solid, huh?"

John grunts in response. He doesn't look so hot; his face is pale and drenched in sweat, and he seems to be relying on the shovel to steady himself. Nick squints, trying to figure out whether or not the guy is trying to pull a fast one on him — it's exactly the kind of thing Nick would do, if he were being held captive — but John doesn't seem to notice Nick's scrutiny at all. He seems miles away from the house, from himself.

Goddamn it. The more Nick watches, the less comfortable he becomes. "Alright, come on," Nick sighs, exasperation masking his discomfort at seeing John near-fainting. "That's enough for one day, now sit down before you fall down."

It's a toss-up which of those options John takes, but moments later he's flopped backward into the mound of dirt. He leaves streaks of mud across his face where he wipes away the sweat. Nick watches, waiting for the asshole to spring his trap, but John looks sincerely too beat up to try wrestling the gun away or making a break for it. His hair, thick with dust, clumps over his face, dropping into his eyes no matter how many times he tries to smooth it back.

To his personal horror, he finds himself offering John his canteen. He should leave John to drink his own spit with their fresh water supply as low as it is. It's what the man deserves. But they've wasted too much time and supplies on John to be stingy with the water now.

"Don't get too comfortable lying in the dirt," Nick points out, "I'm gonna put you back before Kim and Carmina get home."

John nods without complaint. He takes careful sips of water, like he's trying to mind how much he's taking, which is a fucking riot coming from the guy who did nothing but take, take, take for years.

"It's the nursery, isn't it?"

Nick stares down at the dirty bastard in confusion. "What?"

"The room," John repeats with a suspicious lack of irritation. "It was going to be the nursery."

Nick scowls. "Yeah," he says. "Not that it ever panned out."

John holds the canteen out for Nick to take back, which he does. "No," he admits, "It certainly did not."

"No thanks to you." Nick takes a thirsty swig of water. "None of you got a chance to raid our bunker, but there were a lot of other people who weren't so lucky. Lots of people didn't even have a house to hide in."

"Yes," John sighs, "I know."

The nerve John has to brush aside the damage he's done momentarily overwhelms Nick, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's chucking the canteen at John's head in a vicious game of dodge-ball that John just barely wins. "No, you don't know. You managed to find somewhere to survive for eight years, while good, honest people were left to rot away on the surface and suffer through nuclear winter because you burned down their houses, you stole their supplies, you ruined their lives! You destroyed everything before the police ever showed up! You sorry assholes kept talking about the Collapse while all of us were already living through it! Because of you ! You know ? Fuck you!"

Nick reaches his hand out to grab John, to — to strangle him, to shake him , anything to stop him from sitting there and staring cow-eyed up at him. Waiting for Nick to exact a physical price for all the anguish that he's caused, waiting for the inevitable retribution that he deserves.

But eight years is a long time to carry so much righteous anger. Nick must've set it down somewhere along the way; now that it's time to resume that bitter loathing, he finds himself coming up short. Honestly, he's too goddamn old for it. He's too tired. Eight years of fatherhood and living past the end of mankind has run the rage right out of him. The idea of expending that much effort just exhausts him. What would even be the point? John isn't even worth it.

"Just — get up," Nick sighs at last. "Kim'll be back in a while and I... don't want to look at you anymore."

John slumps into himself as he stands, shoulders caving in as he avoids looking higher than Nick's boots. He proceeds without complaint or comment up the stairs; despite that, Nick still braces himself for a surprise attack, his hand clinging to the holster. He stops at the doorway behind John, waiting for some trap to spring and feeling oddly put out when nothing happens.

"I'll bring you dinner later," Nick tells him. "From now on, you're only getting a second meal on days you work."

John nods in response, falling into his makeshift bed with as much grace as he had the dirt pile downstairs. Nick's not sure he's gonna be awake the next time he checks in, but that's probably for the best. Nick doesn't like watching the guy eat, and he hates having to interact with him.

When John fails to say anything, Nick uses his silence as an exit and quickly locks John away. He'll probably sleep until dinner, which means he'll spend all night muttering to himself again. That's just what Nick needs.

There's still time before Kim gets back with Carmina. Nick drags the dining table into the living room, taking a minute to marvel at the amount of dirt John managed to clear out. Maybe tomorrow, Kim can take Carmina on a hike or something so that he can have John do the rest of the room. Once the dirt's all cleared out, they'll be able to build proper doors for the back porch, instead of leaving it open to the elements and potential prison breaks. After that, who knows? Maybe they'll be able to string lights up in here like they did back at the Spread Eagle. They could actually find a use for the generator. Hurk was on the radio recently, boasting about party liquor and gasoline — maybe they could barter for fuel?

Thinking more than a year ahead is jumping the gun a little, especially considering they have to get through another winter without heat, but this is the first time Nick's let himself imagine that far. Kim is already prepping for next year, of course, but Nick's still a little stuck on bunker time, where everything felt like a tightrope walk to survive and keep sane. But now, well — there's floor space, and Nick's even stacked plates and silverware on the kitchen counter for dinner. It's progress that he can't miss, and for once he breathes a sigh of relief and actually feels relieved.

Kim and Carmina come back before dusk with three rabbits and, in Carmina's case, a turkey so big that it nearly drags on the ground as she carries it on her back. "Shot it herself," Kim tells him, dropping the rabbits on the table. She does it almost without a second thought, wrapping her arms around Nick before realizing, "Oh, the table's back!"

Nick grins. "Figured we could use the extra space. Look at you, kiddo!" Nick turns his attention to Carmina, who still has the turkey slung triumphantly over her shoulder. "That is one big bird."

"Yeah," she says, trying to look as casually confident as her mom. She can't help but brag, "It was coming right at us. I had to do something. "

"That's my girl," Nick says, "I need somebody to protect your mom whenever I'm not around."

"Hey," Kim protests, playfully shoving out of her supposedly loving husband's grasp, "I can protect myself, you two. Carmina, take that thing into the kitchen and start plucking."

Heaving a very exasperated sigh she must have lifted off of her dad, Carmina drags the limp poultry away. Kim watches her go with a satisfied smile, telling Nick, "She's got great eyesight. I didn't even notice it in the grass."

"Thank God. Can you imagine if she needed glasses out here? We would be royally screwed. So! What do you think?"

Kim looks back at the clear floor and the table with four legs on solid ground. "I admit, I'm impressed," she says. "I expected to come back to a funeral pyre. But look, you even got the support in!" She furrows her brows at him. "Did you have any trouble?"

"Nah. Actually, it was... uh, painfully easy. He didn't put up a fight or anything."

"Hmm."

Nick's not sure what Kim's thinking as she eyes the progress that's been made. Maybe she's wondering what John's endgame is, the same way Nick wonders. She's probably worrying about how to explain it to anyone who might ask about it — Grace, mostly, maybe Jerome, if he'd ever come out this way. Nick's sure he can just take credit and leave it at that, but maybe she's seeing some hidden angle that he hasn't caught on to yet?

"If we string some lights up in here," Kim points out thoughtfully, "We might actually be able to use the bottom floor, instead of camping outside all day."

"Hey," Nick laughs, "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Am I supposed to pluck this whole thing myself ?" Carmina exclaims in horror from the kitchen.

"I'll be right there, honey," Nick calls, offering Kim a chair at the table. She takes it with a grateful smile, leaning into his hand as he briefly strokes her hair. "Not bad for a day's worth of work, huh?"

"Not bad," Kim agrees. Nick heads for the kitchen, unable to keep from humming some old-world song he can't remember the words to, happy to put aside his doubts about John for a couple of hours yet.

[shooter-nobunagun]

Quarantine UST 5

//Seriously, writing for such a sustained stretch is...unprecedented...I think I haven’t done this since the beginning of my intro into this fandom. Maybe this period of time is good for something after all.

And yes, I definitely binged my way through FF7R as soon as it came out...

The days seemed to pass in a blur; yet as Sio woke up after another night of binging Netflix with Jess, it felt like nothing had changed, either. She’d adjusted to the rhythm of her new life fairly well: sleep in until 10am or so, leisurely troop downstairs for breakfast after brushing her teeth⁠—usually Adam was already up and frying some eggs, or sometimes they picked up coffee and pastries from a local cafe⁠—clean up, then she might go for a walk outside or spent some time in the yard while catching up on emails and texts from her family and Asao-san. By then, Jess and Mahesh were usually awake, and they’d all gather again for lunch (or in the other twos’ case, brunch), and afterwards Sio usually would do her training, either by herself or under Adam’s watchful guidance. Then it was free time (which usually involved another stroll outside), dinner, sometimes a group activity, and then everybody retired to their rooms for the night.

Recently, the group started venturing out a bit more; at first it was just to the local cafe for drinks and snacks, but yesterday the group’d gone for another grocery run, this time at the farmer’s market. Even with all the restrictions in place, Sio was glad to be able to spend some time outdoors again, and picking from the wide variety of fresh produce was much more fun than going to the grocery store.

Yawing, the sniper continued lounging in her bed, absentmindedly scrolling through her texts from last night. Her parents were doing okay (actually most of Japan seemed alright by comparison) though obviously they were concerned about her health and safety. Asao-san’s latest couple of messages contained the usual news and gossip, although the last one before she signed off left the sniper blushing and covering her face.

[Asao Kaoru]: By the way, how are things with Jack-san? You two seem to be getting awfully close... (ΦωΦ)~ Did you get any more peeks in during training?

“Moou, Asao-saaaan!! I-It’s not like, that!” The sniper screeched, tugging her hair. “Jeeze, why does everybody keep assuming we’re gonna...hook up or something like that...” 

Admittedly, her own brain wasn’t helping matters; at this point, she’d given up on denying her attraction towards him⁠—besides her nightly little ritual, she’d already had at least one...steamy dream involving him and no clothing. “Ugh...why do I have to make things so complicated...”

‘I just want to get to know him better, not get a crush on him! Besides, knowing him, he probably has a girlfriend waiting for him back in London. Or at least, had one...unlike me...’ A cool, good-looking guy like him who was the epitome of the tall, dark and handsome type? Sio looked down at her own flat chest, unfashionable haircut and childish face, and sighed. ‘Yeah right; I’d never stand a chance. He’s probably got way more experience and prefers girls who look like Newton...’

