#and he couldn’t even wait for me to get them on before he started vacuuming

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

I HATE VACUUMS SO MUCH I WISH EVERY VACUUM A VERY DIE

[houndsclaw]

moon bend the knife

pairing: ieiri shoko/reader word count: 3181 rating: explicit warnings/tags: smut, established relationship, canon-typical discussions of violence, masturbation, strap-ons, tender sex, some emotional hurt/comfort. notes: for the end of 2023, have some tender shoko! title from perfume genius, some superficial references to the heart sutra and other buddhist recollections. this is diametrically opposed to my other shoko fic (or is it?). mostly unedited, completely not beta-read. There’s no rush here, you remind yourself. You don’t have infinite moments with Shoko— you may not even have tomorrow, the luxury of long life not the path you walk— but you have this time right now. There is more love here than curse. read on ao3

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So don’t,” Shoko says. She’s standing between your knees, toweling your hair dry for you.

It had been a bad mission. The way that leads to short life makes you yourself short-lived. With curses, survival was dumb luck as much as innate skill. Sometimes, you were standing a foot in the wrong direction. Today, it had been the right direction. You’d gotten out with nothing worse than bruised ribs. Your partner had not been as fortunate.

In the aftermath, Nanami had driven you to Shoko’s apartment. He had helped you get into the passenger seat of his car and fastened the seat belt around you when you couldn’t coordinate the movement. All you can remember from the drive is the rain sheeting down the windows, washing the smears of blood left from your hands. Nanami hadn’t even complained about the puddles of bloody water you had left in his car, or smeared across his nice shirt from your impromptu embrace.

You clear your throat, shake the thoughts out of your head. “Tell me about your day.”

“Corpses, mostly, but none of them were yours.”

Shoko whips the towel off of your head, leaving you blinking with your hair in your face. When you push the damp hair back from your eyes, she’s already turned away from you to inspect her face in the mirror.

You both know the state of the world you live in. The list of Tokyo veterans dwindles with every month that passed. It is human to hold pain close to the chest, and only more expected for jujutsu sorcerers. You see it in the way the lines drew tighter and tighter on Nanami’s face, the false cadence of Satoru’s laughter, Utahime’s dry eyes at every funeral, the deepening purple bags under Shoko’s eyes. Today, it hadn’t been you.

Grief is the most constant companion a sorcerer has. By nature, it makes you all a tricky breed. There’s a reason it’s easier for sorcerers to be solitary, distant, isolated— or, at least, to hold anything else closer than you held others. Satoru feels the emptiness of Suguru so keenly that he holds it even closer than Shoko. You had worked with your partner for a little over a year before today; there will be someone else waiting for you with the next curse. Maybe a student, maybe an auxiliary manager, maybe someone from Kyoto. Nature and jujutsu society abhor a vacuum. The empty space will be filled; it will never be full again. It never is full to start with.

As the sutra went: form is emptiness, emptiness is form.

Let me know when you get inside, Nanami had told you. Shoko had met you at the door, still in her wrinkled scrubs from the morgue. You were certain that if she hadn’t, his car would still be idling below until he received an all-clear. As soon as you had gotten into the apartment, Shoko had stripped you down in the kitchen and examined your wounds herself right then and there. Then, she had whisked you into the shower with her. All of the mud and blood had been scrubbed from your skin, leaving only the bruises as physical evidence of what you had survived.

You put your arms around Shoko, making eye contact with her in the mirror. “None of them were me,” you agree, voice soft.

After a second, Shoko turns in your arms, presses her face into your neck. Her sigh is warm against your jaw. You both smell like the expensive soap she buys, cypress and balsam. It feels good to stand like this, belly to belly, the sensation of her skin against yours a comfort.

It is a careful practice to think to yourself: I must be parted from whatever I hold dear.

Shoko maps her hands down the sides of your ribs, over your soft belly. It would feel clinical if you didn’t know her better. You know she’s tracing up the line of a laceration that would have killed you if she hadn’t gotten to you in time. The scar is old and silver now, thanks to her reverse cursed technique, but every now and then you wake up convinced your guts are spilling into your lap.

You wince as her touch moves towards the edges of your bruised ribs. A frown touches Shoko’s lips. Her eyes are fixed on your injured body, but she looks as though she’s far away. You could pass your hand in front of her eyes and you’re not sure she would blink. You think to yourself again: pain held close and dear.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc? How long do I have to live?”

To your relief, Shoko’s lips twist up into a wry smile even as she rolls her eyes at you. “You’re not very funny.”

You allow yourself a giggle, mostly of relief and dizzy exhaustion. “I’m a little funny.”

She pokes her finger into your bruised ribs. You squeak and jerk back. Point taken. “Jerk,” you tell her.

Her smile softens. This time, when she passes her hand over your ribs, heat fizzes out from her fingers. The edges of the bruising spread and fade: purple-black, green, yellow. She leaves them in that middle stage, an ugly green-yellow like a cat’s eye, but the worst of the tenderness is gone when you shift and twist to see.

This gift is greater than it appears. Shoko’s cursed energy is precious. She’s always on call, always ready for her phone to go off with the next horror story that will need to be triaged. It’s why the higher-ups keep her on campus and not in the field; she’s too valuable to lose in this war. When all else fails, she must remain. All sorcerers relive their grief, but Shoko has to dissect it. It’s easy for the jujutsu world to denounce Ieiri Shoko as cold, yet another special grade as distant as the stars, but you know that she is just another mortal woman.

You catch her wrist, press a kiss into her palm. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

Shoko touches your cheek. “Let me take care of you,” she says.

Some nights, you think you would say no. She works too hard, your Shoko, and it’s your honor to take care of her in a way that she doesn’t let anyone else. Tonight, there’s something in the way she’s looking at you, expressed in the way that she washed your hair and healed your ribs. This desire is something that would be cruel to deny her.

“Okay,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I’m at your mercy, then.”

That earns you another eye-roll and a nip to your bottom lip. As lucky as you are to be on Shoko’s leash when she deigns fit, that’s clearly not the mood she’s in tonight. That’s more than okay with you. You crave her touch, her warmth, more than anything. You’ve sat up with that desire many a night, let it scald you. Some of those nights, you think the only thing that burns bright within you is that want, that attachment.

Shoko’s apartment is replete with shadows at this hour. Only the kitchen light is on, banishing the darkness to the margins of the apartment. When you take a breath, you can smell the faint spice of incense. Shoko often burns tiny cones of incense or the fancy candles that Satoru furnishes her with. The scent marks her home like her cigarettes. The thought flashes to you with the smoke, tears stinging your eyes: there would hardly be enough left of your mission partner to cremate.

Shoko squeezes your hand. You blink, remember to let the air leave your lungs. Let it pass through you like the blood spiraling down the shower drain. You let her lead you to her bed.

It’s most likely a doctor’s consideration for her lover’s wounds, but at first, she lets you straddle her lap and bury her in kisses. You kiss down her neck, relishing the way she leans her head to give you more room, the soft sigh when you let your teeth close around her throat. Run your fingers through her damp hair, cup the weight of her breast in your palm, hold the gentle curve of her waist. You let yourself rest your tired head in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in the soapy, salty musk of her skin.

The rain pours down the windows of the apartment. There’s no rush here, you remind yourself. You don’t have infinite moments with Shoko— you may not even have tomorrow, the luxury of long life not the path you walk— but you have this time right now. There is more love here than curse. It’s hard to think of the woman cradled in your arms as anything but yours. You pause, let the desire wash over you, let it strip you bare.

Shoko steers you down against the pillows with a touch to your arm. She lets you situate yourself again her pillows— luxuriously plump, the silky sheets cool against your hot skin— before crawling back over you. She straddles one of your thighs, careful to keep her weight off of you, which is as frustrating as it is practically appreciated. You wouldn’t mind a little soreness if it meant being even closer to her.

Shoko kisses you until you’re breathless and pliant under her. Her tongue tastes like mint toothpaste. All of the tobacco has been scrubbed out of her teeth, her nails, her hair. Clean, stripped of armor and title and distance, starlight made heavy for you to hold.

You skim your hands across her shoulders, tucking her loose hair over her shoulder as her mouth moves to your chest. She sucks a kiss into the sensitive underside of your breast, her other hand coming up to cup the other. Shoko has always had a possessive streak when it comes to you. She grazes her teeth over your nipple and you whimper without meaning to, arching up to encourage her touch. Your ribs protest the movement with a sharp pulse, and then you’re whimpering for a different reason.

Shoko is quick to check: “Did that hurt?”

“I’m fine. But you might need to take care of me a little faster.” You affect a little yawn that turns jaw-cracking without your permission, your ribs twinging again with the great inhale.

Shoko shoots you a blazing look; you have the grace to be a little sheepish in return. There will be another time where she’ll let you push all of her buttons, admit to liking your teasing. Maybe tomorrow, when the violence of the day has worn its teeth on time. Shoko knows what you need; this is for her as much as it is intended for you. She needs to feel you here, hale and whole under her palms. There are many corpses in this time of wars, but you are not one of them.

When you give her shoulder a gentle tug, she comes up easily. You cup her neck with one hand, lean in to kiss the mole under her eye. “I’ll be good,” you promise, sweet and earnest, and press the same promise against her lips. “Take care of me, Shoko.”

Shoko lets you lick her mouth open. Sighs when you move your thigh just so against her bare cunt. You can feel that she’s already wet, which sends arousal zipping up your own spine. “You’re incorrigible,” she murmurs, but she makes it sound so fond you can’t help but smile.

Your breath catches as she takes your fingers into her mouth. Shoko sucks on your fingers as she rubs herself against your thigh, her thigh flexing against you in turn. Pleasure thrums through you like a well-struck chord, the pluck of a shamisen string. If this is what she wants, you are well-enough cared for. Then, to your chagrin, she moves back to sit on her heels. The hot weight of her gaze keeps you pinned in place, sprawled out in her bed. Her naked appreciation almost makes you want to hide, but you know better. You wonder what she sees hidden in the curves and lines of your body.

Shoko swings her legs off the side of the bed with a leisurely stretch, and then leans over you again. “Keep yourself occupied for me,” she says, emphasizing her words with her thumb tracing over your bottom lip. She drags your wet fingers over your cunt to underscore the command. Your touch is pale fire compared to hers, but you still moan as you roll your fingers over your clit. That intense urge for closeness, for touch, has your breath quickening, your cunt pulsing heavy with your own touch and the promise of hers.

You bite your lip as you watch her slip her long legs into the simple leather harness and tighten the straps against her hips. Shoko has always been beautiful, even tucked into her stark, shapeless white coat. She’s backlit from the warm light spilling in from the kitchen, she looks even more like a dream, built like a bough of a willow. Her dark hair hangs over her shoulder, cheek limned in light.

When she looks at you, you spread your legs a little wider for her. You hope she can see you wet and wanting for her. As she approaches, her shadow spills over you. She passes her hand over her cock, wet and shiny with lube. You know part of her choice slips inside of her, so she can feel what you feel mirrored.

“C’mon, Sho,” you urge her. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

You lay on your good side, arms open for her. When she settles next to you, you stretch your leg over her hip, wiggling to get the hard line of her dildo to rub just right against your clit. Shoko grunts at the pressure it puts on her, lips parting. You breathe in. Cypress and balsam soap, the salt and musk of her skin. She pushes inside you and you exhale against her jaw. There’s nothing but her.

You lay like that for a second, together, just breathing. The impatience has fallen out of you, just like that. Nothing but the two of you; nothing but form; nothing but that nothing. Her breath on your mouth tastes like a koan. You have never felt more alive than you do with her hands on you. Shoko shifts her hips, adjusts the strap; you knot your fingers in her hair, wait for her to move. She knows what you like, what you need. It’s a slow, tender rhythm, an undulation of her hips that builds pleasure in you like a wave.

You make no effort to muffle your moans. You clench against her cock inside of you, bumping your hips closer. Shoko kisses your jaw, runs her tongue along the shell of your ear, ducks down to nuzzle your shoulder. Then, she presses her forehead against yours. You’re pressed together, fitting all the way along your bodies. If you as much as twitch, the other feels it.

“Tell me how it feels,” Shoko says. It’s an order, if only a soft one.

“So good,” you tell her, arching into her and not minding the ache. “You’re so good, Shoko, treating me so well.”

Shoko kisses you again, teeth clinking together, unexpectedly desperate. You whimper into her mouth, clit grinding against the leather knots of her harness. It’s building up fast at this angle, cresting over you.

“Shoko, ‘m so close—“

“I know,” Shoko whispers, grinding her hips at that dizzying angle. Pressed this close, you can feel her heart pounding in her chest as if it were your own. “I know, let go for me. I want to see my pretty girl come for me.”

You had lied before: you do want to talk about it. You want to tell Shoko everything. You want to hold her closer than you’ve ever held anyone, keep her all to yourself. You hold the desire deep inside yourself, roll it smooth like a pebble in a river as you shake with her pleasure. Is it too much to tell her you fantasize of running away from it all with her? If you offered your hand, would Shoko take it?

You know it’s a moot point, at most another pipe dream that sorcerers hold in the privacy of their souls next to all of the grief. Attachment is the root of all suffering. I must be parted from whatever I hold dear. In the car, Nanami had told you he thought of retiring to a beach on Kuantan where there would be no such thing as curses. Neither of you can abandon your duties like that. What matters is that you’re here with her. The moment will pass like the rain, but you will share it nonetheless.

You must have been a saint in your last life to end up here with her.

Shoko fucks you through your orgasm, her breath stuttering as she presses her forehead against yours. You keep your thigh stretched up over her hip, whispering incoherent encouragement into her mouth, take what you need, I’m here. When Shoko comes, it is with a sound that is nearly a sob.

You stay curled together, slick with sweat, listening to each other’s breathing slow. Finally, she rolls away from you, tugs the harness and strap down her legs and kicks it to the end of the bed with an uncharacteristic lack of care. She tosses a delicate wrist over her flushed face, her other hand wrapped around yours.

The rain is still pouring outside, stained-blue pattering down the window. It will rain through the night, through the next day. There is a pile of bloodied clothes in the kitchen that will need to be dealt with come morning. At some point, your phone or hers will ring and bring you back to your duties and promises. Emptiness and form. Shoko’s apartment may not be Malaysia, is certainly not free from the ravages of the cursed world, but you can stay here a while.

Golden light pours over Shoko’s shoulders as she leans in to press one last kiss to your lips. Then, she’s twisting away from you to open her bedside drawer. There’s the click of a lighter, and an exhale. Smoke swirls up in the light; sweet, haylike tobacco eclipses the cypress soap. With her shoulders set against the darkness from the window, Shoko looks very far away. You reach over, tracing your fingers down her spine. She shivers. Then, she falls back with a gentle thump against the mattress, cigarette still caught between her lips.

When her eyes meet yours, you think that to her, there is never any distance between you. You don’t need any words. 

“If you set the bed on fire, I’m breaking up with you,” you threaten.

Shoko chuckles, voice raspy. “Yeah, yeah,” she says. “I love you too.”

[discount-shades]

Contract Spouse Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Crashing

A/N: So Chapter 8 was split into two chapters. The series will be 10 chapters long so I am getting close to being done writing! 

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning:  Angst,  

Length: 2400 ish

Summary: Pip makes a decision about her relationship with Jake, and Jake’s feelings regarding spinach are revealed. 

Previous     Masterlist     Next

You had pizza for dinner, and you hadn’t made cookies. Jake had tried to convince you to watch a movie together but you couldn’t do nothing. The anxiety embedded in you from your childhood would not let go. 

Logically you knew Jake was nothing like your parents. He had said multiple times he was not mad at you, nothing about his actions indicated he was upset with you in any way, but you could not let it go. You hadn’t felt like this in years. The urge to smooth things over and make it better consumed you and you couldn’t shake it.

When Jake had been unable to convince you to stop he had joined you, turning the Bluetooth speaker on to Texas country. He helped wash the few dishes from dinner, humming along to the song playing. He vacuumed the area rugs while you swept. Whatever you did he was there assisting.

