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flowerfan2 · 3 years

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A story about a reunion, and everything that happens afterwards.

Chapter 16/20 - Read on A03 here.

Patrick reads the email over again, just to make sure, then he runs out into the living room to tell David.

“I did it.”

David looks up from his spot on the couch, his black-framed glasses perched on his nose. They’ve had a very sleepy Sunday morning, followed by a big breakfast of bacon and omelets, and David still hasn’t gotten around to putting in his contacts. Patrick loves him like this.

“What did you do?” David rises up from the couch, all grace and designer loungewear, and comes over to Patrick.

“I got a job.” Patrick isn’t sure if what he is feeling is relief, excitement, or equal parts of both, but it feels amazing.

David smiles at him and pecks him on the cheek. “Of course you did.” He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. “Sit down and tell me about it.”

“It’s just a consulting position, bookkeeping mostly, but for a company that works with start-ups and young entrepreneurs. And it’s decent pay, more than I was expecting for this kind of thing.”

“That’s great,” David says. “When do you start?”

“They want me right away.” Patrick can feel his smile stretching his cheeks. It’s the first time he’s felt anything but useless in so long, the way the people at this firm seemed to understand what he could bring to the table. Patrick accepts another kiss from David, and then pops back up off the couch. “I’m gonna call my parents.”

He goes into the bedroom and talks to his mom, then his dad, and then the conversation somehow gets derailed into a debate on whether buying new furniture for the lanai right now is a good idea or if they should stick with what they have for the time being. Patrick kind of likes the idea of making David go shopping for patio furniture with him, so he’s voting for the former. Finally they circle back to his job, his parents congratulate him again, and he gets off the phone.

He’s headed back to the living room, but pauses when he sees David in the guest room. David has a black leather bag open on the bed and his sweaters folded in careful piles next to it. Patrick’s stomach drops.

“David? What – what are you doing?”

David looks up. He’s dressed in his favorite armor, glasses discarded in favor of contacts, a fuzzy black sweater over the black jeans with the rips in the knees. “You said you were starting right away. You didn’t say where, but I’m assuming Toronto-”

“Toronto? Why would you assume Toronto?”

David’s face shutters further, and he turns back to his bag. “I know I said I’d go anywhere with you, but I thought you might at least give me a heads up, discuss it a little bit, especially if it’s not Toronto. I do have to deal with my apartment there at some point.” David turns towards him, a hand on his hip. “Do you even still want me to come with you?”

Patrick doesn’t know how this could have gone so horribly wrong, and he crosses to David, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Stop packing.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” David’s voice is rising, and Patrick shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere, not until we both decide we want to.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“David, we’re not going anywhere. I don’t have to go anywhere. It’s a remote job.”

David stares at Patrick, and Patrick watches as he mentally replays the conversation they’ve had so far. “You aren’t leaving?”

“No.” Patrick sits down on the bed, David frowning at him as he knocks over a pile of sweaters, but sits down next to him anyway. “It’s remote, part-time. A consulting gig. Varied schedule, but they think it’ll be about 20-25 hours a week, depending in part on how much their clients like me, and how well I can add value. I may need to go to the Toronto office a few times a year, for meetings or something. But I’m doing the job from home – from here, or wherever.”

David turns away, picking up his off-white hoodie and pretending to refold it, even though Patrick can tell he just needs something to do with his hands. “You should have told me that,” David says, embarrassed.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just got so excited.” Patrick leans into David, rubbing a hand on his back. “I’m sorry,” he says again, letting it sink in, letting David get his balance. “I wouldn’t make any plans for us without talking it over with you. I promise I wouldn’t. My plans wouldn’t be any good without you.”

David’s eyes flicker to his and away, his hands still wrapped in the halfway folded sweater.

“It’s true, David.” Patrick puts his free hand on top of David’s, calming their restless movement. “I don’t want any plans without you in them. I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.”

“You haven’t?” David turns back, searching his face.

“Nope. I told them I had to talk it over with my boyfriend.” Patrick’s taking a risk, throwing that word out there. But David had done it first last time, and he doesn’t think there’s really any question that it applies. He’s sort of glad that he hasn’t used it yet; there’s more of an impact now, when David clearly needs it.

David’s eyes go wide. “You did?”

“I did. So – what do you think?”

David shifts, and his demeanor softens, his walls coming back down. “I think your boyfriend needs to know more.” There’s a smile hidden in his cheek, an agreement. Patrick wants to cheer. David holds his gaze, and his smile escapes, mirroring Patrick’s own. “And then you probably need to ask for more money. There’s nothing wrong with asking for what you deserve.”

“You don’t even know what they offered me.”

“Whatever they offered, you’re worth more.”

******

Patrick gets up earlier than normal a few days later and shaves carefully, examining his face closely in the mirror. He doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t worked in months. He just looks like himself. And when he presents himself to David for approval, David’s smile courses through his lips and into his cheeks, his hands dancing to Patrick’s shoulders, smoothing down the thin fabric of his favorite purple dress shirt. He’s ready.

They set up an office of sorts for Patrick in the guest bedroom, shifting the bed to one side, moving a dresser out of the room and into the hallway, and arranging a table by the window. Patrick decides that one of the dining table chairs will work for the time being, and David fusses with the curtains, concerned that the glare will make it hard to see his laptop screen.

Finally Patrick ushers David out of the guest room and logs in to a Zoom meeting for orientation. It’s boring as hell, but he doesn’t complain.

It’s not as if he thought he was unemployable, it’s just that after his last job imploded so strangely, he wasn’t sure what it would be like to be an employee again. And didn’t know if anyone would give him a chance to find out. Turns out, Alexis was not only good at papering over his employment blips, she was awesome at pep talks and interview practice. He makes a note to himself to call her soon and thank her.

That night they make sandwiches and eat them on the lanai. It’s a little cool for it, but it still feels nice to be outside. Patrick had his parents send him down some more clothes, but David scoffed at the idea of wearing a jacket. Instead he’s got a throw blanket draped around his shoulders, a giant turquoise fleece wrap that clashes terribly with his otherwise neutral palette.

They get a series of texts from Stevie, photos of the house she’s buying in Schitt’s Creek. It’s a three-bedroom ranch on a decent sized lot. The interior looks like it hasn’t been updated in decades, with a pink bathroom and horrendous wallpaper in the bedrooms, but Stevie’s had plenty of experience updating décor at this point.

David teases her for a few minutes, riffing on how unbelievable it is that she’s adult enough to be a homeowner, but his heart doesn’t seem in it. Patrick doesn’t tell him how Stevie has been saving for years, every bonus and raise going into an account for a down-payment.

After their chat with Stevie, David seems out of sorts, and Patrick isn’t sure what to do about it. After they’ve cleaned up from dinner, he suggests they play a game.

David gives him a frowny look, and Patrick immediately knows what he’s thinking. Neither of them are in the mood for sex. “Not that kind of game. A card game, or a board game.”

David perks up at this, then deflates. “We don’t have the right number of people for a board game.”

“I bet we can find something the two of us can play. My parents have a pile of games in the hall closet.”

They pull down the basket of games from the shelf above the laundry machine, and David peers inside. “Did they get these from a yard sale or something?”

There’s a worn box that contains a checkerboard, with both checkers and chess inside, a Connect Four game, a few decks of cards, and Uno.

“I think my aunt sent them down.” Patrick takes out the Uno deck. “How about this?”

David takes the whole basket into the living room and sets it on the coffee table. He takes out the Connect Four game and pulls out the plastic frame, dropping a round tile into it. “I had this game,” he says thoughtfully.

“I think everyone had that game.”

David dumps out the rest of the pieces, and a greeting card falls out. It’s got a drawing of a bouquet of flowers on the front, with “Get Well Soon” in big letters. “What’s this?” David opens it and reads out loud. “Marcy – hope this brings a little bit of fun to your day. You’re in our prayers. Love Susie and Pete.”

Patrick takes the card and reads it, his mind flashing back to last spring, flying down to see his parents. His dad breaking down in tears on the car ride from the airport. His mother telling him not to worry.

“Patrick? Patrick, honey, what’s going on?”

David has his arm around him, and he’s pressed close to him on the couch. Patrick brushes away the wetness on his cheeks, and David pulls him into a hug. “Patrick, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

David glares at him.

“I mean, it turned out to be nothing.” Patrick shakes himself and clears his throat. “My mom had a cancer scare last spring. They found a tumor in her breast. But it was benign.”

“This doesn’t sound like it was benign.” David waves the card at him. “People don’t say you’re in our prayers when it’s benign.”

“She had a bad reaction to one of the drugs, during the surgery, and took a little while to recover. She was laid up for a while, and pretty miserable. But it wasn’t cancer.”

David’s eyes are wet, and he looks like he’s going to cry, too. “She’s okay now?”

“She’s okay.” Patrick leans against David, snuggling into his arms, and they both breathe together for a long moment. “Oh god, I think that’s why I freaked out in the doctor’s office.”

David shifts to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“As soon as I heard, I flew down here. I went with my mom and dad to the doctor’s visits before her surgery. I couldn’t stay long afterwards, I had to get back to work, but…” Patrick’s throat gets tight, remembering. “It was awful. We were all so frightened.”

David presses Patrick’s head against his own, his large hand against Patrick’s scalp warm and comforting. Patrick can feel David’s chest rising and falling. David’s taking deep breaths, he can tell, trying to stay calm.

“You said this happened last spring?” David says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“When things started to go wrong for you at work.”

Patrick tenses. “My mom was in the hospital. I think it’s understandable that I was having trouble focusing.”

“No, honey, of course. That’s not what I meant. Of course it is. It’s just – you didn’t mention that before. That being worried about your mom is what started to get you down.”

Patrick feels like he’s a cartoon character with a light bulb flashing over his head. Could it be that simple? Was worrying about his mom’s health, on top of his general dissatisfaction with where he had ended up in life, what pushed him over the edge into depression?

David tightens his arm around Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Patrick. That that happened to your family. It must have been a very scary thing to deal with.”

“It really was.”

“I’m so glad she’s okay.”

Patrick turns and buries his face in David’s neck. “Me too.”

That night, after David falls asleep, Patrick turns to the internet. He hadn’t wanted to do this before. He’s not sure why, although he thinks it has a lot to do with denial. But he can’t stop thinking about his mom, and how hard it had hit him when she was sick. Gritting his teeth, he starts googling causes of depression. Upsetting or stressful life events. Death or illness in the family. Job-related worries. Huh. Maybe he had good reason to feel like things were falling apart. Maybe that’s why he lost the ability to care about his job. Maybe he’s not doomed to fail at his new one, too.

Patrick scrolls to the email from the therapist he’s been talking to. So far, it’s just been a few emails and a brief phone call, an introduction, to see if she seemed like a good fit. She’s based out of Toronto, but has many patients that she counsels remotely, on Facetime or Zoom, and comes highly recommended. With shaking hands, he types out a message, suggesting that they schedule a session soon. “I think it started last spring…”

#David x Patrick #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic

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toplinetommy · 4 years

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You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Eight) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, poorly written smut

a/n: here’s a link to the song in the second part, which is essentially the inspiration behind this love story (even tho his entire discography played a part). there’s one more part after this plus the epilogue! again, thank you for reading along :)

September 2019 - Denver, CO

You can see it on his face. Tyson’s clearly trying not to panic, and you’re kind of unsure why. He was fine the first two hours you were over at his house, helping him pack. But now, he’s folded and unfolded the same crewneck sweatshirt at least eight times and you’re about to yank it out of his hands and tell him that you’ll just do it.

His room was a mess. His large set of hard-shell suitcases open and scattered on the floor, a pile of garment bags on his bed filled with his suits, and a box collecting his random knick-knacks by his bathroom door. His alternative playlist was playing through the speakers on his laptop that sat on his bed, filling the periodic silence between you two. You were both sitting criss-cross applesauce on his floor, packing up his dresser, when you decided to finally cut in.

“Tyson,” you call out. “You doing okay there? You’ve been folding the same sweater for five minutes.”

He folds the sweater one more time before finally placing it in his suitcase, “I’m fine.”

Your heart sinks a little and your lips form a pout at his mumbling, knowing instantly it was just him not wanting to talk. Your hands stop folding the pair of jeans in your hands and you drop them to your folded legs. You sit up, bringing yourself to your knees, and crawl over to kneel behind Tyson’s sitting figure.

“Hey,” you whisper, wrapping one arm around his torso and resting your head on the back of his shoulder. You run a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp and twirling some of his curls through your fingers. Tyson leans back into you, taking in the extra weight you’re putting onto him. “Talk to me.”

“I’m just anxious. I’ve never lived by myself before,” he admits. “I’m excited, but still.”

“It’s all a part of growing up,” you sigh. He’s probably already heard that statement from his family members and even guys on the team, but you knew that when you heard that, it helped. “Besides, don’t the older guys always check in on the younger guys when they start living on their own?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Tys. Living on your own is refreshing, trust me. You’ll find out so many new things about yourself and it’s not like you’ll be by yourself 24/7. Especially with how social you are,” you reassure with a smile as you rub his shoulders. You could tell he was nervous prior to packing. Every time he had called you to talk about a new place he found over the summer he just rambled and nit-picked the place apart. His pros and cons list looked more like a maybe and a no list by the time he finally settled on the Cherry Creek apartment.

“Can we take a break? I think it’d ease my mind a bit.” He asks, gesturing to the mess in front of him.

“Sure.” You twist your body around Tyson’s. “Only if I can have a kiss.”

Tyson playfully scoffs and rolls his eyes before leaning in and placing a smiley kiss on your lips. The kiss is quick, and you pull away to stand, pulling him up with you.

“You want to figure out plans for dinner? I don’t know about you but this packing is making me hungry,” Tyson says, changing the subject.

You two end up deciding on getting sushi from your favorite place, a spot where you knew the owners by name at this point. You spend the time sharing your favorite stories from the Rookie House, Tyson not missing a chance to chirp JT about his Fortnite addiction. Your favorite memory being the one time you and Tyson were in the living room and Kerfy and his girlfriend had set off the smoke detectors while trying to cook.

“I think my best memory was move-in day,” Tyson swallows. He grabs another piece of sushi with his chopsticks. “I was on cloud nine knowing that I had made the team and then I crossed the street to go meet my neighbor and I just about shit my pants when you walked in.”

A strangled cough comes out of your mouth in response to Tyson’s statement. You grab your drink next to you and try to swallow down the remnants of your food that you’ve swallowed incorrectly.

“Actually,” Tyson ponders, changing his mind. “That might not be my favorite memory, but it definitely led to a fuck ton of my favorite memories.”

Your stomach churns at the thought and you turn your head to look at Tyson. He’s not even looking at you and is focused on the container of sushi in front of him. Your eyes water and you blink at the thought of all of his favorite memories in this house over the past two years all stemmed from you. More specifically, stemmed from the off-chance that the two of you even reconnected in the first place. You smile softly, blinking away the tears in your eyes, setting your chopsticks down and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

He turns to look at you, and the expression on his face shows that he doesn’t even fully understand the weight those words had as he spoke them to you. Looking into his eyes, it hits you. This was fate. Tyson Jost sitting in front of you was the universe’s doing. All of the comments you got since meeting Tyson flow through your mind as you stare into his eyes silently. One sticking out more than the others.

I knew you two would somehow find each other

“What?” Tyson asks, breaking you from your thoughts. He’s chewing the last bit of his sushi roll, and you bring your thumb up to wipe at the soy sauce that gathered in his mustache.

“Nothing, nothing,” You shrug. “Just really happy is all.” You turn your attention back to your sushi, finishing the last few pieces before Tyson’s up and throwing away the containers.

Once he makes his way back over to you, he pulls you into his chest, placing a kiss on your lips.

“Your breath smells like seaweed,” you chirp against his lips.

“Are you gonna stop kissing me because of it?” He asks, pulling away slightly.

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” He laughs, pulling your face back to his to reconnect his lips with yours. His lips move along yours softly, your hands moving against the expanse of his chest as he moves his hands along your torso until one lands on the side of your face. The hand on your waist finds its way underneath your t-shirt, squeezing the bare flesh lightly. He’s pulling you tighter against his body, crowding you around the counter behind you. As the kiss deepens, his groin brushes against your pelvis, causing a growing heat in your stomach and between your legs. You twist your hands under the cotton of his shirt to feel the warmth of his back.

“So now that we’re moving out you’re gonna start making out with people in the kitchen?”

A voice, you recognize as JT makes you pull away. You drop your forehead to Tyson’s shoulder before lifting it back up. You give JT a tight-lipped smile, heat rising to your cheeks. His jaw drops open and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead before he stutters over his next words,

“Oh. Hey, y/n.”

“Hey, JT.”

He disappeared up the stairs just as fast as he entered the house.

“Sorry, I thought he had already finished moving to his new place,” Tyson apologizes, pushing a hand through your hair.

“Does he know anything about what’s going on between us?” You ask, sheepishly.

“Uh, yeah,” he responds, scratching at the back of his head. “I might’ve called him a few days after you left Canada to tell him and get advice.”

“And what did he say?”

“That’s a secret.”

You playfully shove at his chest and he stumbles backward. “Fine. Let’s get a move on this packing. We’re almost done.”

You playfully slap at Tyson’s ass before pushing him towards the stairs, a task made difficult by the brunette due to his size and unwillingness to move. After a few more shoves and the promise of a kiss, he’s finally heading down the stairs so he can finish packing up the remainder of his clothes.

“Hey,” you shout as you walk through the front door of Tysons’ apartment, announcing your presence. Tyson’s sitting on his couch, watching something on the tv. “I texted Kacey and-“

“Wait. You texted my sister?” Tyson asks a hint of awe and confusion in his tone.

“Yes, but that’s not the point. I texted your sister for your grandma’s almond butter cookie recipe and now I’m here because I thought we could bake them together.” You had known he had already started to miss St. Albert even after only being gone for a little over a week. This was the first time you really got a taste of what an NHL off-season was like and when you were in Kelowna, you could start to fathom how hard it was for Tyson to leave home every summer. The least you could do was help make that transition a little easier for him.

Tyson joins you shortly as he watches you fill the contents of your canvas grocery bag onto his kitchen island. He picks up the jar of almond butter before setting it back down.

“You know I don’t bake.”

“There’s always time to learn, Tys,” you state. “And now’s a perfect time!”

A laugh slips out of Tyson’s mouth at your eagerness. He goes quiet after, thinking back to the comment you first made about how you texted his sister. His heart swells at the thought of it, at the thought of you and his sister possibly becoming friends. His heart swells, even more, knowing that Kacey didn’t really have an older female influence in her life that wasn’t their mom or a relative, or even her teammates at school. He wants to ask you how often you talk to her, but he decides against it, not wanting to intrude.

The last thing you pull out is a plastic mixing bowl and utensils to properly make the cookies. Tyson laughs at the extra tools, to which you reply with a scoff,

“I literally helped you move, I know you don’t have the things to bake.”

He throws his hands up in defense before poking at your side, causing you to squeal. You slap his hands away, telling him to focus. The two of you get through making the cookie dough pretty easily, as Tyson was attentive to your directions for once. It’s moreso you mixing the ingredients together as Tyson hands you what you need while he tells you about the start of training camp. You let him press the almonds on the tops of each cookie and you hop up onto the counter as he puts them into the oven.

“I have a question to ask you,” Tyson announces as he shuts the oven door.

“Shoot,” you answer.

“So every year in November we have the Mile High Dreams Gala. It’s this huge charity event all of the Denver sports teams host,” he starts, moving to stand in between your open legs. He places his hands on your thighs, rubbing his thumbs softly over the exposed skin. “And I know it’s not for another two months, but I’d love for you to come with me.”

“Like one where you wear a nice suit and I wear a fancy dress?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah one like that,” he chuckles.

You ponder the idea for a minute, puckering your lips in thought. “On one condition, you come with me to the Dermot Kennedy concert in a few weeks.”

“I thought you and Caitlyn were going?” He asked, confused.

“She was supposed to, yeah, but Jack’s brother is getting married that weekend.”

“Sounds like you’re gonna need to start shopping for a new dress then,” Tyson smiles.

A comfortable silence falls around the both of you as you scrape your finger on the side of the mixing bowl, picking up the remnants of the raw cookie dough before plopping it into your mouth.

His thumbs continue to rub small circles on your thighs before he breaks the silence, “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” you start, hesitantly. When Tyson usually wanted to talk to you about something specific, he usually just came right out and said it. The fact that he’s asking you first makes you avoid his gaze, and you look at the small, potted plant behind him that’s sitting on his tv stand in the distance. You swallow thickly, trying your best to suppress the burst of anxiety coursing through your veins.

“You asked me the other day if JT knew about what was going on between us, and he does, but -” Tyson takes a deep breath, stopping himself. His thumbs stop moving on your thighs, and you grab his hands in hopes of giving him comfort. “But, I’m not even sure what’s going on between us. You came to Canada, and I don’t know, there was just this huge shift between us and we haven’t really talked about it. I know I’ve only been back for a week and it’s always a hectic first few weeks back for me-”

“Tys, you’re rambling,” you interrupt. “Take a breath.”