The thought depressed her more than she expected; even though she knew her chances were slim, and that shacking up with your platoon leader probably wasn’t the best idea, the thought of not getting any closer than just friendly teammates made her heart sink straight to the ground. ‘I know I’m just a below-average high schooler, and I don’t even have anything going for me except my e-gene; but even I can still hope, right...?’

She moped about all through her morning routine, not really bothering to fix her hair or wear anything aside from putting on a pair of shorts (why bother, it wasn’t like she was cute or anything). Walking into the quiet kitchen, she pulled out a box of cereal and some milk, sullenly eating her cold breakfast.

“Good morning, Sio dear. Oh goodness, is something the matter? You’re looking awfully peaked...you don’t feel ill, do you?” Jess came down the stairs, Sio a bit surprised as it was unusual for the blonde to be up before noon. “Hmm, you don’t seem feverish...”

“Oh, good morning, Jess-san.” She heaved another sigh, not really interested in finishing the rest of her soggy bowl. “It’s, nothing...I’m not sick, I guess I just feel...”

“The quarantine blues?” The sniper nodded, and the blonde patted her shoulder sympathetically. “There there, it’s perfectly normal. Things are unprecedented, you can’t expect to keep your spirits up all the time in a situation like this.”

“Yeah, well...I guess I’m surprised I’d let it get to me. I mean, all things considered, it’s not like we’re suffering or anything. There’s a lot of people who have it way worse than us...”

‘Yeah, and here I am moping about because I have the hots for my platoon leader even though I don’t stand a chance...’ 

Jess nodded in sympathy. “Definitely, I can see that. But you know, that doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad, either. I can’t say the past week has been much of a vacation, despite what Mahesh likes to claim. Feeling down about everything that’s been going on is understandable, and it isn’t healthy to pretend otherwise.”

“True...thanks, Jess-san...um, I guess it does feel a little better to talk about it.” Sio stirred her cereal a bit, surprised that she was finally having a true conversation with the blonde that didn’t involve a fear of tongues and kisses (mostly).

“Of course, dear. I apologize for my earlier behaviors...but I am still serious when I say I do want to be there for you, should you ever want another ear,” the blonde smiled kindly at the younger girl. “By the way, where is Adam? Don’t tell me he’s still asleep?”

“Eh? Adam-san...uh, I dunno. He’s usually here by the time I wake up, so...” Sio shrugged. “It’s not like I checked his room, but maybe he went out for something?”

As if on cue the front door unlocked, both girls turning around as Adam walked in, bag in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other. Sio rushed out to the foyer to help him unload and disinfect the door, keys, etc.

“Speak of the devil; we were just wondering about you,” Jess commented as Adam finally took his seat at the table. “New place this time?”

“Yeh; was checking out local places online yesterday and thought this might be a nice change of pace.” He passed out the drinks; only Mahesh’s chai latte remained untouched as the trio started unwrapping pastries and other baked goods. “Ogura, you’re alright with tea, correct? They didn’t seem to have anything like sencha, but I got jasmine, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, yes please; and thank you, Adam-san. You could’ve waited for us to get up,” Sio offered as she took a sip of her beverage. “I kinda feel bad for making you go all by yourself...”

“Eh, it’s fine. Even I like taking a break from cookin’ once in a while.” Their leader shrugged as he drank his coffee (pure black, no sugar or cream). “Besides, it’s nice to get some fresh air when it’s early in the morning. Also less folks t’ dodge...swear to god, every time we go out it’s like playing a game of Frogger...”

Sio sweatdropped, but it was true; as much as she cherished her daily walks, there was a reason why she preferred running on the treadmill. Trying to avoid other passerby who were also exercising or walking their dogs and also not getting run over by traffic... It was a good thing the yard was decently sized, and the days were slowly starting to warm up. The sniper glanced out the windows, where the golden rays were starting to bathe the garden with their yellow hues.

“Actually, I’m gonna eat out in the garden. The weather’s been so pleasant lately, might be nice for a change.” She took her tea and croissant with her; to her surprise, Adam followed. “Oh? Did you...also want to eat outside?”

“Why not; like you said, today seems to be shaping up to be pretty nice...would be a shame to spend it all indoors, again,” he gave her just a the slightest hints of a smile, and Sio felt her stomach fluttering with butterflies. Maybe she wasn’t insane for thinking it would be possible? Maybe?

“U-Um, s, so, how was the rest of the city?” She was stuttering again, much to her dismay; didn’t she get over this already?

Adam didn’t seem to notice, or at least, he didn’t comment on it. “Hm, mostly the same; not that many folks about, but all the better for me. At least we can still get takeaway and drinks.” He finished the rest of his cup. “I was surprised Jess’ up so early; usually she and Mirza sleep ‘til past noon...”

“Heh, me too.” Sio grinned as she finished her croissant. “Mm, this croissant is super flakey...so good...” If it weren’t for their training and exercise, she was sure she’d have gained at least 5 pounds by now. Even in the midst of a pandemic, San Francisco’s culinary scene did not disappoint; and that wasn’t even counting their cooking nights.

“To be honest, I’m more surprised you’ve been able to stick to a decent wake-up time every morning,” Adam teased, “considering someone always had to wake you for a morning meeting back at the Logan...”

The sniper nearly spit her tea back out. “H-Hey! Well, you’re always banging on my door every other morning anyway for some thing or other...so I figured, I might as well just save us both the trouble and get up anyway,” she pouted, cheeks tinged with pink. “Besides, those meetings were way early; if there’s one thing that’s better about this, is that I can at least sleep in a little...”

Adam smirked behind his sandwich, glad the sniper couldn’t see his face. For if she could, he was sure she’d be able to notice the warm flush spreading across his features, including his ears (mercifully hidden by his hair). She was adorable, really; the innocence of a girl, yet she was surprisingly insightful and able to see a clear line from point A to B, without being bogged down by details. ‘Not to mention that wit, when she actually works up the courage to talk back,’ he noted, recalling many of their previous conversations where she’d sparred with him using nothing but words.

Cunning, intuitive, determined and sincere; it was amazing how quickly his opinion of her changed, not just since she joined but even from the beginning of this quarantine. Hardly any of her quirks seemed detrimental now; silly at most, and charming at best. Was this what poets meant by love causing you to see everything through a rose-tinted lens? Even her appearance, which most people would probably consider average at best, gave him a flurry of feelings whenever he thought about them: large, round maroons, that cute bob with uneven bangs that could probably use a trim soon, and her slender, lithe figure... Adam swallowed and tried to turn his mind away from more lustful thoughts, but it was useless. It was obvious she was probably the most flat-chested female holder next to Geronimo, but it didn’t detract his attentions at all; if anything, he felt it suited her quite well. Once he’d caught a glimpse of those salacious photos Capa had distributed, and they gave him a bit of a shock—her willowy frame saddled with two huge water balloons that seemed to defy gravity, nevermind the fake, prancing-around poses the clones took.

All-in-all, good things definitely come in small packages, he decided. In fact, the smaller the better. Sio wasn’t that short, but her slight frame made it seem so, especially compared to him. He’d never paid attention, but Adam was sure the sniper would probably be just the right size for spooning, cuddled between his arms and those petite breasts could fit just right in his palms—

‘Hoo boy, stop right there Adam; you should not be thinking of your fellow holder in such a manner...’ But even his inner consciousness sounded half-hearted, as if it were just repeating things because that’s what was expected. And maybe it was right; even now, he still quarreled with himself on whether or not he should even pursue anything beyond friendly camaraderie with the girl. Her ambiguous feelings towards him aside, what if they got in trouble? What if it ended up interfering with their duties as e-gene holders? Or worse yet, what if it didn’t work out and the subsequent fallout ended up destroying their entire platoon?

“Adam-san?” He jerked up at her voice, having been lost in his own turmoil for the past couple of minutes. “Are you okay? You seem kind of...glum.”

You’re not wrong there, he almost said, but only shook his head. “Nah; just thinking about...stuff.”

The sniper nodded. “Yeah, I get that...I’ve been, kinda thinking on a lot of stuff too...”

Now it was Adam’s turn to be surprised. “Oh? Somethin’ else botherin’ you lately?”

“Ah uh, I mean nothing really...specific,” Sio squirmed, caught off-guard by his question. There was no way she could admit her burgeoning feelings for him. “I just...guess the whole pandemic situation is kind of getting to me, even though all things considered, this isn’t that terrible. But somehow things just feel...off.”

“Yeh, I get that too, sometimes. But I mean, this isn’t exactly a normal situation; people are sick and dying, we’re stuck in this house and still have to do our best to try and maintain a ‘normal’ life—and that’s not even counting the Objects mounting another attack at any minute.” Adam cut into the remainder of his muffin with a knife. “It’s normal to feel distressed about it—hell, I think I’d be more concerned if you weren’t...”

The sniper nodded, though she didn’t seem keen on finishing the rest of her pastries now, instead fiddling around with her fork. Adam felt a bit guilty; he hadn’t meant to ruin her nice garden breakfast with something gloomy like the virus. Especially not after they’d managed to have a normal, decent conversation.

“Hey uh, squirt? Y’know, if you need some time to yourself, you can skip your training for today,” he offered, the sniper blinking in surprise. 

“Oh...I-I mean, it’s fine, you don’t have to make an exception for me; it’s not like I physically feel bad or anything...”

“Don’t worry about it; I wouldn’t want you around that equipment when you’re all distracted like this, anyway. Last thing we need is an accident,” Adam muttered. To be sure, she’d definitely improved quite a bit, but sometimes he still did worry about her.

“...Are you saying you don’t trust me to handle myself?”

“...I’m just taking precautions.”

“Hnnn...” Sio didn’t say anything more, instead sullenly sipping the rest of her tea. 

Adam sighed inwardly. Why were girls so fickle to deal with at times? “...By the way, not sure if you’re interested, but one of our other care packages finally arrived, and they got our request for a game console plus some of the latest games, so...”

He didn’t finish, but Adam could tell by the way her eyes gleamed the second he mentioned the word Playstation. ‘Ah, so she’s also a gamer...’ Somehow he wasn’t surprised; it seemed natural that a military otaku would also be into video games, though he was curious if she played genres other than shooters or military sims.