He finally catches your wrist as you start to reorganize the drawers in the bathroom. “Pip it's after midnight.” You stare at the hand on your wrist. His grip is gentle, thumb gently caressing the inside of your wrist. “The house is clean and it's time for bed.” 

You finally look at him and his eyes are soft, worry lingering in them. He backs up and gently tugs on your hand and you follow him. Your heart clenches at the hopeful smile and the relief on his face. He had been shooting you worried looks all night and you can see the tension leave him. You change in the bathroom, your room still under repairs from the water damage.

When you reach the bedroom Jake is still hovering by the side of the bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” 

“No Jake, it's ok.” You crawl under the covers and pat the spot beside you, feeling ashamed by your behavior all night. “I’m sorry for tonight. You shouldn’t have cleaned too. It's a ‘me problem’.”

Jake hits the light and plunges the room into darkness. You feel the bed dip as he lies down beside you. “Well you weren't stopping and I figured it would be more efficient if I helped you clean.” Your lips twitch at his words as the bed shifts. You can tell he is facing you on his side and you turn to mirror him. “You kinda freaked me out today.”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, feeling even worse.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Jake's hands slide across the space between you. His fingers brush against yours and slowly tangle together like he is waiting for you to pull away. He brings your fingers to his lips and gently kisses your knuckles as traitorous butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I want you to tell me what happened. You were so upset then you were so blank and it scared me.”

“I don’t know.” You lie, unsure of what else you can say. “The interview kinda got to me.”  You couldn't explain the way your brain panicked after you pushed him and there is no way you would explain why you were mad. You wouldn’t tell him that when he called you Darlin’, your heart broke. That you were sad he didn’t love you like you loved him. It made you feel pathetic. 

It felt like the story of your life, loving and wanting to be loved by people who didn’t love you back. At least Jake was better than your parents, even though in the end he would probably hurt you worse.

“Just promise me you won’t leave me.” Jake's voice is strained in a way you have never heard before. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“Do what without me?” Your voice drops further, afraid that if you spoke too loudly it would break the fragile thread between you.

“Life, existing, I don’t know.” He pauses like he is searching for words. “Pip, I love you.” You fight to keep your breathing steady at his words, wishing there was some kind of light so you could see his face. He has said it before, but tonight, in the dark, he sounds different. Your heart beat increases as hope fills you. “You know me, and even after the divorce I need to know you will be in my corner. I need to know I’ll still be able to call you.  You’ll always be my best friend.”

At his final words the spark that had filled your chest dies. “Yeah Jake,” you agree, keeping your voice steady. “I’ll always be there for you.” At your words he pulls you into his arms and you go. 

Legs tangled together and his arms around you, you lie there trying to drift off, knowing Jake won’t sleep until you do. That his brain won’t let him rest if there is someone else awake in the room. Another way you know Jake like no one else does. Unwilling to move away and unable to deny yourself the intimacy you crave, you stay. After all, this is all you are ever going to get.

– – – 

You awake the next morning feeling overwhelmingly warm. Jake’s chest is pressed against your spine, his nose tucked against you and his breaths flutter the hairs at the nape of your neck. 

It’s too hot and you want to move but you don’t. Judging by the light filtering in through the curtains Jake’s alarm will go off soon and he will leave you then. It’s a Saturday so you have the day off but Jake has a training flight. 

When the alarm finally rings you wait for the inevitable loss of warmth but Jake just reaches over and turns it off before wrapping himself back around you and nuzzling into your neck, raising goosebumps. 

“How did you sleep?” you break the spell of the peaceful morning with your words. Jake hums and rolls onto his back, you shift with him so you are propped against his side but he doesn’t leave like before. 

“Good,” he tells you, “really good actually.” You smile at his admission and toss the covers off so your body can feel cool air and Jake copies you. He asks you about your plans for the day and you lie together talking about everything and nothing like you used to on the phone. 

It’s you who leaves the bed first to start the coffee and part of you feels more relaxed after your lazy morning. It had been nice to lie next to Jake and talk about your day but it made you realize what you truly wanted. You had been so caught up in your unrequited feelings for Jake that you had never taken a moment to think of what you were looking for in a relationship. And despite everything you feel for Jake you realize that while he might love you, he wasn't in love with you, and it was no longer enough. You decide it’s finally time to start letting go of your love. 

– – – 

When you look at your ringing phone and see Javy’s contact information you frown. You had spoken to the man a few times over the years but he had never contacted you for a  social call.

“Javy? What's up?” Your stomach clenches when you answer the phone.

“Hey Pip,” Javy’s voice is strained. “There's been an accident, Jake crash landed in the desert.”

“Is he ok?” you hate how small your voice sounds. 

“They’re taking him to the hospital. I’ll meet you there. Wives are allowed.” He says the last part pointedly and you know that he is hinting that as Jake's wife, you are expected to be there.

“Yeah, of course.” You would have gone to the hospital even if you weren't married to Jake. “Text me the hospital and I will meet you there.”

Traffic seems to slow the closer you get to the hospital. You can’t stop nervously tapping the steering wheel of the used Rav4 you had bought the week after moving. Your mind catastrophizes everything that might happen. Jake is paralyzed, there’s internal bleeding, traumatic brain injury. Jake dies. 

When you are able to park you sprint to the front desk. “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, he's a pilot, where is he?”

The nurse gives you a compassionate, yet reserved look. “May I ask your relationship to the patient?”

“I’m his wife.” The words fall from your lips easily. They are words you have barely spoken in all your years of marriage and have become increasingly common the last few months. 

She directs you to a different floor and when you arrive you see Javy, still in his flight suit, broad shoulders tense, pacing the waiting room. When he sees you he wraps you into a hug. “He’s in surgery,” he says, releasing you. At your look of horror he amends. “It’s for his wrist, he fractured it, probably has a concussion, but he's going to be ok.”

You sag in relief and collapse into a chair letting out a shuddering breath. You stare at your hands and notice for the first time that they are shaking. You squeeze them together until your knuckles turn white, trying to hide the trembling from Javy when he sits down beside you. You take deep breaths and slowly the shaking stops. 

“He’d be happy you are here,” Javy says and you smile. 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you say with a tight smile. “What happened? How did he crash?”

“There was some sort of electrical malfunction, he couldn't make it back to the tarmac so he landed in the desert.” You wince thinking about it and Javy continues. “He broke his landing gear off the plane so he must have hit pretty hard.” You nod and sit in silence, waiting. 

“He’s gotten worse.” Javy says in a low murmur, breaking the silence. You are sitting in the corner of the nearly empty waiting room but he still glances around. “After the last mission, I don’t know, he’s different, on edge, even before the investigations. I don’t think he’s sleeping.”

“He’s not.” you say before amending, “At least not well.” 

Javy sighs and you give his hand a squeeze and stare at the door to the operating rooms together. The two people who looked out for Jake while he looked out for everyone else. “He’s gotten better too.” 

You look at Javy frowning, “how?”

“After the last mission, I dunno, it humbled him.“ Javy shrugs. “Made him more of a team player, less closed off. Less of an ass.” You smile. In the few times you had met Javy he had always made jokes about how you were too nice for Jake, but you never saw it. He was never an asshole around you. “You’re good for him.”

The grin on your face turns bitter. “Spinach is good for you too, so is exercise.” 

“What’s your point?” Javy is frowning at you and though you feel guilty for bringing it up with Jake in surgery, you are so emotionally drained over the last two days that your walls are down. 

You have hid your feelings for Jake away for so long it is second nature. There has never been anyone you can tell. And there is still something stopping you from outright bearing your soul to Javy. 

“I’m not going to be someone's spinach forever,” you say following the analogy. “I want to be the gooey chocolate chip cookie that you want because it makes you happy and the bad days better, not the spinach that you keep eating because it is good for you.”

Javy is silent beside you and you begin to spin the ring around your finger again. You have no idea if Javy caught on to what you were trying not to say and a part of you is past caring. Eventually Javy breaks the silence, “Jake likes spinach, and exercise.”

You sigh sadly, “I know he does.”

– – – 

When Jake is out of surgery you and Javy both get to see him. He is groggy and doesn’t do much more than mumble hello before the doctors advise him to sleep. Javy sits with you a while before a nurse insists that only one of you can stay. Javy leaves you with a hug and you curl up into the chair next to Jake’s bed.

Part of you regrets your promise from last night, that you would never leave him. You wouldn’t for good, but after the divorce you would need to go away for a while. You are staring out the window when you hear Jake's scratchy voice. “I thought I dreamed you were here with Javy.”

You pour some water into a cup and hold the straw for him. His one arm is in a cast and the other has an IV. You hit the call button the nurse had told you to press when he woke up. 

“I’m glad you stayed.” His voice is less scratchy and still heavy with sleep, but there is a little smile tugging on his lips. 

“I’m your wife, of course I'm here.” You smile at his groggy expression and gently squeeze his hand 

“No, I want you here for me.” His smile drops, “it's not fair, but I do.” The nurse and doctor come in and you step back to let them work, mulling over Jake's words.

They keep Jake in the hospital a few days and you call out of work so you can sit with him. Mostly he sleeps but when he is awake you talk about the little things, Javy’s upcoming wedding, the house repairs, but never anything to do with your relationship. You are sitting next to Jake when Cyclone arrives. Jake goes to shift his posture and the man waves him off. 

“Are you his wife?” You frown at the brusque question but nod. “Do you intend to stay married to him?” You nod again and Jake squeezes your hand. You glance at Jake, unnerved.

“Well in that case, Lieutenant Seresin I am ordering you to attend marriage counseling every two weeks for six months, with your wife.” He drops a list of counselors on the foot of the bed. “After that, and you are cleared medically, you can fly again. If you are quick about it, most of your time in counseling will coincide with your recovery.” 

Your jaw drops and Jake nods. “You’re getting off light on this Seresin. Mess around again with another vindictive woman and it won’t go well for you.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jake salutes from his bed and Cyclone leaves just as abruptly as he entered. 

“I think he just strengthened our case.” Jake says.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter II

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

Bob takes you out and lets you in after a(nother) moment of weakness.

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

A/N: The mannerisms of Steve are based off of my sweet, derpy, old pup. She helped pull me out of my crippling postpartum depression and welcomed me back, forgetting I hadn’t just ignored her for the year prior (I was barely able to take care of my newborn, I wasn’t taking care of myself and I couldn’t fathom mustering up enough energy to even pet her, trust me, I still feel bad about it). She is the best.

Warnings: mentions of asshole ex boyfriends, negative thoughts (thanks to asshole ex boyfriend), smut, etc.

Bob waited until you were in your apartment and turned the lights on before taking off. Hes bubbling with different emotions as he drives home. He’s smitten, obviously. He’s never met a girl like you; so beautiful, witty, passionate, funny. He’s baffled that someone like you is interested in him. Then the embarrassment creeps in…he came in his pants like a fucking teenager, but relief since you didn’t laugh or make him feel worse. In fact, it had seemed you liked it. He can’t stop thinking about you whispering how you wanted to blow him the parking lot and then sucking your fingers…Damn it, he was hard again.

He sighed as he unlocked the door to his house. Even though his sister would come once a week or so to get his mail and check on the house, it was stale and stuffy. He opened the windows in his room and got in the shower.

___________________________________________

You overanalyzed the entire night while you showered, every look, every conversation, every touch.

You started and deleted a text to Bob several times before finally hitting ‘send’ and turning your phone over while you put your pajamas on.

Sunny: Thanks again for handling that jerk and following me home. I’m also sorry things got a little heated too quickly. I haven’t dated in years, but I don’t do that on the first date. Or, pre-first date I guess.

A few minutes later your phone dings.

Bob: You’re welcome, I’m just glad you’re okay. No worries, I liked it (obviously lol). Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow.

Your stomach flutters and you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s okay. He’s not Derek. He doesn’t think you’re a whore. It’s okay for two consenting adults to do these things.

Sunny: I can’t wait either. Goodnight.

Bob: Sweet dreams

___________________________________________

You sleep until 9 and it feels amazing. You pick up a little in case Bob comes all the way to the door and get ready. He said to dress casually so you don a pair of shorts again with a favorite oversized band tee and a pair of Converse. It feels weird to be putting normal clothes on 2 days in a row, you pretty much live in scrubs or pajamas.

Bob knocks as you’re putting your hair up. As you open the door, you’re greeted by a fluffy gentleman sitting oh so patiently, his tail is giving away his excitement by going a mile a minute. “Hey there cutie. You must be Steve, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sunny.” You say, crouching to pet him. He’s so soft, and his wet nose tickles as he sniffs you.

You rise and take in Bob. He looks good enough to eat in a worn pair of Levi’s and a gray tee. He hands you a bouquet of fresh flowers. “We stopped at the farmer’s market on the way, thought these were pretty,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, the tops of his ears turning red.

“They’re gorgeous. Thank you. Come in, I’ll put them in water.” You smile.

“We can wait out here, he sheds a lot”. Bob replies.

“Oh gosh, don’t worry about it, I grew up with pets and have a vacuum.” You insist, pushing the door open wider.

“Alright,” he agrees. As he brushes past, you notice the slight bruise you sucked into his neck last night and your cheeks heat. Embarrassment or arousal? You weren’t sure.

“Nice place,” Bob says looking around. Steve is sniffing everything in sight.

“Thanks, it’s small but it’s got everything I need. I’ll eventually look into buying a house, but I’m comfortable here for now” you say, trimming the ends of the flowers. “Where’s your place?”

“About 15 minutes from here, by Valencia Park” he replies, looking at the pictures hung on your walls

You nod while filling a mason jar with water and place the flowers in it, setting it in the kitchen window. “Perfect. Thanks again.” You kiss his cheek. “Hey, what’s that on your neck?” You tease, lightly brushing the bruise with your fingertips.

He blushes again and chuckles. “Must’ve burnt myself with the curling iron”.

You laugh, “Is that so? You should really be more careful.”

“You’re telling me. All set?” He asks.

“Let’s go” You nod.

___________________________________________

You watch Steve take the stairs down while you lock up. “That is impressive, is there anything he can’t do?”

“No, not really. I help him in and out of the truck bed because it’s pretty high, but he’s adapted way better than I would’ve expected. Oh hey, my truck is just a regular cab, so there’s no backseat. I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll want to sit in the middle, or Steve will be on your lap. He insists on being by the window, one way or another.” He says as he unlocks it, stepping aside to let Steve through.

You climb on next to Steve and squeal as he immediately goes for your ears, sniffing and huffing with his wet nose again.

“Sorry, he’s pretty polite, but he has a thing for ears,” Bob grins as he gets in seat beside you.

You laugh, “I don’t mind, he’s so sweet. I’m just ticklish”.

Bob pulls out of Penny’s driveway and you’re off. Once he puts the cruise on, he relaxes his leg, resting it against your bare one. Goosebumps rise at the feel of his rough jeans against your skin. Down girl.

“Where we going?” You ask.

“There’s a quiet, dog-friendly beach up there road here, it’s Steve’s favorite place. I packed some lunch too” he replies, slowing to turn into the parking lot.

“That sounds great” you answer.

Steve realizes where he is. His front paws start tippy-tapping and he whines, hardly able to contain his excitement.

You laugh, patting him. “Almost there buddy”.

___________________________________________

Steve zooms along the shore as you and Bob put down a thick blanket. You three are the only occupants, save for an older man with an older dog a couple hundred yards down the beach.

You sit cross-legged and Bob comes to stretch out beside you, handing you a sandwich. You both laugh as Steve attempts to stalk some seagulls, but panics and tucks tail back when they start chasing him. He hides behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. You give him a smooch “You’re okay, I won’t let them get you. Those gulls are mean, huh?”

Bob tells you stories about Steve while you eat, making you laugh at his antics. He pulls his phone out and shows you a picture his sister snapped last night of Steve tucked into the sleeping bag between two little girls, all three wearing sleep masks. “Guess he slept like that all night” Bob chuckles.

