#We fucking pay her bills and for her food; me; my mother; and step-dad work our fucking asses off to support a bitch that won't support us-

[bxnyi]

[tennessoui]

hi all of your aus are amazing! pls what happens with divorced!obiwan and the twins?

hey!! sorry this took so long i had to think of an appropriate cliffhanger

this is a continuation of this ficlet and this ficlet, where divorced!obi-wan accidentally acquires a partner and a set of twins.

(2k WHOOPS)

The twins are not, and probably have never been described by anyone except their father, angels. They take to Obi-Wan as well as Obi-Wan takes to them, which is to say that all three of them watch each other suspiciously until one day Luke launches himself off the top of the fridge--how the fuck did he manage to get up there--and Obi-Wan drops his morning toast in a frantic bid to catch him.

After that, Leia and Luke apparently decide he is Another Anakin Who Is Just Around A Lot Less But Is Better At Reading Bedtime Stories and deign to treat him as such.

Obi-Wan decides that he’s going to have a heart attack by the age of fifty. Do all children see a childproof house as a challenge?

It somehow takes both a longer and shorter time to win over Anakin’s favor, mostly because Obi-Wan isn’t sure what the man’s thinking at any given moment. He seems to blow hot and cold depending on how he woke up or how the work day goes. Some days, Obi-Wan comes home from campus and Anakin and the twins have waited to eat until he’s there. Sometimes they’ve eaten and there’s a meal under foil on the stove just for Obi-Wan.

(“I don’t know how you do it,” Obi-Wan tells him one night after the children are put to bed. “I mean, work from home with your job, mind the children, and cook?”

“They made me head of the R&D department a few months ago,” Anakin admits, taking a sip of his second glass of wine. “So I’m doing a lot more checking through other people’s work instead of making my own. It just means I can do that and make something edible--no, really, you just can’t cook, Obi-Wan, I’m not the best either.”

“Do you miss getting to make something other than food?” Obi-Wan asks eventually, giving himself enough time to recover from the sound of the other’s giggles.

Anakin shrugs languidly. “It’s better salary, and I’m the youngest ever in the company to have the position. Means I’ll pay off my student loans quicker, same with my mom’s hospital bills. Doesn’t matter what I want.”

Obi-Wan’s chest hurts and he wants to lean across the gap between their chairs and place his hand on Anakin’s arm, but they don’t know each other like that. It’s only been a month and a half since they moved in. Still. “It always matters what you want,” he insists. “And I think you’re amazing.”

Anakin blushes bright scarlet and takes a huge gulp of wine, and Obi-Wan wonders if this is a throwing-yourself-off-the-fridge break through.)

(It’s not because the next day, Anakin doesn’t say a single word to him, which bothers him more than he’d like to admit.)

(“Am I in the wrong for wanting to get along with my housemate?” Obi-Wan asks Quinlan despairingly during their office hours that he should be using to grade papers. Instead all he can think about is Anakin Skywalker and the goddamn cold shoulder he’s been getting from the man for the past three days.

“Yeah,” Quin says absentmindedly, marking something with a red pen before looking up at Obi-Wan’s outraged intake of breath. “I mean, no. I mean, sorry, Obi, what are we even talking about now? Is it still your hot new roommate with the two kids? Because that’s what we were talking about an hour and a half ago.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “I’m just not sure I appreciate--”

“And you said he’s not been hanging around in the living room when you get home? But he’s still leaving you meals in the kitchen? And you’re upset about the free food?”

Obi-Wan is upset at the lack of Anakin’s presence, but he thinks that’s probably not the right thing to say here.

“Maybe he’s just tired?” Quinlan puts down his pen and rests his chin on one of his hands as he looks at Obi-Wan. “From the kids and the job and putting up with your moody ass. C’mon, Obi, what’s really getting you worked up?”

Obi-Wan purses his lips and stares at the desk in front of him, but he had come to Quinlan for help. He should at least be honest about what’s eating at him, even though he knows how silly it will sound when given a voice. “...Satine always waited up for me,” he mutters. “Until she didn’t.”

Quinlan’s quiet for a worryingly large amount of seconds, before he reaches out to pat Obi-Wan gently on the arm. “Oh, Obi,” he says pityingly. “Repeat after me. You cannot make your new roommate your rebound from your thirty year marriage.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. That’s not the problem at all. “That’s not the problem at all,” he says, not defensively in the slightest. “I think I’m just worried about the children not having enough structure in their lives.”

“Right,” Quinlan says, not quite managing to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Then you should talk to him. For the sake of the children.”

Obi-Wan will absolutely not be doing that, but it’s a nice thought.)

The real turning point in Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship happens five months after the Skywalkers move in.

Anakin and Obi-Wan are in the living room. Anakin is trying to braid Leia’s hair while Obi-Wan tries to pretend he isn’t watching. From the kitchen, there’s a very, very loud crash and the sound of something shattering.

Both adults leap up from their seats immediately and run to the other room.

Luke is standing in the epi-center of disaster, little face scrunched up like he doesn’t know whether or not to cry. At the sight of his dad and Obi-Wan, he starts to wail, moving forward and reaching for Anakin.

Obi-Wan, who is wearing shoes inside the house (a point of contention between himself and Anakin), grabs Luke roughly and picks him up by the armpits before he can cut his feet on the glass. He hands him over to Anakin to soothe, stepping further into the kitchen to find the dustpan he keeps in one of the pantries.

It’s very obvious what broke, though Obi-Wan can’t for the life of him understand how Luke got ahold of Satine’s heavy cake stand. He can definitely understand how Luke dropped it, as the thing was ridiculously heavy.

It had been one of the only things left in the house that had been Satine’s. She’d left it, and Obi-Wan had been too bitter or petty to point it out to her. Yes, it had been her mother’s. No, keeping it had not made him feel any better. But it’s not like Satine ever baked anything anyway.

Good for Luke, actually, for doing what Obi-Wan never could bring himself to do.

He grabs the broom and dustpan and marches back to the pieces of shattered glass. Anakin has placed Luke on the counter, ostensibly to check to make sure his feet are fine if the boy would ever let go of his father’s neck. Leia is peering around at the mess on the floor.

When Obi-Wan comes back and starts sweeping everything away, she darts forward to pick up a rather sizeable chunk.

“Don’t touch that,” Obi-Wan says sharply, much harsher than he intended. Leia drops it instantly and scurries back to her father, eyes wide and sort of watery. Oh, fuck.

“Hey,” Anakin snaps immediately. “She’s just trying to help and Luke didn’t mean to break--whatever that is.”

Obi-Wan holds up his hand to cut Anakin off. “I’m not mad,” he promises all three of the Skywalkers. And he’s not even lying. He’s really not mad, hasn’t even thought to be mad at this last piece of proof of his relationship with Satine shattering on his kitchen floor. “I just don’t want either of you to cut yourself. Glass like this can be very dangerous and none of you are wearing shoes.”

“Promise?” Luke asks, untucking his red face from Anakin’s neck so he can peer up at Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry I was a bit rough,” Obi-Wan apologizes, coming over and bending down a bit so he’s on the same level as Luke. “I was just worried about you. Promise.”

Luke sniffles but lets go of Anakin to throw himself at Obi-Wan, apologizing all the way.

“Hush,” Obi-Wan says as Leia scrambles up his leg, vying for his attention. With his hands full of children that aren’t his, he raises his head to look at Anakin who’s watching them with a very strange expression on his face. He tilts his head toward the broom and then down to the kids in his arms. “Come along,” he tells them both. “Leia, I’ll finish your braids if you’d like.”

“Braid my hair too!” Luke demands with a pull on Obi-Wan’s shirt.

Luke’s hair is floppy but awfully short. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” Obi-Wan says generously, leaving the kitchen.

“I suppose I’ll just clean this up then?” Anakin calls sarcastically behind them.

“Thank you, darling,” Obi-Wan responds.

There’s the sound of something else breaking, but it’s not Obi-Wan’s problem at the moment.

(A year later, Anakin mentions something over morning coffee about looking for a new apartment, now that he’s got everything straightened out. “We’ll get out of your hair,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ll look today since it’s my day off.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to examine why that idea makes something curl tightly in his stomach, making him feel vaguely nauseous, but it does. On his way out of the house, he unplugs the router, and then after a second of thought, takes it with him just in case.)

(Quinlan laughs his head off when Obi-Wan sheepishly puts the router down on the desk in front of him. “It’s a bad market right now,” Obi-Wan says defensively. “I’m just looking out for him.”

“Obi, I mean this in the best way possible, but there are at least four professors in the psych department that would probably love to do a case study on you.”)

(Two years after the Skywalkers move in, Obi-Wan is running late for a meeting with the head of his department. The man is stepping down, finally retiring, and Obi-Wan thinks that perhaps he’ll be tapped as the new head. It would mean dropping some of his classes, but it would be worth it.

“I made you a breakfast wrap,” Anakin greets him at the door, holding out a paper bag. “It’s got that salsa you like in it.”

The salsa Obi-Wan likes is the mild version of what Anakin and the kids eat, but Anakin treats it as if it’s from another planet entirely.

“Good luck!” he says with a sweet smile, also passing Obi-Wan a travel mug of what’s hopefully fully caffeinated tea. Obviously Obi-Wan needs it. He got perhaps two full hours of sleep last night, tossing and turning and thinking about this meeting and now he’s running late and his tie is crooked and none of his favorite sweater vests were clean.

“Thank you, dear one,” Obi-Wan mumbles, mind somewhere else. If traffic isn’t too bad, he could still be on time.

“Text me how it goes!” Anakin chirps, following Obi-Wan out the door to stand on the front porch with his arms crossed in an attempt to fight off the early winter chill.

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan replies, turning around to brush an absent-minded kiss to Anakin’s lips before hurrying to his car. It’s a twenty minute commute. If he gets his preferred parking spot and runs to the department building, he won’t be late at all.

Is that too much to hope for?

He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, looking back in the rearview mirror to see Anakin standing frozen on the porch. That’s strange, usually the other man can’t stand being out in the cold.

Obi-Wan gets to the first stop-sign out of the neighborhood before he realizes what he’s done. It’s lucky that he’s already slowing down, because he slams on the brakes. Did he--

Did he kiss Anakin? Did he really kiss Anakin as if he does it all the time? As if they were in a relationship?

Oh shit.

Frantically, he pulls out his cellphone from his bag and checks to see if he has any new messages. He doesn’t.

Oh. Shit.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

John B x reader

Summary: You end up pregnant and because John B’s life was already hard, you didn’t want to make it any worse so you keep it from him. However, after a tense night at the boneyard, everything comes slipping out. 

A/N: This is my first obx fic, I hope you guys like it!! I’ll post the rest of the obx fics/requests I have tomorrow (Thursday). 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx 

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Your eyes stare at the two pink lines. Positive. How could you and John B let this happen? You’d been careful. You used protection and you were on birth control, something your mother had you put on after she found out you were dating John B, a pogue. Your mother warned you about pregnancy and strongly urged you to use protection. Your family’s reputation would not be able to handle a pregnancy caused by a pogue. The reputation was already beginning to crack after they found out about you and him, this would completely ruin it.

Your mind then went to John B and his life. He was living alone at 18. His dad disappeared in a boating accident years ago and he was barely scrapping by. His life was already hard and to throw a baby into the mix? It would be even worse for him. You couldn’t do that to him. Especially, since your family would disown you and kick you out, leaving you to live with John B. However, this was John B’s baby and he deserved to know. He would want to know you were carrying his child. You knew he was going to be a good father, no doubt about it.   

Gathering yourself from you white tiled bathroom floor, you stood in the mirror and wiped your eyes, washing the mascara from your face and headed to the Chateau.

~

When you arrived, you let out a sigh of relief to only see John B’s van. Kie’s car or JJ’s bike no where in sight. You stepped out of your car and headed inside.

“John B?” You called out, but there was no answer. You stepped through the house, checking in the rooms, but no John B. You checked the time; he’d be home from working at the dock by now. So, where was he?

You stepped off the screen porch and looked around the yard when you heard a boat motor. As you headed down to the dock, there was John B, pulling up in HMS Pogue. He must have gone for an evening drive.

“Hey.” You gave a small smile and a wave, stepping to the end of the dock as he pulled the boat closer to the edge.

He threw you the rope to tie off the boat, “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You bent down and tied off the boat, “I needed to talk with you about something.” After tying off the boat, you stood and wiped your hands on your jeans.

As he stepped off the boat and onto the dock, you could see the weight of the world on his shoulders, “Can it wait? I’ve had a shitty day.” He sighs and sits down on the bench, running his hands through his hair.

You frowned and nodded, “What’s wrong? Do you want to want to talk about it?” You take a seat next to him and put a loving hand on his thigh.

He holds his head in his hands, “They’ve cut back my hours on the dock, which means I won’t be able make enough to pay bills, so I have to find another job.”

And that is when you knew, you couldn’t tell him about the baby.

~

It had been a few weeks, John B had yet to find a second job and you had yet to tell him about the baby. It was Kie who found out about the pregnancy first. You didn’t mean for it to happen but she’d come over to drop something off and found you sobbing in the bathroom floor. She was your best friend and you knew there was no lying to her.

“I’m pregnant, Kie.” You sobbed into your hands.

She immediately pulled you into her arms as you two sat on the bathroom floor. She let you sob for as long as you needed, “Does John B know?”

You shook your head and quickly pulled away to look at her, “He can’t know Kie. You can’t tell him. Please.”

She sadly nods, “Okay, I won’t.” It wasn’t her secret to tell.

~

You didn’t want to go to the Boneyard for a party, but John B begged you to come. He’d finally found another job and wanted to celebrate. As you and the pogues were situated around a fire, you sat next to Kie, who was telling you about her horrible date, when John B came stumbling over.

“Hey y/n.” He slurs, two cups in his hands, “Here drink up.”

You glanced at Kie and then back up at John B, “I’m okay John B. I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “You don’t ever feel like drinking. You don’t feel like doing anything anymore! All you do is sit around on your little kook ass crying about the dumbest shit!”

Your eyes sting with tears. It had been a rough couple of weeks. Your hormones were horrible and all over the place and you had terrible morning sickness lasting through out the day.

“John B.” Kie snapped, “Don’t be an ass!”

He looks at Kie then back at you, noticing the tears, “There she goes now with the damn water works.” He shakes his head and finishes off his drink with a gulp, tossing the cup in the trash.

You stand, “John B I think it’s time for you to stop. You’ve had enough..” You go to grab the other drink in his hand but he smacks your hand away.

“Don’t touch my fucking drink.”

You put your hands up defensively, Kie standing at your side as JJ and Pope make their way over seeing all the commotion.

“You sit all high and mighty in that big ass house of yours while the rest of us pogues bust our asses to put food on the table!” He points a finger at you.

‘he’s just drunk. He’s just drunk and doesn’t mean those things.’ You repeat in your head, but your hormones are already raging and another tear slips down your face. This is what sends John B into a fit.

“And there you are with those damn tears again! What do you have to cry about?! You’ve never worked a day in your life and you probably never will!”

“I’m pregnant John B. That’s why I cry all the time! That’s why I don’t drink anymore or I’m always sick!” Tears are steadily falling and Kie puts an hand on your back.

John B is taken back by this information and stumbles back a little, “P-pregnant?” He shakes his head, the alcohol making his head spin. “There isn’t no fucking way you’re pregnant.” His eyes snap to you, “We used protection. You were on the pill. That isn’t my baby.” He points to your stomach. The next thing that happens is something none of the pogues saw coming. He tosses the drink in your face, the beer splashing on your face and down the front of your clothes.

Everything else happened so fast. Suddenly, JJ was protectively in front of you, grabbing at John B and yelling at him. Kie is cussing at John B and trying to get napkins to wipe up your face.

JJ and Pope drag John B off toward the van, still cussing and yelling at him for what he did.

“Are you okay?” Kie asks, wiping the beer off your face.

You shake your head and let out a sob.

“Oh sweetie..” She wraps her arms around you in a hug, “He was just drunk, you know that he didn’t mean any of it.”

~

Kie drove you home that night and made sure you were okay before leaving. JJ and Pope took John B back to the Chateau where John B finally passed out on the couch. They didn’t leave either, they wanted to be the first to tell John B how much he fucked up after he woke up the next morning.

~

You slept in the next morning, never leaving the bed. Kie came over and hung out but never once mentioned John B. Not like you wanted to hear about him anyways. Maybe your mother was right, dating a pogue was wrong.

~

Back at the Chateau, he knew he’d fucked up. The next morning after the outburst, JJ and Pope were quick to tell him everything that happened, how he’d drank too much, snapped on you, the pregnancy announcement and the throwing of the drink.

“Oh I fucked up.” John B groans, running his hands through his hair, “I need to go see her.” He starts to walk out but Pope grabs his arm, “Kie called from her house. She doesn’t want to see you.”

He shook Pope’s arm off, “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

When he arrived at your house, Kie’s car was still in the driveway. Kie was never going to let you see him. He sighs and knocks on the door. To no surprise, Kie opens the door.

“She doesn’t want to see you John B.”

“I know Kie, I fucked up but please, I have to apologize.” He begs.

She shakes her head and goes to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot, “Kie, Please!”

You slowly make your way down the stairs, wrapped in a blanket, “Kie?”

Kie turns around, “He’s leaving, it’s okay.”

John B looks passed Kie and looks at your appearance. He can see you’ve been crying all night. Your eyes are swollen and red. And you’re wrapped in your favorite fluffy blanket, one only used when things were bad, “Y/n please… I’m sorry.” His eyes are pleading as he begs.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you as you walk behind Kie, “It’s okay, Kie…” You give a small smile at her and she nods before heading back to your room. Pushing John B out of the house you close the door behind you and sit on one of the white rocking chairs. “Well?”

He quickly takes a seat next to you, “I’m sorry about last night. I was a complete asshole.”

You laugh halfheartedly, “Asshole? That was more than being an asshole John B. You snapped on me and said mean things and you threw a drink in my face.”

His face falls, “I know. And I don’t know what got into me. I got scared when you said you were pregnant. I was already stressed and had finally found a second job then you say you’re pregnant? I can barely take care of myself, let alone another human being.”

“You don’t think I’m stressed out? I can’t take care of another human being either! You’re not the only one in this John B.”

He sighs, nodding, “I know and I should have never reacted the way I did.” He stands from the chair and steps in front of you, bending his knees so he’s eye level with you. He puts a loving hand on your knee, “I will take care of you and our baby, no matter what. Okay?”

You sniff, another round of tears filling your eyes, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His heart breaks when he sees the look in your eye. They’re filled with regret and sadness. “Hey.. I know that.” He rubs his thumb along your cheek, “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. This is on both of us, not just you. It was an accident and that’s okay. We’re going to go through this together. I’m going to be there every step of the way, alright?”

You sniffle and nod, before standing up and walking right into his open arms. He kisses the top of your head, “We’re going to be parents.” He whispers and gives you a small squeeze. Suddenly the thought of having a baby pogue, half you, half him running around made his heart swell. It was earlier than he would have hoped. He wanted to have a steady job. He wanted to marry you first and then start a family but looks like he’d have to do things another way and that was okay.

~

Few weeks went by. You were now 3 months pregnant, no baby bump yet. You’d asked Kie to accompany you to one of the appointments because John B said he had to work and couldn’t make it. You two had made a day of it, stopping for lunch and did some shopping around town. Now, you two were on your way home. You decided you’d wait at the Chateau for John B until he got off work.

“Can you take me by John B’s?” You ask, looking over at Kie.

“yeah sure.” She nods, turning off a side street and heading toward the Chateau.

~

When you arrive, his van is parked by the house along with JJ’s bike. “Thought he was at work?” She asks, turning off the car.

“Yeah I did too..” you mutter before getting out of the car. The two of you head up on the front porch; the door is open and it sounds like JJ and John B are arguing.

“That’s not the right part, JJ! It’s this one.”

“Dude, I’m not a rocket scientist.”

“This has to be perfect.”

You look at Kie, who shrugs, so the two of you walk into the house and to the office where John B’s dad kept all his treasures and research. However, the room isn’t filled with his dad’s things anymore. It was empty. The walls had been painted a light grey and there were baby animals hung around the room. In the middle of the room sat John B and JJ, half of a crib up, the rest of the parts were strewed around them.

Your eyes swelled with tears, “John B..”

His head snapped up to you, oh shit. He’d lied to you about work and now was caught right in the middle of it.

“I’m just gonna.. go outside.” JJ quickly stands and follows Kie out, leaving you and John B in the room.

He slowly stands, “I wanted it to be a surprise… this is the nursery.. for our baby.”

Your let out a small sob, admiring the room, “It’s amazing!”  

His face lights up, “Really? You like it?”

“Like it? I love it John B!” You smile, turning around to face him, frowning, “But all your dad’s stuff.”

He nods, “In the shed. I figured he wouldn’t mind his grandchild having this room..”

You look at the décor and then the crib, “How could you afford all this?”

“I had some savings set aside for something else. But I knew this was more important.” He steps over to you, “Do you like the color? I can change it if you don’t like it. It’s just the guy at the paint shop said grey was a neutral color since I didn’t know the gender.”

You quickly shook your head and smiled, ���No, it’s perfect. All of it.. is perfect.” Your hand digs into your back pocket and pull out the ultrasound photo.

“New ultrasound photo?” He asks as you hand it to him.

You point to the little bean in the photo, “Size of a plum now.” You giggle a little.

He chuckles, looking over the photo, “Size of a plum..”

You nod, “Doctor said baby was healthy and growing just fine. And the mother was doing great too.” You laugh a little.  

He smiles, “Can I keep this one? I want to put it with my others” He’d kept the photos from the first ultrasound, hung on the fridge and in the van. He was proud and would show of the photo anytime someone entered in the Chateau or even the van. “We know John B, we saw the photo in the van.” The pogues would mutter.

“Sure. I have another one in the car. That’s your copy.”

His hand slips around your waist and pulls you into his side, his free hand going to your tummy, “My little family…”

OBX Tag list: @emmalvei-blog​ , @tregua-oca​ , @weirdbiwitch​ , @losers-club6​

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (6)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Smut (because of course there would be)

Previous Chapter // Masterlist

The arm around your waist was heavy, tattooed, and most definitely not Charlie’s. 

“Pierre,” you hissed. “Get up.” He stirred and tugged you closer. You pushed back against his chest, sounds of struggle falling from your lips as he curled his arms around you. “Let go of me.”

“YN, I’m severely hungover,” he grunted. “Can we fight later?”

“No.”

It’d been two weeks since you ended up in Pierre’s bed after a failed attempt to tell him off and since then, you’d slept with him at least three more times. You fell into a strict routine, one that didn’t include sleepovers. Surprisingly, though, you didn’t put up a fight when he started to nod off on the pillow the night before.

You shoved him one last time, this time successfully, and pulled yourself from bed. The first thing you did was pull the shades back to allow light into the room. He exclaimed at the invasion and pulled a pillow over his head.

“I’ll make you coffee, but then you gotta leave because I have things to do.”

Pierre watched you leave and sighed as soon as you were out of sight. Before getting back to your apartment the night before, he was yearning for you. Each time you were near him, he felt his hands twitch. Your midriff was exposed, jeans sitting low on your hips, and each time you passed, he wanted to sink his fingers into your flesh, or better yet, his teeth. But he couldn’t do that, not with all the eyes around you, not when Josh was clearly confused by the lack of fighting going on. 

It felt like he could breathe when you texted him to come back to your place, and when he finally slipped through your front door and his lips met yours, he was satisfied.

“You know,” he spoke as he entered the kitchen where you were making coffee. His voice was still rough from sleep. “We’ve never fucked in the morning.”

“And I’m okay with that.”

He laughed out loud, shuffling to grab a mug from the cabinets above him. You reached out and placed it back inside, then handed him a to-go cup. He rolled his eyes. 

“You’re the worst host.”

“That’s not what you were saying when I was blowing you last night.”

There was a knock at the door that prompted both your heads to snap up in confusion.

“That better not be one of the boys,” you grumbled. “I don’t think I could explain your shirtless presence in my kitchen.”

