#and ahes probably going back to rehab or something like it

[real-life-cloud]

:((

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 3)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating, caught masturbating, overall mature themes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

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Derek hesitates outside your bedroom door, then glances at his phone to check the time.

It's late. Too late, probably. He's sure you're asleep, but, well...

He clutches his head as it throbs again, and he can practically feel his heart beating in his ears. Christ. He didn't remember it being this difficult the last time he tried to go sober.

Just as he's finally about to work up the courage to knock on your bedroom door, it swings open.

Suddenly he's face to face with you. His mouth opens to say something, anything, to explain himself, but then he notices what you're wearing.

More accurately, what you're NOT wearing. He looks down at your exposed legs. That baggy t-shirt is leaving little to the imagination, at least below the waist.

"Jesus, Derek!" You jump back and slam the door on him before he can stare too long.

"Learn to fuckin' knock!"

He groans and buries his face in his hands as you mumble to yourself on the other side of the door. He can hear you shuffling around, probably putting on pants.

"I'm... I-I'm... I just wanted..." He stutters, a mixture of shame and arousal fighting in his stomach. Combined with the awful migraine, he feels truly vulnerable in this moment. And he hates it.

"Walk and talk, Danforth." You sigh as you open the door, now sporting a pair of pajama pants. "I need some water."

Derek stumbles as you tug him along downstairs with you, trying to find the right words to say. What could you even do for him? He knew he wasn't going to be able to convince you to give him the vape back, or any of his other drugs for that matter.

Not that he even wanted to try. Derek Danforth wasn't a beggar.

"My head hurts." He finally mumbles, watching from a corner of the kitchen as you make yourself a glass of water.

"You want a Tylenol?"

"I dunno... It just hurts." He winces at the tone of his own voice. God, was he whining? He sounded whiny.

"C'mere." You sigh, setting down your glass of water and making your way over to him.

Derek stiffens as you press the back of your hand to his forehead, looking into his eyes with... concern?

"I'm not sick." He clarifies, pushing your hand away before you can make him blush further. "Just... already feeling the withdrawals."

"Ah. Got it."

There's an awkward silence for a moment, before you finally speak up again.

"So... Tylenol? Or a Gatorade?" You offer, giving him a tired smile.

"Will that make it go away?" He responds, using that damn whiny voice again as he clutches his head.

"There's nothing I can do to make it go away, love. You're just gonna feel like shit for a while until it eventually passes."

Damnit. That isn't exactly what he wanted to hear, even if it was the truth.

"I'm not gonna be able to sleep like this." He grumbles, leaning back against the counter and letting out a soft groan as his head throbs.

"You want some hot tea? Melatonin? Chloroform?"

"I might have to take you up on that last one." Derek lets out an amused huff and drops his hands from his head.

You look tired. Why are you up this late anyways? Are you... struggling with the same thoughts he is? No, that's stupid.

"Okay, but seriously. What do you want?"

Derek finally decides on a hot cup of tea and some Tylenol. He'd save the stronger stuff for later, when it all inevitably got worse.

You send him off to bed again, and this time it's not as hard to fall asleep. He buries his head in a pillow, your smile burned into his brain.

"God damnit, I'm getting soft."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

The next morning, you decide to let Derek sleep in a little. Out of the kindness of your heart. Not because you slept through all your alarms.

You sit on the couch, watching a movie. Well, staring off into space in the general direction of the TV as a movie plays.

It was hard to sleep last night, considering everything that happened with Derek. You went into this expecting a self-absorbed prick with anger issues, and, well... you got that from him, partially.

But he'd also shown you another side of him, the side that was willing to listen. That part of him... wasn't so bad.

You snap out of your stupor when you hear Derek making his way down the stairs.

"Hey, how'd you sleep?"

"Fine..." He grumbles, stumbling over to join you on the couch. He looks exhausted, his hair disheveled and clothing crinkled. Actually, he's dressed rather... plain. A t-shirt and shorts. Are those the clothes his mom picked out for him?

"Your head feel any better?"

"Not really."

Before you can ask anything else, he lies down on the couch and curls up, closing his eyes. He looks like he wants to go back to sleep already.

"You know, my guys back home are gonna be lost without me. I have a business to run." He mumbles, eyes still closed.

"Yeah... I'm aware. I'm sure they'll be fine on their own for a few weeks, no? We informed a few of your higher-ups that you were taking a vacation."

Derek scoffs. "Yeah. A vacation."

"Oh, come on. You are literally in a vacation house."

That makes him open his eyes, if only to glare at you.

"Not by choice. I'm a prisoner in my own home." He shifts so that he's lying on his back, and dramatically drapes an arm over his eyes as he pouts.

"Alright then, inmate Danforth. What would you like for brunch?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek stares down at the bowl of oatmeal in his lap as he sits up on the couch. Peasant food.

He had insisted he wasn't hungry, but you insisted twice as hard that he still needed to eat. With the pounding in his head, he didn't have it in him to argue.

And so, Derek tried a bite of oatmeal for the first time since he was a child.

"How is it?" You ask, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

"It's okay." Truthfully, it was exactly what he'd expected. Mushy and weird. But the fruit you added wasn't too bad.

"What movie is this?" He asks, turning his attention to the television.

"Honestly, don't even know. Wanna pick something else?"

"I doubt we have the same taste in movies." He scoffs, shoveling in another bite of oatmeal.

"Oh? And what do you think I like to watch?"

"I dunno... chick flicks? Rom coms?"

"Oh, yeah. Because that's all women are allowed to enjoy, huh?"

"That's not what I mean. Just... my tastes are probably more... sophisticated than yours when it comes to cinema."

"Oh? And what's your favorite movie?"

"Fight club." He answers, without hesitation.

You immediately burst into a fit of laughter, for reasons completely unknown to him. The fuck is so funny? It's a good movie.

"What? Have you seen it before?" He asks, eyeing you as you try to compose yourself.

"Yes, Derek. I've seen fight club." You wipe a tear from one eye and give him a bemused smile.

Was it really that funny? Derek shifts on the couch, starting to feel self-conscious.

"What's... what's your favorite movie?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Legally blonde."

Before he can speak up, you cut him off.

"That doesn't mean I only like chick flicks."

He closes his mouth. Damnit.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

After a few more minutes of bickering, you and Derek finally settle on a movie.

You lounge back against the couch, one hand on the armrest and one in Derek's hair. You're still not completely sure how he managed to worm his way onto your lap, but whatever.

"Thought you didn't like the idea of just sitting on our asses all day?" You tease, looking down at him as you card your fingers through his soft curls.

"That was before the migraines got this bad." He groans, shifting and rubbing his cheek against your thigh as he lies on your lap. His stubble makes a scratchy sound, but you can't feel it through your pants. Shame.

"It's only day two of sobriety, Derek. Don't be a baby."

He stiffens. Your teasing words seem to cut a little deeper than you intended, and he pushes your hand away from his hair and grumbles.

"You try going sober."

"I already am."

"Then try drugs. And then try going sober."

His grumbling gets a soft laugh out of you. Even though he's irritated with you, he still doesn't make an effort to move from your lap. Poor thing. He probably feels like shit.

"Sorry. I know it's hard." You speak softly, and slide your fingers back into his hair, gently scrunching a handful of his curls.

He doesn't stop you this time, giving in completely and practically melting in your lap as you play with his hair.

If only you knew how "hard" it really was right now.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek spends the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep on your lap, hardly paying attention to the action movie series he convinced you to binge with him.

Your fingers in his hair just feel so right. It takes everything in him not to whimper when you tug on his curls in the perfect spot, or gently drag your nails across his scalp.

Two movies later, you nudge his head off your lap and stand, leaving him to pout on the couch alone.

"Where you going?" He groans, stretching out.

"Come on, love. You can't just sleep all day. Lets get some sunshine."

"You mean go down to the beach again?"

"Mhm. C'mon, go change clothes."

Derek grumbles, but allows you to pull him up off the couch. You were probably right, he needed to get up and do something. That didn't mean he had to admit it, though.

"Fine. But I'm not swimming."

"Of course."

Derek changes into his swimsuit without a fuss, but throws on a shirt this time as well, trying to avoid any... accidents that might occur if you decide to touch all over his back again. Damn woman.

He trudges back downstairs only to see you already waiting for him on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table as you apply sunscreen to them. It's a nice sight, but fuck, he shouldn't stare.

"Need help?" He asks, taking a seat next to you.

"Just with my back."

Derek nods, squirting a generous amount of sunscreen into his hands. As you lean forward and get your legs, he rubs circles into your back, touching you just a bit too long.

Under the guise of wanting to be thorough, he slides his hands up to your shoulders and tucks them under the straps of your swimsuit. He leaves them there, enjoying the feeling of your warm skin.

"Sure you don't need me to get any other places for you, sweetheart?" He teases, leaning a little closer and speaking right next to your ear.

That earns him an elbow to the rib. He winces and dramatically grabs his side, pretending to be knocked back onto the couch.

"Kick a man while he's down, why don't ya." He groans and writhes on the couch in mock pain, which actually makes you chuckle.

"Don't be crass and I won't have to." You try to scold him, but Derek can see the slight smile on your lips. You find him endearing.

"No promises."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

After much coaxing, you finally manage to get Derek to wade waist-deep into the water. He looks extremely unhappy about it, shivering even though it's hardly cold.

He suddenly jumps back, nearly knocking himself over. You reach out and grab his arm to steady him against the crashing waves.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I think I stepped on a fish." He grumbles, face twisted up in disgust as he scans the water in front of his feet.

You can't help but laugh at that.

"Derek..." You choke out, "You did NOT step on a goddamn fish."

He turns away and mumbles something incoherent, his voice drowned out by the waves and wind.

Ah. So it's not just the water he's afraid of, but something about the ocean as well.

"You wanna hold my hand?" You offer, sliding your hand down his arm and lacing your fingers with his before he can even answer.

Derek doesn't say anything, but he gives your hand a tight squeeze and pulls you a little closer.

"I don't get what you see in this. I think I'm getting seasick."

"I think I'm getting Derek-sick."

"That doesn't even make sense."

You use your free hand to splash some water in his face, giggling as he sputters.

"God, that's salty. Fuck you."

He splashes you back, which you of course return, and soon it snowballs into you two nearly drowning each other.

As soon as you let go of Derek's hand to splash him better, he freaks out and scrambles back a few feet until he's only knee deep.

Right. He still isn't used to this. You give him a sheepish smile and join him in the shallower water.

"Wanna just sit for a while?"

"Yeah."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek is feeling a lot better come evening. He hates to admit it, but it did feel nice to sit in the water with you. Even if the sand and seaweed felt icky.

After showering off all the salt and sand, he heads back downstairs to meet you. He doesn't bother changing into his usual eccentric clothing, the day is almost over anyways.

When he meets you in the kitchen, his hair is still damp and he's wearing a plain t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Starting dinner without me?" He teases, leaning against the doorframe and watching you chop something. Garlic, maybe?

"Oh? So you want to help me now?"

"Maybe I just want to make sure you don't mess it up."

"Oh? Like how you messed up that pancake?"

Derek grumbles something incoherent under his breath, using more than a few curses.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't be like that. Wash your hands and I'll let you help."

He complies, washing his hands and moving to eagerly peer over your shoulder.

"What are you making?"

"Spaghetti. Just something quick and easy."

Derek didn't think it was quick and easy. But then again, he had virtually no experience cooking, usually relying on personal chefs and such.

"And what do I do?"

"Here, you can stir." You pour the minced onion and garlic mixture into a pan that's been heating on the stove, and pass him a large metal spoon.

He takes his task very seriously, furrowing his brow as he carefully stirs the mixture around in the pan.

"How long do I have to do this?"

"A few minutes. Then we add in more stuff and you stir longer."

Okay, he could do that. Just stir. Easy.

"Alright."

You do exactly as you say, letting him stir for a few minutes, then dump some ground beef into the pan. Derek makes a face at the raw meat, but continues to stir.

After adding a can of tomato sauce and more seasonings than he can count, you insist its done, and that he can stop stirring. He almost doesn't want to. It's so relaxing, standing over the stove while you whir around him and work on other things.

He's come to enjoy the occasional touches as you brush past, the praises you utter when he listens, and the warmth of it all. Both from the stove, and the feeling of having you near.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek is surprisingly quiet at dinner, you notice. It's not the angry kind of quiet you've come to expect, but a calm quiet. He seems... peaceful.

"You like it, I'm guessing?" You smile as he shovels a rather large bite of noodles into his mouth.

"Mhm." He just gives you a nod, unable to speak.

"You wanna wind down in front of the TV after dinner?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

Later, you settle down on the couch and Derek finds his way back into your lap.

"Someone's getting comfortable." You tease, running your fingers through his hair. It's still damp from his shower.

"Shut up." He grumbles. "I'm just tired."

"Mhm." You hum, staring down and paying more attention to him than the third action movie of the day. He actually looks kind of cute when he isn't dressed in garish clothing and acting like a prick.

The movie isn't even halfway over when he starts to nod off into sleep. It must not be as interesting as he insisted. Or maybe he really is tired.

Either way, he should probably go to bed. You gently shake him awake, noting the small wet spot on your jeans as he sits up. Was he drooling?

"Huh?" He gasps and rubs the sleep from his eyes, a little startled to be woken from such a deep sleep.

"I said you should go to bed, love." You give him a soft smile and he just blinks at you in return, still a little out of it.

"Yeah. Okay."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

For the 2nd night in a row, Derek can't sleep. And for the 2nd night in a row, he blames you.

The only difference tonight is that his thoughts aren't as... innocent. Obviously, he enjoys the way you've been treating him lately. Your soft words and even softer touch have him absolutely melting.

Well, that and the hand wrapped around his aching cock. The hand he so desperately wishes could be yours.

He lies back in bed, boxers at his ankles as he strokes himself. He's waited so long for this. Everything you do drives him crazy, even the most innocent of touches make his blood rush south.

As the pacing of his jerking increases, he can no longer stifle his whimpers. Truly pathetic sounds escape his lips between pants and gasps, and he bucks up into his own hand, pretending it's yours.

God, he can imagine it so well. He closes his eyes and lets your voice fill his ears. In his mind, you sing him praises and whisper words of comfort.

He's close now. In his fantasy, you are too, calling out his name again and again as he thrusts into you.

It sounds so... real. Your voice. His name.

"Derek?"

His eyes snap open, and he lifts his head to look at the bedroom door in front of him. The bedroom door that's opening. Fuck.

He knows he should say something, do something, to stop you from seeing him like this. But he can't. Not when he's so close.

When your eyes lock with him, he immediately squirts hot ropes of cum all over his hand, stomach, and... fuck, a few drops land on his face, too.

You freeze and stare at him for barely half a second, but that's all the time he needs.

He sighs and gently milks out the last few drops as you turn away and slam the door, apologizing over and over. Derek isn't listening. He falls back onto his bed and catches his breath, head fuzzy.

Fuck. What did he just do?

The realization hits as he sits up, watching the cum drip down his chest. His stomach twists into a knot at the thought of facing you after what just happened. This is a new low, even for him.

Well... that's going to be an awkward conversation in the morning.

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Author's note: Sorry this chapter took so long!! I'm trying to stick to 2k - 2.5k words each... but that is obviously not happening LMAO. Expect a new chapter in 2-3 days... Posting longer chapters less frequently just works better for me!

This is dedicated to the anon who asked for a "Derek masturbating chapter". You dirty bastard. (I love you)

P.S feel free to send any requests at all. I plan to make at LEAST three more chapters to this story. <3

Part 4

[mostlyinthemorning]

Okay tumblr, do you want to hear the story of the time I had a live badger under the front seat of my car?

A few of you have heard this story before, but I feel like you might be okay hearing it again.

So.

Mumblety years ago, my first real job after university was working at a wildlife rescue centre. Basically, people would find injured and orphaned wild animals and they’d call us up and we’d nurse them back to health or raise them until they were grown enough to go back to the wild. Most of the time the patients were birds (robins, so many robins) and small mammals, like squirrels, but occasionally we got a more unusual animal.

One day, this baby badger comes in, he's really small, probably about 6 weeks old. 

Super cute, kind of like this:

x

At six weeks old he’s still nursing so we bottle fed him for a few weeks and then eventually, when he started eating solid food like mice, we put him out into an outdoor enclosure. By the end of the summer, he's catching and eating his own food and he's growls super ferociously whenever anyone comes up to the cage.

Ah-ha, we think, we have rehabbed him successfully. He's ready to be released!

The wildlife center isn’t really located in badger habitat, but I was planning to travel to visit my parents, about four hours south, and they lived in the country and had lots of gophers for him to eat. Thus, a plan was born. I would visit my parents, I would take the badger with me, he would be happily released into the wild, and my friend and I would go camping, just to round out the weekend. 

So, my friend (who also works at the wildlife centre) and I happily load our things and our badger into the back of my very small Toyota Tercel. (You see where this is going, I hope.)

My car was like this, but blue.

X

You might notice that this is not a very large car. And you’d be right. 

Badger safely stowed in the back seat, we head south. I think it’s important to mention that the badger is in a plywood crate with a sliding wood door that goes up and down as this will be relevant later on.

Now, it’s a blazingly hot day, probably 35C/95F and my little car doesn't have air conditioning. It is hot. Even with the windows down. And the badger is annoyed. We can tell he’s annoyed by the loud and angry growls coming from the back seat. 

Our plan is to stop about 1.5 hours into the trip to visit a bank and a grocery store. The badger doesn’t care about this plan. He’s still very annoyed.

We pull up to the bank, parking in the shade so the badger won't be toasty in the sun, and we go inside. This is before the days of paying with everything with debit cards so we needed cash. We come back out pretty quickly and open the door of the car and immediately there's a problem. The badger is still growling, but now the growls are coming from under the front seat of my car.

We slam the door closed and try to decide what to do. Because we’re going camping, we aren't really prepared for anything other than opening up the door of the crate and watching the badger run away. We don't have any gloves, or a towel, or even so much as a business card saying that we are allowed to have a live badger in our car. As we're standing there, trying to figure out what to do about our predicament, people keep coming up to us to ask if we've locked our keys in the car. (If only!)

I crack open the door of the car a few times, and the badger growls at me every time. Clearly, he lives under the front seat of the car now. We have to do something. It’s still hot, and now we’re behind schedule and we still have 2.5 hours left to drive. 

A guy in a big oilfield truck pulls into the parking spot beside us. Figuring we don’t have a choice, we accost him as he gets out of his truck and ask if he has any gloves we can borrow. He admits that he does, but, of course, he wants to know why.

We explain.

He absolutely refuses to get involved but he agrees to lend us his gloves. Apparently he doesn’t have any reservations about watching two 20-something young women wrestle a live badger as long as he doesn’t have to do it himself. Gloves secured, we open the door of the car.

The growling gets louder.

It's still coming from under the seat.

Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to stick your hand under the front seat of a Toyota Tercel in order to retrieve a live badger. But there's not much room. 

The other thing you should probably know about badgers is that the scruff of their neck is extremely loose so that they can twist around if a predator grabs them. 

All of this is to say that wrestling a badger out from under the seat of your car is vaguely similar to trying to fish an angry, squirmy cat out from underneath your bed, if the cat had 2 inch claws and the ability to completely rotate in its own skin. In a public parking lot. While trying not to attract a crowd of onlookers. 

Finally, after much swearing, we manage to shove the badger out from under the seat, I grab it and slam it back into its crate. 

Whew, we think. At least we fixed that problem. But everything is okay now. Back to the plan!

It takes about five seconds for us to discover that the badger released himself by sticking his claws under the sliding door and lifting it up.

At this point, you probably won’t be surprised to learn that long with our lack of gloves, we also don't have any tools that we might use to fix the door of the crate. But somehow we manage to wedge the door of the crate shut. 

Whew, we think. At least we fixed that problem. But everything is okay now. Back to the plan!

You might be sensing a theme, and you’d be right. With the hindsight of some years since then, we probably should have turned around. Oh, to be 23 again.

It's still 35 degrees.

The badger is still angry.

We still have 2.5 hours worth of driving ahead of us.

We head out on the highway and the trip gains the soundtrack that I can still hear to this day.

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

We turn up the music. The badger growls louder.

I’m already doing ten over the speed limit. I drive a bit faster. Did I mention that the car doesn’t have air conditioning?

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

Thunk. Scratch, scratch. Thunk.

Our gerry-rigged closure on the crate has failed and the badger is sticking his claws beneath the door and lifting up the door. It’s only going to be seconds before a hot angry badger is loose in the car. We’re fifteen minutes from my parents’ house. 

I pull onto the shoulder of the highway and my friend scrambles into the backseat. Putting all of her weight on the sliding door, she holds it down as the badger scratches furiously. I pull back onto the highway, now I’m going twenty over the limit. 

Fifteen long, hot, and exhausting minutes later, we arrive at my parents’ house. I swear the badger's growls can be heard in Ottawa. Gasping a hello to my mom and dad, we lug the heavy crate with the heavy badger out into the field, wanting to release it as quickly as possible.

The growling gets louder. The crate might be the heaviest thing I’ve carried in my life. Staggering through the field, we finally decide we're far enough away from the house. We lift the door of the crate. The badger dashes for freedom—which is to say that it runs ten feet away and turns to look at us. 

Whew, we think. At least we made it here. But everything is okay now. We did it!

Heaving a sigh of relief, we gather up the crate and turn to go back the way we came. 

The badger follows us.

We walk faster.

The badger chases after us, practically at our heels.

We jump across the creek.

The badger launches itself into the water, swimming after us. 

We stop. The badger comes and sits at our feet like the world’s shortest, widest dog. We look at it. It stares back at us. Maybe the badger just needs a moment to consider its life of freedom. We wait. The badger wanders away. We pick up the crate for a second time and try to walk away. The badger is having none of it. It gallops after us. I pick up the wet badger and tuck it under my arm. This is the happiest it's been all day. Clearly, we are not releasing this badger into the wild.

Now, friends, we have a dilemma. We’re four hours from home, it’s getting late, and whatever we decide to from this point forward is going to involve a slightly damp, half-grown badger made of growls.

Our plan, if you can call it that at this point, was to release the badger and then go camping in a nearby national park. This now seems like a bad idea. But we're four hours from home and we have to do something. 

So. 

We decide to take the badger camping. In a moment of prudence, we forgo the national park and choose a nearby provincial park instead. 

We drive to the park. The badger rides on my friend’s lap. There’s no growling.

We set up our campsite. Thankfully, the campground is nearly empty. While we’re setting up the tent, the badger explores the campsite, amusing himself by digging a few holes and making sure to keep us in sight. It was like having a very short, very growly dog who likes to dig.