“...What sort of games did they send?”

“Oh, I haven’t gone through them myself yet, but I’d assume a pretty wide variety...why, was there anything in particular you’re looking forward to?” Adam replied nonchalantly, testing out the waters. Maybe this would be a good opportunity to spend some time with her in a casual setting...

“Nothing really, but I mean, if there’s something good...” Her eyes shifted a bit over the edge of her drink, meeting his for a second before they darted back down at her plate. “I’ve been hearing a lot about Apex Legends...the guys from the Fifth Platoon are always talking about it.”

“Hm; I’m not that interested in battle royale types; I was actually thinking more along the lines of action RPG or adventure...”

They surreptitiously looked at each other for a few more seconds, before Adam suddenly got up.

“...You wanna go take a look, squirt?”

“...Okay.”

The two fast-walked back into the house, rushing by Jess who looked at the two in surprise and a yawning Mahesh, whom Adam barely had time to point to his drink—“don’t blame me if it’s cold, it’s not my fault you slept in”—and straight into the living room, where the 70-inch flatscreen sat in pristine condition, having only been used as a Netflix machine thus far. The package was still unopened, Sio carefully wiping it down first as Adam sliced the box open with ease.

“Oooh, what’s this? Looks like a headset...wait, oh my god is this one of those VR things everyone’s been talking about?” Sio’s eyes glittered with excitement as she dug around. “Wow, I wanna try it out later!”

“Let’s see, here’s the PS4,” Adam carefully set the machine up, along with its cables, “and as for games...well, looks like they did include Apex Legends, so if you want to give it a shot squirt, go ahead. Other than that...Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, whatever the latest iteration of Call of Duty is, Devil May Cry 5—that might be fun—Monster Hunter: World, and...well well,” Adam let a low whistle, “what do we have here?”

Sio looked over his shoulder, eyebrow raised as she read the title. “Final Fantasy 7...wait, isn’t this game super old?”

“Look closer, squirt; it’s the remake. I don’t know how those bastards managed to pull it off with everything that’s going on, but I know what I’ll be playing tonight.” Adam tried not to sound too eager, but it was hard; Final Fantasy VII, while already dated by the time he was old enough to enjoy video games, was still considered a classic, and he’d secretly been hoping for a chance to play it as soon as it was announced.

Sio looked on in wonder as Adam diligently set the rest of the system up. He seemed much younger for a change, almost like a puppy instead of a wolf. His boyish enthusiasm was charming, and Sio felt like she was seeing a part of his true self, for once. It made her feel warm all over, but not in a horny way; rather, it was the joy of seeing him genuinely happy for once, instead of shouldering the burden of being their leader. ‘So I was right about him being a gamer...I knew that Metal Gear Rising t-shirt was more than just a coincidence.’

“Well, I guess I know what we’re playing then...” Now that everything was finally ready, she took a seat on the couch next to Adam; both sets of eyes now glued to the giant screen as the opening sequence panned over the in-game city of Midgar, the classic theme blasting from the speakers.

Though Sio didn’t know much about the Final Fantasy series (famous as it was, she preferred her games with more bullet-hell sequences and tanks), within a few minutes she could see why it was so revered, and why Adam was so excited. Movie-quality graphics aside, the action was tightly-paced and almost non-stop, Sio getting more engrossed herself as Adam deftly controlled the action on-screen. Before either of them knew it, it was past lunchtime; the only indication any time passed at all was Sio’s stomach complaining rather loudly after Adam finally got Cloud & co. past chapter 3.

“Whoa, I didn’t know it was so...cool,” Sio sat down to their late lunch (Chinese takeout), still in a bit of a daze at her mind replayed the action sequences and storyline. “No wonder it’s so popular...”

“Oh yeh; holy hell, they did a banger of a job remaking it,” Adam dug into the boxes with relish, barely paying attention to what was going into his mouth. “Shit, the graphics, characterization, soundtrack—and the overhauled ATB system is amazing—”

“I like the characters a lot! They look so realistic...well, as realistic as anime characters can get,” Sio mused, remembering the intro with one very well-rendered Cloud Strife. “So, I’m guessing you like a lot of JRPGs then...?”

Adam nodded. “I do, but I’ll play pretty much anything, honestly. I think the only genres I don’t do are racing and puzzles.” He shook his head, emptying the rest of his plate. “You? I prefer it when the action’s hot, bonus points if it’s got a great story.”

“Uh, I don’t play that many RPGs in general, but sometimes I do if it’s really good. But uh, yeah, I...prefer shooters like Ikaruga, or Biohazard—er, I think they call it Resident Evil outside of Japan? Oh, but there was that one series that came out a while ago, and I was surprised because I also liked the plot a lot...it’s called Bioshock?” 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised to hear that; a military otaku like you, would be shocked if you didn’t have some type of shoot-’em-up as your top three,” Adam smirked, Sio laughing sheepishly. “Anyway, if you wanna start your own file while I’m working out, go ahead; like I said, you should take a break today, get some time in for yourself.”

“Ah—oh, uh, okay...thanks,” Sio trailed off as Adam left, presumably to change and then train. “Well...guess I’ll try playing by myself.”

The console booted up, and soon the sniper settled into a comfy pile of cushions, learning the battle system based on what Adam was doing earlier. While years of shooters—first person and otherwise—had honed her reflexes fairly well, Sio had to admit this system of ATB, materia, and character swapping was a bit of unknown territory. Luckily the game was generous with tutorials, but she still struggled a bit against her first real boss, after the beginning section was over. She groaned as the ‘game over’ screen flashed, kneading her temples. 

“Man, I thought I had it! What happened...did I not use the right skills?”

“You might wanna check your materia slots, squirt. Those’ll matter a lot in the coming battles.”

A low, husky tone breathed right next to her ear, and Sio nearly jumped out of her skin. “Aaagggh! A-Adam-san, don’t do that! You scared the crap out of me...” She protested, hugging a pillow to her chest as Adam chuckled.

“Sorry squirt, but I was curious to see how you’d do. Didn’t wanna interrupt the fight, though seems like you’re gonna need to retool your party’s materia and gear first.” When he left, Adam was curious if the girl would continue playing Final Fantasy, or pop in another game. But it seemed Cloud Strife’s fabulous chocobo-locks had worked their magic, and he returned from training to find the sniper valiantly trying to defeat the motorcycle-crazy Rosche.

“Hrrm...I don’t really know what some of these descriptions mean. Magic I get, but things like MP up? Chakra?”

“Budge up a bit there, squirt, and I’ll give you some tips.” The sniper scooted to make room for the silver-haired man, as he plopped himself onto the couch and took the controller. “First off, always get HP up; more health never hurts. And then of course, healing...”

Sio nodded, but in reality she was only half paying attention. Adam was sitting right next to her, along with those chiseled muscles still glistening with sweat as his shirt clung to those washboard abs...swallowing thickly, she forced herself to listen to his advice, but even his scent was distracting; there was sweat, but it wasn’t offensive, mixed with a rather musky odor that she couldn’t quite place...

“—and this should be a pretty good setup,” Adam finished. “Uh, squirt? Ogura?” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Oy, snap out of it; what’s gotten into you? 

“A-Ah—huh? Hai? I-I’m, fine...” Adam raised an eyebrow, but Sio snatched the controller back before anything else happened. “Th, Thanks for the advice...I think I’ll be able to get him this time...”

Adam blinked. “...Alright. Well, good luck then.” 

‘Was she checking me out?’ Though he tried not to rouse suspicion as he left, he’d definitely noticed Sio staring at more than just the screen while he’d been redoing her party members. ‘And I’m pretty sure she wasn’t randomly looking around the house.’ Oh no. The sniper definitely had a long way to go if she wanted to be more discreet about her little voyeuristic habits. 

The thought of their innocent little sniper actually being not-so-innocent made him hot all over again, and Adam groaned, because he knew this was the kind of heat that couldn’t be solved with simply a cold shower.

“Bloody hell...” ----- “Well, it sure seems like you two have found your quarantine activity,” Mahesh commented at dinner that night, both the sniper and the Ripper arriving long after the food arrived. “Sorry, we just went ahead and ordered some stuff we thought you’d enjoy.” He pushed their respective bentos towards the other two. “But it’s Japanese tonight, Sio, so hopefully it’s up to your standards.”

“Mmm...oh man, it’s so nice to eat Japanese food again...” Sighing with delight, Sio eagerly dug into her chicken karaage, potato salad and white rice. “A-Ah, that’s not to say the food we’ve been getting is bad or anything, it’s been really fun to try a lot of different cuisines and taste everybody’s home cooking too...”

“This is really good; I guess they weren’t kidding about San Francisco being a melting pot,” Adam nodded in approval. “Good thing DOGOO’s footin’ the bill...I wouldn’t fancy being the one having to pay for all this.”

“Just like they’re paying for all your gaming purchases?” Jess smiled knowingly at the other two, who proceeded to turn oddly pink. “What are you two playing anyway that’s got you so engrossed? It must be good, if you two are willing to skip dinner.”

“Oh, uh, it’s the latest Final Fantasy VII Remake! I’ve never played it before, but Adam has, and then I started playing it too and it’s just so good and the battles are super cool and it’s a lot of fun to play--” Sio started gesticulating wildly, chopsticks flinging rice haphazardly and Adam had to sternly remind her to not toss food everywhere.

“Oy squirt, calm down! Say it, don’t spray it.” He muttered, flicking a piece of rice off his shirt.

“And then they even sent a VR headset! Which I’m super curious about,” Sio finally finished her bento, so they could talk without the risk of food flying about. “You guys should try it out too! I-I mean, not that I’m forcing you two to play video games if you’re not interested...”

Mahesh hummed in amusement, looking at least mildly fascinated. “I’m probably a ‘casual’ gamer by yours and Adam’s standards, but I’d be willing to try out this virtual reality deal. I wonder how it compares with Capa’s illusions...”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Sio grimaced, still remembering all those inappropriate pictures Capa took (and then distributed, the nerve of him). “Pervy old man...”

“Well, certainly we won’t have to worry about that. Let’s all check it out, then; Jess, you in?”

The blonde nodded, though not without conceding that gaming wasn’t really her thing, but it might be fun to watch others. 