“Sure, you could,” he murmured, dropping his hands to either side of the counter beside you. He leaned in close, whispering, “You could just tell them what you tell me every time I’m inside you; I fuck you so good. You just can’t get enough.”

If there was one thing you’d learned about Pierre throughout these past few weeks, it was that he knew exactly how to throw your own attitude right back at you. 

“Gross, Pierre,” you said, slipping beneath his arms.

“You were the one that started talking about giving me head before either of us has even had coffee!”

You only allowed yourself to laugh once you were out of the kitchen and away from his ego. 

The person started to knock again and you stepped up to the door to pull it open, revealing your overly excited parents.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, panic in your eyes as they pushed past you to enter the apartment. “What do you mean?” your father asked as he helped your mother shed her jacket and hang it on the hook beside the door. “It’s your birthday! You didn’t think we’d forget to celebrate with you, right?”

“A warning would’ve been nice,” you muttered, thoughts fleeting to the shirtless man in the next room. You stood in their way, blocking the path to the kitchen in hopes that they’d just head straight to the living room and you could discreetly get rid of Pierre. Your mother had other plans, grabbing a cooler bag from your father’s hand before marching to put the food she’d brought away in the fridge.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, hands fluttering up to her eyes as she shielded herself from Pierre’s naked chest. You were only a step behind her, your father two behind you, and when she turned to look at you, you could see the blush on her cheeks. “I didn’t know you had company.” “Pierre’s leaving.”

“Pierre? No way! He’s gotta join us for your birthday brunch!” your father exclaimed. Pierre’s eyes flickered to you and then went back to your father. “We still have to thank you for dealing with Sadie when she came to visit, and also for dealing with this one every day.”

“You have your work cut out for you with her,” your mother grumbled from where she stood in the kitchen, already reorganizing all your draws and cabinets.

“Just send him a fruit basket or something.”

“YN,” your mother chastised, plates set on the counter for just a moment so she could glare at you. “If your father wants to treat him to brunch, then we will treat him to brunch.”

“I love brunch,” Pierre spoke, voice just above a whisper. You glared at him and that stupid little smirk toying at the corner of his lip, but then your father clapped in excitement. “Besides, it’s your birthday,” he emphasized, eyes wide. “I couldn’t miss that.”

“Great! Then, it’s settled,” he spoke. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom, and maybe your little boyfriend will put on a t-shirt.”

You spoke in unison.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I’m not her boyfriend.”

But your dad was already down the hall, not that he would’ve listened to either of you anyway.

Pierre narrowed his eyes at you, you stuck your tongue out at him, and then he tried to catch it between his fingers, but you shoved him away to the hallway.

“Put on a damn shirt.”

As soon as he disappeared, your mother was cooing, “That’s Pierre?”

“Why do you say his name like that? Sadie says his name like that too.”

“Well, I mean, look at him.”

“I’d prefer not to,” you grumbled. She began chastising you about how miserable you were, and how there was a handsome man right in front of you, right in your kitchen as a matter of fact, and you better take advantage of it! You’re another year older! But, you let the words fall on deaf ears before leaving to find Pierre in your bedroom.

He was still shirtless, shuffling about the room for his belongings. He glanced up when you entered, and smiled as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” you said. “I don’t know when yours is either.”

“Mine’s June 24th.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeated. He rolled his eyes at you and pulled the shirt over his head. “This isn’t how this is supposed to work. We fuck and you leave, or I leave. That’s it. You don’t need to spend the day with me and my parents. Are you out of your mind?”

“I think it'll be fun,” he said. “Maybe not for you, but definitely for me, and that’s my favorite kind of fun.”

---

From: Sadie

WTF? Why is Pierre at brunch with you guys? What’s happening? Call me ASAP. I’m freaking out!!!!!

You and Sadie were freaking out for entirely different reasons. She was freaking out because she thought this meant something. You were freaking out because you were stuck with Pierre for longer than you ever wanted to be.

“You’re one of Josh’s friends?”

“Teammates,” you corrected. Pierre took a glance over at you with a soft smile. “They play for the Blue Jackets together.”

“Oh! Oh, wow,” your mother remarked. She gave you not-so subtle wide eyes that screamed, again, how perfect she thought he was. “That’s an excellent job!”

“I’m very lucky to get to do what I love for a living.”

“And you two met because of Josh?”

“Yes,” you answered tersely, not wanting to entertain this conversation for the sole purpose of keeping your mother’s nose out of your personal, or not-so personal, life. But Pierre gave in to her, as you expected him to.

“Yeah, he introduced us during my rookie season,” he answered after swallowing a forkful of eggs. “I’ll admit that I made a really bad first impression,” he began, meeting your eyes over the mimosa you were bringing to your lips. “But she never really gave me the chance to fix it, so we just went on hating each other for a really long time.”

“Well, look at you two now,” your mother raved, waving her hands between the two of you. “All is well.”

“What fixed it?” your dad asked. “I mean, this one can be as stubborn as a mule.”

“Dad.”

“Sweetheart, I love you, but sometimes you just make your mind up and that’s that. You don’t budge. I want to know how he got you to change your mind! Teach me your ways, Pierre.”

“Uh, well,” he began, choking a bit on the drink in his mouth. He knew he couldn’t give them the real reasons. He couldn’t explain that the only way you could stand each other was if he was inside of you, so he met your eyes with a look of uncertainty. 

“It was after he helped Sadie,” you answered for him. “I figured that if he’d ruin his own night to make sure she didn’t die of alcohol poisoning then maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought he was.”

Pierre looked up at you again, eyes softer than before, but you avoided his gaze and instead focused on the food in front of you. 

Conversation picked up again, but it didn’t involve him. Your parents asked about work, you asked about home, and the conversation ended up circling back to Sadie once more. Pierre remained silent, taking in the relationship you had with your parents and how much you cared for your sister. He felt like he saw another side to you during brunch, a side that every other guy on the team had experienced and he’d yet to see. 

When the bill came, Pierre immediately reached for it, but your dad was faster and you yourself had placed your hand on his to push it away.

“They made you come,” you reminded him. “You don’t have to pay.”

“I wanted to come,” he corrected you. He leaned forward to speak directly to your father. “Mr. YLN, at least let me pick up the tip.”

Your dad sized him up for a moment, then sighed, “Fine.”

Pierre sat up victoriously, turning his hand in yours to squeeze the fingers that were resting against it before taking some cash out of his wallet. You flushed at the intimate moment and pulled your hand away. 

“Your father has one last request,” Mom announced as the group of you exited the restaurant. You turned to face her on the sidewalk, panic in your eyes. She glanced at your father, already nose deep in his phone. “Honey?”

“Huh?”

“Your next birthday surprise for YN?”

“I’m really okay with the birthday surprises, guys,” you murmured. “You being here is definitely enough.”

Pierre stifled a laugh beside you, and this time didn’t earn a glare. “Your father wants to go mini-golfing,” Mom butt in. “It’s this indoor glow-in-the-dark mini-golf he’s been following on Facebook for months now. If he doesn’t go, I’m gonna hear it for the next three months.”

“I can head home,” Pierre spoke, low and intended for you, but your father clapped him on the shoulder.

“No way, hockey star, I want to see that golf swing of yours.”

“Dad!”

“It’s not every day I get to hang out with an NHL player!”

And that’s how you ended up playing golf, in the dark, with your parents and your fuck buddy.

You never thought you’d be thankful to have Pierre around, but you were glad he stayed for mini-golf. Truthfully, you’d never been very athletic, but your dad loved sports, so you played them to humor him. Having Pierre with you just meant that all the competitiveness could stay between the men and you could enjoy sucking at sports with your mom. 

Then, you started losing all the golf balls. Honestly, your dad should’ve expected this very outcome when he decided to bring you to a glow-in-the-dark mini-golf place. 

You lost your ball, and then Pierre offered his and you lost that one too. Three holes later, there was only one ball left and your parents, as well as Pierre, were doubtful that you wouldn’t lose the last one.

“We’ll go get some more,” your dad muttered. “Hopefully, you don’t lose those too.”

You glared at him, earning a chuckle from both of your parents before they walked off to the front desk. As soon as they were gone, Pierre asked, “You’re not very good at this, huh?”

The smile was evident in his voice. 

“I don’t get three months of the year for golf practice like you do,” you muttered, refocusing on the club in your hand. “So, no, I’m not very good at this.”

“Well, for starters, you’re holding the putter all wrong,” he said. His voice was closer now and when you peeked back at him, he was only a few steps away. “Can I show you how you’re supposed to hold it or are you going to hit me over the head with it?”

“Try your luck.”

Pierre stepped up behind you, hands curling over yours to fix their placement. He peeled your fingers off the club, then placed them a bit higher than they had been. His breath fanned across your neck and your shoulders pulled up as a reaction, the tuft of air sending shockwaves through your body. He almost leaned in to place a kiss against your skin, but shook his head as if to scold himself for even thinking about it. 

“Don’t hit the ball too hard,” he spoke before taking a step back. You did as he coached you to and the ball went in the hole with one put. You exclaimed at your hole-in-one and twirled around to share the moment with him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders to tug you into his chest.

“Atta girl,” he remarked in the same voice he used in the bedroom. His hand trailed along your spine and down to your ass, fingers curling into the flesh as he drank you in. You almost got lost in the moment with him, despite yourself, but then your parents appeared over his shoulder and you were shoving him away.

“What are we celebrating?”

“Tiger Woods over here,” Pierre answered, nodding at you. “She just got her first hole-in-one.”

“She’s never done that before,” your dad laughed heartily. His hand came down to pat Pierre’s shoulder. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on her.”

“Maybe,” he repeated, eyebrows quirking up at you. The twitch of your lips gave away the smile that you were suppressing, but he let it go, considering it a small victory.

---

Your parents said goodbye after mini-golf, citing the long drive home as the reason for an early departure, but your mother gave you and Pierre a fleeting look that gave you the impression that they were only leaving to give you time with him. You must’ve said it a hundred times in a hundred different ways that you weren’t dating him, but your mom always liked to believe her own delusions and you could never change her mind. 

Pierre was quiet as you drove away from mini-golf and in the direction of your apartment building, but you weren’t any more talkative than he was. How could you speak when the day sent you into a tailspin? For the first time ever, you enjoyed being around him and when the day was coming to an end, you didn’t want to see him go. 

“Are you hungry?” you asked, voice light, simultaneously trying to keep the day from ending and also all serious conversation at bay.

“Yes, starving,” he answered. “It feels like we ate forever ago.”

“Do you wanna grab something quick?”

Pierre nodded and ended up pulling into a McDonalds not far from your apartment. He ordered a large meal after you ordered your usual, and then he threw a few other unnecessary things, like a kid’s meal and a third McFlurry. 

When you got back to the apartment, he spread it all out like a buffet and you filled your paper plates with food in silence. He felt like he was struggling to come up with something to say to you for the first time ever. It was always easy to rile you up and get you talking, but he was at a loss now and he didn’t have a clue what to say.

He settled on, “I like your dad. Not that it matters, or whatever, but he’s a funny guy. Loves to chirp you almost as much as I do.”

“That’s why I can put up with you,” you responded. “I’ve had years of dealing with him.”

“Did you just compare me to your father?”

“Don’t be gross,” you barked, smacking his arm. He laughed heartily at that, crinkles at the edge of his eyes as he dug into the fries in front of him. You laughed with him, amazingly so.

Conversation died as you ate with both of your minds running at warp speed. It was hard to make sense of the day, of how much you enjoyed each other’s presence, when you were still together. But you didn’t want him to go, and he didn’t want to leave, so neither of you even suggested it. 

As he started cleaning up what was left of his meal, your phone chimed and Charlie’s name flashed across the screen. He met your eyes over the phone momentarily before you unlocked it to read the message. You stared at it, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought, then responded quickly and placed the phone face down on the counter. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” he spoke. “And then, uh, I guess I’ll head out.”

He disappeared down the hall and left you feeling slightly stupid after texting Charlie that you were busy. In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have done that, but you had and now you needed to convince Pierre to stay. That’s what you wanted anyway, right?”

When he came back to the kitchen, you were throwing your food out and as soon as he stepped in to grab some of his belongings, you stepped up in front of him. 

“You’re not actually leaving, are you?”

“Don’t act surprised,” he murmured. He took a step forward, forcing you to tilt your chin up further to keep eye contact with him. His thumb came up to caress your cheekbone. “You wanted me gone all day.”

“And now I want you to stay,” you whispered. You pulled him closer from the belt loops and watched his eyes rake over your body. “At least for a little while longer.”

“Why are you playing with my head?”

The smirk you shared with him was wicked as you answered, “Because it’s fun.”

His fingers slid to the back of your neck while his other arm curled around your waist to pull you into his chest. You kissed in the kitchen for what felt like an eternity, much longer than you’d ever spent on doing it before, and finally, he lifted you up to carry you down the hall to your bedroom. 

He laid you back on the bed and undressed you slowly. He kissed each inch of skin as it was exposed from beneath the fabric covering you and his hands were everywhere, squeezing the meat that he hadn’t been able to touch all day, the skin he was dying to touch. He kissed down your stomach to your thong, finger hooking beneath the waistband to tug them down and get you completely naked in front of him.

“YN, tu es si belle,” he whispered, eyes flickering back up to your face. You flushed beneath his gaze and gasped as he situated your legs over his shoulders and leaned in, breath fanning across your core. He kissed the inside of your thighs while his blue eyes drank you in. Your chest heaved in anticipation.

He held your hips down as he dove in, and within minutes your back was arched and your legs began to shake over his shoulders. You cried out as you came, fingers curled into his hair, grinding against his mouth and nose as he worked you through it. 

When he finally pulled away, he kissed up your inner thigh to let you come down from your high. Then, he crawled up the bed to hover over you, shuttering as your hands slid beneath his t-shirt to pull it over his head. His jeans were next, and finally, his boxers. When his cock was finally free, he reached over to the drawer and grabbed a condom. You slid it on for him and he dropped his head to your shoulder at the touch of your fingers around him. 

The moment it was on, you began to flip onto your stomach. That’s how he usually wanted you, but he stopped you from moving and gathered your wrists in his hand to pin them above your head. His lips met yours again, desperate and needy.

You felt the head of his cock against your mound and groaned in sexual frustration, so he reached down with his free hand and aligned himself with your core. 

“You’re okay?” he asked. You nodded, bottom lip pinned between your teeth to the point of breaking the skin. He kissed you once more, hoping that you’d relax with him and you did. With his knee, he nudged your legs apart and then he pushed his head past your folds. As you arched, his lips met your collarbone. 

“Happy birthday, baby.” 

The pet name set you on fire, but you could hardly focus on it as he thrust into you. The movement of his hips was shallow and slow, nothing like the other times he’d been between your thighs. He held you close, chest-to-chest. The level of intimacy so intense compared to those times you’d shared before when you were simply using each other to chase a feeling. This was different, and you both knew it. 

“Luc,” you sighed as he filled you up, stilling inside of you for a moment to breathe and take in the way you spoke his name--a name you’d only ever called him once and he’d wanted to hear every day since then. “Please.”

“Patience,” he spoke, rolling into you some more. “I’ll take care of you, but I wanna take my time.”

So, you let him take his time and basked into the feeling of the way he filled you up and surrounded you. You listened to the way he spoke to you, softly and often in French, and you noticed the way he responded to your body, the way that no other man ever had. He read you like a book, as terrifying and insane as it felt to realize that, and you couldn’t get enough.

He finally dropped your hands and immediately, your nails curled into his back as he worked your body. He propped your leg up on his hip to thrust even deeper than he had before and with each roll of his hips, you felt him deep inside you. You moaned against his shoulder and he cursed loudly in French as you rolled your hips to match the movement of his.

“I want to cum with you,” you whispered in his ear. He sighed, then nodded before pulling back to thrust into you with a little more power behind it. His hands found your hips as he leaned back on his knees and thrust into you, pulling you down onto his cock as he did so. You were a mess beneath him and he watched your breasts bounce as he fucked you. 

“Cum, baby,” he whispered, returning to the position he’d been in moments ago. He knew you were close, he was right behind you, and as he returned to the previous position, you shouted out. “Come on. With me.”

“Luc, you’re so good,” you moaned. “You fuck me so good.”

Pierre’s hand found your clit, thumb circling the sensitive nub as his lips met yours in a rough kiss. His heart pounds in his chest as your orgasm finally reached you, whimpering and moaning beneath him as he chased his own high. It wouldn’t take long with you unraveling beneath him and, finally, he cums, hips stuttering as he filled up the condom. He dropped his weight onto you, breathing ragged, and your hands began to scratch the skin of his back soothingly as you both caught your breath. 

About a minute later, he rolled over onto his back and discarded the condom while you ran to the bathroom. He rested against the headboard and waited for you to come back, heart still hammering in his chest from an orgasm like no other. You returned and his eyes tracked your movement across the room. 

“Do you want me to go?”

You looked up at him, a bit like a deer in headlights, and answered, “Um, no. You can stay, if you want.”

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking just a bit. He coughed to clear his throat and nodded. “I’ll stay.”

[collecting-stories]

Rick - ep. 09 - Georgia

Summary: After you and Daryl spend the afternoon together Rick and Michonne come over for beers, Rick finally figuring some things out.

A/N: I wanted to add more depth to the relationships in this version of the series. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Daryl sat in the passenger seat, window rolled down as he smoked a cigarette, watching you sitting behind the wheel of his truck was more enticing than he thought it would be. He figured, this truck being akin to a child, that he’d be keeping an eye on you so that you didn’t damage her while you were driving but in fact it was just the sight of you in the driver’s seat, taking precious care of something special to him, that was making it hard to turn his gaze away.  

“Ya ain’t a bad driver.” Daryl commented, smoking blowing out the open window as he spoke.  

“I told you!” You laughed, “you know Rick Grimes?”

“Yeah, how do you?”

“Our mama’s went to school together, his mom’s my godmother. But he taught me to drive.” You supplied.  

A week before you got your permit your dad went on a week-long bender that resulted in his third stint in rehab. Your mom had asked Rick if he minded teaching you, telling him that your dad’s brother had passed away and he’s gone up to Virginia to be with his family. One year he’d caught the flu and another time an uncle in Tennessee had passed and he’d gone to bed with family’ because apparently your mother had married a family man.  

Rick had been happy to help and you’d been happy to have him teach you. If you could’ve had an older brother you were sure you would’ve wanted it to be Rick. He was a little older than you, Daryl’s age, but he had always hung back at kids' tables and parties and church picnics with you, never letting you feel left out.  

“He ain’t too bad.”

“Of a person or of a driver?” You asked, glancing over at Daryl as you slowed to a stop at a streetlight.  

“Both, likes to hassle me whenever he drops by.”  

“I didn’t know you were friends!” You said, already preparing all the questions you were going to ask him next time he came into the diner.  

“Ain’t clipping pictures to my visor or nothing,” he remarked, grinning when you frowned at him. There was a picture of Maggie and you from last year’s Harvest Festival clipped to your visor in your jeep and Daryl had teased you about it when he’d first noticed it there.  

“I’m gonna get a picture of me and clip it to your visor so you can see my smiling face every morning.” You replied.  

“Lucky me.” He managed to sound sarcastic as he said it but he thought immediately that he wouldn’t mind a picture of you in his truck, tucked away to look at whenever he was having a shitty day.  

“Where am I going once I get in to Woodbury?” You asked, crossing over the pike to take the back way into town. You liked backroads better than the main highways, something you and Daryl had in common. He wasn’t as much of a backseat driver as you thought that he would be.  

“The industrial park on the other side of Cartwright...ya know where that is?”

“As long as you tell me where to turn.” You passed the Woodbury diner, the chrome exterior catching the sun and drawing your attention. “We should get food there on the way back.”

“This ain’t a whole day thing...I got stuff ta do when I get back.” Daryl replied, taking a look passed you to the diner as the truck continued on.

“It’ll be fun, come on.” You begged, glancing over at him.  

“I’ll think about it.”  

-

Daryl lacked the ability to say no to you, something he had already known to be true but discovered over again when he told you to pull into the diner in Woodbury after a stop off at the bank to cash his check. You led him to a table in the back that had a tiny jukebox on it and he rolled his eyes as you ignored the menu in favor of finding a quarter.  

“Ya play any a that crap ya listen to I’m leaving ya here.” Daryl piped up as you dropped the quarter in.

“I was gonna play Dolly...it’s classic.”

He shook his head at you and you stuck your tongue out at him before settling on Bruce Springsteen. “You have a beef with the boss too?”

“Nah, this is fine.” He replied as the sounds of ‘I’m on Fire’ played in the booth. A little too on the nose, he thought, as he sat across from you watching you read over the menu.  

“Do you like working at the slaughterhouse?”

“I cut up dead cow all day long...not exactly the dream.” Daryl replied, “my brother got me the gig after I dropped out and I been working there since. Got bills to pay.”

“Does your brother still work there?”

“He’s in jail.”

“Oh. Sorry-”

“Ain’t your fault, he’s a fucking moron, got himself arrested. Been fucking up since we were kids.” He shrugged. He loved Merle but he certainly didn’t like him. Merle had gotten him in more trouble than he could keep track of.  

“I don’t have any siblings...I think I was enough.” You replied.

“I’m sure.” He teased, grinning at you.  

When the waitress came around to take your orders, she winked at you, assuming, you were sure, that the two of you were on a date. You smiled back at her and Daryl rolled his eyes when she walked away.  

“Are ya like that too?” He asked, “too perky for yer own good?”

“Probably. The happier you are the better the tip.” You replied, shrugging.

“I’m sure ya get tips just cause everyone knows who ya are.”  

“Well yeah.” You shrugged, “I can’t wait to get a different job.”

“Ya ain’t thrilled waiting on people all day?” Daryl asked, biting at his thumb to calm his nerves. He was sitting across from you at a diner and you were fishing in your bag to play the same Bruce Springsteen song over again.  

“No. I hate it. People are the worst!” You replied. There was nothing you could think of worse than having to deal with people all day. “What about you though? You have to deal with annoying people coming in to get their cars fixed.”

“Yeah I’m sitting across from one of ‘em.”

“Shut up!” You laughed, nudging his leg with your foot, “you love spending time with me.”

“You keep saying I do.” He said it but he knew that you were right. He liked spending time with you a little too much.  

-

Rick sat in the Adirondack chair that you usually occupied whenever you were over, cooler full of beer next to him. Daryl finishing some work on your jeep, showing Michonne the repairs he had done while Rick talked about passing his sheriff’s exam.  

“Ya ain’t President of the United States Rick,” Daryl cut off the second wind of the same story, laying his wrench down to look over at his best friend. Michonne laughed, shaking her head at the two of them. “Ya just made deputy.”

“Yeah and it’s a pretty big honor I’d say. Not everyone is out there making deputy D.” He replied, taking a swig of his beer.  

“Well as another person who made deputy, I’d like to point out that it isn’t the hardest thing in the world either.” Michonne piped up, grabbing a beer from the cooler. She handed one off to Daryl, taking a better look at the Jeep he was working on. A tassel made of different color yarns hung from the rearview mirror with an air freshener that looked especially feminine too, certainly not something Daryl would hang in his car. “Who’s Jeep?”

“Nobody’s, just doing a favor.”

“A favor for...” Michonne trailed off, popping the driver’s side door open. Daryl didn’t say anything as she slipped into the seat, taking a look around the inside. Vinyl stickers on the dashboard and as she scanned her eye caught the picture in the visor.  

“I been thinking the Jeep looked familiar to me,” Rick piped up. He’d thought one more than one occasion when he stopped ‘round his friend’s house that the Jeep he was working on was one he had seen around town though he couldn’t place it. “Just don’t know why.”

“That’s cause ya ain’t a good cop.” Daryl joked. Michonne laughed as she pulled the picture down and looked at it.

“I’m assuming it’s not Maggie Greene.” She said, handing off the picture to Rick.

“No, Daryl-”

“I’m just fixing her car.”

“What am I missing?” Michonne asked, looking between the two of them.