I’m sure it won’t surprise you in the least if I say that it’s at this point that we realize we’ve forgotten the matches for the stove. 

The nearest town is twenty minutes away. The badger will have to go back in the crate for the journey. The badger is not a fan of this idea. But we get him back into the crate—something that’s a lot easier now that we know he’s not trying to eat us—and we head for town, accompanied by the now-familiar symphony of growling. 

Now, it's been a bit of a day. So I think I should be forgiven for accidentally going over the speed limit on the way out of the campsite. This is, of course, when I get pulled over. Remember, we don't have a single piece of official wildlife-related ID between us, not even so much as a business card. This was before cell phones so we can’t even phone the wildlife center to vouch for us. We're both convinced that this is it, that we're probably going to jail for wildlife smuggling. And the badger is never getting out of that crate. In the backseat, the badger is growling louder than ever. 

The officer comes up to the car window.

The badger growls.

We hold our breath.

The badger growls even louder. 

The officer proceeds to absolutely ream me out for going twenty over the limit. The badger growls at every word. The officer doesn't even acknowledge the badger. I apologize profusely. I promise to never ever do it again. The officer gives me a warning. The badger growls. I drive away very, very slowly.

The next day we drive home and I can't even remember the details of the trip, I think I've blocked it out, but I’m pretty sure we let the badger had free-run of the car. When we got back to the wildlife center, we learned that badgers don't leave their moms until they're a bit older. We put him back in his cage, and about four months later, he digs his way out. And every now and then for about a year after that, people would come to the wildlife centre and say that an overly-friendly badger had come up to them on our nature trail. 

And this is why I always make sure to carry gloves in my car.

THE END

[universitypenguin]

Chapter 18 - Part II

The Princess & The Lawyer Chapter XVIII - Part II 

Summary: Lloyd is rattled by unexpected news from Elliot that sends him into an emotional spiral and delays his return. Aiden is arrested for a shocking crime and Landon gives a profile of the stalker.

Word Count: 6,670 

Masterlist

Warnings: Physical violence, strangulation, attempted drowning. References to stalking, the U.S. military draft process, war and military service, drug addiction, family estrangement, international adoption, murder, and death.

Author’s Note: I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I was planning to finish it sooner, but I had a virus of some kind for the past week.

Chapter XVIII - Part II 

The engine of the Mercury purred like the big cat it was named after as Lloyd exited I-15 and rolled to a stop at the light. He admired the way the hood gleamed in the afternoon sun. 

“You did a great job on the body work,” Lloyd said.

“Thanks,” Elliot replied. 

Ahead of them, the light was stubbornly red. Lloyd drummed his fingers on the wheel.

“I was shocked how many people showed up to the funeral,” he said. 

“They weren’t there for him, they came for us.” 

“I know. Can you believe Mrs. Wilcox stepped foot in a Catholic church? Do you think she’ll have to repent before the Baptists take her back?”

Elliot laughed. “No, they have a new pastor. He’s not as hardline as the old one.”

“Oh, man. I bet she hates that.”

“She stopped going to church for a month when he took over.” 

Lloyd tried to imagine Mrs. Wilcox without picturing her going to church three times a week and couldn’t quite fill in the picture. The light turned green and he rolled through the intersection. 

“What ticked her off?” 

“The new preacher didn’t condemn drinking alcohol.”

“Ah… that makes sense. The no alcohol thing is one of her favorite rules. Did you notice she only played Baptist hymns during the service? I was sure she’d pick a classic for the finale, like ‘Amazing Grace’ but she went with ‘The Gate Ajar.’”

“She’s probably hoping to draw some converts to the Baptist with better music.” 

“Hey, if the Baptists can drink now, she’s got a fighting chance.” 

Elliot snickered. Lloyd scanned ahead for the turn off to the rehab facility. 

“Did you know Uncle Joe served in the Marines? I didn’t.” 

“Yeah,” Lloyd said. “I knew he’d been in the corps, but only because I found his draft papers in the basement when I was a kid.” 

“Draft papers? He was drafted?”

“His card got pulled in ‘69 and he did two tours. We never talked about it. I knew better than to ask. Eventually, it just sort of faded from my mind because he never brought it up.” 

“Isn’t that weird?” Elliot asked. 

Lloyd shrugged. 

“Do you think that’s why he was… the way he was?” 

The way he was. Lloyd contemplated the phrase. How was Joe? The first word that came to mind was quite simply: mean. The stern demeanor, thirst for vengeance, and his desperate need for control might have had roots in his time overseas. Who knew what effect the brutality of guerrilla warfare would’ve had on Joe as an eighteen year old. Lloyd wondered if his father had been in a similar state of mind as he’d found himself in at that age. Perhaps the simmering rage had been hardened into something more deadly by the explosive violence of those two years in the jungle. 

“I don’t know. Maybe, but no one can know for sure. Even if it did, Joe wouldn’t have admitted it.” 

Lloyd turned in at the rehab facility and parked near the front doors. Elliot checked in with the admissions clerk, who took his luggage and disappeared down the hall, giving them a moment to say goodbye. 

“Were you serious about staying in touch?” Elliot asked.

“Yeah. I haven’t decided about the ranch yet, but we’ll need to coordinate on that when the time comes.”

Elliot stared at him. “Coordinate?”

“Joe left you half the ranch.” 

“Come again?” 

Lloyd clapped his cousin on the shoulder. “I’ll have the lawyer send you a copy of the will, okay? We’re business partners now. That is, unless you’d rather sell.”

Elliot looked dumbstruck. “Uh-huh. Yeah… I don’t know. Do you want to?”

“I haven’t decided. How about we wait six months to make a final determination? It’ll give you time to get back on your feet and I can think things over. But if you need cash now, I can arrange a sale.” 

“We should talk about that… later.” Elliot glanced over his shoulder to the desk, where the nurse was working on her computer. “Hang on a second, will you?”

Lloyd watched as Elliot approached the nurse, then accepted a small green notepad and pen. He scribbled something down and ripped off the page before handing it back to her. 

“Here. Since you were serious about staying in touch, don’t limit yourself to just me, okay?”

Lloyd looked at the paper. There were two unfamiliar addresses written down, one nearby in Park City and the other in Denver. He looked at Elliot. “What’s this?”  

His cousin shoved his hands in his pockets, rolling his shoulders. 

“I know you’ve never gotten in contact, which, you know… uh… speaks for itself… but I think you should have that. Just in case you change your mind.”

Lloyd studied the addresses and then Elliot’s anxious expression. 

“If you’re still angry-” he broke off, sighing. “You can’t blame them for something that was out of their control.”

“Blame who? For what?” Lloyd asked, losing patience as Elliot skirted around the point without explanation.

“Ingrid and Josephine. They’re your family, too.” 

Words died on Lloyd’s tongue, stolen by the impact of the revelation. He re-read the addresses and cemented them into his memory. 

“Will you say something?” Elliot said, annoyed. 

“I thought they were dead.”

“Dead? Why? You couldn’t find them?” Elliot asked.

Lloyd shook his head, “I never looked… because I thought… I figured…”

“Why would you think they were dead?”

“Joe always settled his debts. Always. If she ran away, that meant…”

He couldn’t finish the thought, but saw understanding flash in Elliot’s eyes.

“They’re alive, and they’d be thrilled to hear from you.” 

“Thank you, Elliot.”

They didn’t hug goodbye, just nodded at each other. Then he watched his cousin walk through the double doors that led to a long hallway. Lloyd slid on his sunglasses and headed out to the parking lot. The note in his hand felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He shoved the paper into his wallet and climbed behind the wheel in a daze. He didn’t remember the drive from Salt Lake into Wyoming, but the next thing he knew, he was filling up with gas in Rock Springs. 

He’d planned to drop off the Mercury in Salt Lake and have it shipped to D.C. Lloyd checked his watch and realized that appointment, as well as his flight, had long passed. There were a dozen missed calls on his phone. He wondered why he’d driven east, when he could’ve headed to Park City and seen Josie just as easily. It wasn’t too late to swing down to Denver and look up Ingrid; the stop wouldn’t be too far out of his way. 

What would he say? After all those years of assuming the worst, he'd been wrong. He had to reach out to them and that terrified him. 

They’d want to know why he hadn’t contacted them, why he’d let them go so easily, and ignored their existence for the past twenty years. How could he explain that the risk had outweighed the reward? Denial and avoidance and selfishness had cost him the most important people in his life. He cursed himself for it now and saw the stark truth - he’d given up on his sisters without a shred of factual evidence, leaning on emotional reasoning designed and tailored to protect himself.

He couldn’t explain that, not in his current state of mind, so he turned back onto I-80 and headed home. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You heard footsteps and jerked around so fast you nearly fell off your chair. The unexpected sight of the man behind you stole the breath from your lungs.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” 

“Easy, Princess. It’s just me.” 

Jake raised his arms in mock surrender as you pressed a hand to your racing heart and inhaled through your nose. 

 “Zach let me in,” he explained. 

“Sorry. I’m still on edge from last night. What are you doing here?” 

He grimaced. Your pulse, which had just begun to slow, galloped in response to the expression. 

“Did something happen with the case? To Lloyd? Is he okay?” 

“Nothing happened with the case - as far as I know - and Lloyd… I have no idea. He called me at six-thirty this morning and threatened to rip me apart limb by limb. I’ve been ducking his calls ever since.” 

You frowned. “I’m sorry. I tried to tell him about Aiden last night, but I chickened out at the last minute.” 

Jake quirked an eyebrow. “Well, that explains the phone call. Come on, Diskant is waiting.” 

He led you through the kitchen and dining room, into the living area. 

Zach lounged in the ornate Fauteuil chair on the far side of the room, his right ankle hooked over his left knee. The perfect stillness of his posture belied his casual bearing. The frozen, statue-like demeanor made your heart sink, as your attention shifted to the tall man who rose from the couch to greet you. 

“Good afternoon,” Diskant said, extending his hand.

You greeted him and settled on the loveseat with Jake, directly across from the sofa. 

“I’m sorry to inform you of this, but early this morning, Aiden LeDoux was arrested for attempting to break into your apartment.” 

The words hit you like a trap door opening under your feet. You didn’t know if you should celebrate or shudder. 

“When? How was he caught?”

Diskant glanced at Jake, who shifted nervously beside you. 

“I asked Jake to trail Aiden,” Zach said. 

“Starting when?” you asked.

“Saturday morning,” Jake said. “I’ve been following him all weekend.” 

Diskant spoke. “He found Aiden trying to pick the lock of your apartment door. Jake contacted building security and took video of the act, so we have clear evidence of the attempted break-in.” 

Your arms squeezed around your midsection. “And? Where is he now?” 

“Jail, but we expect him to make bail soon.” 

“Right.” 

Detective Diskant glanced at Jake before meeting your eyes. 

“There’s something else… While investigating the break in attempt, Jake located something unusual. We found a hidden camera in the hallway. It was tucked behind the welcome wreath on your across-the-hall neighbor’s door. The camera was pointed at your apartment and was live-streaming to an unknown IP address.” 

- - -

For the next two hours you reviewed every detail of your case with Diskant. You seized a throw pillow and hugged it to your torso, digging your fingers into its softness for comfort. The detective’s pen scratched on the page as he scribbled in his journal. 

Landon had joined your meeting an hour ago, since his shift tailing Aiden became a moot point when his bail hearing was pushed to Tuesday morning. You felt Landon’s perceptive eyes on you, taking in every detail of your reactions. 

“Remind me what initially caused you to suspect Aiden when you realized you were being stalked?” Diskant asked.

“No one else made sense. Aiden was the only person I’d upset recently, and he’d just gone through a stressful event, losing his job.” 

Diskant frowned. Zach leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“I think we should consider other suspects,” he said.

“What leads you to that conclusion?” Diskant asked.

“Last night, when someone tried to turn us into road kill, Aiden was playing basketball with friends on the other side of town - Jake witnessed it himself. The initial contact from the stalker where he quoted: “Don’t ask who’s there…” that’s a line from Scream, which was released in ’96. In other messages I found more references to horror movies. He quotes Misery and Candyman verbatim in some of the threats. It’s hard to tell if the quotes were deliberate or if the phrases were naturally absorbed into his lexicon. The movies he’s referencing are from the 90s, well before Aiden started watching horror flicks.”

Diskant nodded. You noticed he didn’t take any notes.

Zach sighed and glanced at you, then continued. “The third factor is Aiden’s personality. I made it a point to talk to him a couple times while he was dating Princess. In my opinion, he’s extremely passive aggressive, which isn’t compatible with the increasing level of confrontation we’re seeing from the stalker.”

“What comments did he make that you considered passive aggressive?” Diskant asked.

“He was too good at the art of a backhanded compliment. When I first spoke to him he claimed to appreciate Princess’ independence in one breath and undermined it in the next with, ‘not everyone can handle things on their own, like she tries to.’ There were less specific things too, but overall, he just had a way of taking an innocent sounding statement and giving it a whiff of contempt that set my teeth on edge.” 

Diskant clicked his pen and tucked it in his jacket. “I’ve been mulling over the possibility of other suspects myself. The main problem with that theory is the phone call Yvette received last night. Have you considered that Aiden might be working with a partner?”

Zach raised his chin. “Do you have a line on a potential partner?” 

“Not yet, but putting together the timeline of last night’s events, Aiden called Yvette before going to the park for his basketball game, prior to the hit-and-run attempt. The phone call where he asked if you were home might have been geared towards finding out the exact opposite. I think it’s just as likely that he was trying to find out if you weren’t at home.”

“If he put up a camera in the hallway and saw that no one was coming and going from your apartment, that might explain him contacting Yvette,” Jake said. 

“Once he knew the apartment was unoccupied, he could have sent his partner to distract you with the hit-and-run. We reviewed the security tapes, and it seems that the driver veered away at the last second. I don’t think they were trying to kill you, just frighten and maim.” 

You squeezed the pillow tight.

“Landon, have you finished profiling the suspect?” Zach asked.

“Male, 45 to 55, highly intelligent, strategic, with organized behavioral patterns. Some texts seem pre-scripted and sent on a schedule. There are three main patterns of delivery: rapid fire, cluster attacks with intentional pauses, and a steady trickle.” 

Diskant nodded. “I noticed the intervals, and the scheduled messages. He probably has a full-time job that keeps him occupied from 9 to 5.”

Landon inclined his head. “Agreed. His writing style shows the marks of higher education, which makes me think he works in a white-collar occupation. It would also explain the need for regular hours. The occasions where he’s made contact - the nephew’s birthday party, in the park on Friday night, and then the incident yesterday - they all occurred in the evening.” 

“Consistent with the profile,” Zach said.

“His emotional tone shows that he suppresses enormous amounts of rage. I’m inclined to think he can’t contain it all the time, which would’ve led to court-ordered therapy, probably on a non-voluntary basis.” 

“What about the fact that he hasn’t identified himself in the texts?” Zach asked.

“That’s why I’m not ruling Aiden out yet,” Landon said. “The coyness allows him to feign innocence. He’s being secretive and not taking ownership of his actions. That fits Aiden to a tee. Factoring the technological aspect of the hidden camera Jake found in the hallway, there’s a strong possibility Aiden is involved in the stalking even if he isn’t the driving force behind it.” 

You swallowed hard, disturbed by the description.

“Does the profile ring any bells?” Jake asked.

You shook your head and plucked at the upholstery of the pillow.

“My questions about the stalker’s identity began from the texts as well,” Diskant said. “These messages don’t read like they’re from a romantically obsessed stalker who’s trying to win back their victim’s affection.” 

“The primary motivation behind the messages is clear,” Landon said.

Zach snorted. “Yeah. He’s trying to terrorize her.”

“The person writing the texts is an emotional sadist. They’re motivated by the enjoyment of the hunt and provoking a response.” 

Diskant was nodding before Landon finished speaking. “The movie obsession in the subtext of his messages isn’t based around enjoying the adrenaline rush of fear, like a normal person would. He’s identifying with the antagonists, like Ghostface and Patrick Bateman.” 

“And our current theory is that Aiden is involved with this person?” you asked, fingers clenching in the pillow’s stuffing. 

“It’s one possibility,” Diskant said. “I spoke with Aiden’s father this morning. He mentioned he searched Aiden’s phone for evidence of the messages after you spoke with him. However, after going through his son’s phone, he realized it wasn’t the only device he’d seen Aiden using.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Ledoux reports Aiden has a second phone. He thought it was for work, but he’s seen it several times since Aiden was let go from his employer. His father’s theory is that he wasn’t using his personal device to send the texts.”

Jake leaned in. “Do you have a search warrant for the house yet?”

“We didn’t need one. Mr. LeDoux owns the house, all we needed was his permission. We searched his room from top to bottom and couldn’t find a second phone. A team is searching the rest of the house as we speak.”

“Why is Mr. LeDoux being so cooperative?” Zach asked. “Is it possible he might be Aiden’s partner?”

Your jaw dropped. For a second you were shocked, then horrified. “Mr. LeDoux is too old for the profile and I only met him one time. He has no reason to stalk me!” 

Landon spoke. “I went through Aiden’s publicly available writings when I was analyzing the text messages and compared them. Because of his proximity to the case, I also reviewed Mr. LeDoux’s writing and I doubt either of them authored the messages. But given the information Yvette provided us with, I’m still concerned that Aiden has something to do with the harassment.” 

“When do you plan to interrogate Aiden?” Zach asked.

“I’m not allowing you to speak with the subject,” Diskant said. 

“Why not?” Landon demanded.

“You’re emotionally invested in the case - that’s a recipe for disaster.”

After Diskant left, Zach and Jake headed to the office, while Landon stayed behind as your minder. You retreated to your work station in the conservatory where you stared blankly at your laptop for a few minutes before laying your head down on the desk. 

“Are you okay?” Landon’s voice cut through your misery. 

You glanced back and saw him standing at the threshold between the kitchen and the conservatory, sunlight glinting off his dark brown hair. 

“No. Would you be?” 

“Nope.” He crossed to the table and pulled up a chair, swinging it around to straddle as he folded his arms over the backrest. “Tell me where your head’s at.” 

“Zach and Lloyd might go into overprotective mode. The minute I realized I was being stalked, I was worried about Lloyd’s reaction. After watching Zach’s response to Diskant’s theory…” you shook your head. 

“Zach’s incredibly loyal,” Landon said. 

“That’s why I’m worried!”

“Jake and I will handle them, okay? Bishop already suggested locking Lloyd away before we fill him in. We could always shove Zach in too.” 

“Got a dungeon?” 

Landon snorted. “Not one that will hold them. Listen. This is temporary. The stalking can’t go on forever. It won’t go on forever.” 

“If Lloyd and Zach have their way it will be over quickly and violently. The latter part worries me. I want this resolved but I don’t want them going to jail on my behalf. Just thinking about it makes me sick.” 

Landon’s lips pursed. “Can you think of any reason, other than stalking you, for Aiden to want access to your apartment while you were away?” 

“No. I have no clue.”

“If he planted the camera in the hallway, I’m inclined to think it was placed to make sure you weren’t home. It’s straight out of the intelligence handbook to ensure you’re in and out of a target’s home while they’re gone. Given that Aiden’s father was an FBI agent, he’d know that much about tradecraft.” 

You rubbed your temple. “I don’t understand why he’d do this.” 

“There were no weapons on him when he was arrested. I don’t buy him as your stalker, but the evidence points to his involvement.” 

“It doesn’t make sense. Nothing adds up.”

Landon ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it from its carefully gelled style. “You’re right. And until we get more evidence, it probably won’t. What are you doing in the meantime?”

“Searching for missing persons reports.”

“Okay then. Shall we divide and conquer?” 

The next few hours flew by, filled with research and notes. Daylight slipped away but your eyes remained focused on the screen without pause. You pulled up another report and a moment later, elbowed Landon.

“Hey. Look at this. Li Wei Chapman, age 23, vanished in 1999 from Virginia.”

Landon looked over your shoulder. “Her last known location was at a bible camp her family owned in Fredericksburg.” 

“Is that too far away from Harmony?” 

“It’s only forty minutes by car. The serial killer was most active closer to D.C., but that alone doesn’t exclude this victim. She disappeared on June 14th - right in the middle of his active period.” 

“Look at the notes,” you said, scrolling down. “Her daughter, Zoe Chapman, also went missing on the same day. She was two years old.” 

“If she was his first victim, he might have chosen a location he knew well. Maybe he spent time at the bible camp and was familiar with the terrain,” Landon said. “Fredericksburg has a lot of wooded areas that could be used for cover.” 

“How do you know so much about the geography of Fredericksburg?” you asked.

“It’s on the way to Latimer’s hometown. We use his uncle’s farm for our team reunion every year. This is good. It’s the first mother-daughter abduction we’ve found that matches the details of our victim.” 

“Wait. Marco Latimer? He’s from Virginia?” 

Landon arched a brow. “Yeah. Why?” 

“His accent. I couldn’t quite place it. Where’s he from?”

“Kilmarnock. His accent is Virginia Tidewater, but it’s stronger than most because he grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere.” 

He re-focused his attention on the missing persons report and was about to say something when the doorbell rang. Your head snapped up.

“I’ll get it,” Landon said.

You trailed after him, but stayed out of sight as he opened the door. A woman in her mid-sixties with ash blonde hair worn in a blunt bob waited on the other side. 

“Hello, I’m Judy Lange. I’m looking for Lloyd’s house sitter. Is she here?”

“Yeah.”

Landon motioned you forward. Mrs. Lange’s eyes glinted in recognition when she saw you.

“Here are the pool keys, for Mr. Hansen. I apologize for interrupting your evening, but I promised I’d have them back before he returned,” she said, handing them over.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure he gets them.” 

“Excellent. And if you need anything, we’re just two doors down.”

You thanked her for the keys and when she was gone, placed the keys in the bowl on the foyer table. Realizing how late it was you checked the time and frowned.

“When does Lloyd’s flight land? Shouldn’t we have picked him up already?”

“He’s driving back,” Landon said. 

“What?! All the way across the country?”

“He’s bringing back a car, at least that’s what Zach said.” 

Your heart sank. You’d confessed your love, and now Lloyd was taking his sweet time returning. 

“What’s wrong?” Landon asked.

“I told Lloyd I loved him last night.” 

His eyebrows rose sharply. “Damn. That took guts. Lloyd’s the most emotionally repressed person I’ve ever met.” 

You groaned and sank down on the couch, head in your hands. 

“What was I thinking?!” 

“Maybe your confession wasn’t such a bad thing,” Landon said.

“Why do you say that?” 