“I’m more of an analogue girl; I don’t care that much for all those flashy explosions on screen, but bring me a set of Catan or Dixit and I’ll play any day.”

Now the entire squad was circled in the living room, the large windows open for some fresh, night air. After some rigging, Adam managed to figure out how to configure an output so those who weren’t wearing the headset could see what was going on, via his laptop.

“Alright, now who’s our first lucky contestant? Sio-chan, since you seem so excited, why don’t you go first?”

The sniper squeaked, not being used to put on the spot. “M, M-Me? U-Uh, I’ve been playing a lot of games today, s-so, why don’t you or Jess try it?” She laughed nervously, hoping they wouldn’t force her to take center stage.

“Yeh Mirza, you seem awfully eager to see how it works...why don’t you give it a whirl,” Adam goaded. Those dark eyes seem to meet his in a challenge, before the Indian resolutely put on the gear.

Everybody else watched eagerly as the screen loaded up. “Whoa; I’m not going to lie, the graphics aren’t photorealistic, but it sure feels like you’re somewhere else,” Mahesh gingerly stepped around, everyone suddenly giving him a wide berth as he set up the boundaries. “Please warn me if I’m about to run into something, or someone; I can’t exactly see anything in the real world...”

“I wonder if we’ll ever get to the point where it’ll feel even more like we’re inside a different world,” Sio said quietly to Adam, as Mahesh started playing a rhythm-action game called Beat Saber. “I don’t like Capa, but I have to admit his AU weapon is incredible. When I was doing those training exercises, it really felt like I was in a jungle, or in the middle of Shibuya...”

“Maybe; but I think we’ve got a ways to go,” Adam responded dryly, arching an eyebrow as the Indian flailed his arms all over the place. “...Definitely a ways to go.”

After a couple of tracks, Adam couldn’t take it anymore; seeing Mirza’s piss-poor coordination and timing destroyed any sense of fun or pleasure from the thumping EDM/techno tracks provided by the game. “Alright, you’ve had your fun. Let me give it a try.”

“More like Adam can’t stand Mahesh butchering those songs anymore,” Jess whispered, and Sio giggled. “He doesn’t like talking about his hobbies, but I know for a fact he’s into these music-type games. Who else do you think petitioned to get that dancing revolution machine installed in the Logan’s workout room...”

Before Sio could fully realize that statement, Adam took over. He selected a track that none of them had ever heard of before, and despite this being his first time playing, immediately notched the difficulty up to Hard. “Someone’s tryin’ to show off, eh?” Mahesh teased, but that didn’t seem to deter the silver-haired man one bit. If anything, Adam was laser-focused on the track before him, slicing through the colored blocks flying past with coordinated ease, as if he’d memorized the track beforehand.

“Whoa, he’s so good...how the heck does he know where to slice and stuff? I can barely keep up with what color they are, let alone what direction to hit,” Sio murmured, staring at the neon-colored action in awe. “There’s no way...he hasn’t played this before, has he?” She watched as Adam completed another combo streak, his multiplier at the max of 8x. “What the hell...”

Mahesh shrugged. “Who knows; I don’t think so, since VR is so new, but that’s Adam for you. Always full of hidden surprises...and probably some he hasn’t even revealed yet.” The trio watched in silence until Adam finished the track, with an impressive score of A, to their fervent applause.

“Well that was an ace performance! Especially for your first try.”

“No kidding; what, can you see the blocks before they appear or something? Sure you don’t have some hidden ability to see the future?” Jess jokingly suggested, though for some reason Adam flinched a bit at the statement.

“...Ha ha, real funny. If you must know, it helps a lot when you’re familiar with the song...”

“Eh? Adam-san, so you like this type of music, huh? Electronica?”

For some reason the sniper’s question made him blush, his cheeks turning even redder than they already were from the faux-workout. “Uh, yeh...I listen to a whole bunch of stuff, just so happens I recognized this track, and uh, decided to give it a go...”

“Now now, no need to be modest! Music or not, you really are good at this type of stuff. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised, given how skilled you are on the battlefield...” Mahesh praised.

“Yeh, and it’s a good thing you’re a defender-type, not an attacker; otherwise we’d be long dead already,” Adam replied sarcastically, making a jab at the Indian’s less-than-stellar hand-eye coordination. “Anyway, I’m headin’ up; that took more out of me than I expected, and I want a quick rinse before bed. G’night.”

“Oh uh, good night, Adam-san,” Sio watched curiously as he climbed up the stairs. “I wonder if he’s upset about something...it’s not that late,” she glanced at the clock, which just hit 10:30pm. “Maybe he’s tired.”

“Or, more like someone’s just bashful. Don’t worry Sio, he’s not offended. I just don’t think he’s the type who likes being the center of attention all of a sudden,” Jess mused, as Mahesh picked up the controls again. “Ironic, considering he’s our de facto platoon leader.”

“Well, you don’t have to be outgoing to be a leader, I guess.” Sio nodded, reaffirming her thoughts. Adam was not the smoothest talker, but he had a certain charisma, especially on the battlefield. While Nobunaga’s e-gene was invaluable for strategizing, she wouldn’t deny that Adam knew how to adapt and call the shots, especially in the heat of battle. It was the same type of charisma she felt now, that inexplicably drew her towards him, despite his stoicism and sometimes abrasive words.

‘Though, he’s definitely less harsh, now. Not just his words, but the way he acts, around everybody too...’

He was a kind person, she decided. Probably just not used to letting his guard down, and Sio had a feeling that was partly due to his childhood, of being alone and having to fend for himself. ‘Kinda like me, except I’m just super awkward and terrible with talking to people in general...’

“I liked that song he played...I don’t usually listen to music without lyrics, but it’s really catchy. I kinda wanna listen to it again...” Sio pondered as the rest of the group finally decided to retire for the night.

“Why don’t you go ask him?” Sio blinked in surprise as Mahesh sidled up next to her. “He said he’d heard it before, right? Maybe he can share it with you.”

“Ah, I—uh, I don’t, wanna bother him with something trivial like that...” She laughed nervously, though Mahesh simply winked at her. She stopped short of the attic staircase right before the room, and looked up. The door was already closed, and he was probably already asleep, but Mahesh’s suggestion repeated itself in her mind.

‘Actually, maybe I will...after all, why not. I’ll ask him tomorrow...what kind of music he likes...’

If she was lucky, maybe he’d even offer to let her listen to some. Flushing hotly at the thought, Sio quickly went into her room and dove underneath the covers.

‘Ah Sio...what are you getting yourself into now...’

[chickennoodlesoupfortae]

Imagine

Resting with them while on break

a/n- this was a request. it was a lot of fun to write.

summary- what their break would look like with you

Warnings- none pure fluff

Word count- 1.8k

Jin

it had been weeks since the two of you had seen each other. 

you drove to the airport parking in a spot towards the back of the lot

you could see the reporters and cameraman in front of the gate. 

it was midnight and you were a little sleepy but filled with excitement 

you had on a pair of large frame reflective sunglasses and were wearing  black sweatpants matched with a hoodie of the same color and the hood was a shield against the cold a.c of the car.

you looked around making sure no one was taking pictures

you then looked to see the members boarding the cars sent by the company 

soon one of the black vans approached your car.

jin taped on the passenger side window as you unlock the doors

the both of you sat in silence taking each other in 

“I missed you,” you whispered 

“I'm here now for a while.” he gave you a bright smile that brought you to tears every time 

the both of you stayed inside cuddling for at least a week 

you would get back into your routine after a while 

Jin would work on his vocals and rest while you went to work 

both of you would eat dinner together almost every night

it would be another month before he got into his normal work schedule and he would enjoy just staying home and focusing on his side projects and you

Yoongi 

although sometimes being the most reserved person in the room he was completely and utterly in love with you

this meant that when he found out there was going to be a break coming up he decided it was time for a real vacation

you were sleeping when you heard the click of the door opening 

you weren't expecting him to come back so soon

“Yoongi baby you're back I missed you so much,” you said while rubbing your eyes voice raspy from just waking up

“pack your stuff! we're going on vacation.” he exclaimed

“I have work.” you lay back down not comprehending the fact that your boyfriend was back 

“Call in sick come on.” he jumped on the bed laying down next to you 

you began to snore already back to sleep

“(y/n) the flights in a couple hours and you're gonna love where we're going.” he uncovers you causing a shiver to run down your body and startle you awake.

you opened your eyes to see his shining in the dark with excitement 

“where are we going” you were still sleepy but seeing his face made you smile

“You'll see when we get there.” he smiled from ear to ear

you rolled on your back looking up at the ceiling “my boss is gonna kill me. Karen's gonna have to take over my shifts.” you laughed 

“I think you're burning up honey. Maybe you have the flu. I can tell this is a bad case. Two weeks of being out of the office” he placed the back of his hand on your forehead 

It was a long flight to the Caribbean 

you both laid in the white sand beaches for hours on end getting nice and tan

“Can we do this every break.” you sighed sipping on the colourful drink in your hand.

the sound of the crashing waves filled your ears the smaller ones brushing against your feet.

“yes,” he answered also sipping on his drink and getting all the sun he could so people would stop calling him so pale

Hoseok 

he was gone for so long you almost forgot the sound of his voice in real life

“I’m back.” you heard him scream as he ran to hug you in your living room 

“I missed you so much.” 

for the next month the two of you cooked at home and enjoyed each other's company

Although it wasn’t a big fancy trip or anything out of the normal it was nice to live a semi-normal life again

“It feels perfect here with you,” he said looking into your eyes while holding your hand and bending down slightly 

“It does.” you were both walking through the grocery store looking for a bag of instant noodles 

it was nice how moments like this felt romantic and fairytale-like when you were together 

it didn't matter where you were as long as you were together 

it was such a cliche but maybe you both loved that 

Namjoon

he didn't take breaks 

when he came home after a long tour you were prepared to have him still working late into the night and taking calls all the time 

You worked hard and took your career as seriously as he did 

this was exactly why the two of you were perfect for each other 

your favourite thing to do was to sit in silence in front of the computer working while he sat across from you doing the same thing.

that's what you did on most days 

this year the Joon has decided to spice the normal routine up by making an effort to go to every café in the city

“The coffee here is better than yesterday's,” you said taking another sip from the large glass

“Yeah it's stronger but it's still not better than mine.” he continued typing on his laptop.