“She doesn’t need any trouble D, she gets enough of it.” Rick said, handing the picture back.

“I’m just fixing the damn car Rick. It’s my job.” Daryl repeated, tossing the wrench he’d been using, listening to it clang against the car before falling to the ground.  

“That was her backpack, wasn’t it?”  

“I didn’t ask her to come around.” He insisted.  

“You gotta stop seeing her.”

“I ain’t seeing anyone.” Daryl replied, “I gotta repeat myself? Ya ain’t her family, anyway. Ya can’t tell her what to do. Or me, for that matter.”

“Someone’s gotta look out for her.” Rick replied, “lord knows she’s not good at knowing what she needs.”

“What is going on?” Michonne asked again, stepping out of the Jeep and closing the door.

“Nothing’s going on.” Daryl snapped.

“I can’t believe your-”

“Swear to god Rick, I ain’t repeating myself again. Either shut the fuck up or get the hell off my property.”

“Whoa.” Michonne held her hand out when Daryl moved closer to Rick. She turned toward Rick, “I think you need to cool off.”

“We’re not done talking about this.” Rick announced, looking passed Michonne to Daryl. Before his best friend could say anything in response Rick was walking down the driveway to where his car was parked. He climbed in, slamming the door, before taking off.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” Michonne asked, looking back to Daryl as he picked up the wrench he was using, “And don’t give me the ‘ain’t nothing’ excuse. I know when something is nothing and this clearly isn’t.”

“Said I’d work on her car cause she didn’t have the money to pay Dale.” Daryl shrugged.  

“And?”

“Don’t know.” He replied, honestly. He didn’t know and he didn’t like to think about it too much.  

“Come on D,”

“I said I don’t know.” He insisted, shrugging his shoulders in defeat, “I just like having her around.”

“You got a crush.” Michonne smiled, watching the way his face flushed.  

“I ain’t gonna keep ya ‘round if yer gonna make fun a me.”

-

taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @oncemorewithfeelingg @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @kylieeepalmer @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare  @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap  @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano 

[mando-ag]

Remember Me ~* The Lake

Summary: Din meets reader in the city part during winter, seeing reader for the first time as she plays with children. He quickly realizes this is his destiny.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, filler, Sensual language. I think that's it loves.

w/c: 2.6k

A/N y'all this is ch.2 of the remember me series. slowly picking up the pace here ;) this one is a filler as well but I hope you enjoy it. <3

The heat warmed your cheek as the sunlight peeked through your curtains in the early morning. Sighing softly you started to get ready for your morning, begrudgingly so. It wasn’t hard to tell that you weren’t a morning person. It just deemed unnecessary for you to get up and do something you didn’t even enjoy. But living in the real world, it’s what you have to do. Need work to pay for bills and food, the bills fund the essentials in your home. Just a boring, irritating cycle of life.

Heating up your electric kettle for some coffee, you washed the leftover dish from the night before, making a mental note to buy more dish soap at the market today. It was Wednesday, the usual day you went shopping for groceries. Why? Who knows, you just get excited because it's the middle of the week for you.

You thought it would probably be best to write down everything in a list because you knew you would forget even if you decided to memorize it for an hour.

Shampoo, dish soap, cooking oil, dryer sheets.. Um what else am i missing.

You looked around your apartment, adding things to your list you knew you would need. Once you were finished you folded it up and went to grab your purse, heading to the store before going to pick up the three rascals.

Definitely your favorite thing about living alone is that you don't need to buy an excessive amount of anything if you don't want to. Beginning to fill your cart with the things from your list, you consciously look around to see if maybe, maybe, you’ll see Mando again.

You need to chill, literally just met the guy and all you mentioned was a book. He literally doesn’t know you. You mentally scolded yourself as you walked through the lanes, grabbing what was on your list. Humming softly as you grabbed shampoo and conditioner, you heard soft giggling on the other side, hearing a man talk to what you presumed to be his child. Your heart sped up as you let your mind believe that it was Mando, listening carefully for the man’s voice again.

“Shit!” You whispered, checking your appearance through your phone camera. “I literally look so bad.” You mumbled, trying to fix your hair a bit more. Slipping your phone into your pocket, you pushed your cart nonchalantly as you heard the voice come close, you could see from the corner of your eye he was there.

Taking a deep breath, looking away from the many options of shampoo and conditioners, you finally turn and face Mando... except it wasn’t him. It was just some random dad with his kid. Hiding your disappointment, you awkwardly waved to the pair, grabbing what you needed before leaving that aisle quickly.

“Oh my god, that was so fucking embarrassing.” You mumbled to yourself, blushing from your stupidity. To think he would actually be there made you stoop a new low. “I need to get laid.” You sighed to yourself as you went to the dairy products. You finished off getting what was on your list, paying and placing it all carefully in your car.

On the drive back to your apartment, you hummed along to the radio, wondering if it was the universe trying to tell you something about Mando. I mean he’s cute… wait what? I don’t even know what he looks like. Yeah I got it bad. You internally fought with your rational side, deciding to stop thinking of Mando for the time being.

Putting everything away, you grabbed a few snacks to take to the kids, getting back out to your car and driving to their much bigger home. All three kids rushed out, greeting you excitedly as you stepped out of your car.

“Hello my little munchkins!” You said, kneeling and hugging all three little rascals. Standing as their parents stepped out of the house with suitcases. Keeping a smile on your face but you were sure the parents recognized the confusion in your eyes. Are they leaving? Yeah no shit, obviously. They have suitcases. You huffed as your subconscious voice was being sarcastic with you.

“Good morning, thank you for coming so early. Jerry and I have an emergency business trip we need to take. We would have told you sooner had we known but like I said this is an emergency trip.” Mrs. Stenson told you, giving you an apologetic smile.

“It’s quite alright Mrs. Stenson, I’m assuming you want me to stay with them?” You nodded to the three children who cling to your side.

“Yes please, we would appreciate it greatly. The trip is one week. We will triple your pay and send you extra money for the three of them. I know this is asking a lot of you… if you’re not comfortable i can find someone else but..” She trailed off looking at you with a hopeful look on her face.

Realizing how much she would be increasing your pay, you quickly nodded. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind watching over them. It’s fine.” You told her, giving her an understanding smile.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She gave you a quick hug before putting the suitcases in the car. “You know where everything is, if you need extra money, please call us. She turned to her kids, kneeling down the best she could because of her tight pencil skirt.

“My darling angels. Remember mommy and daddy have to leave but we will be back. Now you three better be on your best behavior or you can’t go to disneyland. Remember? Daddy said if you behave, we can all go to disneyland. “ All three kids perked up nodding. “We’ll be good mommy!” The eldest, Jaime said, excited that his reward would very possibly be a trip to disneyland. The girls murmured in agreement with their brother.

“Okay, come give daddy and me a quick kiss before we go.” She said, the kids kissing her cheek and the father’s. “I love you, my little babies. Behave well.” She gave them a tight hug before getting in the car with her husband leaving for the airport. Mr. Stenson wasn’t as affectionate as his kids but they knew their daddy loved them even if he didn’t say it as often as their mother did.

Ushering the kids inside the large home, making sure the doors were all locked. Okay, keeping three kids all under the age of ten entertained would probably be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you were determined.

“Okay, it’s breakfast time! What would you like to eat?” You asked, staring at the three wide-eyed children. “Waffles!” Penny shouted, jumping in excitement. Her brother and sister agreed, chanting waffles as you got the ingredients.

“Waffles it is then! Go watch tv and I will bring you your waffles when they are ready. How does that sound mm?” You asked but the kids scurried away as soon as you said tv, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

***

After feeding the children you took them out to the lake, making sure you had their skates in a bag. Usually you would take them to swim but since it’s frozen, the kids wanted to ice skate instead. Laying down a thick towel and a blanket on top of it, you sat at the edge of the grass, a few feet away from where the actual lake began.

“Don’t go too far. I checked and the ice is thick enough but you have to be careful. Loretta, you can skate here.” You pointed to the area where you wanted her to be in. She was the youngest and you were afraid that she could get severely hurt if she went too far.

Helping the kids onto the ice, you sat on the blanket, watching them carefully. You didn’t want an accident to occur. The worst thing that had ever happened when you were watching them was Jaime stepping on a leggo and his foot was in a lot of pain for a few minutes.

Hearing a rustling behind you, you quickly stood and turned around alarmed. Relief and surprise filled your body as you realized it was Mando… with a small child… or baby? Of course, even though you can’t see his face you can just tell he was older than you by a couple years. So he has a kid… meaning he either has a wife, baby mama, or just a single dad. You cleared your throat after a moment, realizing you’ve been staring.

“Sorry, I didn't know it was you… I thought it was an animal or something.” Blush creeped up onto your cheeks, feeling slightly embarrassed. Rubbing your arms, you quickly turned to watch the kids, making sure nothing had happened yet. Glancing at Mando as he walked and stood beside you.

“I should’ve made my presence known. Lake day for your kids too?” He asked, looking at the kids before focusing on your face. You nodded, looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a long week… is he your son?” You wanted to smack yourself for asking such a stupid question. Obviously, he said “your kids too” meaning this one is definitely his.

Chuckling, he nodded. “My son Grogu… I adopted him when he was… younger.” Din nodded to his son, he looked quite interesting. A very tiny little child with a bald little head and green skin. How is he so… adorable and tiny? You thought to yourself. Not being able to stop yourself from blurting out the question that had been itching at you since you saw him with his little green son.

“Are you married? Or have a girlfriend?” You asked, looking at him through his black visor. Feeling your stomach clench and your chest tighten as you nervously await his answer. Feeling more anxious to know as he looked away from you towards his son instead.

“No, I’m not married… and I don’t have a girlfriend either.” Din finally answered after a minute of silence, easing your emotions. Moving slightly closer to Mando, you looked at his hands. “Would you like to sit with me?” You motioned to your little spot you had set up on the ground.

Nodding, Din sat down next to you once you had made yourself comfortable. Looking towards the children. Determined to get to know him, you built up confidence to try to converse with him.

“How long have you lived here?” You asked, looking at him. He hummed softly, barely able to hear it. “About three months.” He replied, not looking at you. Three months?! That’s it? It surprised you how little time he’s spent there. You thought a man like himself would’ve lived there longer, probably just kept to himself but you were completely off the mark.

“Oh cool, do you like it here?” He nodded, looking at you. “I do, safer place for my son to live. Be with kids his age.” Motions to the children playing and skating together.

You looked at them, biting your lip as the cold started to seep into your jacket. “Dammit.” You mumbled as you shivered.

Din looked at you, noticing your shivering. Deciding to be bold, he wrapped an arm around you, your body tucked into his side. Blushing from his action, you pressed your face into his arm, trying to warm up. “Thank you.” You told him, the both of you enjoying the silence between you.

After a few hours, you stood to stretch your legs a bit. Looking at the kids, you noticed they were tired. “All done?” You asked as you walked to the ice. Penny nodded, yawning.

“I’m hungry!” Jaime said, pouting as he lazily skated towards you, holding his baby sister’s hand. Smiling you helped switch their skates to their normal shoes, putting the skates carefully in the bag. “Yeah? We’ll let’s go and fill those tummies up shall we?” You hummed softly before turning to Mando.

“Would you like to come with us?” You asked him, watching as he stood up. He nodded, taking his son’s hand and guiding him to the car. “I’ll follow you there.” He mumbled as he picked up his son.

You drove the kids to the restaurant, smiling as Mando walked in after you, standing close to you as the hostess showed you to the table. Sliding into the booth after all the kids were seated together, including Grogu. Mando slid in next to you, looking at you, “Hope you don’t mind.” His voice sounded deeper causing blush to creep onto your face.

“No worries.” You picked up a menu, asking the children what they would like to eat. After they all chose, you looked towards mando. “See anything you want yet?” You asked him, looking at the menu before looking at his face, blushing when you saw him already looking at you.

“I’m not too hungry, maybe I’ll order something to go.” He replied, his voice gruff causing you to clench your thighs together as you imagine his voice from underneath your pu- Stop it. You’re about to eat with KIDS you fucking horny bitch. Clearing your throat you nodded and proceeded to order what you wanted. Watching the kids interact, you felt Mando’s hand touch yours, causing you to stiffen your back at the unexpected touch.

“So.. what do you do for a living?” You asked Mando, taking a sip from your drink. He sighed softly, barely audible if you weren’t paying attention. He leaned back, his helm facing you,”I’m a bounty hunter. I get paid to hunt people down, bringing them back to people they owe debts to.” He watched your face, waiting for your reaction.

You were surprised, from your understanding that profession is quite dangerous, especially for him since he is a father. It made you curious as to why he would have that profession since he is a dad. Voicing your curiosity, you asked him.

“Why a bounty hunter? Not that it is a bad profession, it’s just that you have a child. You have a lot to lose if something happens to you.” Tilting your head to the side, you waited for his response. You looked over at the kids when they got a bit rowdy, telling them to calm down.

“It pays well enough for me to put food on the table for us. For our home. As long as I know that he is alive and safe, I am fine. I’d do anything for him.” He told you, looking towards his son for a moment. You could easily tell he truly loves his son, caring deeply for him. At some point during your conversation, your hand slipped comfortably into his, neither of you seemed to mind or be upset from the tender action. You began eating the meal, watching the children eat, making sure to have minimal mess from the four children eating in front of you two.

***

You both were outside the restaurant, the children saying good-bye to Mando’s cute little baby. The kids piled into the car, chatting loudly.

“Mando… I-I really enjoyed talking to you today… and maybe, um, we could do it again.” You said nervously, you planned on speaking confidently, but once you actually spoke, his stare made your soul tingle and all confidence slipped away.

“I think that would…” He watched your hopeful eyes, your nervous demeanor. “... it would be a great idea. I think it’ll be… good.” Good? The fuck does that mean?? Din mentally slapped himself, that was the weirdest thing he has ever said.

Blushing deeply you nodded, reaching into your purse and writing your number down on a piece of paper, handing it to him. You felt your confidence build up again as he didn’t reject you. Thank God.

“Call me.” You smiled, leaning in and kissing his helm where his cheek would be. You walked to your car, getting in and waving to him as you drove home. What a fucking day.

A/N Y'ALL this took a long ass time to write. mainly because I kept changing things around and school takes my time away! But I got it done!!! I hope y'all liked it, I know its very ~dull~ for the most part.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 1

cruel summer masterlist

AN: It’s here. Idk what the posting schedule will be like, I have no idea what my writing schedule will be like, but... I think it’s gonna be 25ish chapters? Maybe? Who knows. It’s gonna be fun, I think. I hope. Looking forward to hearing everyone’s thoughts. Alright... without further ado...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rowan Whitethorn is having a really horrible day. Not just the kind of bad that he can shrug off, but the kind that seeps through his skin and sinks into his bones, that permeates even the smallest thing, turning everything into a giant annoyance.

First, he missed his alarm, so his grumpy manager, Lorcan, has been even grumpier with him since he pulled through the gates of Ashryver Playland this morning. The amusement park job is less than ideal. Rowan hadn’t planned for his summer to be taking tickets and cleaning up melted ice cream cones from sweaty-faced teens – but it was the only place that called him back, and he doesn’t come from the type of family that can afford to pay his rent. So unless Rowan had wanted to spend the summer in his mom’s unairconditioned apartment, dodging set ups with her mahjong circle’s daughters, this was his only option.

It's nearly 3PM, and Rowan still hasn’t been able to take his lunch break. He knows that’s adding to his bad attitude. Rowan has a tendency to get hangry, or so his coworker Fenrys tells him. And because he was in a rush this morning, he forgot to pack his lunch. Which means he’ll have to spend money buying overpriced crap at the park.

Rowan’s also on trash duty today. Which means he gets to spend the whole day circling the park grounds with a giant broom and pan and pick up the fallen bits of funnel cake and popcorn and soda cups and dump them into the closest trash. Then, once those are full, he gets to haul the heavy bags of stinking trash all the way to the back of the park where the dumpsters are. It’s pretty much his worst nightmare. Though Rowan isn’t opposed to physical activity, he’s not super fond of smelling like rancid garbage. He tugs at the collar of the too tight uniform polo shirt stretching uncomfortably across his chest and frowns. After a bag split all over him earlier, Rowan was forced to go diving in the employee lost and found for another uniform. Apparently, the only person who’s missing a shirt is two times smaller than him. He sniffs himself and nearly gags. He can’t wait to get home and shower. He look at his watch … in … five more hours.

“Whitethorn,” Lorcan calls, crossing across the yard at him. “Take your thirty now. Then you’re taking over for Connall at the ferris wheel ‘til closing, yeah?”

Rowan barely contains a shudder upon hearing his new assignment. He hates trash, but working the ferris wheel is somehow worse. He didn’t realize until last week that’s where every middle schooler goes on their first make out date. He’s had to pull too many kids off the ride, feeling like their disapproving father as he pulled their clashing braces apart to make room for the next patrons in line. Frankly, he finds PDA disgusting. And the sight of thirteen-year-olds going at it is enough to scar him for life.

At least Rowan finally gets to eat something, though. The oppressive mid-day heat combined with hours of physical labor and no fuel has him feeling like he could keel over any second. He grunts his acknowledgement at Lorcan and makes his way to the closest concessions stand, which luckily has barely a line – I guess since it’s 3 fucking PM and not actually lunch time. Rowan is about to step forward when he feels tiny fingers poke against the back of his knees. He’s about to snap at whatever parent to keep their kid on a tighter leash when he realizes there is no parent, just a kid – and the kid is, in fact, trying to get his attention.

“Um, excuse me? Sir?” the little boy says. Rowan’s never been a sir before. He hates it.

“Yeah?”

“I think I lost my family,” he says resolutely, not sounding even a little bit scared. “Can you help me find them?”

Rowan’s stomach grumbles and his head pounds. He knows he has to return this child to his family, but he also knows he needs to eat immediately or he’s going to lose it.

“We can absolutely do that,” Rowan begins, “but I haven’t eaten all day. Do you think you can wait like… ten minutes?”

The little boy nods and sticks out his hand. “I’m Gavin and I’m five.”

“Hey, Gavin. I’m Rowan and I’m hungry.” Gavin giggles at that, and Rowan finally cracks a smile and shakes the boy’s hand.

Rowan steps up to order, thinking about what’s going to be the fastest, since his thirty minute break is going to include an unforeseen detour to security at the entryway of the park. “Can I get a hot dog, a pretzel, a cherry coke and…” He looks at the little boy next to him. “Anything for you?”

Gavin’s eyes widen with glee. “Cotton candy?!”

“…and a cotton candy.”

Rowan reluctantly hands over a $20, saying goodbye to three hours of hard work. But he has no choice. They get their food and make their way to the eating tent. Rowan keeps his eyes open for anyone looking panicked or in search of a child, but he doesn’t see anyone who fits the bill.

Rowan inhales his hot dog in record speed and takes a giant gulp of his cherry coke and immediately feels better. Sitting under the shade of the tent helps, too. The pair sit quietly and eat their food. Gavin swings his legs happily as he peels off pieces of his cotton candy, licking the sticky sugar from his fingers.

“So…” Rowan has no idea how to talk to a kid, but he figures he should ask him a few questions to figure out who to return him to, at least. “Who are you here with today? You said your family?”

Gavin nods excitedly, the sugar clearly starting to make its way through his tiny body. “Yup! My whole family is here today. My mom, my dad, Auntie Ae, Nana and Grandpa.”

“Wow.” Rowan’s heart tugs slightly. “That’s fun. Any special occasion?”

“Nope. We come every week,” Gavin says.

“Every week?” Rowan asks, his voice rising in pitch. He’s trying to do the math of the ticket prices. $30 for six family members. That’s $180. For every week of the summer…? Rowan’s mental math skills stop there, but he knows that’s a LOT more than he’s ever been able to casually throw down.

“Yup. Since I was a baby,” Gavin says. “It’s my family’s special place.”

“Think your family would adopt me?” Rowan jokes. He loves his mom a lot, and she did the absolute best job raising him, but they’ve never had a special place. His mom thinks adding guacamole to her Chipotle bowl is special. Not that Rowan disagrees. Guacamole is a perfect condiment.

Gavin finishes his last lick of cotton candy and holds his red hands up at Rowan. “I’m sticky.”

Rowan shoves the final bite of his pretzel into his mouth and stands up. “Me too. Let’s go wash our hands and then find your family. Sound good?”

Gavin nods, skipping next to Rowan, his little shoes lighting up as he matches the striding pace. They make their way to the row of porta-potties and outdoor sinks, which line the side of the park. As Rowan washes his hands, he notices Gavin struggling to reach the stream of water. Of course. He’s only five.

“Need a hand?” Rowan asks, and Gavin nods, holding his arms up to be lifted. Rowan’s arms burn, since he’s been picking up giant bags of trash all day, but he manages to keep Gavin mid-air until he’s finished cleaning the sugary crystals from his hands. He’s putting Gavin back on the ground when he hears a loud voice shrieking behind him –

“YOU! SIR, STEP AWAY FROM THE CHILD!”

Damn it.

Rowan sighs and turns, letting his hold on Gavin drop completely. This is so not what he needs right now.

“Gavin, honey, come here,” the voice calls again.

Rowan searches to see who the voice belongs to and is momentarily stunned. Gavin’s mom is… young. And hot. Her golden blonde hair is swept away from her face in a high ponytail, resting softly down her bare back, on display in a strappy yellow tank top. And her jean shorts show off her long, tanned legs. Rowan stares a beat too long because the next thing he hears is, “Gavin, earmuffs,” and suddenly the blonde woman is inches away from him, in his face and pushing at his chest with her pointed finger. She is mad.

“Stay away from this little boy, you pervert!” The woman’s eyes flare angrily as she pushes Rowan’s chest again forcefully with her finger, and he is not having any of that. He grabs her finger in his large fist and moves it away from him, making the woman stumble back slightly. Her mouth widens into a small circle as she looks up at the man grabbing her finger.

“I’m sorry, pervert?” He chuckles humorlessly. “This little boy asked for my help finding his irresponsible family. Who lost him. I work here.” Rowan uses his other hand to point to the stupid logo on the corner of his polo. “He happened to find me on my lunch break. Maybe if you’d been a more responsible mother you wouldn’t feel the need to get this worked up the guy who was clearly about to take your kid to security.”

“Mom?” the woman says, horrified and snatches back her finger. “Oh my god.” Her demeanor shifts entirely as she looks to Gavin and motions for him to uncover his ears. “Gavin, please tell this very rude man that I am way too young and cool to be your mom.”

Gavin frowns. “I don’t think he’s rude, Auntie Ae. He gave me cotton candy.”

The woman’s eyebrows shoot up in accusation. ‘You gave him cotton candy? You’re only proving my point.”

Rowan puffs out his chest defensively. “I’m sorry, is cotton candy a sex offender favorite? I wouldn’t know.”

“You clearly offered sweets to a child to lure him away from his family!” she says way too loudly, looking around and making a show of her statement.

“Quiet down!” Rowan snipes through gritted teeth. “I need to keep this job, for fuck’s sake.”

The woman smirks and steps closer. “I think your employer deserves to know you were luring children away from their families!” she exclaims dramatically, attracting the attention of a nearby security guard.

“No,” Rowan says, his voice increasing in volume as well. He’s had it up to here with this day, and this woman has grated his last nerve. “That’s not… Listen…” Rowan takes a deep breath. He really cannot lose this job. “I was starving and about to go on my lunch break when some poor lost kid asked for help finding his family. I told him he could order something with me, since I felt bad. Sorry. I’ll be sure never to be polite ever again.”

Rowan has gotten in “Auntie Ae’s” face, and he’s breathing hard. He’s worked up, and he knows it’s not her fault, but fuck this day.

“Is everything alright here, Ms. Ashryver?” the approaching security guard asks, and Rowan pales.

The woman steps back and takes a breath, her fury melting into a warm smile for the guard. “No, Frank, everything is fine. Just thanking one of our newest employees, who made friends with Gavin today.”

The guard chuckles. “He run off again?”