Steve eventually sneaks his way between you two, laying his chin on your knee. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” You say, softly rubbing his forehead. Bob chokes, his thoughts immediately turning dirty at your words. You bite your cheek so you don’t smile, pretending you don’t notice.

“Did you bring a ball or anything to play fetch with?” Bob nods, grabbing a frisbee from the bag.

___________________________________________

You three play for a while, the sun warming your arms and legs. It feels good to be outside. Bob tosses the frisbee towards you and Steve, but the wind catches pushing it behind you. Steve’s too focused on it to realize where he is and knocks you off your feet.

“Oh my God, Sunny!” You hear Bob yell running over. “Steven! Watch out buddy, give her some space.”

You can’t answer, you’re laughing too hard. Steve’s in your ears again, sniffing, huffing, and licking. Your laughter makes him more excited, and he zooms away as soon as Bob gets to you. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. I can see why you love him so much, he’s quite the character.” Bob holds his hand out to help you up. You take it but tug him down instead. He lands with a surprised oomph. You pull him to you for a kiss. He stiffens for just a moment, caught off guard (again) but relaxes into it. You kiss slowly, lazily. You suck his tongue and groans deeply. He’s hard, pressed perfectly against the seam of your shorts right where you need him. “You feel so good” you murmur against his lips. He twitches against you.

Out of nowhere, you feel frigid saltwater slide around you, soaking you both. The tide came in. You squeal and Bob chuckles, the moment gone. Probably for the best, you don’t really want an indecent exposure on your record.

He helps you to your feet. “My place is closer to here, we can get cleaned up and dried off there if that’s okay?”

You nod, wanting to get out of these wet, sandy clothes ASAP.

_______________________________________________

Bob grabs some dog shampoo from his truck and you help him lather and rinse the sand from Steve. “I know it’s a pain with his fur, but he loves the beach so much. It’s worth the extra work to me” you nod, agreeing. You towel him off, unable to stop kissing his wrinkly forehead. Bob lifts him into the bed of the truck and leads him into the kennel he has secured. “I know it’s not the safest, but I only put him in here after the beach. It helps him dry and he loves the wind in his face.” He explains.

You give him a quick kiss. “He’s lucky to have you Bob, you’re a great dog-dad”.

You both towel the sand off the best you can before getting in yourself. “I’m sorry about your truck, I can help you vacuum it” you offer.

“Don’t worry about it, my neighbor's son details cars for extra cash and is always looking for business. I always give him double after beach days.”

“That’s sweet of you.” You reply, sliding into the middle seat again.

“You don’t have, I mean you can sit there if you want but—“

You buckle your seat belt. “I know. I wanna sit by you.”

He nods, a little pink staining his cheeks, “Alright”.

___________________________________________

A few minutes later, Bob pulls into a cute, navy blue bungalow. “This is it”.

“I like it, it’s cute.”

You laugh as Bob helps Steve out of the truck bed. His fur is fluffy from the ride.

Bob leads you into the house. It’s tidy, with a minimalistic and cozy design. It smells like him—like clean, fresh laundry with a hint of leather.

He shows you to his bathroom, handing you a towel, he turns to leave. “If you want to leave your clothes outside the door, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine before I shower”.

“Will do, thanks.”

He shuts the door behind him. You carefully undress, trying to not fling sand everywhere. You turn the water on and set your clothes outside the door, purposely leaving your lacy bralette and thong on top to tease him.

You’re lathering your hair for the second time when you hear a knock. “You can come in. Sorry for taking so long, I can’t get the sand out of my hair.”

Bob freezes. He’s been half-hard since he put your pretty underwear in the wash, but taking in your naked silhouette against the frosted glass has him at full mast instantly. “It’s okay, no uh…rush. I have some clothes for you when you’re done. I’ll put them here on the counter”.

“Thanks, I’ll be out soon” you smile as he closes the door. You probably didn’t need to arch your back and stick your tits out like that, but his reactions to you are just too good.

___________________________________________

A few minutes later, you towel dry your hair and take yourself in the mirror. Bare-faced, nipples that could cut diamonds poking through his worn ‘US Navy’ tee, and rolled sweat pants. You look like a slob, you only wear makeup and straighten your hair when you go out, always trying to look good for other guys, you can hear Derek words in your mind.

You push him out of your head as you hang up your towel and open the door.

___________________________________________

Bob fumbles his phone as he takes you in. Curly, wet hair, perky breasts gently bouncing under his shirt as you pad over to him.

He reaches out and brushes a curl by your forehead. “I wondered if your hair was curly after it got wet at the beach. It’s pretty. Do you always straighten it?”

You nod, throat thick as you answer. “Yeah, my ex didn’t like it, thought I was ‘attention seeking’ when I would wear it natural, probably because someone usually commented on it. He uhh, he thought everything about me was ‘too much’; I laughed too much, I talked too much, I hugged too much. We broke up months ago, but I’m still trying to find myself again.” You look away, feeling vulnerable.

“Sounds like he’s an idiot. You could never be too much, Sunny. Your hair is beautiful no matter how you wear it. Everything about you is beautiful.” Tears fill your eyes as and he turns you toward him, kissing you sweetly.

You kiss him back and things heat up quickly. His hand slides into your hair fully, while the other goes to your waist, pulling you into him. He can feel your nipples brush across his chest and his cock twitches. He brings his hand up slowly, but as he reaches the underside of your breast, the doorbell rings, startling you apart. “Oh, I ordered pizza. I got half cheese, half everything so you can put whatever you want on. I hope that’s okay” he says as he turns, trying to discretely tuck his erection into his waistband so he doesn’t scare the delivery driver.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. I like everything but anchovies and mushrooms.”

“Agreed, I’ll remember that for next time” he says as he opens the door.

Hmmm, next time? You like the sound of that.

___________________________________________

You both dig in, having a beer each. Steve sits nearby, politely begging with his eyes.

You tell him about yourself. How you were always getting into trouble as a kid since you were quite the little adrenaline junkie, always looking for a thrill. About how you wanted to be a naval aviator like your old man, but you couldn’t put your mom through that, especially seeing the toll it took on Carole when Bradley joined. You tell him how you thrive in chaotic environments and by doing flight nursing, you could combine your passion for flying and help people. He takes in your every word, listening intently.

You settle in on the couch after for a movie as you wait for your clothes to dry, Steve draped across your lap, fast asleep as you rub his ears. “I knew he’d love you.”

You smile, “He’s a sweetheart.”

Bob puts his arm around you and plays with a curl by your ear absentmindedly. He pulls a little and you shiver as your nipples harden. “You cold?” He asks, looking down at you.

You shake your head, dropping your gaze to his lips. You lean forward, capturing his lips with yours. You moan into it, you’ve been worked up too many times since last night without relief. He licks into your mouth, pushing his hand into your hair farther. Your right goes to his chest, sliding up to brush your fingertips over the bruise from the night prior again. He inhales sharply, breaking the kiss. “Steve, buddy, go to bed, okay?” He asks him breathlessly, eyes not leaving yours.

Steve hops off with a heavy sigh, walking towards the bedroom.

You rise to straddle him, leaning forward to bite his bottom lip before kissing along his jaw. You slide your hips forward until you trap his cock against his stomach. His breath hitches in your ear at the contact. You smile into his jaw as you slowly start moving your hips, up and down, rubbing your clit against him.

You let out a breathy moan and his grip on your hips tightens. You kiss up to his ear and lightly nip the lobe. “You’re so big, I can’t wait to have you inside me”

Bob lets out a strangled groan at that. His hands release your hips and slide back to your ass, squeezing a handful in each palm, pulling you harder into his cock. You groan against his ear before pulling back and whipping his shirt off of you.

Your bare tits are level with his face. “Sweet Jesus” he whispers, bringing his hands up from your ass to cup one carefully in each hand. “They’re perfe—you’re perfect,” he says in awe. You should get a boob job, no guy likes less than a D cup, you hear Derek's voice again, but Bob brings you back to him by circling your nipple with his calloused fingertips.

You whimper, “Keep touching me, please. Just like that, and this” You bring your hand up to gently pull and pinch.

His eyes drift shut with a groan, the sight of you playing with your tits is too much. His erection throbs against your hip as he nods, continuing his ministrations. Your hands go to his shoulders for leverage.

You work your hips faster, already hurtling towards the edge. He leans forward and gently sucks your nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.

You whimper, “Almost there” as your orgasm approaches.

Bob pulls back at the sound, replacing his mouth with his fingers, and groans as he feels you soaking through both pairs of pants. His hips jerk up, chasing your warm, wet heat. He’s getting close too. You moan and your hips stutter as his tip catches your clit just right. He takes your hands and places them on your tits, and drops his back to your hips to guide them. You pinch both nipples as he thrusts and that’s all it takes.

You cry out as your orgasm sweeps through you. Bob takes you in, trying to commit the sight and sounds of you to memory. Eyes closed, flushed cheeks, hands playing with your perfect breasts, your hips undulating against his…it’s enough to pull him over the edge. He groans, hands gripping bruises into your hips and he cums too, coating the inside of his pants (again).

You lean down and place a kiss on his damp forehead. His face is flushed, and he won’t look at you.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, I—I’m good. I uh, I think we should talk.” He replies and a cold wave of shame washes through you. You did too much too fast. Again.

Bob feels you stiffen on him. “No, hey, no it’s nothing you did, it’s not anything bad, I don’t think, I just,” The dryer dings from down the hall, signaling your clothes are dry. “Hey, let’s get cleaned up and I’ll explain.”

You nod, still uneasy and follow him to the laundry room.

___________________________________________

You meet Bob back in the living room, wearing your clean clothes. Mmm, you smell like him.

He gestures for you to sit by him. You can tell he’s nervous, or embarrassed. Maybe both.

“So you know how I told you I’m not good with women, dating, and all that?” You nod. “Well, I meant it. I haven’t dated much. The longest relationship was 2 years in high school. We fooled around a bit, but never went all the way since her family was strict Catholics and she was saving herself for marriage. We broke up after I joined the navy cause she didn’t like long distance. I’ve dated a bit here and there, but it never lasted long as it’s difficult to keep a relationship when I was moving around so much and deployed so often. So…that’s why I was uh…a little quick on the draw last night, and not much better today. You’re gorgeous Sunny, so that doesn’t help either.”

You nod, and can breathe a little better in relief. You’re starting to understand. “Bob, it’s okay. I knew you just got off the carrier after 4 months. It’s…it’s also been a long time for me too. I think that’s why I can’t keep my hands off you, not to mention how good you look in those Levi’s” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Bob’s blush deepens and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh yeah, except that I haven’t, I’ve never…” he stammers.

You realize what he’s trying to say, your stomach flips and your pussy clenches. Oh the things you’re gonna do to him.

“Bob, are you a virgin?”

[onlyhereforangst]

chenford + 20 hehe #onlyhere5angst

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

“Tim!”

It wasn’t the volume that gave her pause, no. Or even the person on the other end of the voice. It was the pleading yet resolute tone that Tim came out with. The thread of argument all but vanishing by the end of the short name.

The begrudging acceptance of whatever had been said right before was unnerving. Had her feet glued to the old linoleum and hand suspended midair, hovering over the handle of the slightly cracked office door.

“Don’t, Lopez.” It wasn’t angry or even combative. Tim sounded absolutely exhausted, truly sick and tired of whatever they’d been hotly debating. With that sigh she knew all too well, the one that seemed to reach his toes, sucking every molecule of oxygen from him, he continued, “You know better than most, that is career-limiting.”

Career-limiting.

They could only be-

The air seemed to disappear into a vacuum, her chest tightening as the words ‘career-limiting’ weaved their little letters around her ribs and twisted. Cold sweat pricked her upper lip while her palms were pressed against a burning stovetop.

Career-limiting.

“…she could always,” Angela was saying, even if Lucy’s ears were ringing louder than a cathedral at noon in the Italian countryside.

A tsk left his lips before Lucy could manage a breath, “she’s too low. It’s not just limiting, it’s career-suicide.”

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in her mind, and fuck if that wasn’t the goddamn problem with her. She never delivered under pressure. She choked. It’s a miracle she wasn’t dead given her profession.

Well, she swallowed a derisive chuckle, it’s not like she had the best track record there.

Her heart begged her to move, to get out now, get out before she heard more she clearly wasn’t meant to. But that’s just the rub, isn’t it? This was the truth. This is how Tim actually felt about it all. Not that bullshit, I could never be disappointed in you nonsense.

Of course he was disappointed in her. Who wasn’t in her life?

Trick question- no one.

“…she’s just telling herself she wants this, Angela.” While Lucy’s world had been imploding inches away, the grenade of conversation had maintained life, “She thinks it’s what she’s supposed to do. What people expect of her. What people will be proud of her for.”

Angela cut in, “and you don’t?”

Every nerve fiber hung on his next words, her skin itched to get out of that same skin.

“I-“ he’d started firm, “I-, I don’t know,” and ended almost feebly. That exhaustion sound had creeped back in, “All I know is, she needs someone that isn’t me...”

What the fuck did that mean??? Lucy visibly repulsed from the door. Boot squeaking just enough the voices inside the office paused.

Shit shit shit.

She backed away faster than she would’ve thought capable of her cement-laden legs mere minutes ago. Angela and Tim’s voices had resumed but with each passing step they became more and more muffled. Till she couldn’t tell if it was their tense whispers or her own inner monologue playing them on a loop.

Career-limiting.

Too low.

Career-suicide.

Supposed to do.

Isn’t me.

Suddenly 17th felt less like a setback and more like a sentence.

Sentenced to spend the rest of her life chasing the perception of perfect in the wrong race.

Someone that isn’t me.

Through the kaleidoscope of tears she managed a quick text, visiting a friend tonight- don’t wait up.

And the phone was powered off before someone that isn’t me could even consider replying.

[chvnssecret]

Taste

warnings - suggestive content - soft dom!minho - sub!reader - face grabbing - soft choking - lots of praise - mentions of ‘i love you’. mentions of fingering and cumming.

**

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself. Pouring rain was a complete surprise to your day, seeing as the sun was shining earlier in 23°C heat. The sky fell dull and the air became sticky as it poured harder. Your feet splattered against the floor in a desperate attempt to get the laundry inside. “Fuuuuck you mother nature!” You gritted through your teeth slightly. Unfortunately for you, your clothes had completely soaked through to the bone, making them cling to your body as if they were vacuum sealed.

“Need a hand?” Minho must have just returned home from work just at the right time. A sarcastic look was given back to him as if to say ‘no shit’. He grabbed a large pile of the laundry from your arms as you rushed back inside to lock the door. “I look like a drowned rat.” You pouted and slouched your shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a sexy rat?” Minho joked with a laugh, flickering his eyes up and down your body. You were curious as to what he meant, noticing your breasts looked rather prominent due to the wet clothes. In embarrassment, your arms immediately found themselves crossing over your chest. Not for long; Minho removed then gently, admiring your chest in full view.

The atmosphere became thick from the perverted stare he was giving you, edging closer together slowly and finally clasping your lips together. You moaned into the kiss as you noticed it getting deeper and extra licentious. He backed you up against the wall, wrapping his long fingers around your throat slightly. You threw your head back as he kissed all over your neck and chest, legs moderately becoming weaker by the second. The two of you had moved from the wall to the kitchen counter. He raised you up without any effort, standing between your legs and still kissing you fervently. “Have you been a good girl today?” His voice was husky and so sexy that you couldn’t wait for more. “Always am for you.” You didn’t want to wait for dirty talk, you just wanted to cut to the chase. With a singular hum, he slid his digits down your legs and hooked your panties to the side.

One swift movement and he had slipped his index finger inside you; your back arching in response. “Mm, so wet for me baby. Such a beautiful girl for me.” He hummed into his kiss as you nodded along to his words. Before placing your underwear back, he slipped another finger in, stretching you out further. “Now. Want you.” You gasped as his fingers removed themselves from your heat. He wiped your juices along your thigh, leaving it shiny and sticky. His belt was off in seconds as his jeans fell to a pool around his ankles. He lined his tip up with your hole, throwing your legs over the inner corners of his arms. The counter wasn’t the most comfortable place ever, but it was the perfect height and allowed him to hit your sweet spot in all the best ways.