“true.” you closed yours causing him to look up “let's go home. we can take the long route and you can make some of your coffee at home.” you put your laptop in your bag as he did the same 

both walked the scenic route enjoying the silence 

“It can't get better than this can it?” you head on his shoulder sitting on the couch watching the series you both were binging. you were blowing on the cup of coffee you were promised earlier.

“yes, it can. This girl can finally dump her boyfriend” he pointed angrily at the television 

Jimin

it had been such a chaotic year that he just wanted things to go back to normal or as close as they could get 

“let's just stay in today.” he pleaded. he held you close to his chest preventing you from standing up from the bed.

“I have to go to work.” you were so tired from falling asleep at five am waiting for his arrival 

“why don't you just stay five more minutes.” he knew what he was doing moving his hand up and down your back lightly kissing your head

“Ok five more minutes.” you dozed off

the both of you stayed cuddled in bed until two past noon

your eyes fluttered open to see his chest you snuggled yourself into it feeling the grip around you tighten 

“shit I think it’s been more than five minutes.” you heard him mutter in his morning voice even though it was firmly the afternoon 

“who needs a job anyways when you can sleep” you joked 

this was how most days went just cuddling and sleeping and eating for the first week and a half 

then your boss called you into her office and said your cat couldn't get sick every day for at the same time 

you both spent every hour together when you were home 

the activities were cooking, cleaning, watching T.V, talking about people you didn't like, saying you need to visit your parents, remember that you hadn't visited his in a while, and then deciding it was probably best to call. this repeated daily 

it was the best time you both had had in months just living your lives in a somewhat normal way

Taehyung 

He always took his breaks seriously 

taking it as an opportunity to reflect on his progress and step away from the media except for important events.

This year he had opted to go away for a week to a temple in Nepal 

“why do you want to go there?” you asked him when he had first proposed the idea. 

you had known him for too long knowing very well the two of you would be on a plan within the week

once he had his heart set on something it was impossible to convince him otherwise and the way he brought it up suddenly meant he had thought it over and was just telling you

“I think it’d be a nice change of pace and it's one of those things people have to do before they die.” 

as you thought within the week you were boarding a flight to Nepal 

it was an interesting week of sightseeing and “soul searching” as Tae referred to it as

“Should I shave my head,” he asked you while you were walking on the balcony of the room you had rented looking at the Himalayas 

“I don't think the world could handle that. they aren't ready for a ‘2007 Brittany’ V” you laughed at your joke.

He laughed at you laughing at your joke 

“Thank you for following me on my spiritual whim. I love you (y/n)” he smiled looking over at you

“I- bold of you to assume I didn't come here for my own spiritual needs.” he laughed this time at your joke. “I love you too, next time can you make us go somewhere warm and sunny with beaches instead of temples and island music instead of prayers?” 

“I promise next time I’ll let you pick.”

Jungkook 

It was a break and that's exactly what he wanted 

a nice period of rest with the people he loved and a step away from the media

This meant that you spent most of your time at home enjoying each other's company and occasionally the company of your friends 

both of you went out other than walking your dog and work only for visits with your families 

Jungkook spent most of his time practising his language skills and other hobbies he had picked up

“can we go get dinner,” you asked him wrapping your hands around his waist from behind 

“but what if someone sees us?” he whined 

you leaned your head into his back sighing “lucky them.”

“do you really wanna go?” he turned around putting both his hands on your shoulders looking into your eyes

“Yes.” 

Twenty minutes later you were eating tacos at the only Latin American restaurant around 

you had taco grease on your face and he stuck out his thumb to wipe it away

“what would I do without you.” you sighed giving him puppy eyes

You didn't know if it was the taco high or his fluffy hair that had you feeling so enamoured 

“I don't know.” he gave you the same look

there were always moments like this when you both enjoyed a simpler routine rather than the hustle and bustle of his work that many times controlled your lives

A/N- I’ve been trying a lot of new things lately regarding one shots and series. I’m not sure I want to post them cause they’re long but I really like the ideas I’ve been putting to paper. Mostly AU stuff. If you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading, check out my masterlist and reblog <3

[soysaucevictim]

Weeks 7 & 2.

-

Apr. 25

I got up a bit before 1PM.

First, today’s DD. 40 squat + step back with EC. This was just manageable.

Second, Day 37 of the 60DoC. Level 3, 1′ rest. Just manageable, but got me pretty winded. I did like how it starts more aerobic/intense and drops off in each set. Really liking the overall structure of this program!

Third, Day 7 of the C&AC. 3x push-ups to failure. Went for 24-18-12 again. Pretty challenging, might’ve been a bit sloppier than the past few days - but good enough for today. We try to tighten up my form again, next time.

Last, Day 7 of the DSC. I just did some jabs+crosses for the 100 - swapping stances at 50. A fun one, as usual.

I then did some dishes, made some dinner, worked on my WRAP, and eventually got some more art progress in.

Didn’t get to bed on time, even though I had every opportunity to do so. But given productivity, I wasn’t so upset about that.

-

Apr. 26

I woke up around the same time as yesterday, proper.

First, today’s DD. 40 plank-knee-to-elbows with EC (from knees, 20/20.) This was relatively breezy work, does take a bit of focus to remain balanced. But that made it enjoyable.

Second, Day 38 of the 60DoC. Level 3, 1′ rest. Those jumping lunges were pretty much the sole reason for not keeping the rests shorter. Got me pretty bushed and I regretted just having ginger snaps beforehand. :P

Third, Day 8 of the C&AC. 4x20 shoulder taps. Decided to heed the given rests again. It takes a bit of resolve to keep the plank still and not rock.

Last, Day 8 of the DSC. Same approach and experience as yesterday.

I spent a good deal of the rest of my day archiving some fit log entries and making a therapy journal entry covering mid-Feb to end of March. That took a lot more time and energy than anticipated, but it was necessary.

Despite that, I was able to get to bed in the yellow zone.

-

Apr. 27

I woke up a bit before noon today. (Yay!)

First, today’s DD. 1′ flutter kicks with EC. I counted 90 reps by the end of it - 1.5/sec was a p good pace. But it was a bit of a case of “how many seconds left, already?“

Second, Day 39 of the 60DoC. Level 3, 30″ rest. After a false start plus the first couple sets - I wasn’t sure if that amount of rest was sustainable. But after warming up as I went + digging in, I was able to get  to the end. Arm raises were a nice breather moment, but did take some juice out of my arms.

Third, Day 9 of the C&AC. 3x push-ups to failure. 24-18-10, again. This was certainly made a lot tougher because of arm fatigue - but I got through it (not with the most stellar form, but whatever.)

Last, Day 9 of the DSC. For today’s 100 punches, same appoach as the past couple days. But unlike them - accrued muscle fatigue did make things less breezy (despite still being fun to do.)

Did some dishes, made some dinner, chatting, and art progress afterwards.

Barely got to bed in the yellow zone. I will take it.

-

Apr. 28

Another day I got up before noon again.

First, today’s DD. 40 side bridges with EC (20/20). This was a bit of a challenge, but manageable. It’s a bit funny to try to switch sides as quickly as you can.

Second, Day 40 of the 60DoC. Level 3, 1′ rest. Everything was relatively okay, except them squat hops. Quads and especially haves got real tired. Did have a few moments flirting with that bliss point that jacks seem to create - but alas the load didn’t hit that Goldilocks Zone.

Third, Day 10 of the C&AC. 4x22 shoulder taps. Pretty simple and relatively breezy - because the arms had plenty of juice after previous workout.

Last, Day 10 of the DSC. Didn’t do anything fancy/different this time. But it was pretty fun, as usual.

Spent some time chatting and reading after that. Took a pretty late shower before going to bed (in the yellow, again.)

-

Apr. 29

I woke up around the same time again.

Spent time on the usual before heading out to the laundromat to get laundry done (sick of dealing with the Uncle at this fucking point). Listened to some Sawbones while I folded up my laundry and got going with my exercise.

First, today’s DD. 2′ squat hold punches with EC. This was right intense, especially after the first 1′. I counted 275 reps by the end.

Second, Day 41 of the 60DoC. Level 3, 1′ rest. I didn’t look forward to the up & down today. I opted to do all transitions in steps.

Third, Day 11 of the C&AC. 4x push-ups to failure. 24-18-12-6. This was rough and got a bit sloppy. Especially when stacked on top of the main workout. Took awhile to get the ears to feel okay - so that load might not have been the best to target (given the added set).

Last, Day 11 of the DSC. After a good few minutes sitting on floor to get various pressures to stabilize, I went for it. Nothing otherwise different about the experience/approach.

Afterwards, spent some time chatting, fiddling with Habitica, and listening to Sawbones. But, I did get to bed in the yellow zone again.

-

Apr. 30

I woke up closer to 11AM, today.

After a bit of YouTube, I went into today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD.20 raised leg crunches with EC. Manageable, form was just okay. But I felt good enough to count it.

Second, Day 42 of the 60DoC. Level 3, no rest. This was made possible by being mostly march steps and entirely pretty low-impact work. Nice step down from yesterday.

Third, Day 12 of the C&AC. 4x24 shoulder taps. Not much worth noting other than it was doable work.

Last, Day 12 of the DSC. Did nothing fancy/creative with my punches, today. But I do still enjoy doing them!

Spent time watching YouTube, listening to Sawbones, and some art progress.

But, for once I barely got to bed in the green zone.

-

May 1

I woke up before noon again.

First thing I did was today’s DD. 2′ jumping jacks with EC. I spent the start going deliberately slowish to find a pace I could sustain, but I find myself going faster anyways. I counted 118 reps by the end, very nearly hit 1/sec on average. But it was no less intense.

Afterward, spent time fixing up the family the next Hello Fresh meal - Cheesy Portobello Mushroom Cups. This was just middling. Might do better in stemming the mushrooms a little more. I personally enjoyed it well enough.

Then, I found myself helping a family member down from an anxiety spike. And I felt kind of accomplished?

Did some work putting together sleep data and making a therapy journal entry for April.