The woman’s eyes flash in warning and the guard shakes his head. “Ah, don’t be mad, Aelin. You did the same exact thing when you were his age. Running from ride to ride and driving your old man crazy.”

Rowan crosses his arms as the guard saunters off, and the woman turns back to him with a shy smile.

“Ashryver, hm?” Rowan asks, feeling a little ill as he pictures the large Ashryver sign that hangs over the entryway to the park.  “So, what is this, like… hazing?”

“No! I was really only going to make the one joke and then let it go,” the woman says, biting her lip guiltily and shoving her hands into her jean shorts pockets. “But then you called me his mom and I just… got carried away. I do that sometimes. I’m Aelin. Ashryver.”

“So I heard.” Rowan rolls his eyes. “You know there’s absolutely nothing funny about calling someone a predator, right? I could be arrested if the wrong person overheard that.”

“You’re making me feel very bad,” Aelin says with a grimace.

“Good,” Rowan says resolutely. “Because now I’m also late to get back to work.” He’s more than a little annoyed at how this entire exchange has played out. And even more annoyed that he can’t stop staring at Aelin’s bright blue eyes. This is the last thing he needs. He’s about to head off when –

“You’re really not going to tell me your name?” Aelin asks, tilting her head up, trying to figure Rowan out. Rowan’s about to reply when she cuts him off, not even giving him a chance. “That’s fine. I’ll find it out. I have connections, you know.”

“I’m sure you do, princess,” Rowan says. Her lips purse at the nickname, and Rowan can’t tell if she loves it or hates it.  

“See you, stranger,” she replies, dismissing him and grabbing Gavin’s hand as she walks off. Just before turning the corner, she tosses her ponytail over her shoulder and looks back. It’s only when she winks at him that Rowan realizes he’s still standing motionless, watching her go.

[thisissirius]

beauty in the small things eddie/buck, vermont au

for day two of @eddiediazweek | therapy. for @hearteyesforbuck who has been waiting oh so patiently for this.

I don’t want therapy.

I don’t want to self-medicate.

I don’t want to be a failure to my son.

How, then, is a guy supposed to deal with everything he suffered during war without damaging himself and his family?

Yeah, writing wasn’t my first thought either, but here we are.

“Mom thinks you should stop doing that,” Sophia says.

Eddie snorts, swirling the drink around in his glass, and gives Sophia a look over the top of it. “I’m not going to drown my sorrows in drink.” He makes a face. “I’m not about to self medicate.”

Sophia knows him better than anybody else in the family. Adriana is his little sister and he adores her, but they don’t have a lot in common. He and Sophia are closer in age, and they were never really their father’s priority in the way Adriana is. “Eddie.”

“I’m not,” Eddie says. He puts the drink on the small table and tips his head back, staring up at the sky. Christopher is playing in the garden with Sophia’s two kids—twins—and giggling. Eddie lets the sounds wash over him and he swallows down the urge to lie. It’s not easy to talk about everything, but Sophia is the one person he can trust with his emotions. “I don’t want to do that kind of thing. I don’t want to—it’s hard, I’m not gonna pretend, but I know guys who have self-medicated and I’m not. For Chris’ sake.”

“And your own.” Sophia’s words are quiet, and she surveys the backyard. “You have to talk to someone.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I don’t see why. There’s nothing wrong with just not dealing with it.”

“So what do you do,��� Sophia says, leaning forward in her chair and hitting his knee, “when you’re having a nightmare you can’t wake up from and Chris finds you? What if you have a flashback and Chris is right there? What if—”

“You made your point,” Eddie snaps, rubbing his hands over his face. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t deny those thoughts have run through his own head. Chris needs him to be everything he can be; bad enough that he’s gotta deal with Eddie holding down three jobs while trying to keep their heads above water.

Chris giggles again, looks back over his shoulder. “Dad! I’m hungry.”

“So are we,” Alexa says. Andre echoes his sister a second later.

Eddie snorts. “Alright, Chris. Give me a sec, okay?” Giving Sophia another sharp look, he ducks back into the house, blowing out his breath slowly. It’s hard to hear, but civilian life isn’t easy to adjust to. Eddie’s finding it difficult every day, and it doesn’t help that his parents are breathing down his neck, telling him what he should and shouldn’t be doing for Chris. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re right and he should leave Chris with them. Maybe going back overseas—

No. Eddie’s made a promise to Chris and he’ll never break it.

When he finally makes it back outside with sandwiches, he runs them by Sophia.

“Bromundo,” she says, kicking his leg. “I’m not Mom.”

Eddie winces—both at the kick and the nickname—and sticks his tongue out at her. Childish, but it’s so easy to be so around Sophia. “Kids! Food!”

With the kids settled, Eddie relaxes back in his chair. He can feel Sophia watching him and he doesn’t know what to say in return. He rolls his eyes. “What?”

“You should write about it,” Sophia says.

Eddie snorts. “What are you talking about?”

Sophia slips her sunglasses up onto her head. Her eyes are bright, worried, and Eddie tries not to let it bother him. He worries about her, so it’s only natural. “Eddie, I don’t want this to get bad, understand? No,” she says, watching his eyes dart back to Chris, and she touches his knee, squeezes. “You, Eddie. I know you’d never let anything happen to Chris if you could help it, but I want you to be okay for you.”

“You didn’t want me to go in the first place.”

“Of course I didn’t. No sister wants her brother to go to war. Even less when they’re the one thing protecting you from a disaster of a home life.”

Eddie snorts. Their childhood wasn’t that bad, especially not with Abuela checking up on them, but he knows what she means. “And you’ve never forgiven me.”

“Nope,” Sophia says, settling back in her chair with a grin.”So I guess you should listen to me.”

Eddie doesn’t make any promises, but later that night, when he comes awake suddenly, tears drying on his face and the phantom memory of sand, death, and the smell of blood, he can’t help but reach for his laptop. His hands are shaking as he opens a document, fingers hovering awkwardly over the keys.

Everything feels so much and he blows out a breath, thinks of Chris in the next room who deserves so much more, and starts to write.

It can crush you, the fear.

Buries you under tons of pressure, memories, and horror. Sometimes I’m scared I won’t wake up; that I’ll be left in Afghanistan amongst the blood, screams, and echoes of the bombs. I worry that my son will find me trapped in a memory and I’ll scare him. I’m afraid that I’m not the right person to be raising him, that somehow, my worries and fears will drag us both down.

I’m trying to be the reason he turns out as a good person.

Facing your fears is the hardest lesson, but a worthwhile one to protect those you care about.

Eddie hates Thanksgiving.

It’s the worst kind of pressure, having all the family around to remind him of things he’d rather forget. His abuela’s here, though, currently lavishing attention and kisses on Christopher, and his parents have all but avoided him for most of the day. That will change once dinner happens, of course, but he can hold out until then.

Adriana comes up behind him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Eddie!”

“Hey, Adi,” Eddie says, whirling and hugging Adriana. “How’s college?”

“Exhausting,” Adriana says, with a grin. “But I’m almost done and then I can get out of here,” she says, waving a hand.

Eddie’s never been fair, really, to Adriana. He and Sophia are close, assuming that Adriana loves being the apple of her father’s eye, but it’s easy to see why she hates it. “Nice. Where will you go?”

“New York probably,” Adriana says. She leans against the fence, staring off across the garden to where their parents are laughing with the kids. Eddie feels a rush of anger when they stick close to Chris, but he shoves it down when Adriana nudges him. “Are you sticking around?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Eddie says.

“Actually, you might.”

Eddie jumps, and Adriana peers around him as Sophia dances towards them. There’s a nervous expression on her face, but she’s also brimming with happiness. Eddie raises his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay, don’t be mad.”

“I don’t think anybody’s ever heard that and not been mad,” Eddie says carefully. “What did you do?”

“So,” Sophia says, holding out a sheet of paper. When Eddie tries to take it, she snatches it back, holding it out of reach.

“Sophia—”

Adriana is smaller, slips behind Eddie and takes the paper. “Oh, fuck.”

“Adriana,” Eddie snaps, gesturing at the kids.

“Eddie,” Adriana says, showing him the paper.

“Listen,” Sophia says. “I found your book when—”

Eddie stares at the piece of paper, hands shaking. “This was private!”

“I know,” Sophia says, stepping closer. She looks nervous again, swallowing and holding her arms. “I didn’t mean to find it. I wasn’t even sure you’d listen to me. But I was transferring pictures on your laptop to send to Pepa and I read and it knew it would be amazing, Eddie.”

“I can’t publish it.” Eddie’s staring at the words, though, of someone who wants to do just that. “I didn’t even write a book, not really. It’s just words. How did this even happen?”

Sophia reaches out, touches Eddie’s wrist. “You might not think it was, but Eddie, I couldn’t put it down. I love you, you’re my brother, and I didn’t know half of what was in there. I know it’s an invasion of privacy, but I want this for you; for people to see how brave and intelligent you are.”

Eddie doesn’t feel like either of those things, but he also doesn’t want to be stuck in his head anymore. Hasn’t he done that enough? Doesn’t Chris deserve better? “I don’t know.”

“I think you should do it,” Adriana says, shrugging when both Eddie and Sophie stare at her. “I’m not stupid, Eddie. I know what Mom and Dad wanna do and I know why you don’t want to live here anymore. Isn’t this the way out of that?”

The signing bonus is making Eddie feel a little sick. “I don’t know.”

“It’s your choice.” Sophia leans in, hugs him gently, and Eddie lets it. A beat later, Adriana joins in. When they pull apart, there’s an interesting look on Sophia’s face. “But if you don’t, Christopher will grow up here.”

Eddie knows what she’s trying to do. He’s not angry, not really. It does hurt that she’s done it all behind his back, but when he thinks about it, the chance to move away, to give Chris whatever life he wants, that means more than any hurt he feels. “Alright.”

Adriana and Sophia cheer, drawing the attention of everyone else, but he doesn’t care what they say; there’s a life opening up before him and Christopher free from everything else.

Hope is a strange thing.

I’ve had hope at many points during my life.

When I thought of my family. When we got my son’s medical diagnosis. When I was shipped out. When I wanted to come home.

It can give you the courage you need to go forward. There’s a sense of euphoria that comes from your hope being rewarded. There’s also a sense of despair that comes with hope not being enough.

My son’s mother left. Confirmation of my son’s disorder. Ending up in Afghanistan. Getting shot once, twice, three times.

Hope is a fickle thing.

That doesn’t mean that you ever stop feeling it.

Sophia is true to her word;

The book gets published under a pseudonym. Eddie pays off his medical bills. His parents ask where he got the money from, but Adriana and Sophia keep his secret. Chris is happy; Eddie can work less and still be around, he can watch him grow.

Eddie doesn’t care to watch what happens with the book; it’s embarrassing enough that it’s out there. People are apparently reading it, which he finds out from Sophia and Adriana both. They have a phone chat, constant messages that he wades through every day, and notes the occasional update on his book sales. Apparently, it’s a bestseller, whatever that means, but Eddie can forget it easy enough.

Chris takes up a lot of his time.

Much like Valentine’s Day, which he spends with Christopher’s school class. It’s interrupted by a phone call, and Eddie picks it up, sending an embarrassed look towards the teacher.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Diaz?”

Eddie frowns, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, and leans against a wall so that he doesn’t fall over. The words are going in but it’s taking him a while to understand them. The caller is a woman with a kind voice, who seems to understand what he’s feeling.

“Is that satisfactory?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course,” she says, sounding amused. “I’ll give you some time to think it over, Mr. Diaz. Give us a call back within three days, or we’ll assume you’re not interested.”

Before she rings off, she gives him the signing bonus, and Eddie thinks he’s about to throw up, has to lean over and breath slowly through his nose. When he recovers enough to go back into the classroom, he knows he’s distracted and that Chris knows.

“Is everything okay, Dad?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, voice shaky, but there’s happiness welling in his chest so he crouches down, touches Chris’ face. “I think things are about to get even better for us.”

Chris looks excited, even if he doesn’t know what Eddie’s talking about.

Later, when Chris is in bed, Eddie calls Sophia.

“I was just about to step into the bath. You have the worst timing, Bromundo.”

“Please stop calling me that,” Eddie says. Then, “I think I just got a movie deal.”

There’s silence from the end of the phone.

“Sophia?”

“Wait, wait, I’m calling Adriana.”

Eddie frowns down at his phone, but Adriana joins the call and he snorts, puts the phone back to his ear.

“I’m studying,” Adriana snaps. “Do you guys know how hard it is—”

“Eddie got a movie deal,” Sophia says in a rush. Eddie can hear the happiness in her voice, the excitement, and he lets the same bubble up in his chest. He’s been trying to keep it at bay, to ignore it, but now he lets it loose, grinning up at the ceiling in an attempt to control himself.

Adriana lets out a cheer—which is probably gonna piss off their parents—and Sophia laughs. “Eddie, that’s awesome!”

“I don’t think I really believe it,” Eddie says. “I don’t even know what it means.”

“You didn’t get the paperwork for the option?” Adriana asks.

“What?”

Adriana sighs, laughing but also sounding annoyed. “Eddie, they have to option a book before they can greenlight it. If you’re getting the green light, it means that they love your book. Like, a lot.”

Eddie doesn’t understand it; he doesn’t know what happens when a book gets picked up. “It doesn’t even feel like a book that gets a movie.”

“It’s about a war veteran,” Sophia says quietly. “Whatever people think about that, it’s a story that needs to be heard, Eddie.”

“So,” Adriana says, cutting across the silence Sophia’s words leave behind. “How much are you getting.”

When Eddie tells them the cheque they’ll cut him, his sisters scream again, and Eddie feels a tremendous weight lift away from his shoulders.

State of change means to change from one state to another without a chemical composition change.

My chemical composition doesn’t change, but my mind does. My body does. My emotions do. I may look like a breathing, living human, but inside I feel like I’m flying apart in a million different directions. There’s a monster on my shoulder. A voice inside my head. A shadow following me down the street.

No matter where I turn, there’s something reminding me of what a failure I am; of a son, of a father, of a brother. I have made mistakes that I can’t escape from, but that doesn’t mean I stop trying to be better. I can break out of a cycle I have forced on myself. I can fight the monster on my shoulder. I can silence the voice in my head. I can see the light beyond the shadow.

It’s a hard fight, and I have a million reminders of the ways I am still failing, but I am strong enough to continue on.

Change can always be a good thing.

Vermont.

Freedom and Unity.

Mountains are green. Or something.

Eddie hates it.

There’s a tree in his fucking house. Chris is crying, scared, and Eddie wraps an arm around his shoulders, and tries not to cuss. Holding Chris tight, he carries him out of the room, shushing him gently, and taking him through to the living room.

“You okay?”

There’s a yell from the front door, and Eddie looks up to see his neighbour Bobby and his wife Athena. “There’s a tree in Christopher’s room.”

Athena immediately comes forward, crouching down in front of Chris, and touching his cheek. “I’ve got Chris, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, reluctant to leave Chris, but lets Bobby lead him towards Christopher’s room. Bobby lets out a low whistle when he sees the damage, and Eddie presses a hand to his face. “He could have been killed.”

“Eddie,” Bobby says immediately, resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “You can’t think like that, okay? Chris is fine, he’s alive. There’s damage, sure, but—”

“It’s not just that,” Eddie snaps, stepping away from Bobby. “It’s everything. Busted pipes, the outlet that almost set the whole damn kitchen on fire, the fact that I have nobody here. My son loves his school, loves the state, but every time I walk out of the house, I feel like I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. I don’t know anybody, I miss my sisters, and I just want to not feel like a failure.”

Bobby lets him get it out, just stands in the middle of the room, amongst the debris, and Eddie tries not to imagine it’s him, in the wreckage of his life. “You feel better now?”

Eddie snorts.”Not really.”

With a kind smile, Bobby gestures to the mess. “I’ve got a tarp in the basement. I’ll grab it and we can cover this up.”

Eddie nods, folding his arms across his chest. “Thanks.”

“I’m gonna give you some advice, alright?”

Not sure he’s going to want to hear it, Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Bobby smiles. “You have friends, Eddie. I think the fact that Athena and I are here is proof of that, no?” Eddie’s got to nod at that. “There are plenty of people in this town, however small, that would like to get to know you. You’ve kept to yourself for a long, long time.”

Eddie admits that is true. “I find it hard to—I can’t make friends easily.”

“It’s not easy,” Bobby says. “But you have people in your corner, Eddie. You just have to want it.”

With another nod, Bobby gives him the out, and leaves the room. Together, they cover Christopher’s room with a tarp, making sure it’s weighted down with bricks and sturdy debris that won’t get dislodged during the storm. Athena gets them a safe place to stay for the night; her friend Hen lives across the street. Eddie recognizes her immediately and almost says no on reflex; she lets her dog pee in his yard every fucking morning and he’s tired of it. Except that she’s got a kind smile, apologizes immediately—”I thought you were an asshole,” she says, sotto voice—and offers up their son’s room for Eddie and Christopher to sleep.

“We shouldn’t—” Eddie starts.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna be outside in this,” she says, waving a hand. “Besides, I can call my contractor in the morning and get you some help.”

Eddie agrees because Bobby is right; he could do with some friends.

Loneliness is a difficult feeling.

I used to think I had everything. Family, friends, a job I loved. That’s before war; my friends couldn’t put up with me flaking because of my PTSD. My family couldn’t handle the memories I couldn’t share. My job was responsible for everything falling apart.

Suddenly, I was lonelier than I had ever been.

Covering those feelings isn’t easy. People are watching; when they think you have problems, they always do. Even if those problems are certified, medical, and something nobody would want given the chance.

Friends are something I can’t afford.

Or is that just something I tell myself?

Evan Buckley is—

Evan Buckley looks—

Well, fuck.

“Hey.” The guy standing on Eddie’s doorstep has muscles on top of muscles. He’s dressed in shorts, a tank, and a flannel shirt. He’s wearing boots that are scuffed and dirty, and his toolbag is slung over one shoulder. He grins, smile lighting up his face and fuck, it’s been a long time since Eddie’s felt the gut punch of attraction. “I’m Evan Buckley.”

“Diaz,” Eddie says, internally wincing. “Uh, Edmundo—Eddie, Eddie Diaz.”

Evan’s smile widens. “So—Which one of those should I call you?”

“His name’s Eddie,” Chris says, coming up behind Eddie. “And I’m Christopher.”

If Eddie thought Evan’s smile had been brilliant before, it’s so much more as soon as he lays eyes on Chris. “Hello, Chris,” Evan says, bending down. “Those are some cool crutches, buddy. You like Nemo too?”

Chris’ crutches had been one of Eddie’s superfluous purchases; specially made with Nemo decals and themes. Chris adores them, and Eddie’s proud of himself for that one choice. Chris grins. “Dad got them for me!”

“Did he?” Evan says, looking back up at Eddie. “He sounds cool.”

“He is,” Chris affirms, and Eddie’s chest flutters. “Do you like being called Evan?”

Evan winces. “Actually, how about you just call me Buck?”

“Okay, Buck,” Chris says easily. “Are you here to fix my room?”

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry.”

Evan—Buck frowns. “Don’t be. Nothing’s wrong.” To Chris, he winks. “You bet I am. Wanna show me?”

Buck seems content to walk at Christopher’s pace, following them through to Christopher’s bedroom. He stares at the ceiling, eyebrows raised, then back to Chris. “He was in here?”

Eddie nods, not wanting to think about it. He looks away for a moment.

“Can you fix it, Mr. Buck?”

“I’ll try,” Buck says, then leans down and pretends to give him a conspiratorial look. “Can your dad not do it?”

Chris giggles. “Dad’s okay with some things, but abuela says to never let Dad have a hammer.”

“Hey,” Eddie says.

Though he tries to keep his tone light because he knows Chris is just joking, it hurts that his mother is talking about him like that. There’s something knowing in Buck’s look, but he covers it quickly. “I better take a look outside first. Then I’ll do all the hammer work, buddy.”

As they work, Eddie tries to keep Chris out of the way, but it’s a lost cause; Chris is following him around, asking questions at a mile a minute, and while Eddie’s expecting it to bother him, Buck doesn’t seem to be annoyed. He answers every question, seems enthusiastic with his replies, not that Eddie can tell what those questions are.

Buck is—well, Eddie can’t stop watching.

Whether it’s the way he flexes his muscles, the smile on his face, or the stretch of skin between shorts and shirt that gets exposed when he stretches. Eddie’s doing his best to not have an emotional breakdown. When Christopher is busy with lunch, insisting on eating it outside so he can see Buck work, Eddie hovers nearby, leaning against the entrance to the doorway so that he can see both Buck and Chris.

“Thanks for doing this.”

Buck gives him a quick glance, flashes a smile. “No problem.”

Eddie searches for a subject, latches on to the first one he can think of. “What’s that tattoo of?”

Buck’s got a lot of tattoos and he grins, gesturing at himself. “Which one?”

“The one over your heart,” Eddie says. “I can’t read it.”

“Want me to come closer?” Buck’s expression is guarded, but there’s a look in his eyes Eddie hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Um,” Eddie starts. “I don’t think—”

“It’s a quote,” Buck says, turning back to the roof. He shifts along on his knees, working on the next beam. “From my favourite book.”

There’s a pause. “Well?”

“You’ll find out one day,” Buck says.

Eddie tries not to hear it like a promise.

I missed you all the time.

Those are the words I focus on more than I like to. They’re words my son said to me when I first came home from Afghanistan. Knowing that I would have to do so again, that I needed the medical coverage from the Army was heartbreaking. I didn’t want my son to miss me. I didn’t want to be the kind of father who would leave.

Leave I did. Because I thought I was doing the right thing.

Sometimes, the logical choice isn’t always the right choice.

I am here now. For my son and with a ton of baggage I wish I could shed. My son doesn’t seem damaged by what I have done and every day, I’m grateful. I know I am not the only person who has raised my son, but sometimes it’s hard not to be proud of everything he is; that kindness I have yet to find in somebody else.

“Want me to check out the rest of the house?”

Eddie’s a little offended that Buck looks at his house and thinks it needs more help, but given the way he yelled at Bobby and started this whole thing off, he supposed it’s right. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I thought this would be a good buy.”

“It still can be,” Buck says kindly. “A lot of houses in town were like this. Though if it’s the money—”

“Not a problem,” Eddie says easily, then thinks about how that might sound. “I mean, it’s not—”

Buck smiles gently. “You bought this house, Eddie. However much help it needs, it’s nice. Big. I assume you have some money. Or is that too forward? Chim’s always saying I talk too fast and don’t think first.”

Eddie laughs, feels his nervousness slip away in the face of Buck’s own. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m still figuring out this friend thing.”

They lapse into silence. Chris is at school so he’s not there to break the silence, and Eddie doesn’t know how to fill them himself. He’s still figuring out how to be a person comfortable in his own skin. Maybe he should re-read his own book. Apparently it helps people and besides, the movie’s supposed to hit theatres soon.

It takes the better part of the late morning for Buck to go around the whole house, marking down on paper what needs fixing. It’s a long list and Eddie’s stomach drops with each new thing. “That much?”

At least Buck’s expression is apologetic. He softens it with a smile. “I can fix them all though!”

“Great.” Eddie can at least count on Buck being around a little bit longer, even if it’s only a few days.

“Although,” Buck starts. His face falls along with Eddie’s happiness. “I’ve got classes and other jobs lined up that I can’t just—it’ll take me a few weeks to get it done.”

Buck keeps talking but Eddie’s not really paying attention. He’s thinking about weeks and having Buck around—okay, so he’s mostly thinking about the fact that Buck’s gonna be mostly shirtless in his house for even longer.

“I could always see if Chim can find someone else,” he starts.

“No,” Eddie snaps quickly. At Buck’s surprised look, then hurt expression, he takes a step forward. “I mean, Chris is pretty shy. I don’t want—someone else would be a pain. You could—you could stick around.”

Buck’s smile is brilliant.

Love.

Love isn’t something I see for myself.

Attraction. I’ve had that. Comfort. That’s been there. My son’s mother was a beautiful person, a good soul, but she just couldn’t be a mother. I respect her choices, loved her for them, but I am not sure if I loved her. I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone in such a visceral way that isn’t my son.