He slid in slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth. You were rested on your hands as your head threw back in lust. Minhos hands had a firm grip on your hips, bucking into you at a steady pace. “So good, so fucking good.” You moaned as you saw complete darkness. “Look at me, baby. I wanna see that pretty face.” His hand reached up and grabbed your face, pointing it towards him. Even in moments like this, he’s so gentle and it makes you love him that much more. His thighs slapped against the back of your legs with each thrust, feeling his full length inside of you. With each curve, he hit your g-spot making you moan. “I love hearing you. Louder.” He demanded and started to go faster. You didn’t mean to, but his name slipped from your mouth in a desperate attempt of trying to cum. “That’s a good girl.” He praised; making your cheeks flush red. “I’m gonna come.” You whined, tightening your legs around his back. “Mmm, wait for me okay? I’m close. You’re doing so well.” His cock began to throb inside of you, signalling he was about to release. Your legs trembled at your orgasm, as your bodies fell closer and foreheads were touching. “I love you.” He breathed out in a puffy state. “I love you too, Minho.” You kissed his nose.

[yellowhollyhock]

early morning, day 14

nightwatcher raph

He had a routine that was working pretty well. As long as he was headed home by 4 am, he’d be safely in bed and by all appearances asleep before Donnie was up making breakfast.

Donnie’s breakfasts were horrible—he knew just enough about nutrition to put way too many elements into one meal, and absolutely nothing about flavor. But Mikey’s gigs were usually in the evenings, so it was hard for him to get up early. He’d make a big lunch and save the leftovers for dinner. Raph should’ve really been making dinners while Mikey covered lunch, but that would require having Donnie’s eyes on him in the evenings. He was already playing it risky. Better just let them think he was a bum.

Some mornings—like this one, when the streets were quiet—which only ever happened thanks to him—he’d head back early and do what he could.

The challenge was, he didn’t necessarily want them to know he’d been cleaning. He tried to do things quietly that Mikey would assume Donnie did and Donnie would assume Master Splinter did. Wiped down counters, dusted the living room, took out the trash.

They needed to vacuum, bad, but he couldn’t really do that without waking anyone.

So, he changed the vacuum bag and cleaned out the brushes. He was trying to decide if he should leave it out or not; on the one hand, it was evidence, but on the other hand, it was more likely to get vacuumed if the thing was right in their way.

When had they all gotten so burnt out? Had Leo really been pulling that much of the housework?

“Thanks for doing that.”

Raph startled, glancing between the exhausted form of his brother and the oven clock declaring 4:57. He refocused on his task, clenching his jaw in irritation.

“Donnie. What are you doing up?”

Instead of answering right away, Donnie padded towards him, sliding out a kitchen chair and settling down to watch him work.

“Gotta make breakfast soon.” He gestured at the vacuum, “Meant to get to that.”

Raph grunted and refused to look up. As the minutes ticked by in silence, he started to get antsy.

“What are you watching me for?”

“You don’t know that I’m watching you. You’re not even looking.”

Raph glanced up, and found Donnie was in fact staring, almost mesmerized, at the inside of the vacuum. In other words, he was watching him.

“You just waiting for me to mess up?”

“I don’t know how you could mess up cleaning out a vacuum.”

“Yeah, well—what are you doing up so early?”

This time, Raph looked at him. Looked hard, at the circles under his eyes, the slump in his shoulders, and most of all, the way he turned out to be just as shy about eye contact as Raph was.

“We got a letter from Leo yesterday.”

Raph’s heart sank. It should be a huge relief, but something in his brother’s fragile tone suggested otherwise. “Oh?”

“He sent it from Hawaii, but he said he wasn’t staying long. He’s probably headed to South America. Wasn’t too detailed, but at least we know he’s alive.”

Raph clicked the vacuum back together. “Anything about being late?”

“Nope. Which for me pretty much confirms he just lost track of time.”

“By two months?” Raph sneered, startling himself with the venom in his voice. It wasn’t Donnie’s fault. He needed to calm down.

It was a bit infuriating when his companion just shrugged. “He’s been through different timezones, and it’s not like he has a calendar. I’m sure we’ll see him soon.”

“Yeah. Right.” Raph couldn’t begin to explain the twisting feeling in his gut. He could find a post office, but not a calendar? Donnie might he ready to accept excuses, but Raph wasn’t.

He finished winding the cord back up, and hesitated.

“You can leave it out,” Donnie said softly. “I’ll vacuum later.”

He wanted to take that as an invitation to retreat to his room. But he could see his brother’s mind working, and he couldn’t really just leave.

He wasn’t like Leo.

He took the seat across from Donnie, and waited.

“Yesterday,” Donnie’s tone was deceitfully matter-of-fact, “Mikey asked me if I thought Leo was staying away on purpose.”

He glanced up to see Raph’s reaction, and he tried to give none. He didn’t do too well; he couldn’t help a scowl. “What’d you tell him?”

Donnie traced one of the table legs with his finger. “I told him I didn’t think so.”

Raph shifted in his seat, leaning across the table. “What do you think happened?” He really tried to make it a question and not a snarl. Just because he’d given up on Leo didn’t mean his brothers had to.

Donnie finally looked him straight in the eye. “I told Mikey that our brothers would never leave us. That we’re a family, we’ve only ever had each other, and as long as we possibly can be here, we would be.”

Raph narrowed his eyes, refusing to hear the reprimand. “And?”

Donnie sighed. “And that Leo probably just lost track of time.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes, turning only just away to hide, even though it must have still been obvious, that he was crying. “How long is that excuse gonna last?”

There was a long, hard silence between them. Then, like a final judgment, his brother’s soft tone ended the conversation.

“Usually until about 5:15. What do you want on your omelettes, Raph?”

He had to adjust his routine after that. He didn’t know what Donnie thought he was doing, but he clearly wasn’t buying sleeping all the time. He would have to come back a little earlier, make sure not to be caught like that again.

He didn’t know at the time that he’d need to keep it up for another ten months.

[rainbowchewynuggets]

TMA Encore #11a

The group walks timorously through the tunnels with Not-Martin. Sasha has the map this time. Jon and Tim bring up the rear with Tim holding the flashlight. Martin, in the middle, cautiously occupies the space between them and Not-Martin. He has the second flashlight.

Not-Martin recounts the day he and Not-Jon first realized they had a second chance and a duty to prevent the apocalypse. They reasoned that if they couldn’t stop what had happened to their world from in the thick of it, they would have a better shot coming at it from the outside. They had tried to be subtle at first, so as not to disrupt the lives of those involved. Despite their best efforts, it ended just as badly as before. So, they tried again and have been trying ever since. They became more and more adamant until they were inserting themselves right in the middle of things–with little more success. It took them a long time to figure out how the rules they knew applied to their situation. They hadn’t realized there was a new consequence for overtaking avatars.

NM: I couldn’t feel it until his hold over it started to slip. By then, it was too late.

Silence fills the corridor as the team studies Not-Martin. They let his story settle into the air, waiting to see what he’ll say if he thinks it wasn’t enough to convince them. He says nothing and keeps walking, not even looking at them.

Jon: But the Fears aren’t controlling him. That’s not how it works. He’s doing this himself.

NM: It’s the pain. Without an entire world of people to feed on, the Fears are starving to death. They pass the feeling on to us to motivate us. I don’t think they’re picky about which of us gets to be their avatar at this point, but Jon’s been keeping their attention on him this whole time.

Sasha: Why?

NM: To spare me and hold himself accountable for what happened at the end.

Sasha: No, I mean… I can understand pain making a person a little irrational. But this is so premeditated and extreme.

NM: That’s the problem. He thinks that he’s mastered it. So he takes warning signs as encouragement. To feel assured that he’s still himself.

Martin recalls the time he spent with his mother through her chronic illness. She had often worded it exactly that way when he couldn’t get her to rest. Not-Martin slips a knowing glance at him.

Tim: And manipulating and tormenting people is just part of retaining his fundamental character, apparently.

The words are already out by the time Tim remembers Jon is walking right beside him in the dark.

Tim: I just–I meant that he didn’t have to do it this way.

Not-Martin doesn’t reply.

Martin’s double further exposits that Not-Jon can’t be allowed to pursue his goal any further than he already has. Even if he does manage to prevent the apocalypse, the vacuum created by the consumed avatars would inevitably be too much. He would fully succumb to the need to satisfy his hunger.

Tim: And he’ll, what, become as big a fear monster as Jonah?

NM: Oh, he’s already a lot bigger than Jonah. I’m terrified to think what that much power would look like manifested. That is, if he doesn’t die first and leave it all with me.

Tim: Joy.

Sasha: So, what’s your solution?

NM: Convince him to share the burden with me and entomb the both of us in the nearest, deepest hole in the ground before anything else can happen.

Tim: So, your original plan. Which you’ve tried before?

NM: Many times.

Tim: And why will it work now?

NM: Because it’s the only option. It’s just a matter of trial and error.

Tim: Uh-huh. Then again, if you’re a Fear ghost like him, then we shouldn’t be listening to what either of you say, should we?

NM: *shrugs* I’d agree if I didn’t know that my Jon has it a hundred times worse than I do. Your odds with me are much better.

Tim: Which could be a lie.

NM: If it were, you’d have no reason to believe any of what I’ve said so far.

He answers the interrogation readily and casually, though not as if he’d rehearsed it.

Jon shakes off his precaution to ask a burning question.

Jon: Am I really what makes things fall apart every time?

NM: I’m sure that my Jon would like you to think so. It’s much more complicated than that. He’s just punishing you for things you haven’t done yet.

A little irritation creeps into his voice. It’s also the first plainly obfuscated thing he’s said so far, Jon notices.

Jon: It never made a difference to remove me from the equation?

NM: Again, it’s complicated. We ended up agreeing not to.

The group continues to ask questions about the details and history of the situation, especially things that Not-Jon prescribed to them as truth and things that he refused to tell them. Not-Martin answers all of it politely and patiently enough, giving no sign of duress or deception. There are no earth-shattering revelations. It only cements the places where Not-Jon and Not-Martin’s perspectives overlap. Whether or not he’s telling the truth, it’s comforting to get clear answers without the immediate pressure to cooperate for once. In fact, it gets Sasha’s attention.

Sasha: Are we… expected to help in your plan?

NM: No. It doesn’t really matter what any of you do from this point forward.

They ask him to elaborate. He says that their part in Not-Jon’s plan is over. In scenarios where they stay in the tunnels or the archives, they’re penned so that they can’t interfere. When they leave, they’re unable to change the outcome at all and are left to deal with Jonah’s machinations once he escapes. There’s nothing they can do.

Tim: Wait, yes we can. Don’t we still have the lighter?

Everyone turns to Jon. As he wraps his fingers loosely around the device still in his pocket, he feels the tiny piece of plastic he took from Jonah’s office. He nods.

Tim: If the fuse is long enough, we could light the dynamite on our way out and do away with the lot of them while they’re chasing each other around down there.

Not-Martin scratches his chin thoughtfully.

NM: I can’t say it’s been done before. But I won’t object as long as I’m down there with them.

Sasha: Have we tried it before?

NM: Yes.

The group’s optimism deflates.

NM: Sorry. I’m not sure what gets in the way. I don’t usually stop to talk to you guys.

Martin: Have you come close before?

NM: Very.

Martin: How? It sounds like he’d be untouchable at this point.

NM: Because he can’t scare me. None of this does anymore.

Martin studies his counterpart. It’s not just talk. He’s steady. Dispassionate, but not overly calm. The determination with which he described his task betrayed a steep understanding of the consequences for failure. Yet, he approaches the ordeal ahead as if going to do laundry. It’s kind of terrifying. Martin feels like he’s watching an alien creature walk around with his face painted on it. His memories inside it. Although, wouldn’t it make sense to need an alien to combat an alien threat? He wonders if this is how Jon felt meeting his other self.

He checks on Jon, who has his eyes turned toward the tunnels as they pass. Martin just then notices how deep and rhythmic the murmuring noise has become. Almost like chugging movement.

~

The group arrives at the dynamite area. There are still boxes strewn about with leftover materials in them–including plenty of fuse that could be tied on. The tunnel leading out is situated opposite some others that lead down to the Panopticon. The four of them nonverbally determine that it’s time to decide whether to stay or go. Meanwhile, Not-Martin examines the prison remains, looking for anomalies.

The vote is not as quick as before.

Martin, unexpectedly, is the one to pipe up first. He wants to stay and try to stop Not-Jon. He feels that the stakes are too steep not to try. Tim and Sasha argue against it, and he defends his choice. Not-Jon could easily stop the dynamite from working just as he stopped them from escaping. Whether Jonah escapes or doesn’t, they’re likely doomed if they just leave. They’re stuck no matter what. He doesn’t want to feel like he didn’t try to push back when he could have, especially after everything Not-Jon has put them through already. At the very least, it would give him another thing to have to manage.

Martin’s voice shakes even as he says it out loud, but he manages to hold himself in place.

Tim is quick to remind him that they don’t have a hearty reason to trust Not-Martin. Martin proclaims that he might then be trying to get rid of them. The one thing they can say for certain is that Jonah and Not-Jon are too dangerous to be left to their own devices.

His anxiety prompts him to keep talking, but he makes himself leave it there.

Jon quickly says that he’s staying too.

The others fall into silence. Sasha visibly wavers in two minds before letting out her breath.

Tim: Sasha, no.

Sasha: Yeah, I’m sorry. I think I’m with Martin. But just barely.

She says she’s getting tired of trying to take the safe route on purpose, only for them to wind up getting separated and nearly killed anyway. If there is no good sane way out, as Martin had said, their only way is through.

To be fair, Tim does look at them as if they’ve all gone insane.

Tim: I’m not saying we do nothing. Even he knows it--*gestures at Not-Martin* --we’re not gonna be able to do anything about this if we’re in the middle of it. If the dynamite doesn’t work, we’ll find another way.

NM: No, you won’t.

Tim: You be quiet.

Try as he might, Tim can’t convince them to change their minds. He stands there, unable to follow but unwilling to leave them behind to die.

The vague rumbling ramps up and draws close. The walls around them begin to shift, but not like in an earthquake. Stone and cement slide frictionlessly over one another with heavy clicking sounds. The floor is perfectly stable aside from some vibrations. The walls of the exit tunnel and the one they came from advance inward, herding the occupants further into the junction of passages. Not-Martin glares at someone who’s not in the room.

NM: Oh, goddamn it, Jon.

Jon leaps through a nearby passage before it closes.

Goddamn it, Jon, Martin thinks.

The others move to catch him, but there isn’t enough clearance by the time he gets there. The clamorous stone is so loud, they can’t hear each other. But they can make out Jon mouthing “I’m sorry” in the feeble light of the spider web lighter just before the gap closes.

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

Next

Prev

First

(I forgot what I was doing and gave Sasha the second flashlight in the third page. Pretend Martin has it.)

Index

[hinacu-arts]

Finally started on

Beloved Bi Crisis - The Fic

So here's the first 700 words of draft one, as a little treat for all of those who followed me here on tumblr. ❤️

.

Casey woke up with a groan. He pushed himself up off the cement only for his arms to give out and drop him right back down.

“Uhh, guys? I think he’s waking up.”

How did Casey get here again? Where was here? And why did his body feel weak? Oh yeah, some new mutant got ahold of some kraang portal tech and was ranting about alternate counterparts and timelines and a bunch of other things Casey didn’t really understand. He remembers the mutant snuck up behind them and managed to kick Donnie and Mikey into the portal. There was some fighting and… oh that’s embarrassing. Casey tripped on some cables and fell into the portal. There was colors everywhere and the feeling of a vacuum and the sounds of Casey’s screams. And now he’s kissing pavement. First order of business, come up with a story that leaves him with some dignity by the end. Second, sit up.