Watched the new Sanders Sides episode with a friend (who I recently got them interested in it.) Which, let me tell you, was DENSE with ideas to chew on. I loved it.

Last things I did before bed were dishes and trying out another gratitude challenge for the month. I barely got to bed in the yellow zone, but I’ll take it for what it is.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 26a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention.

-x-

The next couple of months passed without incident though Duffy became increasingly reluctant to venture far from the house. Partially out of fear of running into Andrew again but mostly because the effort involved was just too much.

She lay awake in the early hours staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. Today marked the beginning of week 28, a milestone that struck fear into her as this was the point when, only a few months previously, Emily had been born.

Charlie turned over onto his side in bed, his hand reached out in his sleep and rested against Duffy’s stomach.

She sighed, the movement succeeded in waking one of the twins who started kicking furiously against her father's hand.

The movement woke Charlie up too. He mumbled, “Sorry.” He moved again onto his back, “Didn’t mean to wake one of the twins.”

"Its ok. I was awake anyway." She sighed. "Go back to sleep."

“What’s on your mind?” He asked as his hand found Duffy’s.

"Who says there's anything on my mind?"

“You’re awake? And it’s—“ Charlie looked at the clock, “Three fifteen.”

"I'm seven months pregnant with twins, it's par for the course." She deflected.

“That’s true.” He smiled sadly, “Sure there’s nothing else?”

"You try sleeping well when you're this big!" She pointed out as she struggled to roll over and get comfortable again.

“You’re gorgeous.” He kissed her cheek.

She let out a breath as she finally settled onto her side facing him, the effort of the movement and the lack of space to fully expand her lungs conspiring against her.

He kissed her lips. “Feeling okay?”

"Trying to remember what it felt like to be able to breath properly."

“Not many months left now.” He replied.

"I'm not sure I'll make another 7 weeks." She sighed. Her doctor had suggested performing a planned section delivery at 35 weeks to try and avoid the risk of her going into labour naturally and subsequently putting too much strain on her heart.

“I don’t think these two monsters are ready to make an appearance just yet. Not like trouble.” He reassured.

"I keep thinking I can't possibly get any bigger and then another week rolls by." Despite the advanced stage of her pregnancy she'd put on little weight elsewhere. The only exceptions being that her cheeks were a little chubbier and her bum was slightly bigger.

“It’s nice to know they’re growing healthily though.”

Duffy was about to reply when Emily started to cry from her cot.

“I’ll go.” Charlie said.

"Thanks. She'd be waiting forever for me to get up!"

Charlie got up and went to Emily. “Ssh, what’s all the noise?” He asked as he picked her up and cuddled her.

Duffy huffed as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Is she hungry again? All she seems to do at the moment is eat!"

“Growth spurt?” He rocked her before placing her down on the changing mat.

"Seems that. I took her to get weighed yesterday and she'd leapt up the chart."

He laughed, “Definitely takes after her daddy.”

"Between you and the kids I'm surprised we have any food left in the house!" She chuckled.

“I don’t think we always do.” He admitted.

"And whose fault is that?" She laughed as she held out her arms to take Emily now that she had a clean nappy.

Emily grumbled as she was placed into her mum’s arms. “Mine.” He answered with a cheeky grin.

Duffy laughed. "Can you go make her a bottle?"

“Of course.” Charlie kissed both Duffy’s forehead and then Emily’s before he disappeared downstairs to make a bottle.

She bounced Emily to distract her whilst she waited to be fed. "You can't keep waking in the night like this when the twins are here you know! Otherwise your daddy and I will never get any sleep. Your daddy has a very important job so that's not OK you hear me?"

Emily smiled and continued to grumble.

"You really do take after your father - not listening to a word I say!" Feeling the little girl's gaze on her she sighed. "I really don't know how we're going to get through these next few weeks. Don't tell your daddy but I'm scared."

Emily frowned, not that she had any idea what her mum was telling her.

"I've been trying to put on a brave face for everyone... Pretending that I'm OK but even the slightest twinge makes me terrified."

Charlie had come back up but paused outside the door, Duffy not aware he was there.

"I can't shift this nagging feeling that something terrible will happen." She paused. "If something does happen I want you and your brothers to know that I love you all so much. I..." A tear ran down her cheek.

Emily placed her hand against her mum’s cheek. Charlie stepped into the room, “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Duffy jumped. She hadn't realised he was there. "How long have you been stood there?"

“Not long.” He smiled, handing her the bottle as he got back into bed.

Emily snuggled close to her mum as she drank from the bottle.

“I have a good feeling,” Charlie said quietly.

"About what?" She asked, not quite meeting his eye.

"About everything. You and the babies."

"You heard the doctor just the same as I did though."

“I did.”

"How can you be so confident then?"

“Because I don’t think these babies want to come out early. Not like trouble. I think we can definitely get to the 35 week mark.”

"I hope you're right." She replied as she moved Emily to wind her. Moments later the little girl let out a loud burp.

“Excuse you, Missy. That was loud.” Charlie laughed.

"She's showing off." Duffy giggled.

Emily giggled sleepily and then yawned. Resting her head against her mum’s shoulder.

A few minutes later Duffy passed the sleeping tot back to Charlie to settle her into her cot.

He held her for a few minutes before placing her down in the cot. Within moments she was fast asleep, tiny little snores coming from her.

Duffy fidgeted slightly on the bed as she attempted to get comfortable again. She let out a frustrated sigh and attempted to rearrange the pillows.

“Do you want a hand?” He asked as he came back over to the bed.

"Please." She sighed.

Charlie helped Duffy rearrange the pillows that were on the bed. “Better?”

She mumbled sleepily though her back was still niggling her slightly. “Love you.” She sighed as she felt his hands on her lower back.

“Massage?” He whispered

"That would be nice." She murmured. "No funny business though!"

“Funny business? What kind of funny business?” He kissed her neck before he began to gently massage her lower back.

She giggled at the sensation of his lips on her neck.

He did it again, his teeth scrapping against her skin lightly.

She couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips.

He ran his tongue against her neck.

"Charlie!" She admonished with a giggle.

“What?” He smiled.

"I said no funny business!"

“I’m not.”

She chuckled softly feeling the drowsiness calling to her. Under Charlie's ministrations she was quickly asleep.

The next thing she knew it was morning. They were awoken by the sound of the doorbell.

Half asleep, Charlie threw on his dressing gown and went downstairs with the keys. He unlocked the door and opened it slightly - the door on its chain. “Hello?”

"You need to sign for this sir." The postman explained.

“What is it?” He yawned.

"Letter for a Ms Duffin sir. Looks official."

“Ok.” He took the door off the chain and signed for the letter. He wondered what it was.

By the time Charlie returned upstairs Duffy had grabbed her dressing gown and wandered onto the landing. "Who was it?" She asked.

“Letter for you.” Charlie handed it to her.

She studied it briefly. Please let it not be a court summons! She then noticed that the postmark wasn't local. She opened the letter and began to slide it out. As she saw the header on the letter she bit her lip and looked at Charlie anxiously.

He watched her as she took the letter and opened it. Catching her eye, he smiled slightly. “Is everything ok?”

"Its from the genetics lab." She whispered.

“Oh.” Charlie swallowed.

She glanced over at Peter's bedroom door before gesturing that they should head downstairs.

He nodded and went downstairs, he suddenly felt sick.

Reaching the lounge she slowly eased herself down onto the sofa. She took the letter fully out of the envelope and began to read it.

He sat down next to her and ran his fingertips up and down her arm.

Reaching the end of the letter she placed it down on the arm of the sofa. As she turned to Charlie a single tear slid down her cheek.

He gently wiped away the tear, “It’s ok. If the result isn’t what you expected, it doesn’t changed anything.”

"He's... He's..." She stammered.

“Andrew’s?”

"No." She took a steadying breath. "He's your son. He's ours, properly ours." More tears began to cascade.

Charlie wrapped his arms around Duffy and held her, “That’s brilliant!”

"All these years I've wondered... And now I know."

“I’ve always wanted him to be my son.”

"Did you suspect he might be?"

Charlie nodded.

"Why did you never ask me?"

“Because I didn’t want to ruin things.” He mumbled.

The silence between them stretched out for several moments. "Five kids growing up calling you daddy. That's quite a brood!" She giggled softly.

He laughed. “It’s a good job I got the snip then, isn’t it?” A couple of weeks back Charlie had eventually gone for his vasectomy, putting an end to his and Duffy’s spells of baby making.

"If its worked!" She snorted.

“We’ve just got to use contraception for the first 13 weeks.”

"Well that's rather a moot point currently."

“Well there’s no need whilst you’re pregnant with the twins.”

"I'm not sure the doctor would approve of such behaviour anyway!" She giggled.

“Good job the doctor doesn’t know what’s going on then, isn’t it?” He grinned.

"Do you really want to tempt fate? You know what happens when we do that!"

He laughed gently, “We... You always end up in trouble.”

"Hmm... You get all the fun and I get all the hard work!" She snorted.

“Exactly.”

"Never again." She told him as she shot him a glare, a playful smile on her lips.

“Sex, never again?”

She pondered the idea with a grin.

“I guess I’ll just have to get used to my right hand.”

She pouted.

“Unless I get used to your hand?” He smirked.

"So predictable!" She giggled with a shake of her head. She slowly, awkwardly, pushed herself up from the sofa. Grabbing the letter from the arm she headed towards the closed door.

“No I’m not!” He countered.

[blaperile]

Homestuck Epilogue(s) - Prologue (page 2)

Live reactions to page 2 of the Epilogue beneath the Read More!

[rydenstories]

I found a journal in my hotel room

REDDIT

My girlfriend and I are just finishing up road tripping around the US, seeing concerts, attending festivals, visiting landmarks, etc. As you can imagine, we've seen a ton. It's been great, but by the time we started our long journey back to our home state, the trip had taken a lot out of us. Not just physical exhaustion, we'd nearly drained our savings for the trip as well. The plan had always been to drive straight through, taking turns at the wheel while the other slept. With tension rising as time passed, the plan quickly changed and we looked for the cheapest (but still nicest) hotel we could find.