“Lloyd is skittish about sharing his emotions, but under the right conditions he’s made progress before.” 

You rubbed your neck. “I’m worried that he might never say it back. If this relationship keeps going, I’m going to need the words, but I don’t know if Lloyd is capable of saying them… ever.” 

“I think the real question here is, how long are you willing to wait to hear him say it?”

“I don’t know. I love him, but I hate the way it feels to be left hanging like this. Either I get over myself and accept his limitations or… we break up.”

“Perhaps there’s a third option,” Landon said.

“What’s the third option?”

“Give it time. Lloyd is capable of changing. Don’t forget that.” 

“What am I going to say to him when he comes home?” you asked, running a hand over your hair. 

“I’d wait and see if he brings it up on his own. But remember - talking about his feelings is his most underdeveloped skillset. If you don’t remember that, you’re going to be hurt when he fumbles the pass.” 

“I can handle fumbling. What I’m worried about is the possibility that he might never try.”

Landon gave you a crooked smile. “Give him a minute to work things out on his own. Lloyd makes his best progress when he can move at his own pace. He’ll test the waters before he dives in. That’s why I think your confession might be a good thing.” 

You groaned. “It wasn’t a good thing. I humiliated myself.”

“Or you made him feel secure. Lloyd’s always taking one step forward and two steps back with emotional processing. If he knows where he stands with you, that might serve as an anchor. He’ll never be one for eloquent declarations of love, but a blind man could see how he treats you. I doubt the words will come easy, but he’ll find his voice when he’s ready.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

It wouldn’t have been accurate to say that Lloyd spent the rest of the drive across the country chewing on the idea of reconnecting with his sisters. Rather, it was the idea that spent the rest of the drive chewing on him. Thoughts of Ingrid and Josie took center stage and refused to let him look away. By the time he was approaching the outskirts of Rockville, he was exhausted and sick of spinning through the same thoughts over and over. 

By the time he parked the Mercury on the tree lined street outside of his townhouse complex, it was approaching midnight, and he felt like a zombie. His back ached and the bruise on his thigh from where Charlene kicked him throbbed. He felt every twinge of sore muscle from the explosion at Holbrook’s stash house as he unloaded his bags. When he stepped inside, the sight of Zach drinking whiskey on his living room sofa took him by surprise. It took a minute before his mind switched on and the details of the conversation on Sunday night came flooding back. 

“Shit,” he hissed.

“How was the drive?” 

“Miserable. I… stuff came up. I didn’t mean to take so long. How is she?”

Zach shrugged.

“I called Jake this morning, but he hung up on me, twice.” Lloyd crossed the living room and reached for the decanter of whiskey to pour himself a glass. 

“Tell me what's going on,” he commanded.

Zach snorted. “Fuck, no. I’m not touching that subject with a ten-foot pole, that’s on Princess. But I’m glad you’re back. Shit’s gotten weird the last few days.” 

“Explain.”

“You look like death warmed over, Lloyd. Go get some sleep. I’ll stay through tomorrow and then I’m clearing out so you and Princess can talk.” 

He felt like death warmed over, too, which led him to climb the stairs without too much protest. Whatever you needed to share would probably go over better if he had a full night’s sleep before hearing it. Lloyd slipped silently into the bedroom and found you curled up on the far side of the bed. He stripped to his boxers and crawled in next to you.

When the mattress dipped, your lashes fluttered. For a moment, you opened your eyes, but they didn’t focus. He eased closer and you reached out to press a hand to his chest. Lloyd took that as a welcoming sign and closed the distance between you. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead and whispered, “I’m home. I missed you.” 

You blinked sleepily, trying to wake up, but failing to cast off the chains of slumber. 

“Lloyd… home…” you slurred the words as you struggled to open your eyes.

“I’m here now,” he murmured, smoothing a hand down your back. You cuddled into his chest with a breathy sigh that made his heart skip a beat. He kissed your hair.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

“S’okay. Glad… you’re back…” 

Lloyd smiled, squeezing you gently as the weight of his worries melted away. You were happy to see him and he was holding you again. Everything would work out. Whatever challenge was lurking around the corner could be dealt with in the morning. As long as he could bask in the feeling of holding the woman he loved for the night, he’d meet the trouble head-on tomorrow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

In the morning, you curled against Lloyd and watched him sleep, enjoying the peaceful expression on his face. You were happy he was home, but dread clawed at the pit of your stomach. The conversation you’d put off was hours away and his reaction loomed large. Sighing, you showered and dressed before making your way downstairs. 

Zach was at the stove, stirring a pan of scrambled eggs.

“Morning Princess,” he said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You forced a smile in return and opened a cabinet to grab plates. As Zach finished cooking, you set two places at the breakfast bar. You ate in silence with the approaching conversation weighing heavily on your mind.

“So, have you decided what to say?”

“Kind of. I’m planning on starting with the reasons behind my decision before I tell him the details.”

“If he explodes, don’t take it too personally. He’s been known to say things in the heat of the moment that he doesn’t mean.” 

“It’s the uncertainty about the stalker’s identity that I’m worried about explaining. This was bad enough when I thought I knew who was behind it. Not knowing makes it even harder.” 

“I’m meeting with Mr. LeDoux this morning. He kept a log of Aiden’s comings and goings for the past week and he’s willing to share it with me.” 

“That’s good.”

“We’ll sort this out, okay? As for Lloyd, just bite the bullet and get it over with. He’ll come around once he calms down,” Zach said, and patted your shoulder.

You tried to take comfort in his words when your phone rang, interrupting your thoughts. Annabeth’s name popped up on the caller ID. You answered on speaker phone.

“Hey Annabeth. I’m here with Zach Hightower. Did you find something?”

“I have good news: you were right. The unidentified victim isn’t Julia’s sister!”

“Really? What did you find out?”

“There was an error in the initial comparison, which probably came about because of insufficient reference material. Julia came from a semi-isolated community that’s lived on an island for generations, her DNA is harder to interpret. With a deeper analysis, it became clear that Julia and the unknown victim weren’t sisters - they’re actually third cousins.”

“So the error was on Julia’s sample?”

“It can be difficult to interpret the genetics of a person with Julia’s background,” Annabeth said. “While China recognizes the Miao as an official minority, there's limited representation of her ethnicity in genetic databases, which is why the crime lab made a mistake.”

“Do you have a match on the unknown victim?” you asked.

“Based on ancestry DNA, the unknown victim is Li Wei Chapman. She was adopted by Frida and Lyle Chapman from Taiwan in 1977 and lived in Fredericksburg, Virginia.”

“Thank you so much, Annabeth. This is a tremendous help.” 

“Glad I could assist. I’ve emailed you the full genetic analysis, but it might take a minute to download. The file is huge.” 

“I can drop it off this afternoon,” Zach said. 

You downloaded and printed the reports for him, but once he was gone, the anxiety returned. To occupy yourself, you returned to the missing persons reports, pulling up everything on Li Wei Chapman. The breakthrough opened up a whole new realm of possibilities - you hardly knew where to begin. An hour ticked by and you were struggling to focus. Lloyd was still asleep. You felt trapped within the four walls of the house. 

It was too quiet. You were bubbling with energy as your mind raced with thoughts of what to say when Lloyd woke up and the possibilities for the investigation now that the unknown victim was identified. You tried to busy yourself by cleaning the kitchen and re-organizing your paperwork, but anxiety was gnawing a hole in your stomach and the attempts to stay occupied only amplified the restlessness. As you paced around the house, your eyes landed on the keys to the pool. They were still on the foyer table where you’d put them last night. 

Weighing the risk, you decided that the pool wasn’t too exposed. It was in a fenced enclosure behind the townhouses, which meant there’d be a row of three story tall brick buildings and a courtyard with an eight foot high wall between you and the nearest street. Locked gates prevented visitors from entering the recreational area behind the townhouses except by passing through a home. Plus, Lloyd’s back gate was only ten feet away from the pool enclosure. 

You found your regular one-piece suit in the front pocket of your suitcase, which you’d stored in Lloyd’s laundry room. After changing, you took the keys and made your way through the backyard, closing the wrought iron gate behind you, and dove into the glistening blue water of the lap pool. The coolness enveloped you, washing away the smothering anxiety that had been simmering all morning. With each stroke down the length of the pool, you felt the stress falling away.

- - -

Hidden in the shadows, a figure watched you splash through the water. 

He’d spent all weekend figuring out where you’d disappeared to. Finding you and Zach at the Emerald Harp on Sunday night had been an incredible stroke of luck. Since then, he’d been waiting for the ex-SEAL to leave so he could approach you alone. His heart pounded with anticipation as he watched, obscured by a neighbor’s arbor. The structure was overflowing with the thriving yellow blossoms of a Carolina Jessamine that offered sufficient cover from the security cameras.

He’d been planning this for months, even before he’d begun messaging you. He’d learned your routines and watched you, waiting for the opportunity to get close enough. Slipping the balaclava over his face he moved through the pool enclosure gate on silent feet, reveling in the rush of being so close to his ultimate goal. 

You swam to the end of the pool, your back to him, unaware of the danger you were in. Wanting to prolong the thrill of being invisible, he stayed out of your line of vision as you swam toward the end of the pool. You reached the wall and surfaced with a gasp, treading water for a moment before reaching for the ladder. Unaware of him, you climbed out and collected your towel from a nearby chair. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins, pulsing through every capillary, and sharpening his senses. He bided his time and relied on the crepe soles of shoes to mask the sound of his footsteps as he drew closer. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Lloyd woke up, feeling well-rested and content. Beside him your spot was empty, and the sheets were cool to the touch. He listened but didn’t hear anyone else moving around in the house. A glance at the clock showed it was past ten-thirty. It surprised him to have slept for so long. Usually he didn’t sleep more than six or seven hours in a single stretch. He showered and brushed his teeth before descending the stairs, looking forward to seeing you. 

As his foot landed on the bottom step, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air.

Adrenaline surged, and without hesitation, he sprinted to the backyard, where the scream had originated. Another scream guided him towards the pool enclosure. He crossed the yard in four strides and didn’t bother opening the garden gate, just leapt over it and pivoted toward the pool enclosure, nearly losing his footing as the loose gravel shifted under his bare feet. 

You were locked in a struggle with a masked figure who had you by the throat. The masked man looked up and saw Lloyd barreling towards him. He threw you down on the concrete and seized a handful of your hair, then shoved your head under the water.

Lloyd charged. He slammed into the assailant and they tumbled across the hot cement, exchanging a barrage of punches and kicks. The masked man was stronger and more competent a fighter than he’d expected. An elbow to the jaw sent Lloyd’s head snapping back, and he cracked the crown of his head on cement. For a second his grip slackened, and the intruder broke free. Lloyd was on his feet in an instant, ready to chase after him, when he saw you unconscious on the ground.

The intruder was already disappearing around the corner into the courtyard. Lloyd knelt and pressed his fingers to your throat, feeling for a pulse. Your skin was ashen and your breathing shallow. Kneeling down, he cradled your head to his chest and stroked your cheek.

“Princess? Wake up… come on, honey…” 

You didn’t stir. His hands trembled as he found his phone in the pocket of his chinos and dialed for an ambulance.

- - - 

He paced in the waiting area, bubbling with tension as the doctors took their sweet time scanning you in radiology, where he hadn’t been allowed to follow. The door opened, and he spun around.

“What happened?” Zach asked.

“Someone tried to drown her in the swimming pool. I got there just in time.”

“You look like you need a bandaid yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Lloyd said. 

“Princess?” 

“A concussion for sure, they’re scanning for other injuries now.”

Worry lined Zach’s face. He crossed his arms and before Lloyd could question him further, the waiting room door opened again to admit Jake and Landon. 

“What happened?” Jake demanded. 

Lloyd gave him the run down and noted that Landon didn’t seem as surprised by the description of events.

“I stopped by your place and spoke to Mrs. Lange,” the dark haired man said. “She gave me a copy of the security tapes from the pool complex. I haven’t had the chance to look at it yet.” 

Jake was already pulling out his laptop. They huddled around the screen and watched as the technical specialist reviewed the footage. The assailant had done a good job of avoiding being captured on his way in, but the frames taken after his fight with Lloyd showed clear images of him fleeing through the courtyard.

“Let me try this,” Jake muttered. 

His fingers flew over the keys as he applied measurements to various objects in the footage, giving the software a frame of reference. The program calculated and analyzed for a minute as he isolated the figure of the assailant. 

Jake read the result and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Shit.”

“What?” Lloyd growled.

“The attacker is only 5 '9, which means Aiden is six inches taller than the man who attacked Princess. It’s possible to make yourself taller, but six inches shorter? There’s no way he’s the assailant. We’ve been looking at the wrong guy all along.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Part XIX

Behind the Scenes: Lloyd’s post-chapter reaction

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Masterlist

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@denisemarieangelina

@before-we-get-started

@buckysteveloki-me

@patzammit

@badassbaker

@meetmeatyourworst

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@thiskindahotkindamusic

@jesgisborne

@charmingprinces

@amiets2

@seitmai

@elle14-blog1

@chaoticsteverogers

@kaleidoscopepov

@fangirl-and-doctor-help

@terry2227

@jesevans

@openup-yourmind

@kandierteveilchen

@adoreyouusugar

@awkwardgiraffe726

@pono-pura-vida

@mysweetlittledesire

@liecastillo

@marantha

@literaturelove  

@babyevansblog 

@lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa

@thegirlnextdoorssister

@ladygrey03

@cynic-spirit

@rosedpetal

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@bambamwolf87

@yiiiikesmish

@calwitch

@peachiestevie

@texmexdarling

@here4thefanfics

@rogersbarber

@spikeluv84

@dear-fifi

@crayongirl-linz

@bigcreatorwombatdreamer

[silli---lilli]

Part 4 - Blind Soap and Wounded Ghost/Soulmates

AO3 whole fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50092006

Johnny has been temporarily blinded, Ghost had a private room to deal with his wounds until Soap gets moved in. Ghost has the mark of a soulmate appear.

TW: Injury

Part3:

“They said you’re well. Leaving soon.” Price sat across from Simon at a small table in the cafeteria on a lower floor of the hospital.

The man had been around, Simon felt guilty for feeling so alone, knowing there was at least one person that cared for him.

“If things stay steady.” He sipped his tea, he looked out the window, and he wished to be back in his room. With Johnny.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Price had half a smile when Simon looked back at him and the accusation wasn’t unkind. And it wasn’t unknowing.

“How could you tell?”

“It’s my job to tell.” He shook his head. “It happened here? You were always a magnet for horrible coincidences.”

“I’ll do you one better.” Simon never looked back at his captain. “He’s back in my room right now. We were bunked together.”

--

Johnny still couldn’t see. Not fully. A bit of light recognition had found him and hope carried him in the form of Simon’s words. That he could see. That the injury to his eyes must not be permanent, must not be a scar. But the science wasn’t perfect and when he was alone he wavered.

And he knew Simon was leaving soon. Simon never said it but he heard the nurses and doctors speaking to him about his future plans. He was healed. He would go home soon, and then to rehab, and then back to work and Johnny would just lay there, by Simon’s window alone.

He’d been a mess of emotion in the days after their bond was revealed. He couldn’t hold it against Simon for keeping it secret, he thought he probably would have done the same. And it gave him great insight into the man he couldn’t yet see.

They spoke a lot. Johnny marveled at how his voice began to sound different with use. How it held a warmth with him that he hadn’t heard when he spoke to others. Johnny knew Simon’s CO had come to visit him that day and that he met him downstairs rather than rub it in Johnny’s face. It made him sad. He would have liked to meet someone else that knew him.

He could hear Simon walking down the hall a long time before he reached the room. His gait wasn’t perfectly even, and especially light from years of covert work, but it was familiar to him. It made him feel safe. His life as he knew it was over but he felt anchored to the other man. He felt a possibility of something more. He turned to face him as he entered, and Simon didn’t bother stopping on his side of the room. He came to Johnny’s, taking his usual place in the chair beside his bed. It had remained empty of visitors, but he took it easily.

“How was it?” He asked.

He swore he heard Simon shrug. “Fine. As to be expected.”

“He has work for you?”

Simon chuckled. Johnny found he’d like to bottle the sound for later. “He won’t tell me anything until I get a medical all clear.” He cleared his throat. “And a psych eval.”

Johnny laid his head back against his pillows. That meant he’d told his Captain about the bond. Anyone who wanted to fight with a soulbond had to be assessed separately, to determine if they could properly focus, if they could continue to make decisions that benefited the team as a whole.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” He breathed. He had managed to ruin Simon’s grand return.

Simon didn’t sigh. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but he stood. Johnny could hear him move closer. Stand at the edge of his bed. “Now why would you apologize for that?”

Johnny shifted, uncomfortable. He could imagine their dynamic if all were well, but he was so weak like that. He wasn’t afraid of Simon, but he felt so much less. “It’s the mark, isn’t it?”

Simon shrugged again, and his hand found Johnny’s arm. Like it had the first night he comforted him. It had become common between them. “Sure, but the mark isn’t your fault, John. It just is what it is.”

Johnny groaned again and pressed his hands to his eyes. He knew it was a bad habit but damnit he wished he could see. “When?”

Simon loosened his grip, running his hand up Johnny’s arm. “When what?”

“When do you leave?”

Simon let go of him, walking toward the window. Making Johnny’s stomach drop against all his preparedness. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you about that.”

Johnny was better, his body healed. The scars he’d left on Simon were no longer loud and achy. And he was amazed by how the man had gone from not wanting to chat to wanting to know everything about him. They’d both found the prospect of a mate to be terrifying, that they were the wrong men and the wrong souls to burden another and the universe had seen that truth as an opportunity. Johnny had learned little of Simon’s past, only that he had been through some truly horrible things, losses, and that he didn’t like being seen.

He supposed that was why they had connected at all. That inhibition was meaningless to eyes that couldn’t see. And he supposed Simon would go back to his life, that Johnny would become one of the marks on his to-do list until he could function. He could imagine the man coming to see him a couple of times a week, smelling like winter and the city and bringing him something he missed from the outside. It didn’t feel like enough.

He cleared his throat. “Okay.”

Simon stayed facing the window. Johnny could hear the path of his voice off the glass and the wall and indirectly to his ears. “I’d like to take you with me.”

Simon knew it was quite a proposition. He had lived alone his entire life, even when sharing his home. Even as a child, with his family, he had been isolated. Ostracized. He liked working with a team, but Johnny was the first person he wanted close. It was under his skin.

He turned and looked at him. He knew Johnny knew he was watching him. He dropped his shoulders, his unseeing eyes widened a bit and Simon felt he might have misjudged things. He was deathly afraid of rejection, but they had only gotten closer. He swallowed. That didn’t change that he was never going to force anything on him. Especially not when he felt so vulnerable.

“Simon, that wouldn’t make any sense.” Johnny sounded like he was trying to be logical.

He turned to face him. “Why’s that?”

“I…” Johnny half-laughed, the forced smile crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. “I’m like a child. I need everything done for me.”

“That’s not true.” Simon said, softly. He knew Johnny was perfectly capable, but he wanted to help him.

“You would have to pick my clothes, make my meals. Anything I needed to go out for, I can’t drive. I can’t walk to the train. I can barely do anything.”

Simon watched him carefully. The wheels in his mind turning, but his shoulders lowered, already defeated. He knew the feeling, he knew what it was like to be less than, to be impatient with yourself and a process you couldn’t rush. But he also knew him to be resilient, he’d noticed that about him in the very beginning, weeks before, and he knew him to be kind and incredibly intelligent. He was the missing broken piece of Simon, he fit his jagged edges perfectly and if Johnny could be his warmth and gentleness and patience, then Simon could be his eyes.

“It’s such a small price, Johnny. You think I can’t handle picking your clothes? Cooking for you?”

“No, I know you can.” Johnny mumbled.

“You could stay here, longer than you need to, alone. Or you could go back up to Glasgow and stay with your family, hours from the doctors you need to see and with no privacy. Or you can stay with me. Here in the city. Close to your appointments and anything else you might need.” Johnny’s eyes just searched, he looked distraught by the idea of any of the options. “You need to be out walking, getting some fresh air. You need space to take care of yourself. You need a bed that fits.” Simon motioned to the hospital bed. Johnny wasn’t as large as Simon but large enough to be uncomfortable. “You need a real meal.”

“I’m aware of what I need.” He turned his face toward Simon. “But I can wait. Until my sight is back. Then we can talk about living arrangements.”

Simon walked closer to him, not touching him. Not begging. Yet. “I don’t think this is good enough for you. I want you with me.”

Johnny laid his head back. “You’re going to leave.”

He shook his head. “Not for a long time. I have months of rehab still, and even then I can tell Price doesn’t want to send me out. Maybe I lead remotely for a while, I don’t know.” Maybe I retire. The thought surprised him and he swallowed.

Johnny would go back to work, too, eventually. He wanted to, anyway. “What if my sight never comes back?”

He was waiting for that. He knew Johnny thought it would be temporary, Simon caring for him. That it must be the reason the older man would ask. But he didn’t need Johnny’s eyes to feel he had all of him.

“What if?”

Johnny ran his bottom lip through his teeth, frustrated. It was what Simon wanted, really. To get his truth out of him however he could. “A soulmate is supposed to provide. It’s not fair.”

“Losing your eyes is unfair, you’re right.” Simon shook his head. “But you provide more to me than I think you realize. And leaving you here would be so wrong of me, Johnny. They don’t care about you. They don’t know what you need.”

“And you care about me?” Johnny didn’t turn his eyes toward Simon, but they were open, searching again.

“Yes.” Simon said quietly. “I know I’m not the most heartfelt person, I’m not used to feeling close to someone, but the feeling is undeniable….to me. If it’s not for you, Johnny, you must know I would never force you to do anything, that’s not what I’m here for–"

Johnny blinked. It was one of the longer strings of words he’d heard out of the man’s mouth. And he understood. The connection was real, he couldn’t deny it anymore than he could deny his own blindness. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was whole truth. Very nearly tangible, like a scar. And he hadn’t meant to make Simon feel like he was being rejected.

He thought of how gentle he had always been, a hardened, broken, stealth killer of a man and somehow Johnny had been born on the wrong side of his walls. The inside. And he knew Simon was protective of him. He knew he cared. Those weren’t things a man like him could fake. But he didn’t want to become a burden. He didn’t want to have to beg for help, for small kindnesses. He’d always been able to care for himself. To figure it out. He couldn’t imagine forcing that wedge between them so early, it would devastate him.