“I really don’t know how to talk about it because it’s so new and intense. You’re my best friend and I don’t know how to even talk about taking it further or even how, really.”

“I don’t really know either,” you admit, playing with his fingers where they’re joined with yours. “But I really like this and it doesn’t even feel that different than before.”

“I do know that this is what I want. I want to sit here and talk about the universe with you. I want you to help me prank my friends and for you to tell me when I’m being immature. And at the same time, I want to be there to tell you when you need to let loose and be the one you go to about work even though I don’t understand a thing that comes out of your mouth when you do,” he explains. His nervousness seems to be gone as he focuses on your reaction. It was a lot for him to come out and admit these things, and you know that.

As he spoke, the feelings you felt from the last day at his old house came flooding back. The man in front of you was fate, and he clearly felt that you were put in his life for a reason as well. All of the little things with him like napping, cooking, going to his games, and the bigger things like meeting his family, and spending time with him outside of Denver really meant just as much to him as it did to you. You’re finally starting to see it and the way he’s talking to you has perfectly mirrored his previous actions.

“Tyson,” you start, your voice cracking. You take a deep breath and sniffle, holding yourself back from letting any tears out. Tyson lets go of your hands quickly, bringing his up to your face, grasping your cheeks.

“Hey,” he says leveling his head with yours to get better direct eye contact. “What we’re not gonna do is cry.”

“You can’t say things like that to me and not expect me to cry,” you sniff, a few tears escaping from the inner corners of your eyes. Tyson catches them before they can even leave mascara smudges. “Ever since you walked into that study room at school, you were all I wanted. I just wasn’t ready.”

Tyson looks at you in a questioning manner. You can see it in his eyes, he wants to ask you if you’re ready now, if you’re ready to dive head-first into being with him romantically. You lift one of your hands and place it on where his hand is still on your cheek. Looking at him, you feel the same way you think you’ve always felt about him-- a way you were too scared to admit to yourself, a way you sometimes even avoided feeling. However, in this moment,, you know you’re ready for more with him.

“I want you, in every way possible.”

Tyson leans further in, his hands still on either side of your face. The intensity combined with the softness of his gaze has your body feeling weightless, the warmth from his hands keeping you grounded. He leans in all the way, capturing your lips with his in a passionate, heated kiss. He slides his hands from where they were on your cheeks to the junction of your waist, pulling you to the edge of the counter and closer to him.

You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles and digging your heels into his ass, urging him to come impossibly closer. Your hands brush over the expanse of his chest, and up to the back of his neck, where you lightly scrape your nails. He bites at your lip, letting out a small moan when his groin brushes over your clothed center. Pushing your hands up his torso underneath his shirt, you tug on it letting him know you want him to take it off. He pulls away, just for enough time to peel his shirt off, before latching his lips right back on yours.

Your hands travel around his torso, your fingers dipping into the curves and definitions of his muscles. You’ve never felt so connected to someone with just kissing, and you’re trying to memorize where every line is on his toned torso because you never want to forget this feeling-- the feeling of pure elation and pure want deep in your bones.

His lips traveling down your jaw and to your neck pulls you from your thoughts. His lips kiss lightly against your warm skin, adding a coolness before he softly bites down when your neck meets your shoulder.

“Tys, baby,” you moan out. He hums against you, not wanting to take his lips away from your skin. “We can’t keep doing this on kitchen counters.”

Your request has Tyson pulling away from you and he picks you up, hands squeezing at your ass as he walks you to his bedroom. When he drops you onto the bed, he crawls over you, eyes dark. You lick your lips as you look down his torso once more, fully being able to appreciate his athletic build with no shame for once. He smiles widely as he leans further in, reconnecting your lips.

His hand pushes your shirt up your torso, revealing your lacy bralette. He pulls one cup aside, exposing your hardening nipple before wrapping his lips around it. Your hips buck up at the feeling and when he pulls away to switch to the other nipple, you take the opportunity to pull your shirt off over your head. You’re lost in the scent of his shampoo, a combination of sage and lemon. Once he gives your nipples ample attention, he leaves a trail of kisses down your stomach, kissing above the waistband of your running shorts. Hooking his fingers under the material and his eyes flick to look at your face, making sure he has the okay before he’s pulling them off your legs.

“You need to tell me that you’re sure you want to do this,” Tyson breathes out heavily. “This is so much more than-”

“I know. I want this, I want you,” you interrupt, reassuring him of your intentions, running your hands through his curls. He smiles up at you, before dipping his head down between your thighs. The warmth of his breath combined with your view of him has you rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

His tongue peeks out of his mouth as he licks at his lips, looking up at you. His eyes focus back onto your center, and his tongue sticks back out again, this time licking a stripe up your folds. His hands rub along your thighs, pushing your knees to the bed, leaving more room for his torso. The heavy grip on your thighs disappears and you feel his thumb find your clit. The new pressure eclipses a moan from you as he fucks his tongue into you.

His thumb continues to rub your clit, your hips grinding up against his face to get as much friction from him as possible. His other hand comes to lay flat against your lower stomach, pushing your down to keep you from moving. He lifts his face up, thumb still on your clit.

“Stay still,” he demands, looking up at your face. You lift up to rest on your elbows, giving yourself a better view of Tyson’s head between your thighs and nod in understanding. Your eyes stay focused on him, as he looks back down at your pussy and lets spit drop out of his mouth. The action has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and the cool sensation on your hot folds has you gasping and throwing your head back onto the pillow.

He spreads the wetness around, this time focusing his tongue’s movements on your clit. He pumps a finger into you, curling his finger to find your sweet spot. He adds another finger, and you focus on the wet sounds coming from your center.

“Tyson,” you whine, threading your fingers through his hair once again. Your grip tightens as you feel the familiar pressure start to build. Tyson groans against your clit and wraps his lips around the small bundle of nerves, bringing you to your high. He licks at your folds through your orgasm, only pulling away when your grip on his hair loosens. His lips are redder than normal and swollen and his beard is glistening from your juices. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand as he crawls back over you, setting some of his weight on your body as he kisses you.

As your lips move against him, a whine escapes your mouth when you feel the outline of his dick through his shorts. You reach your hand down to wrap your fingers around his clothed member, and Tyson moves one of his hands to push both his shorts and underwear off.

“Fuck,” he curses against your mouth as he feels your thumb swipe against the tip of his cock. His hips buck into your hand, and you start to push at his chest to make him flip over onto his back. He’s hesitant to follow your movements, and you pull away from his lips,

“I wanna blow you,” you mumble against his lips.

“You can do it another time,” he asserts. “Just wanna be inside you.”

You nod, kissing down his jaw, sucking marks across his neck and shoulders. He leans up on his elbows, pulling away to grab at his nightstand.

“No, no condom. I’m on birth control.”

“You sure?” Tyson asks, hand still on his nightstand drawer. You nod your head yes, and he groans, presumably at the thought of him being inside you, bare. Finally, he crawls back over you, pushing one of your knees up into your chest. His lips leave yours, his forehead resting on yours. Gripping his member, he spreads his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness.

“Please,” you whine, squeezing one of your hands around his bicep as his tip catches against your clit. His eyes caught yours once again as he pushed himself inside you slowly. Your mouth drops open at the feeling, a choked out moan coming out.

He picks up a slow yet steady rhythm fucking into you, one arm hooking under your thigh keeping you spread open for him. His lips move roughly against yours, your mouth silencing his moans.

His lips detach from yours and he brings his other hand to rub his fingers at your clit. His eyes focus on yours and his pace slows down slightly. He’s hitting inside you deep and you can feel every part of him against you. You bring your hand to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing against his bottom lip. If you thought the connection when the two of you were kissing was a lot, the connection you felt now, with him buried deep inside of you, was a million times that. He pauses his thrusts, his member buried deep in you.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” you whisper. Tyson, a man usually of many words, opts for a silent response and kisses you deeply. With one hand on his face, you hold him to you as he starts moving again. Trailing his kisses down your neck he finds your sweet spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

“You feel so good, fuck.”

He picks up his pace, fucking you slowly, yet hard, as you both try to savor this

movement between the two of you. The finger rubbing your clit picks up speed and your fingers around his bicep tighten, leaving crescent marks behind.

“I’m close,” you breathe out. Your walls tighten around his member as you tightly close your eyes. Tyson brings his mouth back up to yours, kissing you until you’re pulling away with a loud moan as your orgasm rushes over you. He fucks you through it, leaving some pressure on your clit even when your high has passed. His orgasm follows yours soon after, his cock twitching as he spills deep inside of you.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, too.” He says. You kiss him fully, whining against his lips as he pulls his member from you. He flops down next to you, pulling your body tight into his chest. Your hand falls over his heart, the skin there sticky and shining from sweat. Your breath falls in line with his, and your eyes close briefly. His fingers push through your hair, trying his best to smooth out the knots that were previously created. He tugs a little harder, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him.

He opens his mouth before his face twists. He inhales deeply, his eyebrows furrowed as he turns his focus away from you.

“What’s that smell?” Tyson asks. You waft some of the air around you towards your face and that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“The cookies!” You shriek, jumping up and detangling your limbs from Tyson’s. His booming laughter fills your ears as you run to the kitchen to inspect the damage. Turning the oven off with a beep, and taking out the burnt cookies, Tyson’s body appears behind you.

He places a kiss on your bare shoulder where the blanket started to slip, “God, I could get used to this.”

His whisper against your skin causes a shiver to run through your body. Once the burnt cookies are on top of the oven, you turn around in Tyson’s arms, leaning up to brush your nose against his.

“Me too.”

September 2019 - Red Rocks, CO

“Tyson, I don’t think you understand how excited I am!” You exclaim as you go to hug him hello at the door. “I’ve literally been looking forward to this since I got the tickets in February!”

Tyson chuckles into your neck. Letting go, you walk back into your kitchen. Tyson follows closely behind, watching you grab your water bottle and your purse.

“Hey, I didn’t know this picture was taken,” Tyson gestures to the photo of the two of you hanging on your fridge. You smile as you look at the photo he’s pointing to. It’s from a home playoff game in the second round, a few days prior to them being knocked out. The picture in question is you and him after the game outside the locker room. He’s dressed in his navy game-day suit,holding his tie, phone, and headphones in one hand, while the other arm is wrapped around your torso. Your hand is squeezing his cheeks, forcing his smile to be somewhat squished.

“Yeah, I went through the pictures on my phone after I got back from Canada to see what I wanted to get printed and saw that one.” You answer with a smile. “It was too good a memory to not put somewhere.”

Tyson’s smile slightly widens, remembering the night in question vividly. He was on a post-game high. He had scored a goal that game, helping propel the team to force a Game 7 in San Jose. You had gone to the game by yourself, sitting with some of the WAG’s and family members of the team and enjoyed every minute of playoff hockey in the Can with people you normally didn’t attend games with.

“It’s a nice picture,” he compliments quietly, dropping his hands back down to his sides. He follows you to your front door, watching you as you slip on your Doc Martens. You’re wearing a one-sleeved bodysuit, paired with a pair of patchwork jeans.

You let him know you’re all ready to go, standing up and placing your hands on his chest and placing a kiss to his lips. Your eyes are wide and bright when you pull away, emphasized by your long eyelashes, and he doesn’t think you’ve stopped smiling in the few minutes he’s been here.

“Thank you again for going to this concert with me so last minute. I know you don't really like this type of music,” You say, referring to the Dermot Kennedy concert you’re getting ready for.

“He’s your favorite artist, I’ll be fine, Y/n,” Tyson reassures. “Besides, it’s an excuse for me to dance with no judgment.”

Hopping into Tyson’s SUV, you snatch the aux cord before he can protest and play your driving playlist on Spotify. The 45-minute car ride to Red Rocks from your place is spent with all the windows down, your feet up on the dash, enjoying the cool, Denver summer, and its almost fall-like air. Your playlist is bouncing through the speakers for most of it, both of you singing at the tops of your lungs. Joyful laughter keeps interrupting both of you, too excited and infatuated with the other.

As Tyson pulls into the amphitheater parking lot, you turn the radio down, taking in the sights around you. The bright oranges and reds of the canyon rocks shock you - you had looked at plenty of photos of Red Rocks Canyon since you had moved here, but none of those did justice to the sight in front of you.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim, settling onto the ground next to the wide-open car door. “This is breathtaking.”

Tyson meets you on your side of the car, leaning on the side of the hood, “Yeah, it really is.

And you know he can’t even really see the vibrant coloring of it, but when you turn around to look back at him you notice he’s looking more at you than the canyon surrounding you. Tyson opens the trunk of his SUV, you going to sit down on the ledge once it’s fully open. The two of you sit there for a while, enjoying the view and each other's company, waiting for the doors to open for the show.

“Okay, so you can’t get mad at me for not singing any of the songs.” Tyson makes you promise, with a laugh.

“I won’t. I promise.” You assure, putting your pinky up to intertwine your pinky with his. He pinky promises you, and you kiss your thumb, him following suit. A somewhat childish tradition you made him do with you every time you made a promise to one another. As you drop your hands from in front of your faces, Tyson leans in stealing a kiss. You pull away with a shy smile, still not used to the new dynamics of your relationship.

Not too long later, you’re walking into the venue and down to your seats. Tyson leads the way, your hand in his as he leads you through the large crowd. Once you reach your seats you take in the sights around you and the ethereal atmosphere. The pre-show playlist is playing through the speakers as you tell Tyson everything he needs to know about the show that’s soon to start.

The lights go out, and the darkness of the canyon surrounds you until the show starts and Dermot Kennedy enters the stage through a cloud of smoke. As the set continues, Tyson has moved his focus from the stage to your dancing form next to him. Your eyes seem to be closed more often than not, letting yourself get lost in the environment and dance along to the beats of the heartwarming music. He’s swaying his body next to yours, not as lost in it all as you are.

The soft intro of ‘For Island Fires and Family’ starts and a small shriek leaves your mouth. You turn to Tyson, yelling to him that this is your favorite song. His smile replicates yours, eyes crinkly, as he pays more attention to this one than the ones that came before. As the chorus comes and the guitar starts to pick up, Tyson focuses more on the lyrics.

Tyson takes this chance to pull you into his side. His arm slings over your shoulder and you turn your face to him smiling, grabbing the hand draped over you.

“But she's bringin' the moon and stars to me, damn permanent reverie. And even though this life, this love is brief, I've got some people who carry me” You sing softly, swaying your head to the piano and strums of the guitar. Tyson hums next to you at a quieter volume, nodding his head to the beat. Every time the chorus passes, Tyson squeezes you a little tighter into him.

Once the show ends you make your way back to the parking lot and as you reach his car, he meets you on the passenger side with you. You thank him again for coming with you, giving him a hug and a quick, gentle kiss.

“No problem. I had a lot more fun than I thought I would.” He admits, pecking your lips once more.

The drive back to your house is quiet, mostly because you’re too awestruck at the show you were just at. As he’s pulling into your neighborhood, you turn the music down, continuing to sing along softly. He turns to look at you, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss to the back of it. He rests your joined hands on his lap. You stick your hand out the window, feeling the wind against your skin, the streetlights bouncing off your jewelry, and creating an almost ethereal glow on your skin.

He pulls into the parking lot, parking his car next to yours. He meets you at the back of his car and stops you from walking up to your front door.

“I love you,” he blurts out. He realizes then how unromantic this moment is, with how the two of you are standing in a parking lot full of your neighbor’s cars. “I love you so, so much.”

“Tyson, I -” You stutter, pulling away from him. His admission shocks you and it all feels too early for it to be happening. You had only just talked about your feelings in the past week and were just starting to feel fully comfortable being in this new relationship with him. You hadn’t even told anyone other than Caitlyn about the new aspects of yours and Tyson’s relationship. “Do you have your soulmark, what, when -”

“I don’t - I don’t know, it just hit me,” He stutters. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He takes a step towards you, effectively canceling out the step you had taken away from him moments prior. Your feet are stuck to the ground and you’re having trouble focusing on any of the thoughts running through your brain. What if he truly does love you, but doesn’t have a soulmark? What if he does have a soulmark, but you never get yours with him?

Tyson can see that your mind is running a mile a minute and he grabs your shoulders, pulling you into him. He runs his hand in a comforting manner over your hair before placing a kiss there. He pulls away, and gives you yet another quick kiss, in hopes that it calms both of you down.

“I have no idea about the soulmark, I just know that I love you. It came in waves throughout the night, and then it just hit during that one song and at the end. The one you were singing with your whole chest and I had you in my arms.”

“For Island Fires and Family?” You ask, thinking back to how tightly he held you to his chest during that specific song.

“Yeah,” He breathes out.

“Tyson,” you start, looking down at your shoes to avoid his gaze. “I can’t say it back.”

It breaks your heart to even say that to him, especially with the amount of love you already have for the brunette. He already had a piece of your heart, but looking back up at him you couldn’t find the words to say that you were in love with him.

“That’s fine,” Tyson assures, his tone light letting you know that it really is in fact okay.

“It’s just really early and there were so many changes so fast,” you explain further. “But, I can tell you right now that I have love for you already, and that I am falling for you. You just have to give me time.”

He nods his head in understanding, taking yet another deep breath. You stand there in his embrace a moment longer before he leads the two of you up to your door.

Tyson’s in the bathroom finishing up while you’re already in bed, under the covers. When you hear the bathroom door open, you set your phone down and look over at Tyson. He’s smiling widely as he scratches his head. He sits at the edge of your bed and pulls his t-shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere on the floor.

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasp, sitting up further in bed.

“What?” Tyson asks, twisting around to look at you.

“Your fucking arm!” You exclaim, reaching out to touch at the ink adorning his once bare arm.

Your jaw drops at the revelation, staring at Tyson, whose eyebrows are knitted in confusion. Opening your mouth to speak, nothing comes out but a choked noise. You point at his arm, not able to find your words, hoping he takes the hint and looks at his arm.

He glances between you and where you’re pointing and he sees the black ink just above his elbow. He jumps up, running to your bathroom to get a better look at it in the mirror. He examines it closely. He doesn’t notice your presence until your hands land on his bare chest, and he turns his focus from the mirror back to you. He doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and bring your lips to his in a heated, passionate kiss.

“I am so fucking in love with you,” he announces once he pulls away. Looking into his eyes you notice the glossiness in them.

“Let me see it,” you whisper, dancing your fingers along the back of his right arm.

He turns his body enough for you to get a clear look at the brand new ink. Just above his elbow is a half-sun, surrounded by the phases of the moon, adorned with various small dots and lines to make it look more complete. The lines are delicate, which is something your mind links to the way you treat one another. You place a kiss in the center of it, before wrapping your arm around Tyson’s waist turning him around.

“It’s gorgeous,” you compliment.

A blush rises to Tyson’s tan cheeks. His eyes are sparkling in the harsh lighting of your bathroom and his smile is bright as he looks down at you. Your heart is full and your hand stays wrapped around his bicep, almost like if you take your hand away the mark will disappear.

“I guess this means I’m your soulmate, huh?” You smile.

“I guess so,” He smiles back, wrapping his arms around you to fully embrace you.

The two of you make your way to bed eventually, only after pulling away from Tyson long enough to get there. The two of you don’t fall asleep for hours after getting in bed, too caught up in one another’s body, and the connection between your souls. He’s snoring above you and you smile to yourself before dozing off. You may not be in love with him yet, but you knew in your heart that you were a few steps from falling.

tag list: @reavenedges-lies @oilers2997 @quinnsbxtch (let me know if you wanted to be added!)

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #nhl imagine #alex writes

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years

Text

Love Isn’t Always On Time Part Forty Four

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: Not Beta-Read. I hope everyone’s having a good week! Warnings: Cursing; canon-typical violence; semi-graphic fight scene Summary: Bucky had given up on being subtle almost a month ago.