Later, we found ourselves pulling up to the building directly next to the highway that would be our haven for the night; a cheap chain hotel with a bright sign that read "NIGHTLY $4O, WEEKLY $200" and a giant parking lot nearly packed full of semi-trucks. There are two more hotels on the same side of the highway underpass similar to this, two gas stations, and a fast food restaurant. The crowning feature of this small area, however, is a goliath stone cross that almost looms from the other side of the highway. It towers over everything, including the church that stands behind it and is illuminated by two bright white spotlights. To be truthful with you, this SOUNDS very odd when typed out but after weeks of driving past countless places like this, it's all just something I've come to shrug off as very mid-west.

The lobby wasn't packed like the parking lot, but there were more people wandering around the main floor than I'm used to seeing in near any hotel. Mostly gentlemen, reading books, eating cup noodle, watching the news, and chatting joyfully. It actually kind of reminded me of living in the dorms during college. Very friendly environment. I found myself surprised at how just... nice everything was for how not nice you'd expect it to be, you know? Still, we didn't really pause to reflect on that before checking in and quickly rushing to our room. My girlfriend did a quick check of her side of the bed and was asleep within minutes, but even with how tired I felt, I couldn't bring myself to go to bed so early and decided to check over the entire room.

Fairly clean. Carpet was really new, too. Not bad for the price. I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling satisfied enough. Still, I pulled out the nightstand drawer, more-so to satisfy my curiosity about hotel bibles than anything else. Instead, there is this dark blue composition notebook. I've been reading it for a little while now.

It seems to be a journal, with many of the entries summing up the mostly uneventful days of the writer, a truck driver with a wife named Lynae. The writing itself is really messy and although I can tell that the author is deeply thought and well spoken, many of the larger words are spelled phonetically; smart, just not book smart. The journal is really full and some of the earlier entries are really interesting, detailing run-ins with hitchhikers and feuds with other drivers. The entries stop very abruptly and the last few are particularly unsettling. I can't be entirely sure, but I think those were written in this room. These are the last few entries. I've copied them down and done corrections to make it overall more legible, but otherwise I haven't changed anything.

___________________________________________

July 27th The money is in and it is good! I knew Bone would come through for me on that last haul. Now I just gotta get the rig back home! I'm glad I finally have the money to stop and rest in a real bed, too. The old cabin just ain't as comfortable as it used to be. Maybe that's what I'll be fixing next! I called Lynae and let her know I was coming home and she near squealed over the phone. I'm thinking now's the time to get her that pretty ring. Anyway, I saw Monty again today and asked if he was gonna return my MP3 player but he just kind of shrugged me off. It was pretty damn rude, actually. Knew his parents didn't teach him manners. He just got up in his truck, wasn't even gonna stick around. Weird actually, he almost always sacks up for the night, doesn't like driving after dark. Oh well, hope he enjoys a nice night drive! All over nothing!

Anyway, seems time to hit the hay! I'll be headed out tomorrow morning and I'll hopefully be home for supper!

July 28th Woke up this morning with the worst kind of headache. You know the kind that stings behind the eyes, burns your nose? Awful. Soon as I got out of the bed, the nausea hits. Damn it! Happens after every long haul; I get some bug off some dirty oldie who ain't never heard of antibacterial soap and I have to sleep it off in some crummy hotel. Fucking figures. Anyway. Seems like this place is much less crowded than last night and near all of the fellas that are here are total strangers to me. I wandered around a little bit, went to the lobby and grabbed some good stuff from the snack machines. Hung out for a few minutes, too, but instead of the normal circulation of news and talk TV, the counter girl was watching some weird black and white film. I ended up just going back to my room, throwing up a little, and getting some sleep. I napped until now, which it's pretty late. I'm getting 1 AM on my room's alarm clock.

I went downstairs to grab some clean clothes from my rig and smoke a cigarette but the front and side doors of the building were locked. I didn't see any employees around though, so I figure they're on their late night break. I hung out down there for a while and waited for someone to come open it but gave up eventually. If I'm being honest, I was feeling a little uncomfortable. It was too damn quiet. Plus, that church changed the lights shining on that giant cross. They're red. What a weird color for a church to pick. I don't know, maybe the fever is just making me loopy and paranoid. I better try to get some more sleep.

July 29th When I woke up this morning, the alarm clock said it was already well past noon. I thought it couldn't have been right because it was still pitch black in my room, no light shining through the open curtains at all. I got up and sure enough, it was still pitch black outside. So I figured my clock was broken. I guess the fever's got me feeling more and more irritable since I got here, otherwise I don't think I would've even brought it up let alone complained, but I yanked the cord from the wall and left my room.

The lobby was still empty, door still locked, and no employees in sight. I rang the little bell on the counter but nobody came. Hell, I waited in that lobby for a damn hour and nobody came! I'm starting to feel worse, too. My head is pounding so hard and I can't get any damn medicine since I've searched high and low for an unlocked exit and found not a single one. I don't really have any choice except to lay down and rest. Tried to watch TV, but all it's pulling is the weather channel and black & white movies, so I guess I've been watching the weather channel for a couple hours now. I'm going to try to rest more.

Oh. By the time I turned on the weather channel, it was saying it was 2 PM. The clock for sure was not wrong, but I have yet to see any sign of the sun.

August 2nd It's still dark outside and according to the weather channel's date, I'm missing some days. My head is so foggy that if I didn't remember at least a little from the other day, I don't think I'd question the initial notion that I just... slept through it from being so damn sick! I'm not sure that's what this is anymore. I'm not sure what this is at all anymore and frankly, I'm scared as shit.

The bit I can remember is only a small sliver of time. I got up and near shit my pants when I saw that not only was the alarm clock plugged back in, the damn thing was set again. I remember checking the door to find that the privacy lock was sure enough in place. Unlocked it and I swung open the door but then it all goes blank after that. Now I'm here and it's more than a day later and there's some kind of music coming from somewhere. Searched for it but found nothing.

As for the cross, they turned the lights off all together. I went up to the fourth floor to get a good look outside. Seems like everyone just left... All the haulers.... Gas station attendants.... Highway drivers.... Everyone. My rig is the only one in the parking lot. I'm beyond scared... I could break out but I'm so weak.

Aug 3rd My door was open when I woke up. All the doors to all the rooms are open. People's things are sitting around but there are no people. I've stopped pretending that this is normal. Something is so fucking wrong here and I can't even find a single clue as to what's happening or why it's just me. I've slammed my whole body weight into doors, searched high and low for keys or any damn thing that might help me get out of here. Nothing. It doesn't even seem like there's a world out there anymore. Like something just picked the hotel up, emptied all the people out besides me, and let darkness swallow the rest of it up. I can't see anything beyond the parking lot. Somewhere out in the vastness, though, I can hear that music from yesterday. It's something low, with a lady's voice singing over a very slow and out of key piano. She sounds sad but I can't make out what she's actually saying. I think I would be more concerned if the noise itself didn't make my headache so much worse. Instead, I just feel angry.

[[The entries no longer have dates after this and I can only assume they are each separated by at least a day just due to the previous writing pattern, but who knows.]]

xxxx I've spent a lot of time wandering around the hotel. At first, I tried closing all the tenant doors again. It made me uncomfortable to see them that way, but as soon as I'd hear the latch and I'd turn away, they'd loudly swing open again. Scared me shitless, as you can imagine. Then, after a couple more times, pissed me off. Even despite my fucking throbbing headache, all of the rage within my chest spilled out of my throat in a torrent of screams. As you probably could guess. My screams haven't received a response beyond that same sad song that only gets closer. Or louder. I don't know.

I've started searching through the rooms. Going through people's things. I wonder where they are. Did they get to leave? Or did they go somewhere else? I'm still not sure. Does it even matter? Things are getting worse for me regardless what happened to them. 

xxxxx The parking lot is gone. It seems like the closer the darkness creeps towards this place, the worse my headaches get. I've tried to move to a higher room to get away from the darkness, but then I wake up back in my original room again. The weather doesn't play anymore, but the black and white film channel does. I've tried to sit down and watch it, but after a couple minutes, it ends up being far too painful. I can't... describe the pain. It's everywhere. It's in everything, god damn it.

xxxxxx First floor is gone. The cross is back though. It's illuminated in that same strange red light, taunting me from out in the darkness.

I've been through every inch of this damn place, trying to find some kind of haven away from this madness. I tried to go downstairs at one point. Into the darkness. My ears are bleeding now but I made it back to my room in one piece. 

xxxxxxx Oh god. Dear Jesus Christ. Her singing is now screaming. The piano is grating. I wanna go home.

xxxxxxxxx I think this very well might be it. If you'd believe it, the higher floors went before this one, making it damn clear that this has always been coming down to me. It's been coming for me since I got here. I think even Monty could sense it.

Despite having every light in the room on, as well as every single one I could steal from this floor, it just keeps on growing dimmer. The girl. She's not screaming anymore. She doesn't need to scream. She knows I hear her. It's like she's right over my fucking shoulder, whispering right in my ear. And just like that, someone is knocking on the door. Darkness is seeping underneath like black smoke and I know I don't need to answer. It's creeping over the pages, up my arms, shoulders, face, and into my mouth.

Lynae, I'll miss you. ___________________________________________

I'm really.... shocked. It could easily be.... anything..... but something between the too comfortable vibe in the lobby, the handwriting, and the overall feeling I've had since picking the journal up absolutely tells me that there's something to this. Now that I've got it all copied down, I'm getting my girlfriend up. We're taking this journal down to the front desk. God fucking willing, we're leaving as soon as we can.

[margarethelstone]

That Hopelessness of Mine

She was weary, she was sick, she was completely unable to focus. She, the Astrid Hofferson, the most hard-working student the University of Berk had ever taught, suddenly appeared to be perfectly indifferent to what was happening around her. Her life was an utter mess – and a ridiculously handsome, green-eyed stranger was the last person she needed to meet.” Hiccstrid modern AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

Chapter 4

“No, no, no… No!” she cried out in desperation a moment after her discovery, rummaging through her bag, frantically searching for the item she hadn’t even thought about half a minute earlier. "It has to be here! I put it inside this morning, and I had it with me at the University, it couldn’t just disappear. It must be here, somewhere!”

But it wasn’t.