“You’re not forcing anything, Simon. I know that.” He swallowed. “It’s undeniable to me, too, it’s….it’s science. It’s real. And I want it, you don’t have to worry about that but…but you’ll grow tired of me. It might seem sweet now, to have to lead me around like a lost dog, but it will become a burden.”

“Your eyes will come back, Johnny.” Simon touched him, then, emphasizing his words. “You’re no lost dog. I don’t see it that way.”

“They might not.”

“Fine.” Simon shrugged. “I don’t want to be seen anyway.”

Johnny laid a hand over Simon’s where it rested in its usual place on his arm. His cast was off, his wrist healed, but Simon was still careful with him. “I’d like to see you. I hate that I can’t.”

“You see more than most.” Simon breathed. A painful admission, he could no longer hide.

“Maybe we make it a trial period. Give it a week. See if it’s something you can stand.”

“I think you underestimate my tolerance.” Simon spoke so softly. Johnny wanted to go home with him. He wanted to lie beside him for real. Feel more of him.

It wasn’t something they’d spoken about. Being physical. Neither of them needed it, he supposed, they were cemented in place, that could come when it felt natural. If it did. Plenty of soulmates remained platonic, though it wasn’t something he could imagine.

The thought made him realize they had plenty to talk about. They needed to be alone and he didn’t have much desire to wait.

“I don’t want you just to tolerate me.”

“Trust me, Johnny. I won’t be. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, believe me. And I don’t pity you. I just want you there. I’d like to sit somewhere comfortable together. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

The last words were like an afterthought but Johnny wanted the same thing. He reached for Simon’s face. Also not an uncommon gesture between them. It was affectionate but it also gave him an idea of who stood beside him. His strong jaw and soft lips and long lashes. “I’m going to talk to your doctors today. I’m supposed to be discharged at the end of the week. I need to go home and make sure it’s livable. And then I’m coming to get you.”

[hils79]

Hils Watches Only Friends - Ep 10

I don't think you get to judge given the way you've been acting over the past few weeks

Yeah, that's what most addicts say

Well you'll still be alive for a start

Wait they kissed??? Was that the night Nick said goodbye to Boston?

Conference room desk sex!

OOH YOU LIAR!! And no one is going to believe Boston because that's exactly the sort of thing he would do

Wait why is Boeing suddenly being a dick and trying to piss Mew off? They seemed friendly when they all had dinner together

Oh no the accidental liking of a post while stalking someone on Instagram

Is he...flirting? Via a mutual love of plants?

None of your fucking business

Of course he's being all sentimental and trying to win Nick back now that Nick has finally moved on.

Do you, though?

Ah, there it is

Wait, is this a test?

Mew is like 'wtf is happening right now'

BRO DON'T DO IT!

Someone finally listened to me!

Oh no did Sand push Ray into going to rehab because Ray's dad paid him to?

Devastating, honestly.

Okay, now I'm crying too

Honestly the whole Boeing thing feels unnecessary. They could have had the last few episodes just be about Mew and Top learning to forgive and trust each other again. They didn't need to add another dude to complicate things

Okay, so I guess it's not a test

Oh, please, it was hardly a kiss. He shoved you away after like 1 second

Look, I know it sucks that your friends all hate you for something you didn't actually do, but you are still kind of an asshole

EVERYONE IS SAD AND I DON'T LIKE IT

Oh no

I mean it's nice that Ray can be honest with himself but Sand isn't actually there he's just imagining it. His rehab therapist is probably used to this happening to her at least.

[clickerflight]

Joseph: Part 5 - A Friend

Masterlist

Part 4

Had something happen today that made me lose a bit of steam for this story, but we're going to keep trucking. I probably got too caught up in looking for validation with my writing, but I think we'll be okay. I have plans for it and I'm going to keep going, I just might have to take a short break.

Content: Vampire whumpee, human caretaker, hospital setting, panic attack, grief, detailed memories of a character death

..................................................

Joseph enjoyed his music for most of the day, his eyesight coming back enough for him to see the small device where he could search for music and play it. He didn’t recognize the app, but he was glad for the music. 

He was bobbing his head to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ when he smelled someone familiar. He looked over into the hall, waiting until a man came into view. The man that had to be Joshua Muir looked to be of Mexican descent, clean shaven and wearing his hair just long enough he could pull some of it back into a little wolf tail. 

He wasn’t wearing a police uniform, instead wearing well worn jeans and a t-shirt. 

Muir opened his mouth in greeting and Joseph realized he was still wearing his headphones. He pulled them down, the sounds of the hospital greeting him again, but he could focus attention on Muir and it wouldn’t bother him. 

“Hi,” Joseph said, feeling once again safe as Muir sat down in the chair by the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” Muir asked.

Joseph shrugged. “I’m completely regenerated. The nurses said they were going to get some more blood into me overnight and then get me set up to go to a rehab center.”

“Nice. That was pretty quick,” Muir commented. 

Joseph nodded as the situation dawned on him for the first time since waking up. “Oh, stars, you, I….. Sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to ride in the ambulance with me. You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”

Muir laughed. “No, not at all. Well, maybe a little but it wasn’t a problem. You needed someone to be there for you, man. It happens.”

He nodded a little. “Thanks for coming back. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Muir shook his head, a hint of sadness entering his expression as he said, “No, you’re good. I, ah, I moved to the city pretty recently. I don’t have many friends yet outside of some coworkers… but I guess we don’t really hang outside of work. This is…. Kind of nice, actually.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, surprised. “Alright then.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Muir asked, “So, got any questions? 3 years is a lot of time.”

Joseph shrugged. “Haven’t really seen enough to have questions, I guess…. Have the fledgling laws passed?”

“Not yet,” Muir replied, looking slightly annoyed. “Well, parts of it have. People with terminal illnesses can apply to become a fledgling, but the stuff around people with chronic illnesses and terminally ill children got tied up in the courts last year.”

“Well, I guess it’s good there’s been some movement on that,” Joseph said.

“Yeah,” Muir said. “So, what do you like to do?”

“I like reading,” Joseph said with a shrug. “And D- my bondmate was teaching me how to play the piano. I used to work at a tech shop. I guess I was kind of, I dunno, stuck in a rut. Wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my life…..”

“Well, there’s plenty of time to figure it out,” Muir said with a shrug. 

Joseph nodded. “And you? What do you like to do?”

“My job takes up most of my time. I’m working my way up to being a detective. I’ve been a cop for a few years now and I’ve been studying to pass the tests they’ll need me to do. I’m pretty excited. The Chief has been pretty hard on me, which makes me think it’s going well.”

“How’s that?” Joseph asked, curious.

“Well, she’s a tough love kind of lady,” Muir said with a mischievous smile. “She’s been criticizing my work a lot lately, which tells me some big guns are watching me, trying to decide if they should try me out. It’s a bit early in my career for it, but I’ve been proving myself and I think they see it.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, intrigued. “That’s awesome, then! I hope it all works out for you!”

“Of course! And you’ll be the first to know if it does!” Muir said, his grin splitting his face. It drooped and he hesitated. “Er, if you want to be friends, that is. Maybe I can help you figure out what you want to do with your life.”

“Oh yes,” Joseph said eagerly. “I could definitely use a friend.”

“Good,” Muir said with a grin. “I wonder…. I want to talk to the nurses real quick. I’ll be back.”

Muir hopped up and left, the smell of his excitement still hanging in the air. Joseph slipped the headphones back on, not really paying attention to the music as he waited for Muir to come back. 

Muri came back after another 20 minutes, a bag in his hand. Joseph pulled the headphones off and Muir said, “Alright. The nurses said you can check out tonight.”

“Check out? Where am I going? With you?”

“Yup! I had some extra clothes in my car so you can put these on and we can get out of here. I thought you’d probably like to sleep somewhere quiet tonight.”

“Oh, I certainly do,” Joseph said, pushing the blankets off his lap and turning to sit on the edge of the bed as a nurse, the same one who brought him the noise canceling headphones, came to unplug him from the drips. 

Once that was over and the small holes in his skin healed, Joseph stood up, taking the clothes and heading into the bathroom to change. 

The clothing was a bit big on him, but after rolling the top of the pants down inside once they held just fine. He stepped out, shifting the shirt to sit properly on his shoulders before taking the shoes Muir held out for him. 

“We’ll get you some better shoes later,” Muir said with a smile. 

Joseph nodded, grinning. The two walked out, Joseph shuffling a little to keep the shoes on his feet. Muir had already registered his address with the lady at the desk and they were set to go. 

“I think the rehab people will come to meet you around 2 tomorrow? I’ll be at work, but the hospital will let them know to go to my house.”

“Cool,” Joseph said, his shuffling steps feeling strange. They were smoother than he thought they would be, as though there hadn’t been three years and a regeneration in between the last time he walked and now. 

“And then we can get you clothes and stuff tomorrow night,” Muir said as he got into his car. Joseph entered on the passenger’s side and buckled his seat belt, relaxing as heard the familiar sound of a car starting. 

They soon left the hospital parking lot and drove down roads as the sun to the left of them as they hit the highway. Joseph watched the world pass by in awe, the rumble of the car soothing to his fragile mind. 

Maybe he’d be fine. Maybe one day he’d be healed and forget about what happened and he could move on. Maybe when he had something good to do with his life and-

But who would he share it with? His bond with David was empty. It was gnawing on him, crushing his soul and begging to be fed. He had been without a pairbond for three years and his body and mind were beginning to realize it. David was gone and he could still remember feeling his pain through the bond, could still hear his screams. He remembered when the blade had entered David’s heart and killed him. The pain and fear had been unlike anything Joseph had ever felt. His and David’s mingle fear, the pain, David reaching through the bond searching for comfort, searching to be sure Joseph was still okay, and then the knife had come down. 

It was like losing a limb. Crushed in a combine’s mechanics, shattered and torn and shredded and bloodied and violently taken in a moment that could never be changed and never be reversed. The emptiness had consumed Joseph’s mind entirely. Going from all that noise to dead silence where his own fear and pain echoed down and back again through broken links. 

He would never get David back and the pain would last forever. It felt like it would last forever. How was he supposed to deal with it all? How was he meant to survive this?

He grabbed on tightly to whatever was pressed against him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t feel. All he knew were the memories of David’s gargled screams and the broken bond as his sire and bondmate died. 

He knew he would need to pairbond again eventually, and that sent a new wave of sorrow through him. Was it not enough to be on his own? To always remember David and cherish his memory? He was Demijeoa. He would have to pairbond again to heal, but he couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine pairing with anyone after that. 

He pressed his face into soft fabric, sobbing desperately, unable to alleviate the pain. He realized someone was running a hand through his hair, untangling it and running down his back in strokes, and then he recognized the smell. 

He lifted his head to find Miur looking out a window, though Joseph’s stirring brought his attention back down. “Hey, are you back?”

Joseph felt a wave of sorrow and embarrassment so strong it sent him to hiding in Muir’s shoulder again. 

“Hey, man. It’s going to be alright. Promise. Do you want to talk about it?”

“”S not gonna be alright,” he mumbled. “He’s dead.”

He felt Muir tense up, but he didn’t stop rubbing Joseph’s back. “I know, I’m really sorry.”

Joseph let out a shuddering sigh, simply letting Muir quietly comfort him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You don’t have to. Not right now. Right now, it’s enough to just grieve. I know losing a bondmate is painful, even if I can’t really understand it.”

Joseph nodded before peeling himself away from Muir, scrubbing his face. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Muir asked.

Joseph just nodded so Muir turned off the hazard lights, signaled, and got back on the road. It was dark now, and Joseph was so tired he just laid his head against the window and let the rattle of the road bruise his head repeatedly. 

Joseph was asleep by the time Muir pulled into his driveway. He got out and went to the passenger seat, opening the door quickly and propping up Joseph to keep him from falling on the pavement. The vampire slept like a dead thing as Muir closed the car door with his hip and walked up the steps to the house. 

After some awkward shuffling, he managed to unlock the door and step inside. He walked through the house to his bedroom where he set the vampire on his bed. He coaxed the blankets over him and went back to the front door to lock it. 

After a quick snack and a shower, he got ready for bed and slept on the couch in the living room. 

………………………………………………..

Joseph woke in a comfortable bed wrapped in blankets that smelled enough like Muir to tell him that Muir had given his bed up to Joseph. He sighed, pressing his face into the pillow for a moment before rolling over and out of the bed. 

He poked his head out into the hall, looking around. There was another room set up with a desk and walls lined with cork board, though only one was in use. He soon found the bathroom and cleaned up before going to the living room. 

Muri laid on the couch, bundled in blankets and snoring very softly. Joseph hummed and decided to make breakfast. 

There wasn’t much in the kitchen and he ended up just improvising with some quick oats and eggs, as well as getting some coffee ready. 

He heard Muir wake up and smiled when he heard Muir’s small confused noise when he smelled food. 

He stumbled in, wearing sweatpants and a blanket cape as Joseph turned, scooting a plate of food across the island to him. 

“Got the coffee started a bit late but it should be done in a mo.”

“Thanks,” Muir said, surprised. 

“You're welcome. And no offense, but do you live on oatmeal, eggs, and canned chili?”

“Er, no. I tend to grab food while I’m working,” he said, fishing a fork out of the dishwasher and sitting on one of the stools to eat. 

Joseph rolled his eyes and sat down next to him once the coffee was done. Muir took the coffee eagerly, taking a sip and closing his eyes in delight. They ate in silence for a minute before Muir said, “So I guess this means you want me to buy more food.”

Joseph snorted. “Yes. You’ll end up with kidney stones if you keep eating like you are.”

Muir shook his head and downed his coffee. “Alrighty, then. I’d better go get ready.”

“Kay,” Joseph said, enjoying his breakfast a bit more slowly. 

When Muir came back, he was dressed in his uniform and ready to go. “I left a note on the computer with the password. Feel free to surf the web while I’m gone. Just remember-”

“The meeting at 2:00. I got it,” Joseph said, putting the dishes in the sink while he unloaded the dishwasher. 

“Yup. I might stop by on one of my breaks, but we’ll see.”

“Alright. See ya.”

“Bye.”

The door closed, the key scraped in the lock, and Joseph was alone. 

Joseph stood in the kitchen, his heart pounding in his throat as the silence pressed in on him. Silence like silver. 

He shook his head. He was not interested in having another breakdown today. Not right now. He was going to hold it together and if he needed to cry himself to sleep that night, then by the stars he would cry himself to sleep. 

He rifled through the kitchen, putting things away as he went along until he’d taken care of the dishes. He loaded the new ones into the dishwasher and closed it. 

He supposed the next thing he could do would be to catch up on what he’d missed. 

He went to the room with the cork board walls, glancing at the images and notes tacked there. It was a missing person’s case about a little girl. He hummed, looking at the little girl’s face. Did anyone look for him and David like this? Did someone in the world string up their names and faces, staring at them in the hopes that it would provide some clue?

Joseph shrugged off the image and sat at the computer, typing in the string of letters and numbers from the sticky note and opening up the search engine. 

He stared at the blinking bar for a moment, uncertain of what he should do before he started pulling up the social media accounts he’d had and opening them up to see what there was to see. 

Joseph: @not-a-space-alien @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

From Dust to Ashes: @writereleaserepeat @currentlyinthespiral

Part 6

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[betweenthings2]

28 & 30 from the cuddle prompts I think would be so wholesome & just 😭

Thank you for the ask!! The list is here if anyone else wants to see it. I do really love these little prompts and I'm working though the other ones in my inbox. They're really staving off the mental breakdown, which is probably for the best.

28. "Oh my God, you're such a cuddle bug." and 30. "Ah, there you go. Safe and sound, hm?"

28.

Matty is quite possibly the most the most cuddly person George has ever shared a bedroom with, not that he's really shared bedrooms with people who aren't Matty. He likes to cuddle to fall asleep, but he has a habit of burrowing further into George's side as he sleeps. It's objectively very cute, but subjectively, George can't say he loves waking up with Matty practically on top of him.

He does it when he's awake, too. George will be sitting somewhere, on the couch, in his desk chair, at the kitchen table drinking coffee, and Matty will crowd himself into George's personal space. Usually, he ends up in George's lap and drinks half of his coffee, smokes half his cigarette or joint, eats half his snack. There is no separation between George and Matty and if there is, Matty is quick to close the gap. It's fine mostly. George has learned how to navigate life with a whole entire other person tucked in his side and he always leaves space for Matty to join him wherever he is.

George is used to the way Matty likes to touch--they've been living in each other's orbits for nearly fifteen years now, been in love for nearly ten, been living together for nearly five. What George didn't anticipate is that Matty could, in fact, get more touchy, more cuddly. Somehow, he does.

When Matty comes home from rehab, he's like Velcro, unwilling to be more than a few feet from George. He's heard of Velcro dogs, now he has a Velcro boyfriend.

George doesn't do anything about it, just assumes that Matty will find his balance eventually and in the meantime he can adjust. He moves from working at his desk to sitting on the couch or bed with his laptop, so Matty can be there, too. He lets Matty convince him to order a lot of takeout and eat on the couch, rather than at the table, and makes peace with lazy, easy days, Matty never more than a few feet away.

George doesn't say anything about it, either. He figures Matty knows and if he says anything Matty will get quiet and distant, which George would hate. No, he just lets Matty do what he's going to do. At least, he doesn't say anything for a few weeks.

One night, though, Matty has strategically curled up with George in an oversized armchair as they watch a film, sharing a joint. The more stoned he gets, the more he melts into George's side until he's, again, halfway on top of George, head tucked under his chin.

And George must be pretty stoned, too, because when Matty mumbles something about being comfortable, he says, "Oh my god, you're such a cuddle bug, you know that?"

"What?"

"You're on top of me," George says, smiling.

"No 'm not," Matty mumbles, not moving.

"Sure, you're not," George agrees, still smiling. He decides to push his luck a bit and continues, "You know how people say a dog is a Velcro dog?"

Matty nods.

"You're a Velcro boyfriend."

Matty shifts so he can meet George's eyes, pouting. "I am not," he protests.

George studies him for a moment, then says, "You're cute."

Matty huffs, but he tucks his head back under George's chin, doing nothing to combat the accusations. Then he says, quietly, "I can move. If you want."

George tightens his arm around Matty's waist. "I don't want. You're good right where you are."

"I just missed you," Matty admits. "Never been away from you for that long. I know I needed to go, I just," he pauses, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," George answers, pressing a kiss to Matty's temple. "I'm glad you're home."

"Me, too, G. Me, too."

----

30.

Matty has been anxious lately. There's no reason really, he just gets that way sometimes. At least, that's what he tells George. It's not like he's lying to George, he really does just get this way sometimes, but there's more to it, Matty knows. It's his brain looking for something bad that's about to happen, something he needs to protect himself from, a product, he therapist says, of years spent with technically legitimate worries. Matty protested, saying that worrying his friends would discover his drug problem or that he was going to deliver Chinese food forever weren't really legitimate worries. His therapist said it was less about what the action source of the anxiety was and more about tracing that anxiety to a legitimate source. She says now, his subconscious is primed for cycles of anxiety and is looking for something to worry about, even if there isn't anything.

Matty hasn't told George this. He ought to, he thinks, but he's not so sure he can articulate it. He settles for chain smoking, pacing back and forth though the living room, one too many glasses of wine, afternoons spent sat in the armchair in the corner of the living room so he can see the whole room. George doesn't ask, bless him, just brings Matty cups of tea to replace the cigarettes and does his best. Matty appreciates it, even though George doesn't really think his best is enough. Matty isn't sure what he'd do without George. This, he hasn't said, even though he knows how to say it. It's more a matter of forcing himself to.

One afternoon, in the midst of Matty's latest spell of anxiety, he comes home from a morning of meetings and errands to join George, who really is actually working, in the living room. He doesn't do more than kick his shoes off before he's making himself at home in George's lap, half desperate. George can tell that of course, can read in the slope of Matty's shoulders, in the way he carries himself as he crosses the room that today is a little worse. He doesn't say anything, just sets his laptop aside and opens his arms for Matty.

Matty shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in the limited space before he sighs and haltingly asks, "Can we, or, well, can we go lay down? Will you lay down with me?"

"Sure I will," George agrees.

So Matty scrambles to his feet and heads up the stairs and to their bedroom, George right behind him. He can feel George's gaze on him as he strips out of his trousers and swaps his button up for a t-shirt that was, at one point, George's. Matty's initial reaction is to preen or put on a show for George, but he finds that he doesn't really have to energy to do so. Instead, he throws back the blankets on the bed, carefully remade by George after they got up, and climbs into bed. George joins him a few minutes later and Matty rolls over, throwing his arm over George's ribs and intertwining their legs. George responds by wrapping his arm around Matty and rubbing his back through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

After a while, Matty's breathing get's rough and then there's a damp spot forming on George's shirt. Matty is crying, he realizes. Matty cries fairly often, George has come to know, but that doesn't make it any less concerning. That doesn't make him any less worried.

"Oh, love," George murmurs, "'s ok. Everything's ok. I'm here, I've got you."

Matty nods slightly and sniffs, but he doesn't say anything for a few moments. Then, "Thanks. Sorry. I don't mean to cry."

"'s ok," George repeats. "You don't have to apologize."

Matty nods again, then quietly says, "You make me feel safe. I feel safe when you're around, especially when I get like this."

"You are safe with me," George promises automatically. "I've got you."

Matty doesn't say anything more, just moves a bit, closing any space between himself and George and tucking his head under George's chin, wayward curls ticklish against bare skin. George doesn't say anything. Why on earth would he when he has Matty close like this?

Matty glances up at George when he's done moving, a tiny smile on his face.

George would kiss him, but he'd have to move, so instead he holds Matty a little tighter and murmurs, "There you go. Safe and sound, yeah?"

"Yeah," Matty echoes. "Safe and sound."

[crimsonblackrose]

.

And with that they stopped putting the girl's hair up. Both Sam and Tory have their hair down for their practice/training. Sam on the beach a la her dad and Tory in the Cobra Kai dojo.

Robby and Sam are leading lessons at the Miyagi dojo the way Alisha and Miguel used to. Ah, at least Sam's hairs up here. But Robby, come on man, you need a hair band at least.

I don't fully get why Daniel can't have Robby and Sam teach...earlier. Like that probably would've helped more with balancing things. At least he's doing it now.

The not putting our hair up kata beach date.

lol omg is Tory at Johnny and Miguel's apartment? Tory, do not practice fighting on cement. This is dumb. Miguel you should know better. Also, this case, not Johnny's problem because they're not working with him this time.

Tory using the same pinning techniques or trying to that Carmen did in Johnny's dream. Really this apartment complex is not where they should be sparring, even if it's flirty.

Tory's voice over was something she told Miguel, 'everyone's got a sob story it doesn't give you the right to be a bully' from Sam though isn't a line I recognize from earlier.