Someone who will care for me, will look at my fears, my experiences, and not see someone who needs to be fixed.

But see somebody, broken, put back together, but worthy of a love that consumes us both.

A few choice words could be the life raft you need to come home.

To be seen. To be found. Isn’t that what we’re all searching for?

Buck presses Eddie down onto the couch.

Eddie traces his fingers over the curve of Buck’s ribs, follows the cursive with his hand. “This quote. I know it. Where’s it from?”

“My favourite book,” Buck says, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s jaw, moves slowly across to his lips. The kiss is lazy, wonderful, and Eddie’s hands drift down to Buck’s waist, holds him in place. It’s comfortable in a way he���s never expected he could be, and Eddie closes his eyes, hums gently. “It’s called Tango Uniform.”

Eddie freezes. “What?”

Buck rocks back a little, straddling Eddie’s hips. He looks pleased, pink blushing over his cheeks. His fingers rest against Eddie’s chest. “Have you heard of it? It’s by this virtually unknown author and he’s so good, Eddie. His writing is perfect.” Buck ducks his head. “Not that you want me to talk about that.”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. He’s not sure he knows what words to find, but then Buck’s ducking back in, kissing whatever he would say right out of his head.

Everyone deals with trauma differently.

I hear that so often, so many different ways.

I’ve always felt as if my trauma didn’t matter. My son has a whole future ahead of him that’s going to be difficult. People I knew, friends, died in Afghanistan; their families had a future of nothingness. People out there have suffered the unimaginable, and I have dreams sometimes, can’t stop myself having episodes of memories.

Trauma never felt like the right word, but maybe that’s because I don’t believe myself worthy of having trauma.

Believing that I am is the first step to becoming the person I want to be.

“Are you kidding?”

“Shut up,” Eddie groans, resting his forehead on his arms. “I couldn’t even tell him.”

Sophia cackles. “I can’t believe this is happening. I love it.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at her, but it doesn’t help. “He took his shirt off.”

This time, Sophia’s laugh is almost hysterical. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to tell Adriana about this.”

“Nope,” Eddie says, holding up a hand. “You can’t tell anyone else!”

Sophia shrugs easily, leaning on the table in front of her. Her kitchen looks immaculate, and Eddie knows he caught her mid-clean, but he’s not sorry, he needed someone to talk to. “I love you so much. Though, honestly, I have half a mind to come up there and knock some sense into you.”

Eddie snorts. “No, don’t do that. I’m absolutely certain I would never survive you and Buck meeting.”

“I like the sound of him.” Sophia sounds gentle, and her smile is warm. “You look happy.”

“This whole book thing,” Eddie starts. He struggles for the words, finds them. “It’s made me happy. I have you to thank for that.”

Sophia looks embarrassed, but she smiles brightly. “You did the work, Eddie. You wrote everything, you put those feelings onto the laptop. I just spurred you into action.”

It’s true, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t grateful. “Thanks, Sophia.”

“You’re welcome, Bromundo.”

“What did I say about that!”

Someone once told me; your punishment is that you lived. Now make it worth a damn.

Everyday, I try.

The next time Buck comes over, this time to finally fix the sparking outlet in the kitchen, Chris is sitting at the table. He’s doing his homework but spending most of the time trying to talk to Buck.

“Work,” Eddie warns. “Otherwise I’ll send Buck home.”

Not that he could; Buck’s only got so many spare nights and Eddie knows it. It gets Chris moving, though, focusing back on his homework. Buck snorts, working against the counter, and Eddie looks at him, admires the curve of his shoulders, the length of his body. It’s hard not to stare, to remember the way he’d felt pressed against Eddie’s hips, the way he’d fucked into him, curling hands around Eddie’s neck and whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“Eddie?”

Eddie looks up. “Sorry, what?”

Buck laughs gently. “I was saying, I think I’m done.”

“You alright here for a second, Chris? There’s something I wanna show Buck.”

“Okay, Dad. As long as we get pizza for dinner.”

Eddie pauses, narrowing his eyes. He knows it’s bribery, but he doesn’t care. “Alright, fine. Pizza.”

Chris goes back to his homework, pleased, and Buck raises his eyebrows. Whatever, Buck doesn’t know anything. As they walk through to the bedrooms, Eddie thinks about how things have changed; Buck’s clothes are in his closet; there’s a toothbrush in the bathroom that doesn’t belong to Chris or Eddie; there are textbooks and movies and items Buck’s brought over that are still there. Buck’s in every area of Eddie’s life, and Eddie doesn’t want anything to change. He’s worried it will, though.

“I have to tell you something,” he says, turning to face Buck head-on. “It’s not bad, or I don’t think it is, but it’s a lie.”

Buck raises his eyebrows, face expressionless.

“It’s—that book?”

“Tango Uniform?” Buck frowns, then something clears. “Have you read it?”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. “I wrote it.”

Buck laughs.

Eddie feels his stomach drop. “Someone once told me; your punishment is that you lived. Now make it worth a damn.”

“Everyday I try,” Buck finishes. “Eddie.”

Eddie looks down at the floor, unsurprised when Buck rushes out of the room, and he swallows down the urge to cry. He can’t, he won’t allow himself. All he can think about is having to tell Christopher why Buck’s gone and he can’t bear it—

“Listen,” Buck says, and Eddie’s head snaps up. “This,” he says, shoving a dogeared book at Eddie, “is my favourite part.”

The book is his, Eddie realizes. His hands are shaking as he takes it. The shape of the book; Buck’s obviously read it a lot. There are pages turned over, things bookmarked with pieces of paper and highlighter, and he feels something burst in his chest. “Buck.”

Buck’s hand is on his chin, and Eddie lifts his head at Buck’s prompting. There’s an expression on Buck’s face he can’t understand. “This book? It’s the reason I’m here, Eddie.”

“In my house?”

Lips quirked up, Buck shakes his head. “Vermont. Here, wherever I wanted to be. It gave me the courage to be the person I thought I couldn’t be. I’ve read it so many times. I fell in love with every word before I even really knew who you were.”

“You love—”

“You,” Buck finishes.

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay if you can’t—”

“I love you too,” Eddie says. “Buck, I love you.”

When Buck kisses him, Eddie knows that every moment that’s come before is nothing to this; the future he, Chris and Buck have stretching out before them.

For Buck; I am seen. I am found.

[barrysjumpsuit]

the dark side - jj maybank x shoupe’s daughter, ch. 2

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of domestic abuse

summary:  catherine shoupe has the perfect life. when she gets hired by heyward to run groceries, she has a new coworker - jj maybank. as the deputy’s daughter, she can’t help but hate him. but when jj decides to bring her to the dark side and woo her over, cat not only has to hide her activities from her father, but learn who her father really is.

a/n: this is mainly character development (with plenty of JJ), angst and fluff to come next chapter :-) for the first chapter my tags weren’t working, so if you haven’t read it, you can read chapter 1 here

----

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, and Pope was quickly in between the two of them.

“Can we not?” he addressed both of them, exasperated. “At least not in front of my dad.”

Cat rolled her eyes, moving to the side of the boat to push off the dock while JJ sauntered to the steering wheel. 

Maybe this was a bad choice. Lane three sounded nice right now. She tried to push her thoughts away as she sat on the back of the boat.

Pope sat down next to her, and they sat silently until he spoke. “You know, Cat, he was a kid back then.”

“He still said and did that stuff though,” she grumbled, picking at the frayed hems of her denim shorts. “And nothing has changed since then.”

She remembered that day well. Back when she went to the same middle school as Pope and JJ and the rest of their crew. It was the age when kids become cliquey, and start to push boundaries. Cat had always been the girl whose dad was a cop, and when she was younger, it was cool. He would do talks at her school. Her classmates’ attitudes changed once she hit middle school. Kids were becoming more in tune with their parents’ perspectives on cops, and they started getting trouble as well. In a place like the Outer Banks, although it is paradise on Earth, kids got bored.

Kids like JJ. He had always had a troubled life in addition to a smart mouth and loose lips.

She overheard him one day, talking about how his father would beat his mother. Cat felt like it was her obligation to tell her dad and, after enough pestering and begging from her, he agreed to look into it.

A few days later, JJ had decked her across the face with a solid right hook. He yelled at her, awful things about how her father was destroying families and lives and that she was too dumb to see it.

A month later, his mother left them in the middle of the night.

The two of them hadn’t associated since. Cat’s dad brought him up sometimes. “JJ stole another box of condoms from the Dollar General.” “JJ got into another fight at the Boneyard.” “Someone saw JJ stumbling down main street drunk.”

Ever since his mother left, JJ’s mischief escalated.

Cat looked over at him, piloting the boat. His back was to her, and he was leaning against the side of the cabin, gazing out onto the water, his loose hair fluttering in the same breeze that rustled the grocery bags. 

JJ looked over towards her, his icy blue gaze chilling her despite the warm air. Looking away, she trained her eyes on her feet.

“Brr,” Pope said, as if reading her mind.

“He can apologize to me,” Cat decided, thinking out loud. Part of her hoped her words were lost in the wind, so that JJ didn’t hear them. Another part of her hoped he heard.

Pope just sighed before they launched into small talk the rest of the short ride to Figure Eight. It didn’t take long; JJ pulled the boat up beside the dock while Cat jumped onto the worn wood, clipping the boat in at the stern and tying it at the bow.

As Pope and JJ handed the groceries down to her, she noticed that JJ’s gaze was intense and lingering. Purposefully avoiding it, once the last of the groceries were unloaded, she picked up the bags and started walking down the dock to the Thompson’s house.

The boys eventually caught up to her, and they delivered the groceries, Mrs. Thompson slipping each of them a $20 bill as a tip.

“Is this a normal thing?” Cat asked, holding up the money as soon as they were on their way back to the boat.

“Sure is,” Pope said.

“The more good looking you are, the more they tip,” JJ said, peering at Cat over his sunglasses and pretending to lick the money. It was crumpled up from being shoved in his pocket.

The three of them finished up six more deliveries that day. The sun was setting as they docked at Heyward’s. Cat’s skin was reddened from the sun, her hair sticking to her face with sweat. Her interaction with JJ hadn’t been any more than a couple brief exchanges. Luckily, Pope seemed to stick to Cat’s side and JJ kept to himself.

Dinner was just being put on the table as Cat got home, and she didn’t bother cleaning up before sitting down. Her parents flooded her with questions about her new job. She told them about Pope, but not about JJ.

----

The first week of work had passed uneventfully. Most days she worked with JJ, but a couple of days, it was just her and Pope. JJ hadn’t addressed the tension between them, and Cat sure as hell wasn’t going to make the first move. He largely ignored her when they worked, which she was fine with.

She decided she liked the job well enough. She made good money with the pay raise and tips, and she could work on her tan, rolling up the sleeves of her work t-shirts and knotting them at the bottom while she was on the boat for a little extra breeze and exposed skin. 

Cat and JJ had just finished their last delivery of the day. The sun was slowly dropping down towards the horizon, casting everything in deep shadows and a golden glow. She definitely couldn’t help but notice JJ’s hair, tousled by the wind of the day, and how it caught the evening rays of sunlight as he disconnected the gas can from the boat.

End of the day checks usually went pretty quickly. There was a checklist kept on board that Cat went over, and she held it while she locked up the cabin of the boat.

JJ’s voice sounded from behind her. “Kitty Cat…” 

“Don’t call me that,” she interrupted, not looking up from what she was doing and maneuvering the padlock so that she could lock the door.

“...I’ve blamed you, you know. This whole time.”

JJ’s words made Cat stop going through the checklist. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck the checklist,” he said, pulling it from her hands and tossing it on the table in the middle of the boat. Did JJ want to get real with her? The look on his face said yes: the way his blue eyes were hard yet soft, the way his jaw was clenched, the way his fists were balled up. 

Cat raised her chin to meet his gaze before he continued.

“I’ve blamed you for the past five years. For everything.”

“That’s not very ni-”

“Shut the fuck up and let me talk,” he burst, bringing his hands up and waving them in a frenzy. Cat took a step back at the movement, and JJ’s face dropped. “Cat, I-”

She turned and walked away, but she could only walk a few feet until she was sitting on the side of the boat. JJ sighed, then went to sit next to her. He was silent for a few moments before speaking. “I’d like to talk things out between us. Want to get dinner?”

“My parents are expecting me home for dinner,” she replied, not looking at him. He sighed, moving slightly.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course,” he said quietly. “I forgot people do that kind of thing.”

His words hurt. She felt stabbing pangs of guilt inside her.

Almost without realizing, Cat picked up her phone, dialing her father.

“Hey Cat, what’s up?” he answered, the sound muffled. She heard the clicking of a turn signal in the background.

“Hey dad, I’m not going to be able to make it home for dinner tonight. We’re flooded with orders at work and have to do some late runs.”

“Alright sweetie, just text me when you’re on your way home, okay? We’ll save you some leftovers.”

“Thanks dad, love you.”

“Love you too, Cat. Be careful on the water tonight.”

At that, Cat hung up, meeting JJ’s eyes for the first time. He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Where are we going, Maybank?” she asked, and a grin spread across his face.

Half an hour later, they were seated on the back patio of The Wreck, JJ claiming the Carreras gave him a “best friend discount”. They ordered, then sat in an awkward silence, Cat waiting for JJ to speak up.

“I’m sorry I hit you that one time,” he said suddenly, pulling Cat’s eyes up to meet his intense gaze. “I never should have done that. You were worried about me. You were trying to help. I never got to thank you for that.”

“I’m sorry I made your business mine,” she replied quietly. Cat was absently messing with the paper straw wrapper, folding it and ripping it. “I guess I just… felt like I had to.”

JJ was nodding, clearly thinking about her words and how to respond. 

“I shouldn’t have blamed you like I did,” he said finally, giving her a tight smile. “It was just a lot. At the time. It’s still a lot.”

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, and JJ looked up from his drink, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re kidding,” he said, his voice flat.

“I won’t tell my dad. I promise.”

JJ smiled, which turned into a laugh, dimples cratering his cheeks and his hair falling in his face. Behind him, the sun was almost set, only the faintest of oranges lighting up the otherwise dark sky.

“This is a conversation for another day, kitty Cat,” he said, sitting back in his chair. His eyes flicked towards the interior of the restaurant, and Cat turned to follow his gaze. She saw Kiara inside, gesturing wildly and mouthing words at JJ, but stopped and smiled and waved as she noticed Cat looking back.

“Are you sure you’re okay though?” she asked, looking back at him.

He laughed again. “I’m fine. Trust me.” There was an awkward pause. “We cool now?”

“I’m cool if you’re cool,” she replied, taking a sip of her lemonade and raising her eyebrows at him.

“Well, if you’re cool then I’m cool.” She smiled at his play on her words. 

“We’re cool, then.”

“Cool as cucumbers.”

They burst into a fit of laughter as Kiara arrived with their food. “I’m not even gonna ask,” she said, shaking her head, visibly confused. She set the chicken sandwich down in front of Cat before handing JJ his food, whacking him on the head with her serving plate before heading back inside. 

“You two still good friends?” she asked, picking up a sweet potato fry. JJ was in the middle of attacking his burger.

“Very,” he said around his food, and Cat made a face at his manners. She shouldn’t have expected anything less from JJ. “We ‘ang out almost every day.”

“You what?” she asked, grinning, leaning forward on the table, her elbows pressed against the soft wood. “Can you repeat that?”

“We hang,” he said, and a piece of mashed-up food flew out of his mouth as he stressed the word. “H-A-N-G.”

“That’s what I thought, thanks for specifying,” she teased before taking a bite of her chicken sandwich.”

“You should come hang with us sometime,” JJ said, once again carefully pronouncing the word.

Cat almost choked at the proposition, realizing he was serious, but made a point by carefully and thoroughly chewing her food before answering, making direct eye contact the whole time. JJ quickly caught on, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows, waiting for her answer.

“Maybe,” she concluded.

“Your dad tell you horror stories about us?” JJ’s words were nonchalant. He leaned back, tossing a fry into his mouth, expecting an answer.

“Mainly about you,” she replied, taking another bite.

“Me?” he asked, and she nodded. “Well, I’m flattered. What would he think about you and I here, now?”

“‘e’d ‘ate it,” she said, holding a hand over her mouth, catching herself as she spoke with her mouth full.

A wicked grin spread across JJ’s face. “What’d you say there, kitty Cat?”

“He would hate it! He’d disown me!” she laughed, and JJ smiled back at her. 

“Unfortunately, I think that’s the truth,” he said. Cat hung her head in agreement, and the conversation died.

They ate, and Cat was almost done with her meal when JJ broke the silence. “Does he know we work together?”

She shook her head. “He’s bound to find out eventually, though.”

“Can I ask something else?”

“Sure.”

“Do you associate with any other Pogues?”

“No, aside from you and Pope,” she replied, her voice soft. Cat didn’t have to think about her answer. “I mean… I don’t associate with too many people. I have a few good friends. A bunch of Kook families really kiss ass to my family, I guess so the cops stay away from them and whatever they do. My dad hardly even lets me drive through the Cut when I want to surf down there or anything like that.”

JJ nodded, his eyes fixed on the table. 

“You associate with any Kooks?” she asked, turning the question onto him.

“Kie,” he said. “I mow some lawns. Kiss some asses,” he added, winking. “But no, they don’t exactly welcome me over there.”

It was Cat’s turn to nod in response, not able to think of any words that could break the heaviness of the topic.

Luckily, Kiara arrived to take their plates. “One check,” Cat said, and Kiara’s eyes grew wide, looking from Cat, to JJ, then back to Cat.

“Get that smirk off your face, JJ,” she sighed, turning and leaving.

“What’s that smirk for?” Cat pressed, smiling. 

“Nothin’,” JJ replied, shrugging dramatically, his smirk softening into a smile. Cat rolled her eyes, and Kiara returned quickly with the check.

“I’ll drive you home,” Cat proposed, leaving $25 in cash with the check. They stood and began down the steps from the deck to where Cat’s car was parked.

JJ quickly shot her offer down. “My dad isn’t good at forgiving people, kitty Cat. I’ll walk, it’s not far.”

“Oh- okay.” 

“Thanks for dinner tonight. I’ll make it up to you sometime.”

“JJ Maybank? Offering me, a Kook, repayment? That’s a shocker.”

“I’m not all what your dad makes me out to be,” he said, walking backwards away from her. “There’s more than what meets the eye, and that goes for everyone, including your father. Come hang with us sometime, I’ll get you out of your bubble, kitty Cat”

“What do you mean?” she asked, but by the time the words left her mouth, JJ had turned and was jogging away.

---

taglist  @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks​ @shawnssongs​ @queenk00k @broken-jj​  @danielle-yeah​ @wicked-laugh​ @obxhoe​ @talksoprettyjjx​ @kt219567​ @abrunettefangirlnerd​ @apoguecalledjj​

[buckysforeverprincess]

Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 18

James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Clint Barton, Sarah Rogers

Words: 1691

Warnings: Coming out, family acceptance

A/N: I’m so sorry I’m behind with this. I’m still going to try to get the regularly scheduled chapter out as well today, if not I promise you’ll get it this week. This chapter is kind of a filler but with everything it serves a purpose. I hope you enjoy it and I promise you more to come!

**TAG LIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**

The time leading up to Thanksgiving seemed to fly by in your household. Bucky had gone back to school, the two of you being open about your relationship and weren’t willing to hide anything from anyone. If anyone didn’t know the reason for the renewed smile on your face, they either had their heads in the sand or weren’t paying attention to the rumor mill and you honestly didn’t care. Life was on the up for you and Bucky was the reason for it. It’d been a long time since you’d felt this level of happiness within you.

Steve and Bucky had made their way to Bucky's house to clean up one day after school and grab some of the things he didn’t want to leave behind. Steve had told him to grab whatever he wanted, and they’d make it fit in his room. Most of Bucky's possessions were clothes, but there were a few things that held sentimental value and if his dad had his way, he'd toss them, so he thought to take some stuff and be done, letting his dad discard the rest. It really didn’t matter to Bucky if he never had to come back or deal with his dad ever again, he’d be content to live his life parent free. Your boyfriend said he was determined to have a good life despite the people who were responsible for his existence.

Thanksgiving Day arrived and you spent all day either helping your mom or cuddling with Bucky. You didn't have any other family, so you guys always stayed home and watched tv or played games together to pass the time. However, this year was different and there was another person to add to share your small traditions with, hoping this would be the first of many things your family would share with Bucky going forward as your relationship with the brunette grew stronger.

Dinner was in the oven and your mom was in the kitchen, working on an apple pie for your twin. Bucky and you were sitting on the couch, cuddling and watching tv, when you heard a knock at the front door. “I'll get it,” you said, removing yourself from your boyfriend's embrace and getting up from the couch, making your way to the sound. It was a holiday and you weren’t expecting anyone, so there’s no telling who’s standing outside waiting.

Opening the door, you see a blond staring back at you; his hands in his pockets, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “Clinton. To what do we owe this pleasure?” You smirk and lean up against the door frame.

 “Is uh, Steve here?”

 Oh, this is good. “I don't know. It depends.” You shrug and grin, toying with the boy in front of you.

 “Um, depends on what?” Clint scrunches up his face, uncertainty written on his face.

 “On what your intentions are with my brother.” You cross your arms to your chest.

“Baby!” Bucky comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “Leave him alone,” he kisses your temple and grins at Clint, “you're making him nervous.”

 You smiled at Clint. “He should be! If he’s here, then he’s about to be introduced to my mother as Steve's boyfriend. I'd sure as hell be nervous if I was him You were!”

Bucky let's out a laugh. “Well I had just kicked a guy’s ass in her kitchen. Not something you want to associate with the guy your daughter is dating.”

“You know?!” Clint looks at you surprised, his mouth wide open.

 “Of course, I know! I'm Steve's sister, why wouldn't I?”

 “Cause, he said he never told anyone. So that means your boyfriend must've told you!” Clint held an accusing look at Bucky.

 “Oh no! No way! I never said a word!”  Bucky quickly defends himself.

Before anything else can be said, Steve pushes his way through the door and looks around at everyone, his eyes fixate a little too long on Clint. “Uh, you guys gonna eat out here too?”

 “Actually, I plan to stay right here and harass your boyfriend. I love to see him blush.”  

Steve’s eyes go wide in shock, and steps out of the house, shutting the door behind him. “Y/N! What the fuck?! How'd you know?” There's panic written all over his face.

 You scoff at your twin and shake your head. “Please, you do realize you suck at secrets, right?”

The door opens and your mom looks out, glaring at the four of you. “I've got food, hot and ready. If the four of you don't get in here now, I will lock this door and you will spend the night under the stars while I get fat and happy and send the leftovers to the hospital.”  She turns and walks away leaving you all standing on the doorstep.

It doesn’t take long before your group all make your way into the house and to the kitchen, seeing the meal spread out in no particular order. The food looks and smells amazing and you’re so stupidly hungry that your stomach growls just looking at it all.  

“Mom…,” Steve’s standing next to Clint, looking at Sarah who's grabbing the basket of rolls and placing them on the table.

 “Hmmmm?” She's looking at Steve with her eyebrows raised. The look on her face almost giving herself away, but not quite.

“So… um… you know Clint, right?”

 Clint waves at your mom. “Hi Mrs. Rogers.” She nods at him in return and goes back to setting out silverware for the feast.

 Steve smiles and continues, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. “Maybe I should introduce him properly.”

 Your mom stops and looks up at Steve with a quirked eyebrow. “Properly?”

 “Well… uh, see Clint… he's uh, he's…,” Clint reaches out and places his hand on Steve's arm, in a sign of endearment, making him smile down at Clint and take in a deep breath. “Mom, meet my boyfriend.”  

“Fucking finally!” Sarah says and goes back to setting food on the table. “I didn't think you were gonna spit it out. Can we eat before the food gets cold?” You and Bucky start to laugh and sit down at the table, leaving Steve standing looking confused at the demeanor of your mom.  