“I’m almost offended that you haven’t named a goat after me,” I said. Bucky laughed on the other end of the phone. “I don’t think you’d want me callin’ a goat your name, babydoll. ‘Sides, once you get down here, you’re not gonna know which one’a you I’m talking to, you or the goat,” He pointed out. I smiled, adjusting the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I reached out to turn the stove off. Bucky had been out of cryo for nearly two months, and he’d adjusted better than any of us could’ve ever hoped. “Have you named one after Stevie?” I asked. “Well there’s one really stubborn one that I named ‘Grant’, so technically, yes.” I giggled. “I bet he loves that.” “He doesn’t say anything about it, just gets that look, you know.” I did know. I stung with knowing. “...How is he?” I asked. “Could just ask him yourself,” Bucky said pointedly, “Even easier to ask if you were here.” Bucky had given up on being subtle almost a month ago. Steve and I had communicated exactly once, when I’d texted to wish him a happy birthday. He’d thanked me, and that had been it. “Alright, wise guy,” I grumbled, getting a plate down from the cabinet. “Oh, so I point out something perfectly logical and suddenly I’m a wise guy?” Bucky asked. “I think the goats are making you cocky.” “Well then I guess you gotta down here and put me in my place.” There was an edge to Bucky’s voice, something warm and flirty that I hadn’t heard in a long time. I felt my stomach flutter at it. “Maybe in a bit, sweetheart, okay?” I said quietly. I heard Bucky sigh on the other end. “When?” Bucky pressed. It was the first time he’d pushed me to put a hard date on it. I thought for a few moments. “In a month?” I offered. “A month is practically a year,” Bucky whined. “It’s not a year, babe. If it was a year then it would be a year and not a month.” “Three weeks.” “You’re seriously trying to negotiate me down right now?” I laughed. “Two weeks,” Bucky countered. “You’re not good at this,” I said. I thought before adding, “Three weeks.” “Promise?” “I swear.” --

When I woke up, my room was pitch-black, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. Something was wrong. I had this feeling running down my spine that I was being watched. My hand tightened around the gun under my pillow, taking a deep breath. I was just paranoid. Nothing was wrong. I closed my eyes again, taking another deep breath. Then I heard the floorboard by my bed creek. I whipped the gun out from under my pillow, firing at the source of the sound. I heard a groan of pain and I knew that I’d hit my mark. A hand grasped my ankle and I flailed, kicking furiously at it as I twisted to get out of my sheets, losing hold of my gun in the process. I rolled out of bed, ducking as an assailant grabbed for me. I gripped around their waist, lifting and throwing them over my shoulder. I slammed my body back and letting go as we reached my window. They tumbled out, and I heard them slam onto the dumpster in the alley below. I barely managed to duck out of the way of an oncoming punch. I saw the glint of a blade just a moment too late - I felt a searing pain rip through my side and I gasped. Against my better judgement, I leaned back against the broken window, bracing my arms against the walls and bringing my leg up to kick the assailant away. My hand flailed for the light switch and I managed to flick it on in time to see them coming at me again. I ducked out of the way, pressing a hand between their shoulder blades and catching hold of them by the back of their mask. I slammed their head into the wall once, twice, three times before they dropped to the ground. I looked down at them, heart pounding. I crouched down, pulling their mask up and recognized them instantly. They were one of Ross’ agents. A chill ran through me. How the hell had they found me? I pulled their mask back down, looking around. I had to move, and fast. -- I had my clothes packed up in twenty minutes; I ripped my hard drive out of my laptop, wiped my phone and had a plan to ditch it overboard once I got on the cruise ship. It was just a two hour drive to Alexandria. Ross probably wouldn’t be expecting me to travel by boat. I tied up and taped over the mouth of the knocked out agent. Someone would come looking for them sooner or later, but I didn’t want them to be able come after me as soon as they were up. The cut on my side was deep, but I didn’t have time to stitch it up properly. I’d have to deal with that later. --

Ambushed. Traveling. Will reach out when able. That was the last message I sent to Bucky and Steve from my phone before I wiped it. I had their numbers memorized and programmed them into the burner phone I’d bought and paid for with cash. It was a comparatively short I’d be able to lay low, heal, and recover. I wanted to know if the rest of the team was facing the same problem, but I was too nervous about reaching out to any of them to find out. If Ross managed to get a lock on my again, it could lead him right to them, and that was the last thing they needed. I pulled my cap down to shield my eyes further under my sunglasses as I headed for my cabin. It was just over a day’s journey between ports. That gave me a little time to clean my wound, rest, and work out where I’d be staying. -- “Where are you.” Steve’s voice was harsh through the phone. I had called Bucky; I hadn’t heard from Steve in a while, and his voice had stunned me. “I-- Somewhere in the Mediterranean?” I offered, “Couldn’t pin-point it, I don’t think, if you’re looking for specifics.” “Goddamnit,” Steve mumbled on the other end of the phone. Shame rolled through me, and I couldn’t pinpoint why. I looked down at the floor of my cabin. “Are you alright?” Steve asked. “Fine,” I fibbed, “Just... A little rattled, I guess. Is everyone else okay?” “I checked in with all of them, nothing’s seemed off. They said they’ll keep an eye out.” “Okay. Good,” I nodded. We sat in silence for a while. “So Bucky named a goat after you, huh?” I asked, unsure of what else to say. “Don’t,” Steve said flatly. “Sounds like someone’s in a ba-aaad mood,” I added, bleating as I said ‘bad’. I heard Steve laugh in spite of himself. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” He asked. “I know,” I nodded. “You worked out somewhere to stay yet?” Steve asked. “Working on it now.” “Let me see what I can figure out.” “I’ve got it handled, Steve.” “Right, cause you handled it so well last time.” I clenched my jaw in irritation, careful not to snap back at him. We were already in a bad enough place. “... I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled. “Whatever, Steve,” I shook my head, “I’m gonna go now.” “Let me know when you get to port.” “Yeah,” I agreed before I pulled my phone away from my ear, hanging up. I wanted to call back and talk to Bucky-- hell, at this point I’d take Natasha telling me that I was being an idiot. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to take it from Steve ‘Jump-Out-of-A-Plane-Without-A-Parachute’ Rogers.

Tag list: @gloryevans @redryderdesigns @winter-scolder @aactuaaltraash @secretagentben @staplerrrr @elliee1497 @adayinmymeadow @allonszassbutt @mannls @witch-of-letters @niallssweetheart22 @uneniffler @rinthehufflepuff @panic-angel3314 @firstangeldragonranch @kaetastic @mcuwillbethedeathofme @skeletoresinthebasement @i-dont-know-what-im-doing-yay @kkaos15 @iamnotoverlyfondofwhatfollows @bassclarinety @tomshelbystits @rvgrsbrns @marvelmenarebeautiful @tenaciousperfectionunknown @intricate-melody @stuffandstuff-stuff @fanfuckingtastic04 @messybunnyartist @anescapefromtheworld @shesa-riott @bihoeofmanyfandoms @martyniasz @silver-winter-wolf ; @mamooska8

#Love Isn't Always on Time #stucky #stucky x reader #stucky imagine #stucky x reader imagine #stucky x you #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x you x bucky barnes #steve x bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x steve rogers #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

1044

survey by a7xbabii

Do you use e-mail often? I use it for eight hours, five days a week for work, so yes.

Do you hear any animals right now? I’m in a Starbucks inside a mall situated in the middle of a busy highway. It would be very unlikely to hear any animals right now.

Are you in a well-lit room? Sure, I’d say this establishment has good lighting. There’s no light directly above me unlike the other seats, but it’s okay in this case as I don’t want other people seeing me take surveys.

Is your trashcan full? The main one we use at home just got full, so the last time I checked this morning my mom was airing it out.

What was the last crunchy thing you consumed? My chicken barbecue sandwich from last night.

Did you view anything disturbing today? Hmm, I guess so? I wanted to entirely redo one part of my embroidery piece since I wasn’t happy with how I did it, so I had to remove the threads and stuff. When they were all gone the template was filled with holes and it looked like one of those trypophobia photos. I’m not personally disturbed by that phenomenon, but I know a lot of people are.

Are there any holiday decorations in your house? Yeah, we’ve had our Christmas tree up since the beginning of November. We also usually put a wreath up our door but idk why my mom didn’t this year.

When was the last time you had a terrible headache? Last night, because I had not eaten all day.

Have you recently put lotion on your hands? No. I don’t like the feeling of lotion, so I don’t apply it on me a lot, if at all.

Are you hungry? Not so much, actually. I don’t feel too hungry today; I didn’t even finish my breakfast and that’s the only meal I’ve had so far today, and it’s already 4 PM.

Is it rainy where you're at right now? No, it’s quite fair. The sun’s not too strong anymore because of the time, but it’s still very much bright out.

Do you carry a purse? If so, describe what it looks like. I take a wallet with me. It’s pink, made of fake leather, has three main slots inside, and it also has some tiny bite marks on the outer edges from when Cooper was a lot younger.

Is your cell phone on vibrate? For certain notifications only, like texts and Viber.

Is your dishwasher full? We don’t use a dishwasher.

When is the last time you saw someone you like/love. Around a week and a half ago.

Do you like to wear gloves? No, I find them too itchy and I don’t need to wear them anyway.

Is there a body of water near where you live? There’s a creek that passes through my village near the clubhouse area, if that counts.

What are your thoughts on Avenged Sevenfold? No opinion. I never listened to them; though I am reminded of this one mutual I used to have on Tumblr/Twitter. She used to be a wrestling fan and was a part of our main circle, but she gradually shifted her main fandom to Avenged Sevenfold. By the time she cemented her new interest she then went on a huge unfollowing spree of wrestling fans on her feed and she apparently PM’d each person she intended to unfollow, including me. I remember her explaining that she was now in a different fandom and was gonna have to stop following me which I found...kinda extra to be honest lmao because nobody does that, but I appreciate the effort to approach each one of us, I guess.

Are you wearing anything pink right now? Nope, but my wallet is pink and so is my keyboard cover.

Do you like to swim in the ocean? I prefer beaches, but sure.

What is the creepiest bug you've ever saw? Cockroaches.

Do you currently have split ends? I don’t think so.

When is the last time you used the bathroom? Around five hours ago when I took a shower before heading out.

Do you chew on your lip? Almost never.

Are you afraid of needles? For the most part yeah, especially syringes. I’m not afraid of them when I do my embroidery, but that’s the only time I feel comfortable with a needle.

What is the last thing you lost? A pen, I think.

When is the last time you saw a bald person? Five hours ago, when I said bye to my dad.

What car were you last in? [continued from two days ago] My own. I was driving home from the mall.

Do you like Batman? I tried to get into Batman and the whole shebang of comic books when I was a teenager, but I just couldn’t.

Have you ever played tennis? Never have, actually. I’ve always wanted to try.

Can you see a star shape in the room you are in? Probably not in my bedroom.

What are you sitting on? A pillow I’ve placed on my work chair so that it’s more comfortable. My parents got me a basic chair initially meant just for my internship, so it’s not the comfiest of chairs haha. But now that I have a job, a more suitable work chair is probably one of things I’ll have to invest on.

What is the last warm thing you touched? My chest felt itchy just a few seconds ago, so I was able to feel my skin scratching it.

Do you use hand sanitizer? That’s kind of a necessity now, so...

Where do you want to go in life? [continued from...I don’t even remember anymore] I don’t know if I even plan to make it past 30 at this point. I can’t answer this right now.

Are you sweating? No, I’ve been in air-conditioned rooms all day and it feels so damn good.

When is the last time you had to scratch an itch? A few minutes ago when my neck itched.

Are you in any kind of club or group that is trying to save animals? No, but I very much support the cause.

Who is the last blonde you saw? At work today I saw someone who had her hair dyed blonde.

Where were you two hours after you got up, and what were you doing there? I needed to go to the office today because my team and I needed to pack some stuff to seed to certain media. It was the first time I got to visit the place and it was sooooooo homey and pretty :) I wish we can be allowed to work in the office soon; it would be best for my mental health at this point.

Do you wish for world peace? Um, of course.

Have you ever played fetch with a dog? We were able to teach Cooper how to pick up items that we throw but he’s still slowly learning that he actually has to give it back to us, haha.

What is the nearest object that is wood? The table I am typing on is made of wood.

Do you use Netflix? Yes, we have a family subscription.

Does your house have a fireplace? No, we don’t. And I can confidently tell you all other houses in this entire country, and probably the whole of Southeast Asia, don’t.

Do you wake yourself up in the morning, or does someone else? I wake myself up. On important days, I’ll put an alarm on.

What kind of hoodie did you last wear? It was a white hoodie with a UP seal on the left side.

Do you play games on your computer? No, my laptop isn’t equipped for games. I tried downloading Sims 4 when they made it free for a few weeks back in 2018, but my laptop’s fan started whirring like crazy and the battery got drained super fast. The entire period of me booting it up and then deleting it took like, a literal 15 minutes.

What is the last video game that you played? Mario Kart 8 on the Switch. I want to get myself Switch games as gifts, but I’m just so stingy towards myself hahaha.

Have you ever pet a stingray? I’m 50% would like to at least once and 50% I know of what it did to Steve Irwin, and I’m not messing with them.

If you were on vacation, would you ever go to Ireland? It’s not a big item on my bucket list, honestly. I’d love to go to Ireland, but it would probably be a part of a bigger itinerary, like if I decided to take a trip to that part of Europe.

Are you logged into Myspace right now? I haven’t been on there for more than a decade.

Did you have anything bad happen to you today? Yeah, but they’re stuff that happened at work that are a little hard to explain.

Have you ever been to New York? Nope. I’d love to take a trip there.

Do you use the term "lol" if you don't have anything to say? Not really. I use it in the end of my messages more so that I don’t sound mean.

Should you be sleeping right now instead of taking this survey? Hell no. It’s a Friday night so the last thing I want to be doing is sleeping.

Can you truly say you hate anyone? I don’t think so. I greatly dislike my brother, but I guess I don’t hate him. I find it too strong a word.

Have you ever disected a baby pig in a class at school? Not a piglet, no. We dissected an earthworm, a fish, and eventually a frog.

What brand of dish liquid do you use? A local brand you wouldn’t recognize.

When is the last time you ate a Hershey Kiss? It’s probably been more than a year. It’s not my favorite candy.

Do you ever feel unappreciated? Yes.

Do you currently have any blemishes on your face? No. My pimple finally went away, hallelujah.

Who is the last baby you held? My cousin who is now 13 years old. I’m too anxious to hold babies; I always feel like I’d drop them so I find myself declining even when I have the chance to hold one.

Are you a lover? I guess.

Do you use smileys often in text convos? Yes. Not a lot of people like them but it’s better to sound friendly and approachable than stoic.

Do you have the Google toolbar on your computer? Like...Chrome? I have the program, yeah. It’s my default browser as well.

Do you like Sunkist? I’ve never had it.

Would you ever consider being a cannibal? I mean...I guess only if I was in a life-and-death situation, like if a plane I was in crashed on an island and I was starting to get hungry. I certainly don’t fantasize about cannibalism on any regular day.

Did you forget something important in the past week? I made a few mistakes at work due to me forgetting things, yeah.

Do you like learning new things? Sure.

What color is your toothpaste? White.

Are the floors in your house creaky? Nopes. I don’t think our doors are creaky-level just yet as well.

Do you fear death? I hate the uncertainty of what happens while it’s taking place, and what happens after. But I’ve been wishing for it for a while as well. There’s a difference.

Is your mouth dry? Not right now, no.

Do yoou have any scars from an animal? Yeah I’ve got a few marks and scratches from Cooper. I never run out of them, really.

Did you have fun with this survey? It was okay.

Was it random enough? Sure.

#survey #surveys

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wanderingcas · 5 years

Text

@bekindplsrewind prompt: Found the phone number of an old childhood friend in some box at the back of the closet and decided to call it to see if it still worked AU. in other words: dean is afraid of phones destiel. 1.7k. fluff & phone shenanigans.

“How did you accumulate all this junk?” Sam asks. He punctuates the point by throwing a pink crop top that says “Real Women Lift Weights” at Dean’s face.

“This isn’t junk,” Dean protests, “this was from my junior year in high school.” He carefully puts the crop top on the bed, letting out a sigh. “What a time of sexual discovery.”

“God, Dean. The fact remains—” Sam dives in deeper into Dean’s closet, on his hands in knees, pushing boxes and clothes across the floor at random, “—that Mom is showing this house on Wednesday, and no one is going to want to even consider buying it with all your cluttered crap all over the place.”

Dean snatches a Spock figurine off the floor before Sam’s knee collides with it. “Your room was worse.”

“Yeah, but I cleaned it.”

Making a face at the back of his brother’s head, Dean sits cross-legged on the ground. “Fine. But I’m the final say on what’s garbage or not.”

“We’re never getting out of here,” Sam sighs. But he reluctantly passes Dean a small shoebox anyway.

Dean opens it and sneezes. It clearly hadn’t been opened since before he had to start shaving on a regular basis. He rifles through the contents: colorful paperclips, a note that a cute girl had written to him in eighth grade, a small notebook that had SAM RULES written on the front that was crossed out and modified to SAM SMELLS. Dean chuckles and launches the notebook at Sam’s head.

Not stooping to Dean’s tactics to derail the cleaning situation, Sam calmly slides another Nike shoebox in Dean’s direction.

“You’re no fun,” Dean mutters, taking the top off of the shoebox. He pauses.

The polaroid picture staring at him from the bottom of the box all but slams into his brain, making him remember the moment like it was yesterday. Him and Cas had found a polaroid camera at a neighbor’s garage sale, but instead of buying it, they held it under their chins and took a picture with it, stealing the picture and running away with it. They giggled in Cas’ tree house as the photo slowly revealed their chins, stuck-out tongues, and wayward eyes drawn into obnoxious faces.

“Who’s that?” Sam asks over Dean’s shoulder. Dean jumps almost a foot in the air.

“Jesus, Sam, warn a guy.” Dean hastily shoves the picture back into the box. “And you remember Cas, you dumbass.”

“I was only four, Dean, give me a break,” Sam says. “That’s the kid you hung out with in Dad’s neighborhood before he sold the house, right?”

Dean softly scoffs. ‘Before Dad went off the alcoholic deep end and lost the house in a foreclosure,’ was more accurate. John had ghosted soon after that, leaving Mary with full custody of Sam and Dean. Her neighborhood was across town from Cas’.

“The last time I saw him was probably… I dunno…” Dean whistles through his teeth. “Probably when I was eight or nine.”

“I remember when you tried to run away to see him once,” Sam says. “You got a garbage bag full of your stuff and everything.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, and Mom just watched me drag that thing down the street until the bag ripped and I had to come home.”

“Overdramatic,” Sam says with a grin.

“Whatever, like you were an angel.” Dean rifles around in the box for more Cas-related stuff: broken, smoothed-over green glass they found by a creek that they were convinced were priceless jewels (they weren’t), an old broken ping pong ball they thought was a bird’s egg (again, it wasn’t), notes from Cas that were passed to Dean during class.

And a phone number.

Dean remembers the number as soon as he reads it: 555-9875. Cas had told Dean that if they ever get in trouble, or move away, they have to remember each other’s phone numbers so the other person can help. “Even when we’re adults!” Cas proclaimed from atop the slide, arms outstretched before he tumbled off the side (he did that a lot, climbing to high places, and making Dean’s too small heart already having premature attacks from fear).

“You should call it,” Sam says, again prying his big nose into Dean’s personal business.

“What? No way. It probably wouldn’t even work.”

“I dare you,” Sam offers.

“Jesus, Sam, how old are we?”

“Fine.” Sam crosses his arms. “If you call that number, I will clean out most of this closet myself, and you won’t have to lift a finger.”

Dean considers. He looks down at the frayed, yellowed paper. It’s been twenty years. It’s likely that the number is disconnected, or belongs to someone else.

“Deal,” he decides, whipping out his cell phone. “But you can’t throw away anything, okay? Not without my say.”

“I’ll get a box,” Sam sighs, rising to his feet.

Dean waits until Sam stomps out of the room before carefully dialing the number. He holds it to his ear and waits, hearing his own heartbeat vibrate the receiver.

One ring. Two. Three, until—

“Hello?” asks a voice.

Dean hesitates. It’s male, but couldn’t possibly be Cas, because the Cas he remembers had an obnoxiously pipsqueak voice, not this gravelly one that sounds like the guy just got finished chewing nails for breakfast. “Uh, hey,” he says.

There’s a beat too long of silence. “Can I help you?” the man asks again.

“Oh, yeah, well. Uh. I was just wondering—does Cas Novak still live there?”

“This is he.”

Dean’s face freezes. He gapes at Sam who has just walked back into the room. Sam’s mouth moves into a silent “What?” while Dean frantically gestures at the phone and yells silently “Cas! CAS!”

“Hello?” Cas asks over the receiver.

Sam, saving the day as usual, does a dive toward Dean and smacks him over the head with a box to stop his panic attack in its tracks.

“Oh, awesome.” Dean clears his throat. “It’s, uh—it’s Dean. Dean Winchester. I… yeah.”

The wariness in Cas’ voice is completely dropped when he repeats, “Dean? Oh my god.”

“You remember me?” Dean blurts out.

“Of course I remember you, I—” Cas laughs. Dean breathes in sharply. “This is so strange, I’m just here helping my mother move and the phone rings and—” He laughs again, more airy and bewildered. “It’s great to hear from you. What’s it been, twenty years?”

“Something like that,” Dean says. “You know, we’re moving my mom out of her house too. Must be a ‘moving your mother’ convention in town.”

Across the room, Sam groans and holds his head in his hands.

But Cas laughs, miraculously, and says, “Must be. Do you still live in town?”

“Uh, yeah. You?”

“Yes. I moved away for college, of course, but now I’m back.”

Dean smiles down at the floor. He picks at a thread of carpet. “Remember when we made a pact to go to the same college?”

“I do. In Australia, if I remember correctly.”

“Did you go to Australia?”

“No,” Cas chuckles. “Did you?”

Cheeks coloring, Dean stutters, “Uh, well, the college route—it wasn’t for me. So that’s a negative.”

“College is an ample waste of time, I don’t blame you,” Cas says. There’s a noise in the background that Dean can’t quite identify. “Dean, I’m sorry to cut this short, but my mother needs help dealing with the movers.”