Also, Sam I think I gotta take 'bully' away from you and put it on a shelf. Like you accused Tory of stealing your mothers wallet, which she didn't do, and then put your hands on her. That wasn't her bullying you. Her knocking you down at the roller rink, might count. But then you hit her right back, so I don't think she's really bullying you. I think you two are just straight up fighting. And she's not really bullying anyone else, she's kicking other students, but that was under Kreese's orders and Johnny's trying to reign that in. I think you can't consider Tory a bully, but a rival. Like girl congrats on your first rival but again, nuance.

Sam, why are you watching/potentially following Tory?

Oh good they both put their hair up.

Oh hey Sam's going for telling her parents. Kudos. Finally. Her and secret boyfriends never work out well.

Shannon is finally home. She's dressed a little bit like Johnny, plaid and jeans.

She apologizes and says Cabo was a mistake. You think? You abandoned him, lost your apartment, and probably all of your stuff. Made him homeless.

He seems unsurprised she's leaving again. His body language though completely changes when she says she's going to rehab.

Johnny has a drinking problem, Shannon has a drinking and pill problem. (Which explains why she only came home before Cabo to collect all her pills)

Amanda and Daniel offered to let Robby stay with them until she's done with the program, and then she lightly says Robby can stay with his father. Who, reminder, doesn't know that Daniel took Robby in because Shannon was out of town and they couldn't reach her and then refused to tell Johnny what was up. Johnny probably assumed that Shannon had left Robby with them rather than him based off the last time he offered to take care of Robby he got rejected by both Shannon and Robby.

Shannon darling, he needed that a long time ago. Because now he has you and everything you've said as well as everything Daniel's been saying. Everyone in his life is anti-Johnny. Except Amanda, but I highly doubt Daniel told Amanda that he didn't actually tell Johnny what was going on which led to Johnny going into mama bear/papa bear mode and punching Anoush in the side/stomach. Which if anyone else had done that, it'd have been understandable, panicked can't find your kid? But no, because Johnny is Johnny it was just marked off as Johnny going wild and attacking people and being who they always assumed him to be, not where the hell is my son and how dare you kidnap him tell me where he is.

He cares about you and wants you in his life. 100% true, but because everyone has been against his father and saying how awful he is, Robby seems surprised to hear that and it looks really hard for Shannon to admit that.

I love Rosa and her "in that outfit I'd say you're saying hot for teacher"

I also do love Carmen being tentative about it. Their date is a lot of things. Like it's her son's karate instructor, it's also a guy who is a mess and she knows that, with a lot of baggage, and who her son lied about hanging out with and who sometimes she doesn't like how her sons turning out after being around him. Johnny's a hot mess.

Look at Johnny wearing a button up and jeans like Miguel taught him.

Carmen, Johnny can't ghost you btw, he lives nearby (two doors down) and teaches your son. 😂That's gotta be one bonus at least.

Rosa: Have fun, don't knock her up. (If only he'd listened to your advice Rosa)

Moon knows Tory, from hanging out with her and Aisha and the rest of the cobras so it's interesting that she doesn't try and contextualize or peace middle ground balance the whole thing. She does for 'at least you both moved on' but Sam seems unhappy about that, which like so teen soap.

Moon's terrible karate party. I forgot it was in season 2.

LaRusso date night, dinner and dancing (omg I forgot that coincided with Johnny's first date with Carmen, dude I'm so sorry, he didn't even get one date with her without it turning into an awkward double date, though it has been a while since Daniel and Johnny ran into one another, but I'm getting ahead of myself)

Amanda: Have fun, make good choices, I know I don't have to worry about you.

Sad that that doesn't hold up. I mean she lied about the party, she omitted she was in a car accident, she's been in multiple fights with Tory that I don't think Amanda knows about based of the hubbub of how much of a deal she made out of Robby, Demetri and her fight at the mall. She doesn't know that Sam was being bullied after breaking up with Kyler, let alone what all Kyler tried to pull. She does I think know that Miguel hit her, but didn't seem mad that she used Robby as an excuse to break out from being grounded. She's had two secret boyfriends since Kyler. Amanda is a mom who gives a whole lot of breaks even though this is a very rough patch Sam is in.

Johnny: when your a teen it's hard to avoid a little drama...only to run face first into his own drama. 😂I love that Amanda hears Daniel's complaint first, then sees Johnny and turns her attention to Carmen and they compliment each other. Best friends forever straight from the start.

Daniel: Will this be okay? Johnny checking with Carmen if it'll be okay before saying it will be and then Amanda just being blunt: They have warring karate dojos. 😂

Amanda knows she's in for a night and orders a Cadillac margarita, big glass.

It's interesting that they're even eating in the same spot since they live in different neighborhoods.

I love that Demetri brought a board game: Trivial pursuit, he would've brought balderdash had he been properly informed on the attendance level.

I guess it's summer. I was going to say the way these kids are eyeing each other it's like they haven't seen each other since what five of them defected to Miyagi-do? But nope, it's still summer vacation despite all the plaid and fall clothing.

Moon's party includes kegs and vegan pigs in a blanket.

Yes Miyagi-do and Cobra Kai don't get along but honestly kinda surprised that she didn't also invite Kyler who also doesn't get along with...any of them.

Moon trying to avoid fighting on the first day of school, if only she'd succeeded

Daniel ordered a Don Julio 70 extra chilled (which I'm realizing is his signature, the ice ice cold thing) which is a type of tequila

Carmen got a michelada (beer drink with hot sauce and lime)

And Johnny got his usual coors

Daniel judging Johnny's drink. And it's not like he's not judging, Amanda even gives him a look.

oh right, the pissing contest started. Poor Carmen, this is their first date. Johnny play it cooler than this you dumbass. Carmen: Wow that's great, so proud of you. Totally catching that he's doing this and being a good sport, but goodness. Neither Carmen nor Amanda should have to sit through Daniel and Johnny's bickering adjacently.

Meanwhile I love Amanda going, ah so this is happening. Her directness is just, refreshing. She's also gotta be so tired of it all. Carmen's at least outskirts of it, while Amanda is like living it because Daniel flipped her world upside down all of a sudden.

Lol Johnny immediately gives up pretense to talk directly to Daniel. So much for separate dates. Congratulations Carmen on your first date with Johnny, you didn't realize it'd be a double date with Daniel and Amanda.

Daniel is legit being rude. Carmen said she's Miguel's mom and she's sorry to hear they broke up and Amanda is polite but Daniel is sarcastic. I don't know if it's because of Miguel or Johnny but literally everyone in his orbit is like tainted to him, which is unfair.

Amanda saying she was with a different boy every week truly delighting Johnny while Daniel takes instant offense even though it was before they got together. For a guy who had a different love interest in every movie, he sure is judgy on that type of thing.

Carmen lets push the tables together, the guys: NOoooooo Amanda: YESSSS

The girls are going to have a great night whether you guys are awful or not, which if you just calm down you'll realize you actually like each other.

The Cobra Kai inviting Nate to dance, after being great at dancing and then everyone cheering Nate on. They totally had a chance to all get along.

Oh I forgot Stingray brought a woman to the teen's back to school party. 💀

I missed that Tory has been drinking for a while before Sam challenges her. Miguel says "still" champion, which means there was another guy before this. And really so far everyone's chill.

Miguel literally stands through their interaction with his eyes closed looking so done with Tory and Sam's antics.

Tory called Sam a princess again.

Robby trying to be a voice of reason. Sorry Robby she's got her dad's mongoose brain.

The restaurant they're eating at is called Don Corazon's

Carmen is an x-ray technician.

Ah yes the leg challenge.

Carmen ordered: tostadas de pulpo (the name of the ep) asado with no sour cream.

Johnny making sure she got the no sour cream.

Amanda orders: Chili relleno with camaron instead of carnitas and extra cilantro and no corn.

And she still doesn't want to write that down.

Daniel orders the same thing Amanda does but with the corn.

Johnny orders pollo tacos and asks for a hard shell (not an option he was given) and no green stuff. And Daniel starts up again but Amanda tells him to stop it.

Johnny: Please don't leave me. Amanda: Oh I'll go to the powder room too. Daniel: Nooo please don't leave me. 😂 Boys be adults huh?

Tory finishes her drink first and Sam's already wobbling but stubborn (like her dad) and finishes her drink.

Stingray's girlfriend cheers for Sam.

[alarrytale]

I don’t think he/his team thinks he needs an image rehab otherwise we would never have gotten fishkiss in Japan or Oliv** tattoo purposefully showed off for the paps. They are desperate and want his name to stay relevant, he wasn’t even properly mia for a week or two since the tour ended. I think they really want to make this relationship look more believable. They didn’t get paped yet (only in the aftershow but tabloids say how private it was 🙄) Every time he saw JC they were papped, I think it was done on purpose to show on the contrast how much H cares about his new relationships and cherishes their privacy; plus every time someone asks for a photo (and he is with TR) he refuses, but he is ok with it if he is alone or with JC. And it works cause I saw so many hetharries in awe saying how protective H is of his gf. I fully expect them to be on the red carpet together to officially launch their relationships and fishkiss after the show somewhere in the streets of Paris cause that what HSTM does nowadays. And probably in November we’ll get BV couple shoot.

Ah yes, the 89th time's a charm. This time we as a fandom will believe the stunt is real. Good job, hshq. It really doesn’t help cutting the paps off and going for fake candid pics if he still looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. And they were actually papped. At the press night of her play. It also doesn’t matter if it's paps or candid if it ends up on first page of the daily mail. Someone is pushing it and paying for it to be there. It's not low key, it's fake low key. Harry styles dragging a new model squeeze down oxford street is not low key at all lol. Cami*le was more low key than this.

I think people believe this is low key because holivia was so in our face at all times. It's low key in comparison to that, but still not really low key. They are out in public, in places that they know they'll be recognised. The sightings and daily mail articles are too frequent and not spaced out for that. It's too rushed to be low key. Maybe they are rushing it to launch it as a serious relationship at paris fashion week as you suggest, idk.

Yeah, he's staying relevant, but at what cost. If your target audience is tired of you, embarrased on your behalf or not really buying what you are selling (stunt or brand deals) at some point you should take a break or change strategy. Save your energy for when you have something to promote that you really need people buying. Like an album or concert tickets. Make people miss you and get their enthusiastiasm back. Or show us your good side to make people remember why they're a fan.

[chobit92]

The Quarry: Part Six

Sorry it has taken me ages to update this. Never enough hours in the day.

Warning: Miscarriage.

(Mara wakes up. She must have fallen asleep again. Damnit! That cop could have done anything to her. She looks around but he isn’t in the room. She sits up slightly and sighs. She is still hungry and she feels slightly sick. The door opens and the cop walks back in followed by a doctor. The cop sees that she is awake and he gives her a look. She swallows hard. The doctor smiles at her.).

Doctor: Mara?

(She goes to open her mouth, to tell this doctor everything that the cop has done but then she remembers what the cop said about Laura and Max never being found. That she would be seen as a mad woman. He’s probably only saying that to keep her mouth shut so he doesn’t land in the shit. But she has no idea what he’s really capable of. He could do anything. The doctor has moved closer to the bed. He is looking at her with concern.).

Doctor: How are you feeling?

Mara: Shit. You?

(The doctor raises his eyebrows and looks at the cop. The cop looks at Mara again and slowly shakes his head. She glares at him.).

Doctor: I’ve given the Sheriff your prescription. You will need to take antibiotics for the infection and get-

Mara: Plenty of rest. This isn’t my first miscarriage.

Doctor: No. I am sorry.

Mara: Everyone says that.

(She looks at the cop.).

Mara: But they ain’t.

(Something changes in his expression. It’s subtle but it’s there. Mara frowns. She can’t quite work out what he’s feeling but it seems to be...Regret? But no that can’t be right. He’s a sadistic asshole that likes drugging and kidnapping young girls. But then why kidnap Max? That makes no sense unless he was in the way. Yes he was a witness so he had to be taken too. That’s it. Her mind is suddenly spinning. Why is he doing this? Why shouldn’t she tell this doctor what he’s done? What is he gonna do really? Then she thinks about all the TV shows and all the documentaries. They always get away with it. The assholes always get away with it. She’s so torn over what to do that she hasn’t heard a word the doctor has been saying.).

Doctor: And I’ve put a leaflet in the bag regarding drug rehab clinics.

Mara: What? I’m not a junkie.

Doctor: We found Ketamine in your system.

Mara: Well I didn’t put it there.

(The cop is now giving her a warning look and he raises his eyebrows.).

Doctor: There’s no shame in admitting that you need help.

Mara: I don’t need help. I do just fine on my own.

Doctor: Hm. I’m sure you do.

(The doctor turns to the cop and he raises his eyebrows.).

Doctor: I’ll get the nurse to come in and remove your catheter.

(The doctor leaves. The cop walks over to the bed and looks down at her.).

Travis: Smart choice. Keeping your mouth shut.

Mara: Oh don’t get comfy. I’ll get you for this. Like I told you. You killed my baby. You have to live with that.

(She doesn’t know if he has a conscience or not. But if he does she hopes this is tearing him up inside.).

Mara: I don’t know exactly what you’re planning to do with me and my friends...But I will not let you get away with this.

(His expression hasn’t changed but he is now looking at the floor as if he can’t look her in the eyes.).

Travis: You should rest. We’ll be leaving soon.

(He turns away from her and sits back down in the chair. She lies there staring at the ceiling and he sees a tear roll down her cheek. He watches as it disappears into her hair. She sniffs.).

Mara: So when we leave...Where are we going back to prison?

Travis: Yes.

Mara: Why?

Travis: Just shut up.

Mara: No.

Travis: Want me to drug you again?

Mara: Ah yes. Drug her to shut her up again coz that’s much easier than explaining to her why you’ve kidnapped her and killed her baby.

(She turns and glares at him.).

Mara: You are not going to tell me to shut up anymore. You will not drug me anymore. I deserve more than this! I deserve an explanation as to why I’ve been locked up and drugged, and I deserve to have a baby!

(She lets out a sob. The cop sits there silently. The door opens and a nurse walks in.).

Nurse: Miss Benton?

Mara: That’s me.

Nurse: I’ve come to remove your catheter.

Mara: Great.

(The nurse looks at the cop.).

Nurse: I’m going to have to ask you to leave sir.

(The cop stands up and looks at Mara.).

Travis: I’ll be right outside.

(He gives her a warning look. A look that says keep your mouth shut. He then leaves the room. Mara lies there wondering again if she should just tell this nurse what’s happened. She opens her mouth to speak but a voice in the back of her head pipes up. But he’s the Sheriff. They won’t believe you.).

Nurse: How are you feeling?

Mara: Tired.

Nurse: I’m sorry for your loss.

Mara: Been here before. Should be used to it by now.

Nurse: No. You shouldn’t.

Mara: Maybe I should just give up trying. Someone’s obviously trying to tell me something.

(The nurse gives her a sympathetic look.).

Mara: Why does this keep happening to me?

Nurse: I don’t know sweetheart. But it isn’t your fault alright?

Mara: Not this time.

Nurse: What?

(Mara wonders why she just hasn’t opened her mouth and told this woman everything. What’s the cop gonna do? Kill her? He’d never get away with that. But he would deny it all wouldn’t he? He said he wouldn’t tell anyone where Laura and Max is. He probably wouldn’t either. She lies there thinking then lets out a wince.).

Nurse: You’ll be a little sore I’m afraid.

Mara: Yeah. I’ve done this before.

(The nurse has that sympathetic face on again. Mara hates catheters. They always leave you with a burning sensation down there and you feel like you need to pee constantly.).

Nurse: Right, we’re all done.

Mara: Great.

Nurse: Listen if you need to talk-

Mara: You can’t help me. Can I leave now?

Nurse: I don’t see why not. Just get some rest okay?

Mara: Yeah.

(The nurse leaves and the cop walks back in.).

Travis: She said you were free to go.

Mara: Apparently so.

(Mara sees the doctor from earlier. He’s followed Travis into the room.).

Doctor: If you need any help-

Mara: I don’t.

(The cop takes out a key and undoes the handcuffs. He is fixing her with a stare that could cut through steel. Like she’s going to try anything with the good doctor watching. That will only make her look like the criminal the cops made her out to be. She sits up and winces.).

Mara: Do I need to sign anything?

Doctor: No. You take it easy.

Mara: Yeah.

(The cop lowers the railing and Mara swings her legs round and slides off the bed onto her feet. She feels exhausted and dizzy. Probably the drugs that cop keeps filling her with. She falls forwards right into him and he catches her holding her up. She can feel his body pressed against hers and his hands gripping her arm and her side. She finds her feet and straightens up yanking herself away from him.).

Doctor: You alright?

Travis: Take it easy.

Mara: Don’t touch me. Where are my clothes?

Doctor: Right here.

(The doctor walks to the side unit and produces the outfit she was wearing when she came in. She stares at the blood on the skirt then swallows hard.).

Doctor: You can get changed in there.

(He indicates towards the bathroom. Mara grabs her clothes and walks through the door closing it behind her. She uses the loo then washes her hands before getting dressed. She leaves the hospital gown on the counter next to the sink. She opens the door and walks back into the room. The cop grabs her arms pinning them behind her back before he places the cuffs back on her.).

Mara: Get the fuck off me!

Doctor: Is that really necessary?

Travis: I’m afraid so.

Doctor: She’s very tired and in pain I hardly think she’s going to try running.

(Mara is breathing heavily and is hunched over. The cop takes hold of her arm.).

Travis: Come on.

(He picks up the bag the doctor gave him and guides Mara out of the room. The doctor watches them go. Mara just keeps walking the feel of the cops hand on her arm guiding her down the hall. Once they get outside she stops walking. She stands there feeling the breeze on her face.).

Travis: Come on.

(He tugs on her arm and leads her to his car. He opens the back door and guides her into the seat with his hand on her head. He then leans across her to put her seatbelt on. She leans back as far as she can to avoid brushing against him. He clips her belt in place then retreats shutting the door. He climbs in the drivers’ seat and starts the engine. She leans against the window as he pulls out of the hospital car park and heads off down the road.).

 (Mara is aware of someone shaking her gently. She opens her eyes and looks up to see the cop.).

Travis: Come on.

(She must have fallen asleep. She’s so tired and she’s dying for a piss. He grabs her arm and she allows herself to be pulled from the car. She sees that they are outside a police station. There are trees on one side of the small car park and weeds are growing everywhere. The place is in darkness and as he leads her up the steps of the building she looks back and sees a street and a small green but the place is deserted. She catches sight of another building across the way but it looks abandoned. There isn’t any glass in any of the windows. She is shoved through the door and watches as the cop locks it behind them. She looks around the room and sees several desks all with their chairs stacked neatly on them. There is only one light so most of the place is in darkness. It has a creepy feel to it. She takes a few steps forwards then stops dead as she hears a woman’s voice.).

Woman: They took everything from me. Make them pay.

Mara: What?

(The cop frowns at her. She looks at him.).

Travis: What?

Mara: Nothing.

(Either he didn’t hear it or he’s messing with her. Or maybe she’s finally gone mad and she’s hearing things. But then she thinks back to that woman in the woods. Laura and Max saw her too so she isn’t delusional.).

Travis: Come on.

(He leads her to the back of the room and they walk through a gate into a caged area. He then leads her past some benches and into the showers. He undoes the handcuffs and takes them off.).

Travis: Did you pack a towel?

Mara: What?

Travis: A towel?

Mara: Um...Yeah.

Travis: Good. I’ll go get you some clean clothes.

Mara: What?

Travis: I said I’d get you some clean clothes.

(She frowns at him.).

Travis: I’ll be back in a moment.

(He leaves the room and she hears the gate clang shut. She stands there for a moment then leaves the room. She sees that he’s locked the gate caging her in. Bastard. She turns and walks through an open doorway and finds herself outside the cells. She walks into the first one and uses the loo. Damn it hurts. She then walks over to the next cell. Laura is sat on the bed and she looks up at Mara shocked before leaping to her feet. She strides over to the bars.).

Laura: Oh my God Mara!

(Max shouts from the other cell.).

Max: Hey! You okay?

Mara: Not really.

Laura: Oh hon...What did he do to you?

Mara: He took me to the hospital.

Laura: He did?

Max: No way.

Mara: Yeah. Then he drugged me again.

Max: Asshole.

Laura: I don’t understand why he’d take you to hospital. I mean...Have you told anyone what he did to us?

Mara: I was gonna tell them what he did but...He said he’d never tell anyone where you were. He made me out to be some junkie and said that no one would believe me. I should have told them. I was so...Angry and now I have to go through this again! I shouldn’t have let him dictate what I said.

Max: This isn’t your fault.

Mara: I should have just told them.

Laura: I would have done. Like he could have covered this up!

Mara: They always find a way. They always weasel their way out of this crap. I have to make sure that he can’t do that.

(She grips the bars and closes her eyes letting out a breath.).

Laura: Are you okay?

Mara: You’ve already asked me that.

(The cop appears.).

Travis: Hey. No talking.

Mara: Why not? You still ain’t doing any.

(The cop narrows his eyes. Mara walks over to him.).

Mara: Why are we here?

(She goes dizzy again and has to lean against the wall. He steps towards her but she flinches away from him.).

Mara: Piss off! You’ve already done enough damage!

(He stops and stands there staring at her.).

Travis: Fine. I take it you don’t want your shower then.

Laura: Shower? How about some food first.

Max: Yeah we’re starving here.

Travis: Shut up.

(He looks at Mara.).

Travis: Come on. I haven’t got all night.

(She slowly follows him back to the showers. She sees that he’s left a towel and some clothes along with her small bag of toiletries. She puts her hand on the bag then opens it. Her toothpaste, toothbrush and her shampoo and shower gel are all in it along with her makeup. Her hairbrush is there too.).

Travis: Ten minutes.

(He leaves the room. She slowly takes her clothes off and stares at her reflection in the mirror. Tears sting her eyes and she walks over to the shower. The taps are covered in rust and grime and she bets there isn’t any hot water in this place. She turns the tap on and stands there with her hand under the water. To her surprise it comes out quite hot. She adjusts the temperature a bit then steps underneath the water. She stands there letting the hot water pour over her. Then she is sobbing. She leans against the wall and sinks to the floor. She tucks her knees to her chest and sits there. She doesn’t know how long she sits there for. She finally gets up and turns the shower off before going to the sink. She grabs the towel and wraps it around herself. There is a hairdryer attached to the wall and she lifts it off its hook before switching it on. It always takes ages to dry her hair as it’s so long. She switches off the dryer. She hears a knock from outside.).