“Hey, buddy, you okay? You kinda fell out of the sky and landed pretty hard-”

“Dude, you belly-flopped on the concrete. It was like something out of a cartoon. Oh, Donnie, please tell me you somehow recorded that-”

“Guys, focus. Leo, did he hit his head? Does he have a concussion?”

Casey had managed push his forehead into the ground and pull one of his knees up and in like some kind of inchworm. He was currently trying to scrunch his other leg in.

“I mean, probably? He fell like sixteen feet.”

“Leo.”

“What?! How would you like it if some stranger started giving you a medical exam before you’ve even fully woken up?”

There was a groan. Casey ignored them and slipped his forearms under the space he’d made before successfully pushing himself into a half sitting position. He moved his head the rest of the way to see… mutant turtles?

They were on a rooftop. The rooftop and the buildings surrounding it seemed to be purple instead of boring old gray. There was one shelled figure standing up on the ledge, facing away from Casey and looking down to something in his hands. There was a huge turtle, like seriously huge, his arms were thicker than Casey was wide, dragging his hands down his face and looking up to the sky like God could help him. Next to him, lounging like a moviestar on an old pool chair, was a much smaller turtle with colorful markings or paint on his skin. Last was the smallest turtle, who was flittering around Casey like he wanted to help but had been told couldn’t get to close. He was also covered in colors. Everyone was wearing wrappings up their arms and legs, similar to how the guys and Splinter did, but these wraps were black. Everything they wore was black except for colored cloth that was wrapped around their heads… colors in almost the exact same shade as Casey’s friends.

“Who are you?” Casey’s croaked out. His voice was hoarse and quiet, probably from all the not-screaming he had just done, “Some kinda wanna-bes?”

The big one gestured at him, “Good, he’s awake now. Now check if we need to drop him off at a hospital or something.”

“Geez, geez,” Stripes hopped off the chair and walked to Casey before dropping down to kneel next to him.

“Wait!” The colorful one called out.

Stripes froze, “Why?!”

“Dee said not to touch him until he was sure he wasn’t radioactive or anything.”

All the turtles looked to the dark figure on the ledge. Casey shifted into a more comfortable sitting position, his body no longer trembling under his weight.

“Thank you Angelo, at least someone listens to me,” The figure turned and stepped down to the roof before walking into the light. Casey rubbed at his eyes. Now that he was regaining his senses, he couldn’t help but notice this turtle was wearing, and rocking, thigh highs. Casey glanced around and took note at how humanoid these turtles looked. Maybe they were humans turned into turtles? Instead of turtles turned into humans like Casey’s friends?

“He’s clean. There’s dimensional energy from his world and any worlds he may have passed through, but it’s harmless to us. If my scans are correct, and they usually are, we are looking at dear Casey’s alternate universe counterpart.”

“What, like, Spider-Man multiverse stuff?”

“The exact same!”

[lake-archive]

Secret Note

Disclaimer! While I wrote this and many other Izumi/OC oneshots to be able to be understood in a vacuum, I recommend reading Alte Liebe Rostet Nicht for further context!

Izuann Masterlist (!!-Era)

AO3 Link

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Characters: Izumi Sena, Original Character

Pairing: Izumi Sena/Original Character (Izuann)

Words: 1,194

Summary: Nyeli had found something in Ann’s room which had been addressed to Izumi yet she never delivered it. It was a note from some time ago… A horrible attempt at a poem. And yet… It is amusing in its own right.

When having first been approached by Patch out of nowhere Izumi had not thought much of it. Patch was a playful kitten… Or the equivalent of one. Even though he had been growing non stop recently. And just when Izumi had found time to make Patch’s clothes a size bigger he started to grow out of them yet again. That in itself was annoying because it meant that he needed to get yet again a bigger set of clothes… But it was something which couldn’t be helped. Because apparently Patch has a sudden growth spurt. Maybe that was in his nature or something yet that it had to happen now of all times… 

Regardless, the kitty was still small enough to be easily picked up and it was something he did with no hesitation, having assumed that he wanted to play. Izumi had even asked him what game Patch felt like playing now. As long as it was something simple he wouldn’t mind. He had a bit of a break to spare.

And yet, it was not a game the kitty was after. He had even shook his head several times before pointing at him, nub nearly touching Izumi’s own nose. “Brothnya!” He began, sounding overly serious and even his face attempted to look as serious as possible. Honestly though, it was more adorable if anything. So much so that it was hard to take it seriously. And yet, if one were to crack a lighthearted smile, the kitty would most likely just pout. ‘ I have something important to discuss! Don’t laugh! ’, these may as well be his words. Though it was so hard to hold back when looking at him.

“What is it?” He asked, the tiny cat–human(ish) hybrid still in his arms. Patch’s ears wagged over and over, then poked his big brothnya’s nose over and over with his own nub before finally using both of his tiny nubs to search for something inside one of his pockets. A moment later he would hold up a piece of paper… Well, it looked somewhat damaged, in awful shape. And yet, Patch insisted on Izumi taking it from the looks of it, even pushing it against his face. Luckily the paper wasn’t dusty or had any type of dirt on it, or he would have probably gone for a scolding at the very most. “H… Hey! Be careful! Or—”

“Sisnya!” Patch interrupted however. “F… Fro… From Sisnya!” Huh? Sis– From Ann? Wait, did Patch also somewhat say more then— 

“Ann?” Izumi repeated however, confused by this alone. Couldn’t this woman just ask him herself if she needed something? Besides, were they still kids in school or something? Sending notes like this… Did she not grow out of something like that!? Then again… This in itself was weird… Ann leaving a note like that and letting Patch deliver it. 

“Read read!” He insisted however, not stopping to poke the older male with the paper, over and over. It would not stop until he would pick said paper up. So, without having much of a choice left…  

“Fine fine! I will I will!” He said, eventually managing to put Patch down so he could read this note… Whatever this was about. Well, he was about to find out.

“ Burning Desires

Whenever I look at you I want to… To… 

I cannot put it into words

The desire is too strong

Words words words

Words are not enough

It’s burning so much that it almost hurts!

Oh if I just could… I just could… 

If I could just turn into dust! Right this second!

You set me on flames! And I don’t know how to handle this!

Burn me to ashes! 

My desire is unbearable! ”

This was… Something. Izumi had no words as he read every line, every word. Was this an attempt of a poem? Was that it? Well, it was… Something. To say the least. A poem… Yeah, this was a poem alright… Some weird poem but a poem nonetheless. But hey, at least it wasn’t on the levels of William McGonagall or something. But it was still… Not great. In fact, it nearly made Izumi burst out in laughter when reading it. He couldn’t hold it in, he had to chuckle at least a little bit. 

This poem sounded so dumb. Wasn’t she embarrassed? Actually, she probably was, given the state of the paper. It seems to be a little older after all. Though why had Patch delivered the note to—

Oh right, one glance at the back and one would be able to read who it was addressed towards. The name on the back of the paper? It was written in a mess, one could just barely make out the kanji. Just very barely… It was an attempt. This entire note was an attempt of its own.

An attempt at writing a poem which conveys a mess of emotions. What was she even trying to say in this poem? Oh it might be very easy to tell what this was… A funny attempt at confessing? Heh, this girl… 

Talk about pathetic sometimes. Yet it can be part of the charm.

[milkywaygg]

A Papa's Fears

AN: I’ve finally gotten around to writing again after not being able to sleep (3 hrs before work too rip) but I couldn’t wait around to write this. Mama Cosma in this is VERY different than the one I normally write her as, so you can consider this non-canon to my AU (or not even part of) if you like. I’ve just been going through a huge writer’s block lately, plus my Splatoon addiction doesn’t help lol. But I’ll try to post more often. Anyways, enjoy! Also MPREG is involved in this fanfic as most of my work is, so if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, this isn’t the story for you.

Mr. Cosma sighed a breath of exhaustion as he slunk down on the vibrant, purple couch: the weight of his belly finally overcoming him. Taking off the pink apron that he had sported ever since his wife had left for work that morning, he took a long look around the house, satisfied with his work. Every unused outlet plugged up, the kitchen counters and doors covered with child locks, furniture dusted, floors vacuumed, baby-gates installed. All that was left was for his wife to come home and help him install carbon monoxide detectors and make sure fresh batteries were placed in the smoke detectors.

The longer he sat around and looked however, he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing, but he couldn’t remember what it was. The cleaning supplies had been moved from the kitchen sink to his and his wife’s bathroom, the nursery was set up, and he had just about checked every aspect of the house, MULTIPLE times. What could he possibly be missing? As he shuffled around the couch to look over the living room for the hundredth time, he let out a yelp as a glowing, gold light ignited, forcing him off as he watched the couch shrink, becoming miniscule compared to is wand that he left on the couch. Letting out a small squeak, Mr. Cosma launched himself towards the wand and grabbed it, shaking it to stop its magic; the couch no bigger the size of a mint.

How could I be so stupid. We can’t be leaving these around! What if the baby gets a hold of one? What if…oh how could I forget so easily.

“Honey? What happened to our couch?”, his wife asked, closing the front door behind her as she placed down her briefcase, “And what are you doing? I thought I told you to take it easy today.”

“I-I-I I know hun. I just…”, Mr. Cosma stammered, unable to answer his wife. Smiling gently at him, Mrs. Cosma pulled out her wand and pointed it towards their mint-sized couch, turning it back to normal. “I-I’m so sorry darling. It was an accident. I-I was just so lost in thought that I-“

“Babe, sit down. You standing around all stressed out is not good for the baby.”, Mrs. Cosma said softly, placing his hands on her husband’s shoulders, sitting him down gently, “What’s the matter? How did this happen?”

“I-I just…”, Mr. Cosma stuttered some more, before tears started sprouting from his emerald green eyes, staining his reading glassed, “I’m sorry. I-I just wanted to help.”

“Shh…shh…baby it’s ok.”, she said soothingly, hugging him gently as she rubbed his back.

“I ruin everything.”

“No you don’t darling. Why do you think you ruin everything?”

“I-I’m such an idiot. I was trying to make sure our home w-was safe for our baby since he’s almost here and I…I left my wand on the couch and it shrunk..and I almost got hit..and what if that had been our baby”

“Ok babe, breathe for me.”, Mrs. Cosma instructed, grabbing his hands firmly as she demonstrated a proper breath. She let him continue sobbing before he started breathing, his tears finally coming to a halt. “Do you need some water?”

“No dear…”, he sniffed, “I just want our baby to be safe. I-I knew I was forgetting something. I didn’t even think about what would happen if he got a hold of our wands. He can’t use adult magic yet! He’s not ready!”

“Sweetheart, it’s ok. We’re going to lock them up from now on. It was just a little accident. Don’t beat yourself up. The fact that you’re even worrying this much just proves to me that you don’t ruin everything. I’m sure you’re doing to be the best father in the world to our little Cosmo.”, she said softly, wiping the last of his tears from his cheek, “Think about it. It’s a good thing this happened. If it happened, then you wouldn’t have remembered our wands, right?”

“I-I guess so. Just..”, Mr. Cosma sighed, anxiety still overcoming his body as he looked down at his belly, “I’m sorry darling. I’ve been such a handful lately. I-I’m just ready for him to be born so bad. I’m tired of all these hormones, I’m tired of the vomiting, and I-I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to come home to me looking like a mess. I haven’t even started dinner yet.”

“Then we’ll get something delivered. It’s no big deal. I just want you to rest. We don’t have much time left anyways, but you worrying about everything and stressing yourself out isn’t going to do any good.”, Mrs. Cosma said, “I know you want to give the baby a good home. I do too, and I’m glad you’re taking all the precautions into doing so, but you’ve got to take care of yourself too, especially since we’re due pretty soon.”

“Well..I just…I don’t want anyone to die from an accident. Of course, I’m especially talking about the baby but what if something happens to you or I? What if something happens to me that I can’t take care of my baby. What if an accident like this kills us-“

Mrs. Cosma interrupted her husband by kissing him on the mouth, pulling him close and allowing him to melt into her body, a sense of security and warmth around him.

“Darling, please just trust me. Trust me to provide and take care of his household, and trust yourself that you’re going to do a good job with the baby, ok? No more worrying. Cosmo doesn’t want daddy to worry anymore.”, she smiled at him, “Everything’s going to be ok. I promise you. I love you too much to lie to you.”

“I-I love you too. Thank you.”, Mr. Cosma said softly, sniffing though his tears were finally clearing up, “Honey?”

“Yes dear?”

“Do you know if we have any pickles left? And peanut butter?”

“Yes but don’t spoil your dinner. I’m about to order.”, she laughed softly as she made her way towards the landline phone in the kitchen, “Pizza ok?”

[belethlegwen]

The Faerie Spell - Chp 6

Chapter One: Click Here Previous Chapter: Click Here Story Directory: Click Here Words: 3436 Summary: Daphne's stopped telling the crew about her 'episodes' after a few too many 'jokes' got tossed around during a full group hang-out.

[Super apologies, there seems to be a bug on Tumblr where this is fucking with dark mode/darker themes for some reason? I don't know why and I don't know how to fix it. Sorry!]

I’m not going to lie. 

I know I should have… talked to someone about the Gem thing. I should’ve, at least, talked to her. But every time I tried to think of a way, tried to even line up a conversation about it with SOMEONE, I always froze up and choked. Gem had been… fine, I guess, since the incident; at least in the sense that things were back to normal when we hung out together.

That said, I had… started to try and ask for help with errands when I knew Gem wouldn’t be available, and essentially just trying to avoid any one on one time where possible. It had been two and a half weeks or so since then, and now I was only seeing her when all of us were hanging out together somewhere.

Me and Sheridan had, for the most part, moved past the stupid vacuuming fight, but things were still tense enough that I tried not to bother her for anything. Cal was fine, but only if I caught them between shifts and before they started smoking. Mak was… well… I didn’t ask Mak to help, but if he offered I wouldn’t-- and couldn’t really-- say no once I had posted the request in the group chat.

As far as the group knew, there had only been one ‘episode’ or whatever we’re all calling it since the time with Gem, and it only just came to a halt after two days-- 42 hours and 12 minutes if I really wanna be nitpicky about it-- this morning. The group was extremely relieved to hear.

I had spent most of the time in the company of Cal, it had been weekdays so Sheridan was working, but she was pretty amicable in the morning and evenings when she was home and checking if I needed anything. At one point we even watched an episode of a show we’re both watching together, and that was actually pretty good? Like, there were some hiccups, obviously, she gets impatient if I insist on moving or climbing anywhere myself like she thinks I’m doing it to just bug her, but she’s at least learned to give me some warning before grabbing, though none of them are any good at actually asking me first.

There’s not a lot of room for ‘no’ when people don’t want to wait 12 times as long for you to get somewhere as the rest of them.

…Which is why they only knew about that episode, and that was only because it had lasted long enough that I couldn’t possibly keep it secret from anyone.

There had been two others in the last two weeks or so, and they were-- thankfully-- pretty short-lived. I really didn’t mean to keep at least the first one totally secret, but it had happened within maybe an hour or two of everyone leaving after a movie-night together and it was just… Well…

I had suggested basically as soon as I was out of the last episode and the grocery trip with Mak that maybe we could all-- because I really didn’t want to be alone with Gem, I know I’m a coward for avoiding this for so long, but still-- go catch a new movie. There was one I had been looking forward to forever that had been out for almost a month, but with the… you know, it was hard to convince myself it was worth it in case something happened.

Cal, Gem, and Sheridan were all gung-ho about it, and then suddenly later that day Gem jumped in with a suggestion that we do a movie in the house instead, and I just pretended that it was fine. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had probably happened; Mak didn’t want to go through the embarrassment of me zonking in public, even though I could’ve-- and have, honestly, at least in my head-- made dozens of arguments about how it wouldn’t be so bad because it’d be dark, we could sit at the very back so no one behind us would notice, and like… I mean… there was probably a way I could still watch the movie after that?

…I wasn’t completely confident that it would’ve worked out, volume would’ve been a problem for me-- I really need to buy earplugs, shoot, add that to the list-- but I was getting really tired of being on what I thought of at the time as house-arrest.