Feeling herself on the verge of tears – again – Astrid grabbed her purse in both of her hands and turned it upside down, letting her belongings fall on the soft surface of the sofa, still fooling herself that it would allow her to find the wallet that was otherwise escaping her notice. She threw the empty bag on the floor right after and focused on going through its contents once more, and every next second just made her more convinced that it was indeed just another hopeless business.

“Alright, Hofferson, calm down,” she ordered herself eventually, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, hoping to at least get her own nerves under control. She wouldn’t resolve anything in a state of such panic anyway. “Did I really put it in my bag in the morning? Wasn’t that yesterday? I don’t use the bus and I didn’t visit the library today, so I really might have missed the fact that I didn’t have the wallet with me. Oh, and I haven’t eaten anything for the entire day, either -”

You did down that huge coffee in the afternoon, though, and it certainly wasn’t Ruff who paid for it.

“Oh, shut up,” she answered her own mind that apparently decided that she didn’t deserve that last resort of hope she was clinging to so fiercely, as she plopped down on a chair and slouched, hiding her face behind her trembling fingers.

She knew she was naive to think of it in this way, but it was just too much. Why did it have to happen to her? Now, when she had finally found some peace, when she had allowed herself to relax a little, this had to happen, shattering all of the prospects of spending at least a few idle hours without stressing over how pathetic she was. Now, however? No chance she would get any of that.

Her money, her tickets, her ID cards – they were gone, all because she couldn’t have crossed half kilometre long distance without losing her balance and falling on the ground like the miserable idiot she was.

She jerked up her head, eyes wide in astonishment.

Certainly, she must have left it there! Just a few hundreds metres away, where her bag strap had fallen off. Maybe she was being childish and naive again, but if she hadn’t noticed the wallet lying anywhere close to where she’d stood, it was more than possible that no one else had. It must have landed between the rotting scrubs that she knew grew next to the footpath in that particular place, and, apparently, neither she or her saviour was perceptive enough to have noticed it earlier.

Of course, her own silly agitation at the time didn’t help with that.

In a sudden rush of energy, Astrid jumped from the chair and hurried to the door, barely remembering to put on her shoes and coat before she left. Her hair was still wet and tangled, and she still didn’t have a hat to put on her head, but it didn’t matter. Right now all she cared for was her phone, her keys and this little bit of luck she needed so much.

Still, her wallet wasn’t there.

Not on the pavement, not in the bushes, not anywhere close to either of them. Like with her bag earlier this evening, she searched and searched, checking every inch of the ground twice, praying that she would at least find her ID cards if nothing else.

Screw the money she thought, pretending like she didn’t care, screw the tickets, the photos, the slim, flat flash drive I never used anyway.

Screw the green-eyed, handsome jerks that made her lose her common sense.

“What is wrong with me?” she groaned as the realisation dawned on her, making her despise herself more than ever before, clenching her fists and kicking the kerb, indifferent to the pain that spread over her foot in result. “He took it. Of course he took it. He played his role of a decent guy, gave me back all of the worthless notes and pens and kept the only thing worth keeping. And to think I was grateful to have met him today!”

Oh, she wasn’t pathetic. She was just plain, plain stupid.

“Did I really blush and stutter for this?”

Or maybe she simply was both.

She groaned for what felt like a millionth time that day and returned to massaging her temple, desperate to at least soften the pounding headache that was only growing with the passage of time. She no longer tried to fight her anger, knowing that it was the last thing that still kept her from giving up to the final frustration – frustration that meant nothing but tears and resignation, not to mention even worse physical condition. So she kicked, and she hissed, and she kept cursing the previous encounter that had undoubtedly lead to her current state.

It had taken good few minutes and a couple of snorts before Astrid calmed down enough to make any sort of decision. She looked around in the last impulse of hope. Nothing was there – and she painfully realised that it would remain in that way, no matter how much she wanted it to change.

Her sigh was almost theatrical this time.

“I really should stop that,” she muttered under her breath, tucking her lose hair behind her ear, brushing away her fringe that was getting in her eyes. She was surprised it hadn’t frozen by this time but then again, not much made sense on this sad winter evening.

Some December that was.

Refraining from scanning the area again, the girl turned around and, slouched under the heavy blasts of the howling wind, she took the first of the many steps towards her apartment.

Alright, she thought as she walked past a group of students who must have just finished the last of their classes. Alright. If that’s how it must end, then so be it. The best I can do is to get back inside and call the bank, the police, or whatever institution that could take any interest in me losing my documents. And then it’s bed, and it’s for real this time, and I am not letting anything else get in my way again -

Goodness gracious, she almost sounded as if she’d had anything to say about this.

“I do,” she drawled through her gritted teeth, gaining herself a startled look from a very surprised passer-by. She ignored him completely. “I might be talking to myself, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind, and until that happens, I’m the one deciding what and how to do about my life. And since I can’t do more than those calls, I won’t worry about it, not for a second longer. Good Lord, I really need some sleep.”

She reached to the pocket of her jeans in search of her phone, curious to see how much time this unplanned escapade had taken her, only to feel it buzz in her hand before she’d had a chance to have a good look at the screen. She frowned at the sight of her mother’s photo.

Ingrid Hofferson never called without a good reason.

"Mum? What's wrong?" she asked in lieu of a greeting, already sensing the familiar knot in her stomach that appeared every time she got nervous. Normally, a call from her mother would result in nothing but her surprise but feeling the way she did that day...

...she had already come up with the most terrifying scenarios.

"What happened?" she repeated before the woman on the other side managed to answer.

She heard her mother sigh in response. "Really, Astrid, can't a mother call her daughter without a reason?"

"You never do," was Astrid's quiet answer. She tried to sound calm but at the same time she was almost perfectly sure Ingrid already knew she was not. "We both know we're better off texting and you're always busy at this time of day. So, what's the matter?"

"Don't you be so sure, young Lady, or I'll make sure to call you every two days just to stir that confidence of yours. I may be getting old, Astrid, but it doesn't mean I don't know how to surprise my family. You should ask Dad."

"Mum," Astrid interrupted, the corners of her lips twitching. Her mother was way too cheerful - and naturally so – to be herald of any bad news and the girl felt herself relax at last.

"Fine," her mother muttered in a mock-offended voice. "There might be a reason this time. But I could still call you if there wasn't and there would be nothing special about it."

"Of course not," Astrid mumbled with a smile. "So, mum, are you going to tell me what that reason is or are you going to keep me in the dark until I burst with curiosity and beg you for details myself?"

She almost heard her mother grin. "That would not be an unwelcome change, you know. But as much as I'd love to hear you plead for anything, I don't have as much time as I wish, so I'll get straight to the point – do you or do you not recall meeting any tall, dark-haired, ridiculously handsome young man today?"

Astrid stopped in her tracks, astonished, unable to utter a word of response. Her mind was blank, except for one thought that kept ringing in it.

You've got to be kidding me.

"I – I don't" she stammered, somehow managing not to stop in her tracks as she did; again, the teasing expression that undoubtedly appeared on her mother's countenance was almost audible. "I mean, yes. What?"

"Well, well, looks like after twenty years of trying I've finally succeeded in rendering my daughter speechless," came Ingrid's merciless comment. "Even though I suppose it's mostly the man's in question doing."

"Why would you even ask me that, mum?" Astrid tried to regain some of her lost dignity. "This question itself is ridiculous, not to mention, awfully specific. So, why?"

"Because he's sitting in the other room as we speak. He came in about five minutes ago, claiming that he'd found your wallet on the pavement."

Now was the time for Astrid to halt.

"What?" was another educated exclamation of hers. "How?"

"He would not share any details except that he there when your bag fell on the ground and that even though you managed to gather most of it, you somehow missed the wallet – and that you'd left the spot before he noticed it himself. Now, I won't pester about how it's possible you didn't check for the wallet in the first place, because I know that things like that happen sometimes. What I want to know, however, is: how the heck could you run away from a man like this?"

Against herself, Astrid burst into laugh. "Mum, I swear, you're worse than Ruff sometimes."

"I suppose she already shared her thoughts on the subject?"

"Yes, and she was very straightforward about it, too."

"I knew there was a reason why I loved that girl."

Astrid chuckled again, and sighed. "Alright, your comments apart – why is he there? It doesn't make sense."

"I suppose he followed the only clue he had, which is the address on your ID. And as it happens, it's still your home address."

"Of course. But -" Astrid hesitated, feeling the sudden pang of guilt as she remembered all the accusations she had already made towards the guy who truly had done nothing but helped her. "You want to tell me he drove all that way to the suburbs just because of this?"

"Seems like it."

"Oh, brother."

She pressed her hand to her forehead. She felt so happy, and surprised, and a little lost for words, not to mention, more and more ashamed of how easily she had judged the chivalrous young man. And she still needed to decide what to do with the fact that said man was comfortably seated in her mother's living room.

"Okay mum, listen," she said eventually. "This is all wonderful news but if we don't make some decisions now, I will collapse on the ground from exhaustion in moments and nothing good will come for it anyway. I am too tired to come home today – so would you please just ask the guy to leave it with you for now and I'll come and pick it up tomorrow after classes? I'm sure he's dying to get rid of it, too."

"See, that's the problem," her mother opposed. "He seems determined to only give it back to you, personally."

Astrid felt her good mood die again. She did not feel like spending two more hours in a bus today. "Mum, it doesn't make any sense. Even if I wasn't tired, it would still take me way too much time for him to wait. I'd have to go back to the flat, get some money – I am sure he has better things to do."

"He doesn't want you to come, but to bring the wallet back to you."

"To me? Wait, you didn't actually give him my address, did you?"

"Of course not," Ingrid as well as snorted. "But he says there is no point in your coming here, since he needs to get to the centre anyway; he's pretty stubborn, you know. So... Maybe just name a place and I'll tell him to meet you there? Although honestly, he seems like the kind of guy that you could safely meet in your own flat. I wouldn't mind you seeing him like this, anyway."

"Mum!"

She heard her mother laugh openly then and only shook her head at her wonderful parent's antics. She resumed her stroll towards her block. "Okay mum, I'll tell you what: today has been horrible, and I feel like garbage, and I'm definitely not going anywhere right now – so if you could just send the guy to my flat, that would be great. And if he turns out to be a serial rapist and killer... Well, at least you'll know exactly how to describe him to the police."