Travis: Hurry it up.

(Her hair will have to do. She slowly opens her makeup bag then looks at her reflection again. She picks up her hairbrush and runs it through her hair. She then starts applying makeup. A few minutes later the cop walks in.).

Travis: Time’s up.

(He stares at her.).

Travis: Who’s all that for?

Mara: Nobody. I just...Want to feel like myself again. I want to feel normal again.

(He is silent.).

Mara: What, you thought it was for you?

(She glares at him then scoffs.).

Travis: Hurry up and get dressed.

Mara: Like you didn’t wander in here for a look.

(He shakes his head then leaves the room. Mara dries herself off and gets dressed. Her black leggings and baggy grey sweater. She wishes she had her pyjamas and her dressing gown. Maybe a coffee too. She sighs and looks at herself in the mirror again before she leaves the room. The cop leads her back to the cells and she walks into hers. She goes straight over to the bed and lies down facing away from him. She hears him close and lock the cell door before she hears his footsteps echoing away down the hall.).

Laura: Mara?

Mara: What?

Laura: Are you okay?

Mara: You keep asking me that. The answer is still the same. No.

Laura: I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.

Mara: No it shouldn’t. Maybe you should have listened to me and gone to the motel like I said.

Laura: Hey this isn’t my fault.

(Mara doesn’t answer. Deep down she knows this isn’t really Laura’s fault. But at the same time she can’t help but feel angry at her for not listening. Mara doesn’t know how long she lies there crying silently. She hears the cops footsteps again and something slides across the floor.).

Travis: Dinner.

(She then hears him walk to the other two cells. She stays where she is. She doesn’t feel like eating and whatever shit he’s given her probably isn’t worth it anyway. She hears him stop at her cell.).

Travis: Hey. You need to eat. Your tablet’s there too. The doc said you had to take ‘em.

(She doesn’t move or answer him. She hears him sigh before his footsteps disappear up the hall again.).

[transrightsyamaguchi]

thoughts on volume 9 of real:

YEAAAAAHHH YES YES YES YES YES IT'S HAPPENING IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING THE PATHS ARE CROSSING THE PLOTS ARE MERGING THE SKIES ARE OPENING UP AND TAKAHASHI!! IS!! BALLING!!!

ok. not really. that is an exaggeration. but takahashi has Remembered Kiyoharu. which means that he is now privy to the idea that he might play basketball again which means his search for a Goal that he was so hung up about in this volume might finally pay off.

merry christmas everyone btw. anyway we have That Big Plot Development. other thoughts:

shiratori is growing on me. it's always the characters i start off hating that i grow to like eventually. he's not that bad of an influence on takahashi. someone for him to talk to at least.

ah love this character dynamic. two weird men and their cranky teenage son they forcibly adopted. old man yaoi question mark?

now that i think about it this series doesn't have much in the way of homoerotic subtext. probably because the leads aren't all on a team Together and Being On A Sports Team Together is usually where the homoerotic subtext in sports manga comes from. aside from the fact that everyone nomiya meets falls begrudgingly in love with him a little and that includes kiyoharu and takahashi. i'm not even doing that much shipping in general and when i am i'm rooting for the (hopefully) Canon Straight Couples.

but if we want to mine for homoerotic subtext there's this moment with nomiya and (who he thinks is) takahashi:

which directly parallels a scene nomiya had with natsumi, his female love interest, in the first volume. probably just an in-joke coming back again but i see everything through yaoi glasses.

back to canon straight couples for a second. kiyoharu and azumi still aren't together. really torturing me with this slow burn aren't they. come on guys!! you have to get married while yama is still alive to be the best man!!

still dissatisfied with where kiyoharu's plotline currently is but we have a Hook to something that might cause some Effects. the upcoming training camp. at least two months have passed in the narrative since we heard from yama. azumi has noticed something off about kiyoharu.

show me the struggle please!! i want to see your internal torment!! and sit down!!

it really is just the lack of tension that's tormenting me about kiyoharu's plotline. he's not really Moving Toward anything at the moment other than just generally Being Good, so compared to takahashi and nomiya it feels like nothing's really happening with him. i probably just need to be more patient lol

pool scene. thomas c. foster how to read literature like a professor that i was forced to study my senior year of high school says every time a character is immersed in water it's a symbolic rebirth. a baptism in a sense. and i hate to concede defeat to ap literature and composition but i think he's on to something. the introduction of the athletics instructor (hara-sensei) is a new milestone in takahashi's rehabilitation, and it's through hara that he enters a gym for the first time since before his accident. and the last major thing that happened to him in a gym was the two-on-two match in volume one against nomiya and kiyoharu.

it took this long for takahashi to remember kiyoharu because he wasn’t ready until now. but now the plot events have come together to make him ready---he’s making progress in his rehabilitation, his character development is underway, the athletics instructor at the rehab facility has been introduced, and takahashi is now thinking about a long-term goal. all it took was nomiya showing up, because nomiya has a positive influence on everyone he meets.

so this reintroduction of basketball into takahashi's life is a symbolic rebirth. mrs. simpson give me an a+ please.

if takahashi really does start playing basketball he'd likely be a class 1 player. the tigers need another class 1 player. i hope this goes where i think it's going.

ending the christmas post with kiyoharu color page because despite my dissatisfaction with the current state of his plotline he's still my babygirl and i want him so bad. ignore my fuck ass thumb in the frame lol

[hesymbolized]

oh, my beautiful ones.

so, i was 100% gonna try to, like, fill myself in on what i missed last season, y’know? one of those very awkward moments in a movie, like, where someone was frozen in time, and suddenly the nice lady lying to you doesn’t have pointy enough boobs- or was it too pointy...?? can’t remember, but then you run out into the street and yeah, those flying monkeys did a goddamn number, so you give up and just absently write things down in a notebook with a pencil you need to lick, or some shit...? that. i decided i didn’t need to do that. if there’s something i should probably know, either fill me in, or leave me ignorant. it’s blissful either way.

anyway. my fool punk ass teetered a little too far into camp over-did-it last night, and after web md-ing myself into actual...panic...which is not my fault, ok, the internet shouldn’t have to tell us to not try to stuff ou- ah. yes. i don’t need to be told, you don’t need to be told. long/short, i’ve made my pilgrimage downstairs to get food. i’m not going down again until it’s time to help dad with dinner. so i’m in my chair, arranging nail polish in racks, decorating my marble wallpapered pegboard salvaged from behind my cvs that acts as a footboard and display space for a honestly somewhat terrifying amount of earrings and ...rings. this means i’m here. i’m quee- again. tmi.

it’s hard to get hold of me when i’m pulling 70-75 hour work weeks, but i’m on disability leave until end of september, so...i mean...i’m around.

does anyone even still use discord? should i just, i dunno, send out an email with my phone number? i don’t have a tag for tumblr people yet. do people still talk to each other? do we finally have telepathic silent brain to brain comms like in ghost in the shell?? WHO SHOT JR??

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 01 - Oolong]

Warnings: short mentions of car accidents & memory loss but it’s nothing major, a lil bit of creepiness but again nothing major

Wordcount: 8.1k

a/n: and so it begins, one of the softest, most comforting stories i have ever written :(

Three years ago you were living a different life. You have no memory of this life, but you were told that you were.

You were living in the big city, where people didn’t know you and millions of stories lived out collectively at the same place and the same time. You had a job at one of Korea's biggest banks, something along the lines of director of finances. At least that’s what they told you in the hospital.

You had a big apartment, so big that your mouth fell open when you returned to it once your rehab was over.

You also had lots of friends, so you were told, but in the countless months you spent in the hospital just two of them visited you. Strange for someone with supposedly dozens and dozens of friends. At least with the memory loss you didn’t feel heartbroken about the fact that the majority of them didn’t want to see you. You couldn’t really blame them either. You can’t even imagine how you would have reacted if you had gotten a call that your friend was in a car accident and that the chances of survival were at twenty percent. You did however survive, waking up after two months in a coma, totally confused and unable to remember your own name.

Walking was hard at first, actually, everything was hard at first. Your fingers weren’t used to holding things anymore and even breathing was hard on some days.

But with time and the loving care of your nurses, you learned to be human again. The doctors called you a miracle and that you must have been given a second chance by the universe.

And so you took that second chance and decided to leave your past life behind. You left the big city to instead move into the little cottage on the countryside, which your grandparents had apparently left you. You quit your job, knowing fully well they wouldn’t have taken you back either way and with just the essentials stuffed into a little moving van started the journey to your new life just one month after being released.

That was already three years ago and there wasn’t a moment you regret your decision. With your savings you bought a little tea shop and turned it into your new profession. Nowadays it is the most popular tea shop - slash bakery - in your town. With a population of around 800 people it is probably not hard to become popular, especially because you were the only tea shop in your village, but you were proud of your achievement nonetheless. Just last spring you were even able to expand your business and hire your first ever employee.

The former is currently sweeping the floor clean when you enter the tea shop, a happy melody is on his lips and his body is swaying in a little dance.

“Good morning Hoseok. You seem cheerful today”, you greet the red-haired man.

He stops dancing to bow his head, sending you a bright smile.

“Good morning ma’am. I am really happy today, thank you for asking. How about you ma’am?” he says loudly, pronouncing every syllable with care.

“How often do I have to tell you to talk casually to me?” you chuckle fondly, making Hoseok blush in embarrassment.

“Ah, I always forget, forgive me, force of habit”, he confesses, scratching the back of his neck.

“No worries”, you assure him to which he visibly relaxes his shoulders, “tell me, is Jimin here already?”

Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I haven’t checked the kitchen yet. I just came here and started cleaning right away.”

“Alright, thank you. I’ll go check on him then.”

“Yes ma’am”, Hoseok nods obediently before continuing his work.

You smile fondly. He will never change.

When you enter the kitchen, it already smells like freshly baked goods and upbeat music plays softly through the old radio on the counter. Jimin is kneading a ball of bright green dough when you pat his shoulder in greeting.

“Oh!” he startles, jumping at the contact.

“It’s just me. Don’t worry”, you laugh at the shocked expression on his round face when he turns.

His face relaxes, the frown turning into his signature smile.

“You startled me, wow”, he chuckles, “Glad you came however, I wanted to talk to you either way.”

“Talk to me? Did something happen?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“We ran out of strawberries last night and I only realised after having kneaded the dough”, he explains, pointing at the green rice dough he worked on previously.

“Don’t worry, I called the Kims this morning. They will deliver fresh fruits at around lunch time today.”

“Oh that is terribly late though”, he mumbles, scratching his chin. Pieces of dough stuck to his skin.

“Then how about you fill the pies with something else today?” you suggest, cleaning off his chin with gentle fingers, “we still have some raspberries in the freezer.”

Jimin thinks for a moment, grabbing his chin again. New dough sticks to his skin, almost making you chuckle. How endearing.

“Maybe this could work. The taste would be different of course, but I could replace the vanilla with marzipan and then top the pies off with some almonds”, his eyes light up, “this could actually work. Thank you, I was already giving up.”

You brush the dough away one more time, making him lower his eyes in bashfulness.

“Glad I could help. Those pies sound delicious.”

He smiles brightly, his eyes turning into little crescent moons.

“Then back to work I would say. I have so much to do”, he sings excitedly, skipping back to the freezer room.

“Have fun baking. I’ll be in the front if you need me”, you call after him and leave the kitchen to finally get ready for today.

The day starts off calm as always. Your regulars visit you to get a cup of Hoseok’s town-famous vanilla oolong. Mrs Oh and her small, fragile husband come at exactly nine twenty, sitting down on the small, round table in the corner of the bakery. Like always they talk loudly about the weather and how it will soon be winter, yes even in summer it will soon be winter in their eyes, and share a glass of water from which they both drink for a good hour. Once Mrs Oh and her husband left with a loaf of fresh rye bread, the town’s mayor struts through the door, fixing his colourful tie before greeting you with a loud “hello the mayor’s here”. You ask him “Mister Mayor, are you late for work again?” to which he laughs and shakes his head. Like always he tells you “the telly kept me up last night and my alarm clock is broken” and then gets a big paper cup of Hoseok’s town-famous vanilla oolong. He’ll comment on Hoseok’s hair colour, “where do you get dye like this?” and then strut out of the tea shop to make his way to the town hall. At exactly ten minutes before twelve the elementary teacher Miss Jang and her daughter Sooha get their three strawberry pies - today they are raspberry pies - and Sooha gets her warm milk with honey. And just like that the morning at the bakery comes to an end.

Hoseok puts his jeans jacket on, fixing the collar. He looks at the mirror on the wall, brushing through his hair. Jimin comes out a moment later, apron left in the kitchen and instead a grey, long coat sits on his shoulders. He joins Hoseok by the mirror, checking his face for any traces of flour. Then they both turn to you, both of them smiling brightly.

“You want to join us boss?” Hoseok asks.

“We want to try old Mister Choi’s new mussel soup today”, Jimin says.

“You guys go without me today, the Kims will arrive in around ten minutes and I need to welcome them”, you tell them, to which both pout in distaste.  

“Should we get some takeout for you?” Hoseok asks, to which you dismiss him with a wave of your hand.

“I’m okay guys, don’t worry about me and enjoy your lunch break.”

“Yes ma’am thank you ma'am”, Hoseok says, nodding obediently.

You watch the two men leave the shop. Jimin is hitting Hoseok's arm gently, scolding him for being so formal with you to which the latter mumbles a quiet “can’t help it.”

Chuckling fondly to yourself, you finish cleaning the last tables and as you rinse your cleaning rag, you can already hear the shrill horn of the Kims’ truck.

You raise your head, watching a turquoise truck pull up in front of the café and then two men get out. They are waving at you through the windows the moment they lay eyes on you.

“Taehyung, Namjoon hello, you look good today”, you greet them.

“You too”, Taehyung smiles before his straw hat slips down to his nose, “the new apron looks pretty”, he says, fixing the hat with a boyish grin.

“Doesn’t it? Hoseok sewed new aprons for us. I think the bees go lovely with the season”, you explain.

“True, true. Bees are very summery”, Taehyung agrees, nodding his head so vigorously that his straw hat slips down to his nose a second time.

As he is busy fixing his hat once again, you turn your attention to Namjoon. He is rummaging around in the back of the truck, back hunched and grunts of exhaustion leaving him.

“Do you need help?” you offer to which Namjoon raises his head. He looks over the rim of the trucks railing, the lenses of his round glasses smeared with dirt as always.

“I’m good”, he says, eyes wandering over to Taehyung.

“Taehyung! Stop fumblin’ wit' your hat and help me, will ya?” he orders to which Taehyung straightens up in an instant.

He nods obediently, holding his hat to prevent it from slipping down a third time.

“Comin’ hyung!”

You follow Taehyung to the rear end of the truck, watching the two men unload the eight boxes of fresh fruit.

“I expected the three of you today. Where’s Seokjin?”

“Milka gave birth and he is helpin’ with the delivery”, Namjoon explains.

“Finally, I was scared the old cow doesn’t wanna let go of her baby”, Taehyung jokes.

“Wow congrats”, you look at Taehyung, “you already have a name for the baby?”

“Yes of course”, Taehyung jumps from the truck, cleaning his hands on his dungarees, “Schoki, which means chocolate in German, because he is gon’ be just as brown as chocolate”, he explains proudly.

“What a name. Milka and Schoki, one could think you are a chocolate factory”, you chuckle.

“Right? The little rascal is gon' ruin our image with all those silly names”, Namjoon says, ruffling through Taehyung's hair fondly.

The latter complains with a loud whine, face covered behind the knocked down hat.

“Stop babyin’ me hyung, I’m only a year younger than you.”

“At heart you’ll always stay my little baby brother”, Namjoon ruffles Taehyung's hair some more, which only makes Taehyung pout just that harder.

He had just fixed his hat and now it’s all tilted again.

“You two, I swear to heavens”, you chuckle, watching their cute antics with fond eyes.

Namjoon jumps off the truck as well, picking up two boxes. He peeks at you over the boxes.

“Where d'you want us to put them?”

“Oh yeah right! The deliveries, I totally forgot. Put them in the freezer room like always. Thank you”, you tell them, opening the doors for them.

Once all the boxes are stored in the kitchen, it is already time for the two brothers to leave again. You aren’t the only customer they need to attend to today. Their farm is highly successful. The bakeries and restaurants from neighbouring towns also rely on their high-quality produce and the day of deliveries has only started for them.

“I’ll tell Seokjin you said hi”, Namjoon says after having rolled the windows down.

“Thank you, I’ll come visit you guys soon, promise. I want to meet Schoki”, you tell them.

“Yes please do”, Taehyung calls from the driver's seat, head peeking from behind Namjoon.

“I promise. See you guys”, you smile.

“See you”, they say in unison, rolling up their windows and then Taehyung finally drives off.

One hour later Jimin and Hoseok come back from their lunch break, both carrying a take-out for you despite you telling them not to worry about you. They never listen. Once you ate your food, because neither Jimin nor Hoseok would let you go back to work on an empty stomach, you join Hoseok at the counter, ready to serve the many afternoon customers. Most of the customers you get in the afternoon are tourists. As your little town is surrounded by mountains and many hiking trails, tourists are a daily occurrence in your tea shop. Today a group of loudly chatting Europeans came over to buy two sandwiches each.”We need the calories if we want to reach the mountain top”, one of them told you. “That’s the right mindset”, you agree and wish them luck on their hike. Later in the evening you can watch them strut past the tea shop, faces heated from the walk.

At exactly six thirty you close the shop like always. Jimin is the first to leave, driving home with his old, squeaking bike whilst whistling a happy melody. Hoseok is the next to leave, but not before bowing deeply at you and wishing you a good night. You scold him for being so formal, which makes him blush and stutter a cute apology. Once Hoseok is gone as well, you lock the doors and begin your way home.

The tea shop isn’t that far away from your cottage, just a few hills up and down and then you can already see the small river making its way through the weeping willows and your house right at the riverbed.

Like always, your little black cat Levi is waiting for you by the door, meowing loudly and circling your legs until you pick him up.

“Hello Levi, I missed you too. Did you have a lovely day?” you ask, hugging him to your chest.

He meows loudly, wiggling vehemently.

“Fine I’m already putting you down. Geez”, you murmur.

Levi shakes himself, looks up at you with his grey eyes and meows loudly.

“You are acting as if I didn’t feed you in the morning. Come on, I’ll give you your dinner”, you say, walking to the kitchen to give your poor starving boy some food.

Two hours later you are in bed, ready to end the day with Levi by your feet and the book, you had read mere seconds earlier, on the bedside table.

“Good night Levi”, you tell him, turning off your lights and snuggling into your pillow.

Three years ago your life was totally different. Nowadays, your life has a routine. You know what you were going to do at a specific time of your day and you know who you were going to meet where and when. To some it may seem boring, but to you it is perfect. Simple and yet never boring.

The sun wakes you the next morning. Levi is cuddled to your chest, purring quietly. You roll onto your back, careful not to wake him and listen to the first birds singing their songs.

“Good morning Levi”, you say, stretching your arms above your head and sitting up afterwards.

Levi raises his head, hissing a cute complaint for waking him before he jumps to his feet and crawls into your lap.

“Someone is cuddly today”, you chuckle, stroking his soft fur, “come let’s get breakfast.”

His ears twitch at that and a moment later he is off the bed and struts to his empty bowl. He likes chicken the most, it’s making his tail wag the quickest and his little meows sound just that much cuter. Whilst Levi is eating his breakfast, you make yourself a big cup of black tea and make your way to your sunroom afterwards. Levi follows you of course. He does not want to miss out on whatever you plan on doing.

“Wow, look how nice it is today”, you gush, watching the green leaves of the willows dance in the breeze. You pull the rocking chair, which has previously stood next to the bookshelf, into the middle of the sunroom and sit down on it afterwards.

The sun is surprisingly warm for the time of the year. The blanket, you had wanted to throw over your legs to keep yourself warm, lays forgotten on the couch. Levi will make it his' later when you are gone for work.

You close your eyes and sigh happily, leaning back in your rocking chair.

“The weather is getting warmer again, Levi. Isn’t that great? Soon we will be able to have breakfast outside.”

Levi raises his little head and looks up at you for a moment until lying down to sleep again.

“I love the sun so much. Wouldn’t you agree Levi?” you ask, looking down at him.

The cat’s ears twitch, but other than that he doesn’t move an inch.

“I knew you would say that”, you smile fondly. You take a sip of your tea and lean back again, closing your eyes once more.

“Moments like this with you are what life is all about”, you sigh, smiling to yourself.

You sit like this for quite some time, rocking back and forth in your rocking chair whilst listening to the birds sing outside and drinking your tea. You would have probably continued doing exactly that when a sudden object hadn’t blocked the sun so rudely.

You peel your eyes open to see who robbed you of your precious peace. A big, grey truck with the words “Jeon’s Rice & Moving Service” parks on the other side of the river, blocking the sunlight from you. The car doors open and three men get out. Two are dressed in grey uniforms, their shoulders broad and their arms big. The Jeon brothers, you know them. The third guy however must be their client. He is dressed completely in black and is significantly smaller than the other guys.

“Huh?” you straighten up, eyes glued to the three men.

They are talking for a moment, looking at a clipboard, which the smaller man is holding. Soon they seem to come to a conclusion and get to work in an instant.

“This can’t be”, you mumble, watching them carry furniture into the old cottage across the river from you.

“Look Levi, someone is finally moving into the Old House”, you tell him, not even expecting an answer from him.

The Old House has been empty ever since you moved here. It probably has been empty for a long time before that, but you never really asked for how long. You just knew that everyone in town simply called it “the Old House”. The paint had started to come off the bricks and dark ivy covered everything else. The windows looked rotten, definitely letting in the hot air in summer and the freezing winds in winter. You are also pretty sure that the black-tiled roof has holes all over. The inside you had never seen, but you aren’t particularly sad about that. Looking at the outside of the Old House is enough for you to imagine the inside state of it.

The broker must have either made an amazing offer or the buyer must be crazy. You aren’t really able to explain the miracle unfolding in front of your eyes otherwise.  

You are definitely going to pay the new, and probably crazy, neighbour a visit after work. You would love to do it right now, but you are already running terribly late.

“Take watch for me Levi, I’ll be back soon. I expect updates”, you tell him, getting up to leave the house.

Levi simply meows and then goes back to sleep.

You can’t help yourself from stopping in front of the house when you pass by it, waiting for someone to come outside. One of the moving people comes out first. The younger brother, he is a few years younger than you, his cheeks puffy and his eyes as big as those of a deer. He looks at you, confused for a moment.

“Oh? Noona, good day. What are you doing here?” he asks, head tilting to the side.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just trying to figure out who would be crazy enough to buy the Old House.”

He laughs, clearly amused.

“Not me if you’re wondering. I’m just here to help him move. You know he called my father last night and asked for our help.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where your dad’s weird moving business actually has customers.”

He snorts, “yeah me neither, he made me and hyung drive all the way to Daegu.”

“So he is a city guy...what does a guy from the city want with such a rundown house?” you wonder out loud.

He shrugs his shoulders, resting his hand on his hips.

“Don’t ask me, I’m just doing my job”, he grins playfully.

“Of course you are, sorry I asked”, you give him a quick apologetic smile, which he dismisses with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it noona.”

“Jeon Jungkook!” someone yells from the inside and a moment later his older brother appears at the door frame, “stop chatting up the neighbours and help us unload. Father doesn’t pay you for talking! Good morning ___!”

“Morning Junghyun!”  

“I’m coming hyung, sorry!” Jungkook calls before he turns to you. He is blushing with a boyish grin on his face, “sorry noona, I have to go again. Duty’s calling.”

“Sure I have to go to work anyways. It was nice talking to you Jungkook, greet your parents from me will ‘ya?”  you send him a friendly smile, which he returns happily.

“I will. Have a nice day. Bye bye”, he waves at you and a moment later storms off into the direction of the house.

You arrive at the tea shop at the same time Hoseok does on his Vespa. He gets off hurriedly when he sees you, not even giving himself time to take off his helmet before he already bows at you, greeting you loudly.

“Good morning ma’am. I’m sorry I’m late, my dog threw up all over my carpet this morning and I had to clean everything up!”

“It’s okay I’m late too, don’t worry about it. I hope Mikey’s okay though.”

Hoseok takes off his helmet, ruffling through his hair to fix it and nods. “He is fine, the rascal just ate his food too fast and got a belly ache. It’s his own fault.”

“You can sing me a song of that, Levi’s the same”, you chuckle fondly.

Hoseok joins you, holding the door open for you. Once inside, he helps you get out of your coat and hangs it up on the coat hanger next to his jeans jacket.

“But why are you late ma’am? It’s not like you to run late”, Hoseok asks, joining you behind the counter after he flipped the sign to open on the door.

“The most peculiar thing happened to me this morning. You won’t believe me when I tell you, but someone moved into the Old House.”

Hoseoks eyes grow big, “What? The Old House? Who in their right mind would move into that?”

“Apparently some guy from the city.”

“Someone from the city? Why would someone from the city want to live in the Old House?” Hoseok mumbles, clearly thinking out loud. Suddenly his face lights up, as if he had an idea, “what if he doesn’t even want to live here, but instead he wants to turn the Old House into a bed and breakfast or something. Or a pension or a hotel?”

You shudder at the thought.

“Don’t say that, just imagining that gives me goosebumps.”

“Why? It would be amazing for our business.”

“Yes of course, but-“, you lower your voice just slightly, making Hoseok lean closer, “-imagine all the ruckus I would have to go through each and every day. And all the people who would stare at me when I’m in my sunroom. No thank you.”

Hoseok gasps, hiding his mouth behind his hands.

“I didn’t even think of that”, he whispers, “oh no, that wouldn’t be good. I’m sorry that I even suggested that ma’am”, he says loudly, bowing at an almost ninety degree angle.

You laugh, pulling Hoseok up by his shoulder.

“You rascal, how often do I have to tell you to stop being so formal with me?” you chuckle, nudging his arm gently.

“Ah, I did it again. I’m really trying to change that, but it’s just so hard. I feel like I would insult you if I started being informal with you”, he blushes, scratching the tip of his nose shyly.

“It’s been almost a year since you started working here. Don’t worry, you won’t insult me”, you pat his shoulder, “you can loosen up.”

“Okay thank you ma’am. I mean! Thank you boss.”

You scoff in amusement, “okay that’s fine for now”, you chuckle, shaking your head.

Soon your tea shop routine starts. Mrs Oh and her husband visit you like always, later the mayor and around lunch break Miss Jang and Sooha. Hoseok, Jimin and you go to the old Choi for lunch and open the tea shop two hours later again, ready to welcome your afternoon guests. The afternoon is surprisingly busy today, it is as if the entire town decided to go for a cup of tea, even Hoseok, who normally never breaks a sweat, has to stop at one point to wipe his forehead on the sleeve of his flannel. For some reason everyone in town seemed to have noticed what was going on at the Old House, you had lost count of how many times you had the same conversation about the crazy city guy and the fear that he would turn the Old House into a hotel. People in this town apparently all think alike, but that’s their charm after all.

Hoseok and Jimin leave the tea shop before you, like they always do, but not before Jimin didn’t give you a big box of leftover cookies to greet your new neighbour with. “Maybe that will sway him not to ruin our town”, he said and then drove off with his squeaky bike. Hoseok drives off five minutes later, telling you to act crazy so the city guy thinks people in this town are bad for hotel business. You told him that you will try it with a smile on your lips. You close up afterwards, making your way home.

When you are close enough to actually see the Old House, you notice the moving van had already left for the day. So they must have finished the work already, hopefully your neighbour is still here and didn’t go back to the city for the night.

Wait. You stop, watching the lights flicker on inside. There is electricity in this house?

“So it isn’t all rotten in there”, you mumble, starting to walk up the hill until you reach the fence gate. It is open and you take it as your invitation to officially set foot on the property.

You look around the garden when you walk through it. The trees are tall and old, shielding off most of the stars and painting the scrubs in a dark shadow. It is a lot colder underneath the trees than outside on the road, making you shiver. If this property wouldn’t be that creepy, you would find walking here a lot nicer.

“Huh?” you gasp once you arrive at the front door, “it’s opened?” Should you just enter? No, that would be trespassing, he doesn’t even know you yet and neither do you. What if he owns a machete and starts stabbing you when you burst into his house like that? You shiver at the thought, thinking about turning on your heels and just running away.

“No, get yourself together. We aren’t in the movies here”, you mumble, tightening your fingers on the cookie box. You press on the door bell with all your might, only to scream up in total horror when bright bolts of lightning cut through the air the moment you press the rusty doorbell.

A loud yell rings from inside as well when all of the lights go out in a reaction to your little accident. You can hear heavy footsteps scurry around, mixing with very graphic and angry cursing.

This is so embarrassing, you just want to turn around and run away, but before you can leave your neighbour to figure out on his own what had caused the bypass, the front door opens swiftly.

“Who’s there? I heard you scream”, a deep and very angry voice growls. A white light from a headlamp blinds you, making you squint your eyes. You can’t see anything other than that stupid light.

"Y-you?" 

“H-hello sir. I’m your neighbour, sorry for interrupting your work, but I just came here to welcome you to the village”, you stutter, shielding your eyes from the light. 

Silence then a quiet cough as he clears his throat.

“Did you cause the short? You didn’t press the doorbell did you?” he straight up ignores you, still shining the blinding light directly into your eyes.

“Uhm, would it be possible for you to turn those lights off? They really hurt my eyes”, you ignore his questions for the sake of your eyes.

“Oh, my bad. Sure”, he says a lot calmer and turns the lights off.

You blink, trying to adjust to the new darkness. When you finally get rid of the annoying blue dots in your eyes, you look at him, expecting to finally see his face.

However, all you see is a figure lingering in the shadows, shielding its face from the street lamps behind his door. All you can clearly see are long, pale fingers grasping the wood, the fingernails dirty from working and the nail beds bitten bloody. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps on staring at you in silence.

“I have cookies.”

The fingers leave the door and soon a pale arm appears. It is covered in dirt and dust.

“Thank you”, he murmurs, grasping the box of cookies most tenderly.

And then the hand disappears inside again.

This is creepy. Far too creepy for you to want to stay any longer.

“Uhm, okay. Anyways, welcome to the village and I hope you’ll be able to fix the issue. Feel free to send me the bill if the damage is a lot bigger. Sorry again for the short.”

He hums deeply, his shadowy head nodding.

“Okay, uhm”, you take a step back, “I’ll be going then”, you get down the three stairs, “Good night”, you say, walking down the path with your back turned to the road and your eyes fixed on the door. He is still staring at you from the darkness, not moving an inch.

Only when you are finally on the road and have closed the fence door behind you, do you turn around, starting to sprint down the hill to the safety of your house.

You stop running when you reach your door, already tasting blood in your mouth from panting. With shaky fingers you somehow manage to open your door, not even opening it completely before you slip inside and throw it closed again. You lock it quickly, checking twice if you actually did and only then do you feel yourself starting to relax. You shudder, hugging yourself.

“What the actual hell was that?” you mumble, rushing into the living room to close all your blinds. Levi is meowing by your feet, complaining about having to starve the entire day, but you don’t pay him any attention, you just want to make sure everything is closed and nobody can look into your house.

“Levi the scariest thing just happened to me”, you pick him up, snuggling his small body to your chest. He starts to lick your face, purring quietly, “I just wanted to welcome the neighbour and he just stared at me. He acted like he was the next new horror movie antagonist.”

Levi tilts his head to the side, listening to you intently.

“It gave me the creeps, look”, you show him your arm, “I still have goosebumps because of it.”

Levi meows, wiggling in your arms. It makes you giggle and instantly feel better.

“I know Levi, I know you were worried about me. But mommy’s here now, don’t worry about me anymore”, you coo, hugging him tighter to your body, “let’s go feed you and then cuddle in the bed. Mommy really needs that tonight.”

The Old House greets you the next morning, standing against the sun cold and menacingly and casting long, creepy shadows. You clutch your tea cup tighter, swallowing loudly.

“Is it just me or is the Old House smirking at me in a taunting way?” you ask Levi. He looks up from his food for a moment, meows once and then goes back to eating his chicken far too quickly.

“That’s it, I’m not drinking my tea in the sunroom today”, you decide, closing the doors to it and pulling the thick curtains in front of them.

Your living room is good too, the sofa is really comfortable and you can watch Levi eat his breakfast, which is good too. Yes everything is better than sitting in a room entirely made out of glass and getting watched by the Old House.

Which still doesn’t save you from having to pass it on your way to work, the aspect of it already making you shiver. If walking past it wasn’t scary enough, a cold wind starts howling the moment you are directly in front of the Old House. The wood creaks, the windows rattle and the long grasses dance like a wild sea in the storm. You shiver, quickening your steps.

“Hey ___!” a male voice suddenly cuts through the wind, making your blood freeze in your veins.

Oh god, is this your neighbour? Did he see you? Is he running up to you? You don’t dare to turn around, but you can hear his footsteps coming closer. You can’t move, you can’t run away. It is like you are frozen on the spot. He could straight up murder you and you wouldn’t be able to move. Is this how you are going to die? In broad daylight on your way to work? Murdered by your creepy neighbour, what a wonderful way to go.

“Good morning Miss”, he stops running, now leaning against the fence with his arms. You can see his shadow in the corners of your eyes and yet you can’t move.

“If you are going to kill me, just do it already”, you stutter, sweating even though you were freezing cold.

“Kill you?” he breaks into loud, heartfelt laughter, “why would I want to kill you?”

Surprised by his reaction, and sweet laugh, your body suddenly works again. You turn to stare at him in a mixture of shock and confusion. Your confusion only grows when you finally get a good look at his face. You had expected to see a monster. Fallen-in cheeks, blue chapped lips and murderous, bloodshot eyes. But instead a man your age smiles back at you. Cheeks puffy and glowing in the sunlight, lips pink and pouty and his dark brown eyes sparkle in friendliness.

“Now I’m confused”, you can’t stop your mouth from falling open. How is that possible? How does he look so normal, handsome even, but act so creepy?

“You probably expected a creep because of how I acted last night, right?” he chuckles, tilting his head to the side.

“Honestly I did”, you confess, still wary. Maybe this is his plan, get you to trust him with his cute smile and then bash your head in when you aren’t looking. He wouldn’t be the first serial killer using his charms to lure naïve women to their demise.

“I think I owe you an apology for how I acted last night. I couldn’t sleep because of how embarrassed by my behaviour I was. I promise you I am not a serial killer”, he smiles, lowering his head.

“This is exactly something a serial killer would say.”

He chuckles, scratching his neck.

“I’m not helping myself here”, he looks at you shyly, “the truth is, I am really scared of social interactions, especially unplanned ones and when you stood at my doorstep last night my brain kind of shut off. Not an excuse to be a total creep, but I hope I at least could ease your nerves a little.”

You study his face for a moment. As much as you try to find any evil in his eyes, you can’t. Maybe he is actually telling the truth right now.

“Maybe. I don’t know yet”, you say finally.

“Good enough for me”, he sends you a shy smile, “I’m Min Yoongi by the way, but you can call me Yoongi if you want to”, he says, offering you his hand to shake.

You don’t accept it, bowing your head instead.

“Hello”, you send him an unsure smile.

“Hey”, he grins, “and you are? I don’t think you’ve told me your name yet.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m ___.”

“___?” he repeats.

You nod.

“What a beautiful name”, he smiles again, brushing strands of his blond hair out of his face.

“Thank you.”

For a moment neither one of you knows what to say. Yoongi just simply lets his eyes travel over your face, while you grow more restless with every passing second spent in silence.

“Anyways I’ll go now-“, “I tried your cookies and-“, you say at the same time.

“Oh sorry”, Yoongi chuckles, scratching the tip of his nose with his little finger. It leaves a stain of dirt behind.

“Sorry”, you mumble.

“You first”, Yoongi says, pointing his hand at you.

“O-okay. Uhm, I think I’ll be going now or else I’ll be late to work.”

“Of course. Gosh, silly me is keeping you up. Sorry.”

“No worries.”

You would normally ask him what he had wanted to tell you, but he is studying your face again with that weird almost longing sparkle in his eyes and it is starting to creep you out.

You take a step back, clearing your throat.

“It was nice talking to you. Have a nice day”, you say quickly.

Yoongi nods his head, smiling again.

“The honour was all mine”, he pauses for a moment, “___”, he says quietly.

“Good morning ma'am!” Hoseok greets you loudly, stopping his task of sweeping the ground in front of the tea shop to bow at you. He had watched you walk down the narrow street for quite a while now, wondering why you looked so uneasy. He was worried, imagining the worst possible scenario in that overthinking head of his’. What if Levi died under unknown circumstances? What if you dropped your favourite mug? What if the Old House will actually be turned into a hotel?

“Morning Hoseok”, you mumble, forcing a quick smile to your face and entering the tea shop afterwards.

It is not that Hoseok annoys you, but rather you are far too lost in your own thoughts to function. The neighbour, Min Yoongi, told you that you can trust him, but why do you still feel so creeped out by him? Is it the way he said your name once he found out? He sounded so charmed by your name, it makes you feel weird.

“Boss? Are you okay?” Hoseok follows you inside, having abandoned the broom outside next to the ficus trees.

“Hm?” you look up at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“You look really worried. Is the Old House actually going to be a hotel?”

At that Jimin looks up from the table as well, getting to his feet to join Hoseok in front of the counter.

“What’s the matter boss? You okay?” he asks.

“Of course I am okay, it’s sweet you are so worried about me, but I’m okay”, you dismiss them, turning around to get the water cookers ready.

“Is the Old House getting turned into a hotel?” Jimin asks.

Hoseok looks at Jimin then at you, swallowing in worry.

“No of course not”, you send them a reassuring smile, “it is just a guy, Min Yoongi, who moved here. I think, at least.”

They both visibly relax.

“It is just that he is giving me weird vibes. Last night when I wanted to give him the cookies I accidentally caused a short and when he opened the door he scolded me, understandably, but-“

Hoseok gasps before even knowing the big reveal.

“-but then he kind of froze and creeped back into the shadows and didn’t even say a word like a total weirdo”, you shudder.

“Ooooh creepy”, Hoseok whispers, slightly scared.

“This is just like a documentary I watched a few weeks ago. A young, handsome man moved into an empty house across the street from a woman and then weird things started to happen. Her flower beds had footsteps all over them, her windows were smeared as if someone had pressed their face against the glass and weird love letters started appearing at her doorstep. Turns out the new neighbour was actually a serial killer, who escaped from an asylum. He fell in love with the woman and wanted her all to himself and when she refused, he skinned her alive and wore her face as a mask. But the man was never found, he fled before the police could catch him and has been missing ever since”, Jimin says mindlessly.

Both you and Hoseok complain with a loud whine, grabbing each other in fear.

“What the hell? Why are you telling me that?” you almost yell at him, scared to the bones.

“Seriously bro, why would you say that?” Hoseok whines, close to tears.

“I don’t know”, Jimin shrugs his shoulders, “it just kind of reminded me of the documentary.”

Hoseok tightens his arms around you, your own fingers clutching his shirt. Jimin studies your faces before breaking into loud laughter.

“I’m just messing with you guys. There was no documentary, I made it all up”, he wheezes, “you should see your faces, it’s hilarious”, he cackles, holding his stomach.

“Jimiiiin”, Hoseok whines, hitting Jimin repeatedly with a rag, “don’t. say. things. like. that. It’s not funny.”

Jimins laughter grows.

“I could fire you over that Park Jimin! If your cakes weren’t so damn delicious you would be out the door by now”, you hiss, only making Jimin laugh harder.

He sends you a quick finger heart before hugging you, rocking you from side to side.

“Sorry boss, please don’t be angry at me”, he sings sweetly.

You wiggle out of his arms, giving his chest a nudge.

“Go to work and deliver the best cakes I have ever tasted and maybe I won’t be angry with you anymore”, you tell him, earning a thumbs-up from him.

“I will boss, I won’t disappoint”, he says, storming off into the kitchen before Hoseok can throw the rag at his face.

“Don’t come back out for the rest of the day, rascal!” Hoseok calls after him, pouting.

The door swings closed, Jimin's giggles are still echoing through the tea shop.

“I swear to heavens this man just gave me the biggest fright”, you mumble, clutching your chest where your heart is racing.

“Same, I was so scared”, Hoseok whines, leaning onto the counter with his elbows to catch his breath. He looks at you, still worried slightly, “what are you going to do about that Min Yoongi dude though? What if he still turns out to be a creep?”

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know, we’ll see how everything will develop. Maybe he is actually nice and was just nervous to see me last night. I mean come on, everyone's a little weird when meeting new people. Can you still remember when you were even too scared to look into my eyes for the first two months of working here?”

Hoseok blushes, “don’t remind me boss, I was so weird back then.”

“See? And now you aren’t anymore, you just needed a little time to warm up to Jimin and me. Maybe my neighbour is the same and he is actually a pretty sweet guy.”

“I really hope he is”, Hoseok mumbles, turning his attention to today’s first customers afterwards.

Hoseok and Jimin wait for you tonight, both of them seeming still worried about you. Even Jimin, who had joked so cruelly about the whole situation, seems uneasy now that night has come. He watches you with hawk-like eyes when you lock the tea shop doors, following you to Hoseok, who is waiting by his Vespa for you and Jimin.

“Boss, I want to drive you home today”, Hoseok says confidently.

“What? Ah no-“, you shake your head, “-you don’t need to do that, I’m totally okay.”

“No, I really want to drive you home today and make sure that you are home safely”, he insists, already handing you his helmet.

“That’s a good idea hyung”, Jimin says, pushing you to Hoseok's Vespa by your shoulders.

“Guys come on”, you complain only to be silenced by Jimin putting the helmet on your head and fastening the chin strap.

“Seriously?” you ask him, cocking up an eyebrow at him.

He nods confidently.

“Yes”, he smiles innocently, acting cute on purpose, “please let Hoseok drive you home today boss, I’ll sleep so much better if you do. And you know how bad my cakes taste if I had a bad night’s sleep. Do you really want to sell disgusting cakes tomorrow?”

“I see, emotional blackmail”, you click your tongue, “fine, I’ll let Hoseok drive me home”, you give in with a loud sigh, climbing on the Vespa behind Hoseok and wrapping your arms around his middle.

Hoseok and Jimin exchange a proud look, probably giving each other that weird mental high-five they always do.

“See you tomorrow boss”, Jimin says, nudging your arm one last time.

“See you tomor-woah”, you squeal, tightening your arms around Hoseok when he suddenly drives off without warning.

Hoseok is probably the worst Vespa driver you have ever had the honour to drive with. It is not that he doesn’t know what he is doing, but he is driving like a maniac, speeding up and down the narrow roads as if they were highways. At some points you were scared he might even crash into one of the many house walls, but somehow he always manages to steer away in the last moment.

Your knees are wobbly once he arrives at your house and your heart is racing so quickly, one could have believed you ran a marathon. You get off, having to hold onto Hoseok's arms in order not to fall down.

“Where did you learn to drive?” you pant, making Hoseok blush.

“Why? I had everything under control don’t worry”, he mumbles.

“You weren’t even wearing a helmet, you could have died. You drove like a madman.”

“Hey boss, don’t worry. I honestly had everything under control”, he pats your arm, “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”

“Please don’t, I'd rather get murdered by my neighbour than having to drive with you again.”

“Hey”, Hoseok whines, pouting, “don’t say that boss, it’s making me sad.”

“Sorry”, you send him a quick smile, “still, you don’t need to do that Hobi, it’s such a big detour for you.”

Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care, your safety is far more important than me having to get up ten minutes earlier than usual.”

“You are so sweet, did I tell you that lately?” you give his cheek a soft pinch, making him blush again, “fine if it makes you feel better I’ll drive with you tomorrow again.”

“Yay”, Hoseok bursts in happiness, smiling so brightly it could be considered blinding, “see you tomorrow then. And don’t forget to lock the doors tonight.”

“I won’t, thank you for driving me. Sleep tight.”

“Good night boss”, Hoseoks smiles, putting on his helmet and getting on his Vespa. He gives you a quick wave and then he already off, driving off into the night like a madman.

[kjack89]

Sunday Spotted

For my bestie who remains strangely besotted with Deuxmoi.

E/R, modern AU.

“Congratulations,” Joly said, setting his phone down on the table next to Grantaire, who drained his coffee before leaning back and offering him a sardonic smile.

“Thanks,” he said, pausing before asking, “Though do I want to know why?”

Joly sat down across from him, his grim expression indicating that his congratulations had been sarcastic. “You made the Sunday Spotted,” he said, a little sourly.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “The…what?”

“Sunday Spotted,” Joly repeated, and when Grantaire just stared blankly at him, he sighed and added helpfully, “You know, on Deuxmoi?”

Grantaire blinked. “I know my French is a little rusty, but what in the hell is ‘Two Me’?”

“It’s not ‘two me’, it’s Deuxmoi,” Joly said impatiently. “It’s a gossip site on instagram. Like Page Six for zoomers and millennials. And one of their weekly features is called Sunday Spotted, and it’s where random people send in celebrity sightings.”

“Ok,” Grantaire said slowly. “But, uh, you know I’m not a celebrity, right?”

Joly’s scowl deepened. “You’re not,” he said shortly, swiping on his phone to find a screenshot before sliding his phone across the table to Grantaire. “He is.”

Grantaire glanced down at the screenshot, his bemused look slowly fading into something more like a wince when he saw the photo and the accompanying caption:

“Ah,” he managed, a little weakly.

Joly didn’t look surprised by his reaction. “Unless you want to tell me there’s a different anonymous dark-haired man that Enjolras could be canoodling with at your favorite brunch place…”

He trailed off, and Grantaire shrugged, conspicuously avoiding meeting his eyes. “Last I checked, he was single, so he can canoodle with whomever he wants to.”

“Yeah, but last I checked, the only person he’s ever wanted to canoodle with was you,” Joly said evenly.

Grantaire snorted. “He’s a congressman,” he said dismissively. “He’s probably got interns and lobbyists and closeted senators falling all over themselves to date him. And some of them are probably willing to schlep from DC to the best bottomless mimosa lunch in the West Village.”

“As willing as you are to make the schlep from Queens?” Joly asked archly. “Or are you really going to keep pretending it wasn’t you?”

Grantaire sighed. “If it was me – and I am not copping to that right now – why are you so worked up about it?”

Joly’s scowl returned. “Because this is different than when you and Enjolras were hooking up while he was working as a public defender. Enjolras is considered a rising star in Congress, and there’s bound to be media scrutiny on anyone he’s dating.”

“And you’re worried I would sully his good reputation.”

The sarcasm was practically dripping from every word, and Joly rolled his eyes, before starting, with a bite of impatience, “No, that’s not—”

“Because I don’t know if you realize, but Enjolras doesn’t need any help sullying his reputation, since he’s an independent somewhere to the left of Marx,” Grantaire snapped. “He’s literally the poster child of the liberal elite coming to take the Midwest’s assault weapons and Evangelical Christianity. He makes AOC look positively right-wing. So him having an illicit affair with some no-name bartender isn’t exactly going to do anything to sink his reputation any further.”

“And it’s not his reputation that I’m worried about,” Joly snapped, and when Grantaire blinked at him, he sighed and amended, “Or anyone’s reputation, for that matter.”

“So then what—”

“You really want to see your entire past dragged through the gossip pages?” Joly asked, his voice tight. “The arrests, the drug addiction, the rehab stint…?”

Grantaire swallowed heavily and shrugged, looking away again. “I mean, none of those are exactly a secret,” he mumbled.

Joly shook his head slowly. “But do you really want to read about it in the New York Post with your mugshot splashed next to a picture of Enjolras’s congressional portrait?” he asked quietly. “Is hooking up with Enjolras really worth all of that?”

Grantaire shrugged again. “Maybe it is.”

Joly sighed. “Grantaire—”

Grantaire met his gaze squarely. “Because maybe it’s not just hooking up this time.”

Joly’s expression flickered. “Did Enjolras say that, or is this just wishful thinking?”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Or maybe a little bit of both?”

But Joly didn’t smile, just sighing again before telling Grantaire, as earnestly as he could manage, “Look, you know I love you, and I love Enjolras, and there is no one in the world who wants you two to be happy more than me.”

“I don’t know, Combeferre might’ve given you a run for your money, once upon a time at least,” Grantaire said.

Joly ignored him. “But like I said, you’re no longer sneaking around and hooking up when the worst thing that could happen was Enjolras getting a slap on the wrist for associating with an ex-felon.” He took a deep breath. “So if there is any chance of being something more, or, frankly, anything at all, you and Enjolras need to have a conversation about what that actually means. For both of you.”

Grantaire sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he said, a little sourly. “Because if there’s anything that Enjolras and I are good at, it’s talking about our feelings.”

— — — — —

“Are you familiar with Deuxmoi?” Grantaire asked as he let himself into his apartment.

Enjolras glanced up from where he was reading the New York Times on the couch. “Is that a Franglish term for ‘fuck me’?” he asked, tilting his head back automatically for Grantaire to drop a kiss on to his lips. “Because it’s not a particularly good one.”

Grantaire waved a dismissive hand as he sank down onto the couch next to him. “No, it’s an instagram thing.”

“Right, because you know me, I am particularly involved with social media,” Enjolras said, already returning to the newspaper.

But Grantaire tugged it out of his hands, tossing it down on the coffee table. “You should be,” he said. “Per Politico, you’re one of the most social media-savvy politicians.”

Enjolras barked a laugh. “I happen to have a very excellent team,” he said, shifting so that he was facing Grantaire. “Once I told Courfeyrac he could have free reign over my Twitter account, I haven’t had to give it a single thought.”

“Don’t forget instagram and TikTok,” Grantaire murmured, leaning in to kiss him. “You’re a viral sensation.”

But Enjolras stopped him with a light hand on his chest. “Is this conversation going somewhere, or…?”

Grantaire sighed, sitting back. “We were spotted.”

“Spotted?”

“At the Musain,” Grantaire said sourly. “Someone submitted a picture of us – or, well, you, and a blurry shot of the back of my head – to a gossip site.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “I’m assuming this would be the ‘Deuxmoi’ in question?”

“Got it in one.”

Something darkened in Enjolras’s expression. “So, let me guess, Combeferre got to you? Gave you a stern talking-to about dragging me down and sullying my good reputation?”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Actually, no. It was Joly. And he wasn’t so much worried about your reputation as he was about, well, mine.” He shrugged in a way that seemed to be aiming for nonchalance. “Or lack thereof.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Neither do I, but unfortunately, this means we probably need to have a conversation that we’ve been putting off for, oh, ten or so years now.”

Grantaire said it heavily, and Enjolras went very still. “Let me guess, the ‘what are we’ conversation?”

“No,” Grantaire said firmly, reaching out for Enjolras’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “You and I know what we are. We’ve always known.”

Enjolras smiled slightly, lifting their entwined hands to kiss Grantaire’s knuckles. “Then what?”

Grantaire took a deep breath. “Are we doing this thing for real?” Enjolras froze and Grantaire swallowed before barreling forward. “Because you know that I am happy to be your anonymous dark-haired man for as long as you’ll have me. But eventually, someone’s going to figure out who I am. And while we may know exactly who we are and what there is between us, it is long past time we decided if we want the entire world to know as well.”

Enjolras wet his lips before asking quietly, “Do you want the entire world to know?”

“That’s not really the point—”

“It is,” Enjolras said. “It’s exactly the point. Because if you think that I’m the one hesitating, that I’ve been hesitating at any point of this past decade, you’re out of your mind.”

Grantaire barked a laugh before scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “That’s awfully ableist of you, Congressman.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “It’d be more so if you weren’t the one who describes your mental illness as, and I quote, ‘Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs’ to anyone who will listen.”

“Fair enough.”

“But seriously, I was ready to sign a disclosure statement with New York County back when I was in the PD’s office, acknowledging my relationship with a known felon,” Enjolras said, “especially someone whose only felony was for stopping a police officer from beating me to death.”

Grantaire’s expression darkened. “I did a little more than stop him.”

Enjolras didn’t bother arguing that point. “And you’ve never been arrested for or implicated in a violent crime since then.”

Grantaire sighed. “Fine, but there’s also the misdemeanors—”

“A couple of possession charges and one very memorable public intoxication charge, if memory serves,” Enjolras said dismissively.

“—And the rehab and everything else,” Grantaire finished. “Joly may not be worried about your reputation, but I am. I always have been.” He hesitated before adding, “Because if even if you and I know who we are and what we are to each other, that doesn’t change the fact that you deserve better.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “Maybe. But I want you.”

Grantaire eyed him warily. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying fuck Deuxmoi,” Enjolras said, with the kind of savage fervor he normally only saved for political speeches. “Fuck Page Six. Fuck Perez Hilton, if that’s even still a thing.” He squeezed Grantaire’s hand. “Let’s do this.”

Grantaire stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“Sure. The central theme of my reelection campaign was going to be about funding for community support networks to prevent recidivism in violent offenders.” Enjolras leaned in and kissed his cheek. “What better excuse than to talk about my personal support for a formerly violent felon?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly the poster boy for this. My privilege—”

“—Is exactly what’s important to highlight,” Enjolras said simply. “You had the opportunities and support you needed because of your privilege, and it’s why it’s vital to extend those opportunities and support to those without your privilege.”

Shaking his head slowly, Grantaire bit his lip before saying hesitantly, “I don’t know…”

“I’m also happy not mentioning you at all publicly, and just going on with our lives, but I’d rather we got ahead of the inevitable attempts at scandal.” Enjolras shrugged. “But it’s up to you. Whatever you want to do. Just as long as we can still be us, that’s all I care about.”

Grantaire hesitated before asking, “Will I have to move to DC?”

Enjolras laughed. “Fuck no,” he said, kissing Grantaire before adding, “Let me have the excuse to leave that swamp as often as humanly possible.”

Grantaire smiled, cupping Enjolras’s cheek with his free hand and running his thumb across Enjolras’s cheek before saying simply, “Then ok. Let’s do it.”

Enjolras grinned. “Really?”

Grantaire nodded. “Really.”

Enjolras turned his head to kiss the palm of Grantaire’s hand before saying, “Then I’ll text Courf. Have him start working on a statement.

He grabbed his phone to do just that, and Grantaire waited patiently for him to finish before tugging Enjolras into his lap. “Great. And while he does that, you and I can do a little work of our own—” He was interrupted by Enjolras’s phone buzzing. “You can’t tell me that he’s drafted a statement already.”

Enjolras just laughed. “Knowing Courf, he’s had a dozen different drafts on file just for this moment, but…” He swiped his phone open, his brow furrowing. “Ah. We’re going in a different direction.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Courfeyrac says there’s some kind of trending meme on Twitter that’s perfect for this. “

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Enjolras murmured, leaning in to kiss Grantaire. “I’m just going to take his word for it.”

Grantaire kissed him back before asking, “Will you at least let me see?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes but obediently handed his phone over. “Sure. He claims this’ll work.”

Grantaire frowned down at the picture on the phone before shrugging. “Well. Good luck with that.” He turned his attention back to Enjolras. “Now, where were we?”

He tossed Enjolras’s phone down without taking another look at the tweet that Courfeyrac had sent over.

[leossmoonn]

Play Ground Days

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - “ughh FINALLY someone that writes good imagines abt carl from shameless! could you write one where you two grew up together and you've always been close n stuff and then at some point he realizes he loves the reader and he talks to ian and lip (maybe mickey too bc i love him) about it? (fem!reader btw if that's cool) thanks babe xx” thanks for inspo on the beginning @poesflygirl​ <3 ,,, carl and you are 16 also pls dont come for me ive only played COD 2 times last year so lmao i dont remember a lot about it, enjoy!

summary - carl has liked you since you two were young, and seeks advice from his brothers and mickey

warnings - strong language, drugs and alcohol, little talk about bad body imagine 

————

*gif isnt mine*

“I fucking knew it!” Lip exclaimed.

“Why are you telling us? We’ve known this.” Ian commented, smirking at his little brother.  

“How the hell—” Carl started. 

“You’re not exactly great at hiding your crush on her,” Mickey chuckled. 

Carl’s eyes were the size of saucers. “You knew?”

“Of course I did. I’m not fucking Helen Keller,” Mickey rolled his eyes. 

Carl groaned and ran his hands roughly through his hair. “I can’t believe this. Well, secret’s out, I guess. What do I do?”

“Just go tell her you like her. It’s not like she’s going to turn you down.” Lip shrugged, putting his cigarette to his lips. 

“Lip!” Ian hit his brother’s shoulder. 

“What?” Lip asked. 

“You weren’t supposed to say that, dumbass,” Mickey said.

 “What does that mean?” Carl asked, looking in-between his brother’s and Mickey. 

Lip sighed. “Ah, shit, right. I’ve already said too much.”

————

4 hours earlier: 2:00 PM

“Hey, shit head!” She called out, throwing rocks against the window. 

Carl got up from his bed, shocked but happy to see her. He opened his window, leaning against the frame. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

She threw the rocks to the ground. “Escaping from my druggie dad, duh. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Carl shrugged. 

She did her signature smirk that always made Carl’s heart flutter. “Wanna go and stuff our faces at Patsy’s Pies?”

Carl’s eyes lit up at the mention of fatty, greasy food. “Hell yeah. I’ll come down.”

She nodded, going to the front of their house. Carl ran down the stairs, putting on his shoes and opening the door to find her on the steps. 

“Hey, why didn’t you just come into the house?” Carl asked, shutting the door behind him. 

“Putting damage on your window seemed more fun. Oh, hey! Do you have an extra bed I can sleep in tonight?” She asked. 

Carl nodded. “Yeah, of course. Your dad is that bad, huh?”

“Yep, he relapsed. Super fun,” she laughed sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry. That shit sucks,” Carl said.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s life. Anyways, ready to go?”

Carl nodded. They got into her car, the girl starting it and driving fast to the dinner. As she was driving, humming to the songs on the radio, Carl stared at her. She was absolutely gorgeous. 

Her name was Y/n L/n. Carl’s oldest and only real friend. They had grown up together, Y/n living only a few houses away from him. They had met in detention in 1st grade and had been close ever since. 

“What’re you staring at?” Y/n asked, glancing over to him. 

Carl blushed. “Nothing.”

“Alright,” Y/n sang.

Carl had often been caught staring at her. It was something he usually did from time to time, but now it was more often. He couldn’t help it. There was something about her. Maybe flawless her skin was, how pretty and bright her smile and eyes were, the way she would make him feel secure and loved, something he had never got from anyone consitently. 

He never really knew why he thought those things about her. People had told him that he probably had a crush on her, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had crushes on girls before and the things he was feeling for Y/n were a lot different than what he had felt for his past girlfriends. He figured it was just that she was his closest friend and he happened to be a horny teenager, so naturally, he just thought those things about her. But oh, how wrong he actually was. 

Y/n parked her car at Patsy’s Pies. They walked into the diner, seeing Fiona at the register. 

“Hey, Fi,” Y/n smiled. 

“Hey, Y/n, Carl! Long time, no see. How are ya?” Fiona asked. 

“Good, good,” Y/n smiled. 

“Good,” Carl said. 

“Great! Well, get yourself seated and someone will be right with you,” she smiled. 

Y/n and walked off to a small booth and sat down. They picked up the menus that were already on the table. 

“You gonna get your usual?” Y/n asked. 

Carl shrugged. “Maybe. Should I change it up?”

“Yes. The double bacon cheeseburger looks good,” Y/n said. 

“Are you getting that?” Carl asked. 

“Maybe. I’ll probably get a salad or something. Gotta watch those calories, you know?” She half-joked, putting a hand on her stomach. 

“I think you look good. You don’t need to worry,” Carl smiled. 

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carl nodded. 

Y/n looked back at the menu, hiding her embarrassment.

Carl complimenting her was something that was rare, but did happen. Y/n never remembered Carl as a romantic type of guy, but it seems that he had developed  those traits from having a few girlfriends. She liked that, actually. She liked him complimenting her, staring at her for minutes at a time, the way his ears would turn red when she teased him. She liked all of that. 

Y/n would never admit it to anyone, but she had a crush on Carl. She had a crush on him since their freshman year of high school. Well, in reality, she probably has always had one, but the first time she really realised she liked him was in biology when he got in trouble in one of the labs. She remembered when the teacher was yelling at him and he looked at her, smiling at her mischievously and winking at her. That wink had her heart racing and mind go foggy. From then on, she had liked him as more than a friend. Yet, she never said anything because well, as cliche as it was, she was afraid of ruining their friendship. He was really the only one who got her and who never abandoned her. She couldn’t lose him, so she just kept her feelings and gestures to him as friendly as she could.  

“Hi, I’m Carly and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you today?” The waitress asked. 

“Hi, can I get the philly cheesesteak with a medium coke and fries,” Carl ordered. 

Carly nodded and wrote his order down, turning to Y/n. 

“Um, I’ll get the bacon cheeseburger with a small sprite and fries. Thanks,” Y/n ordered. 

Carly took their menus. “Great. I’ll have your drinks out soon.”

Y/n and Carl smiled at the waitress as she walked away. 

“Hey, so I thought your dad was in rehab,” Carl said. 

Y/n sighed. “He was, but I guess his girlfriend got him drunk, then convinced him to do some lines. God, I can’t believe he's even with her still.”

Carl frowned. “What about your mom? Where’s she?”

“She’s going to nursing school right now. She’s the only one responsible in this family, yet she never calls or anything,” she scoffed.

“You’re really responsible,” Carl said. 

Y/n smiled. “Thanks, C. You are, too.”

Carl laughed, “Me? I sold drugs on the streets once.”

She giggled. “True. But you’ve really shaped. I'm proud.”

Carl smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Y/n hummed a ‘you’re welcome’. Carly came back with their food quickly and they dug in. Carl and Y/n spent their time talking and eating, spending about 2 hours there as they just kept talking. 

“Are you two finished?” Carly asked, gesturing to their empty plates. 

“Yeah,” Carl nodded. 

“Great. Here’s your bill, pay whenever you’re ready,” Carly smiled and took their dirty dishes. 

“Ready to go?” Y/n asked. 

Carl nodded and got out his wallet that he had in his shorts. Meanwhile, Y/n also got out her wallet. They both looked up at each other, awkward expressions on their faces. 

“Oh, I was gonna pay,” Carl said. “No, no, my treat. I invited you here,” Y/n said. 

“You sure?” Carl asked. 

She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Yes, I am, Carl.”

Butterflies irrupted in Carl’s stomach as she touched him. He nodded slowly, putting his credit card away. Y/n and him walked up to the register and paid for their meal. They then went back to Y/n car. 

“What do you wanna do now?” Y/n asked. 

“Wanna play COD Black Ops 3?” Carl asked. 

“Yes!” Y/n smiled. She drove them back to his house, parking haphazardly on the street. 

The two hurried into the house, grabbing a seat on the couch. Carl got the controllers, turning onto the playstation. Y/n logged onto her account, selecting the gun she wanted to use. Carl then started the game. 

“Where are you?” Y/n squinted her eyes at the screen. 

“Right behind you,” Carl smirked. 

Y/n turned around, gasping as Carl shot her. 

“Fuck you!” Y/n exclaimed. 

“Little rusty, huh?” Carl teased. She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you next round.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Carl said. 

“Winner gets to pick what’s for dinner,” Y/n said. 

“Deal,” Carl nodded. 

The pair played for a couple hours, the game ending with Y/n getting the last kill. 

“Good game,” she smirked, setting the controller down. 

“I forgot how good you were at this,” Carl frowned. Y/n giggled, “I forgot how bad you were.”

Carl rolled his eyes with a smile. “Alright, where do you want to eat?”

“Hm… Noodles n Company?” She suggested. 

“Sure,” Carl nodded. 

“Alright, I’m gonna use the bathroom and then order. Text me what you want,” Y/n said, getting up from the couch. 

Carl nodded and watched her go upstairs to use the bathroom. Then that’s when Lip, Ian, and Mickey all came into the house. 

“Hey, guys,” Carl said. 

“Hey,” Ian smiled. 

“Is Y/n here? We saw her car out front,” Lip said. “Yeah, she is,” Carl nodded. 

“Asked her out yet?” Lip smirked. Carl’s face turned red. “Wh-What?”

“Oh, you’re not in love with her then?” Ian furrowed his brows. 

“I… am I?” Carl asked. 

Ian chuckled. “Yeah. You always are always happy around her, blush whenever she teases you.”

“And you’re always staring at her,” Lip added.

“That doesn’t mean I like her,” Carl said.

“Do feel dizzy and nauseous when she touches you? Does your heart race when she gets close? Do you see yourself kissing her? Would you do anything for her?” Ian asked. 

Carl furrowed his brows. They were right, all those things did happen when she was near. She was his best friend. He also sometimes think about kissing her and being with her in a romantic way. And yeah, of course he would do anything for her. Maybe… Maybe he did love her. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “I… I guess I am in love with her.”

And that, ladies and gents, is where we left off. Lip, Ian, and Mickey teased Carl until Carl begged them for real help. 

“What do you mean?” Carl asked anxiously. 

Lip looked to Ian and Mickey for help on what to say. Little did Carl know, Y/n actually did admit her crush to someone. And that someone, or someones, were Lip, Ian, and Mickey. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Mickey said. 

“Did she say something to you?” Carl asked. “No,” Ian shook his head. “Like Mick said, don’t worry.”

“I… fine. Well, what do I do then?” Carl asked in slight distress.

“Give her some flowers and chocolate. Girls love that shit,” Lip suggested. 

“Alright,” Carl nodded. “I don’t know what her favourite flowers are, though.”

“Just get her roses. That’s really romantic,” Lip said. 

Carl smiled, “Alright. Awesome. Thanks, guys.”

He decided to get the flowers early morning tomorrow before Y/n woke up. 

————

Carl sneaked back into the house, hoping not to wake Y/n up. As he walked into the kitchen, he was shocked to see her at the table drinking coffee. 

“Hey, Carl!” Y/n smiled. 

Carl’s eyes were blown wide. “I.. uh…”

“Who are those for?” Y/n got up and pointed to the flowers and chocolate in his hand. 

“Um… you?” Carl said. Y/n smiled. “Me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Carl knew that he couldn’t make up an excuse. He was horrible at lying to her. So, he decided to just have his confession here. 

“I.. I’m in love with you,” Carl said. Y/n’s jaw dropped and she froze. “Wha-What?”

“My brothers and Mickey helped me realise I was yesterday when you were ordering dinner. They told me I should get you flowers and stuff so I did. I hope you like roses,” Carl explained and held up the gifts. 

Y/n’s lips upturned in a wide smile. “How long have you liked me?”

“Honestly, probably since we were little,” Carl shrugged sheepishly. 

Y/n giggled. “Me, too.”

“Really?” Carl smiled. 

Y/n waked up to him and took the gifts, setting them on the kitchen counter. She went up to him and put her arms around his neck. 

“Yep. I always have,” she grinned. 

“Oh, sick!” Carl exclaimed. “Oh wait.”

“What?” Y/n asked in confusion. 

“That’s what they meant!” Carl exclaimed in realisation.

“Who? What?” “Oh, Lip, Mickey, and Ian kind of told me yesterday when I asked for help,” Carl explained. 

Y/n’s eyes widened and she turned to the stairs, glaring. “Mickey, Lip, Ian! You better fucking run!”  

————

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