“Oh, sure, Cas, no prob.” Dean looks up at Sam, who is gesticulating wildly, miming out a pen and paper like a crazy person. “Do you uh…”

“Dean—” Cas says at the same time. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, you go,” Dean says, smacking his forehead with a palm.

“I was just—I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee. Maybe catch up. I know it’s been a while, but—”

“Yes!” Dean blurts out. He gapes at Sam, who is giving him a very enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Yeah, uh—that’d be awesome, Cas.”

He can hear the smile in Cas’ voice when he says, “Wonderful. I’ll give you my number.”

Sam digs in his pocket and flicks a pencil at Dean’s head. Dean quickly scribbles down the number Cas gives him over the phone, on the yellowed paper just under Cas’ childhood one.

“So I’ll just text you some times and days, then?” Dean asks.

“That’d be wonderful.” Cas pauses. “Thank you for calling, Dean.”

“Uh, sure, Cas. Thank you for, uh. Answering, I guess.”

Cas laughs. Dean could listen to that laugh for days. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Ciao, Cas.” Dean flips his phone shuts and yells at it, “CIAO? Who the fuck do I think I am!?”

“We’re looking him up on Facebook!” Sam declares, making a nose-dive for his backpack. He yanks out his turn-of-the-dark-ages laptop and begins to wildly type.

Dean lays on the ground and pulls the pink crop top over his face. “That was the fucking worst thing I’ve ever done,” Dean declares.

“What’s his last name?”

“Novak,” Dean groans into the fabric. “I’m gonna text him, but he won’t text me back, because who would text back a psychopath that just randomly calls your childhood best friend’s phone number—”

“Dean,” Sam says.

“—and what if he’s the psychopath, or worse, not even Cas and he was just pretending and I meet up with him and get killed or worse he steals Baby and—”

“Dean,” Sam barks.

“What,” Dean yells back, flinging the crop top off his head.

Sam turns the laptop around and taps, hard, on the screen. “Dean, your childhood best friend is hot.”

Squinting, Dean raises his head toward the Facebook page sprawled out on the screen. There’s a picture of a very blue-eyed, very chiseled, very dark-haired man smiling in his profile picture. Dean can immediately match the voice to the face—he even recognizes remnants of young, eight-year-old Cas in between those smile lines—and his soul leaves his body for a moment.

“I need to text him immediately,” Dean says, wide eyed, to Sam.

“You need to text him immediately,” Sam agrees.

(Dean does, of course, after many beers and a lot of texting with subsequent deleting. It’s a story that Sam loves to tell at Dean and Cas’ wedding, a few years later.)

#destiel #destiel drabble #inacatastrophicmind #starsmish #woefulcas #spncreatorsdaily #mowripro #wanderingwrites #anyway there it is #*flings it into the universe*

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pug-bitch · 4 years

Text

Smiles every day (One-shot)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez and...another pairing but you’ve guessed by now :D

Rating: PG, but as always my foul mouth couldn’t help itself and let some bad words slip through the cracks :p.

Word count: about 2,500

Notes: This is set after the events of my previous one-shot, The Parent Trap! So, roughly 2+ years after the events of Book Two. I can’t help myself, I thought I would just not spoil anything in terms of Book Two, but I’m sure you guys are already seeing pretty clearly in everything I’m doing by now, so… let’s just enjoy this :D I hope you like!

*****

‘Knock knock!’

Maxwell peeks his head through the door before Amara can respond, and he’s immediately greeted by an overly excited Yoda.

‘Hey love,’ Amara says with a smile, ‘come in, don’t mind the mess.’

Maxwell looks around, thinking that the place is immaculate compared to his on a good day. Especially now. ‘Don’t get up!’ He warns, lowering himself to hug Amara where she’s sitting.

Ever since she and Drake told them about the pregnancy, after their return from Philly, Max has been completely overprotective of Amara, treating her as though she may break. Nothing bad can happen to his Little Blossom.

‘Can I make you some coffee? I was just doing some work, but it’s time for a break anyway.’

‘No!’ Max protests, ‘I can do it.’

Amara rolls her eyes. ‘You and Drake are exactly the same. I’m three months along, I’m not ready to pop yet. I can still make a coffee.’ She closes her laptop and gestures for Max to follow her to the kitchen. ‘That’s why I sent Drake to work. He hasn’t been at the restaurant since we got back, and he really needed to get out of my face.’ She chuckles.

Maxwell smiles warmly at her, all the while absentmindedly petting Yoda. ‘Sorry, Little Blossom. I completely understand his point of view, though, we both know how you can overdo it, so—‘

Amara holds up her hand to shut him up. ‘Alright, that’s enough pregnancy talk. Tell me about you, instead. How’s the big move-in treating you?’

Maxwell can’t contain his smile. ‘Oh, just awesome. I’m realizing how ready I was for this. We’re starting to really get our bearings, after all, it’s been a month now, and Callie seems to be really in love with the house, and the proximity to the Beaumont estate and the animals… We’re just having a blast.’ He pauses. ‘Amara, there’s something I need to tell you. Show you. I guess.’

Amara turns to him and hands him an espresso cup. ‘Yeah?’ She asks worriedly.

Max wrings his hands together nervously. ‘Wow,’ he whispers, ‘this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I, um… you know how much I love your brother. More than anything. And, you know, I may be a little… out of control sometimes, and I may not be the most mature.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I guess you could say I’m a bit impulsive. Like when I bought Bradley Cooper, for instance, I mean, great decision, he’s the best goat I’ve ever met, but at the same time, I did buy him on a whim at the farmers’ market one morning.’

Amara squints at him as she steeps her tea. ‘Babe, get back on track.’

Maxwell chuckles, tapping his pocket to check it’s still there. Oh boy, he thinks, if he’s already nervous now, how is it gonna be tonight? ‘Yes,’ he continues, ‘you’re right. So, as I was saying, I’m usually pretty impulsive. But this isn’t impulsive. It’s thought through, it’s been on my mind for the past few months, and, if I’m being honest… for the past two years, really.’ He takes a deep breath and puts the box on the table.

Amara’s eyes are like saucers. ‘Is this…?’ She stammers.

He nods, and pushes the box towards her. She takes it tentatively.

As she opens it, her eyes fill with happy tears. ‘Maxxie… this is so lovely.’

He breathes a bit more easily. ‘Yeah?’ He asks. ‘You think he’ll like it?’

Amara nods furiously. ‘Oh yeah. He definitely will.’ She hands him the box back.

Maxwell can barely keep himself together as he takes another look at the ring he picked for Michael. A simple gold band, classy like the man he loves. He closes the box and pulls another from his other pocket. ‘Now there is something else that I’d like you to see. It’s a little… out there. Don’t hold back on feedback.’

Amara wipes a tiny tear and holds out her hand to take the little box. It’s small, light purple, made of velvet. When she opens it, she gasps. ‘Oh Max, it’s so lovely. Fuck, this is so thoughtful.’ She takes the little pendant in her hand to get a closer look.

Max nods. ‘Phew. I didn’t want to leave her out of this decision, so I had this engraved for her. Is it too much?’

Amara admires the delicate gold pendant, on a intricate little chain. The pendant is a lovely oval, with an engraved peacock, and the words ‘We are family’ etched on it. On the peacock’s head, three teeny-tiny aquamarine stones.

‘Fucking hormones,’ Amara mutters as she wipes away more tears that keep coming. ‘Callie will love it.’

*****

Amara closes the door behind Maxwell and takes Yoda in her arms. ‘Are you excited too, baby?’ She whispers, kissing the little corgi’s head. She plops down on the couch to snuggle with the dog, who’s all too happy to get so much attention.

As she’s halfway done with her episode of Schitt’s Creek, the front door opens. ‘Hey babe,’ Drake says with a smile.

Amara sits up. ‘Hey hun, you’re back so soon!’

Drake throws his jacket on a chair and joins her on the couch. He ruffle’s Yoda’s hair and gestures for Amara to lay down in his arms. ‘I missed you.’

Amara smiles as she nuzzles into Drake’s neck. He might be annoying and overly worried, but he’s her pain in the ass. ‘I missed you too,’ she whispers as she kisses him deeply. ‘How was the restaurant?’

Drake smiles. ‘Pretty good. They barely need me over there. Rashad’s got the situation under control as always, and the kitchen team is awesome. They said they’d handle things whenever I can’t be there.’ He kisses her hair softly. ‘I’m lucky to have them.’

Amara smiles. She’s happy to see him so happy at work. It wasn’t a given when he opened his restaurant a year ago, but everything worked out for the better, and now he can fully enjoy the perks of doing what he loves. Plus, Rashad’s investment money was nothing to scoff at.

‘What about you, babe?’ Drake asks. ‘What have you been up to?’

In her comfortable state, she almost opens her mouth to tell her about her own morning and about Max’s news, but she refrains. After all, he asked her to keep it to herself until Michael has given a response. Not that he would ever say no, but she has to respect Max’s wishes.

She clears her throat. ‘Oh, you know. Yoda and I just hung out. Watched Schitt’s Creek. I did some studying for the Cordonian detective exam. The usual.’

Drake frowns and nods. ‘Hm. Good.’

Shit, she thinks. He knows she’s lying. Quick, she needs to change the subject. ‘Oh, and look, I did some research for the nursery, and I think we should go with this.’ She opens a new window on her laptop and shows Drake some furniture options.

Drake smiles and puts his hand on her already growing bump. ‘Fuck,’ he says, ‘this is so exciting, I can’t wait to meet our little Peanut.’

*****

Drake is slicing some peppers to dip in his homemade hummus while Amara is making some mocktails. Out of solidarity, he’s not drinking during her pregnancy either, so they have gotten quite creative with Amara’s cocktail book. Tonight, they’re having virgin piña coladas.

He hears a car pull up into the driveway, and looks through the window to see Michael’s Honda. ‘Hey babe,’ he says to Amara, ‘your brother’s here with Max and Callie.’

Amara stops the blender and gasps. ‘Yeah?’ She asks excitedly.

Drake raises an eyebrow. They saw them yesterday, why is she so excited all of a sudden? ‘Y-yeah. We might wanna make a little more drinks.’

Amara can’t contain an infectious smile. ‘Mmhm,’ she nods, biting her lip.

‘Alright, weirdo, I’m gonna go open the door,’ Drake chuckles.

Callie is the first one to come in, and she throws herself in Drake’s arms. ‘Uncle Drake!!’ She exclaims. ‘It smells good in here, what did you make?’

Drake hugs her back and laughs. ‘I’m making hummus, and some veal stew.’

‘Yay!’ She yells, throwing her hands in the air.

Michael and Maxwell aren’t far behind, and they both hug Drake as they come in. Callie facetiously mimes zipping up her mouth, and plops down on the floor next to Yoda.

Maxwell clears his throat and says, ‘Hey guys, um, sorry to come by unannounced—‘ he winks to Amara, who looks like she’s about to explode out of excitement— ‘but… we have something to tell you.’

He looks to Michael, who continues, beaming with joy. ‘So, today, Maxwell proposed to me, and…’ he shows off his left hand. ‘Obviously I said yes. We’re getting married!’

Drake’s jaw drops. ‘Guys!’ He exclaims. ‘Congratulations!’

Amara jumps up and down. ‘I’m so happy for you!!!’ She wraps them both in a warm hug. ‘Congrats!’

Drake joins in, as he struggles to keep his shit together. ‘Guys, this is such great news.’ Oh no, he thinks. It’s coming. ‘I, um…’

‘Babe, are you okay?’ Amara asks with a look of concern on her face.

Drake nods, fighting back tears. ‘Yeah, I’m just… shit.’

Callie shoots him daggers. ‘That’s a dollar in the jar, Uncle Drake!’

Drake can’t stop the tears from falling. ‘Sorry kid. Sorry guys. This is just so great, I don’t know what the… what is wrong with me, it’s just…’

‘Awwwww, Drakey,’ Maxwell squeals, ‘you’re too cute when you’re emotional!’

Drake takes a deep breath. ‘Shit—sorry, I know, another dollar for the jar—guys, I don’t know what’s going on with me, it’s just…’ he pauses and sighs. ‘You’ve been through so much together, and Max, seeing you with Callie has been so inspiring.’

Michael wipes off a tear. ‘Drake, come over here. You need a hug.’

They all laugh as Drake complies.

Callie taps her aunt’s leg. ‘Hey Auntie Amara, can I sleep over?’

Amara giggles, ‘Of course sweetie, tonight?’

Callie nods. ‘Daddy and Max are going to a restaurant to celebrate.’

Michael breaks away from the hug and grimaces, ‘Oh yeah, right, that’s partly why we came here… is it ok for Callie to stay here tonight? Max got us a reservation for three, but Callie doesn’t want to go…’

Callie nods. ‘It’s very boring. I’d rather be here and eat some veal with you.’

Drake chuckles. ‘Sure. The more the merrier.’

Maxwell jumps up and down. ‘Thank you guys! We tried my brother, but um… there was an incident.’

Callie sighs in an exasperated way. ‘Auntie Amara,’ she says gravely. ‘Bartie threw up on my shoe.’ She pauses dramatically. ‘On my shoe.’

Amara gasps. ‘Oh wow, well we can’t have that! I promise you no one will throw up on you here.’ She turns to Michael and whispers, ‘Thank God my morning sickness is over.’

Michael laughs. ‘Good thing! Guys, we really appreciate it, and sorry for the late notice.’

Amara shrugs. ‘No problem. I had a hunch this would happen. Come on, Callie, let’s get you situated in the guest room, and then we’ll have a mocktail, ok?’

Callie claps in excitement. ‘Yay, a cocktail!’

Drake looks at his wife disappear into the guest room with their little niece, and turns to the guys. ‘Sorry again for the… whatever the fuck that was. I’m so happy for you guys.’

Michael claps Drake’s back. ‘No worries, Drake. It’s nice to see you so in touch with your emotions. Welcome to being a dad…’

Drake chuckles. ‘Yeah, I can’t even blame the hormones, but here we fuckin’ are. About tonight, do you guys want me to call my buddy at the Portavira Inn? See if he’s got a suite available? Since we’ve got Callie…’

Michael looks at Maxwell, and they both nod enthusiastically. ‘Thank you, Drake,’ Maxwell says, pulling him into another hug. ‘That’s so sweet! We’d love that.’

Drake grabs his phone. ‘Alright, let me give him a call, then. Take a seat, you guys can have a little hummus with us before leaving, right?’

*****

Once Max and Michael have left, Amara, Drake, and Callie sat down for dinner, punctuated with endless chatter from Callie, and little excited yaps from Yoda. Amara looks on to her little niece with love. She could get used to this.

As Amara gets up to clear the table, Drake stops her in her tracks. ‘Nope, Suarez, you’re going on the couch with your niece to rest. I got it.’

Amara almost protests, and then remembers that she’s about to insist on doing dishes, which is essentially insane. She nods and kisses her husband on the lips. ‘Thanks, babe. Come on, Callie, let’s go color!’

‘YAY!’ Callie exclaims, as if she couldn’t ever run out of energy. ‘Auntie Amara, can you paint my toenails while I color?’

Drake peeks his head from the kitchen. ‘Um, I don’t know if nail polish is safe for a pregnant woman, hun.’

Amara takes a deep breath. ‘Drake Walker. If you take nail polish away from me, I got nothing left. Please chill out.’

He holds his hands up in defeat. ‘Alright. Sorry. Overprotective mode deactivated.’

Callie giggles. ‘Yeah, chill out, Uncle Drake. Auntie’s not gonna eat the nail polish. She’s not stupid.’

Callie picks a gold nail polish, which Amara gleefully applies on her niece’s toes. Callie sticks out her tongue as she applies herself to coloring a drawing of a cow in a field. Amara looks up at her little niece, all smiles. ‘So babe,’ she asks. ‘Did you like your necklace?’

Callie nods enthusiastically. ‘Oh yeah. It’s so beautiful.’ She fishes it out of her top and shows it off to her aunt. ‘I love the little peacock. It’s so cute.’

Amara oohs and aahs as if she’d never seen it before. ‘It’s gorgeous, sweetie. Were you surprised, today?’

Callie shakes her head. ‘No. Maxxie asked me last week if it was okay. He said it’s my decision. I said of course, because I love having as many daddies as possible.’

Amara’s heart skips a beat. ‘Yeah?’ She asks, her voice breaking.

Callie nods. ‘Yeah. It’s scary having just one daddy. Papi’s in my heart, but he’s not here everyday to cheer up Daddy or play with me, you know.’

Shit, Amara thinks. It’s gonna take a lot of focusing on the nail painting in order not to cry to this one. ‘I know, sweetie,’ she manages to say. ‘But remember what your necklace says, right? We are family. All of us.’

Callie beams. ‘Yeah. I know. I like that.’ She pauses. ‘Besides, living with Maxxie and Daddy is so much fun that I want it to continue forever. That’s why I said it’s okay with me. Daddy was really sad before he met Maxxie. Now he smiles every day.’

Amara gasps for air. Nope, she can’t cry now. Poker face, Suarez. ‘That’s right,’ she says softly, ‘and Daddy also makes Maxxie really happy.’

Callie smiles. ‘That’s true! Maxxie is always smiling.’ She looks up at her aunt. ‘You used to never smile. Like, never never. And then you came here to Cordonia and you smile all the time. It’s nice.’

‘You’re right,’ Amara chuckles. ‘It is nice.’

Callie points at Amara’s belly. ‘And I think he’s gonna smile a lot too. Because I’m gonna be the best big cousin ever.’ She pauses. ‘Unless he throws up on my shoe.’

Amara laughs wholeheartedly. ‘Yeah? We’ll do our best to avoid it, then.’

Callie giggles. ‘I’m excited to see him, I think he’s gonna be cute.’

‘You got that right,’ Amara chuckles. ‘So, you think it’s gonna be a boy, huh?’

Callie makes a face and snorts. ‘Oh yeah. But you should now that I’m still gonna paint his nails.’

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983 , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love , @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @drxkewalker @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover @princessleac1

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#drake walker x amara suarez #one shot #dramara #drake walker x mc #drake walker #trr fanfic #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 11 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: If you’d like to see a face claim for Briony, send me a message and I will send you a pic.

Another thing people have started doing is asking questions about Morgan and Bee’s relationship - the stuff you don’t see in the chapters. If you have questions about canon, please send me an ask and I’ll answer it. There’s a tag for this: morgan and briony canon

Line breaks also mysteriously disappeared because Tumblr is Tumblr so I guess the stars will have to do to denote a change in scene.

For the first time in a while, Briony was happy.

It wasn’t that she was ever depressed. Most of the time, she was too busy and too driven to feel any other emotion besides determination. The need to get shit done without giving it much thought. She just didn’t have the luxury to feel anything else. Classes still stressed her out, she still hated marking first year undergraduate essays, and she was still poor as fuck. But she was happy. Unapologetically happy.

It was a combination of things. Morgan, obviously, played a pretty big role in it all. She didn’t think she could be this happy in a relationship, judging by her past ones, but it was possible with Morgan. She was doing well in her courses and maintaining a high GPA – she even aced that behavioural economics assignment – and her professors had agreed to be her references and put in a good word for her job applications to the “Big Five” banks. Mason’s various funding grants had been accepted, which meant his PhD was going to continue to be fully funded. Angie had gotten a promotion at Indigo head office, which meant she was pushing less paper and directing others to push the paper she was no longer pushing. Angie also moved up a pay grade, which was always nice. She’d finished watching Schitt’s Creek with Morgan and they had moved on to Kim’s Convenience. The Leafs were playing really well. Morgan had even set a new record for the best five game start by a defenseman in the modern era, passing Bobby Orr, and he was set to shatter all expectations this season. They had celebrated accordingly.

Everything just seemed to be working out.

Even tonight. It was a Wednesday but Bee had done enough schoolwork to be able to attend the Leafs game against the San Jose Sharks. She was glad she did, because the boys ended up winning 5-3, with John and Auston getting two goals each. The team had played really well, and although at some points it looked like the Sharks were going to catch up, Fred put up his wall.

After the final buzzer rang and the stars of the night were announced, fans began to file out of the arena. It became a routine for Bee to file out with the wives and wait in the employee area, near the locker room, where they boys would meet them. She followed Aryne and Christina as the continued to discuss her exam schedule, Christina making sure the Christmas party the Marleau family were hosting didn’t interfere with her schedule.

As Morgan drove through the streets of Toronto, on his now familiar route to Briony’s apartment before he’d turn around and go back to his, he kept her hand clasped in his and in his lap. He would look over to her at red lights, and she’d catch him and smile and laugh, embarrassed, but he’d just do it again at the next light. The Leafs were going on a roadtrip for a week, to Minnesota and Buffalo, so he wanted to make sure he got a good look at her before he left. Not that he didn’t look at her enough.

“Can you drop me off at the Metro at Spadina, actually?” she said as they passed College Street. “I need to pick up some groceries I ran out of.”

“Can’t wait till tomorrow?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I need milk for my coffee. You know how I think coffee is too bitter without milk.”