Either way, everyone came over that Friday night, and that was kind of where this whole new way of doing things started.

“We’re gonna put your new roommate through his paces to-night!” Cal had called dramatically from the doorway as they burst in with arms literally loaded down with bags of snacks. Gem was behind, carrying a tray of food she had cooked at home-- smelled like the pan-roasted sausage and veg thing she did with the brussel sprouts I actually liked-- and Mak followed after making sure his car was fully locked.

“He’s already had to take three trips to Sheri's room,” I laughed, jabbing a thumb at her as I’m sure she made a face behind me. We had to dump the poor guy so many times during his first full run of the house, but now he could get through the whole place without having to stop and blow up our phones with notifications that he was stuffed.

“He doesn’t get the corners well,” Sheri chimed in as she took the foil-covered tray from Gem and brought it to the kitchen while they took their coats and shoes off in the porch.

“That’s because you’re supposed to get the corners,” Cal retorted, Mak laughing with a nod.

“That’s broom work.”

“What’s even the point of getting it then?” Sheri groaned from the kitchen, and I just rolled my eyes. Me and Cal shot each other knowing looks and then moved to flop on the couch and start spreading out their trove of delicious snacks; chips, chocolates, gummies, BUGLES-- holy shit I love Bugles--, and a variety of store-bought dips, cookies, and a little tray of mini cupcakes.

“Hey, check it out,” Cal said as they whipped out a burned-CD in a clear case from the inside pocket of their coat. “Managed to nab it for you.”

“Oh my god Cal, fuck yes,” I laughed, the movie’s name scribbled in sharpie on the front. “Even a shitty cam job just to say I saw it while it was still kind of relevant will make my whole week. Thanks, bro.” I ruffled their messy dark-blond hair as they shot me an almost offended look.

“Oh, bro, no--” they replied with a grin, finally slipping out of their coat and shoving it behind them; it was always weird seeing Cal without the binder on, but they’d been in it all day at work and I knew that evening time was ‘breathing time’. “You think I would get you, my dearest, most incredible friend--”

“What do you want to borrow?” I shot across the bow but they simply flashed a stupid grin and continued.

“My treasured, longest-lasting friend,” I rolled my eyes with a similarly rolling laugh. “You think I would get you a dirty, peasant’s camjob? Bro, never-- this shit is aiming for the Academy.”

I gasped as Sheridan and Mak reentered the room from the kitchen holding plates of still-steaming food. “For Your Consideration?!” Sheri squealed excitedly.

Cal wiggled the disk between their fingers flashily. “For Our Consideration.”

“Fucker,” Mak laughed, “how do you always find those and find the legit ones?”

“Trade secret,” Cal shot back with a finger to their lips. 

Gem came out with two plates full of the sausage-sprout roast thing and handed one each to Cal and me before running back to the kitchen for her own. I squished down to be closer to the end of the couch where my stairs were attached and Cal squished down with me, giving Gem room at the other end for herself and Sheridan, Mak taking the recliner for himself. 

“Fahbuloush food,” Cal said between shovel-fuls of it, flashing a thumbs up.

“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” I said, leaning out a bit to nod to Gem directly. She beamed at me and I couldn’t help but feel just… awkward. Did she really not remember? Or did she really think I didn’t know? Was what happened really just… nothing and I was just making a big deal out of nothing?

I blushed and sat back, focusing on the food as Cal’s feral eating knocking some of the crispier bits of parm and panko crumbs to the floor. “Shorreh,” they managed through a mouthful that spat out a couple of other little pieces of food beyond their notice. I shuddered a little; that never would’ve disgusted me before now, but tonight I was feeling extremely grateful that I wasn’t only depending on myself or Sheri to clean the floors at least a little anymore.

“It’s cool,” Sheri offered, also face deep in dinner. “Roombie will get it.”

“Oh god you didn’t name it Roombie did you?” Mak asked with a look of utter incredulity from the recliner.

“I haven’t named it at all, I shouldn’t have had to buy the damn thing to begin with--” Sheridan started and I actually felt a little proud-- almost-- that everyone seemed to jump on it before I had to.

“Yes you did,” Mak and Gem said in different levels of gentleness.

“No, you should’ve been fuckin’ vacuuming,” Cal snapped to a harsh hush from Gem after they had finally swallowed, reaching into one of their bags and hauling out cans of soda and dispersing them among the crowd of us. “Anyway, name the li’l guy. You’ll feel better about it.”

“I’m terrible with names,” Sheri sighed.

That had opened the gates, and I probably should’ve jumped in and said something, or at least like… said no, but…

“Yuzuki, that maid from Chobits--”

“Jeeves, you gotta call it Jeeves.”

“Smithers!”

“Let Daph name it.”

“Oh god it’ll get named after a horror movie villain or something.”

“Chasing her through the house like Jason chases teens through the woods.”

“Hannibal,” Cal suggested, everyone laughing at it in some way or another. I laughed too, honestly, just because it-- I mean, I can see why they found it funny. Everyone was having a good time! It was nice to just have a laugh with everyone.

Anyway, the Roomba’s name is Hannibal now. I’m not… it’s not bad, I’m not mad about it.

The ‘jokes’ afterwards were a bit… too much though.

Even when the movie was on, and I was trying to pay attention, comments would keep getting made. There were some innocent ones, and questions, which I kind of appreciated, but it always devolved back to the same dumb joke.

“Does Hannibal knock into your stairs or ladders much?” Mak had asked at one point, nodding toward the steps against my arm of the couch, I wobbled my head. 

“They’re all sturdy enough that if he runs into them front-on he’ll turn, but if he’s coming up the bookshelf he’s knocked the ladder down a couple of times. I adjusted those so they’re high enough off the ground he won’t bump them, I have the one the bookshelf rigged up with an elastic so--”

“Neat,” he said bluntly, turning back to his food. Cal picked up his sudden exit from the conversation and stepped in though; at least Cal had my back. For this, anyway.

“Oh shit, that’s actually really cool,” they said, leaning over the back of the couch to look at the ladder and little doll-room I had set up on the bookshelf. “And you’re heavy enough that if you grab on, it’ll pull down?”

“That’s the theory,” I had replied, a bit embarrassedly. Obviously I hadn’t tested it yet, but… I mean, I had hope it would work.

“Well, if you zonk tonight and it doesn’t work, I’ll keep you off the ground so you don’t have to worry about Hannibal,” they laughed, grabbing my knee and shaking it as they kept looking at it. “Oh damn you can even see the TV from that little spot, hey? Fuckin’ smart.”

Gem had been chewing and couldn’t chime in fast enough, almost gasping for air as she finally swallowed. “If she zonks tonight then you keep Hannibal turned off until she’s back to normal,” she stressed, shooting looks around the room.

“No, it’s fine,” I tried to interject. “He’s only set to start doing his auto-cleaning after Sheri leaves for work and before I have to do any morning Zoom meetings.”

“It’s still too much of a risk,” Gem said from her end of the couch with that clear tone of ‘don’t argue with me’ that was really starting to get my hackles up. “And too noisy for you at that size.”

“He’s actually a lot quieter than th--” I started to argue anyway, but Mak decided to cut in and remind us that there was a movie on, and I blushed, feeling like a child.

This was the movie I had wanted to watch, and I had missed probably 20% of it or more to chatter started by everyone else.

Cal had gotten up and left around the midpoint, stepping outside to smoke ‘subtly’ though everyone knew what was happening. They had given me a nudge to go along, but I had already missed enough of the movie-- I was just hoping Cal would leave it here at the end of the night so I could try it again when no one else was here.

Gem had scooted closer in their absence, and I had kind of felt it coming but tried to play it cool as she picked at snacks and stuff. By the time Cal had come back, she had almost fully taken over their spot, and Cal didn’t see the look on face before they flopped down between Gem and Sheridan, much to everyone but Gem’s disappointment.

I got up to run to the kitchen in one of the quieter moments, and Gem followed.

“Hey, if you zonk tonight…” she had begun softly after a while had passed and everyone finally seemed willing to watch the movie in the other room, “you don’t have to worry. You could come back to my place again, if you wanted, rather than worry about being here.”

“I, uh…”

Listen. Listen. I know what I should’ve said and I know I shouldn’t have been pushing this whole bullshit off, but I was! It’s too late to change that so like, try to keep your comments to yourselves on this one. 

“I’m pretty tired tonight so if, uh, if it happens I’d be fine to just hang out here. I’ve got my beds, it’s ok.”

“If you’re sure…” she drawled, and I could hear the disappointment in her voice in a way that felt like I was being dipped in ice-water. “I just… I don’t like the idea of you being alone in there.”

“I know, I--” the words literally tried to choke me. “Thanks, Gem,” I managed, cocking my head back out toward the living room. “I’m gonna head back, I don’t wanna miss anything.”

Like… she was being nice, everyone would say she’s just being nice by offering for me to stay at her place. Me and Sheridan aren’t on like… same-room-sleepover terms of relationship, and I don’t ever want that with her. Mak absolutely won’t go near me if I zonk, turns out, so that’s out. Cal I might be able to convince to sleepover, but they’ve got cats so I would never be able to stay at their place, and Sheri doesn’t like them hanging out, so…

I went back to the couch and managed to drag Cal over to lean on me before Gem came back. Yeah, if I zonked tonight, I’d just ask Cal to sleepover.

At least, that’s what I thought until Cal opened their damn mouth about it later.

“Hey, that was a pretty good movie, I think,” they drawled as we both brought some trash into the kitchen together. 

“Yeah, can I keep the disc for a bit? I’d like to rewatch it,” I jumped at the opportunity, holding open the trash bag for them.

“Oh yeah absolutely, you can even keep it in the player so you can like, use the remote with your feet and stuff,” they said, looking at me like a brilliant revelation had hit them.

“My feet?” I laughed. Jesus, Cal had hit the devil’s lettuce hard tonight.

“Yeah for when you zonk,” they said with a grin, chuckling.

“Ah.” Of course. I’m the only one apparently trying to not think about that tonight while I’m supposed to be having fun. Cal, despite being somewhere in the stratosphere mentally, could still pick up that I was uncomfortable.

“Hey it’s cool, if you zonk, you know I’ll keep you off the ground n’ stuff.”

“You really don’t need to,” I replied as they threw an arm over my shoulders and started wheeling back around to the livingroom to get more garbage for cleaning. “I mean, you’re having a good night, I wouldn’t want you to freak out about dropping me.”

“Pffffft,” Cal said-- shooting me a look I hope I don’t ever have to see again-- as they pulled the neck of their shirt down. “No binder tonight, don’t even have to use my hands.”

“Ew, Cal--” I blurted out trying to shove them away. I was laughing, I knew I was laughing, but my face and my body absolutely didn’t want to be laughing right now; I don’t even know why I was laughing about it, it just seemed to be the only reaction my brain thought was appropriate? Like it panicked and spun a wheel and here we are! Laugh-town!

“Haha, c’mon,” Cal drawled as they started picking up garbage again, me doing the same to try and take my mind off of it. “You’d love it in there, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, right?”

“Thought about what?” Mak asked as he came back from the bathroom, I tried to shake my head at him to cut if off but Cal had his undivided attention.

“Giant tits,” they snorted with a knowing nod to Mak. Mak’s expression was probably the most blender-mashed look of confusion, disgust, awkwardness and curiosity I’d ever seen, and that was still not nearly as gross to look at as Cal’s face when they grabbed me by the shoulder and said. “I mean, my are mostly only hairy around the nipples, so it’s still pretty good in the middle there, I think.”

“Cal, fuck off,” I said, trying to shove them off again. All it did was make Cal laugh more, and I tried to focus on picking up the dishes and litter from around the room as Sheri and Gem came back from Sheri’s bedroom, also looking curious about what was happening.

Gem rushed over to take some of the dishes from me, and I said a quiet thanks as Cal clarified to Sher behind her that they’d offer me a cleavage ride. Gem’s eyes went wide as she darted them between me and Cal in surprise, and I couldn’t get a read on her expression. “Fuck off with the weird jokes, Cal,” I muttered again, breaking eyecontact with Gem as I did.

My eyes dropped to her shirt, feeling kind of relieved that it wasn’t one with a breast pocket, but I had to contain my shiver as I turned to walk away. Her shirt was… pretty low-cut, and my head just kept going back to all of the weird shit that happened earlier the week, on top of this weird fucking conversation.

One of the things that made me feel even worse was that I knew I was blushing, and I was terrified what she would think of that if she had seen it.

That’s why, obviously, after everyone had left and me and Sheri were getting ready for bed, I decided not to say a damn thing when those stupid warm waves started to come over me. That’s why I just said goodnight, went to my room, and sat on the top of my desk with one of the bags of leftover snacks in my lap until that stupid fucking faerie finished their stupid fucking bullshit, and I dragged my gross-feeling ass all the way up to my stupid tiny sponge-of-a-mattress and ate cheetos until I fell asleep.

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

Next Chapter: Click Here

[ticiie]

week 13: hanging in a hammock

prompt from the off-season winter sports challenge

pairing: Marco Odermatt/Gino Caviezel

length: 1102 words

author's note: woah this was harder than i thought, can't remember last time i restarted a single prompt in so many different directions as i did with this one...anyways hope y'all enjoy it

The warehouse was almost empty and Marco wasn’t sad about it. The clock was ticking as the store would close in twenty minutes. He and Justin were standing in front of an exhibition model with a shopping cart full of utensils next to them. Marco couldn’t recall every having to buy that much stuff for not just the kitchen but every other room as well, when he had first moved out of his family’s house, those utensils had somehow just appeared. Gabriel had been much more of an adult than himself back then already.

“I think you should do it.”, Justin said. He leaned down so he could read the additional information on the price tag. “Even if he doesn’t like it, which he will, you’ll get out of it as the winner since you’ve got a patio yourself. You can just put it up there.”

Justin had a point. So, Marco pulled out his phone and dialled Gino’s number. He only had to wait three rings for Gino to pick up.

“I hope you’re calling to apologize for being late again.”

Marco ignored Gino’s comment although he did feel a little guilty. Instead, he asked: “You’re still planning on visiting Sandra on the weekend, right?”

Gino sighed. “Yes, Marco, I already told you this about five times. Why?”

“Just making sure. Hey, before I forget, how big is your balcony? Rule of thumb?”

“Alright, what the fuck is going on, why on earth do you have to know how big my balcony is?” He was starting to grow annoyed, Marco could tell, yet still Gino couldn’t fully ban the amusement out of his voice.

“I’m asking for a friend. Please?”

“3.5 on 2 meters.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back soon, love you!”

“Wait, Marco, what was- “but Marco had hung up already.

“You’re going to pay for that”, Justin said, not even trying to hide his grin.

“I am very much aware of that, thank you. Now help me find the right box so we can get this thing in the car.”

--

Gino hadn’t been in his best mood all week long and Marco would be the last to judge him. Nevertheless, when he left early in the morning on the following Saturday, he kissed Marco and silently wished he could stay with him.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”, he whispered and Marco smiled at him through drowsy eyes. Marco hid his grin in the pillow. It smelled like Gino’s shampoo and coffee, a comforting scent that Marco missed whenever they were apart. The door of Marco’s bedroom closed and only a second later, his phone announced the arrival of a text message. Marco reached over Gino’s side of the mattress to the bedside table. Justin had sent him a selfie that showed him on the passenger’s seat of Loïc’s minivan. Justin was grinning broadly while Loïc seemed to be at least as annoyed as Gino had been all week. found someone to help (we’ll have to bribe him, make sure coffee is ready when we come pick you up) was written beneath the picture.

--

When Sunday afternoon arrived, Marco was all jittery when waiting for Gino’s return. He had tried to occupy himself with tidying up the balcony. Gino’s plants out there had been in desperate need of attention. Marco would never in a million years admit that he had to call his mother via FaceTime to safe them, he himself hadn’t felt competent enough to just throw random amounts of water at them. After the rescue mission, he had vacuumed the whole flat, stocked the fridge with Gino’s favourite edibles and then had given the finishing touch to the early birthday present by wrapping a big red ribbon around one post. And just when Marco wanted to give in to the urge and test its comfortability, the rattling of Gino’s key was audible on the hallway. Marco made his way through the living room and to the door and was quick to open it, finding a very startled Gino in front of him.