“You're not upset?”  

 “Why would I be?” Sarah replies and you stick your hand out, directly in her face. Your mom groans and takes a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket, placing it in your hand. “Thought you'd never tell us. Known it for years. I kinda thought you were interested in Bucky, the way he was always around, but that went in the shitter when those two started dating.”  

“You had a thing for Bucky?” Clint asks, pretending to be offended. “Is that why I could never come around when he was over?”

 Steve starts blushing, his face beat red. “No! I swear Clint, he was always just a friend! I’d never be the guy who cheats… hold the fuck up, you two had a bet?!” The realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

 Sarah's the one to laugh now. “Actually, the three of us had a bet…,” she's pointing between you, Bucky and herself, “we all bet twenty bucks. I said you'd come out around spring break, she chose Thanksgiving and Bucky said New Year’s.”

 “The twin for the win!” You announce and grab a roll, setting it on your plate.

 Bucky leans into your ear and whispers, “I'll pay you later.”

“Unfuckingbelievable! My own family is against me!” Steve pouts and throws himself down in a chair, being hella overdramatic.

“Aww sweetheart, don't get so salty. They're just having fun.” Clint sits next to his boyfriend.

 Your mom chuckles and brings over the platter of turkey and sets is down directly in the middle of the table. She then sits in her own chair and looks around at everyone gathered around for the holiday meal. No one touches anything, the four of you waiting on Sarah to say grace. Even if you weren't a Rogers, you'd best know that Sarah takes grace very seriously, and the shit will pop off if you touch anything before the matriarch says o’n.  

“Bucky, Clint, welcome.” She starts and smiles softly at the two newcomers. “This is the first of many holidays you'll probably spend in our home. You'll always have a place here at this table, as long as you're good to my kids. They've both been through a lot, and I'm sure you have too. Mi casa, su casa. You'll always be family here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rogers.” Bucky replies

 “Yes, thank you.” Clint follows suit and Steve grabs his boyfriends’ hand and gives it a squeeze.

Sarah gives a knowing look and you all join hands, your mother ready to bless this meal. “Dear Dia, thank you for this food we are about to receive and the hands that helped prepare it. Thank you for the blessing of my two children, who make every day worth living and many thanks for allowing us to still be together to share this blessed day. This past year has been a rough one Dia, but you've seen us though and we will forever be in your debt. Thank you for the newcomers to our table and the relationships they have formed with Steve and Y/N, and may you continue to bless them as they go forward in love and life. And thank you James, for finding our Y/N and bringing her back into the light from the darkness within. You'll never know how much it means to both Steve and I to see her smiling face again. We have so many other things to be thankful for Dia, and our family will always be grateful and will never take a single thing for granted. In his name we pray, O’N.”

 “O’N” Steve and you reply.

 “Amen.” Bucky and Clint say in unison.

“Fies!” Sarah happily declares and the four of you dig in and start loading up your plates, Thanksgiving at the Rogers home ready to commence.

Irish

*Dia-Lord

* o’n-amen  

*fies-feast

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[babycapell]

new york’s very own baby capell was spotted on broadway street , with a striking semblance to courtney eaton ! you may know them as @capellbabyy or hitting the front page of tmz as natasha fox, suspected con-artist infamously identified as baby, unanimously declared innocent on charges faced in california . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-fourth birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being heartless , but also ambitious . things that would paint a better picture of you would be a cluster of designer shopping bags, tan limbs tangled in silk sheets, a heart shaped sucker dangling between glossed lips. ( cisfemale + she/her  ) +  (  saxon , twenty-six , she/her , cst )

Out Of Character

Guess who’s back again? Honestly I don't know how this is going to go because this is a very new character and quite different from anything I’ve played but I’m incredibly excited to bring her to life! As always, we stay very open to connection ideas and plotting so please do not hesitate to hit me up because me and my child are here for the chaos and drama! <3

Basic Information

Full Name: Natasha Wren Campbell-Fox. Baby Capell.

Nickname(s): Nat. Baby.

Birthday: January 6th.

Orientation: Pansexual.

Language(s) Spoken: English, French, Mandarin Chinese, Spanish.

Background

TW: cancer.

At just eighteen years old, Lucia Campbell left New Zealand and moved to England in hopes of pursuing a career in ballet only to unexpectedly end up pregnant just months later, putting a pause on both her dreams and her future. 

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to her at the time of conception, the child’s father was a married member of the British Royal family - albeit fifteenth in line for the throne, the fact that he had stepped out on his wife and had a bastard child was scandal that could not be afforded.

Although the man tried repeatedly to coerce Lucia into getting an abortion, assuring it was what was best for both of them, Natasha Wren Campbell arrived in the world Jaunary sixth, nineteen-ninety six. 

In order to keep the situation under wraps, her father stopped by once a month to ‘check in’. For Natasha and her mother, these events felt less like visits with family and more like important interviews where their every move was under harsh scrutiny, the check he gave them at the end of his visit enough to make sure they were able to get by, money that assured that his secrets were kept safe. 

Every memory Natasha held of the woman who raised her was a beautiful one, a woman she considered so good and ethereal that it almost made sense that she didn’t get to stay in their world for too long.

When Natasha was just fourteen, her mother began experiencing fatigue and pain too serious to brush off, diagnosed within a week with stage four pancreatic cancer, the illness seemed to arise out of nowhere and progressed rapidly, leaving her unable to work and therefore unable to provide for them. 

Natasha waited desperately for her father’s next visit, asking for help with growing bills and the hopes of finding a better doctor but he refused, deeming such beyond his concern and leaving them with the same check he had in every visit prior. 

With no way to make money to care for her herself or her mother, Natasha turned to the only thing she could think of, thievery. What started as sneaking into restaurants and fancy events in order to steal food soon became grabbing expensive items left sitting on tables, selling them for cash that would keep the lights or the heat on even a month longer. 

Still, within eight months, her mother was gone and Natasha was alone - without a job or a place to go. 

The teenager adapted the only way she knew how, using the same tricks that she had before but this time in order to get into hotels. She used her father’s name and position in order to get their attention and if asked, used the pet name her mother had used for her when asked in order to avoid being caught, Baby. 

Soon, she realized that showing fearlessness and confidence could get her almost anything - whatever hotel she could manage soon became the most lavish she could find and just having a bed to lay in at night became enjoying the high class service and catering offered to her.

One night, while enjoying dinner in the hotel restaurant, she was approached by an arrogant teenage boy who was clearly eager to flaunt the wealth his parents held. Rage flooded her but instead of lashing out, her mind pulled her on a different route. She played into his every word until he was obsessed with her and then she used it, doe eyes and sweet voice pleading for what his money had to offer her for three whole months. His interest - or rather his family’s interest in finance and technology was his ultimate downfall, giving her every bit of information she needed to drain his bank account and disappear.

Natasha quickly became aware of just what kind of power she held and she planned on using it, starting with the man whom she deemed, in some way, responsible for the loss of her mother. 

The teenager arrived on her father’s doorstep and played every bit of the confused and mortified girl finding out that her father had a whole life that she and her mother had been unaware of. It was while his wife asked her to wait upstairs as they fought in the living room that she found his study, making quick work of getting every ounce of information she could in order to ruin him financially later. 

Unexpectedly, however, she found an account that was depositing the same amount that he had been paying out to her and her mother monthly. She followed the lead in hopes to meet her possible half-sibling and found a true family instead. A half-sister, Tali Fox (who reminded her greatly of her own mother) and her mother who all too happily took her in and adopted her as if she had always belonged.

Still, the world of lavish living and conning men whom she felt deserved it had piqued her interest in a way she couldn’t explain and she wasn’t ready to give up. She became a chameleon of sorts; spending nights going out to special venues, catching the eye of a rich male and playing the role of their dream girl - she’d use them for months, allowed them to shower her in precious gifts until she grew bored, draining their accounts and disappearing from their lives.

Six months ago she was arrested in California on multiple charges of larceny, fraud and forgery and had been awaiting a trial that finally began at the end of August and concluded just last week with a unanimous verdict of innocence, due to both a lack of evidence and witnesses. (aka; this little b*tch is good at what she does, no evidence and most dudes won’t even come out to say anything against her because they’re either still in love and/or don’t want to admit they got played by this angel face)

Now that she is out, she has arrived in New York to spend some quality time with her sister and perhaps, lay low for a while. 

Personality

Look, there’s no way to sugarcoat it, this girl is the sugar baby supreme okay? She wants your attention and your love and your money and that’s it. She doesn't feel nothing for you anyway, but she feels even less if you don’t adore her, dammit. 

She’s not a bad person, she’s really not - she pry donates all her clothes to the women’s shelter once she’s worn them even once and donates more than half of the money she steals to charity but like...she’s just very very angry and hurt and thinks all rich men deserve to suffer for being the type of man her father was which like - are you going to tell her she’s wrong? And she’s in too deep now, she just can’t stop. 

A true personality unknown though, tbh? She basically has been playing chameleon for so long, she doesn’t know who she is or how to be? Just adjusts to make you happy. Literally the fakest. 

Also she’s totally pansexual but like...way too focused on scamming men because they’re dumb and shit so like, definitely pry fucks around with females/nonbinaries from time to time but always finds herself going back to the hustle.

Desired Connections

A childhood friend who knew Natasha before the loss of her mother who hasn’t seen her since before that happened?

A childhood friend who’s known Natasha the whole time and maybe worries about her and her mental health?

The child of someone she conned? Honestly give me someone who’s dad Natasha hustled and they either hate her for it or just seriously respect her because they didn’t like him anyway? Or maybe even a sibling or an ex that she conned? 

For males? Past scams? Current scams? Future scams? Let this bitch play you, please. We can decide details as to how long or how serious it got, they could hate her or be secretly still obsessed/in love with her or both at once? Literally anything, okay! If you want someone to fuck up your guy in the past or future - this is your girl!

For females or nonbinaries? Give me someone who was maybe genuinely interested in her? Someone who wanted/tried to have a relationship and she was just like nah and it fucked them up a little bit maybe? Honestly maybe even a female/nonbinary she conned because even though she usually doesn’t, she thought they were an ass and deserved it?  

Someone who perhaps she actually started falling for a little, realized she wasn’t actually scamming them, that she was just chilling and she was like excuse??? And left without even scamming them? Or did just to prove to herself that she didn’t actually care about them? Kslflaks;sa I don’t know, she’s messy as hell, y’all.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 72

Devi and Johnny attend a fancy party. Previous! Next!

--

The Social

           “-it’d be a great opportunity-.”

           “Mom…”

           “-there’ll be lots of people-.”

           “Mom.”

           “-you might even meet a man-.”

           “Mom!”

           Devi buries her face in her hands. During their one year trip through space, she found herself missing her family and resolved to visit them when she returned. Now she’s very much regretting that decision.

           “I’ve told you a million times,” Devi says sternly, “I hate. Going. To parties.”

           “I know, dear,” her mom, Marylyn, replies calmly, “but after your yearlong disappearance, don’t you think it’s time you finally did something with your life?”            Devi groans. She didn’t tell her parents the truth behind her trip- not that they’d believe it- so they think she just went on some kind of pilgrimage. Which actually isn’t that far off.

           “I am gonna do something with my life,” Devi insists, “I’m an artist, remember.”            “But when was the last time you made any money off your art?” Marylyn asks.

           She sputters, offended. “We-it-it-I-I haven’t a chance yet. I just got back two weeks ago. Things will pick up.”

           “Devi,” Marylyn says sternly, “I really wish you could follow your dreams but you need to be realistic. You have bills to pay, groceries to buy. You don’t wanna end up homeless, peddling your paintings on the street, do you?”

           Devi groans with annoyance.

           “Now, at this social, there will be plenty of upper management workers for many high level businesses,” she continues, “if you were to meet them, they could put in a good word for you and you could get a very high paying job.”

           “Great, be a desk jockey,” Devi growls, “I’d rather slit my wrists.”

           “Okay, that’s enough,” Devi’s dad, Roger, finally speaks up. “Marylyn, if she doesn’t want to go to the party, you can’t make her. But, Devi, your mother is right. You need to be more realistic and consider your future.”            Devi looks away, seething with irritation.

           Later that night, she’s lying on the floor of her studio, flipping a paintbrush between her fingers.

           Making a living through her art has always been the plan and it’s always been hard. She’s had moments of weakness but she’s never wanted to give up. And where has it gotten her? The only job she had that involved painting was with NERVE Publishing, and that sure didn’t work out.

           Sighing heavily, she stares at the blank canvas hanging over her. Mocking her with its blankness. Her dad’s words swirl around in her mind. He’s always been so supportive of her. Have things really gotten so bad that even he’s losing hope?

           She sighs again, dropping the paintbrush.

---

           “You want me to what?” Johnny asks incredulously.

           “Don’t make me repeat myself,” Devi groans.

           “A party? Really?”

           “Not a party, a social.”

           “What’s the difference?”

           “It’s fancier,” Tenna remarks, leaning over the arm of his couch.

           Johnny groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why me?”

           “I don’t wanna go alone,” Devi replies, “and I can’t bring Tenna. She’ll stand out too much.”

           “And I won’t?” he scoffs, “people go out of their way to stare at me in restaurants.”

           “You at least know how to be quiet,” she argues.

           “Whaddya mean?” Tenna snorts, “I can be hella quiet.”            They both stare at her incredulously before Devi looks back at Johnny. “Look, just…come with me, please?”

           Johnny groans loudly and immaturely. “What day is it?”

           “Saturday.”

           “That’s in two days!”

           “It’s tomorrow.”

           “Fuck!”

           “What’s all this screaming about?” Cammie asks as she rolls in from the kitchen.

           “Johnny is accompanying Devi to a social,” Tenna replies.

           “Oh, wow, that takes me back,” she snorts, “I had to attend a ton of socials with my parents when I was about your age. Don’t you worry, Devi, I’ll get him cleaned up for it. You won’t even recognize him.”

           “Thanks, Cammie,” Devi smiles weakly, “it starts at 8 so you’ll have to pick me up at 5:30, just to be safe.”            “Ugh, fine,” Johnny groans, folding his arms like a scolded toddler.

           That Saturday evening, Devi does some last minute touch-ups to her makeup in the bathroom. Or she tries to, but her hands are shaking too much. So she just grips the counter in aggravation.

           “This is a bad idea,” she states.

           “Hey, maybe you’ll have fun,” Tenna suggests, leaning against the doorway.

           “Not likely,” Devi grunts as she slips by her.

           Stopping in the living room, she incessantly taps her foot and checks the time. It’s not 5:30 yet but Johnny is always late. She can’t afford to be late to this thing if she wants to make a good first impression.

           She groans and squeezes her arms as she paces around.

           “Look, D, if you don’t wanna go to this thing, then don’t,” Tenna says.

           “No, no, I-I wanna go,” Devi insists, “or…at least I should.”

           “But you’re like super stressed.”            “It’s just because I haven’t been to any kind of social event since before we went to space,” she points out, “I’ll be fine once I’m there…probably.”

           They both perk up at a knock at the door.

           “Ooh, I’ll get it,” Tenna chirps and races over. Devi stays where she is, sighing heavily and hanging her head. She looks up when Tenna exclaims excitedly and steps aside, gesturing dramatically.

           “M’lady, your date,” she says as Johnny walks in. He’s dressed in a three piece black suit and tie with his hair smoothed back. He’d be almost unrecognizable if it wasn’t for his permanent scowl and pouty slouch.

           “Don’t call me that,” he growls and faces Devi. His scowl disappears in a flash when he sees her. Her black hair has been styled to have tight curls at the ends and she’s wearing dark purple lipstick to match her beautiful purple dress with spaghetti straps and a slit up the right side, with black pumps.

           “What?” she grunts, starting to feel a little self-conscious.

           “Nothing,” he says quickly, looking away. “You uh look nice.”

           “Oh. Thanks,” she replies, “uh so do you.”            They both stare at the floor in awkward silence.

           “You two are so cute,” Tenna comments, popping up in between them before pushing them out the door. “Now get out there and have fun, you crazy kids.”

           As they both stumble into the hallway, she slams the door behind them and they look back incredulously.

           “She knows that’s my apartment, right,” Devi grunts.

           They both shrug apathetically and head out.

           After getting into Johnny’s car, they begin the 1-2 hour drive across the city, depending on the traffic which is always bad. They’re mostly quiet and just listen to the radio. But the sound of Devi’s incessant tapping on her arms catches Johnny’s attention, and he eyes her curiously.

           “So why do you wanna go to this thing?” he asks, “doesn’t seem like you.”

           Devi hesitates for a second. “…I just thought I should try meeting some people.”            “But you hate people,” he points out.

           “Yeah,” she sighs, “but it’s…I don’t know. Important, I guess.”

           “Hmm,” Johnny grunts, unconvinced, but drops the subject. For now.

          They arrive at the venue around eight o’clock. It’s in a penthouse of a fancy, expensive hotel. As they pull into the parking lot, Johnny eyes everyone going inside with disgust.

           “Prissy, self-important, sticks-up-their-asses…” he mumbles incessantly.

           “Be nice,” Devi warns, “or at least don’t do anything.”            They exit the car and go into the hotel. Both of them immediately feel out of place in such an expensive looking place, like if they just look at a vase for too long it might crack.

           They walk briskly to the elevator and enter it with two other couples in nice clothing.

           “Are you going to the social too?” one of the women asks.

           “Uh yeah,” Devi replies, smiling awkwardly.

           “I’ve never seen you there before. First time?”

           “Yes.”

           “Oh, you’ll enjoy it. It’s simply lovely. Good food, nice folk.”

           “Th-that’s good,” Devi comments, trying to be polite. Meanwhile Johnny doesn’t even try to mask his scowl.

           The elevator arrives and they exit into a large room. On the far wall is a giant window overlooking the city; the wall to their left has a doorway leading to a big balcony. In the middle of the room is a long table with lots of different kinds of finger foods and punch. And clustered throughout are groupings of rich folk, their chatter mixing into a cacophony of “stock market” and “economy”.

           Directly outside the elevator is a suited man with a notebook who is checking off the names of guests.

           “Hello there,” he says politely as Devi and Johnny approach. “Names please?”

           “Um Devi D,” she replies.

           “Ah yes, your mother said you were coming,” he says and Devi visibly cringes. “And this is?”

           “Uh this is Johnny, my…um…”            “Date?”

           They both rankle at the word but don’t argue and he marks down Johnny’s name.

           “Okay, enjoy the party,” he says and they pass.

           “Hoooookay,” Devi sighs heavily as she looks around. Most everyone is grouped up, like a middle school dance. But there are a few by themselves at the food table. They seem to be scanning the room, like her, but more analytically and less fearfully.

           A rustling by her side breaks Devi’s train of thought and she glares at Johnny as he tugs at his tie.

           “Would you stop that,” she hisses.

           “I hate it,” he whines, “a noose is more comfortable.”

           “Just-.” She smacks his hand away and takes a deep breath. “Just stay here and don’t do anything.”

           He huffs and folds his arms as she walks away to the food table.

           “Be confident,” she tells herself as she approaches a well-dressed man holding a glass of punch.

           “Hello,” she says, waving to him. “I’m Devi.”

          Her skin crawls as he looks her up and down, but she maintains her smile and he smiles back.

           “Hello, Devi,” he says and shakes her hand. “I’m James. It’s a pleasure.”

           “Likewise,” she replies, “so, James, what is it you do?”

           “I am so glad you asked,” he purrs and hands her a business card. “I am CEO of High Rise Banks.”

           “High Rise?” Devi questions as she looks at his card. They were the second biggest bank in the city, before Mussolini banks went under.

           “Yes,” James says proudly, “as you can imagine, our stocks have really risen since Celio Mussolini passed, may he rest in peace.”

           “Uh, he’s not dead,” she points out.

           “Yes, but he might as well be. His reputation is ruined.”

           Devi struggles not to roll her eyes and smiles instead. “That’s really interesting, James. I bet working in such a…lucrative bank is a great opportunity.”

           “It sure is,” he beams, “and a beautiful woman such as yourself would be a great secretary. Why don’t you give me a call sometime and we’ll set up an interview?”

           Devi fights every urge in her body to gut-punch the creep and maintains her smile. “Great. Happy to.”

           “Fantastic,” James purrs before walking away.

            As soon as he’s gone, a heavy sigh heaves through Devi’s body and her smile drops like a ten ton weight. She looks at the business card again. This is good. She probably has a high chance of receiving a job now because of this. It’s good…right?

           A heavy pit grows in her stomach as she stares at the card and she sighs again.

           “What’s that?”

           “Fu-!” she bites her tongue to keep from shouting ‘Fuck!’ as she spins around to Johnny, peeking over her shoulder.

           “I told you to stay put,” she hisses.

           “I saw you talking to that guy and got curious,” Nny shrugs, “I caught most of it. You were really talking out your ass. You don’t care about ‘High End Banks’ or whatever the fuck.”

           “No,” Devi admits as she pockets the card. “But I need a job.”

           “So you wanna work with these pretentious assholes?”

           “It’s not about what I wanna do, it’s about what I have to do,” she states and turns away. “Why don’t you eat some snacks or something and don’t bother me.”

           Johnny watches her walk away, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

           Devi spends about an hour talking to people around the party. She didn’t notice before, but most of them are rich, self-important, pompous, creepy white men, sometimes with pretty women hanging off their shoulders like a trophy. And they’re always happy to talk to another beautiful woman, especially when she keeps smiling at everything they say.

           It really leaves a disgusting taste in Devi’s mouth.

           Johnny watches the whole thing from the table, scrutinizingly observing Devi’s every move. He refuses to interfere, even when a group of women hanging around one older man laugh and insult her like teen girls, and she doesn’t snap back. Not even when another man gets a little too close into her personal space and she doesn’t even step back.

           But Johnny can feel himself at his limit when a third man starts getting too touchy. He takes Devi’s hand and starts rubbing her arm. Johnny spots Devi’s other hand twitching, like she wants to slap him. But she doesn’t.

           As the man reaches her shoulder, Johnny steps in, grabbing his arm and pulling it back.

           “Johnny!” Devi exclaims.

           “Who the-!” the man starts to bark but freezes up when Johnny glares at him. Johnny lets go of his limp arm and leads Devi away, despite her protests.

           “Johnny! Stop! What are you-!” she snaps as he leads her out onto the balcony, letting her go as he closes the door behind them.

           “Why didn’t you punch that guy?” he asks, “I can tell you wanted to.”

           “Of course I fucking wanted to,” she snaps, “I want to punch everyone in there! But I can’t. I’m trying to get these people to like me. And I told you to stop bothering me!”

           “Then why’d you bring me here!”

           She stops, unable to answer.

           Johnny takes a deep breath to calm down. “Look. The only reason I didn’t snap that guy’s arm and disembowel him with the punch ladle is because I know this is important to you. But I’m not just gonna watch you degrade yourself.”

           “What choice do I have?” she asks hopelessly, “nothing has been working out the way I want it to. I need a job if I’m gonna survive and art is just…is not working out.”

           “Have you even tried?” Johnny asks, “we just got back from space like a week ago.”

           “Two weeks.”

           “Whatever.”

           Devi sighs and looks off the balcony silently, rubbing her arms from the chill of the night air.

           “Why are you trying to be this person?” Nny asks, “what happened to the badass Devi who never took anyone’s shit? Who helped sabotage an alien ship? Who kicked my ass?”

           Devi chuckles lightly but quickly grows somber again. “I don’t know. Maybe my parents are in my head but…I just think…maybe I should start acting like an adult.”

           “And who decided this is what being an adult is?” he questions, gesturing to the party. “Granted, I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t have to be this. Right?”

           She doesn’t reply, just looks into the party forlornly.

           Johnny sighs and leans against the railing, folding his arms. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life. If this is what you want, I’ll…I’ll stay out of it.”

           Devi smiles at him gratefully and looks back at the party, then at the city skyline off the balcony. What does she want?            “Right now…” she mumbles, “all I want is to…enjoy this view.”

           Johnny looks at her with surprise before turning to the city. “It is a nice view.”            They stare a second longer when the door opens.

           “Devi, everything okay?” James asks as he walks out.

           “Uh, yeah,” she replies, “everything’s fine.”

           “That’s good,” he says, “so, listen, why don’t you join me at my after party at my house? Some other guests are coming, as well as some friends.”

           “Ah, no, I don’t think so,” Devi says, staring at the floor.

           “Oh, come on,” James insists and steps closer. Johnny’s eyes narrow angrily but he forces himself to stay put. “A pretty girl like you; you’d be the center of attention.”

  ��        James reaches forward and gently brushes his finger against Devi’s cheek, and her patience snapping is nearly audible.

           She slaps James across the face, knocking him off his feet. He’s so in shock, he doesn’t even move; just lies there, rubbing his aching cheek. Johnny is surprised too by her sudden shift, but even more pleased.

           “That’s it. That’s fucking it!” Devi shouts as she leaves the balcony, everyone staring at her with bewilderment. “Fuck this shit! I am sick of trying to live my life everyone else’s way. I’m gonna become a freelance artist even if it kills me!”

           She stomps to the food table, taking out all the business cards she’s earned tonight, tearing them to pieces, and dropping them in the punch bowl.

           “Johnny!” she barks.

           “Coming,” he chimes, stepping over the still shocked James- but not before giving him a quick kick in the gut- and racing after her. They enter the elevator and leave behind a really stunned party.

           They’re quiet as they get into Johnny’s car and drive away. Then Nny asks, “so…what now?”

           Devi takes a couple deep breaths, running her fingers through her hair. “I know where we should go.”

           A little while later, they arrive at the hill where they had their first date, a long time ago. Leaving behind their uncomfortable shoes, as well as Johnny’s tie and coat, they get out and sit on the hood.

           Devi breathes the air deeply before stretching and sighing happily, lying back against the windshield.

           “Fuck,” she breathes, “it feels like…a huge weight was just removed from my shoulders. What a waste of time all that was.”

           “Yeah,” Nny agrees, “still, pretty worth it to see you floor that asshole.”

           “Yeah,” she chuckles.

           They’re quiet for a second as they stare at the stars.

           “Thanks for coming with me,” Devi says.

           “No problem,” Nny replies.

[restingdomface]

So in a fit of brilliance I’ve decided the two posts tagged ‘coffee date au’ are set in the same universe where Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue agree to go on a date (they’re college buddies) but then suddenly they both show up slightly panicked and with a kid each (LXC doesn’t have a mom, and their dad is really agoraphobic since she died, and uncle is teaching a class rn, but NMJ still can’t convince his dad he should get a nanny for the kid and he’s having flashbacks to all the dangerous shit he chewed on as a kid and all the knives A-Sang could get his sticky hands on in their house, he swears he’s babyproofed like ten times now) and now it’s fate. Absolute love at first date and even if they break up they know damn well they’re gonna be sticking together for the sake of giving these kids some ounce of stability in their lives, and it’s actually kinda nice.

Anyways. One day when the kids are like six they meet Meng Yao, currently picking up like two kids from the daycare center (twins, his youngest siblings, now MXY cause he’s not born yet, but he’ll show up later) and they’re calling him brother and he’s fussing over them like a parent and then he looks at LXC and NMJ and they’re all ‘oh no he’s cute’ and invite a very stressed out looking Meng Yao (he has like twice as many classes as any sane person and he’s passing all of them with very high grades but he hasn’t slept in a while) to their weekly cafe date where they go to a nice little cafe off campus and buy a stupid amount of coffee and then spend the day playing with the kids cause LXC and NMJ never got played with as kids either, and MY isn’t really sure how to turn them down (they fukin hawt but also he’s on a scholarship and has basically no money that’s not going to keep the kids fed and clothed and he’s not really willing to spend it on frivolous things like dates) so he reluctantly ends up going, and it’s nice and they’re both basically rich boys who don’t make him pay and the kids make friends.

By the time they meet Jiang Chang and Wei Wuxian, the boys are both 10 and now Meng Yao is juggling two seven year olds and a one year old infant and tbh it’s actually Jin Zixuan who tracks him down when he finds out his father has been apparently dumping his bastard children on his first bastard son and Meng Yao looks TERRIFIED because he’s always been threatened that he’s not allowed to talk to his fathers only legitimate son and that if he does his father will cut off all contact entirely but leave him with the kids. Jin Guangshan has been keeping a tight leash on his finances, paying for his housing and stuff and food for the kids, but even then it’s barely enough and his boyfriends know that any sort of date or fun activity needs to be paid for by them or he can’t go at all because their father is terrible and just wants to abuse a poor kid who just made the mistake of agreeing to give his half siblings a better life.

Anyways. LXC and NMJ aren’t there yet or they likely would have threatened (lol LXC can’t threaten, he might try to deescalate the situation tho) Jin Zixuan, but they’re still not to the cafe yet and Meng Yao was in the middle of giving Mo Xuanyu a bottle and he’s basically stuck there, and he’s tired and the espresso hasn’t kicked in yet and JZX is saying something but MY isn’t paying attention.

Until the cafe doors open and two arguing ten year olds come barreling through, arguing about Pokémon or something and pulling each other’s hair. And JZX just sorta. Sighs.

He turns around to look at the kids with a disapproving frown. ‘A-Cheng, don’t pull A-Ying’s hair. Where did your sister get off to?’

Obviously, their older sister, JZX’s fiancé, was supposed to be keeping an eye on her terrible two, but A-Ying said she found a pretty hair pin in the store down the street and they got bored waiting for her and the shop owner scolded them for touching things, but then A-Cheng said A-Ying was the one touching stuff!! And now they’re arguing and pulling hair again and JZX has to get up and gently lead them both over to the table by the hand, getting them both settled down and asking what they want to drink.

This is so fucking surreal, Meng Yao almost forgets he has a fussy baby in his arms demanding attention until a slobbery little hand smacks him in the face and he goes back to gentle cooing at the little thing while giving him his bottle.

‘Oh! Is that A-Yu? Zi-gege said we were looking for A-Yu today! Can we play with him?’

Meng Yao isn’t sure what to do as the kids devolve from questions into arguing again. The twins are giving them funny looks, and since the boys were lead to the table, have finally abanonded their pretty drawings (they were drawing Yao-gege and also ErGe and DaGe too but they hadn’t gotten around to A-Zhan and A-Sang yet) to come back over to the table with Meng Yao and their new baby brother.

The two terrors stop arguing. A-Ying looks excitable. ‘I’m A-Ying! This is A-Cheng! Who are you?’

The twins look up at Meng Yao nervously, and he smiles at them gently, not knowing what else to do here.

Is Jin Zixuan here to take Xuanyu with him? He really hopes not. He isn’t sure what he and the girls would do to lose their new little brother. Things were tight around the house, just barely getting by with what they had, but Yao couldn’t lose him.

The first little girl, closest to Yao’s hand holding the bottle smiles. ‘I’m A-Ju, and this is my sister, A-Su.’

Su was a confident little one, but she had Yao’s tendency to watch people too critically before attempting to say anything. Ju tended to be more open.

JZX comes back and stands behind the boys after he’s given them a couple sandwiches and milky tea, and just stares at the two girls that he hadn’t realized were with Meng Yao, and his features went from hopeful to dashed quite fast.

The door to the cafe opened up and Meng Yao looked up to see NMJ and LXC coming in with a new woman that he didn’t recognize, but the boys across from him got excited to see immediately, shouting out for their jiejie. Meng Yao just sat back, feeling a little sick, entirely unsure what to do now.

The kids are playing together. A-Zhan is staring at A-Ying in a way that suggests he can’t figure the boy out, and A-Ying won’t stop poking at him like he’s some sort of toy. A-Zhan, for his favor, seems content to let him. A-Sang, as usual, abandoned all of them to draw with the twins.

Admittedly, Meng Yao might have been holding the baby a little bit tight when he finally agreed to go to a private table with JZX, but he hadn’t really calmed down from the request until JZX said NMJ could come with, and it takes a gentle hand putting pressure on his neck until he lets up the tense way he’s holding little Xuanyu at Mingjue’s guidance.

He can’t do this. They can’t do this. He’s had Xuanyu for almost six months now, he’s /bonded/ with the little termite. He’s watched the baby’s first steps, holding onto the couch as he tried to climb up to be with his sisters. He’s cut back on work hours.

Their father suggested he cut back on work all together. That comment had solidified it for Meng Yao in a way that nothing ever did before. Their father wanted him truly captive and reliant on his benevolence.

Zixuan, for his part, looks genuinely sorry. ‘I never came here to worry you. I don’t know what you /think/ I’m here for, but I promise I have only the best intentions, and I don’t want to take Xuanyu away.’

Meng Yao goes even more tense if possible, and his voice is shaking. ‘Don’t... don’t /want/. Do you /intend/?’

Zixuan makes a horrified little noise, shaking his head. ‘No no no, of course not. Not that either I promise.’

Meng Yao nearly sagged in place, tiredly turning the fussing child in his arms so he could gently bounce him, letting Xuanyu hold onto his thumb while Meng Yao forced himself to relax.

Zixuan sounded so desperately sad when he spoke again, and Yao could see tears in his eyes. ‘I’m... I’m so sorry he did this to you. I didn’t even know about the girls till they showed up.’

Meng Yao nodded a little, unsure what to say beyond a shrug. ‘If I had been less young, less naive, maybe I wouldn’t have so eagerly agreed just so he would have a reason to stay in my life. That doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever I have to to keep them.’

Zixuan nodded. ‘Of course, I would never want to do that. Listen, I didn’t know about the girls, or even if you wanted to keep Xuanyu, so I didn’t bring the paperwork with me, but I do know a way to get you out of all of... /this/.’

Meng Yao’s brows furrowed. ‘This?’

Xuanyu nodded slowly. ‘Father still pays for everything for you. Apartment, utilities, bills, all that goes through him. I, as his heir, have access to all those records. It’s supposed to be mother’s job, but she refuses to touch anything that has to do with fathers... illegitimate kids.’

Meng Yao doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who would talk so frankly about all this. It was oddly refreshing. Even NMJ and LXC didn’t want to admit their father had dug him a financial grave and was slowly burying him alive with the kids.

He frowned. ‘I can’t even move in with Mingjue or Xichen because he’s a raging homophobe who thinks I’ll corrupt the kids that he cares so little for he doesn’t even properly give us enough to survive off of.’

Zixuan looked honestly distressed at that. ‘Oh. Fuck that’s worse than I hoped for. I’m so sorry.’

Meng Yao sighed, moving to look out the window. He shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’m /forbidden/ from having a job. It’s just harder with three kids. Mingjue and Xichen have been helping out for years, he just doesn’t know it because he doesn’t realize that banks aren’t the only way to keep track of finances now days.’

Mingjue tolled his eyes, his thumb moving gently against Meng Yao’s neck. ‘It’s like the old man doesn’t even realize PayPal exists.’

Zixuan snorted. ‘He really doesn’t. That takes care of half of what I’m here for. Even if he was giving you enough that you didn’t have to worry about food or bills, I would still be here to give you the access info to an account I set up for you last week. When the papers are signed, the only thing anyone but you will be able to do is put in the money. No one but you can close the account or take anything out.’

Meng Yao looked at him in shock. ‘Why would you do that?’

Zixuan made a stressed out angry noise, nose wrinkling in the same way Yao’s did when he was mad. ‘Because, I’ve seen his finances. What he’s giving you barely counts as pocket change to his bloated rich ass. I could drop a five million on you right now to ask you to move away and never come back and he wouldn’t even /notice/ because that’s how little that amount would be to him. He wouldn’t even realize you four had left until he realized he couldn’t find any of you.’

Meng Yao considered it for a moment. ‘Why /dont/ you do that?’

Zixuan’s expression was pure distaste. ‘Because I don’t have any reason whatsoever to hate any of you. I feel terrible that you made the mistake of being fathers newest whipping dog, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to pity you. You’re in a bad position, and I’m here to help you out of it. But I’m also not going to leave you without financial support. You may want to keep the kids, but these weren’t your mistakes to begin with, and father has been punishing you for years for it.’

Mingjue snorted, sitting back with his arms crossed. ‘You really don’t like your dad, do you kid?’

Zixuan shook his head. ‘Not particularly, no. Other than the bank account, I can convince father to give over full custody of the kids to you. No possible way to get any of them back.’

Meng Yao blinked at his half brother, sitting up straighter again, looking at him in shock. ‘How would you do that?’

Zixuan shrugs. ‘He’s not the only manipulative one in the family. I could get him to panic and drop custody entirely.’

And so that’s the story about how Meng Yao had a coffeeshop romance and also ended up with some kids out of it. Later on he and Mingjue and Xichen all move in together in a huge new house with all the kids and they’re. Happy.

[cubeswhump]

Will Not be a Victim for my character, Blondie.

The neglected Blondie. I need to get back to my Powers Verse too. And the immortal bitches. I have a Sweetie and Michelle story drafted though.

Warnings for mentions of violence, referenced torture, bit of ableism. Pretty tame compared to what I usually write.

The phone rang from her nightstand, and again, and again. Then it started pinging with texts: Terry-Ellen has spoken to me but my own daughter won’t answer her phone.

I’ll be arriving at your house at 6PM.

Blondiw growled and dialled the number. The phone rang only twice before the deep voice came on the other line: “Oh, so you’ve decided to stop ignoring me?”

“Fucking hell, Dad. I’m twenty-three,” Blondie reminded him. “Chill.’

"Language, Melinda,” he scolded lightly. “I don’t care of you’re eighty-three. You’re still my daughter and we just got you back. I need to be sure that you’re okay.”

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Are you really?"

Blondie pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't call him a nosy twat, don't call your dad a nosy twat. She breathed out. "You hired a fucking bodyguard for me. "That's humiliating enough, and now you're prying into my life like I'm a child."

"Language. Good lord, you take after your mother," he sighed. "Who are you embarrassed in front of? You haven't left your house in more than two weeks." His voice was so even and annoyingly calm. Blondie swallowed back the snarl crawling up her throat. "Is it really prying to be concerned about my daughter? I just want to know that you're okay. I haven't seen you since-"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop by tomorrow. No need to stop by." She knew her father would have some words if she saw the state her house was in. Tej wasn't hired to clean after the slob, and no one had patched up the hole Blondie punched in the living room.

"Are you sure? If I come over you can stay home and rest," he offered.

"You just got on my ass for staying in my house!"

"You know that is not what happened, Melinda."

"I'll be there at eleven in the morning, okay?"

"I'll expect you by twelve."

Blondie huffed and hung up as he chuckled.

***

Tej was prodding her. "Get up. We've gotta go soon."

Blondie lifted her head abd ahot rhe other wonan a glare. "There's no we. You're staying home."

"You know that's not how it works," she said, unfazed. "I'll make you coffee."

"Don't." Blondie pyr one foot on the floor and grabbed one crutch. The other must have fallen over at some point in the night, and Blondie whacked Tej with the crutch in her hand when the thin woman tried to help her retrieve the fallen one. "Scram, bitch."

"Very nice, " Tej said sarcastically, handing her the crutch anyway. She caught the crutch Blondie swung at her. "Have you ever considered treating the help like people?"

"Go on, call me a bitch. There's nothing in your contract that says you can't insult me, yeah?"

"I'll leave you to get dreased," Tej said dryly. "Your hair looks nice. Did you wash it?"

She shut the door behind her just in time for the television remote to crash into the wood.

Blondie had only worn bath robes and undergarments for the last few weeks and she hadn't gotten to modifying any pants to her new body. Skirts? No, fighting in a skirt wasn't a great idea - if she needed to fight. Fights were always possible.

Shorts. A pair of shorts, one sock, one combat boot. The left bood sat all alone and sad. She kicked it over. Hair in a bun.

"Your coffee, Blondie." Tej shoved the steaming mug right in her face while Blondie was trying to sneak out the front door.

"I told you not to make me coffee," Blondie grumbled.

"Coconut creamer and one Sweet-N-Low," Tej tempted her, voice sing-song.

"I'm getting coffee on the way to my dad's, shithead." And she was out tje door, slamming it behind her - or trying to. Tej caught it just before it closed and slipped out after her.

"Want me to drive? You can relax," Tej offered, reaching for the keyring in Blondie's hand. Blondie jerked it away.

"I'll relax when you're dead. It's my fucking car."

"Cool, cool."

Tej was in the passenger's seat before Blondie had even opened her door so she couldn't even lock her out. Tej smiled at her knowingly. Blondie gripped the steering wheel sp hard her fingers turned white.

Tej tried to make conversation throughout the drive and Blondie turned the volume up a few notches every time she opened her mouth. After a million years, she pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

"I'll get you an iced mocha cappuccino," Blondie said as she got out of the car. Tej was stepping out too.

"Nah, I wanna look at the menu," she replied. Blondie squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, reciting the "calming phrases" from her counseling sessions as a teenager.

When was this place ever this busy? Blondie sighed as she joined the line, Tej at her side. "You know, you're paying for your own shit."

"That's fair," Tej shrugged. "Your daddy pays me weekly."

Blondie sneered at her.

The line inched forward. A woman and her child joined. Seriously, did the entire fucking town want coffee right now?

"Wow..." the woman said, her voice hushed. "What happened?"

Blondie didn't realize the woman was talking to her until she felt a tap on her shoulder.she turned around, finding the woman's wide eyes on her still-bandaged stump. The little girl stared too, reaching for Blondie's crutch. Blondie jerked it away from her sticky hand and scowled, but neither noticed.

"What happened?" the woman asled again. "Why don't you get a prosthetic leg?"

"I pesteres someone with intrusive questions and she pulled out a machete," Blondie snapped. The woman recoiled.

"Ma'am, you're being very insensitive, and you should teach your child not to touch anyone's mobility aids." Tej launched right into a lecture. "Please treat my friend as you would treat-"

Blondie's temper boiled over. She raised one crutch and bashed it into the woman's knee. Tej's hand clamped over her own mouth as the woman fell over with a screech, dragging her daughter down with her.

"Oops. My bad." Blondie turned her back on the pair.

"Did you see that?" the woman cried as she got back to her feet. The cashier looked over from the customer he was dealing with, frowning.

"I'll be out fast," Blondie promised the cashier. "No trouble."

They walked out with their coffees and gluten-filled breakfast, Blondie's coffee spouting steam that smelled of coconut... Something she could have gotten at home. Tej predictably got a mocha cappuccino.

"I mean," Tej finally said during their resumed drive, mouth full of bagel, "not that I blame you much, but public battery isn't a food luck."

Blondie turned the radio up higher.

The guard let them into the gated, cookie cutter community. Towering houses were identical, painted a cream not a shade lighter or darker than the house nextdoor. Perfect gardens, no blade of grass even a centimeter overgrown. One house had flowers a different shade of pink than the rest. Blondie might have struggled to differentiate the houses if Chase weren't waving frantically at the end of one driveway.

"Melinda, love, how are you?" The large man was coming at her with open arms as she stepped out of the car. She was too slow thinking of an excuse to get out of hugging her stepdad, and he squeezed her tight.

"Peachy," she told him.

He hugged Tej too before letting both women into the house. He was talking a mile a minute and Blondie let Tej handle the conversation.

"I see you brought beverages. No tea then?" he asked. Blondie shook her head. "Oliver's in his study."

"Tell him hi for me," Tej chirped, and Blondie decided she would not do that. She hurried away when the other two started discussing how much they lift at the gym.

115 pounds? Unimpressive, Tej.

She didn't bother knocking on the mahogany door, throwing it right open. "Yo."

Oliver swiveled around in his chair like a James Bond villain. He even looked the part with his coiffed grey hair and serious expression. "Good morning, Melinda. You were almost on time. Have a seat."

"Nice to see you too," Blondie said sarcastically, falling back ontp the plump sofa.

"Oh, no, you're covered in crumbs! Why didn't you brush yourself off outside?"

"Just vacuum later. I had a muffin."

Oliver sighed, turning back to his laptop. "Depending on your recovery time, we'll get you fitted for prosthesis." He flicked through images. Some were very realistic and even matching her skin color, others clunky and robotic, some abstract and hardly resembling a limb. "We should find a design that fits your activity level, preferably a more realistic one. No one has to know. At that point we'll get you to that physical therapist I've been talking to, and-"

"Whoa, hold on a minure. Don't I get a say?" Blondie snapped. "And who said I want a realiatic one? Maybe I don't want to pretend I'm fucking normal."

"Whatever you want, darling. But I'm not going to let you hold yourself back."

"You tell me to take it easy abd slow down and then you get on my ass for being behind the curve. The fuck is that?"

Oliver sighed. He turned back tp his daughter, choosing his next words carefully. "I know how much you enjoy your hobbies. I think it'll be better for your mental health if you get back into dance and martial arts soon."

Back into dance. She was already the largest girl in the studio, dwarfing the tiny instructor even when she was twelve. Skilled as she was, she never had a ballerina's body and her instructor's main complaints were her thundering footsteps and "unladylike gait". Well, at least pointe shoes wouldn't hurt a prosthetic leg.

"It's my body and my life," Blondie reminded him.

"And it's my money that pqid your medical bills," he shot back. She rolled her eyes. "Melinda, you know I just want what's best for you. I want to help you. I need to help you."

"Help yourself first," Blondie snarled. "How's your boytoy?"

"I've been married to Chase since you were eight. Stop calling him my boytoy," Oliver sighed. Any other time, Blondie might have laughed at how annoyed her dad got when she mocked his husband. "And fifteen years isn't such a significant age difference when you're out of your twenties."

"He's a gold-digger."

"He's well worth what he costs, and he loves you like his own daughter. Come on, stop changing the subject. You mean so much to me. You were the victim of such a-"

"I'm not a victim," she hissed, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes narrowed. "If anyone's a victim, it's that bitch Camilla. You know, queen of the cabbage patch."

Oliver's eyebrows knit together. "Cabbage patch?"

"Because she's a vegetable," Blondie said, and her father sighed heavily.

"I'm not denying that she's a bad person, but you don't need to be discriminatory. Other, much nicer people live with brain damage."

"Dad, shut the fuck up and listen to me," Blondie demanded. "I fought my way out. I'm not a victim!"

"Yes, yes, you're a survivor," he said in a voice like he was placating a toddler.

"No, I'm Melinda fucking Van Doren."

He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Before anything, you're my daughter and I want what's best for you."

"I actually know what's best for me because I am me."

"I'm your father. I know you pretty damn well."

"Yeah, okay. I'll keep in tough." Blondie started to stand, but Oliver held a hand up.

"Stay for lunch. Samantha made two extra plates."

It still weirded her out that her father had a cook. Her mother missed having servants after the divorce, but Blondie tried her best to keep her home free of employees. And she got stuck with Tej, the most intrusive Van Doren employee.

Chase brought two plates of chicken parmesan to the damn study.

"Workaholic," he said and rolled his eyes, kissing Oliver on the cheek. Blondie rolled her eyes. "Well, I've been having a lovely chat with Miss Tej while you two have been bonding."

Bonding. Sure.

Blondie stabbed into her chicken. She imagined it was the Queen - no, Camilla - that she was stabbing over and over, making sure she never recovered. Because she wasn't the Queen's victim.

She was Melinda "Blondie" Van Doren. She was a fucking hero and people would know that soon.

[the-healingprocess]

taking care of my caretakers

the flashbacks of my old friend’s suicide attempts force me to reflect on my childhood. mostly how it shaped the person I am, really. it is painfully obvious that I am an empath. 