He smiled. He learned that early. She made fun of him for how much sugar he put in his, whereas she had weaned off it in the past year. “Okay, fine. I can wait for you.”

“No no no, you go home and you go to bed,” she said. “You need your rest. Metro is like a three minute walk from my apartment. I’ll be okay.”

“Briony.”

“I’ll be okay,” she repeated, squeezing his hand.

When Morgan finally got to Metro, he pulled up to the curb and put his car in park. Briony gathered her bag and made sure nothing fell out before looking at him. He leaned over the centre console, giving her light kisses. There were many, and only stopped when Briony began to giggle from all of them.

“I’m gonna see you tomorrow right? Before I leave for the road trip?”

“Of course,” she nodded her head, and Morgan leaned in for another kiss. And another. And another.

“I’m gonna go now,” Briony whispered in between one.

“No.”

She laughed, pulling away. “Bye Morgan.”

“One more.”

She digressed. She leaned in one more time and he kissed her, making sure his tongue grazed her bottom lip to leave her wanting more. When she pulled away, she slapped his forearm playfully. “Tease.”

“You’re one to talk.”

She gave him a look, opening the door before climbing out. “Drive safe,” she called before slamming it shut. He watched as she walked in, and watched until he couldn’t see her in the store anymore. Licking his lips, he put his car in drive.

***

As Morgan settled into his bedroom, he rushed to take off his suit and change into an old t-shirt he was using as his pajamas. He felt so lazy that he didn’t even hang his suit or fold his pants properly – he just left them flat on the chair before walking into his ensuite to brush his teeth lazily before bed. Eventually, he plugged in his phone, climbed into bed, and wrapped the covers around him.

He checked his phone one more time. His lock screen, a picture of Briony sitting on his lap as they both smiled at the camera, opened up to his background: a picture of him and Briony from the fall. They had gone for a walk in Trinity Bellwoods and had stopped under a tree to lay down for a bit. Her head was on his chest, her hair spread out on it, and his arm was around her tightly. It was their sleeping position almost every time they were in the same bed together (besides the traditional spooning), so it was no wonder that they ended up taking a quick nap under the tree. Sometimes he would catch himself staring at his phone just to look at the pictures.

After clearing all his notifications, he set his phone down on his bedside table and closed his eyes. With the hockey schedule in full swing, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. His mind was just as tired as his body these days, and he found his eyes falling heavier and heavier with each passing second.

Until his phone rang.

He almost didn’t hear it; he almost thought it was a dream, but he eventually regained enough consciousness to realize it was blasting loudly. He grumbled, turning over to his side and grabbing to answer it. He didn’t bother looking at the caller ID because he knew the brightness of the screen would hurt his eyes. If it were Auston or any of the guys, he’d murder them.

“Hello?” he grumbled into the phone.

“M-M-M-Mo…” he heard Briony’s voice shake on the other end.

His eyes immediately went wide at the sound of her voice. Why was she calling so late at night? “Briony?”

“M-Mo…”

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

She sounded like she was hyperventilating but trying to hide it. “Mo, s-somebody broke into my ap-partment,” she hiccupped. “Somebody b-b-broke in and took all my st-stuff-f.”

Morgan shot up from his bed and threw the covers off his body. “Have you called the police?”

“M-M-Mo, they took my laptop. They took my j-j-jewellery box. T-T-They t-t-took --”

“Briony, did you call the police?” he asked more firmly. His heart was running a mile a minute now.

“Y-Yes,” her voice continued to shake. “M-Mo…they took everything. Even my clothes.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. He rushed to throw on a hoodie he left on his chair and struggled to put on a pair of track pants without falling over. “I’m on my way,” he said quickly. “Are the cops coming?”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat a few times. “M-Mo…”

“Did the cops say they were on their way?”

“Y-Y-Yeah, they’ve sent s-someone and he’s j-j-just out-tside now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five,” he said, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him. “Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

“M-M-Mo, what am I gonna do?” she cried. “Th-They stole everything. My front window is b-broken a-a-and I d-d-don’t know --”

“Briony it’s going to be okay,” he assured her.

“N-No it’s-s-s n-not.”

“Yes it is. I’m on my way.”

***

Morgan was sure he sped through the streets, probably even ran a couple of red lights, because he made it up to the Annex in record time. By the time he got to her apartment, there was already a cop car with its lights flashing outside. He didn’t even attempt to park his car; he practically left it in the middle of street, behind the cop car, and rushed towards the front door. He noticed the front bay window completely smashed, glass all over the front lawn.

When he opened the door to her apartment, like he had so many times before, he saw her standing with the police officer. She immediately turned her head the second she heard the door open and when she realized it was him, ran towards him. “Morgan!”

She clung on to him for dear life. She began crying again as she buried her head in his chest. It was only then when he noticed the state of the apartment – broken glass near the window; all drawers open or literally taken out of the slot and thrown half way across the room; mud all over the floor from muddy boots; her kitchen cabinets open and her food thrown everywhere. It looked like a tornado passed through. There were two other people in the apartment that looked like they were dusting for prints. “Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Did you see them?” Another head shake.

He noticed the police officer approach him. “My guess is you are the boyfriend.”

“Yes sir.”

“Ms. McTavish mentioned you stay over sometimes. Do you keep any valuables at the apartment?”

Morgan shook his head. “No sir. I…what happened?” Briony had pulled away and was wiping the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What happened?” he asked her directly.

“W-When I c-c-came back from the g-grocery store I noticed the w-w-window, and I ran inside and I s-saw th-th-this,” she stuttered out. “I d-d-don’t…I d-don’t know…”

“We are assuming it happened during the period she was absent from the residence,” the police officer said. “I’ll just need to finish writing Ms. McTavish’s statement and record a list of all her belongings that were stolen.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan said, grabbing at Briony’s hand. He looked around again to see more mess. Her covers thrown off her bed, even the mattress protector gone – clearly whoever did this was banking on the old ‘keep your money under the bed’ trick; her fridge door wide open, contents again spewed all over the floor. He was feeling more and more sick the more he took in. He couldn’t imagine how violated Briony must be feeling.

“My l-l-laptop is the b-biggest thing,” she began. “A-And they t-t-took my c-clothes. Almost all my c-clothes.”

“Were there any items of significant value?”

She shook her head vehemently. “And then my j-jewellery box.”

“Again, any items of significant value? Family heirlooms?”

“No.”

Morgan knew Briony didn’t have much, and he knew she didn’t spend much, but his heart broke when she had to give the officer an itemized list of all the clothes and pieces of jewellery that were stolen and how much she had paid for them. He had $200 dollar shirts and custom suits hanging in his closet, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard Briony go above $30 for how much she spent on something. The fact that she could even give the officer an itemized list of every piece of clothing and every little piece of jewellery she had meant something. It meant she knew exactly what she owned – however little it was – and she kept tabs on it all. He wasn’t even sure about that. He didn’t really keep tabs on things like he should. If the same thing ever happened to him, he wouldn’t be able to give an accurate number or descriptions. He could remember some prices of significance, like his $8000 watch or the general ballpark he paid for all his pairs of Jordan shoes, but he could never be specific like she was doing.

“Okay Ms. McTavish. I’ve already made the call for the crew to come to board up the front window and I’m going to be putting a heavy padlock on your apartment door. Do you have a place you can stay tonight?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Morgan answered for her quickly.

“Okay. Once the boards are up I’ll file your report and statement. I’m also going to ask your neighbours if they saw or heard any suspicious activity. I suggest you take whatever belongings you can for now, anything of value or significance that perhaps the intruder didn’t take, and I will call you tomorrow to discuss your options,” the officer informed her.

“W-What about my stuff?”

“Pardon me?”

“M-My belongings. What’s gonna happen with finding my s-stuff?”

The officer gave her a concerned look. He looked at Morgan briefly too before taking a deep breath. “Ms. McTavish, there’s really nothing further we can do unless we find the culprit. Usually in these situations the culprit keeps the items or sells them for any value, if they are even of any value. We can look at local pawn businesses in the area, but…”

“So my stuff is just gone again.”

The officer nodded his head once, his face still concerned. “I will try my hardest. Maybe I’ll look in some of the electronic shops for your laptop, but I really can’t guarantee anything.”

The only things left to salvage were Briony’s books. Because of course the thief didn’t take the fucking books. The officer waited for them as she moved in a complete daze around her apartment – no more tears, but her face still stained with them, and with an aura of fear about her. Morgan could see her hands trembling as she grabbed at her textbooks, the ones she was using this semester in particular, and handed them to Morgan. She then looked at her small half bookshelf of only two rows, with all the fiction books she had accumulated from various book sales – the book sales she told Morgan about in one of their first conversations – and looked at him. “Will this fit in your car?” her voice trembling as much as her hands.

“Of course. What else do you want to grab?”

“That’s it.”

“Briony --”

“I want to go now.”

“B--”

“Please, Morgan. I don’t want to be here anymore. Please.”

“Come here. Come here,” he outstretched his arms to her, and she began crying again as she nestled into his hug and buried her face in his chest. “It’s gonna be okay baby.”

“Can we p-p-please just g-grab my b-b-books and g-go,” she mumbled into his chest. “There’s nothing else, M-Morgan. N-N-Nothing else is-s-s mine. It all came with the apartment.”

He nodded his head, moving to give her the textbooks she had handed to him. He bent at the knees and picked up the bookshelf easily, all the books still in it. He looked at the officer. “We’re done. You can lock it up.”

The officer nodded his head. “Alright then. You stay safe. I will call you tomorrow for further information.” He locked up the door with a padlock as they left, and waited for the crew to arrive to put up the wood boards on the broken windows.

Morgan carried the bookshelf and placed it into the trunk of his car. Briony, still clutching her textbooks, climbed into the front seat. When he climbed in and started the car, he looked over at her. Her cheeks were fresh with tears, her winter jacket haphazardly put on. He reached over the centre console and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. “It’s going to be okay, Briony.”

She tucked her knees into chest as he drove away from her apartment, her textbooks where her feet were supposed to be. She looked out the window, tears still streaming down her face occasionally. As the city streets passed by her, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness within her; an emptiness that felt all too familiar. An emptiness that seemed to follow her for her entire life. She came from nothing, and now she had nothing. She could accumulate, she could amass, but she would always end up empty. The emptiness was not a new feeling, but it didn’t hurt any less just because she had felt it before. It hurt more now because she knew how it felt to be full.

Everything was a blur until she climbed into bed. She knew at some point they arrived at his apartment, and they got out of the car and took the elevator to his place, but she didn’t remember. She didn’t remember anything until she got into bed and practically wrapped her body around Morgan’s to feel any semblance of safety. Despite the cold outside and the cold in her body, he felt so warm and so full, and she wanted desperately to feel that too. She knew she wouldn’t – not anytime soon – but it was worth a try. If she couldn’t have it, she could at least feel it.

“Briony…” Morgan’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around her, placing light kisses on her forehead and the crown of her head. “Briony, look at me. Please.” She pulled away only slightly, enough to get a look at his face. Her eyes were red and puffy still from all the tears. “I need to know what happened in your childhood now,” he said.

She shook her head. “No.”

“You said ‘So my stuff is just gone again’ to the police officer.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony, please. Please.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I th-thought I was finally safe,” she hiccupped again, still shaking slightly as Morgan held on to her.

“What do you mean?”

“Th-Th-This happened all the time as a k-kid. All the t-t-time,” she revealed finally, wiping a stray tear away. “Esp-p-pecially when we were between places. Or at the homeless sh-shelt-t-ters. And they’d t-take all my mom’s s-s-stuff. They’d take m-my st-stuff too. Anything they thought was of value. Th-That’s why I always ended up w-with n-n-nothing. And that’s w-why we’d always end up with n-nothing. I was always s-so s-s-scared. We’d always have to st-start from s-s-scratch.”

In-between places. Homeless shelters. They’d take my stuff. Starting from scratch. Morgan felt sick to his stomach. This had happened to her before. Often. As a fucking child. As a child with an alcoholic mother who had no will to protect her. With a mother who had no will to attempt to make their situation better. How somebody could create that environment for a child; how someone could be complacent in making a child that scared; how someone could not care about their child to that degree, Morgan would never be able to understand.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Morgan said. “You’re safe with me. You don’t have to worry.”

“She’d never t-tell me everything was going to be okay because sh-she knew it was never going to be ok-kay,” Briony continued, and Morgan knew she was talking about her mother. “And when I finally l-left I thought everything was going to be okay.”

“I’ve got you now. I’m here for you now. It’s going to be okay.”

“N-No it’s n-n-not,” she shook her head, unable to believe him. “M-My laptop’s gone, I have no c-clothes, I didn’t even have m-m-much to begin with and now I have n-nothing again and-d- I --”

“Briony, no, no,” Morgan repeated, squeezing her tighter. “You have me. You have me. You don’t have nothing, you have me. I don’t want you going through this alone. You can’t go through this alone. Because you’re not alone anymore.”

She buried her face in his chest again, unable to cope with his words as tears streamed down her face. There was too much emptiness, too much pain. She could only cry herself to sleep, and Morgan, heartbroken, could only listen, his heart breaking with each passing sob, each passing tear he felt wash his skin, each passing tremble of her body.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

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littleplebe · 5 years

Text

A sweet nothing for one of my favourite human writing machines @dresupi. Happy birthday, my friend. You’re an inspiration. 💕

Shout out to the absolutely amazing @aenariasbookshelf for her cheerleading and hand holding.

Note: If I were you, I’d read Pietro’s lines with his signature accent. It helps. I think.

“This forest is dangerous place for girl like you.”

The accent. It was thick and heavy. Russian, she decided after some thought. The words sounded like a warning, almost a promise of something bad about to happen; but the face that went with the words was too young, too curious to be threatening.

“What about a boy like yourself?”

A slight curve of lips. A smirk that reminded her of the wolf in the fairytale Red Riding Hood. “I can take care of myself.”

“So can I.”

“Maybe so. But can you do this?”

There was a flash of something. The wind blew past her in an unusual sort of way and she felt herself falling… and falling… and falling.

Darcy screamed. Her eyes snapped open to find her fellow flight passengers looking at her in alarm. Beside her, Jane jerked awake, wild and alert.

“Wha… what happened?”

Darcy gulped. An apology was on the tip of her tongue but her body felt rigid and heavy, almost as if she was frozen in place, staring straight ahead as she tried and failed to hold on to the last vestiges of her dream.

“Hello! Earth to, Darcy.” Jane placed a hand on hers, trying to get her attention. “Woah, you’re freezing!”

“Sorry,” came out nearly a minute later as her body slowly relaxed and her brain regained enough awareness to realize that a member of the cabin crew was standing there with a glass of water and blanket in her hands.

“Don’t apologize,” Jane said, taking the blanket from the woman’s hand and draping it over Darcy’s lap. “Tell me what happened.”

“Bad dream, I think,” Darcy mumbled, gratefully sipping the warm water, feeling it slide down her throat all the way to her stomach. It felt unexpectedly good.

“You think?”

Darcy shrugged. She couldn’t remember what she had been dreaming about. She couldn’t even recall what she was feeling just a moment ago when she had woken up screaming. It should have frustrated her since she was just as confused as Jane, but it didn’t really. Darcy Lewis was someone who didn’t dwell on stuff. She preferred living in the moment. And this moment with Jane, where they were flying to a new location to live and work with new people, was pretty incredible.

“Darcy, are you sure you’re okay?”

Perhaps a change of subject was in order.

“Yes. Are we there yet?”

Almost as if he had heard her, the pilot’s voice rang out through the speakers, informing them all they had reached New York and would be landing soon.

Darcy grinned at Jane. “We’re gonna take the city by storm, Janey.”

It was nice to see the concern on her friend’s face melt into excitement.

“What’s a place like you doing in a girl like this?”

The accent. It was thick and heavy. Russian, she decided after some thought. The words made her smile even as the face made her heart beat a little faster. She turned so she was facing him, openly checking him out to see whether it would make him uncomfortable. It didn’t.

“You mean on this balcony or in this tower?”

“Tower,” he said after a moment, coming to stand next to her, resting his elbows on the sleek wooden railing as he studied her with interest.

She could sense his eyes linger on the fanny pack around her waist and the knee-length Capri she was wearing. She knew she looked like someone who was about to go off camping into the woods, but that is how she dressed now, ready for any type of world ending situation. She had started wearing the fanny pack after the Destroyer attack. It carried things important to her and things that would be helpful in difficult circumstances. Like her dad used to say, “It never hurts to be prepared, kiddo.”

“Let’s just say I’m attracted to opulence,” she replied with a straight face, uncaring whether he’d catch on to her sarcasm.

Surprisingly, he did and an amused little smirk formed on his face. It looked so familiar that for a second, Darcy thought she was having déjà vu. She returned his smile and let her eyes sweep over the stunning Manhattan skyline. The sun was about to go down and she had never seen a more orange sky. There were hints of pink and yellow here and there, enhancing the beauty of the scene, making it a perfectly wonderful sight to behold. Anyone who had clearance to this part of the tower was very lucky.

The stranger seemed to think so too because he casually revealed, “I come here to think.”

Darcy feigned surprise. “Oh, there’s a brain behind that pretty face?”

“Hah-ha.” He moved his elbow as if to nudge her playfully but thought better of it, tucking it back into his body at the last second. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as he let on. “You’re new, no?”

“Nope. Been working here for years,” she lied, silently admiring the brown locks of hair falling over his forehead. He was strikingly handsome, almost to the point of distraction. It was disconcerting.

He stared at her for a minute, then shook his head decisively. “I’d have remembered you.”

She hadn’t expected the compliment, hadn’t expected the flush of heat creeping up her neck or the strange flutter in her belly. She supposed, with a face like that, she would have remembered him too if they had ever crossed paths before.

But she wasn’t done messing with him yet. “Not if you have amnesia.”

“What’s that?”

“Memory loss.”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t have amnesia.”

“That’s what all amnesiacs say.”

She grinned when he rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a bad way to be welcomed to the Avengers Tower, by an attractive Russian man on a balcony watching a beautiful sunset.

“You again.” She would recognize that silver mop of hair anywhere. Then again, they had met just two days ago, so the memory of him was still pretty fresh in her mind.

He didn’t seem to care for her icy tone and continued looking at her with interest. His eyes flickered to the tent behind her, then to the bonfire she had built, and back to her. “What’s your name? Why are you here?”

She set aside the marshmallow she was roasting and scowled at him. “I’m not talking to you. You pushed me into the creek!”

He gave her a winning smile. “But I also pulled you out.”

“What, so you want me to thank you for that? Throw myself at your feet and refer to you as my savior?”

A look of confusion passed over his features. “Er… no.”

“There are other ways to show off your super powers, dude!” She huffed and went back to making s’mores. Silence reigned on them as she continued with her meal while he stood frozen in one spot, eyes fixed on her, looking utterly lost. It was unclear what was more disappointing to him: that she wasn’t scared of him or that she didn’t want to be friends with him. Well, excuse her for not being impressed. Thor was a literal God and he had nearly gotten her killed in New Mexico. She was done being friends with trouble. Super done.

The trees around them rustled, an owl hooted somewhere, making the hair on her arm stand on end, the fire crackled happily before her and he still stood there like a statue. It was becoming difficult to ignore his presence.

“Why are you still here?”

He blinked and then averted his eyes. “I don’t want to go back to them.”

“To whom?”

“HYDRA.”

“Why don’t you like Tony Stark?”

“He’s the reason my parents are dead.”

“Then why are you in his tower, working for him?”

“I don’t work for him. I work for SHIELD. I just live here.”

“I heard Stark himself sought you out and brought you here from Sokovia.”

“That doesn’t change my feelings for him.”

“But you don’t want him dead anymore.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Darcy jumped, nearly falling off the branch she was perched on. She had climbed up a tree to snap some pictures of her tent and the landscape from above. God knew if she’d ever have a chance to experience something like this again. Nature in its true form. Unkempt and untouched.

She glared at the man before her. He hadn’t been there a second ago and had literally appeared in the blink of an eye. “We would if you stop following me,” Darcy snapped, reaching forward to swat his arm.

Pietro laughed. It was a genuine heart-melting sound of delight. Such laughs were so rare coming from him that Darcy had learned to cherish them. He scooted forward until their knees were touching and plucked a stray leaf from her hair. Butterflies immediately erupted in her stomach and her expression softened.

“If you wanted me to stop following you, why did you tell me where you were camping next?”

Darcy turned pink. He had caught her there. It sucked that he was aware of how much she enjoyed his company but it didn’t bother her as much as it normally would have. Pietro never used that knowledge to his advantage and that kinda made him more attractive to her.

She tried to divert. “You’re lucky there are no alarms on your cell block. Aren’t you worried what would happen if Dr. List found out you’ve been breaking out every so often?”

Pietro made a rude sound of dismissal. “List is mad. Idiot person.”

“He’s the one who gave you your powers.”

“No. My powers were asleep. He brought them to life.”

“Same thing.”

“Not same thing,” came the sharp response. He got upset, and rightfully so, whenever she tried to talk to him about HYDRA or the facility where he was imprisoned. She couldn’t, for the life of her, understand why he always went back. If he hated them so much and could escape so easily, why not run away for good?

She supposed he had his secrets, she had hers.

“Are you really going away next week?”

“To London, yeah. Jane needs me.”

“For what?”

“Science stuff.”

“I need you here.”

“No, Pietro, you don’t.”

“Do you even want to go?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Sometimes I feel like I know you.”

Darcy looked up from her laptop to find him watching her… rather intently. He did that sometimes, grew intense and broody and unusually focused on her. It scared her, his attention. She shouldn’t be getting so much of it when there was someone else in the picture.

She had seen him around the tower with another woman, talking to her, having lunch with her, holding her hand… it was like a knife to the heart. Darcy had never known such jealousy before. What was it about him that called to her? Why didn’t he feel the same way? And if he could never be hers, what gave him the right to look at her like she was the most fascinating creature on the planet and how dare he say things to her that made her heart beat out of her chest?

Sometimes I feel like I know you.

There was no way she was telling him she felt the same way. Like she knew him from somewhere. Like they were meant to be together maybe…

“You do know me,” she said instead, going back to her laptop. This data needed to be typed and categorized into separate folders before Jane returned from her break.

Pietro didn’t say anything for a while.

“Nevermind. I can’t explain it.”

They were in her tent and he had just revealed something new to her.

“You have a sister?”

“Yes.”

“She has super powers too?”

“Yes.”

“And you say she’s been using them to help you break out?” She did not give him a chance to reply. “Oh my God, why doesn’t she leave with you?”

“She can’t. She’s not ready yet.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid if you knew, you’d try to save her too.”

“Damn right I would!”

“Darcy, you have to understand, we chose this. Wanda and I wanted this.”

“Why?”

“To free our country.”

“Bullshit! I chose to camp in a Hungarian jungle. That’s a choice. There’s no such thing as willingly being tortured and imprisoned by a terrorist organization.”

“You don’t understand…”

“You’re right. I’d never understand.”

“Hide me!” A dark-haired young girl wearing a black shirt and red jacket scurried into the lab and crouched under Darcy’s desk.

“Wanda, what’s up?”

It wasn’t that difficult to accept that Wanda was Pietro’s twin sister and not his girlfriend. Maybe if she had ever looked closely, she would have noticed how platonic their relationship was. She had never even seen them kiss before foolishly assuming the worst.

“It’s the Captain,” Wanda whispered, peeking out to see if she had been followed. “He’s at it again.”

“Staring?”

“Hardcore staring,” came the annoyed reply. “He thinks I don’t know but I can sense these things. I always know when someone’s looking at me.”

Darcy slid down from her chair and crouched beside Wanda. “Why don’t you just talk to him? Tell him he’s being freaky?”

“Why should I? I don’t know the guy, never talked to him save for that one time in the beginning when we were introduced and he held my hand for eight hundred years and got choked up for no reason!”

Darcy snorted. Wanda sounded so much more American these days. It was fun to hear her talk.

“Dude creeps me out,” she finished with a shudder.

“Maybe he likes you,” Darcy suggested, waggling her eyebrows. “Maybe he wants to do dirty things to you.”

“Ew, stop!” Another shudder rippled through Wanda, making Darcy laugh. “He’s old, Darcy!”

“Not that old.”

“He doesn’t like me, not like that,” Wanda stated, sounding surprisingly firm for someone who had never spoken to the man. “And it’s not just him. Agent Romanoff sometimes does it too, looks at me like I’m some kind of a miracle, like I’m going to vanish into thin air if not monitored at all times.”

“Really? That’s weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What are you going to do?”

Wanda shrugged. “Don’t know. See if I can get myself transferred to a remote SHIELD facility. I don’t need to stay in Stark’s stupid tower to become a SHIELD agent. If I talk to the right person, I could maybe be placed directly under Agent Coulson.”

“Who’s the right person?”

“Pepper Potts? Director Fury?”

Darcy nodded along absently until a thought struck her and her heart sank. “What about Pietro?”

An impish smile spread across Wanda’s face and she gave Darcy a knowing look. “He can stay here if he wants.”

“I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”

“Me, too.”

“When do you think they’ll let you out of your cells?”

“Once Wanda learns to control her powers.”

“What will you do then?”

“Go to war.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, aren’t you?”

“Have some faith, lapushka. If I’m lucky, I can even outrun death.”

“Tell me a secret.”

His answer was quick and playful. “I’d like to have super powers.”

Darcy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help matching his grin. “Wouldn’t everyone?”

They were lying side by side on the balcony where they had first met, pretending to star gaze while really just relishing this rare moment away from prying eyes. Darcy took his hand and laced their fingers together, bringing them to rest on her belly. She loved that she could do this. Hold his hand, hug him, kiss him whenever she wanted. After having pined for him for weeks, this new dynamic between them felt amazing. Darcy would even go so far as to say that apart from meeting Jane, being with Pietro was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

“No, I mean a proper secret,” she explained eagerly. “A deep, dark one that you haven’t told anyone.”

“My deep, dark secret,” Pietro echoed pensively. “Hmmm.” He tucked his other hand under his head like a pillow and regarded the stars with a thoughtful frown.

Darcy watched him, letting her eyes rake over his handsome face as she herself wondered if she had a deep, dark secret. She supposed she had secrets (who doesn’t?) but nothing deep, dark or worrisome. Definitely nothing too bizarre… save for the dreams she kept having every now and then that she could never remember.

“Don’t laugh,” Pietro began, pulling her out of her thoughts. “But there are times I feel like I shouldn’t be alive.”

Not knowing how to react, Darcy chuckled in confusion. “What?”

He laughed nervously. “Yeah. It’s difficult to explain.”

“Is it survivor’s guilt? Your parents died and you didn’t?” Darcy asked, trying to understand where he was coming from.

But Pietro simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t pinpoint where the feeling comes from.” He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a long tense minute before turning to her with raised eyebrows. “What’s your deep, dark secret?”

Darcy huffed out a laugh. “I don’t have one.”

“Then tell me something you haven’t told anyone.” He turned on his side and scooted closer to her, looking genuinely interested in what her answer would be.

“Okay,” Darcy said slowly, racking her brains. Something she hadn’t told anyone… hmm. “I’ve always wanted to go camping.”

Pietro gave her an incredulous look. “You haven’t told anyone you want to go camping?”

Darcy giggled. “No, I haven’t told anyone I was going to quit working for Jane so I could go camping.”

“Really?” He sounded impressed. “Why didn’t you?”

“Some time after the battle of New York, Jane got a call from Pepper Potts and,” here, Darcy grinned complacently, “what idiot would pass on an opportunity to work with the Avengers?”

“You say that now. Wait till you actually meet all of them,” Pietro mumbled wryly. “They’re an intense brood. Always alert. Always together. Sometimes they stare at you in a totally weird way and it creeps you the hell out!”

He sounded so much like Wanda in that moment that Darcy couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I’ve only met Thor and Bruce and they’ve been nothing but nice to me. Besides, I like it here. You and I wouldn’t have met if I had left Jane to go live in the jungle.”

“Nah, I think we’d have found our way to each other even then.”

Darcy looked at him. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“No. I believe in serendipity.”

She entered Bruce’s lab to find him engaged in a serious conversation with Tony Stark. They were speaking in unusually low tones but Darcy still managed to catch some words here and there when she went in.

“… still in prison… can’t get a hold of Pym…”

“What about strange…?”

“… and the Maximoffs…”

Darcy started at the name and the question “What about the Maximoffs?” slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Both men stopped talking and turned to stare at her in alarm. “Darcy!” Bruce exclaimed uncomfortably. “When did you come in?”

She caught a glimpse of a man with a goatee on the screen behind them but she blinked and the picture was gone.

“Just now,” she replied carefully. Maybe it had been a bad idea to barge into his lab like that but now that she was here, she wasn’t about to leave without knowing what they were saying about the Maximoff twins. “Is Pietro in trouble?” Her eyes flickered from one Avenger to another in concern.

There was a brief awkward silence before Stark responded, “No.”

“What about Wanda?” Oh God, why was she pushing her luck?

“She’s fine.”

“Then what…?”

“That’s classified, Ms. Lewis, I’m sorry.”

Darcy opened her mouth, then closed it. “You know my name?”

Stark’s lips curved up just a little. “I know everyone in my tower, honey. Especially those who walk around with fanny packs.”

Well, that was a pleasant surprise. Her respect for him increased tenfold, even though she didn’t appreciate the use of an endearment.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Darcy is Pietro’s… uh, that is to say they’re together.”

“In that case, you should join me,” Stark said, jerking his head to the door of the lab. “I was about to go and look for him.”

“Why?”

He exchanged a look with Bruce, who smiled. “Curious, this one.” To Darcy, he said, “Come on, Lewis.”

She followed him out of the lab, bursting with questions. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and seemed to drag his feet as he walked. It was oddly unlike what she had expected of him. But not in a bad way. He looked up at the ceiling and spoke to his A.I.

“Vision—I mean, JARVIS, is Quicksilver in the tower?”

“Yes, sir. He’s in the gym sparring with Agent Romanoff.”

“Good.” He gave Darcy a sidelong glance. “So, Pietro Maximoff, eh? How did that happen?”

Darcy’s brow furrowed. That was highly personal, not to mention rude. Eh, she had never been much for social etiquette anyway. “It just happened. How did you and Miss. Potts happen?”

He grinned. “I pestered her till she loved me back.”

“That’s not a promising start to a relationship.”

His grin widened. “You don’t say.”

Darcy didn’t know if anything could compare to kissing Pietro, but making Iron Man smile was right up there. In all the pictures she had ever seen of him in media, she had never seen him smiling. He was either smirking or looking smugly at the camera or shooting finger guns, but never truly smiling. It was a good look on him.

“Why does Pietro have a codename?” she asked thinking maybe now he’d answer her questions.

“Because he’s special.”

That was unarguably true. Pietro was definitely special, but Darcy doubted Stark meant it the way she was thinking it. So she asked, “How?”

Her question was met with silence. Stark studied her carefully, eyes boring into her as if looking into her very soul. Then he shook his head and said, “You’ll see one day.”

Darcy scowled but didn’t push it.

They reached the gym in no time. Four people were in there out of which two were engaged in a heavy hitting sparring session. Darcy had never seen Pietro fight and she couldn’t believe how amazing he was. The Black Widow was obviously stronger than him—it showed every time she landed a punch and he went stumbling back—but Pietro was definitely faster than her. He fought mostly in defense, weaving under her arms and breezing around her almost like the wind, dodging punches and being a little shit in general. Darcy was proud of him.

In the corner stood Wanda and Agent Coulson, watching the fight with muted interest.

“Hi,” Darcy said excitedly, bounding over to hug Wanda. “How are you? Are you back for good?”

Wanda shook her head. “I’m here for a ‘debriefing session’… like anyone knows what that means,” she said, doing air quotes and everything. Darcy laughed and Pietro promptly got distracted. The Widow spun around and kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling.

“Damn that hurt,” he groaned, clutching his ribs in pain.

The Widow looked like she couldn’t care less. Giving a deliberate flip to her hair, she left him on the mat and came over to join the bystanders. Darcy started to run to him but Wanda grabbed her hand.

“Don’t. He needs to get up himself.”

“That was a nice show,” Tony Stark said to the Widow, who glanced back at her fallen opponent in disappointment.

“He’s weak,” she declared bluntly.

“He’s just a kid, Nat. He’s gonna get stronger.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Pietro grumbled from the mat, forcing himself up in a sitting position, blue eyes fixed firmly on Darcy.

She shot him a worried smile, every cell in her body telling her to go to his aid. But Wanda was still holding onto her hand. Eventually, he pushed himself up and limped over to join their little group, situating himself right next to Darcy.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” The surroundings blurred and melted every time she looked into his eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she could imagine them alone on the balcony, just drinking each other in, sneaking kisses every now and then, without a care in the world.

“What are you doing here?”

Before she could reply, the iPod stealer loudly cleared his throat. “This is sweet and all but we have work to do,” he announced, looking meaningfully at Stark and Widow, both of whom nodded, suddenly businesslike.

“Right. I’ll assemble the Avengers in Conference Room 3,” the billionaire stated, pulling out his tablet and making a few quick taps on it. “Is Nick coming?”

Coulson shook his head. “He’s stuck in D.C. Now that Pierce has been taken care of, his responsibilities have fallen to Nick.”

“Gotcha. Now then, Maximoff and Maximoff,” Stark said, looking to Wanda and Pietro mysteriously. “Follow me.” Darcy had just opened her mouth to protest when he interrupted, “Not you, Lewis.”

Great. No one ever told her anything important.

Everyone filed out after Stark. Coulson deigned Darcy with a rare smile as he left. Wanda waved nervously and Pietro hung back to press her against the wall and kiss the breath out of the lungs.

“Do you know what this meeting’s about?” she asked him between kisses.

He made a negating sound, dragging his lips up her jaw and pressing them to her cheek. “I’ll find you after, okay?”

Those words triggered something in her brain and Darcy blinked rapidly, experiencing a horrible déjà vu. Tears sprung to her eyes for no reason and she was so confused by them that she let them slide down her face and soak into her sweater. Her hands tightened around Pietro and she burrowed herself into him for one desperate second before letting him go. “Okay.”

He stepped back and looked into her eyes searchingly, giving her the feeling that he wanted to say something.

When he didn’t, she whispered, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He stole one last kiss and was gone.

“Hello?”

“Darcy?” The voice was muffled but she’d recognize it anywhere.

“Pietro… is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God!” Her voice cracked with surprise and relief and she slapped a hand to her mouth. “How… how are you?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m fine, too.” Tears unbidden welled up into her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him until this very moment when he was calling her for the first time after their separation in Hungary. “Are you free?” From HYDRA was implied.

“Yes,” he replied after a second’s delay. He sounded okay, if not too cheerful. “I miss you.”

Her heart leapt into her throat at his words. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, happy ones. “I miss you, too,” she whispered. “I can’t believe you remembered my number!”

“How could I…?” There was disturbance at the other end of the line and she was unable to catch the end of his sentence.

“I can’t hear you. Where are you?” Darcy asked, raising her voice.

“I’m on a plane.” His words reached her low and broken. “Something bad… to happen… going to stop it… to you?”

Darcy stood up and went out of the room, ignoring Jane and Ian’s puzzled looks. “What? Pietro, I can’t hear you.” She was getting frantic, desperate to hear his voice, to know what he wanted to tell her. Why was he calling from a plane? Where was he going and with whom?

“I’ll find you after, okay?” The line went dead.

“Hello? Hello?”

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Darcy couldn’t concentrate on work, couldn’t eat, forgot to feed Jane, and accidentally knocked a cup of coffee over the star charts. Her nerves were on end and she was growing more impatient as the minutes ticked by.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jane hissed irritably as she cleaned the mess her assistant had made.

“I don’t know,” Darcy mumbled resignedly. “I’m gonna go home. Call me if you need me.”

She couldn’t help being worried. Pietro still hadn’t returned from the meeting and the wait was nerve-wracking. How long did debriefing sessions last anyway? Come to think of it, what did they even mean? And why only the Maximoffs were in attendance? Why not any other agents in training?

She couldn’t identify what it was that was making her so anxious but she had a dreadful feeling something bad was going to happen. The mere idea that the feeling was associated with Pietro somehow was causing her much distress. Her apartment was the only place she felt even remotely comfortable, so she kicked off her shoes and curled up on her bed, trying and failing to clear her mind of these morbid thoughts.

She had no idea when she fell asleep but at around midnight, perhaps even later than that, JARVIS woke her up to tell her Mr. Maximoff was at the door. She scrambled up and out of the room as fast as her legs would allow her, and threw open the door to see him standing on the other side, tired but smiling.

“What took you so long?” she cried just before he stalked forward and gathered her into his arms in a crushing embrace.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he breathed into her hair, lips brushing against her neck as he spoke. “I’m here now.”

At first she thought he was apologizing for being late and making her worry, but he kept whispering the word over and over again like a mantra and Darcy wondered what it was that he was really apologizing for. She decided she’d have time to grill him later. Right now it seemed like he needed her, so she let him cling to her for as long as he wanted. It was something they had never done before, held each other in an intimate embrace for such long minutes… but it felt like coming home. And the moment itself felt like it meant something. Like there was more to it than just two lovers hugging.

“I told you we’d find our way to each other,” Pietro murmured, pulling away to cup her face with both his hands. “No matter what path we choose or decisions we make.”

Darcy didn’t want to ruin the moment because he was looking into her eyes and saying nice things that were possibly even deep, but she had no idea what he was talking about. “What are you saying?” she asked, staring at him in wide-eyed innocence.

It was the first time she noticed how red his eyes were, as if he had been crying… or maybe he was just exhausted and sleepy. It was the middle of the night after all and it had been a long day for him.

He ignored her question and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course!” Darcy replied immediately, reaching behind him to shut the door. “You don’t even have to ask.”

She tugged on his hand and led him straight into her bedroom. There was no awkwardness, no fear of what would or would not happen. They were just so comfortable with each other, it showed in the way they held hands, shared glances, and lay close to each other under the sheets.

“You have no idea how much the world has gone through to bring us together,” Pietro said unexpectedly as he traced patterns on the back of her hand.

Darcy giggled. “What? Since when are you so cheesy?”

He broke into a big grin. “Since I discovered the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?”

Pietro hesitated, just for a second. “That I love you.”

Darcy punched his arm, unconvinced. “That is not the truth you meant. Liar!”

He frowned. “I just told you I love you. Aren’t you going to say something about that?”

“I already knew it. For an otherwise smart person, you’re clueless when it comes to matters of the heart,” Darcy teased, pinching his chin affectionately.

“Oh,” he whispered, taken aback by her candor. “Won’t you say it back?”

“Not until you tell me what happened in the debriefing session.” She did the air quotes just like Wanda had.

Pietro sighed and didn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t tell you. Sorry, Darce.” He did sound sorry but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Darcy’s face fell. “Why not? I won’t tell anybody.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… a long story and it’s hard to believe and also, knowing it could put you in danger.” Pietro shook his head firmly. “And I’m not willing to risk that.”

“What about you?” Darcy asked, now more curious than ever. “Doesn’t it put you in danger?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “I can take care of myself.”

“So can I.”

“Maybe so.” He regarded her with mischief in his eyes, reminding her of the wolf in the fairytale Red Riding Hood. “But can you do this?”

Before she could blink an eye, he had rolled on top of her and buried his face in her neck, blowing a loud raspberry below her ear. Darcy screamed with laughter, momentarily forgetting their conversation as he repeatedly made increasingly funny fart noises on her skin. She wondered how someone could go from being serious to totally goofy in no time. Pietro amazed her to no end and as she wriggled beneath him, unable to stop laughing, Darcy knew that he was right. When he said that they’d always find their way to each other, in his own twisted way he meant they were meant for each other. And to Darcy, that made a lot of sense.

He never told her what had happened in that top secret ‘debriefing session’, neither did Wanda. But a year later when a dangerous undercover mission triggered his latent super powers to life, Darcy found out why the top secret meeting had been called in the first place. The Avengers knew more about the Maximoffs than they let on and Darcy realized what Tony Stark had meant when he had told her Pietro was special.

Silver hair suited him and so did the codename Quicksilver.

I can tell you have questions. Throw ‘em at me. :)

#darcy lewis #pietro maximoff #quicktaser #darcy lewis x pietro maximoff #fanfic #canon compliant #for dresupi #happy birthdayyyy

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canaryatlaw · 5 years

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okay it’s not very late but I’m dead tired and want to try to get to sleep somewhat earlier than normal so I can sleep a lot and still have time to be somewhat productive tomorrow, because I really need to do laundry and switch my wardrobe over to fall/winter clothes and I really need to go shopping too but that’s probably not going to happen this weekend. so, anyway, today. woke up at 6 because I had court. both my clients had been excused from showing up today so I probably didn’t have to get there so early, but I get too anxious about possibly being late so I did it anyway. sat and prepped everything, then went up to court. both of them went as expected, so I was happy about that. went back to the office afterwards and took care of some paperwork and phone calls and all that good stuff. we had our case acceptance meeting at 2:30 which went pretty well. at one point my supervisor was telling us about this one time period where they had all these crazy cases, including one where the guy would like, grab her parakeets and try to throw them at her but they’d just start flying??? which was really amusing, along with a case where the dude was literally shitting on her porch and they had video footage of it to show it was him and the lawyer was like I don’t want to watch this but it’s evidence so I have to....it was all just very amusing. by the time we finished it was like 4, so I took care of a few loose ends and prepped a bit for next week. left at 5, came home and got changed, then ran out to the grocery store so it was one less thing I’d have to do tomorrow. the trip was fine, found everything I needed. I came back and went to the couch with my laptop and watched some episodes of Schitt’s Creek which continues to be very funny. and yeah, after a few episodes of that I decided to shower and start getting ready for bed, and now I’m here, and if I can have my eyes shut on my pillow by 11 pm I would be very happy, it’s currently 10:43 so I’m gonna end this here with that goal in mind. Goodnight babes. Happy weekend.

#daily journal #October 2019

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chuckling-chemist · 3 years

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Fun Announcement!

Next week I'm going on vacation and you know what might be fun?

I think I'm going to set up streaming me replaying through (almost all) of the Nancy Drew games, one by one.

Not all in one day, but starting from Message in a Haunted Mansion.

Stream will be Sunday, likely around 8 (but I'll solidify a time closer to tomorrow or Sunday morning). Note I have like....no equipment for this atm so we're using base quality on my laptop

Gonna throw a list of all the games I will, hopefully, get to at some point if I can continue this, under the cut. The ones I remember to be more on the spooky side are bolded, in case you're not the type to enjoy that

Message in a Haunted Mansion

Treasure in a Royal Tower

The Final Scene

Secret of the Scarlet Hand

Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake

The Haunted Carousel

Danger on Deception Island

Secret of Shadow Ranch

Curse of Blackmoor Manor

Secret of the Old Clock

Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon

Danger by Design

Creature of Kapu Cave

White Wolf of Icicle Creek

Phantom of Venice

Legend of the Crystal Skull

Haunting of Castle Malloy

Warnings at Waverly Academy

Trail of the Twister

Shadow at Water's Edge

The Captive Curse

Alibi in Ashes

Tomb of the Lost Queen

The Deadly Device

Ghost of Thornton Hall

The Silent Spy

The Shattered Medallion

Labryinth of Lies

Sea of Darkness

I haven't decided if I want to do Secrets Can Kill (Remastered), and I will not be playing Stay Tuned For Danger, Ransom of the Seven Ships or Midnight in Salem. STFD is so old it is barely functional anymore, and while i'm willing to tough out MED for Sonny Joon, I'm not exactly willing to do the same with RAN and MID.

#personal #nancy drew #nd

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washoutking · 7 years

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Not-So Fashionably Late

( read on AO3 here )

Rating: Teen and Up (for swearing)

Ships: Grimmons, Sargrey, a bit of Tuckington and some backround ones if you squint really hard

Summary: The war is over. Everybody is living their peaceful lives back on Earth. And Sarge just invited everyone to his wedding!Simmons finds out Grif is taking someone else to the wedding, he is stuck on a 3-hour car ride with his suitemates, and they already missed the entire ceremony. His day couldn't get any worse, could it?

Written for @powerfulpomegranate for @redvsbluesecretsanta ~ The prompt was shippy or platonic domestic things, Sarge being secretly fond of his team, getting drunk and spilling about friendship, some repressed protags, and good old wholesome content.

“Son of a bitch,” Simmons’s voice groans in frustration through the speakers of Dexter Grif’s laptop.

“Did a twelve-year-old snipe you from across the map again?” Grif mutters in the direction of his computer screen, eating an oreo in two bites. He lays on his battered couch in front of a fan that barely cools the 90-degree room.

If there’s anything Grif misses about Blood Gulch was the dry heat. It was hot, but at least he did not have to deal with the suffocating humidity here in Hawaii. Though if he has to be honest, at least he was as far away from Sarge as he could be. Which also means he’s away from Donut, Lopez, and Simmons, some of which he is not as happy to be away from, but he would never say so out loud.

Grif and Simmons make do with biweekly skype call to make up for the distance. Grif uses the excuse that he needs someone to talk to that is not Sister and that Simmons would surely go mad if left alone with Donut unsupervised for too long. It was the system they have been using for almost a year, and Grif was quite happy with it.

“First of all, I have no knowledge about whether a player is twelve or not,” Simmons’s voice replied through the call, cracking already at the first word. “Second of all, they didn’t snipe me, they sneaked up and stabbed me in the back.”

Grif bursts out laughing, “you got shanked by a twelve-year-old!”

“I didn’t-” There was a sigh and the sound of a remote hitting a table as it is dropped. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Why? Can’t take another twelve-year-old outranking you in the kill chart?” Grif makes it a point that his smug grin is wide enough to be heard through the audio.

“I’ll have you know I still have second place in that kill chart. That’s the best spot there is.”

Grif chuckles, “You only say that because you get shanked by too many twelve-year-olds to make it to first.”

The audio cuts for a second and comes back with Donut’s distant voice asking Simmon’s something while standing just slightly too far away from the mic.

“He’s not- Donut stop-... Okay, I’ll ask him! Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Wow,” Grif raised an eyebrow at the ceiling, amused. “You sound like the real twelve-year-old right there, Simmons. No wonder they’re trying to kill you, impostor.”

“I do NOT sound like a twelve-year-old,” Simmon’s voice cracks, contradicting his words.

“Sure, Simmons, whatever you say.”

There is a small pause between them, filled only by the distant waiting music from whatever Simmons was playing and the whirring of Grif’s fan across from him.

“Hey, Grif,” Simmons speaks after a few seconds, his voice interrupted by static as the internet dies down “Do-..... -one?

“Can’t hear you, Simmons,” Grif complains at the laptop, turning himself around to check on it.

“D-.... want-....?”

Grif huffs to himself, sitting up and checking the internet connection. “I’m losing you, buddy.”

“H- Hello?” Simmons finally comes through clear as before.

“There we go,” Grif smiles, sitting back again. “What were you saying before?”

“I-I was asking you who you were bringing as your plus one,” Simmons stutters through the audio. “For Sarge’s wedding, remember? Did you get the invite?”

Grif made a noise of realization at that. “Yeah, I remember… Made a note saying he did not care if I showed up but he offered to buy my plane tickets.”

“WHAT!?” Simmon’s voice broke again for the third time in that hour. “He didn’t offer any such thing to me.”

“That’s because you can drive there,” Grif states. “I cannot. And to answer your question I am bringing a plus one.”

“Really? Who are you br-”

Simmons suddenly stops talking, and it takes Grif a few seconds to figure out the call dropped.

The country road seems to stretch for eternity through Simmons’ windshield, rolling out into the blue sky with trees lining on either side. He’s been stuck in his small car with Donut and Doc for close to four hours now, and it was not getting any better.

“I spy…” Donut begins for his 30th turn that day, looking out from the passenger’s seat window. “Something long and wet.”

“Uh… is it the creek?” Doc guesses from the back seat.

Donut turns around, smiling back at his suitemate. “How’d you guess?"

“Can you guys stop?” Simmons interrupts the two, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to concentrate on driving.”

“Is that why you shut off the music as soon as I turned on the radio?” Donut kicks one of his legs on the dashboard. “Chill out, Simmons. What do you need to concentrate on? It’s not like the road is that complicated.”

Simmons frees one of his hands from the wheel, using it to motion past the windshield to the rows upon rows of trees. “We are in the middle of nowhere! What if there’s a wild animal- or a deer that runs through!”

“I think a deer is a wild animal,” Doc points out.

Simmons waves him off, “Shut up.”

Donut sits up on his seat, eyes wide. “OoOOoh~ you’re worried about something, aren't you?”

“No, I’m not!” Simmons’ voice cracks.

“Uh… Guys…” Doc speaks up to get the attention of his suitemates.

“What is it!?” Simmons snaps.

“I think we missed our exit…”

Simmons shakes his head. “There hasn’t been an exit in ten miles. What do you mean we missed our exit?”

“That was it… ten miles ago…” Doc pointed out. His voice suddenly dropped an octave, “You fool. I wanted to see how long it would take you. Now you are truly stranded and nobody will find your body.”

“We’re going to miss the ceremony!” Simmons panics, turning the car around so fast that Doc was thrown into the door.

“We’ll make it to the reception at least,” Donut shrugged, holding onto his seat for dear life.

Simmons manages to get to the location of the wedding with the car in one piece and no casualties, but it just so happened to be about an hour late. By the time they arrive, the ceremony is officially over, and the guests had moved a ways farther into the park to enjoy the wedding reception.

The trio of not-so-fashionably-late men run through the empty chairs of the ceremony, following the sound of music and conversation.

Donut runs ahead of the group with Doc at his heels, as if it was a race to see who could get to Sarge first. “Don’t be slowing down now, Simmons!” He calls out over his shoulder, “We’ve only been at it for a minute. Don’t tell me you’re already hot and sweaty?”

“Donut, shut UP!” Simmons yells at his friend, adjusting his maroon tie as they run. “Sarge is gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill me! We missed his wedding ceremony, for fuck’s sake!”

“Well, then we better get to him quick, for the sake of fuck!”

“I do not think that’s how the expression goes…” Doc points out.

Donut does not have much time to respond. The three men stumble upon the reception area, crashing into each other and a few of the other guests. It starts a domino effect of tumbles and grunts of pain and surprise, and ends in a table toppling over with half a dozen expensive wine glasses.

Simmons shakes his head, pushing himself up with his elbows. He winces at the grass stains that already formed on his jacket, and the sting of a bruise forming on his jaw from the fall. His eyes catch a pair of brown armored boots approaching, possibly belonging to the only guest with any kind of armor on.

<<Hacia tiempo que llegaran, pendejos,>> A metallic voice speaks from the direction of the boots.

Simmons sits himself up and cranes his neck to stare into Lopez’s visor. “Nice to see you too, Lopez,” He wheezes, catching his breath.

By the time he gets to his feet, Donut is already throwing himself at the robot to greet him, earning himself only endless incomprehensible Spanish from the robot. Donut takes them as “I missed you”’s, but Simmons is not so sure if that was the true meaning of those words. It is Lopez they are dealing with, though, so Simmons decides to drop it in favor of looking for his former leader in order to apologize for their tardiness.

He spots Sarge across the reception party, sitting beside his new wife, clad in white, and another man who he could barely recognize from the distance. Clouds dance overhead, cooling down the park and Simmons’ worked up gears from all the running they had to do just to get there.

Simmons weaves around the tables hurriedly, tripping over the chair legs on his way to Sarge’s table. He bends over one of the chairs, catching his breath once he finally reaches it. With his head still down, touching the thin plastic tablecloth, he speaks. “Sir, I am so sorry we missed the ceremony,” He brings up his head for a second just to look Dr. Grey in the eyes. “Congratulations on the wedding though. I’m sure it was beautiful.” He drops his head again. “Please don’t be mad. It was all because-”

“You boys were out fighting the blues in my name!” Sarge interrupts him. Simmons lifts his head again, looking up at his former leader, wine glass in hand. “How can I be mad about that? You found out they were infiltrating civilian ranks! Just as I feared- Leave it to Simmons to lead an attack. That’s a damn good wedding present if I ever heard of one.”

Simmons facepalms, “I knew I forgot something back at the apartment…”

Gray could not help but chuckle in amusement. “Don’t mind him, he’s just had a tad too much to drink. You know how it is, with so much alcohol being passed around. Say, is that purple friend of yours around?”

Simmons furrows his eyebrows at Grey’s sudden change in conversation and her overly enthusiastic expression when mentioning Doc, but the third person on the table beats him to a speaking turn, slamming his glass on the table.

“What do you mean blues infiltrating civilian ranks?” Tucker, as equally intoxicated as Sarge, steers back the conversation. “Dude, the war is over . Anyways, your guys could never win an attack against any blues.”

“That’s what you think, you filthy blue,” Sarge replies, lifting his free arm, which Grey had hers hooked on, to point at the former blue soldier. “But I know my boys better than anyone. They may be a nuisance but they are my boys.”

Simmons blinks slowly, processing the fact that Sarge was actually saying positive about them. “Sarge…”

“Nah, man. Blue team was far superior,” Tucker tries to argue. “Caboose, the damn idiot he is, is already better than your whole group combined.”

“Did Tucker say something nice about me?” A familiar voice calls out from the reception hall.

Tucker turns to the direction of the voice. “Shut up, Caboose! I’m trying to convince Sarge that red team sucks!”

“The sharing of intimate thoughts while inebriated is quite fun to watch, isn't it?” Grey asks Simmons, who straightens himself as the argument unfolds.

“Alright, that’s enough,” A blonde man walks up from behind Tucker, taking the glass of whatever he was drinking from his grasp. He holds it far away enough that no matter how Tucker stretches, he cannot reach the glass. “We have to go pick up Junior from your mother’s house, remember?”

“But babe-”

“If we don’t leave now, you’re catching a ride back with Caboose,” Washington states as stern as he could, but a smile plays at his lips nonetheless.

Tucker sighs, “Fine.” He lifts his arm and Washington grabs hold of it to pull him to his feet.

“Another victory for the reds!” Sarge cheers, leaning back in his chair.

“Why’d you have to marry him?” Tucker grumbles at Dr. Gray, who just laughs in reply.

Simmons takes it as his cue to leave as well. It was a party after all, and parties usually involved socialization. Since he is finally here, and Sarge did not kill him for being late, Simmons decides to wander through the crowd and look for familiar faces.

He finally finds the man he was not aware that he was looking for, hiding away from the crowd and next to the buffet table with a plate piled past his head with different types of desserts. Simmons approaches him without thinking about it, only catching his attention when he finally speaks.

“I’m surprised you haven’t eaten half of the buffet table by now.”

Grif turns his head to look at Simmons, swallowing whatever he was working on. His hair is neatly pulled back for once, and the suit is a little disorienting to Simmons at first. “I’m surprised you even showed up,” Grif joked back. “Thought the fact that Sarge got married without asking you to be his right-hand man killed your from the shock.”

Simmons scoffs, “As if. I called that Lopez would be picked for right-hand man since the engagement. Remember?”

“Like you remembered to get here on time,” Grif teases, elbowing Simmons on the side.

Simmons drops his head in his hands, laughing out of nervousness. “Don’t remind me. Donut and Doc were playing I spy for three hours. Three hours, Grif. ” He sighed. “My suit is covered in grass stains, my car smells like whatever awful dish Doc was eating on the way here, and I missed the whole wedding ceremony. Today couldn’t get any worse.”

Thunder rumbles overhead. A couple of droplets hit Simmons on the head.

“You were saying?” Grif raises an eyebrow in amusement.

As soon as Grif spoke, the rain all hit at once. Guests scramble to find cover under their coats and under tables to protect themselves and their expensive garments from the rain. At this point, Simmons just allows himself to be drenched. He lifts his head once again, watching the chaos in utter silence.

Simmons turns to Grif, “Who’d you bring?”

“My sister,” the other man states, motioning over to a crowd of guests. In the midst of the chaos, Kaikaina was laughing at Doc, whose purple suit was dark with mud stains. “She wasn’t mentioned on the invite, but she wanted to come, so I said I’d bring her as a plus one.” He turns his face toward Simmons, “Why? Who else would I bring?”

“Sister…” Simmons repeats. “Of course it was Sister!” He facepalms.

“You know…” Grif shrugs. “She was talking to Tucker today about possibly trying out for a job at his workplace. Wanted to see what living in a mainland city was like.”

“So?”

“I have to tickets back to Hawaii, and she won’t be using hers,” Grif explains. “Could give you an excuse away from this awful weather.”

Simmons looks over at Grif for a second before hitting his side with his hipbone. “Next time, you could ask me to come visit like a normal human, you asshat.”

“Is that a yes?” Grifs asks expectantly.

Simmons could not help but smile. “Of course it’s a yes. Now move your fat ass to the tents or we’re gonna catch a cold.”

#powerfulpomegranate #rvb #rvbsecretsanta17 #red vs blue #rvb fanfic #grimmons #sargrey #tuckington #richard simmons #dexter grif #colonel sarge #doctor grey #franklin delano donut #frank dufresne #lavernius tucker #kaikaina grif #agent washington #qc post

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arrowsshootyouforwards · 7 years

Text

Moving In

You nervously paced your home awaiting their arrival. Today, after three years of dating and seven months of being engaged you and your husband-to-be were moving in together. It wasn’t that neither of you had wanted to, but both of you had good jobs in different cities and each waited patiently for a transfer. His came just under a month ago. Leonard McCoy was one of the country’s top Paediatric Surgeons and the hospital in San Francisco had offered him a job. A good job. Though work was not the only thing keeping you both from moving straight in with each other.

Leonard had a daughter from his previous marriage who was just a week off her tenth birthday. The move had been postponed with a trip to Georgia for you so Joanna could have her party with her friends from school. Pouring yourself a coffee you heard the truck pull up outside and took down a second mug for Leonard who was accompanying the truck with his car. You opened the door as Joanna climbed out of the back seat with her pillow and her bear. She looked up at the house, she hadn’t seen the new house yet, the last time she had visited with her dad had been Spring Break a couple of months before. “Y/N!” She called running up and hugging your waist. You bent and kissed her hair.

“Hey Jo,” you smiled, careful not to spill her dad’s coffee. “You like the new house? It’s bigger than the last one, hey,” you greeted Leonard as he climbed the stairs.

“Hey,” he smiled and kissed you, taking the coffee from your outstretched hand.

“Welcome home,” you said softly.

The movers had their lunch in the truck while Joanna explored the house. You and Leonard picked out the house a while ago. “Which room is mine?” Jo asked as you climbed the stairs with her.

“End of the hall,” you smiled, decorating her room had been your last renovation. She’d picked out the colours and you and your friends had decorated it last weekend. Her room was a pale blue with heat sensitive paint that would change colour when she touched it. Joanna wasted no time standing with her back flat to the wall and waiting for it to change around her. She excitedly ran around the room pressing her hands to the wall making images.

“I love it! I love it! I love it! Thank you!” She called wrapping her arms around your middle once more.

“You’re very welcome,” you told her.

“OK Jo come’n get your stuff from the truck and you can unpack,” Leonard told her draining his remaining coffee before it became cold. You helped Jo carry the heavier boxes to her room and started helping her put things away while Leonard unpacked his things, Jo trailing hand prints over her wall as you did.

You and Leonard were in the kitchen unpacking the last plates and mugs from his old place in Georgia when he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck and cheek. You hummed appreciatively, turning in his arms to kiss his lips. “Hey” you said softly. His lips descended on yours once more, kissing you deeper than before. His hands trailed over your sides, cupping your ass he lifted you onto the counter. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“And this is the hall, and these are the stairs and here’s the- eww! My eyes!” Jo cried throwing her forearm in front of her face. You chuckled as Jo caught the pair of you kissing while giving her grandma a facetime tour of the house. “Is it safe to look?” She asked peeking under her arm.

“Yeah, it’s safe” you assured her, chuckling once more as Leonard moved across the room to the almost empty box sitting on the counter, plucking out the last three plates and stacking them in the cupboard.

Jo said “goodbye” to her grandma and climbed on one of the bar stools. The three of you discussed dinner options when Leonard’s beeper interrupted.

“I gotta go,” he said with a sigh, he hadn’t wanted to go in for at least another day to settle in but it was an emergency. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be late,” he kissed the both of you and took his coat and keys from the hooks as he left. You looked back to Jo who looked a little deflated.

“Hey, how about we order a pizza and watch a movie, any movie you like?” Her eyes got back that little sparkle and she nodded as you unpinned the pizza place menu from the corkboard. Joanna chose her pizza toppings and sprinted upstairs to pick a movie as you called the pizza place. She changed into her onesie while upstairs and put on the movie, Tangled, leaning into your side to watch and eat her food.

Joanna fell asleep near the end of the movie and you carried her upstairs and tucked her in before returning to clean up downstairs.

Three days later saw Joanna’s first day at her new school. Leonard had asked specifically for the morning off so he could see her off and be there for the parent’s orientation. You had put her hair up in two pigtails and she was wearing the uniform: tartan pinafore, white blouse and black tights with flat sensible shoes. On her back she carried her Supergirl backpack. The three of you arrived in front of a large red brick building and parked. Joanna held her dad’s hand tightly as you walked up the stairs. The principle, a soft-spoken woman smiled as she shook all three of your hands. Joanna hid behind Leonard as much as she could as the woman spoke. Jo had never been great with strangers. It took 2 months before she stopped following her dad out of the room when they stayed with you or you visited them. Of course, then she had been five. After a tour of the school Joanna was shown to her classroom and said her goodbyes. You and Leonard joined the principle in her office to fill in forms and discuss the ‘parental code of conduct’ agreement.

Leonard’s beeper went off as you were being shown out of the school. He dropped you at work as it was on the way to the hospital and kissed you goodbye. You arrived at work and clocked in, “so how’d it go?” Your boss asked appearing from nowhere, turning pages on a clipboard.

“She went into the classroom without any resistance so I’m gonna say good,” you told him taking the clipboard from him. “No,” you told him reading where he had you for the day, “Scotty please don’t put me with the newbies, they’re hopeless.” You said.

“An’ that’s why I need my best engineer on the job,” he replied and you shot him daggers.

“Look, Evans’ out sick, when he’s back I’ll unleash them on him.”

“Deal.”

That afternoon you stood near the entrance to Jo’s school and waited for her to be ushered out to you. She joined you and clasped your hand as the crowds of pupils and parents grew around you. Smiling you stroked the back of her hand with your thumb and got her away from the mass of people. Twenty minutes later you arrived back at the house and she ran straight upstairs. You decided to give her some space, Joanna didn’t like being around too many people and you didn’t want to push her. “Dinner at six,” you called then added, “let me know if you need help with your homework,” giving her the option to reach out. She didn’t reply, just shut her door.

Leonard got home at half five as you were starting dinner. “Hey everything OK? Jo upstairs?”

“Yeah, how was your day?”

“It was good, she have a good day?”

“I think so, she went right upstairs.”

“OK, I’m gonna shower then I’ll come give you a hand,” he said kissing your cheek.

“So, Jo, how was school?” You asked over dinner.

“It was OK,” she said pushing her food around.

“Just OK?”

“I don’t know anybody,” she said.

“Well I’m sure you’ll make some friends quickly, you’re a great kid.”

The week followed in a similar fashion. You dropped Jo off at school and went to work, picked her up, went home and she would run upstairs not to be seen again until dinner where she was quieter than you had ever seen her. Leonard was frequently on call so he was gone more than either of you had hoped but you knew his job would require that of him and you didn’t mind so much knowing he was saving lives. The weekend saw just you and Joanna alone in the house. You were working through some paperwork when you heard the stairs creek under her feet in the morning. “Morning Jo,” you called finishing your notes before looking up. Seeing her you frowned, she didn’t look good.

“Is my daddy here?”

“No sorry honey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel good,” she said softly, her lower lip trembling. You walked over to her and put the back of your hand to her forehead. She was warm but not to an alarming rate. “I want my daddy,” she said.

“I know baby, let me give him a call and you can talk to him.” You dialled your phone and handed it to her as he picked up, sitting on the step beside her she allowed you to sit her in your lap, resting her head against your shoulder.

“Daddy,” she said, “I don’t feel good,” she listened as he spoke and she relayed her symptoms back to him. “He wants to talk to you,” she whispered.

“Hello?” You asked stroking her hair as she leaned against you.

“Hey (Y/N) sounds like she has ‘adjustment flu.’ Basically, her body is reacting to all the new germs from the school and area. She’ll have flu-like symptoms but nothing serious. She needs rest and fluids and I’ll try to get home early if I can.” Leonard explained.

“OK, we’ll see you soon, you wanna say bye to daddy?” You asked her, she nodded and you handed her back the phone, holding her until she hung up. Jo wrapped her arms around you, tucking herself under your chin. “How about we make a little nest on the couch and watch some movies?” Jo nodded but not nearly with the enthusiasm she normally would.

Dragging her duvet behind her Jo made herself comfortable and searched through her Netflix settings for a movie while you finished your paperwork and made drinks. Later that day Leonard arrived home. You were working, laptop perched on the arm of the couch, Jo asleep with her head in your lap.

“Hey, how is she?” He asked pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, she’s been improving but says her glands still feel swollen.” Jo stirred and moved to her father’s lap as he checked her over.

“Mmm, they’re swollen alright, you’re a little flushed, how do you feel sweetheart?”

“Lousy,” she replied pouting.

A couple of weeks later you started to notice things about Joanna. She was quieter than before, which was rather unnerving. She didn’t seem herself, normally she was full of joy, but now she rarely looked away from the floor or left her room. The real clencher was when you picked her up from school one evening. All the other kids were hugging and calling their farewells, but not Joanna. She looked around, would start to say something and then not or speak to someone and be ignored. It broke your heart, but you thought you understood. Returning home Jo shut herself in her room once more.

Softly you knocked on the door and waited to be called in, you didn’t get an answer so you peeked around the door, Jo was laying on her bed, holding her bear and looking at a photo in her hand. You moved slowly and sat on the bed beside her. The picture was her birthday just gone, she and her best friend hugging each other with matching party hats and silly faces. As you sat beside her she fell against you bursting into tears as you wrapped an arm around her.

She turned into you, and sobbed, you pulled her into your lap. “I wanna go home,” she cried against you.

“Oh, Jo,” you said softly.

“I want, my school and my friends,” she sobbed, “everyone here laughs at my voice, and- and makes fun of me,” she cried harder and it took all you had in you not to cry with her. “Please, please don’t make me go back tomorrow,” she begged, which was the final straw as a lone tear spilled over your own cheek.

“How about I go in and talk to the principle?”

“No,” she sighed, “that’ll just make it worse,” she said.

“Well I can’t let it keep happening Jo, it isn’t right.” You wiped her tears away, “let’s give it a try, if it doesn’t help we’ll figure something else out.” She nodded against you.

“Are you gonna tell my dad?”

“Jo I’ll have to,” you told her. “Why?”

“He was so happy and excited to move here, I don’t want him to think I’m unhappy,” she told you.

“Oh sweetheart, your dad would hate it if he thought you weren’t happy here,” you told her. “Let me talk to the school and we’ll see how it goes, alright?” Joanna nodded. “Your dad’s working late tonight, how about you and me get some take-out?” She smiled and nodded again, hugging you tighter.

The next day you spoke to the principle, receiving a less than impressive response that Joanna should grow up and deal with it. You went to see Leonard during his lunch. “Hey,” you said poking your head around the door of his office. “I brought lunch?”

“Come on in,” he smiled standing to greet you. “How’s your day?”

“Not bad, we need to talk about Jo.”

“What about her?” He frowned.

“She’s not happy, last night she told me she’s been bullied at school, I went in this morning and the principle was less than helpful.”

“Why didn’t she say anything?”

“She didn’t want you think she was unhappy, I hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t leave her there, I pulled her out of school, she’s outside.”

“Jo, come on in sweetie,” Leonard called, Jo ran around his desk and into his arms, “it’s OK sweetheart, you should’ve told me. Your happiness means everything to me Jo.” He told her as she started to cry again. “I guess we’re gonna have to find a new school. Y/N you grew up around here, are we in any good schools around?”

“There are a few, we’ll find something,” you assured her.

That evening when Jo was in bed Leonard sat on the couch with his laptop to start researching schools with you. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice she was so upset.” He muttered.

“Leonard, you have a demanding job, it isn’t your fault, the school didn’t protect her, it’s their fault.” You said rubbing his shoulders, “not yours.”

“I know but I still feel responsible, I can’t let her down again.”

“You won’t. We won’t.”

“I know,” he smiled. After a while and several schools later he turned to you, “you said you loved your old school, think we’re in the catchment area for it?”

“We might be, but it’ll be close. We’ll have to check in the morning, I know one of the teachers, we went there together,” you yawned.

The next day you set Joanna some school work based on a home schooling website and called your friend at what should have been morning break. He answered. “Y/N hey, how’re you, look can’t talk long, class is in 5 minutes,” he said.

“OK, um, I was just wondering if this address was in your catchment area,” you told him the address and explained your predicament.

“Yeah, I think we have kids from further out than there, you should be fine, should I let the head know to expect your visit?”

“We’ll be there after lunch. Thanks Hikaru,” you said hanging up and calling Leonard.

You, Leonard and Joanna arrived at the school after lunch, it was just like you remembered. Hikaru met you at the reception and showed you around, he would be Jo’s teacher so he’d volunteered himself to greet you. Jo held tightly to her father’s hand and tried to hide from him, but his gentle nature seemed to make her feel comfortable enough to whisper ‘hello’ back at him. On the way to the principal’s office you pointed out some of your favourite places and your old locker. After discussing how the school worked she took you on a tour.

“Well Jo, what do you think?” Leonard asked her as you sat in the peace garden area.

“It looks OK,” she said.

“Wanna give it a try?” He asked. She looked around at the buildings and the other children in their uniforms and nodded.

“I will.”

You picked her up a uniform from the school store and arranged to bring her back the next day.

The next morning Hikaru met you and Jo at the front door to take you in. He showed you her locker and classroom. You sat with him and discussed the classroom conduct. You were surprised that not many things had really changed since you had been a student. One thing that had was that the students called teachers by their first names, rather than their surname. Apparently, the school had trialled it a few years back and it seemed to help the kids feel comfortable and have more respect for their teachers. Before you left you snapped a picture of her in her uniform to send to Leonard as he had been called in for emergency surgery at five that morning.

“Have a nice day OK?” She nodded against you as you hugged her goodbye at the school doors. You watched her run back in with Hikaru and let out a deep breath. She would be OK. You hoped she would be. You knew she would be.

During work Scotty put you on paperwork since you were way too distracted to use machinery. You drove to the school for pick up and stood with the other parents, waiting nervously. When she came out of the doors you barely recognised her, she was walking with three other kids, talking and laughing together. You let out a sigh of relief waving to her, she brought over her friends, who were followed by people you assumed were their parents.

Jo hugged you and introduced you to her friends and their parents stepped forward to introduce themselves. On the spot, you found you had invites to playdates and a party the upcoming weekend. “Sounds great, we’ll be there, her dad should have the day off too if you don’t mind.”

“Sounds great, see you all then,” the host dad said.

“Looks like you had a good day,” you said getting the car.

“Yeah, we were assigned to work together in Science and turns out we like some of the same things. We played at recess, ate together and lunch and…” You listened to Jo tell you about her day smiling. You couldn’t wait to tell Leonard that his little girl would be OK.

@medicatemedrmccoy @outside-the-government

#star trek #bones x reader #Leonard McCoy #joanna mccoy #star trek au

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iishmael · 7 years

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NaNo Tag Game

I saw @merigreenleaf doing this and am considering myself tagged hehe since I really want to do this. :D If you’re doing nanowrimo and are seeing this, pls consider yourself tagged from me - I wanna know what yall are writing about!

Working title: back when i still wanted it to focus on the romantic side it was “shadows of serendipity” but ive crossed that out and am title-less atm. Maybe ‘Coming Home’. Or maybe I’ll just go with ‘Vengeance of Juniper’s Creek’ lol Genre: adventure/western plus the usual comedic relief/romantic relief stuff lol Projected Word Count: if i can get to 50k by the end of the month im gonna throw a party AT THE START DO YOU: Have an outline? Yes Scene-by-scene? Nah. XD I have a few scenes written out in my head so to say but that’s it. Know how it ends? Yes!! Actually thats one of the few scenes i have a pretty specific ideas about! Have your climax in order? The big last one is that planned out thing I was just talking about but for the rest,,, i dont really have a solution for my side plot yet oops Have your main characters yet? Yes. They’re called Lewis and Nate and I love them. They’re my baby boys. Also María and Zip, my girlzzzzz Plan to draw on your experiences? Not really? I mean I’m not a cowboy lol I’m not even American so... :’‘D This is all fresh from my Fantasy. But I’m using a few IRL ppl as models for my characters in case that counts? IS YOUR WORK GOING TO BE: Funny? A little? I hope so, at least lol Serious? Well, yeah, cowboying is some serious(TM) business Sad? Maybe, not sure yet hehe Semi-Autobiographical? umph no lol i hope i’ll never have to horseback ride through a desert or shoot people Based on another story? Yes! my villain was a real living asshole in the Wild West so I’m using that :) And my main charas are based off other people as well bc I’m a hoe :D HOW MUCH HAVE YOU PLANNED? HAVE YOU USED: A paper journal? nope! A computer? Yes! Almost all my planning is done on my laptop in word documents :D Index cards? no Bulleted lists? yes! in OneNote on my iPad for the order of my plot etc Plot Charts? No whats that omg Character Charts? yeah i did those way back but yes Character formulas? nope ODDS AND ENDS: Favourite writing resource? https://www.legendsofamerica.com there’s some helpful material on there A line you would like to use: “I love you.” bc I’m a romantic hoe and while my girls have an established relationship I’d love to explore Lewis’ and Nate’s budding romance?

A scene you would like to include: When Lewis shoots the “wrong” guy in the saloon of my villain, I want it to be the ‘Dead Man’s Hand’ thing. So Lewis shoots the guy, guys dies while he was playing poker - and his hand was black aces black eights. :D A concept you would like to explore: Solidarity and Loyalty. Nate is the first one to ever be loyal to Lewis without question when he saves his life at the beginning and I think it would be a beautiful contrast to all the corruption and selfishness my villain represents. A cliché you would like avoid: That Lewis and Nate solve María’s and Zip’s problems bc they’re the Male Heroes(TM). I want my girls to fuck up shit on their own. A character you would like to use: Hm, I’d love to use someone from Nate’s past. His past is the Weird Side Plot I haven’t worked out properly yet but maybe his dad? That would make some fun interactions with Lewis lol. I’m just imagining Lewis protecting his Hated(TM) “partner in crime we’re not friends Nate we’re partners in crime” from some asshole from Nate’s past lol

FORWARD THINKING: Do you expect to be able to complete it? I really hope so? I don’t think so tbh especially bc my goal of 50k probably won’t be the entire novel. It’ll be more like 80k probably Do you intend to complete it? Fuck yeah Would you ever try to publish it? Fuck yeah? *quivers in a corner out of fear* What do you expect to get out this month of frantic writing? Tbh I wanna see if I have the potential to actually write something original for REAL. I know I can write fanfics, even long fanfics, but I’ve never completed any of my original works (apart from short stories, poems and the like). So... yeah.

#sam writes cowboys #nanowrimo #my writing #sam's writing woes

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mycasandstarrs · 6 years

Text

SPN 8x22: “Clip Show”

THEN: Crowley shot Cas in the gut. The Winchesters meet Metatron. Metatron saves Kevin from Crowley. Kevin’s figured out the third trial: cure a demon. Abaddon, a Knight of Hell.

Lost Creek, Colorado.

“I can't believe you finally came up here with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Because of your traumatic experience.

Hello again, Tommy Collins.

His experience really stuck with him.

RIP Tommy Collins. His brother and sister will be devastated.

“You see, the Men of Letters kept files on every demonic possession for the last 300 years, I mean, we've got Borden, Lizzy, all the way to Crane, Ichabod.” Cool.

“Dean, the only thing that's gonna make me feel better is finishing this.” More like make you feel dead-er.

DEAN YOU JERK.

“I like this bunker. It's orderly.”

“Oh, give us a few months. Dean wants to get a ping-pong table.”

Dean’s gonna have his own little man-cave in a couple of years.

(Oh, it just occurred to me that this is Cas’ first time at the Bunker!)

“And the final test, do you – you know what it is?”

“I have to cure a demon.”

“Of what?”

lol

“Soup’s on. There we go. I think this is, uh... Oh, it's still good.”

“Yeah, we're – we're running a little low. I'll make a run.”

“Dean, I can go with you...Dean, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“Everything? Like, uh... Like ignoring us?”

“Yes.”

“Or like bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it 'cause you didn't trust me? You didn't trust me.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Nah, that's not gonna cut it. Not this time.”

“Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, you always do.”

Dean, I can punch you.

“Hey, uh, do we have a room 7B?” Thanks for interjecting, Sam.

And thanks for defending Cas.

“Dude, if anybody else – I mean anybody – pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass?”

“Because it’s Cas.”

Exactly!

Case 1138. “It was a class 5 infernal event – St. Louis, March 8, 1957.”

“One of the files just had a note written in the margin about room 7B and the word "weird" with three exclamation points.” “Weird!!!”

The discovery of the torture dungeon!

Ok, but who made popcorn if Cas is the only one eating it...and he can’t even taste anything??

Josie. Pre-Abaddon days.

“Hey, those chains look exactly like the ones in our dungeon.”

“In your what?”

lmao

“That wasn't a normal exorcism. They changed the words.”

“I believe ‘lustra’ is Latin for wash or cleanse.”

“Oh, yeah, 'cause that was the most freaky thing was the vocabulary.”

He’s TRYING TO HELP.

“All right. Let's roll. Not you.”

“Sam is more damaged than I am.”

“Yeah, well, you know, even banged up, Sammy comes through.”

“Dean, I just want to help.”

“We don't need your help. Just stay here and – and get better.”

I SWEAR TO GOD I CAN RIP DEAN’S HEAD OFF.

Talking with Father Simon.

“A demon is a human soul, twisted and corrupted by its time in Hell. Father Thompson believed that you could wash that taint away and restore their humanity.”

Sam’s off to cough his lungs out, but Cas couldn’t help.

“Sammy there is gonna take whatever shredded your friend and every other black-eyed bitch out there, and he's gonna get rid of them for good.”

“He is? In his condition?”

“Father, over the past couple of months, I've seen him do crap that I didn't even think was possible. I mean, sure, he's miserable and he's hurting, but you know what? There's not a doubt in my mind that he's gonna cross that finish line – not one.”

I’m sure Sam would’ve appreciated that.

Ooohhh, Cas is shopping for the Winchesters. (But mainly for Dean, let’s face it.)

I love how all of Cas’ money is crumpled up into balls.

“I think we're out.”

“You don’t understand. I need pie!”

His boyfriend’s mad at him, he’s trying to make it up to him!

“Put the virgin down, Castiel. We need to talk.”

Cas, meet Metatron.

Ha, Cas left with all his purchases.

“Kevin Tran told me about you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. According to him, you and I have a lot in common. We're both free thinkers. We're both on heaven's most wanted list. I thought we could socialize, maybe grab a bite.”

I don’t trust youuu.

“Just – just picture it. We ride to the rescue, save the day – make a great story.”

Ugh Cas, this is how Crowley got to you. :(

“I can't find Cas. You think he blew town?”

“Sounds like him.”

*angry screeching* D e a n.

Father Thompson’s last exorcism, two days before he died.

“When you crawled into Mr. Kent and ate his children, how did it feel?”

“Orgasmic!”

There’s the change.

“When you ate his children, how did it feel?”

“They were screaming...and I laughed. Why did I laugh? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, I was a monster.”

“But now you are a man again. And you have been saved.”

The son of a gun did it. He cured a demon.

“Do we still have dad's old army field surgeon's kit?” Was John a field surgeon? Or did he take it from someone??

“I think it's time we put humpty dumpty back together again.”

“Coffee, please.”

“Sure. Cool coat.”

“No, it's actually quite warm.”

“Cute and funny – okay.”

Same.

“I've got the plan. You've got the muscle. We can do this. Heaven needs your help, Castiel.” Again, this is how Crowley got to Cas.

“I am the one that caused these problems. I should be the one to fix them.” Samandriel’s right. Cas’ heart is in the right place, but he cares too much.

A nephilim before Jack: the waitress.

That’s kinda cool actually, how Sam and Dean sewed Abaddon back together.

“We figured kitty didn't need her claws.”

“Then I'll stump you to death. It'll be swell.”

Alright, Black Knight.

“Father Max Thompson, born October 12, 1910. Died August 5, 1958. Who do you think ripped him apart? Word got back to home office that Maxie was messing with things, so we made an example.It wasn't my most artful kill, but it was effective. And bonus – before he died, he told me all about Josie Sands. I found her, and I rode her into the Men of Letters.” Ah, that’s how Abaddon found her.

“666″ aka Crowley.

Abaddon controlling the disembodied hand is pretty cool.

“What the hell – I'm sexting you an address. Check it out. Then we'll talk. Cheerio.” omg, shut up.

She pulled a bullet out with a disembodied hand. Metal af.

Plan A (for Abaddon) is gone.

Prosperity, Indiana.

The case from “Shut Up, Dr. Phil”

RIP Jenny Klein. Killed by Crowley.

So wait, she either never moved or moved back even after the brothers told her to get out and away.

What I don’t get, is that if Crowley is going off the books...how did he know to go after Jenny? She was way after the books.

“I'm gonna gut one person every 12 hours until you bring me the Demon Tablet and stop this whole trials nonsense.”

Crowley was a good villain. I love him, but I also want to cut his tongue out so I don’t have to hear him deliver evil villain-y monologues.

“Indianapolis, the Ivy Motel, room 116. You have 57 minutes.”

MY GIRL SARAH BLAKE!!!

(Why couldn’t Sam have gone back to her during his year off?)

“I know what you are. I could see your halos.” What do they look like?

“You want an abomination? I'll show you an abomination.” Nephilim’s last words.

RIP nephilim. Killed by Cas.

“No. No, he's not.”

I wish I could say he’s right.

Sarah still works with her father, she got married, and she has a daughter. A young, cool mom about to be taken too soon.

“What about you?”

“Me? Pretty much the same, I guess.”

“No, you're not. You're not the same. Look, it's been years, and I can't even imagine the things you've been through. But I don't know. You just seem...more focused, confident, like... ...like you know what you want. You grew up, Sam.”

Sam and Sarah are still cute together.

“I do miss the old haircut, though.” I kinda do too. (I also resent that these were Sarah’s last words.)

Hell, she had a gun!

“Son of a witch, actually.”

I can’t bear to watch the brothers frantically look for the hexbag or even hear Crowley monologue.

Oh I really want Crowley dead right now, even tho I’ll be sad when he actually goes.

“They're your life's work, and I'm going to rip it apart piece by piece because I can, because you can't stop me, and because when they're all gone, what will you have left?”

RIP Sarah Blake. Killed by Crowley. You deserved better.

Nothing crushed me more with dread than when Dean threw the phone at the wall to reveal the hexbag had been in there the whole time. I wanted to throw my laptop on first viewing.

“Maybe this isn't one we can win. Maybe we should just take the deal.” Sam’s halfway right.

“We'll figure this out. We will. Man, we'll get it done. We'll kick it in the ass like we always do.” Dean’s 100% right.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 8x22 #clip show

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