“Well, hello there”, he greeted the older one, kissing him quickly so he wouldn’t get a chance to see behind Marco’s back. Gino returned the kiss, of course, but was still confused, even more when Marco made him turn around and blindfolded him with a scarf.

“Please don’t tell me the reason you’re doing this is because you set the kitchen on fire while I was gone”, Gino said and Marco chuckled. “No worries, I didn’t even touch it. Watch your step, there’s a table next to you.” He guided him towards the balcony door where he put his hands on Gino’s waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t hate me for this. Happy Birthday.”

Gino wanted to protest, tell Marco that his birthday wasn’t until next week, when the younger one removed the blindfold, allowing Gino to look at the shiny new hammock that was standing on the balcony, perfectly staged by the golden light of the sun which was setting behind the mountains. Gino gave a roar of delight. “Seriously? You got me a hammock?”

“I did. Although it did take Justin to convince me to buy it, I wouldn’t have- “Marco was interrupted by Ginos lips on his. They kissed for what felt like half an eternity and when they parted, Marco felt lightheaded. Gino smiled at him. “Thank you so much.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Gino let go of Marco and took a seat in his new place to be. To say it was comfortable probably was the understatement of the century. He sighed in relish; his whole body relaxed in an instant. “I live here now”, Gino stated. “You might wanna tell the others if they need me, they can either come here or have to provide me this hammock at any place they want me to come. Anything else is inacceptable.”

Marco laughed at Ginos words. He turned towards the door which didn’t go unnoticed by Gino.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to get us some drinks…” One look from Gino was enough to make Marco’s voice die down. And even though he had considered a lot of eventualities before buying the hammock and even though he had made sure twice that the way he and Justin had set it up was exactly as described on the manual, Marco certainly hadn’t expected that this thing would crash from the weight of two pro athletes. Perhaps that had been a bit naïve of him.

[champagneandparacosm-archive]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞: 𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐄𝐥𝐢  // @kingofselfdestruction //

   Love was messy. It was complicated and sometimes didn’t make sense in the slightest. Painful at times, a blunt knife being forced into the chest with uncertainty. Especially when calling yourself the girlfriend of Ellijah Louis Dunham. Even so, she never backed away from the challenge. She couldn’t, unable to see herself with anyone else. Their love was like a secret shared between only them, taking his adoration to the grave. No one else understood, everyone called them insane for staying with one another… Joanna saw no other option than to stay. Leaving was not ever a thing she considered. He was her ending. He was her soulmate. And sometimes, even soulmates weren’t always the happiest. Her soul was marred in trauma, his own just the same. She took his troubles and issues and carried them with reverence, holding his battered and shattered glass heart, bracing the cuts that came with it.

   She sometimes didn’t come to his apartment for weeks. Their schedules were tough to align perfectly, leaving their meetings sometimes short and sweet. He would stop by the diner or her house, catching up quickly before he had to go. Cherished moments that made their reunions all the more sweeter. Since she often didn’t make it to his place for weeks, it meant that Eli sometimes allowed his depression to drown him. Before, Joanna wondered why he had an apartment when he could comfortably afford a house. The first time she encountered the apartment in a bout of his depression… she realized why. Because even the apartment was a lot to care for sometimes. Because sometimes, laundry was too hard to do and dishes piled up. The carpet didn’t get vacuumed for weeks, and it was all he could do to even feed and water his ferret.    Joanna never judged him. When she walked through the door, Eli was quick to apologize, shame shadowing his features. A softness dawned on her, silencing his excuses with a kiss. She had to pull him down to reach, on her tippy toes, “Shh, it’s okay, honey,” She murmured against his lips. “Let me help you clean up, okay?” It wasn’t really a question. Joanna, when resolved to do something, was impossible to argue with. He still always attempted, prattling about how she didn’t have to do that and he would get to it… She said nothing, even though she knew the dishes had been in the sink since the last time she had been there. His depression seemed to advance the more she was gone. It was hard, but she couldn’t carry that guilt. She had her own schedule and life to attend to, her mother to care for.    “It’s alright. I actually kinda like playing house… Makes me feel like your wife.” She shrugged, sending him a smile from the sink as she tied up her hair and unloaded the dishwasher, replacing the clean dishes with dirty ones. “Ya know… Daddy comes home after a long day of work, providing for his gorgeous, gorgeous wife…. I’m keeping the house in order, waiting ever so patiently for him to come and put a baby in me so we can be a family,” Humming, Joanna teased the idea over him, trying to help ease his mood into something warmer- softer. She had a knack for distracting him. Mentioning a baby was usually a good way to pull him out of his sadness. At least for a little bit.    The dishwasher was started after adding the soap, reaching under the sink to grab a trash bag. The counters were littered with pizza boxes with half eaten contents inside, trash roaming the kitchen. She didn’t mind him just watching. She really didn’t. She wanted to help him in whatever way she could, proving her love by acts of service. “Want me to make something? Chicken Alfredo? Breakfast for dinner?” Offering suggestions, she soaked a small cloth to wipe the counters down. On her way to retrieve the broom she stopped to address him, helping him from his suit coat, loosening his tie. “Relax, baby, let me clean up. Go get changed, bring me your basket of clothes and I’ll start a load. Can even take a shower if you need to.” Her lips trailed his jaw, soothing her thumb over his cheek, “I’ll make us some dinner, we can cuddle up and pretend we’re gonna watch a movie before I demand your dick.” An innocent smile, eyes glimmering with something darker.    She worked her way through each room, tidying up the mess. She carried sage with her wherever she went, lighting the bundle along with some rose and cinnamon incense, cleansing the apartment. The hippie witch set new, clean intention in the space, allowing the sensual scent to invade the rooms and suffocate the tension and sadness in the air. They ended up ordering in, Joanna promising to go shopping for groceries with him tomorrow. She was correct about their movie choice, picking something they’d probably tried to start five times, getting half through when she was nipping at his neck, her hands starting to roam his chest, leading lower and setting her intentions. He was never one to deny her anything, certainly not sex, a leg being placed on either side of him.    “I love you, Eli,” Her confession was a frequent one, but this time she managed to insert another wave of sincerity within it. “I never want you to hide from me, okay?” Gentle rolls of her hips enticed his arousal, showering his neck, cheek, and mouth in kisses. “There’s nothing you can do that will push me away. I’ll handle it all. I want all your bad parts just as much as I want the good ones.”

[ambrosiasaladofthebrain]

Chapter 4: If you’ve found the cure to aging could you share that please

Jake chuckled, “No.” he shook his head slightly, “Not possible.”

“I’m not lying, it is 3169.” The boy pushed.

“No no no no no, cause that would make me, 24? No?” Jake did the math again, holding out his fingers to double check then shaking them aggressively when it came out the same. “No, that’s wrong, I’m 13, not, not 24!” He started to shake his hands him as he tried to process the possible whys and hows.

“Oh, um, no, I don’t think you look 24? I mean, you're really small for a 24 year old,” the boy tried, straightening his back but slouching when his attempt only maybe Jake give a small whine of misery, “Uh, ok, uh,” the boy held out a hand to seemingly touch Jake’s shoulder then seemed to think better as he brought his hand back. 

“I’m not 24,” Jake tried again, as if saying this again would magically make his hair shorten and his clothes grow and his sister reappear; “An’, an’ that would make Zoey, oh stars, is she even goin’ to be alive? Did she wake up? When, when she woke up did they ‘ave to tell ‘er I went missin? Did she think I ran away?”

“Hey, hey wait, no, listen. Just take a second, look at me,” the stranger waved his hand to gather Jake’s watering eyes, “You still have to breath, please breath.”

Jake tried to listen, inhaling like a broken vacuum with holes riddling the tube and screws jittering in the container, choking on his attempt he tried to release what he had caught but it came out too fast and now he needed more oxygen.

“Oh,’ the stranger mumbled, “No, uh, follow me ok, just, do what I do.”

He started to inhale, his left hand tapping a beat in the dirt. Jake tried to follow along, but how had he gotten outside? How had he forgotten so much? His whole personality revolve around remembering, he couldn’t just forget, what if- “Hey,” the boy knocked on the ground gathering Jake’s attention again, inhaling and nodding for Jake to do the same;

“In,” Jake tried to breath in but couldn’t copy the boy’s fluid breath, “one, two, three, four. Hold,” Jake could feel the air caught in his tired lungs burn and he was about to cough it up like a liquid when the boy continued.

“Out, two, three, four, five.”

Jake released his breath as it clung to his throat, he started to tap his fingers together, what if Zoey was also out here? 

“In,” the boys said a bit louder, when had he gotten so close to Jake? They were practically sitting with their knees touching now, but he listened, breathing in and collecting the aciding air as the face mask folded inwards. It had gotten so hot and moist and he wanted to rip it off but then he’d be breathing the normal air and that was possibly worse. Was Zoey breathing this air?

“Out,” the boy instructed again, he was tapping the ground right next to Jake’s foot now and if Jake focused he could feel it reverberating through the dirt just slightly. “There you go, just like that, yep,” The boy encouraged, like Jake was actually following along and not imitating a dying fish.

“I ha- I have’ta find my sister,” Jake weezed.

“And I’ll help you, promise.”

“R-realy?”

“Sure, I have got nothing better to do. Tell you what, once you calm down a bit more we’ll leave, right away, no waiting until morning. I’ll take you back to my place, which, by the way, has filtered air and we can get your injuries really taken care of, then we can look for your sister.”

“Yer- yer place?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not close to here, wich was why I thought I’d wait until morning, but we can make it before the sun sets if we really try I guess. We’d have to move fast.”

His gaze flicked to Jake’s ankle.

“But, I don’t- yer a stranger. Stru-stranger danger says to not follow a person you don- don’t know.

“Uh, well, I gues you could stay here but I have a laptop and, well, resources, plus there will be others.” Jake made a face that hopefully portrayed that that didn’t mean anything to him. “Uh, ok, what if I give you something sentimental of mine. That way if I do turn out to be a bad person you can threaten to break it.”

Jake made another face. Who would put their own personal item in danger like that? But the boy was already reaching for his neck and pulling out a silver chain followed by a small silver dog tag stung through it. He handed it to Jake who took it in somewhat shaky hands.

“Why w-”

“Insurance. Now I can’t try anything without hurting myself too, see?”

Jake looked down at the small tag that had nothing but the number 1 engraved on it in the smallest font in the top left corner.

“H-how, do I knu-know this isn’t some prop? There's nothin’ on it?” Jake questioned.

“Oh, uh,” the boy tilted his head, rubbing the back of his neck, “It does have sentimental value to me, even if it is not too flashy or anything.”

Jake squinted at the strange boy, he seemed hesitant to share the sentiments but he did seem honest, his hand kept slightly twitching towards the pile of silver in Jake’s hand and it seemed like he wasn't even aware of it as he talked.

“Fine,” Jake shrugged, unclasping the clip and slipping it around his neck, “but, this doesn’t mean I trust those other people, I can’t expect everyone ta give me an ‘insurance item’,” Jake lazily held his finger quotes up, then seeing that his hands were still shaking, shoved them into his lap.

“Well, I will just never leave your side,” the boy shrugged.

“Ever?”

“I mean, in limitation, obviously. I’m not gonna go to the bathroom and get changed with you.”

“Yeah, I figured that's what ya ment.”

“Here,” the boy held up his pink, “I promsie to never leave your side and protect you from anyone who does try anything.”

Jake squinted at the outstretched pinky; “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help? What do you want in return?”

The boy lowered his pinky an inch, “Uh. I wanted to help since it looked like you could use it.”

“Yeah right.”

“Uh well, I want to help you because it makes me feel better. Does that not count for something?”

“So yer doin it t’feel better about yerself?”

“Sure. I help people to feel like a good person, that is what I want out of it.”

Jake squinted at him a moment longer; “You can’t leave my side; and you have to keep me safe; and help me find my sister.” He restated.

“I promise,” the stranger lifted his pinky again.

Jake lifted his hand, extended his pinky, and after a moment of hesitation, wrapped it around the stranger’s. 

Pinky promises were so childish yet Jake felt a sense of security with the lock of their pinkies. 

The boy’s was bigger than his, slender and cold. Unlike Jake’s hands he didn’t shake. It was like touching marble.

It wasn’t much but he had the dog tag as well and sitting here wasn’t going to help him anyways.

“Alrighty, let’s  get out of here before the sun sets on us,” the boy smiled as he stood, lifting Jake with their still connected pinkies. Jake wobbled as he stood, wincing when he put too much weight against his ankle. “Thats gonna be our biggest problem.” The boy snapped a pointed finger to Jake’s ankle.

“Sorry,” Jake mumbled, pulling his hand out of the boy's grip to lean against the wall.

“Nah, it’s not your fault you got hurt. Not like you did it on purpose.” The boy shrugged, “I think if I leave first I can pull you up so you don’t have to put any excess weight on your ankle.” 

He wasn’t planing on leaving Jake behind was he? If he left first he could just walk away and Jake would have to find some other way out. Maybe he’d had enough of Jake. One of Jake’s foster parents had done that, left him in a pit he’d fallen into so he’d learn to ‘fend for himself’. He’d been in there two days when a random passerby helped him out then robbed him.

“No, I- I think,” Jake’s eyes scanned the small area, looking for a different solution, “If you give me a step up by clasping your hands together I can use my good ankle to jump out. “

“You sure?” The boy tilted his head, but Jake was already wobbling to the exit, “Ok, yeah, hold on,” the boy hurried, quickly locking his hands together for Jake to step up.

The part Jake hadn’t considered was needing to put all his weight on his bad ankle first to then jump off with his good one. He inhaled as he leaned further on his weight and felt fire stab up his leg but it was better than being left so he quickly planted his foot into the boys clasped hands and jumped.

The dirt wall honestly wasn’t that tall, if Jake hadn’t been hurt he’d have been able to get out by himself with no trouble. As it was now, he jumped out and landed face first in the grass, dragging the rest of himself up and out then turning in time to see the boy jump out with ease.

“You good?” He asked, lended Jake a hand up.

Jake ignored it, pushing himself up and leaning into his good leg; “M’fine. We should get goin before the sun sets, like ya said.” He pointed to the sky that had already darkened a shade since he’d climbed out of the hole.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s go, here,” the boy made to lend his shoulder to Jake to lean on but Jake shuffled away.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I think it would be faster if-“

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s gonna be a long walk, and we are trying to hurry.”

Jake stared at him a moment, going through the possible outcomes. The boy could suddenly punch or push him but that would only slow them down and he seems to genuinely not want to be out in the dark.

He could be trying to pick pocket Jake but Jake didn’t think he even have pockets, the only object he had was the lighter, still tucked behind his ear and hidden by hair.

For a moment Jake toyed with the idea of an attempted kidnapping but the boy would have had better luck subduing him back in the hole first. 

None of the outcomes seemed worse than wasting time right now so he sighed; “Fine.”

He hooked his arm around the boy’s shoulder as the boy smiled like he’d won an argument of some kind. 

“Alrighty, let’s get this show on the road,” the boy began as they started to walk into the wood, “For the most part we can walk like this, I think there’s an entrance to a place around here. When we get close though, you’re gonna have to wear a blind fold-“

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Well, the people I live around are very secretive, they don’t like anyone knowing where they live, and I mean anyone.”

“You do realize how suspicious that soun’s right?”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry, really, but they are all a bit paranoid. They are scared of getting attacked so they hide underground.”

“What’re they scared’a attackin ‘em?”

“The normal things I guess.” He shrugged, “Other groups, animals, one of Akuno’s little groups.”

“Akuno’s lill groups?”

“Yeah, ever since this one time, everyone’s been absolutely terrified of the idea of Akuno finding us.”

“What’re you guys doin?”

“What do you mean?”