I try to explain being an empath to people and sound nuts, but I guess this sums it up: 

The term empath comes from empathy, which is the ability to understand the experiences and feelings of others outside of your own perspective. You take things a step further. You actually sense and feel emotions as if they’re part of your own experience. In other words, someone else’s pain and happiness become your pain and happiness.

thats exactly it. I absorb someone else’s emotions as if they were my own experience. I understand and feel so deeply. I'm genuinely there with whoever is hurting or experiencing that emotion. I've always been like this. 

looking back on my life as a kid, I really didn’t get to be a kid. my younger sister did, though. she was perfect. her life was different. my mother is finally coming to terms with that, but that is a whole different can of worms. maggots, really. 

my mom struggled with mental health. she still does. she had a very hard life growing up, too. her relationship with my father was extremely toxic. they split up pretty early in my life. I was just a young kid but I remember it vividly. at the time, I was pretty close to my dad. he was worried I would let someone else “be my father” but he was my protector, especially when my mom had one of her manic, abusive freak outs. I think it’s bi-polar but she’s in denial. always has been. 

my dad protecting me changed when he moved out. I became bait. my mom immediately started seeing someone else. I assume it was infidelity considering the first time I met him, she had an engagement ring on her finger. there was infidelity on his side, too. they hated each other. my mom hated me because I looked like him as a kid. 

yes, hated me. and made it very clear. 

the years of mentally and emotionally scarring verbal, physical, and emotional abuse I endured from my mom due to her mental health issues is not really the point of this, although it has impacted my life greatly. 

my father being absent, using me to taunt my mother, stealing money from me since I was a child, lying through his teeth, and making it clear he never wanted me in the first place has also impacted my life greatly. he has set the bar extremely low for the qualities I have sought out in men. 

my mom and I have worked hard to heal our relationship, but it has not been easy. it has taken years. I don’t forget anything...I'm not sure if I even forgive. 

my father, on the other hand, I don’t have much emotional capacity for. he does not engage in me really. he told me not too long ago if it were up to him he would’ve “ran for the hills and never had a child.” I fear a man like him.

I fear being with anyone in case they are like him one day. they have made me feel that I am better off alone. maybe undeserving. I'm not sure. 

the point of this was to reflect on the way I had to nurse my mother’s pill addiction throughout the years, especially while she was abusive to me. 

when she was addicted to muscle relaxers, she was also pretty suicidal. she’d get into these blackout rage freak out episodes and tell me all the ways she plans to kill herself. where I could find her if I came home one day and she was gone. overdosed at the motel down the road or hanging from our front tree. 

she said it would be partially my fault. I made her hate her life. she said I disgusted her. this was my father’s fault. she doesn’t remember these things. she wasn’t in the right mind. I wholeheartedly believe that despite being unsure of where I am in the forgiveness process with her. I don’t forgive my father. he launched me into the water to see if I could swim with a shark and left me there. 

he never believed me either. 

the nights I spent for years pulling food out of her mouth when she was too high to swallow so she wouldn’t choke to death. or if she was choking, to save her. having to pretty much drag her up the stairs because she couldn’t walk. helping her throw up. forcing her to drink water. stationing her body in bed with proper pillows so she didn’t aspirate. 

I was just a kid going into my teenage years. 

I used to walk to the park at night and cry after these episodes. 

why was I taking care of my caretaker? I had to grow up so fast. 

I took care of her just for her to abuse me when she was sober. 

I prayed to whatever was up in the universe to push her to get help before it was too late. 

I protected my sister, despite the fact that she never protected me. 

she was diagnosed with anorexia. I helped her with fluids and sugars when she’d pass out in the kitchen or fall down. but when I was being beaten and called names, she just watched and let my mother shower her with love while I was left alone to sulk in pain. 

we hate each other. 

I was never enough. 

over the years, my mother recovered and was properly diagnosed and medicated. with time, she reflected on her actions. she has made steady progress. 

over the years, my father has dealt with several extreme illnesses and has nearly lost his life 7ish times or so. I can’t keep count. watching him on his death bed was mind numbing. begging him to try to take care of himself to stay alive and seeing him refuse to be healthy was exhausting. it still is. 

he does not care. sometimes I wonder if he even cares to see me be successful. I don’t even think he knows how to do anything but talk about himself sometimes. but I'd have to ask my sister since they’re great together, too. 

when I was hospitalized, he yelled at me for having to drive three hours to be with me. I “interrupted his poker tournament.” the flu had gone to my heart and lungs but, how dare I? typical me being useless. 

people say the middle kid is always the least loved or undesired one - like the red headed step child type of shit. that’s exactly it. 

he left me as soon as I got my own room and oxygen on me. he couldn’t miss the chance to win money. 

all he does is fuck me over financially. he has taken money from me since I was a kid. I helped my mom pay our bills since I was 8. I know how much money I have and when it goes missing. when I was hospitalized, despite me being on family health insurance, he managed to put thousands of dollars of hospital bills in my name, lied about paying them, and let me go to collections. he has signed things and put me in collections more than once, all because of lying. my biggest fear is being a financial fuck up like him. I work too hard. these are just some examples of his shadiness. 

he doesn’t call me, ever. I'm too exhausted to be the only one that tries. 

when he does call me, he’s the one high on pills now and can’t even function. he’s addicted but at least he admits it. he needs them to some extent because of all the surgeries, but he eats them like candy and gets them off the streets. he knows I have no tolerance for addiction. I don’t understand it. it ruined my life. 

the shit storm that has been my life has made me terrified to have my own family. the thought of bringing something so fragile into this world and having a broken home or putting it into harms way scares the hell out of me. I would never want my kid to feel even a fraction of the pain I felt growing up. I can’t imagine someone even loving me enough. 

my mom and I are extremely close. we work on communication a lot. she vents to me about her relationship with her mother and I hear my angry, hurt child self in her. my grandma put her through so much pain. my grandma makes it very clear she favorites my mom’s younger sister - she openly says it. they haven’t worked anything out. it kills my mother. her anger and tears - I feel it in my heart. but, that was me for years and years. sometimes it still is and my mom knows it. 

I am trying so hard to change my narrative. I deserve to. 

[illyrianwingspans]

Do No Go Gentle: Donna

Link to song: Donna by the Lumineers

Synopsis: In which Feyre has a business meeting with a potential employer. 

TW: Vague mentions of self-harm and abuse. 

Ao3 Link

Chapter 21: Donna

Rhys

Like fucking clockwork, I woke with the rising sun.

It took less than five minutes to peel out of my sheets and pull some clothes on. Two minutes to down the shot of espresso and munch through an apple in the kitchen. One minute to creep back up the stairs quietly and open that door, just the tiniest slit—

Her figure was slumped to the side, arm dangling off the ledge of the bed. But I could see it, that steady up and down of her chest. Alive. Breathing. Peaceful.

Striking.

It was the only confirmation I needed before peeling back down the stairs and throwing on a pair of sneakers. As the pink clouds began to fade, my feet slammed against the pavement. The sun was still a blip on the horizon, Prythian wiping away the night’s remaining darkness, and with each song drowning out the noise in my ears more cars began to appear on the road as the rest of the city awoke. Soon enough, I was washed in the rays of sunshine. Sweat soaked through my thin long-sleeve, but I didn’t care. I just kept pushing.

It’d been three weeks since I ran. But this morning, I felt wired. Like my mind hadn’t turned off last night in its slumber. How could it? Not after what happened yesterday. Not after what Feyre told me last night.

I’d never felt anything like it before. It was a physical, throbbing ache in my chest, like my heart had truly cleaved in half and spilled all its venomous ichor into my body.

For some reason, it was worse than watching her perched on the ledge of the roof. Knowing that she’d been so miserable, for far longer than I could’ve imagined—

It struck something within me. Like a pianist crescendoing to the climax of a song only to play the wrong chord.

And I had no idea how to help her.

That’s what scared me the most out of all of this—despite my best efforts, Feyre’s condition was beyond my abilities. I’d done all I could out of my own personal experience to try and assuage the difficulties she’d experienced in the last three weeks, but this…

Last night, I felt completely and utterly useless. That was the worst part, I thought, about seeing someone you care about struggle with mental health issues—knowing that there is very little you can do to help. All I had were my words, carefully chosen to goad her into speaking as much as she comfortably would, and gentle enough to tell her that I was there for her, that I would support her. But all I wanted to do, all my instincts roared at me to do, was hold her. Hug her against me. Tell her that I was there, that I cared about her.

Those feelings pounding within my heart flared up again, and my foot faltered on its next step.

I stopped in my tracks. The rap music was still blaring in my ears. I ripped my earphones out, letting them dangle along my neck, and strode over to a nearby bench as I tried to shove some air into my lungs.

Fuck, I thought, I’m so out of shape.

My fingers were already dashing across the screen. Plenty of articles came up after the search, and I scrolled through them, taking screenshots of things that caught my eye. If I didn’t know how to help her, the least I could do was arm myself with some information. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a starting point.

When the steely pincers of anxiety finally unclamped themselves from my fried nerves, I was off again. There were so many other pieces of the story that seemed to root themselves in my mind, no matter how fast or hard I pushed my body, they never seemed to shake away.

I was in a car accident two years ago.

I killed someone.

It couldn’t have been her. No, I refused to hold onto that piece of illogical information my brain was trying to latch itself to. So I blasted my music up higher, and kept running.

***

Feyre

The only thing I knew how to cook was scrambled eggs.

Dad taught me how. When I was in high school, usually Elain made breakfast so I could have something in the mornings, but no one ever made me lunch. I relied on the lunch service the school provided for the ‘less fortunate’—but I couldn’t use it too often. No, if I went there every day, then the school got suspicious and started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. So, once or twice a week I’d go to the Home Ec room and take the cheese sandwich, apple and juice box—it was better than nothing. The counsellor would smile at me, I’d fake a story about sleeping in, missing the bus, anything but the truth that gnawed at the back of my mind.

We didn’t have money. We lived in a shitty two bedroom condo, bought with the remnants of money my dad had after mom died, and could barely pay for weekly groceries. Utilities, other household bills, dad paid when he was sober enough to read. But groceries came out of my pocket and the penance of a salary I earned as an administrative aid at school. It was only an hour or two after school, and it paid alright, but all the money went towards food.

My sisters didn’t bat an eye at the effort. They kept on their usual business, attending college on their scholarships. I sure as hell wasn’t smart enough to get a scholarship, but the financial aid department took one look at my level of income and offered to pay a hefty percentage, while the rest was covered by student loans. I thought I’d have to work those off for years.

Until he came along and paid them without even batting an eye. That, and any other outstanding debt my sisters or father had. And, and—I couldn’t leave out the wondrous house he’d bought on the other side of the city. The one we’d both helped my father move the boxes to, the one Nesta and Elain had definitely never visited after they’d moved out.

I couldn’t help but think about my dad. I wondered what he was doing right now, across the city, by himself. And the first thing that came to my mind was the bottle of whiskey sitting on the floor by his chair. He was always slumped in that chair with a faraway smile on his face. Sometimes I would sit next to him on the second hand couch and we’d watch TV together. Most of the time, I’d take one look at him and storm off to my room to imagine another life where none of it happened. Where mom didn’t die, where we weren’t flat broke, and I wasn’t miserable.

How I’d gone from the two bedroom condo to this townhouse, I didn’t want to think about. All I knew was that I’d never have to go back there again.

Because of him.

The front door opened and closed quietly, shaking me from my thoughts. I focused once again on my eggs, dividing both of them into two plates before setting four slices of bread in the toaster. When the footsteps got closer, I turned and saw Rhys there, sweat dripping down his face, rap musing blaring from his earphones. He hadn’t spotted me yet in the kitchen, his eyes on his phone. From where I stood between the stove and the kitchen island, I had a clear view of his hand reaching down to clutch his t-shirt and pull it over his head in one swift movement, ripping the earphones away as well.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t stare at his chest. Defined and smooth, pure muscle was glistening in the light from the bay windows at the front of the living room. His stomach was hardened, toned yet still soft where the tan skin heaved from his panting. And on his chest, down his biceps—

Tattoos. Beautiful, midnight blue tattoos swirling down his skin in inky swirls, contrasting his tanner colouring. I’d seen them, a peek of them that night at Rita’s, but glancing at them now, I couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship behind such beauty. Art in all forms were difficult to master—but when your canvas was human flesh, it made it all the more impressive.

And on him, it looked breathtaking.

“Something smells burnt,” he smirked at me, wiping the sweat on his face with his t-shirt.

I gasped, jumping out of my stupor as I turned to the toaster. Of course, the four slices staring back at me were black. Burnt to a mother-fucking crisp.

I sighed. Of course out of the two components of this meal, I’d burn the most idiot-proof one. At least I had a reasonable excuse for it standing in the living room.

“Like what you see, darling?” Rhys called as he clambered up the stairs.

“Oh, go jump in the shower. I could smell you from down the block.”

I stared angrily down my plate as I shovelled the eggs into my mouth. The new round of toast was grilling, the toaster on a much lower setting this time, and it popped up by the time Rhys’s footsteps hit the ground level once again. How he’d managed to pull himself together so quickly—tux, gelled hair and shaven face, I had no clue, but I’d be lying to myself if I said he didn’t look immaculate. Nonetheless, I tried my best to ignore his presence after that spout before.

He grinned as he took me in sitting at the counter.

“Don’t give me that look.”

His brows shot up, but that playful, mischievous glint in his eyes remained. “What look?”

“Like a cat just caught a fucking mouse. I have half a mind to dump your breakfast in the garbage.”

“At least it’ll keep that pitiful toast you chucked away from getting lonely.” Nonetheless, he took the four slices from the toaster, deposited two of them on my plate, and dug into his meal perched on the edge of the counter.

“There’s no need to deny that you find me attractive, Feyre. Just try not to ogle me so openly next time. It was very objectifying, to be quite honest.”

My cheeks heated, and I said around my mouthful of buttery bread, “Just when I thought your level self-esteem couldn’t get any higher. You’ll probably be replaying that moment in your mind all day.”

“Got a busy day, darling. Meetings in the morning at the office and a very important lunch date that I simply cannot miss. But I will try to squeeze in some daydreaming.” He pointed at me with his fork, his plate already scraped clean despite starting after me.  “Cassian’s coming by to hang out with you after.”

I rolled my eyes. “A babysitter? Seriously?”

Rhys looked over his shoulder from where he stood perching a travel mug beneath this spout of his Nespresso machine. “Not a babysitter, Feyre. A friend. Some company. Someone other than me to talk to.”

“Sending Cassian is like sending a carbon copy of yourself but with more muscle.”

“Firstly, he misses you and wanted to spend some time together. And secondly, ouch. You ogle me, then you insult me?” He twisted the cap onto his mug and fished his keys out of the dish by the edge of the counter, making his way towards the door.

“I’ll make sure to tell the chef to poison you today at lunch!” I called down the townhouse’s main corridor.

“And I’ll tell Cassian you’ve been dying to try his new CrossFit exercises!”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled to myself nonetheless after the door shut quietly behind him.

As I gathered the dishes to be washed in the sink, my mind wandered to last night. The two of us hunched in that tub speaking quietly to each other, me unveiling the darkest thoughts curled into the back of my mind.

I’d never said those words out loud before. With him, we just ignored that it was there in the first place. Lucien and Ianthe only found out because of that one incident at a charity dinner, when Ianthe picked a dress for me without thinking twice about it, and my scars were on display for anyone who got within five feet of me. I outright refused to show up to the stupid thing, but everyone insisted I made an appearance. Once Tamlin saw why, he made an excuse. Those who asked him—because it was impolite to ask me to my face—believed they were scars from the accident.

We all knew it was a lie. Lucien tried talking about it a few times with me, but I pushed him away. How the hell was I supposed to explain that I got so furious with my own mind that I intentionally hurt myself? Every time I tried, there was this burning sensation within my chest. Shame. Shame and crushing embarrassment.

But last night seemed so…easy. I didn’t know what it was about Rhys. I just always felt the need to tell him the truth. Whether it was because he’d seen me at my worst, or because he seemed to understand me like nobody else ever had. It was so…weird. To have somebody to listen to you after so long spent trapped in the silence.

Weird, and absolutely terrifying.

But there was also that festering guilt, and shame—immense shame, for those few moments when I looked at him in the living room. When I… enjoyed looking at him.

When I enjoyed our quiet dinner together last night.

I shook my head as I scrubbed the plate, the memory dissolving in my mind.

***

After Cassian treated me to a gruelling workout at his gym, I found myself back at the house, showered and prepped for Rhys and I’s lunch. Cassian had lingered downstairs to drive me over because Rhys was still caught up in a meeting.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I wondered as Cassian and I weaved through streets downtown. Today the city was bright, ripe with activity and flurries of people. The air was slowly getting warmer. Soon I wouldn’t have to wear a jacket anymore.

“I’ve worked enough over the past two months to take a day off every now and then. Plus, I don’t think my boss cares too much,” Cassian said with a wink.

True. It was a constant reminder that though these people were his family, he technically pulled rank over them at work, with the investigation. But when they were just together, hanging out, it completely slipped my mind.

“Are the rest of them at the office, then?”

“Azriel’s pretty much stuck to his computer monitoring any possible anomalies in Hybern’s movements. He’s got someone following him just to be safe, but so far nothing much has happened. Amren’s combing through old files and investigations affiliated with him to see if she can catch anything and researching possible loopholes to prevent him from making the sale for that land. ” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mor’s just trying to keep calm in the building and helping Rhys out as much as she can, but things are starting to get a little chaotic.”

“How do you guys do it all?” I asked, eyes trailing upon the buildings, which seemed to get smaller and smaller as we neared the outskirts of the city.

He shrugged and said, “We’re fighting together for something we all believe in. You don’t really need much else.”

I looked over at Cassian, his hands gripping the wheel, his face passive and calm as he slowed the car to a stop before a red light. I said, “It’s nice that you all found each other. That you all have each other.”

“And now you’ve got us as well, Archeron. And we’ve got you.”

My eyes burned as I looked out the window once more.

***

I looked up to the restaurant’s blue sign. Sevenda’s.

No other buildings stood nearby. We were about fifteen minutes out of town, and Cassian had already turned back to Prythian. I was left standing here in the parking lot, clad in my best black knee length dress, staring at a diner.

Before I could take another step, the front door opened, and there was his smiling face.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?”

“We’ll each have your special with some bannock on the side please,” Rhys said without even glancing at the menu. I shifted in the black leather booth, gazing between him and the middle aged, brown skinned woman before us. Her stark black hair was tied back in a braid that fell down past her waist line, nearly catching on the stained apron lining her body.

“It’s been too long, Rhysand. I almost didn’t recognize you when you walked in.” She reached over and ruffled his hair, as though he weren’t the CEO of a major Prythian powerhouse corporation. Her smile was warm and teasing, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

Rhys rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “You’re embarrassing me in front of a business partner, Sevenda.”

“What? She’s not your date?”

My cheeks heated. I took a sip of my water, watching Rhys expectantly, wondering how this entire debacle was going to go.

“A potential employee,” he corrected her smoothly, shooting a glance my way. “Feyre keeps declining my advances, unfortunately.”

“I’ll go on a date with you the day you wear something besides black or navy.” I said, jutting my chin out at the dark suit he wore. He must’ve had hundreds of them in his closet.

“That’s my girl. Don’t be afraid to put this boy in his place, Gods know he needs it.” Sevenda turned towards the kitchen.

“Believe me, she does.” Rhys smirked as our gazes met. His eyes shifted over me appreciatively. “Did I mention you look exquisite today Feyre?”

I replied with an eye roll, “That’s the third time you’ve told me in ten minutes.”

“Just making sure you know how delicious you look in that dress.”

“Do you have any sense of self-control?”

“Of course, but it tends to fade away when a beautiful woman looks at me like that.” He tilted his head towards me and the snarl that lined my lips.

“Be glad I’m not your employee yet, I think I’d have to file a sexual harassment claim.”

“Yet?” Rhys’s eyes glinted.

“Well, if you’d get on with your proposition, I could finally make up my mind.”

He cleared his throat. “Night Industries would like to offer you a temporary full-time position as a secretary for yours truly.” I watched as he carefully took a sip of his water, his eyes trained on me the entire time. “Mor usually does a lot of that work for me, but I need her focus on the Hybern investigation right now, and I’m spread out too thin at the moment to try and look for candidates that I know and trust to do the job well. You have some experience in an office. You’ve worked in a cafe for a year now and you know what working under pressure is like. I need that kind of person right now on my team.”

Just as he opened his mouth again, Sevenda burst from the back of the restaurant with a tray perched on her shoulder holding steaming food. Immediately, a rich, aromatic scent filled the quiet space, and my mouth watered.

Swiftly, as though she’d done this for years, Sevenda slid two plates on the table filled half with rice, half with an orange, creamy stew that made my stomach gargle. She set down two extra plates with what seemed like two round flat buns that were golden and crispy.

“Enjoy!” She chirped after refilling our glasses.

I didn’t hesitate as I took my first mouthful. Creamy, warm, sweet, salty—spicy. Not overly so, but just enough for my mouth to heat. The meat was gamey, and the vegetables tasted glorious in the saturated juices.

“Why is there nobody in this restaurant?” I demanded after swallowing my first bite.

Rhys said, “Well, we’re near the reserve. They mostly only have local regulars and travellers passing through."

I shook my head. “But this is delicious.”

Rhys was beaming. He took one of his flatbreads, bannock I was guessing, and dipped it into the stew. I did so as well, and nearly groaned at the delightful taste.

Rhys said after swallowing, “I’ve been coming here since I was a child. Restaurants like this don’t really exist in Prythian, and I sure as hell don’t know how to cook this well.”

After another bite, I added quietly, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He only watched me with that intent stare of his, then wondered, “What do you think of my proposal?”

My fork paused halfway down to the plate. “My office experience was limited, and most probably completely different from what working with you will be like.” My lips parted to add something else, And I don’t know if I can handle the humiliation of learning simple tasks. Not quite able to meet his gaze, I said instead, “I need to know that you’ll be patient with my learning process.”

“Your first twenty hours of work will be purely training, and should you ever have questions, you never hesitate to ask. We’re a team. We all help each other out.”

“Okay.” I made a gesture in my hand, and he took it as the cue to carry on.

“Your baseline job is mainly answering phone calls and emails, manning the elevator, scheduling appointments and running other errands for me should I need them. I’ll also probably have other projects on the side concerning the Hybern investigation, like the meeting we’ve got set with the Bone Carver, but those are optional. I understand you may be uncomfortable with those.”

He looked up to me for confirmation, but I said nothing. We were both quiet for a few minutes as we ate our meal, and finally Rhys wiped his mouth with a napkin, took a sip of his water, and laid both of his palms flat on the table.

“It’s a nine to five job. It’s not necessarily difficult work, but it’s still good work. Something to get you back on your feet. I’m offering it as temporary, but say the word, and we’ll sign you on for good.” He reached into his leather messenger bag and pulled out a leather portfolio case, then slid it over to me. I tentatively opened it up, eyes darting across the document before me.

“Take the time to read it if you want. It’s legal jargon, but believe me, you’re the last person I’d screw over with fine print bullshit.”

But I wasn’t hearing him, because my eyes had trailed down to the number listed at the top of the second paragraph. It was difficult to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.

150 000$ starting salary.

“I can’t accept that.”

He sighed. “I knew you would say that.”

I’d never seen a sum like that in my life, nevertheless in my name.

“Rhys,” I said, “it’s too much.”

“I am paying you in accordance of your work responsibilities, as well as the confidentiality of the information you’re handling. You’ll have control of files and information that could put me under should anything be leaked or spread to the mainstream media. It’s a lot to expect of someone.”

I couldn’t say anything. I could just stare at that contract, unable to meet the eyes of the man who’d veritably given me a new life. No strings attached.

Just out of the pure kindness of his heart. A friend looking out for a friend.

There was that part of the back of my mind that was blaring, this is a red flag. This is him all over again.

But he never offered me the anything. He never gave me time, or space, or options, or a way out. He dictated our lives. He had it all laid out for the two of us, the way he wanted it, whether I liked it or not.

Rhys was giving me a choice. One that I could deny, and continue living under his roof until Gods-know when I got another job, and feel like a pathetic, miserable leech.

Or I could accept his kindness. I could use this as an opportunity. Maybe not permanent—maybe work that would dress up my CV. A stepping stone.

I didn’t know what was next, what else the universe had in store for me. But I knew that this job came with a team, my friends, and as Cassian told me earlier in that car, a purpose. I was lacking that, these days.

So I finally looked Rhys straight in the eyes and said, “Do you have a pen?”