“Only people breakin the law would hide from the government.”

“Well that depends on your version of the law.”

“I’m not goin anywhere that could get me in trouble with the law.”

“I hate to break it to you but by being here you already broke it. If Akuno found out you had been out here he wouldn’t let you back in.”

“No, people used to leave and return all the time.”

“Was that, earlier?”

Jake scrunched his brows at that and hummed.

“The only illegal thing we’re doing is living out here. Besides, if we don’t live in the cages how can their rules apply to us.”

“Akuno would let me it. Once he hears my story he’ll agree this was all one big mistake. Honestly, I’m sure my story won’t even make it up the chain ta him. I’ll just go to the door and talk to the guard there and if anythin it’ll be a local issue, at most I’ll talk to a district representative.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t heard of those doors opening for anybody unauthorized in ages, even before the closing.”

“It’ll work.”

“Sure, I’ll take you to the doors as soon as you heal enough to stand on your own. Deal?”

“Fine. A sprained ankle should take 3 to 4 weeks to heal to the point of being able to walk on them again. In that time, you’ll help me find clues some other way.” Jake paused, realizing he’d just demanded instead of asked, technically this was the deal they had already come to  but he should be nicer about asking in case the boy became angry at being bossed around. “I mean, that is what we discussed earlier at least. If yer still ok with- I mean you can’t take that back now, right?”

“Course, I’ll help you in the mean time.” The boy’s mouth flicked somewhat up into what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile.

“Anyways,” the boy said, looking up at the sky and re-adjusting his shoulder, “you’ll have to wear a blind fold until we get to a holding room. Basically we’re going to enter this room we’re I’ll talk to the guards, if they talk to you you can talk back if you want. After that the room gets scanned to make sure you’re not hiding a tracker or a chip or a bomb or something. I don’t really know what they’re looking for honestly. If they find something they don't like they send someone in to A: get rid of the item or B: investigate the item. The scan also checks you for illness so you’ll know if you do have stardust pretty soon I guess. Depending on what they find they put you in a specific room. I’m guessing since your not sick but your wearing uh, something often worn by, um, test, subjects, they’ll put you in a quarantined room. This would probably be where they’ll try to separate us but don’t worry, I wont let them.”

“But what if I need to be quarantined?”

“Well, I’m already sort of in contact with you, so if you did have something I probably already caught it. Besides we’ll know that bit when they scan us.”

“What did you mean by I’m wearing test subject stuff?”

The boy was silent a moment, tilting his head and squinting his left eye. For a moment Jake thought he wasn’t going to answer but then he tilted his head the other way and opened his mouth;

“Just that, I mean, have you looked at your, cloth? Your, outfit? Your, hospital gown?”

Jake looked down at his breezy outfit as if verifying the cloth was still in tact. 

“Yeah, it’s sorta gross. I thought I was wearin it because I was a hospital patient, maybe I caught stardust and fell asleep like my sister, ‘sept somehow I got tossed in the woods.”

The boy chuckled, “What, the hospital was just like, ‘oh no, no more room, gues we’ll let Mother Nature deal with them’?”

“Well when you put it like that,” Jake grumbled.

They stepped in silence a moment longer before the boy spoke again.

“Test subjects, varying from the ages of 5 to 20 somethings, actually no wait, babies? I think the animas can be found younger than 5. Anyway, young, people, who are found wearing hospital gown aren’t usually hospital patients. All over the forest are hidden facilities that use humans as, well, test subjects. So, accounting for the memory loss and adding the hospital gown, they’ll most likely think you were a test subject.”

Jake didn’t know how to respond to that. What was he even supposed to say? 'Wow that sucks that people are being tested on, anyways i want to go home because I'm sure that wasn’t me.' That wouldn’t fly. Maybe he should show compassion, but saying “oh that sucks” didn’t really feel sincere enough.

There was also the insinuation that Jake had been a test subject or other but he thought asking about himself seemed too self centered at the moment. Before he could say decide on what to say the boy moved on.

“So depending if the scan finds anything they might send you to a doctor, we need to get you to one anyways so it works. If they don't think it's urgent they'll send you to an interview room during the interview we can ask them to see if you sister ever came to one of our cities. If she did she’ll be in the system, if not they’ll try to find her online for you.”

“So basically just put up with answerin questions ‘n bein poked ‘n prodded?”

“Yep,” the boy pointed at Jake, drawling out the e before popping the p. “Anyway, I think it’s blindfold time.”

He untangled his arm from Jake to start digging in his bag again.

“Here we are,” with a dramatic wish of his wrist he displayed the purple cloth.

“Feel that?” He held the end out for Jake. “That is the good blind fold material right there, none of that amateur, scratchy stuff.”

“Do you normally carry a blind fold on you or...” Jake chuckled nervously.

“Nah, this is the one that group used on my, I stole it cause I’m petty. Ready?”

Jake exhaled, looking at the sky that had deepened to a red, “Yeah.”

The cloth was soft, a silky textured that Jake could imagine being used to coat District 1’s eye masks. Jake had seen those on a tv show once and had tried to make one with one of his foster parents. They’d used an old pillow they’d found in the road but when Jake tried to use it he’d hated the texture of it rubbing against his eyes and hadn’t gotten any sleep that night. 

They’d ended up burning it and roasting hot dogs in the fire. That guardian had been arrested for arson not so coincidentally.

“Ok, can you see anything?” The boy asked. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Could I just lie to you and tell you the wrong number in purpose?”

“Oh yeah. Hold on.”

Jake listened to the sound of  shuffling a moment, then it stopped, followed by the swish click of a switchblade. 

“Is that a switchblade? Oh, I knew it! I’m gonna die! Yer tryin t’kill me! Why didn’t y’jus’do it earlier? Issit a game? Issit a game fer ya?”

“What- what are you? You can see!”

“I can’t!”

“Then how’d you know I had a knife!”

“I heard you open it!”

“That could have been anything!”

“No! It sounded like a switchblade opening!”

“What does that even sound like!”

“Like, like, I don’t know! A switchblade! Opening!”

“Ok, yeah, I did pull out a switchblade!”

“T'stab me with?”

“No! I was gonna pretend to stab you.”

“That doesn’t sound any better!”

“If you flinched or pulled away it would be because you could see!”

“Why didn’t y'jus pretend t'punch me like a normal person!”

“You could have  felt the air change!”

“Really, I promise, I can’t see.”

There was silence for a moment;

“Ok, I believe you.”

“You jus pretended t'stab me didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Jake sighed, lifting his arm in an invitation for the boy to lean back in and re-start the walk. A moment later he felt the boys arm re-wrap around his back.

“Ready?” The boy asked, and Jake hadn’t realized he could feel the vibration of the boy’s voice in his own chest until now. He hummed a confirmation, letting his own voice vibrate back.

With the loss of his vision the rest of his senses oddly heightened. The trees were rustling in the softest breeze above their heads. What he could only gues where animals made odd calls among the foliage. Each step he took rustled the grass and thumped in an unnatural fashion.

He listened for the boy’s footsteps that he could feel from the way they moved and huffed when there a barely audible step. Jake focused on the boys breathing, in, out. Steady, confident breaths that only made Jake more aware of the cloth covering his lower face and the way it was hotter than the rest of his face.

Jake listened again. Trying to imagine the boys feet hitting the ground to the rhythm of his movements. Left right, left right. Suddenly they were ducking and Jake could feel the sun slip off his face for a second before splashing onto his face once more.

“Sorry, fallen tree.” The boys explained.

And there was that odd fact again. Without any facial expressions Jake really couldn’t tell anything by the boys odd sleepy voice. But his shoulders hadn’t tense and he hadn’t unintentionally turned away from Jake as he said it so he probably wasn’t lying.

“So weird.” Jake grumbled, turning his face away from the boy.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Ok. Anyway, we’re almost there, remember to just answer their questions to the best of your ability and stay calm and you should be fine.”

Jake hummed a confirmation. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea actually. What if they locked him up for some reason. If they hated Akuno and all then maybe they’d hold him hostage or kill him as some kind of warning. But this boy had said he’d protect him. But he could easily have been lying. Then why the necklace, unless it was a false pacifier.

No he’s already decided it wasn’t. 

But how could he know, he hadn’t even known the boy that long. On that note he didn’t even know the guys name. How could he trust someone if he didn’t even know their name. 

Fine then, he’s just make sure he knew this guy before any-

“And, here we are.” The boy said, the sound of a door creaking following his declaration.

Jake froze at how fast that was. He hadn’t even gotten to ask for a name yet!

The boy either didn’t notice Jake’s freeze or didn’t care because he dragged Jake along. Jake’s foot met a hard floor as the sound of a door echoed shut behind him and he realized it was far to late for any of his icebreakers.

The boy jiggled his shoulder, squeezed his shoulder as the sound of a static click echoed from somewhere.

“Hello?” A new voice filled with grain and static and electric annoyance filtered in.

“Hello Camp Rivestone, I’m requesting entrance with a new party of one in need of assistance.” The boys voice followed, echoes of voices chasing each other round the room for a moment before being cut down by the next static question.

“Assistance?”

“Medical and physical.”

“Hold for a scan.”

Something clicked to life and began to wir and hiss a moment before shutting down again.

“Black hair, what’s your name?”

Jake straighted his back and drew in a breath; “Jake Lunes.”

“Middle name?”

Jake paused, a sliver of panic sliding under his nails. A middle name? Was that really necessary? Legally speaking he supposed so, but- he scanned through his memoirs, trying to remember any birth certificates or official paperwork he’d seen before.

Surely with all the foster parent transfers he’d had to have seen his legal name somewhere. He couldn’t remember it, no one had ever told him. How had he never realized that.

“Middle name?” The voice asked again in, was that annoyance? A lull to the end of the words. A tilt in vowels, that’s what annoyance sounded like, right?

“Uh, E.” He muttered.

“E?”

“That’s, all I can remember. Sorry”

It was silent a moment before the voice spoke again.

“Please present your watam to the scanner.”

There was another click hiss and the boy shifted for a moment before a beep that sounded like confirmation and the hiss click disappeared.

“You-“ the static began in confusion before clearing its throat and continuing in the professional yet annoyed voice. “I’ll contact your guardian.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” The boy said in what was almost a pleading voice.

“He’s already in town anyways.”

“What? No.” The boy whined. “Why?”

“Ask him when he gets here Wonbe.”

The boy exhaled in a controlled manner before inhaling as if drawing confidence from the air, “Fine. Thank you.”

There was another pregnant pause and Jake started to worry they weren’t going to let him in but then the voice clicked on again.

“Entrance appeal accepted, please follow the escorts to a holding room.”

“Hey hey!” The boy, was it Wonbe? Shook Jake’s shoulder softly. “We’re in.”

As the last word left his lips a grand hiss and grind rumbled the room and Wonbe quickly straightened out.

“Please follow us.” A woman’s soft voice joined the echoes and Jake took a shuffle to what was hopefully a good decision.

Chapter 1 / Chapter4 / Chapter 5

⭐️I'm a day late but shhh, anyways we finally made it into the tunnels raaa, I'm excited to write more Wonbe and other characters and flesh out the story now that the introduction is kinda endin 🌙

[briamichellewrites]

73

“You have everything! What do I have that you don't", Phoenix yelled.

"A father", Bria said.

He stopped and stared at her as realization hit him. She was right. He had forgotten that she had lost both of her parents. Tears were rolling down his face. I'm sorry. She hugged him tightly and held him. How did the argument start? He couldn't remember. Since using cocaine and Adderall with Chester and Kyle, his emotions were out of control.

His mind wanted more pills or more of anything to get him high. He didn't want to feel anything.

She told him she loved him. He loved her too. That was the truth. He loved her so much. She was part of his life forever. He wanted to hold her while also wanting to push her away. When he calmed down, he wiped his tears. At home, the house was quiet. His girls were with his father for spring break. Guilt got to him again as he thought about that.

He took two pills. They gave him energy and he felt restless. He had to do something, so he cleaned his house. It would be cleaner than it ever had been before. It would be sparkling clean! The drug worked for four to six hours. He did nothing except clean, clean, clean. What time was it? He didn’t know. Dishes… laundry… cleaning the bathrooms… cleaning all of the rooms… vacuum… dust… he had never been so clean in his life!

He dusted every little thing, even the tough-to-reach spots. His mother would be so proud of him! He imagined her telling him where to clean next. Good job, David! It looks great! He grinned as he moved around the house. Top to bottom. Did he clean the microwave? Better do it again just to be sure. What about the speck of dust on the floor? Better vacuum that up.

Phoenix! Phoenix! PHOENIX! He turned around and saw Mike. What the hell are you doing? He turned off the vacuum.

“It’s ten thirty in the morning! We were meeting at nine!”

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I lost track of time.”

“You couldn’t sleep, so you decided to vacuum?”

“Yeah. I had too much caffeine yesterday.”

Brad was not happy when he finally got to the studio. He wanted to talk to him, but not in front of everyone. Adderall. He was losing focus. If he took another pill, then they would know. He was antsy and was trying to hide it. He had to cross his legs to keep them from bouncing. Chester looked at him. He knew why he was late. If he said anything, he would implicate himself. He had to stay sober for a week because Talinda’s lawyer was going to test him for drugs and alcohol.

Adderall. Adderall. Adderall. He participated but his mind was halfway out the door. During their break, he went into the bathroom. He closed the stall door behind him and locked it. The door opened, as he took one of the pills from his pocket. He was about to swallow it but he heard Brad talking to someone. Instead, he took it out of his mouth and put it in his pocket.

“I don’t know. Something is going on. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s… something is going on. Maybe he relapsed. I hope not.”

“Let me talk to him”, Mike said.

He didn’t hear Brad saying anything. Just the door closing behind him. He came out and saw Mike waiting for him. Phoenix. He sighed and asked him what he wanted. What’s going on? Nothing. He was just going through a hard time with his depression. Was he drinking? No. That was the truth. He hadn’t had a drink since he went to rehab.

“Mike, I love you and I know you’re looking out for me. I’m okay. I promise.”

“What happened today?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I told you. I lost track of time.”

“Don’t do it again. Brad will be on your ass.”

“I won’t. I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

Dude! Did you take too many pills? – Chester

I only took two then I cleaned my house. I should have set an alarm because I had way too much energy. I was just going and going and going. I almost blew it with Mike. He and Brad are watching me like hawks. I can’t fuck up again. – Phoenix

Holy shit! Dude! I’m coming over tonight! – Chester

When they got to his place, he looked around in shock. Did he take fucking meth? No. What the hell did he do? They went to his living room and sat down. He didn’t even think about what he was doing. It was just go, go, go. He had to do something because he was restless. His body had to move around. Then, he was going to take it in the bathroom but he heard Brad talking about him.

“I fucked up.”

“I don’t know, man”

They went up to his room. In the bathroom, he found a handheld mirror. After pouring the powder out, he separated it into lines. Chester walked out after giving him a dollar bill. This was his fault. He had his best friend addicted to drugs. After a few minutes, he came back and found him energized. He kissed him and took off his shirt.

Chester kissed him back and brought him to the bed. Brad and Mike talked to Rob. He reported that Chester was spending a lot of time with Phoenix. The last time he came home, it was late. He was almost like a teenager trying to sneak in. They thanked him and had him promise not to say anything. They were going to watch both him and Phoenix. He promised to pretend like he didn’t know anything. Thank you. Chester came back an hour later.

He was sober but pumped up. Rob was in the kitchen making dinner when he came in. What was he making? It was a veggie burger. Did he want to try it? No, thanks. He went to the refrigerator and looked for something to eat. For the rest of the night, they watched TV together while he prepared his evidence.

Talinda and her lawyer were demanding a lot from him for the divorce. He was never getting married again. Twice was enough. They were fighting over custody, spousal support, and whatever else she could get from him.

He closed the folder before leaning back and closing his eyes. Was he okay? If he continued looking at the papers, he would go insane. He told him not to get married. Rob joked he would need a girlfriend first. He was still young, so he had time. He thanked him for thinking about him. You are welcome.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia