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aminiatureworld · 3 years

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Interest II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,020

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: I wrote a lot tonight! It was nice to write for multiple characters again, made me feel like the good old days, or something.

Hope I’m finally getting back on schedule and hope you enjoy!

Kaeya

If Kaeya flirted with you, he also flirted with all of Mondstadt; or so you kept telling yourself.

You liked the cavalry captain, you liked him a lot. It was easy to like him, as easy as breathing air. The thickets of romance, the awkward looks, the stilted conversations, the dying words. None of those things existed in Kaeya.

If there were roses there were thorns too, and though you tried to convince yourself that this emotion, this easiness was something good, there was a part of you that fought back at the idea. The reason things were so easy with Kaeya was because of one simple reason. He didn’t like you. Or not the way you liked him. Kaeya flirted with all of Mondstadt after all, and you were merely one library assistant in the middle of an entire country. Your existence wasn’t one for the history books. Not compared to the man that you’d managed to fall hopelessly in love with anyways.

At first you tried to ignore those voices, that cynical side of yourself that existed only, it seemed, to make you unhappy. You weren’t necessarily an optimist by nature, but you were a bit of a hopeless romantic, and flirting or not you at least hoped to get your point across. Delivering Kaeya’s library requests first, always going up to him at lunchtime to talk, even giving him a special gift for the Windbloom festival. You really did try, you didn’t think that the opposite could be argued. Still things continued on as relatively normal however, Kaeya’s flirting never seeming to grow particularly towards you. Eventually it became harder and harder to avoid the voice in your head sneering you were wasting your time. Or maybe you were just tired.

Either way the answer seemed to be obvious. You knew when the answer was to count your losses and move on, and surely this was one of those times. Kaeya wasn’t going to see you as a partner, he just wasn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t kind, or that your conversations with him weren’t lovely, or even that you weren’t still in love with him. Still, wasn’t it time to move on to kinder winds? You wanted a clean break, wanted an end to your painful waiting; didn’t want to experience that clench in your heart when you watched Kaeya flirting with someone else as the point just drove further and further home. You wanted reprieve, and the only way to do that was to admit the obvious. This wasn’t going to happen.

So you gave up, or did your best attempt at giving up. You still spoke to Kaeya, the gods knew you probably couldn’t stand not speaking to him. You still tried to keep as light as before, tried to retain the dynamic, for something was better than nothing. Yet your days of simply chasing after him were over, and as you settled into you schedule of new normalcy you found, though things weren’t necessarily easier, at least they seemed simpler. Besides, how much had really changed? Kaeya most likely didn’t notice.

“Kaeya, the manuscript you requested on Liyue trade history came in yesterday. There were also a few other things that came in, though Lisa told me they’re classified.”

“Oh Lisa, always a stickler for rules. Would you like to know what I requested?”

“Like you would actually tell me,” you snorted. “No, I’m fine. It’s none of my business.”

“Aw,” Kaeya pouted slightly, crossing his arms in front of him. He seemed to be doing that more often these days, though maybe you were simply imagining it. “Where’s your sense of adventure darling? You seemed to have lost it somewhere.”

“I’m just following rules,” you pointed out.

Something had shifted about the conversation at some point, and you were suddenly feeling an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Finding it uncomfortable you quickly removed the space between you and Kaeya, reaching out to place the brown paper wrapped books into his hands. Taking them Kaeya lifted an eyebrow. Turning around he went to put them on his desk.

The momentary reprieve in atmosphere you felt quickly died, as before you had time to turn around the cavalry captain was back, this time leaning closely towards you.

“What is it?” You asked. This was certainly Kaeya behavior, but it still startled you nonetheless.

“You’re acting funny.”

“What? I’m acting completely normal.”

“If you say so.”

But the tone conveyed that Kaeya didn’t agree one bit. A smirk painting his lips he turned around, though something bitter seemed to flash behind his eyes, and for a moment you wondered if he had somehow caught on to the secret you’d been hoping to keep to yourself.

After that things seemed to continue on as normal for a few weeks. If Kaeya’s books were secretly transgressive, they certainly weren’t doing anything actively, and life as an assistant librarian to the Knights of Favonius retained its languid, unhurried pace. Still a part of you had never forgotten about that weird snippet of conversation, one which was doing a surprisingly good job at eating away at you.

You were almost relieved when Kaeya brought the matter up again.

“Is something wrong darling?”

“You asked me that two weeks ago Kaeya.”

“Really? It’s been that long? I must be neglecting my duties,” he let out a careless sort of laugh, before his eyes steadied. “I was hoping that this time I might get a more honest answer.”

“So you think I’m lying to you when I’m saying nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not! How could I be lying to both you and myself.”

“I find that doing such a thing is a surprisingly easy task. Nevertheless, even if you aren’t lying, there is something wrong.”

“And what would that thing be, Mr. Expert?” For some reason this conversation was aggravating you. Maybe because you couldn’t decide whether or not he was right.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me. I can’t say sorry for something I’m not aware of, I don’t know what I did. You do though. So the sooner you tell me what’s wrong the sooner things can go back to normal.”

“What do you mean by normal Kaeya? If anything this is more normal. Not that things have changed that much. I’m sorry I don’t deliver your books first, if that’s what you’re complaining about. But frankly, I don’t see what you’re so upset about? You’ve got plenty of other friends, so why are you complaining to me?”

Maybe it wasn’t your best use of logic, but your ability to circle around the focus of the conversation, the unspoken emotions that still burned through you, was somewhat lacking.

“This is not normal. I’m not talking about library books, I’m talking about friends. Or maybe avoidance. You’ve been avoiding me lately, even if you aren’t doing it completely. It wounds me, you know. My dearest companion, what did I do to earn their ire?”

“You did nothing.”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Kaeya voice was clipped, matching your same tone. Even now he was shifting himself to better fit the atmosphere in the room, something you normally valued so deeply.

“It’s not. It’s really not! That’s the problem Kaeya, don’t you see?” Tears that had threated the corners of your eyes were now burning across your vision, as your emotions finally broke through the paltry excuse for a dam you’d been building. “You’ve done nothing, you’ve never done anything. You’re always nice, and flirty, and a bit shameless. And that’s fine! It’s not your fault that you don’t feel like I feel for you. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. You flirt with everyone, and that’s fine. I don’t care! I really don’t. I don’t want to burden you. Still, can’t you just let me feel upset by it? Can’t you just let me give up? Do you know how painful it is not to give up? Why won’t you let me at least do that, but no! Instead you come in here talking about how everything’s different, as if I’ve offended you, or as if you worry would change anything. Of course it won’t! And it shouldn’t! But damn it Kaeya, I just want to be upset!”

By this time Kaeya had closed the space between you two, wrapping his arms around you and running soft, slightly cool, fingers through your hair. You nestled into him, despite yourself. You were so tired and so angry, and right now it didn’t really seem to matter who you cried on as long as you were crying on someone. Letting yourself be carried away by your emotions you let your ragged breathing unleash itself inside the walls of Kaeya’s office.

Eventually you calmed down. Though you expected Kaeya to step away when your breathing evened out, instead he remained there, continuing to run comforting fingers though you hair, his other hand gently cradling your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was the reason.” It was simple, direct. Undeniably Kaeya.

“What else would be the reason,” you grumbled.

“I don’t know. It’s why I asked. Thank you for answering me.”

“You forced me into it.” There was no true venom behind your words. You were sure Kaeya knew that.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Not yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“That’s alright. Now’s not the best time anyways, since I ought to look my best. Not that I don’t look amazing already, but I should dress up for an occasion such as that. Still, I hope that eventually you’ll allow yourself to live in a way that doesn’t make you unhappy. Sometimes we can’t do that. This time you can.”

“Maybe.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you darling, and you know how impatient I am.”

“What if you have to wait for a long time?” You were feeling quite contrary.

“Then I’ll wait. After all, I’ll have quite the reward for my patience.”

You smiled into Kaeya. Despite yourself, you knew it wouldn’t be that long.

Xiao

With Xiao, the question was always boundaries. How far is too far? How far is not far enough? It was an endless maze, even if it was a maze you would gladly continue to explore, sure that the light at the end must lead to something truly beautiful. Still, you didn’t exactly need your emotions to come in and complicate something already so difficult to navigate.

At first you tired to ignore, to take a page from the book the yaksha you’d so hopelessly fallen for had written. Yet if was much harder than it ought to be, for loving Xiao seemed to come as naturally as breathing, and no amount of looking for faults seemed to be doing much to change that. After all, everyone has faults, and nothing could change the innate goodness you saw in Xiao, the wonder and light that he carried with him, despite his millennia of hardships.

At first you thought to tell him, to cross that border, find that boundary and test it with all the patience it had taken to test and cross those other boundaries.

“Xiao?”

“Mmm.”

“I, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“I, I made you some Almond Tofu!”

Xiao let his eyes widen with characteristic surprise, before leaping down nimbly from his perch to take the dish you brought out from behind your back. You watched as he ate it happily, warmth running through your veins. Nevertheless a part of you cried in frustration, perhaps even pain, for you knew you had failed to do what you had set out to do.

It wasn’t simply that you feared losing Xiao’s friendship, feared losing his respect. It was the boundaries, those invisible lines you were so careful not to step over. Xiao needed those boundaries, you knew he did. Though he had told you very little about his past, what he had told was horrific, and you hardly doubted that Xiao’s survival, his failure to spin into madness, was because of those walls he’d carefully constructed around himself. You wanted him to shed those walls yes, to slowly emerge from the darkness which he held around himself. But you weren’t ready to push him to do so, or not very much at least. It wasn’t truly in your nature to do so anyways.

So you expressed your feelings as best you could, with tofu and flowers and all the kindness you had to offer. When you weren’t working, spending your time sewing for a high-end Liyue shop, you were with Xiao. A part of you assumed that it would be enough, that if you gave Xiao enough of your time and enough of your attention the barriers would magically break down. One day you’d wake up and they’d be gone and you’d be happy, having never pushed things too far.

As nothing truly seemed to change however you grew slowly discouraged. You weren’t really aware of your flagging hopes, not really. It was more that you were busy, you were so busy. Besides, Xiao hadn’t expressed much sadness over losing your company. Perhaps he was secretly relieved, perhaps you had pushed too far at some point and he hadn’t told you. Maybe it was best that you give his boundaries time, and not push it too far.

Even looking back it was hard not to call the logic sound, or at least sound to you. In some ways you and Xiao were cut of the same cloth, and though that brought with it an understanding, it also brought its own set of issues. Neither of you were willing to walk over the line that the other drew, even if you could not see where they had actually drawn it. Even if not doing so was painful, the fear of what pain might come if you did was too great a discouragement.

So you began to slowly fade away, without being entirely aware that you were indeed doing so. You were busy after all, and Xioa was most likely too. He was still a yaksha after all, a being whose life was almost completely disconnected from your own. Surely it wouldn’t be that surprising if his views were similar? Maybe you truly had crossed a line, and that was why he never seemed to enquire after you. Or maybe it was that you hadn’t mattered all that much in the first place.

It was a wet, cold autumn day. You sighed slightly as you unlocked your door, having gotten drenched by protecting a bold of fabric you were bringing home to cut and pin. Letting out a huff, you opened the door and went to take a nap. You must’ve been tired, for it took a few seconds for the screech of surprise to leave you mouth at the sight of the unexpected intruder waiting for you.

“Xiao! You scared me!”

You stared at the yaksha, very much surprised by the sight of him. Your surprise had very little time to register though, being quickly replaced by concern for the storm so clearly gathering in Xiao’s eyes.

“You were gone for so long.”

“I’m sorry Xiao. It’s just been so busy you know, everyone’s preparing for the change in season. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I mean, I know you also have a job, and though I want you to find happiness outside of it, I don’t want to pressure you.”

Xiao’s facial expressions evidently conveyed that he was not impressed. Searching for the right words you let your gaze drift towards the floor. You weren’t sure that you were ever going to be ready for a conversation like this, but certainly not in the state you were now. Still, you owed Xiao some sort of explanation. Of course you did.

“I’m really sorry Xiao. I should have found time for you. It’s completely my fault.”

“That’s not what I want.” Xiao’s tone was gruff, frustrated. You found the frustration mirrored within yourself.

“What do you want?”

“I,” Xiao flushed. “I don’t want you to apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything. You shouldn’t apologize for nothing.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Xiao shook his head. For a moment he just stood there, eyes stormy. Slowly though he reached out to take your hand. You found the act surprisingly comforting. You had missed Xiao’s hands, delicately built, calloused beyond believe. They felt comforting and warm and safe, and you wished you could never let go of them. Drawing strength from that you slowly raised your gaze slightly.

“What do you want, Xiao?”

At first Xiao said nothing. Perhaps he was staring at a line, contemplating whether to cross it. You had half the mind to apologize again, but managed to stop the words from coming out. You knew that it was just a force of habit. Besides, Xiao hadn’t said anything yet. A small spark of hope burned inside you, the hope that something might go well.

There was a gentle tug on your wrist and suddenly you were in Xiao’s arms, his hair gently tickling your nose.

“This,” he mumbled. “I want this.”

For a moment you felt yourself freeze in shock, but soon enough you found yourself melting into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around him. Xiao was warm like a heater, warm beyond that too. It was as if there was something in his soul. Gentle, flickering, it brought you happiness that you never thought you could imagine. You wanted to bask in it forever, it was worth any twists and turns you might have to take to reach it.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

“I should have come earlier.”

“It’s alright. Hey, Xiao?”

“What?” Xiao’s arms tightened around you slightly. You didn’t want to talk much more either.

“What do you think of me?”

Xiao let out a soft snort. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

#genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #xiao x reader #xiao #alatus #Genshin Impact fanfiction #scenarios #fanfiction #my writing #requested #gn reader

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viperbarnes · 3 years

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The Tie That Binds – [Four of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: THANK YOU FOR WAITING!!! I reaaallly hope you enjoy this chapter ;) This one is a little longer, to make up for the shortness of the last chapter. Let me know what you think!!!

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It’s late, your phone tells you that much.

Blinking quickly awake, you catch your breath and reach immediately for the device, checking the time with a deep frown. You feel as though you’d only just managed to fall asleep, which makes the loud knocking on your door even more annoying.

For several seconds you just sit on your bed and listen. Perhaps it was one of your neighbours, coming home drunk and not realising this wasn’t their place, but then the sound comes again and you have to cross that option off.

The banging was too precise, too sharp to be someone inebriated.

You’re pulling a thick sweater over your head as you make your way through your living room, cautiously. The knocking hadn’t come again, and you wonder if your visitor had left.

You pull open the door quickly, frowning deeper still at why on earth Bucky was on your doorstep at three in the morning. You don’t even manage to take him in properly before he’s stepping forward, his wide, wild eyes sweeping over you, searching.

“I came as soon as we landed, what happened?!” He asks, deep worry filling his voice, his features pinched in panic. You blink in confusion, taking a slight step away from him, but only so that you can properly take in his completely overwhelming appearance.

You’d seen him return from missions with minor scrapes and bruises before, but nothing about his current look was ‘minor’.

A large cut on his forehead that reaches up into his hairline is caked with both drying and still wet blood, the rest of his face filthy with the clear remnants of a brutal fight. You can’t tell if the blood on his lips was from his nose, or if he’d cut there too. Even his uniform is all but ruined, ripped and torn in various places, blood splattered all over his jacket, and even worse, a large gash along his thigh, deep and still weeping.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky!” You exclaim, unable to stop yourself. Bucky’s brows only knit further together and he steps closer.

“Are you alright? I couldn’t call, my phone got– it doesn’t matter, are you okay?” He looks you over again, as if you were the one currently bleeding, but you realise rather suddenly why he had come and why he was so worried.

Your face heats up approximately a million times hotter than the sun.

“I’m– I’m fine, I… That wasn’t– I didn’t mean for you to–!” Your voice cuts out as mortification fills you and you drop your face into your hands. Bucky’s face floods with relief, and then a small amount of displeasure as he seems to fully relax, shoulders sagging a bit under what you can only assume is a very sore body.

“You said to call you ASAP.” He mutters, and you wince.

“I know, I know… But I didn’t mean for it to sound like… I’m such an idiot, I didn’t even think about how it might sound…” You scold yourself, finally lifting your head from your hands to look at him apologetically. Bucky sighs, and you can see him forcefully reigning back his ire.

“As long as you're okay…” He sighs again. You want to apologise again, but a drop of blood seeps out from his hairline and you straighten.

“What the hell happened to you!?” You ask, stepping aside and allowing him to amble into your home.

“Got blown up.” He states shortly. He doesn’t make to elaborate, but you don’t think you need him to.

“It’ll mostly be healed by morning.” He informs you, turning his head to look back at you as he peels off his blue leather jacket. With his back to you now, you can see even more large gashes in his back, having torn right through his clothes and left his back looking as though he’d been lashed.

You can remember the Winter Soldier returning from missions looking just as terrible, the gore was sometimes too much for you to handle.

As if realising for the first time that he’d entered your home, Bucky looks around with a frown and then quickly grabs his ruined jacket back from the countertop he’d just placed it on.

“I should go. Let you get back to sleep.” He tells you, already moving for your door again. You don’t exactly know why, but panic lances through you, making you hurriedly step in his path, blocking him off.

“What? No, no, no, you need to clean up!” You blurt, swallowing thickly when his expression shifts slightly, into something unreadable.

“It’s late… and I’ll be fine.” It sounds less like he’s making his excuse to leave and more like he’s trying to reassure you, his voice softer and more soothing than you’d expected.

You blink at him, and try to figure out why exactly you didn’t want him to go.

Granted in the past few weeks you’d become increasingly close, it was actually something you’d started worrying about. It was as if time ceased to exist when he wasn’t around, only starting up again when you saw each other. More and more you’d started to feel lonely, had started to look at the little scar on the back of your hand and yearn.

And that was scary.

Scarier was the way that any and all reservations you’d had about Bucky had completely dissolved, replaced instead by a sense of warmth, and comfort and safety.

You swallow again, and shake your head.

“I’m not letting you go home like this.” You tell him.

“Seriously, you need to sit down and clean up as soon as possible. You look bad.” You gesture at his head and thigh.

“I’m fine, really–” Bucky begins, but his voice hitches when his knee seems to momentarily give. He catches himself quickly, one hand steadying himself on the wall, and you know he’s lying to you through his teeth because he doesn’t even try biting back the curse he lets out.

“Bucky…” You scold warningly, crossing your arms over your chest, even as he relents. You don’t think about the fact that he’d barely put up a fight, or that when he carefully begins moving again, that he knows his way through your home, even in the dim light.

He groans as he sits down on the toilet seat, looking even worse under the harsh lights of your bathroom.

“Dislocated my knee.” He grunts, eyes keenly trained on you as you move around him, procuring a clean towel and a couple of washcloths from the cupboard, and getting the water in the shower running for him.

“Do you… are you okay to get in yourself, or…?”A sudden sheepishness fills you, having not considered the realities of making him stay, but he shakes his head, and reaches to pull his black shirt off.

Dumbly, you stare for several seconds too long as the fabric is peeled from his body and tossed into your tiny bin, your eyes glued to the broad expanse of his chest and abs, a body you’d seen a hundred times before, but somehow, feels brand new now. Bucky notices, of course he does, but thankfully doesn’t say anything as you hurry to avert your gaze, jumping around to face the mirror, which doesn’t really help.

“I– I have some mens clothing. Some sweatpants and a jumper. I bought them for me, but they’re big enough… they should fit you okay…” You ramble, pretending to tidy up the multitude of things you have on and around your sink.

“Thanks.” He says quietly, grunting softly as he works on his boots.

You pause again, stuck staring, as for the first time since you’d met him two months ago, you were able to see his metal arm completely uncovered.

You’d picked up that it was new, the black and gold colouring of his hand a give away, but he hadn’t said much on the subject. You knew it was a gift from Wakanda, and had theorised from that information that it was made of vibranium.

Your eyes travel over the sleek, geometrically interlocking panels, of how it moved and folded almost organically. You turn back to face him to get a better look, your curiosity too much as you take it in. The fingers were deft and far more slender than the arm you’d worked on, much more like his flesh hand. The joints and knuckles were traced in gold and you realise that the black vibranium (?) was actually encasing a layer of more delicate golden panelling underneath, allowing for both acute fine-motor skill and reinforcement to lend added strength–

You’re shocked from your thoughts when you realise Bucky stares right at you, his movements frozen in place. When you further realise that you’ve moved away from the sink and now hold his forearm in both your hands, you let out a startled gasp, and jump back, releasing him.

You can’t even think of what to begin saying to him, and for several moments you both just stare at one another.

“I– I, um…” You stutter, face growing warm. Bucky slowly tears his eyes from you to look at his arm, but his gaze quickly returns.

“You can… You can have a look, if you want…” He offers, voice even and unreadable. You blink.

“I know you were working on this kind of stuff before… prosthetic limb enhancem–” He continues, but you’re snapped out of your daze, cutting him off quickly.

“No. No thank you.” You say, a little more harshly than you intend, but a cold prickle has begun creeping it’s way up your spine. Bucky closes his mouth and just watches you. You step even further away from him and shake your head.

“I don’t– I don’t ever want to think about any of that again.” Your voice feels stiff, and both embarrassment and discomfort force your decision to exit out of the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

You feel bad about your behaviour, and as you lay in bed and replay the events again and again, it almost makes you want to step out of your bedroom and apologise. It wasn’t as if you’d have to go anywhere. After he’d finished cleaning up, looking a hell of a lot better already but still walking stiffly due to his knee, you’d quietly insisted he at least stay until his leg healed.

Bucky hadn’t argued, and you try not to linger on his seeming willingness to stay. It makes your blood pump a little faster, and your mouth feel both dried and over-salivating at the same time. You think again about your strange relationship, how things were evolving, and about how you could almost trick yourself into thinking you felt tingling on the back of your hand sometimes.

You’d been trying to ignore the feeling, not only because it was insane for you to feel as such about him of all people, but mostly because Bucky’s soulmark was black. Black, meaning he already had a soulmate.

Somewhere out there, Bucky Barnes’ perfect half was waiting for him to find them. Maybe they were even looking for him. The thought feels like a punch in the gut, but it wasn’t the first time recently that you’d had to remind yourself of the fact.

Whatever weird, strange feelings you’d developed, it was all pointless.

You roll over and brush the thoughts from your mind. You’d never fall asleep that way. Sleep didn’t always come so easy to you, and it had already been late when Bucky had arrived, and so you let the warmth of your blankets and the knowledge that your home was a hundred times safer with him inside it lull you into unconsciousness.

---

The Winter Soldier sits bloodied and battered in the chair before you, his chin turned down toward his chest, but his eyes flickering around the room, looking as dark and as menacing as always. His gaze lands on you for mere moments before it’s moving on, clearly not deeming you as a threat.

Around you, the room bustles with an unusual amount of people, talking rapidly and low in Russian. Your shoulder is jabbed harshly and you quickly continue to move forward, gingerly pulling up a nearby stool and moving to place your small bag of tools on the trolley provided.

A doctor of some kind stands on the Soldier’s other side, his gloved hands covered in bright crimson as he attends to a wound you refuse to look at. He seems distracted however, looking back and over his shoulder at another man every so often, gesturing and pointing at his patient’s body.

Perhaps the fact that the Soldier had been watching the room when you entered should have given it away, should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but you were so often surrounded by danger these days that the change in demeanour hadn’t made a mark.

You move to take your seat, just as the doctor leans back in and that's when the Soldier snaps.

His broken body lunges to his feet, moving faster than you have time to register, and you don’t even get to see what he does next. The air is knocked out of you, a pain pulsing in your abdomen and chest, and then your back as you suddenly hit the bare concrete wall, crumpling like fabric to the floor.

You’re aware the room has erupted into chaos, of shouting and the clicking off of safeties on guns, but for several minutes you’re only able to clutch at your stomach, gasping for breath. You aren’t hurt, not fatally anyway, there had been no knife in the fist that had swung out and batted you away like a ping pong ball, but the force would surely leave bruising.

You catch a brief glance of the Soldier with his hand around the doctor’s throat, until you realise that his hand is in fact around a scalpel that is lodged inside the doctor’s throat, and you look away again.

The guards and his handler all hurry to diffuse the situation, garbled shouts and threats in a language you don’t understand, as tears begin to prickle your eyes. You were lucky to be alive, all things considered, just unlucky enough to be standing so close when he’d snapped. But although you weren’t dead, or dying, the blow had hurt.

Too soon for your liking a hand is harshly grabbing your bicep and yanking you to your feet.

The room seemed to have returned to how it had been before, the only signs of change being the dead body lying on the ground beside the Soldier, and the cuffs that were strapped around his wrists, holding him to the chair.

The hand holding you pushes you to walk forward, and you dig your heels in.

“No, please, I don’t–” You start, feeling your whole body begin to shake in panic. You’re cut off by another man, Karpov, who steps into your line of sight with a curled lip.

“Fix it.” He demands, accent heavy around his words. Your fear of the man behind him outweighs your fear of him, and you find yourself shaking your head, struggling to try and break free of the tight hold on you.

“No, I can’t, I can’t! Please–” This time you’re cut off by a sharp slap that sends your head flying to the side, the sound ringing in your ears and seemingly bouncing off the walls. Your chin is grabbed roughly and yanked to attention.

“You will fix him. Now.” Karpov spits, releasing you just as the guard holding you jerks you forward once more.

You’re pushed down onto your seat, your trolley of tools shoved beside you, the noise making you jump. For several seconds you can only sob, your whole body shaking violently as you try not to cringe away from the Soldier, who sits impassive now, his eyes turned down, his body slumped.

A harsh prod to your shoulder makes you move, and slowly you begin the process of opening up the metal arm, diagnosing the problems, and fixing them.

Your hands tremble the whole time, and your crying gets softer, but doesn’t stop, the pain in your abdomen pulsing and aching.

You wake with a sharp inhale, but as the dream fades and the morning sets in, you release it with sigh.

The dreams hadn’t become less frequent since Bucky had come into your life, but the power they once held over you, the ability to put you on edge and send your anxiety spiralling for the next few days had all but disappeared.

It was as though the fear of him specifically had become detached from your memories, and regardless of your friendship, you were grateful to leave it behind.

The events of last night begin to trickle back to you as you stretch and groan, waking up properly and considering all that had happened. You don’t know if Bucky had stuck around through the night, or had taken off in the early hours, but you know you still needed to apologise for your reaction in the bathroom, so forcing yourself out from your sheets, you pull on a thick sweater and stuff your feet in your slippers before making your way out of your bedroom.

It was still early in the morning, the sun only just beginning to rise, and you find yourself pausing in your doorway, eyes transfixed on the sight that was Bucky Barnes lit up in the morning light.

He wasn’t asleep, nor did you expect him to be if he had stuck around, but the view is no less breathtaking, the sun illuminating his side profile as if to tease you, to put on full display what you knew you could never have.

Bucky looks up from his phone after a moment, spurring you to move again, absently making for your kitchen.

“Morning.” You greet, mouth dry still.

“Morning. I already got coffee.” Bucky’s words make you pause again, and you blink at the sight you’d obviously missed with ogling him; two large takeaway cups, still in the little cardboard holder.

The cups are marked with the labelling from the cafe you’d often meet at, the one Bucky had revealed was his favorite only after you’d gushed about how good their coffee was.

“Oh,” Is all you’re able to say for a moment, changing paths to move slowly, almost gingerly toward him and the cup and now holds out for you.

“Thanks…” You continue when you’ve carefully plucked the drink from his fingers, and made the decision to take the seat beside him on the sofa.

Bucky takes his own coffee then, and you realise he’d been waiting for you to wake up before he’d started on his own. The thought makes your tummy flutter, but you tell yourself it’s only the memory of your dreams.

“Thanks for letting me stay… I probably shouldn’t have been getting around on my knee as much as I was.” Bucky says after he’s taken a sip from his cup. You watch him scrunch up his nose and fiddle with the lid, pulling it off and placing it aside. He always hated how small the drinking holes were.

“Of course. You looked awful, but I would have felt worse sending you off… especially since you’d come all this way to check on me.” You shrug, shooting him a smile.

Bucky grimaces momentarily.

“Yeah… You had me worried.” He tells you, and your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“You were?”

Bucky frowns dramatically and nods his head.

“Sam almost insisted on coming, just in case.” He informs you, and you have to tsk at yourself.

“Sorry…”

You both sit in amiable silence for a while and you try to hold together your mess of a mind, a scrambled concoction of thoughts and feelings.

“I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories last night… about…” Bucky speaks first, breaking the quiet and you blink at him for several seconds as his meaning sets in. You duck your head and try to keep from sighing.

“No, I shouldn’t have reacted so sourly.” You shake your head, and begin to fiddle with your coffee cup, tracing the printed sides.

“All I ever wanted to do was help people, I’d studied for almost ten years, and I was going to accept my dream job at Stark Industries… and then HYDRA happened…” You don’t look at him, you can’t. You’d never spoken about this before, not with anyone, even during your ‘trial’ after you’d gotten free.

“I could have fixed my window,” You say, gaining the courage briefly to lift your head and make eye contact. Bucky’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t speak.

“I could fix my shitty shower head, and noise my garbage disposal makes,” You gesture wildly to your kitchen and shake your head.

“But I can’t even pick up a screwdriver without my hands starting to shake.” You sigh, feeling almost lighter for confessing, despite the distress in your words.

Bucky drops his head, looking to his lap as he swallows, before he lifts his eyes again. You suddenly regret bringing it up. You know he felt guilty, you know divulging your reasoning would only make it worse. He opens his mouth, but you speak before him.

“It’s not your fault. Please don’t…” Your words catch in your throat at the way he stares at you, and you have to break away for a second, take a sip of your rink before you can continue.

“Please don’t apologise.”

He doesn’t apologise, but he doesn’t speak either, sitting back further, slumping over slightly. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for it. For anything. He’d done so much for you, had helped you more than he’d ever hurt you, but you aren’t sure how to tell him that.

“I had a dream last night,” You blurt suddenly, catching his attention again. You can see that the hand he doesn’t hold his coffee in is balled up, his whole body rigid and stiff.

“It was… I don’t know if you remember, but you’d come back from some mission, and you looked like shit,” You half chortle at the way he lifts his brow tightly.

“You were on edge, I guess, something not quite right… You attacked a doctor…”

“I remember.” Bucky nods, brow furrowing again, likely at the memory of what he’d done to the man. But then he looks sideways at you, his frown turning curious more than anything else.

“I don’t remember you being there…” He murmurs. You swallow and force a tight smile.

“That’s because you batted me away when you stood up.” You joke, and he makes a face as he ‘ahs’.

You watch him stare at the coffee in his hands for several seconds, sorting through his thoughts and emotions silently.

“I’d stopped having those kinds of dreams so much before you came around, and then they started up again.”

He looks at you then, expression sad but unreadable, his eyes flickering across your features as he tries to figure out your tone.

“That first day, when you came and apologised, I couldn’t help but be terrified. I knew what had happened to you, what they’d done, and that you’d been getting better, but I couldn’t help it.” You almost regret telling him that, watching as his eyes turn even sadder, but you needed to, to make sure the next part made sense.

“I wasn’t able to sleep for days… I kept thinking it was all some trick and… and you were going to come back and take me away again.”

You purse your lips and turn your cup around in your hands, your pulse speeding up with nerves and anxiety.

“... And I think that’s so funny now,” You can’t help but laugh around your words, shaking your head as Bucky looks up at you sharply, confusion clearer on his features now.

“Funny?” He asks, voice flat, as if he suspected you might be making fun of him. You nod.

“It’s funny because these days I feel safest when you are around.” You confess, feeling very raw and open, feeling like perhaps he would see right through you.

Bucky just watches you for a while, his face returning to that unreadable expression he often wore, the confusion now gone. You start to wonder if he’d understood you properly.

“It feels like even if somebody did try to take me, you might not let them…”

“I would never let them.” Bucky says quickly, hurriedly, as if snapping out of a trance. You blink at him, a little surprised by the intensity behind his words, but he just shakes his head, frowning as he leans forward to put aside his coffee cup, and turns to face you on the couch.

“Listen to me; I will never let that happen again.” Bucky reiterates, firmer this time, making you jump slightly when his hand curls around yours. You inhale sharply, suddenly thrown off kilter and off course. You’d only wanted to make him see how much he’d done for you, but now you have no idea what was happening.

You look down at his hand in yours, and then back to his face with bewilderment, startled again when he squeezes your fingers in prompt.

“I… I believe you. I know.” You stutter and stumble over the words, feeling suddenly like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Bucky nods, and swallows, and then he’s kissing you.

You can’t help but gasp against his lips, and you’re almost certain that this whole morning has been a fake out, and you hadn’t really woken up yet. His hand not held in your own comes to gently hold your face, and even though you felt like you were drowning, responding feels bizarrely natural.

His kisses you sweet, contrary to the suddenness of it all, lips dancing slow and smooth across your own, tentative and hesitant behind the bold move. Your mind spins, elation and happy disbelief shooting through you, that you weren’t alone in having developed strange feelings. Your hand is released for a moment, only for your coffee to be tugged lightly from your other, and you don’t know where it goes, don’t really care, because now you were free to return his hold.

It feels a little awkward at first, it wasn’t as though you’d done anything like this in more than a decade, but you eventually let your arm wrap around his shoulder, slipping your hand a little shyly up to the hair at the nape of his neck. Bucky hums against your mouth in what you think is approval, and you scratch the spot a little more confidently.

And then, as if a brick had been tossed through your window, you’re shocked back to your senses.

You pull away from him quickly, jumping back and tearing yourself apart. Bucky looks surprised, and you can only stare back at him with wide eyes, breathing harder than you’d like to admit.

“What are you doing?” You manage to get out, your voice far too breathy and affected. Bucky’s brow furrows.

“You– You have a soulmate!” You tell him, trying not to sound like you were scolding him, gesturing to the hand that had previously been holding your face, the little black mark on his wrist clearly visible.

You wait for him to reply, and his expression seems to go through a journey before he focuses back on you.

“You said to me once that soulmate or not, there was still choice involved,” He speaks carefully, looking as anxious as you felt. He sucks in a breath, and looks at his wrist, before pulling his sleeve over it, and slowly holding his hand out toward you.

“I don’t– I don’t know who this is. But I know you.”

The words may as well sucker punch you in the gut, and you feel just as winded as you had in your dream. You can only stare at him, and his hand, in mild disbelief, but he doesn’t budge, doesn’t take it back.

“… Really…?” Your voice is meek, small, and belongs to the tiny part of you that didn’t feel damaged, or broken, the part of you that had still held out hope. Bucky’s lips quirk in the corners, and understanding that you won’t be able to reach for him yourself, he moves closer again, both hands cupping your face now, but instead of kissing you properly, he leans up to press a kiss to your forehead. Somehow it feels even more intimate, confirms the truth in his words even more than his lips on yours would have.

“Really.” He promises you.

If you like or enjoy, a comment or reblog is always highly appreciated! Thank you for reading!!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: TTTB

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blanc-et-n0ir · 3 years

Text

Prey

(Decided to do "Writing rivals centric drabbles to feed #RIVALSTWT until the two of them lore stream again. This drabble was inspired by Naeruns' SkyWars! Techno and Manhunt!Dream AU. Day 15)

He dodged the arrow and frantically searched for a hiding spot. He has never been this stressed before in his entire life—especially not during a manhunt. Except, this time was different.

He was against the blood god, Technoblade.

He had reason to worry. Especially if the motherfucker himself had good aim and he was currently trying to shoot him down from the trees. Dream huffed and continued to dodge the arrows raining down on him. It was like that time the hunters decided to trade arrows and rain it all on him until they ran out except this time, Dream had an inkling Techno had a high chance of hitting him and slowing him down for a few moments in the game.

Maybe challenging Techno to a Manhunt right before the famed Manhunt team up was a bad idea. It just made Dream’s heart race more and made him feel more like prey than anything else. It baffled Dream but he realized—the moment Techno got armor—that the man alone made him feel more like prey than any number of hunters ever did.

It made a shiver run up his spine when another arrow just barely grazed past his cheek and impaled itself on the ground near him. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and pushed himself to run faster and faster.

“Come on, this isn’t fun.” Techno mused, his voice crackling from the earpiece Dream wore.

Dream let out a startled laugh, “Please! It’s only begun!”

And it has, they haven’t even reached the Nether yet and Dream already almost felt like losing. He wonders how long he’ll last when he’s hunting Techno—the man wasn’t used to speedrunning yet. He yelped, startled out of his thoughts, when another arrow just nicked his arm and he sped up. He was going to find the portal and hope the Nether didn’t make things harder and scarier.

It made things harder and scarier.

Dream will never do this again. He is never doing this ever fucking again. He refuses to die on the hill he climbed. He is going back down now—he is—

“Oh Dream!”

“FUCK!” Dream screeched, vaulting over the rock formation and freezing when he heard laughter from Techno’s side.

“Got you.”

“Fuck you, fuck you- fucking- FUCK YOU.” Dream swore. He is going to cut all of this in the final cut. He is not going to show everyone how scared he was, comedic effect can go die in a hill (Quackity can go die in a hill, he is not giving the raw footage to the man to review). “I was- holy shit.”

“Why were you scared?” Techno snorted, his voice still coming from the ear piece.

“There were like, a million withers going after me.” Dream hissed, tightening his hand around his stone axe because his iron one broke from the amount of withers he had to fight just from the fortress alone.

“L.”

“Fuck off, Technoblade.” Dream rolled his eyes, letting his eyes roam the terrain. He wasn’t sure if he had escaped the withers since they had no other target to refocus on—not like when the five hunters chased after him through the fortress and earned the ire from the mobs in the area.

The rest of the Nether was less stressful and he got the blaze rods he needed, no sight of his hunter in sight. He chuckled and walked out of the portal, tensing as he kept his guard up. He blinked when he saw nothing and frowned.

Then it hit him.

He let out a loud yell and blocked Techno’s attack with his shield. He started to panic as he kept Techno at bay but he knew that wouldn’t last for long.

The fight lasted for a very short time.

Dream groaned as he laid back on the ground in spawn. Techno’s laughter can be heard through the ear piece and he groaned even louder hoping to annoy his rival.

“We’re never doing this again.”

“Says you.” Dream could hear the grin. “I had fun.” “We’ll see how much fun you have when I’m hunting you.”

#technoblade #dream #technoblade mcyt #dream mcyt #mcyt #mcyt drabble #mcyt fanfiction #drabble #fanfiction #oneshot #rivalstwt #rivalsblr #rivalsduo #dsmp

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flowers-of-io · 3 years

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@eri-223 you brought it upon yourself, now I won’t shut up c:

OKAY SO

I can’t really draw neat straight lines between the two, but there’s so much aesthetic similarity to me, particularly with Toland and the Hive-Ascendancy thing. Maybe it’s just me dying for the vibes (or loving POTO in general since I was 9), but it struck me today how Eris/Toland--when it’s made a Working ship--is basically everything Christine/Erik is not. There is so much to be said about Christine/Erik alone, but to me it’s an epitome of why gothic-novel-esque dynamics don’t really work in the long run when they don’t move past being just Gothic and Tragic. And hear me out. A goodhearted, elfin woman at her vulnerable point (grief over father) meets a honey-voiced stranger and has this secret thing with him, this music they share in the dead of night, and it’s intoxicating because music *is* her passion (and something she has deep emotions over in itself, the thing that is most hers in the world) and it’s secret, and a whole other world to what she’s facing in the daytime. The mystery is intriguing, and that’s intoxicating too. And there’s an uncomfortable power imbalance but it doesn’t bother you just yet, because there isn’t really any attraction between the two--not in the romantic-as-in-love sense at least, rather this romantic-as-in-romanticism pull all dark beautiful secret things have.

And here we can shout a fucking thank you at Erik for completely ruining that beauty by being an absolute creep. But Chrissie doesn’t know that yet. And so he leads her deep down into the dark, into his world of darkness and secrecy and yet twisted beauty, and she is living the mystery now, she’s in this nighttime world they would share in secret. And she’s close enough to take a peek behind the mask, something she was so violently curious about and attracted to, a glance into the dark abyss of his soul that is so intriguing. And so she does peek, and what she finds is terrifying rot.

And this, THIS is the best moment of the entire thing to me. This story could be well off without Raoul (whom I deeply love and cherish but he ruins the gothic) because he adds this romantic tension of a love triangle (which I absolutely loathe because ugh. love triangles.) to what could have been a tale of a girl torn between the world of day and night rather than two men who each love her in a different way. There’s so much of Persephone-sque struggle in Christine’s soul that has been shunned by the story imo, and would have made the whole thing better in the long run (and maybe less grossly-abusive on Erik’s part).

So let’s circle back to Toland, another pale, bony, possibly disfigured brunet in a dark coat with a living room full of skulls and candles (the vibes, huh. he probably owned a boat and a horse too). If we take Eris/Toland as starting off before the Hellmouth (I’m really starting to tentatively test my ground on this hhhng), it feels like the same story slightly to the left. Granted, Eris has more agency, but there’s still a huge power imbalance in her and Eriana coming to Toland--an exiled genius|madman with an evil black crow (Guren) perching on his shoulder--and asking him for help, laying their and their team’s lives at his feet - him, who could probably kill them in seventeen different yet equally fancy ways were he more invested! And there is so much darkness here already because how dark it must have been in Eris’ soul to agree on this revenge fantasy, what an abyss Eriana’s eyes must have been hiding; how desperate they must have been to come to him, to even consider this, to choose a possibility of painful, screaming agony in the Hellmouth over the ache they were feeling now. And so there’s vulnerability, too, in a way - because they’re desperate, because they’re hurting, because everything has been taken from them and they have nothing else to do but this ridiculous, mad plan. And oh he can abuse this void, he can make them do whatever he wants and they’d do it gladly, and I have a feeling both Eris and Eriana are aware of that.

And so they work, in secret, cracking secrets of the Hive, tasting the rot of the forbidden fruit, hiding from the daylight with their dark, heretic, nighttime folly. I think there is a threshold at wherever it is they are meeting--be it a room or a house, Eriana’s kitchen or Toland’s disturbing “lab”--in the doorway, between the bright but empty world of patrols and strikes and dead friends and this horrid, twisted, yet fascinating realm of promised vengeance. And I think Eris learns, hungry for secrets, hungry perhaps for Toland’s eyes on her because all dark beautiful secret things have a pull, and she can’t tell if she’s more drunk on the adventure, or the heresy they’re so blatantly committing, or him. And maybe he reciprocates in his own twisted way, maybe they talk or kiss over the parchment pages, and she cannot tell--she cannot tell if his eyes are truly for her or the Hive, the mystery, the thing they’re doing. I’m thinking of what you wrote, how “he wanted Ascendance as badly as she wanted him”. But despite that--or maybe because of it--she allows herself to be led deep down into the dark, into his world of darkness and secrecy and yet twisted beauty, and she is living the mystery now, she’s in this nighttime world they would share in secret. Is it the Hellmouth? Maybe, though I think it’s a process that spans between their secret studies of the Hive and the midst of their descent, when Vell is dead and maybe they’re all doomed, and Toland’s eyes twinkle in the dark and it’s such beautiful madness she cannot help staring. And the checkpoint has come, time to show cards--and she’s close enough to take a peek behind the mask, something she was so violently curious about and attracted to, a glance into the dark abyss of his soul that was so intriguing. And so she does peek, and what she finds is terrifying rot.

I think this is Ir Yut, or maybe a little bit earlier, but nevertheless the bubble bursts and Eris is left in the dark alone and betrayed. That’s of little concern, of course, when the Hive is hunting you down and all you hear is your friends’ dying screams, but it still hurts, it’s still bitter, it’s still so, so wrong. I like to think he comes to teach her then, maybe give her the journals, and it’s a whirlwind of madness and horror and fury and gore, but he’s whatever comfort she can hope for at this point. It’s twisted, it’s awful, it’s dark-gothic rotten, it’s as wrong and horrid as Erik/Christine is as a whole.

But then they’re given the chance Erik/Christine never got. They’re allowed to outgrow the rot. There’s so much dysfunctionality and disturb going on in most gothic-esque “love” stories because it’s not love, it’s attraction taken for a spin and often grossly abused. Love is growth. I like to think of what must have been going on in Eris’ head (and Toland’s too, perhaps, though I doubt he had one at that point) when they were exchanging the letters, the dearest Eris right next to did you watch me carve out each eye; now that she’s wiser, and scarred, and not so stupid anymore--but there’s still that dark pull she can’t help, now even scarier than before that she knows him for what he really is, now that she’s seen the rot. There’s so much hurt to be outgrown, so much betrayal, but she finds he’s yet again whatever comfort she can hope for (that entry *is* called A Light In The Darkness, huh). I could wax poetic about this whole process but I think you captured it so well in STM I don’t have much else to add.

I wanted to throw quotes into it but couldn’t quite fit them into this, uh, essay (which I didn’t absolutely re-read), and I guess Music of the Night would apply here but it’s ripe with uncomfortable sexual tension?? And aside from that (which is in its entirety a trip) just consider these ah

this whole moment

also this

He'll always be there singing songs in my head Is this Eris in the letters phase? maybe. I performed a vibe check and it showed positive

Wandering Child for how unhealthy-twisted and beautiful it is (ignore Raoul, I have no metaphor for him in this au)

For either way you choose, you cannot win It’s just a good quote y’all

Farewell my fallen idol and false friend / We had such hopes, and now those hopes are shattered

Angel of Music, you deceived me / I gave you my mind blindly (HOW SHE WHISPERS THAT LAST PART IN THE MOVIE OK)

Stranger than you dreamt it now you’re stranded in the Hellmouth good job

What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn / Beyond the point of no return

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn

Down that path into darkness deep as hell but Toland smiles while he sings this

And of course the classic, And in this labyrinth where night is blind / The Phantom of the Opera is here inside my mind

Wow! I didn’t even get to the Dreaming City! It’s way more vague than the whole Eris/Toland thing because of course ships take up 80% of my brainspace but idk I just find it so incredibly fitting when it comes to paralleling Savathun/Dul Incaru terrorising the Dreaming City with what Erik does to the opera. Like, everybody knows he’s There but no one can do anything about it, he sends vague threats and kills people but nobody can catch him, and the place is just a giant playground for him to have fun and achieve his personal goals in. And whatever the hell is going on in Masquerade, like

Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you

wow that sure is subtle. Seething shadows breathing lies, huh. Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you :) And then he crashes the party in a fucking Red Death costume. If this doesn’t have huge Dul Incaru/Siren of Riven energy I don’t know what has.

And of course the shitshow only starts when we kill Riven but the seeds have been planted long, long ago. If you listen closely, you can hear Petra screaming in confusion somewhere under box five.

I know most of this second part is a stretch, BUT! this is my au. And for the record, I know there are very mixed feeling about the 2004 POTO movie but to me personally it was a formative experience, first watched on a very crappy TV in music class at the age of 9 and not even in its entirety, but I was already captivated and shaken to the core, and there’s still, after all those years, something that screams at my soul when I hear the first notes.

And, as a treat for those who suffered with me until the end of this essay,

#i may or may not be singing up to three poto songs next tuesday on a concert #which may or may not have been my teenage dream #reply #eri-223 #phantom of the opera #toland the sarky #eris morning #eris/toland #destiny 2 #npc talk #what is this even #i have no idea how to tag this #headcanon #ships #ir yût #dûl incaru

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ofgeneticperfection · 3 years

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maladyandmaelstrom wrote:

Chaos shrimped back into his tank as soon as the blade came free. The creature’s angry hiss dampened by the saline solution.

He half floats there, gloating and sharp teeth bared in a ‘grin’ if one could call it that. There’s precious little to occupy his mind, and few outlets for aggression or tension wrought by experiments at Hojo’s hands.

When Hojo turns away again, he crosses his eyes at her and presses his face to the side of the tank, nose smooshed and sharp teeth scraping against the glass in a grotesque display of gums and teeth. A wealth of bubbles left his mouth. Laughter, it was then. Blatant mockery and teasing at the Jenova spliced assistant.

Looking again to make sure Hojo wasn’t looking, he peeked his head above water. This time to spit water at her in a tiny little fountain with a perfect arc to land where he needed it to before redunking himself back into the tank to avoid hojo’s Ire.

The second Hojo’s back is turned she turns back to glare at the creature making faces at her. As she bends down to retireve the knife she feels the splash of water hit her. She squeaks and jumps to her feet but tries to keep quiet this time as she walks closer to the tank, eyes filled with fury as she clutches the blade in her hand.

When she speaks her voice isn’t heard aloud, but within his mind. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’ She glares through the glass. ‘I promise you that I can be ten times scarier than anything in this place.’

She tilts her head at him. ‘So this is what a weapon of the planet has resorted to? Making silly faces and splashing water at people?’ She stares in silence for a long moment. “...pathetic.’

She smirks. ‘He can do whatever he wants with you, and you will never be as perfect as me.’

“Do you plan to stare at it all day?” Hojo asks, approaching once more. “Why are you wet?”

“It spat at me!”

He looks to it with a grumble. “You’re standing too close.” “Is this our next best thing Professor? A spitting infant?! I thought Chaos was a God force but I wouldn’t expect anything less coming out of Valentine.” “Isrieal get out and go get cleaned up.” He raises his voice, pointing towards the door. She glares at him for a momet then with a huff she turns, showering that crap off sounded good right now. “That thing is useless.” She jabs on her way out.

Hojo sighs and turns back to the tank to study it for a moment. “Do be mindful of her, or she’s going to kill you.” He feels he may as well be speaking to himself. He knew well what she was capable of when provoked or threatened. He turns to get back to his work. “And there is nothing I’ll be able to do about that..”

@maladyandmaelstrom

#Chaos #Very funny but I'd wach it mister

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

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Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 47

Title: Truth

Warnings: profanity, slight angst, mentions of suicide attempt, depression, mental health issues

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip

“Esme told me. About your so-called girls trip. That it was nothing but bullshit.”

Sighing heavily, Riley leans back against one of the panes of glass; legs stretched out in front of her, arms folded across her chest. She’d only arrived an hour ago, and the initial joy and excitement of being rushed by a horde of children had been quickly replaced by frazzled nerves and nibbles of anxiety. The moment he’d approached when she’d been alone in the kitchen, she’d known it wasn’t with good intentions; the deep rumble of his voice, the tense shoulders and jaw, the increasing darkness taking over his eyes. And she’d barely gotten words of acknowledgment and acceptance out of her mouth when his fingers had curled around her upper arm and she found herself being manipulated her towards the sunroom. The door closing behind them and her brother in planting his large, strong frame directly in front of it.

She’s been witness to his ire; possessing a hair-trigger temper that’s been unleashed many times in her presence. Unsuspecting motorists in town that have come too close to his kids while in the crosswalk; profanities hurled in their direction, objects thrown at the car, a foot put through a headlight or front grill more than once. Overzealous parents at the soccer park or lacrosse field that believe their eight year old is the next athletic superstar; pacing the sidelines while screaming insults at teenaged referees and freaking out over poor play of their own kid or others on the field. Only to have a tattooed, six foot three, ‘built like a brick shit house’ coach storm across the grass to confront them on their bullshit; quietly yet intently calling them out and often physically escorting them away from the game. Or men that have the audacity to not just check his wife out, but make lewd remarks about her to their buddies or even attempt to follow her while making suggestive and highly sexualized comments. Never imagining that her husband is either just feet in front or behind her, or even across the street waiting to meet up with her.

They always regret their decision when they see him happen upon the scene; casually and calmly greeting her with a warm -albeit brief- embrace and a chaste kiss to the lips before turning his attention to the culprits. While some will put up a good fight and try to defend their egos and their masculinity by arguing with him, most attempt to apologize their way out of the mess they created. Stammering and stumbling over their words; frazzled and intimidated and even visibly shaking from the fear of getting their asses handed to them.

She’s even unintentionally wandered into the house while Tyler and Esme have been engrossed in a blow out themselves. Shortly after his release from the hospital; the horrific and constant pain and the frustration of slower than expected healing getting the better of him and causing to snap. Nothing too serious; raised voices and cupboards being slammed and plates and utensils being angrily tossed into the sink. By BOTH parties.

While seeing the actual explosion of his temper is bad enough, it’s the lead up that tends to be the scarier. The darkening of the eyes and the cold, fixed glare. The way his shoulders tense and his jaw clenches. The visible throbbing of the vein his neck; surgically repaired twelve and a half years after a teenager’s bullet that sliced through it and nearly taken his life. And while his height and his powerful build and the myriad of tattoos and scars are intimidating to most that come in contact with him, Tyler is not a threatening person. At least not intentionally. He’s normally quiet and reserved; taking the time to sit back and watch and listen to the people and the activity around him. Thoroughly analyzing and calculating every move they make and the words that come out of their mouths; assessing whether they both pose a threat and if they can be trusted and allowed into his extremely small, tight circle. Once you get to know him, you realize that while he’s a big man, he has an even bigger heart; compassionate and patient and possessing so much love and adoration for his wife and his children. Enormously protective; wanting nothing more for them to be happy and safe. And willing to do anything and everything to keep them that way.

She has never been on THIS side of the fence; the one being targeted by that intense and unwavering gaze. Not once getting on her brother in law’s bad side; enjoying the teasing and light hearted bickering and the backhanded compliments that their relationship has been built upon. Knowing what subjects to never broach and what lines to never -under any circumstances- cross; acknowledging and respecting his triggers and always doing her best to steer clear from them. A mutual respect exists between them; Tyler grateful for the never ending support that Riley provides her sister with, and Riley ever thankful for the world that he’s created for her sister. A man that loves her so profoundly and unconditionally; making her the centre of his universe and putting everything he has and everything he is into giving her a good life. Making her a mother; something she’d wanted for years and had given up hope on when things between her and Mark had gone so wrong. A hands-on father and a partner in every possible way; devoting every spare minute he has to her and his kids and doing whatever he can to make amazing memories for all of them to carry into adulthood. She’s never seen Esme THAT happy; peaceful and content despite all of the issues that have plagued them and the rocky terrain they’ve covered together and the scarier than hell situations they’ve gone through. Somehow making her even stronger than before; resilient and phenomenally patient, yet ferociously protective when need be.

“I told her she needed to tell you,” Riley says, and nervously drums the fingernails on her right hand against the wine glass clutched tightly in her right. “That it had gone on long enough; her keeping that a secret. That you had the right to know and…”

“I had a right to know WHEN it happened,” Tyler interjects. “What I can’t figure out is why no one realized that then. Why you didn’t tell me. Why you kept it a secret.”

“She asked me not to. Said that it was better if you didn’t know. She was worried what it would do to you; putting that kind of extra worry and stress on you when you were already going through your own shit.”

“And you agreed with her?”

“No. I didn’t. I argued against it, actually. Right away I told her that it was a bad idea; keeping that kind of thing from you.”

“But....”

“But when Esme gets something into her head, it’s hard to sway her from it. You know that better than anyone. You don’t easily change her mind when it’s dead set on something. She was convinced it would be bad for you. That hearing something like that could trigger you and bring on an episode and…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“She was worried, Tyler. About the issues it might cause. And I told her that you were a lot stronger than she was giving you credit for; you were more than capable of taking care of your shit AND hers. But she was adamant to do things her way and I didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was. I didn’t want to make her worse.”

“You should have called me. Right after you got off the phone with her. As soon as she told you how she was feeling, you should have hung and got a hold of me and told me what was going on.”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you. She asked me to help her, and I did. I went over to the house and I stayed with her and the kids. I did everything I could to calm her down and talk her off the edge…”

“That should have been MY job. I should have been the one to do all of that.”

“Well you weren’t exactly around, were you. You were thousands of miles away. On a job. A lot of good you could have done being all the way in Brazil. Instead of home with your family.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn this around on me. What I do for a living and how I provide for my family is none of your business. I’m not the same guy I was when I met your sister. I’m not that deep in it anymore.”

“You run a mercenary business. You may not be the one going out there and putting your ass on the line and killing people, but you’re still sending other guys to do it. Your hands aren’t clean, Tyler. Don’t pretend they are. I don’t care what you do or what you used to do. I don’t care how many lives you’ve taken or HOW you took them. But don’t act like you’re innocent. Not with your track record.”

“This isn’t about me or what I do for a living or what I send other people to do. None of that matters. That’s business. It has no bearing on my personal life. I’m not the same guy when I’m working as I am when I’m at home. When I’m a husband and a father. That’s the only thing you should give a shit about. How I treat your sister. And I love her and I will do anything to protect her.”

“You wouldn’t have to do that if you didn’t do what you do,” Riley counters. “ Do you ever stop and think about that? How you wouldn’t have this fear of something happening to her or someone hurting her if you weren’t who you are?”

“I wouldn’t have met Esme if I wasn’t who I am. You seem to forget that part. That she was in it just as much as I was. That she was working WITH me. She’d been in the game for a while; before she ever met me. So she’s not entirely innocent herself, is she. If she had been, she never would have shown up on my doorstep that day. I never would have laid eyes on her. There’d be no us and there’d be no kids. And your sister and those kids? Best damn things that ever happened to me.”

“I don’t deny that. Same way I don’t deny how much you love her. Or that you’d do anything for her. But she asked me to keep it a secret. She wanted to protect you.”

“And you just went along with it.”

“Against my better judgement, yeah, I did. I didn’t call you because I didn’t need your help. I had it under control. I got her calm and off the ledge and…”

“I should have been the one doing all of that. And if you’d just called me…”

“And what? What would you have done? What could you have possibly said that would have been any better than what came out of my mouth? Look, I understand; I get why you’re pissed. She shouldn’t have lied to you. And I told her that.”

“ You should have never kept that from me. You should have told me what happened. The things that she said. That she was that bad off. That she was going to hurt herself.”

“I don’t think she was going to do it. I think she was anxious and panicking and scared and,...”

“It doesn’t matter if she was going to do it or not!” he argues. “The fact she even said it is bad enough. And you should have told her you weren’t going to lie for her. You should have told her to fuck off when she even brought up this bullshit of wanting to protect me. And you should have called me and told me and I would have come home. Right away.”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you. She asked me to help her and keep it a secret and I did. Because she’s my sister.”

“She’s my wife!” he snarls. “The mother of my children. And I’m sorry if it pisses you off that both those things trump her being your sister. Don’t even compare the two. I’m her husband. I had every goddamn right to know what happened!”

“You did,” Riley admits. “But I’ll hold firm that it wasn’t my place to tell you.”

“My wife tells you that she wants to kill herself and you don’t think it’s your place to tell me that? What if you weren’t around, Riley? What if you didn’t live right next door? Or even in Australia.? What if she hadn’t been able to call you for help?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because I DO live there.”

“It fucking matters to me. What if she’d tried to call you and couldn’t get a hold of you? What then? What if she had decided to go through with it? You know what have happened? One of my kids would have found her. They would have wondered why mummy wasn’t up in the morning to make them breakfast and get them off to school. And they would have gone in there and found her. Dead. Kids, Riley. MY kids.”

“I never thought of that. I never…”

“Do you know what that would have done to them? Finding their mother like that? Do you know how bad that would have fucked them up for the rest of their life? If they’d seen that?”

Struggling to hold back a flood of tears, she takes a swallow of wine in an attempt to wash away the lump of emotion threatening to choke her. “I just never considered all of that.”

“I know what it’s like to lose your mother. At a really young age. It screwed me up. And it continues to screw me up; everything that came after it and all the bullshit I went through because of my father. And the way I lost her? That was bad enough. But it would have been nowhere like how my kids would have lost their mother.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I never…”

“I had a right to know. As soon as she told you how she felt and what was going through her head? You should have called me. I would have been on the next plane home. There is nothing in this world that is more important than her. Nothing.”

“I know that. I know how you feel about her. I see it every time you look at her. The way you smile at her and always find little ways to touch her. The way you watch her when she talks. I’ve always seen that. And you’re right; I should have called you. But my main concern was taking care of her. Making sure SHE was okay. I did what she asked.”

“What stopped you from telling me after you got her settled? Once you realized she was going to be okay. What stopped you from calling me? Some stupid fucking promise you made to her?”

“It wasn’t a stupid fucking promise. She was trying to protect you. She didn’t want to put it on you. Didn’t want to take the risk of it causing you issues. And I have to say, I agreed with her. To an extent.”

“I’m not some fragile fucking piece of china you have to coddle and keep away from everyone. I’m a grown ass man. And I may be messed up and have mountains of shit I deal with every day, but I am more than capable of taking care of your sister. Of my wife.”

“I know. I know you are. And I’m sorry that it came out this way. That she waited this long to tell you. I’m sorry that…”

“Don’t.” Tyler holds up a hand to silence her.. “Don’t do that. Don’t put all the blame on her. I get where she’s coming from; she’s neurotic and she worries about me and she’s got it in her head that she needs to protect me the same way I do her. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell her I don’t need it or that I don’t want her doing it; she’s going to go ahead with it anyway. But you? Going along with that? When you know what she means to me? How can you stand here and defend this? Act like it’s no big deal that you kept this from me? What the fuck, Riley?”

“I said I was sorry. That you had to find out this way. That it took this long. What more do you want from me?”

“How about admitting you fucked up? That you never should have gone along with it. That you should have called me. How about admitting all THAT?”

“Let’s get something straight, Tyler. You’re not my boss. I’m not one of your ‘guys’. You don’t dictate how I do things. You don’t question my decisions. You don’t chastise me for ‘bad behaviour’. I love you. I think you’re a great guy. In the same way I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Me-Me. I think you’re an amazing husband and an even better father. But you’re my brother in law. That’s it. I have no ties to you other than through my sister and my nieces and nephews. My loyalty lies with Esme. First and foremost. And I’m sorry that you think this is some horrible betrayal. I did what my sister asked. That’s it.”

“What you did was wrong. And you fucking know it. We aren’t just talking about some girl, Riley. We’re talking about my wife. The mother of my children. My SEVEN children. The woman that I love more than anything in this world. Who I love more than I ever thought I could love another human being. Who saved my life. And if you can’t understand why you should have told me…”

A knock comes to the door, followed by the rattling of the handle .“Dad?” TJ’s voice from the other side. “Can I come in?”

“Not right now, mate. Auntie Riley and I are talking about some stuff. That little ears don’t need to hear.”

“Mum wanted me to check on you. To make sure you were alright. You’ve been a little...off...for a few days.”

“Tell your mum I’m okay. That there’s nothing for her to worry about.”

“Yeah...right…” TJ scoffs. “This is mum we’re talking about. She worries no matter what. You think you’d be used to it by now. You’ve only been married to her for like a hundred years.”

“Twelve,” he informs his son. “In October. Feels like it’s been a hundred years some days.”

“I won’t tell her you said that. I know how much you hate sleeping on the couch. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Teej. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Go and get washed up for dinner, okay? Make sure your brothers and sisters do too. Food will be here soon.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“You’re gettin’ as bad as your mum. I’m fine. Everything’s good. Go and do as I said. Tell mum I won’t be much longer.”

“Alright,” TJ reluctantly agrees, and Tyler waits until he hears him walk away; heavy, stomping footsteps across the kitchen floor as he shouts the information from one end of the house to the other.

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree when it comes to this,” Riley says, and downs the remains of her wine. “I’m sorry that I didn’t call you. That my main priority was my sister and not calling you.”

“For the last time, your sister is my wife. And my main priority is her. Twelve and half years. That’s how long I’ve been with her. That’s how long I’ve been going through hell and back with her. FOR her. You don’t even know the half of what we’ve been through together. The crap that we’ve dealt with. I’m the one that’s been there; by her side through every fucking shitty thing that’s been thrown us. I’m the one that’s gotten her through a lot of hard times. The one that’s talked her down and kept her calm. Who’s been stepping up and being there for her no matter what I’m going through. So don’t you stand here and tell me that I couldn’t have done a better job than you when it comes to taking care of MY wife .”

“I could have been there for her too, you know. And I would have been had you NOT moved her all the way to the other side of the goddamn world.”

“You know who you sound like right now? When you say that? I’ll give you three guesses but you’re only going to need one.”

Riley scowls. “Don’t you even go there. I am nothing like her. I’m the one that accepted you into the family. I’m the one that saw how good you were with her. FOR her. I’ve always been on your side, Tyler. Even when everyone else was against you and I ended up getting alienated for it. Kicked out of my own family because I always defended you. Because Esme was happy and in love with you and I could tell you felt the same way about her.”

“So you were on my side. So what? You want some kind of award for it? A fucking cookie? You were a kid, Riley. You weren’t even a senior in high school when we moved to Colorado. You had no clue what happened. Why we had to leave Australia, how we were broke as fuck and ended up living in your folks’ basement. It broke your sister’s heart to leave. We didn’t have much, but we were happy there. Happier than either of us had been in a long time. She had someone that loved her and a beautiful baby girl and she didn’t want much more than that.”

“You’re right. I don’t know the details. I don’t know the reason you guys came back. I WAS a kid. And totally absorbed in my own world. But it didn’t mean that I didn’t care about my sister. Or miss her. That I wasn’t glad she was back.”

“She never wanted to go back to Colorado. That was all me. All my idea. And she went along with it and she tried to make the best of it and it nearly fucking destroyed us. You have no clue how bad things got. The issues that being there caused. How close we came to ending everything. All she ever wanted was to be back in Australia. She would cry about it at night; tell me that she wasn’t happy and that she was worried being back in the States was going to destroy us. And it came close. So fucking close.”

“I didn’t know that. I know that you had some problems. That you started drinking again and got back into the job and the pills and…”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know. That we’ve kept back. From everyone connected to her family. I didn’t just move your sister to the other side of the world. I gave her what she wanted. I busted my ass to make it happen; to get her back there. To get her home. Because that’s where she wanted to be. So don’t fucking pretend you know what we went through and don’t ever accuse me of taking her away from you. Because that’s not what happened. That’s just what you’ve been told.”

“It is,” she admits. “That’s exactly what I was told. I mean, I knew most of it wasn’t true. I knew you weren’t controlling or abusive and that you didn’t force her to go back. I knew you weren’t that kind of guy. But I WAS a kid. And still stupid enough to believe most of the bullshit that was being fed to me.”

“When I say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for your sister, I mean it. They aren’t just empty words. I’m not just saying it to hear myself talk or to make her feel better. I say it because it’s one hundred percent true. And had you called me, I would have been on the first flight home. I would have said ‘fuck the job’ and got on the next plane out of there. So I could help my wife.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I SHOULD have called you. But I was so worried about her and I thought what I was doing was right for her.”

“You played a really dangerous game with my wife’s life. Do you realize that? How badly it all could have backfired on you? How one little thing could have set her off? If you’d just called me, I could have talked her down. I could have gotten her off that ledge. A lot easier and a lot quicker than you did.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t…”

“I DO know that. Because I’m the one that she needed. I’ve always been the one she’s needed. And that’s not just going to stop. Not until I’m dead and buried and I can’t do it anymore. What she wanted at that time and what was best for her, were two totally different things. And the fact you didn’t realize that? That you played this fucking game with her life?”

“That’s not what I was trying to do. At all. I thought I was doing what was best for Esme. That’s what we both want, right? To do what’s best for her?”

“That wasn’t what was best for her. That was possibly the WORST thing for her. I know she’s your sister, but I’ve shared a life with her for more than a decade now. I think I know her a hell of a lot better than you do.”

“Of course you do. What the two of you have? That love? That bond? That’s way more than she’s ever had before. With anyone.”

“Don’t ever play a game like that again, Not when it comes to Esme. You have no idea what it would do to me to lose her. What it would do to my kids. HER kids. So don’t you ever again underestimate my ability to take care of my wife. Don’t you EVER get in between me and her again.”

Riley approaches him; slowly and cautiously, palms raised in both surrender and a plea for calm. “That is NOT what I meant to do. I would NEVER do that. I wasn’t trying to cause issues between the two of you. I was trying to help her. That’s it.”

“Well you almost made an even bigger mess, so…” his words trails off and he takes a step back when she attempts to embrace him. “...don’t do that. Don’t touch me. We’re not back at that point. We won’t be for a while. I’m not the kind of guy that just hugs it out, you know?”

“I’m trying here, Tyler. I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. For the lie to get as far as it did. I told her to tell you. I told her…”

“Oh my god…” he chuckles and shakes his head incredulously. “...you just don’t get it. You either didn’t listen to a goddamn word I said or you don’t give a fuck. You never should have went along with it. It’s as simple as that. You should have called me. So I could take care of my wife. But you didn’t. You fucked up. You caused all of this. Don’t put all the blame on her. I won’t let you do that.”

“Can we at least agree that we both want what’s best for her? That even if we DO make mistakes, all that we really want is what’s best for Esme?”

“I think that’s one thing we CAN agree on.”

“And can we go out there and at least pretend to be friends? I don’t want to make things worse on her. You know she’s struggling. That she’s having a really hard time right now. Can we at least do our best to not make things harder for her?”

“Yeah…” he nods. “...I can do that.”

“I really am sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t think things through better. But I really did think I was handling it fine. That I was doing what was best for her. For my sister.”

“I know what’s best for her. For my wife. Even more than she does. So I appreciate your help, but I think you need to step back and realize that you don’t know shit. Not when it comes to this kind of thing. Next time...and I hope to hell there isn’t a next time...you call me. Regardless of what she says.”

“I will,” she promises. “I definitely will.”

“This ends here. What we talked about, the things that were said. She doesn’t need to know. It’s better if she doesn’t. If she asks, we had a heated discussion and disagreed on a lot but we got through it. What really happened doesn’t go further from this room. Understand me?”

Riley nods.

“Don’t you ever question my loyalty or my ability to take care of my wife,” he warns, then turns on his heel and heads for the door.

*****

It’s shortly after midnight when she hears his footfalls on the stairs. The sound familiar and comforting; the slight drag of the right leg, the soft creaks as wood shifts and flexes under his weight. Three hours ago he’d gone upstairs to tend to the kids’ bedtime routines; keeping the older yet easily distracted ones on track, giving the littlest their baths and combing out the girls’ hair and helping them into their pyjamas. Since her confession earlier in the day, he’s been even more hands on and attentive than usual. Practically glued to her side and quick with the affection; spontaneous hugs or arms wrapped tightly around her from behind, gentle fingers combing through her hair and tucking it behind her ears, kisses pressed to her forehead or temple or corners of her mouth. Insisting on either helping her with things around the house or refusing to do anything at all; ordering to sit back and relax and let him and the kids take care of her for a change.

While it had been both welcome and appreciated, she’d also been well aware that he’d been overcompensating. Her admittance to thoughts of self harm and suicide not doubt a kick to the gut; opening his eyes to just to the depths and the extent of her own issues, and feeding into his number one fears. It’s always been his worst nightmare; losing her unexpectedly and to something he could have controlled, or at least prevented. Illness and an accident on the road are horrific in their own way; a disease that eats away at her and eventually kills her, or something that suddenly and unexpectedly occurs and snatches her out of his life. But to lose her to something he could have stepped in and stopped is completely unacceptable in his eyes. An assailant he could have fought off or at least prevented from getting closer to her. An action by her own hand would be something he’d never considered. In twelve and a half years she’s never spoken of harming herself; the one who’d had to stop him from taking his own life.

It had definitely blindsided him; how close he’d come to losing her and never even realizing there’d ever been the potential of it. And not being told sooner had devastated him. She’d seen the pain in his eyes; the hurt and the anger and the feeling of betrayal. He’s always stepped up and taken care of her regardless of his own issues and suffering; pushing everything aside to focus solely on her and what she needs.

Her not relying on him in the moment had done more damage than actually carrying on the lie. HE should have been the one she called. Confident he would have been able to calm her down and talk her off the ledge; giving him the time to get home and concentrate on her problems and her needs. And he would have done it; abandoned the job in favour of returning to Australia and focusing solely on her. But she hadn’t been in her right frame of mind; immediately believed that she had to protect HIM.

She definitely regrets THAT decision. And for keeping it a secret as long as she did.

“Hey,” she greets, looking up from the tablet resting on her thighs as he reaches the bottom landing. Clad in a pair of shorts made from cut up sweats and an old and tattered muscle shirt; the fabric littered with messes composed of dried paint, tiny hand prints infused with glitter, and stains made by various baby ‘accidents’ over the years. Hair messy and sticking up in several different directions; a pout curving his lips and the heels of his palms pressing into his weary eyes.

Twelve and half years later and he still brings about so many emotions and reactions. From lust to adoration to love and even melting because of moments of sheer adorableness; this big -and often intimidating- heavily tattooed man that possesses the strength and know how to kill with his bare hands often so cute and pure that her heart -and her hormones- can barely handle it.

“Hey,” Tyler says in return, pausing to lock the front door and set the alarm before switching off the foyer light and padding into the living room. “You’re awake.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you. You’ve been up there for a hell of a long time. I wasn’t sure if you’d crashed hard or been abducted by aliens. Or if you were just avoiding me. Like the plague.”

“Well I’m happy to report that no aliens showed up and anally probed me.”

“Your worst nightmare,” she grins. “Anyone getting anywhere near your ass.”

“I let you near my ass.”

“Let me rephrase it. Anyone exploring your ass with more than a finger.”

“First off, you’re disturbing. Second, I had three little ones fall asleep on me. Before that, one story turned into two, two turned into three, three turned into a dozen. Can you maybe burn all the copies of Goodnight Moon? Can they mysteriously disappear? Because I have been reading that damn thing almost every night for almost twelve years. What’s left of my sanity can’t take it anymore.”

“You know, instead of resorting to burning books, you could always say no to your children.”

"Yeah, not gonna happen.” He drops down heavily beside her. “I did crash, by the way. In Addie’s bed. I just woke up about ten minutes ago. She kicked me right in the nuts. Good thing you don’t want anymore kids.”

“There’s something so cute about that.”

He frowns. “About her kicking me in the balls?”

“No. About you falling asleep there. This big, burly guy with all his tattoos and scars totally crashed in a frilly canopy bed fit for a princess. I would have LOVED a picture of that.”

“Sorry to disappoint. None exist. You don’t get a chance to publicly humiliate me on social media. Not on this night, anyway.” Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, then stretches out his legs and places his bare feet on the coffee table. “And why would I have been avoiding you? What would be the reason for that?”

“Well I did fuck up. HUGE. And I did hurt your feelings. And offend you. All at once.”

“We talked about it. We said shit we needed to say. It’s done. Over with. Let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and slides closer to him on the couch; tucking her feet under her body as she snuggles into his side. “Let’s.”

Wrapping an arm around her petite frame, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “What are you doing?”

“Looking up ideas for the backyard.” She holds the tablet up for him to see; an image of a tiny cottage made of distressed white wood and boasting a shingled roof and a sunlight and pink shutters on the windows. “We finally have the opportunity to totally concentrate on it. All the renos out of the way, all the garages and the granny flat are built, the pool house has been redone. Now we can work on other things. What do you think? It’s a she shed. I would LOVE a she shed.”

“That’s what they’re actually called? I’ve been calling them bitch barns.”

“You would,” she frowns, and he chuckles when she digs an elbow into his ribs. “Think you could build it?”

“Shouldn’t be hard. I’ve built a lot more complicated. And if you really DO want one, I’ll get on it. Soon as we get home.”

“I really do. Want one.”

“Then a bitch barn you shall have.”

She scowls.

“She shed,” he quickly corrects. “A SHE SHED you shall have.”

“And I was thinking a fire bowl. For the corner of the first floor deck. Closest to the pool. One of those propane ones. With the coloured glass stones. We could build a seating area around it, maybe get another swing to hang near it.”

“Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. Just buy what you need or give me a list and I’ll take care of it. You know I really don’t care about this kind of stuff. I mean, it’s not that I don’t. It’s just that I trust you and you always pick out nice shit and it always looks great when it’s done.”

“You really ARE the best husband on earth,” Esme declares, and presses a kiss to the side of his neck; lips covering the scar long ago left behind by Farhad’s bullet and the surgery to repair the vein.

Smiling, he gives her hip a gentle squeeze and then runs her palm over her ribs and up onto her arm. Tightly clasping her shoulder as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I try. All I wanna do is make my girl happy. And if what makes her happy is making the house look nice and wanting it to be beautiful and comfortable for all of us, then I’ll do whatever she needs me to do to make that all happen.”

“You DO trust me,” she chides, and leans forward to set the tablet on the coffee table before once more snuggling into him; arms circling his waist and her head resting on his chest. “How do you know I’m not going to buy stuff you’ll hate? That I’m not going to go crazy with the pastels? Or pink? Addie would LOVE that. We do share a favourite color, after all.”

“First of all, I know how much you love colour. The brighter the better. Second, you’d never do that; just buy stuff that you’ll like. You’ve NEVER done it. Not once in the past twelve and a half years. If you know I’ll hate, you won’t do it. That’s just not how you work.”

“Damn it,” she grumbles, and playfully pinches the sensitive area below his right ribcage. “That’s what I get for being so predictable.”

“It’s not that you’re predictable. It’s just that I know you. Very well. Better than you know yourself sometimes. Isn’t that kind of our ‘thing?’. Knowing one another better than we know ourselves?”

“Been our thing since almost day one. It’s kind of weird, don’t you think? As screwed up and as damaged as we were, we just...I don’t know...took to each other.”

“Is that before or after I tried to choke you out?” he chides.

“It was almost like we’d known each other for years. We knew what the other was thinking, we could express things to one another without even using words. We trusted each other. And it’s not like trust came easily to either of us. But for some reason, we knew we could. We had faith in one another.”

“My instincts told me you were good people. That I COULD trust you. And what do you always say? About how good my instincts are?”

“You have incredible instincts. They’ve never lied to you. At least not as long as I’ve known you. I have to say…” she grins up at him “...I’m quite happy that they thought I was good people.”

“It’s pretty safe to say I’m happy about that too.” Giving her shoulder another squeeze, Tyler slides his arm further up and wraps it around her neck, pulling her flush against him as he kisses her. Nothing urgent nor intense; fingertips and the pad of his thumb repeatedly grazing along her jaw as his lips move slowly and sinuously against hers. Her eyes still closed when he pulls away; the bridge of her nose wrinkling when he presses a kiss to the tip of it. “I feel like ice cream,” he announces. “Want some ice cream?”

“Hmmm…” She tilts her head to the side, crinkles on the bridge of nose deepening as she considers it. “...cheese toast.”

“And ice cream?”

“Why not? You only live once. Do you think we could have sex afterwards? My cramps went away and my period isn’t due for two weeks, so…”

“We can have sex first and then cheese toast and ice cream?”

She frowns. “Naww. Cheese toast first.”

“Are you telling me you’re picking cheese toast over having sex with your husband? Do you realize how hurtful that is? How offended I am?”

“I’m sorry! You know there’s anything in this world that’s better than sex with you. Nothing. But I’m hungry. And...well...this is cheese toast we’re talking about. You know how much I love cheese toast.”

“You claim to love ME, but I dunno…”

Her fingers fidget with loose strands of thread on the neckline of his tank. “Don’t be like that. You damn well know that I love you. Don’t want me at full strength? You don’t want me running on an empty tank do you? Because then I’ll get tired easily and I won’t be at my best and…”

“Won’t bother me. Your best is only at a B plus.”

“B plus! You asshole!” She aggressively ruffles his hair, then laughs when he curls an arm around her waist and dumps her onto her back. “You’re mean,” she dramatically pouts, as he places a foot on the floor and a knee on the couch beside her; palms above her head and pressed flat against the cushion as he looms over her.

“The meanest. But you know what?” He places a small peck on each corner of her mouth, then her lips. “I will still make you your goddamn cheese toast.”

“I knew you loved me,” she says, and then curls two fingers around the chain that dangles around his neck and pulls him into a kiss. Long and deep and intense; legs wrapping around his waist and her ankles locking together at the small of his back.

He grins down at her. “So is this a yes to having sex BEFORE cheese toast and ice cream?”

“It’s a promise to have sex with you AFTER cheese toast and ice cream.”

“Don't do me any favours,” he grumbles playfully, kissing her a final time before reaching around to pry her ankles apart. “You know….” he grimaces at the stiffness in the small of his back as he stands. “...you’re damn lucky you’re so cute. That I love you as much as I do.”

“Yes. Yes I am,” she agrees, and slides off the couch and follows him through the living and dining rooms and into the kitchen. Lending a hand by gathering bowls and spoons from the drainboard next to the sink; carrying them to the island and then perching on the edge of one of the barstools. “They’re all asleep? All the beasts?”

“Every last one. Even Millie and Alannah crashed earlier than usual. That’s a nice change; none of their bloody laughing and raiding the fridge and waking me up at three am.”

“We’re going to have to think about where she is going to go when we get back home. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to keep those two in the same room. I would like to have some semblance of sleep. All the square footage we added and all the rooms we made, and suddenly there is no room at the inn.”

“Could always clean out the garage and make another bedroom in there. It’s only going to be temporary, yeah? She’s not staying with us forever. I hope. I love the kid, but…”

“What about the granny flat? We added one above the new gym but it hasn’t been used yet. Could put her in there.”

“She’s eleven. We are NOT giving an eleven year old her own apartment.”

“What about the den? Downstairs. It WAS a guest room at one point in time. That’s where you stayed. After Dhaka Part Two.”

“I kind of already told Tanner he could use that for his science experiments.” He gives her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“We could always put Brookie in with Addie. I’d say the other way around, but Addie will not give up her princess room. For ANYONE. I don’t even want to attempt trying to convince her to. Brookie won’t give a shit. She’s not attached to things like Addie is. She’d sleep out on the hammock every night if we let her.”

“She’d also do anything for Addie. She told me that Peanut’s her best friend. That that’s why she even agreed to tag along to the American Girl thing. Because Addie is her bestie and she asked Brookie to go with her.”

“One upside to having them close together. Friends for life. Unless one of them turns into a total dick head and completely ruins things.”

“I highly doubt either of our girls are going to turn into ‘he who shall not be named’. Things were always toxic when you were growing up. Our kids aren’t in that same kind of environment. We’re making damn sure of it. We aren’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but…”

“But we aren’t totally fucking up our children. We’re actually giving them a good home. A healthy one. Which is kind of surprising considering most behaviour is learned and neither of us grew up with the healthiest of parent child relationships.”

“We just went the opposite way. Instead of turning out like what we knew, we made sure we didn’t.”

“A lot of people aren’t that lucky, you know. A lot fall into the same patterns. Repeat the same mistakes.”

“Well we aren’t a lot of people, are we. I think we’ve shown that a time or two.”

“Do you remember what Gaspar said? About how two broken people can’t come together and make a whole?”

Tyler frowns. “I try NOT to remember anything he said.”

“He said that they’d only make things worse. Make EACH OTHER worse. I like to think he was wrong.”

“He was wrong about a lot of things. Not just that. Take it from the source, babe. Don’t take anything he said to heart.”

“He seemed a little too invested in what was going on between us. What was it to him? What did it matter whether we were hooking up or not?”

“He was just worried I’d get distracted. That I’d let my feelings take over and forget everything else.”

“More like he was worried your dick would run the show. Not your head. And that would be dangerous.”

“Something like that.”

Popping two pieces of bread into the toaster, he pushes down the level and then turns his back towards it; facing his wife as he leans back against the counter. He’ll never tell her the whole truth; Gaspar attempting to convince him that she was simply using him as a way out of Dhaka. That ‘putting out’, showering a profoundly damaged and lonely man with affection and want, and promising an attempt at a future would guarantee her his full attention ; that he’d stop at nothing to make sure she survived the ordeal. Even before Gaspar had shown all his cards and brought up the ten million dollar deal, Tyler hadn’t believed a word of what he was saying. He hadn’t been in that cramped and squalid hotel room. He didn’t hear the deep and intense conversations that lasted well into the wee hours of the morning; the confessions made and the fears talked about and the tears shed. It hadn’t been just sex. A connection had been made and a foundation laid down. Wrong place, wrong time. Perhaps a little too quick by society’s standards. But it had been nothing like Tyler had ever experienced. And he’d felt no need to either explain that to Gaspar, or defend it.

“Did he say anything to you? About me?”

“Other than he thought I was thinking with the wrong head? No. Not a damn thing.”

“Just the offer.”

Tyler nods.

“He didn’t say anything about me? Even leading up to that? Seems weird. That he’d just bring the offer up out of nowhere.”

“What does it matter? It’s almost thirteen years ago. Why are we even talking about it? About HIM? None of that should matter anymore.

“Just some things made me think about it. Shit that he said to me. When he cornered me in the upstairs. I don’t know what brought it up. Sometimes it happens; it hits me out of nowhere. But you’re right…” She sighs heavily and manages a smile. “...it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I know it makes you a little testy. Even now. What he did.”

“He’s dead. That’s what he deserved. Makes no sense to go back and dig him up.”

“It doesn’t,” she agrees, and then thankfully changes the subject. “You know, I really need to get my shit together. We go back home in five days and I have done nothing to prepare for it. I’m usually so far ahead of the game by now. Do you realize how much has to be packed away? Things I need to box up and have shipped because we won’t be able to take everything on the plane?”

“Do you realize you’re not the only adult in the house and there’s someone fully prepared to help out? WE have a lot to do. Not just you. We’ll start today.”

“You have your little shopping trip with Desi today,” she reminds him. “No way are you skipping out on that. He’s been going on and on about it for DAYS. He will legit ugly cry if you bail on him.”

“Then we start when I get back. Doubt I’ll be gone that long. You’ve gone shopping with me. In and out in half an hour.”

“You are in for a rude awakening. Going shopping with Desi is a whole other experience in itself. That man LOVES his fashion and his bling and he doesn’t go home until he’s exhausted every square inch of his favourite stores. Takes him half an hour just to decide what side of the store to start on first.”

��I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“He wants to play dress up with you. Use you as his little doll. He sees the potential. He’s going to get you into some three thousand dollar suits and some skinny jeans and…”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I wear skinny jeans. What is wrong with the way I dress?”

“Nothing. I don’t care what you wear. You look good in whatever you put on. That being said, I prefer when you’re taking your clothes OFF…”

“I don’t want to be his little plaything. His science experiment. Why can’t I just be who I am? Why do I have to change? As long as you’re not complaining…”

“Like I said, I don’t care what you wear. You always look good. But Desi wants to do this with you. He wants to dress you up and make you look good. Fashionable. He wants to see you in some Huge Boss and some Gucci and some Tom Ford.”

“I’m more comfortable in shit from Target.”

“Just humour him. He’s got amazing fashion sense. It won’t hurt to have a few of Desi’s staples and favourites in your closet. And personally? I’d kill to see you in a pair of skinny jeans. They’d make your ass look incredible. Or even more incredible than it already is. Not to mention you’ve got those crazy, long ass legs.”

“Why don’t you just cut to the chase and say you want me to buy a pair? Because if you want me to…”

“Nope. Has to be your decision. I’m not telling you what to do. But I will say the thought of you in skinny jeans? Totally makes me hot for you. Hotter than you usually make me, And that’s pretty damn hot.”

He stares at her pointedly, then returns to spreading thick layers of Cheese Whiz on two pieces of toast.

“Just saying. They would. Did I not go out and buy TWO sexy outfits for you? To wear on New Year's Eve? Not just one, babe. TWO. And believe me, they are way out of my comfort zone. But it’s what you wanted so I went and found ones I thought you’d find incredibly hot. And just might make you self combust in record time.”

“I’m not supposed to do that until AFTER I get you out of the outfits.”

“You said sexy, so I got sexy. And think about it. Think about how hot you make me on a regular basis. Extremely hot, right? So if I say you in skinny jeans would make me even MORE hot…”

“So if I put them on whenever I want sex, I’ll immediately get it?”

Esme nods. “More than likely.”

“And if I want to add to my mile high club points, I just need to wear them on the plane?”

“If your children aren’t there, yup.”

“Fine.” He sets the plate of toast down in front of her. “I’ll get the damn skinny jeans. But I don’t ever want to hear you say I never do anything nice for you.”

“I never say that to begin with, so…” she tilts her face up towards him, hand on his hip as he leans down to peck her lips.

She never tires of it. The random embraces; wrapping his arms around her from behind while she stands at the stove or the washing machine or while standing in front of the bathroom sink brushing her teeth. Curling an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly into his side during their walks on the beach or always taking her hand while strolling through town. The little unexpected kisses; placed up on her temples or cheeks or the corners of her mouth or dropped onto the top of her head. Even at the dinner table or while sitting on the couch he always finds a way to maintain physical contact; sides of thighs touching or a foot resting against hers, shoulders or elbows lightly pressed together. It had taken years for him to open up to both accepting and giving affection; a childhood wracked with horrendous abuse and no love shown, a first marriage whose novelty had worn off quick and gone cold and stale, years building up walls around his heart to avoid connecting with anyone and therefore preventing the brutal sting of loss.

Out of nowhere it had all come together, and the change in him was like night and day. He didn’t initially stiffen up when embraced and became quick with the touches and the hugs and the kisses. Suddenly comfortable with both verbal and physical expressions of adoration and love. Now she cherishes every single moment of it. Knowing how far he’s come and how hard he’s had to work; so willing to sacrifice personal comfort to be the kind of man he felt she wanted, needed, AND deserved.

“You’re kinda cute, you know that,” she comments, biting into a slice of toast as she watches him; the way the muscles in his arms bulge and twist with even the simple task of scooping ice cream. It never gets old. Seeing the way his body moves and how it feels under her fingertips; hard muscle and smooth skin that boosts a handful of scars of various shapes and sizes.

He casts a grin over his shoulder. “Just kinda?”

“Very cute,” she declares. “And hot. And sexy. And oh so fuckable.”

“All those things rolled into one, huh?”

“You’re quite the catch,” she says, leaning back against him when he stands behind her stool; tilting her head back and smiling up at him as he reaches past her body to set the bowls on the counter. “I lucked out. I knew you had potential. The day I met you in your little shack. I knew a good thing when I saw it.”

“I was half in the bag and feeling pretty damn good from Oxy. Hardly a good thing.”

“Please, you looked so freaking hot. With that shirt tight around your arms and your kick ass haircut and your blue eyes and your nice butt. You know what was REALLY sexy? When your hair would fall across your forehead. That did funny things to my insides.”

“Just back then or…?”

“Still does it to me even now.” She reaches up to push the wayward tresses off her forehead, smiling when he presses a line of kisses down the bridge of her nose. “And I don’t care what you say. You ARE cute. We’re going to forever agree to disagree on this one, But I did, you know. See the potential in you.”

“Let me guess. It was all in my eyes?”

“And your smile. The way you smiled at me was...I don’t know...different. Than the way anyone else ever smiled at me.”

He sidles up beside her, snagging one of the spoons and digging into his ice cream. “Something tells me you’ve had a lot of guys smile at you.”

“Not a lot. A few. But none of them have ever smiled at me the way you do.”

“That’s because they don’t love you. I do.”

“You didn’t love me when you first smiled at me. It was still a different kind of smile.”

“That was a ‘damn she’s cute, I wouldn’t mind banging her’ smile.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“What? You WERE cute. In those little shorts and that tank top and your piercings and your ink. I was impressed. And for the record, I DID want to bang you. Right away. You were fresh meat.”

“Oh my god,” she rolls her eyes and tears a piece of toast off with her teeth.

“You were. I’d never seen you before. You just showed up on my doorstep. Like this little present being delivered just for me. And I hadn’t sex in four months, so….”

“Poor baby. My heart bleeds for you.”

“You were a new face, had a wicked little body on you, a tongue ring. Is it any wonder why I wanted to rail you?”

“That’s all I was to you. Fresh meat. A new piece of ass.”

“At first. But then I got to know you and everything changed. Very quickly, I might add.”

“It was rather quick,” Esme admits. “Do you ever regret it? How quickly it DID happen?”

“What guy in their right mind is going to regret banging you?”

“I don’t mean the sex. I mean everything else. The whole quiet stuff afterwards. The cuddling and…”

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight. You cuddled up to me.”

“Tyler, give it a rest. It’s been twelve and a half years. I’ve known for a long time that you actually enjoy cuddling. And you’re a master at it. You enjoyed it that first night. You hung back a bit, but you gave in pretty quick.”

“I don’t know…” he shrugs, and a slight blush creeps into his cheeks and the tips of ears. “...I was comfortable with you. It felt...nice.”

“Are you blushing? You are! Baby…” she stands on the bottom rung of the stool and presses a kiss to his temple. “...you’re so freaking adorable.”

He frowns, gently using his elbow to push her away. “Stop it.”

“Blushing. With your wife. Who you’ve known for more than a decade. Who is the last person you should get embarrassed in front of.”

“Esme…”

“Why would you be embarrassed? Tae…” she nuzzles his cheek with the tip of her nose, then sits back down on the stool. “...God I love you.”

“I don’t like talking about this stuff. The...I don’t know...emotional stuff. I can talk about sex all day, every day. But THAT? The other stuff that went down between us?”

“That other stuff was amazing and beautiful. And totally not what I expected from you. That’s what made it so great. This big, muscly, tattooed and scarred up mercenary being so cuddly and spilling his guts and crying to me and…”

“Oh fuck…” he groans. “....can we not do this? Talk about this stuff? Please?”

“I’m just saying that the after stuff? That was pretty amazing too. And you don’t need to be embarrassed about it. I mean, you ended up marrying the person you did all that stuff with. You’ve had kids with her. Seven of them. You don’t have to be embarrassed about that stuff. About anything, actually.”

“It’s just not who I am. Even now. I don’t talk about that stuff. I’m not comfortable with it.”

“Even with me?”

“It’s nothing to do with you. I just get..I don’t know...weirded out. I liked it, alright. Being like that with you. It had been a long time since I’d done anything even remotely like that. And it felt good. It felt right. YOU felt right.”

“Strange, huh? Totally wrong place, totally wrong time. But it felt so good.”

“It did,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.. “And I don’t regret a damn thing about it. About you. About us.”

Smiling, she curls an arm around his waist and leans into him; hand repeatedly stroking his lower back as she takes turns delving into her ice cream and enjoying the cheese toast. The silence between them has never been awkward; neither ever feeling the need to fill the minutes with mindless chit chat. It’s companionable and it’s relaxing; the close proximity of their bodies and their familiar smells is its own form of intimacy. It’s the comfortableness that exists between two people that have seen each other at every stage of their lives. The lowest of the lowest and the highest of the highs . Grieving AND celebrating. Bloodied, battered and broken and in near perfect health. Who’ve experienced the miracle of birth and the devastation of loss. Who had seen each other at their very worst right at the start, yet still chose one another. And STILL keep choosing each other. Every day. Regardless of the pain and obstacles thrown in their direction.

*****

“It’s weird that Riley and Sheana left so soon after dinner,” Esme breaks the silence, pushing her empty plate away; using the spoon to swirl now melting ice cream around in the bowl. “I thought they’d stay longer. They usually do.”

“Probably just tired. It’s a long flight. Sometimes we handle it well, other times we feel like complete and utter shit for a couple days.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad they decided to stay at a hotel this time? I love my sister. And Shaena. Dearly. But I can not handle any more extra people in this house. Not when we’ve got so much to do and Ovi’s wedding is right around the corner. House guests are the last thing I need to be dealing with.”

“I was thinking I’m more glad they chose the hotel because I didn’t want to hear them getting busy. Weird, considering the kind of porn I used to watch. When I was single and having to tend to my own business all the time.”

“Oh please. You probably had all kinds of Sheilas on speed dial. And USED to watch? You STILL watch that stuff.”

“I’ll have you know, that I haven’t watched any that doesn’t involve me and you….or just you...in years. Why do I need to? I’m married to a goddess. Why watch fake shit when I watch the real stuff? It’s got the most beautiful girl in the world in it. The woman I love. What’s hotter than that?”

‘“You have issues, you know that?”

“If my issue is that I love and lust you, then yeah. I guess I do. I DO have issues. And trust me, babe. Those videos? Fucking amazing. Gets the job done. In record time.”

“Oh God,” Esme groans. “I do NOT need to hear this.”

He leans into her, playfully nudging her with his elbow. “Do you want to watch them with me? Tonight? Get you in the mood?”

“You think that’s what it takes for me to get in the mood?”

“No. I know it doesn’t take much for me to get you there. It would just be really hot. Watching them with you. Do something nice for me.”

“I do plenty of nice things for you. Who went from once a year butt stuff to near daily?”

“But you like that though. That’s why you give it up more. Just watch it with me. Just one of them. And then we’ll make another one. On New Year's Eve.”

Sighing heavily, she shakes her head. “Remind me again why I married you?”

“Because I dick you down like no one else ever has. And because of my eyes. And my butt. Probably my voice too.”

“The whole trifecta. Eyes, butt, voice.”

“And because you love me,” he adds, and lightly and teasingly ruffles her hair. “That’s the main reason.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I DO love you. Despite what’s in my best interests. And you’re right; Shaena and Riley DO get a little...wild.”

“And loud. Very loud.”

“You realize we do too, right? That we can be insanely loud.”

“No. YOU can be insanely loud. You’re the loud one.”

“Yeah, you’re the groaner and the growler and the swearer, I forgot.” She spoons the remains of the ice cream into her mouth. “I still think they left way too early. Totally uncharacteristic of them. Did everything go okay? When you talked to her?”

“Best as can be expected, I guess.”

“You totally lost your shit on her, didn’t you.”

“Did you hear me yelling?” He gathers up the empty bowls and carries them to the sink. “Throwing shit around?”

“You long ago mastered the art of losing your shit WITHOUT doing any of that.” She swivels her seat around; watching as he rinses the dishes and cutlery and then loads them into the dishwasher. “Tyler James…”

Smirking, he dries his palms on the thighs of his shorts. “Esme Michelle…”

“You did, didn’t you? Lost it.”

“I may have been a little harsh. No more than she was.”

“Riley harsh? Never.”

Leaning back against the dishwasher, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I said what I needed to say.”

“Which was?”

“I told her that you ‘fessed up. About the whole fake girls weekend thing. And I said I was pissed. That she didn’t call me. Let me know what was going on. That I had a right to know that my wife was in a crisis.”

“I wasn’t in a crisis. I was…”

“I had a right to know,” he forcibly repeats. “My wife calls her sister and says she wants to kill herself? That is definitely something I should have been told.”

“She only kept it quiet because I asked her to. I made her promise not to tell you. I was worried; I didn’t want you going off the deep end hearing something like that. I didn’t want you spiralling because I was.”

“You think I’m THAT weak? That I couldn’t handle hearing that?”

“I don’t think you’re weak at all. I’ve never thought that. You’re the strongest person I know. In every possible way. But I didn’t want to put something else on you. You were away on job. You needed to stay focused on it. It was your priority.”

“YOU’RE my priority,” he retorts. “ There’s not a job in this world that could EVER be more important. In fact, other than my kids? NOTHING is more important than you. You never should have asked Riley to lie for you. You shouldn’t have put that on her. That wasn’t fair to her.”

“I know,” Esme admits. “But I wasn’t exactly in my right mind, was I. And at that time, keeping it from you seemed like the best thing. For everyone. I didn’t want to add more to your plate. The business was just starting to really take off and things were crazy busy and you had a lot going on. I didn’t want to give you more to deal with. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You’re my wife. You could never be a burden. If you’d called me, I would have gotten on the next plane home. I would have talked you down and got you off that ledge and I would have come back to Australia. You know I would have.”

“I do know you would have. Which is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want all that extra on you. You were busy and…”

“I am never too busy when it comes to my family,” he interjects. “You are the most important thing in my life. Nothing else comes close. And I know you think you need to protect me, but I am more than capable of handling things like this. When I have I not stepped up? When I have not shoved my own shit aside to take care of you? When have I not been there when you needed me?”

“You’ve always stepped up. You’ve always put everything aside for me. I’m not arguing that. I’m not saying you wouldn’t have come home or that you wouldn’t have dropped everything to get back to me. I KNOW you would have. But I wasn’t in my right mind. It was telling me I needed to keep it from you. For all the reasons I’ve told you over and over again. It wasn’t to hurt you, Tyler. I would never, EVER, hurt you.”

“Well it did hurt,” he confesses. “A lot. The fact you turned to her instead of me.”

“She was right next door. You were thousands of miles away,” Esme attempts to reason. “I needed help right there and then.”

“And I would have helped you. If you’d called. But you didn’t. You didn’t even give me the chance.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I was scared and I was panicking and I just acted in the moment. That’s it. I wasn’t thinking rationally. I wasn’t thinking ‘hey, let’s find a way to hurt Tyler’s feelings’. Because I would never do that and you know it.”

“She should have called me. You might not have been in your right mind, but she was. And she should have gotten a hold of me. That’s what I told her.”

“And what did she say?”

“That she did what her sister asked. That that’s where her loyalty lies. With you. And I told her that you being my wife and the mother of my kids totally trumps the relationship she has with you. What if you’d never gotten a hold of her? What if that pushed you right over the edge and you had done something?”

“I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I was freaking out and my brain was all messed up. I wasn’t thinking rationally.”

“One of our kids would have found you. And I can’t stop thinking about that. The fact you wouldn’t have been around in the morning and one of them would have went looking for you and they would have found you. Do you know what that would have done to them? Seeing that? That’s your kids. MY kids.”

“What do you want me to say, Tyler? I’ve already said I was sorry. Do you want to say it a million times more? Because I will. Yeah, I should have called. And when I WAS in the right frame of mind again, I realized how badly I fucked up. Because in the end, it was you that I wanted. It was you I wanted taking care of me. Not Riley. Not some stupid psychiatric hospital. YOU.”

“I can’t pretend that it didn’t bother me. That it didn’t hurt. The fact you didn’t trust me with it. With you.”

“You have that right. To be hurt. And I’m sorry. Because that is NOT what I meant to do. I would never pick anyone over you. EVER. And I’m sorry I did. If I could go back, I’d do everything differently. But I can’t. And I know you’re hurt and you’re pissed and you probably hate me right now…”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I love you. Which is I wanted to be the one to take care of you. Because I DO love you. We’re supposed to be a team, Esme. We’re supposed to be in this together. And sometimes….I don’t know...sometimes I don’t think you’re as invested in that part of things as I am.”

“That’s not fair. I have given everything to you. Right from the beginning. I was willing to give up my life for you. On that bridge. I gave up my family. Any friends I had. I moved to a country on the other side of the world. I started a whole new existence. For you.”

“I didn’t hold a gun to your head,” he reminds her. “ You made the decisions you did on your own.”

“Because I was in love with you. Because I wanted to be with you. But I still gave everything up. And I feel like I keep giving and giving and giving. And I’m scared one day there’s going to be nothing left to give. Then what? I won’t be of any use to you. Or our kids. “

“So somehow it’s my fault? That you keep giving and giving? Like you’re the only one that’s being doing that? I gave up things too. Most of them I needed to. The booze, the Oxy, the living in some crappy little shack in the outback. Those needed to go. But I also gave up everything I knew for you. I walked away from the job. TWICE. And I know I got sucked back in…”

“It wasn’t your fault. You had no control over that.”

“...but I started that business for you. Because you didn’t want me going out there anymore. You didn’t want me getting my hands dirty. Putting myself in the fire.”

“Do you blame me? Tyler, you have a wife. You have SEVEN kids! Why would you risk yourself when you have so much to lose? Especially when you’re not a hundred percent. You know damn well you’re not where you were thirteen years ago. You’ve admitted that yourself. Why would you go out there under those circumstances? Leave your family? People who love you? Why would you…?”

“Because I’m a selfish bastard, Esme. Just like everyone says I am. Have you ever thought maybe they’re right? That I really AM that person?”

“You’re not. You’re selfless, if anything. You’re not who they say you are. You never have been. Where is this coming from? I thought we were talking about Riley? How did it turn into being about us? Into a fight? How…?”

“I’m not trying to fight with you. I’m not.”

She valiantly holds back a flood of tears. “It sure as hell feels like you are.”

He finally approaches her. Crossing the room in two long strides and gathering her in his embrace; one hand resting on the small of her back and the other buried in her hair. “I’m sorry.” Gentle pressure draws her head into his chest; fingertips softly massaging her scalp. “I didn’t mean to take shit out on you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. But I was angry. I still am. More at her than you. You weren’t thinking right. She was. She knew better.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she turns her teary face up towards him. “She was just doing what I asked. And at the time it seemed like the right thing. I’d give anything to go back and do things differently.”

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

“I know I hurt you. I never meant to. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“So am I. For making you cry. I fucking HATE when you cry.”

“I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Crying. I think it’s my hormones. Oh God..." she chews anxiously on her bottom lip. "...maybe I’m starting menopause.”

“Or maybe you’re just married to a humongous asshole.”

“No, that’s not it. You’re not THAT big of an asshole.”

He stares down at her pointedly.

“You are a bit of one. You know you are. So don’t look at me like that.”

“Yet here you are,” he uses the front of his muscle to clear the tears off her cheeks and wipe her runny nose. “Twelve and a half years later. Putting up with it.”

“The sex is good. Really good. Really, really, REALLY good.”

“I knew it. Just using me for my body. And my dick.”

“That’s it,” she sniffles. “That’s all it’s ever been about. Your body and your penis.”

“You know, I’m just enough in love with you to accept that. And put up with it.”

“I love you. More than you could ever know. I love you more and more every day. Please tell me you never doubt that.”

“I don’t,” he assures her, then gently cradles her face in his palms and presses a tender kiss to her lips. “And I never will.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth extraction #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake x OFC #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Esme and Tyler series

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Note

Ši kalba turėjo būti sudėtinga, kad pagerbtume savo išmanųjį Gigi 💙 ir sveiki dar kartą! Ar grįžai į darbą?

So, here it is 12:30 a.m, my head hurts for some reason but lets do this!! Oh, and I'm also really hungry bc I ate something at breakfast and nothing else

.... Wait, I just conected the dots... I'm an idiot😂 anyways, lets go!!

Simon and Gigi being protective HELL YEAH GO OFF!! Also, love Abigail already ndndkdn

SIZZY SIZZY SIZZY SI-

They are all🥺🥺🥺

Why cant they let Jonathan Christopher die with him???

"Her feet were never meant to be on the ground. She was always meant to soar." YES AND WE LOVE HER SO MUCH <333

Lexi and Gigi feelings again💙💙

Ah shit, no word form Coraline...

Roman and Gigi are the definition of a key smash nfjdjdjdndkms

Oh, makes sense they are moving to Idris tho

Jace, you smartass...

Simon is an amazing parent!!!

Izzy and Jace's dinamic got me emo🥺🥺

Ava is so badass!!

Can I please get a relationship like Gigi and Lexi??

"Just because we fit under the same umbrella, it doesn’t mean we both feel the same way about the rain" I LOVE THIS QUOTE SO MUCH. WOW

YESS JACKSON IS SO WISE HDJSBDJ

“How about an asexual high five?” Alright. But don’t tell your parabatai. (I cant with them😂)

“Fuck other people,” Lexi said. “I can’t,” Georgia said. “That’s my whole thing.” (this jokes are prime content. 100% here for it!!)

Lexi. Just. Talk. To. Her

“Now, that’s unfair,” Georgia argued. “You should talk to Liv.” “And they should remake all the Avengers movies, but make it gayer,” (I have no arguments for that logic. Understandable. Have a nice day :))

Telling stuff is the worst, I can confirm

“Fighting a prince of hell doesn’t require me to articulate my emotions.” Exactly. Telling a girl your feelings is SCARIER.

Roman!!!!

“I just wish we can fight bad guys together.” Bro, thats the most beautiful thing I've heard🥺🥺

“They were mundanes,” Roman said softly. “They made fun of me for being Asian.” Ugh, some people are sooo stupid and ignorant I cant

Roman googling how far away they were is the softest thing EVER and now my expectations are too high smh

“And I did find my way to you. And I always will,” Roman told her and then paused. “Okay, that sounded less creepy in my head.” (Ok, I'm in love)

Rafael already changing things so they are able to go to university!! YAS MY BOY!!

Him going to see her because its better to do it face-to-face is so soft please dont touch me🥺

OMG CAN HE STOP?? 💙💙💙 (jk, please dont)

Oh, he knows...

Sizzy: amazing parents 100/10

The whole conversation was just 🥺🥺 they just make sense together and they make each other happy and just wow. I'm in love with both of them and “I like you and I like us.” bro. Bro that was so wholesome💙💙

Yess they can just live their life and be themselves!!

Istg if they dont stop being cute I'm gonna cry

Lexi is a mood 😎😎

I thank all gods Sister Emelia exists!! She is gorgeous!!!

Lightwood-Lovelace family feels jfbdkdbfjdjdnf

"Home, she thought. What a beautiful word." The parallel with Selena omg 🥺

Rafael is here yall!!! (still getting used to the Consul thing tho)

Rafael wearing one of Alec's sweater for comfort is more beautiful than all stars (yeah, I'm a dramatic lil shit)

Rafe and Gigi's interactions>>>>>>

He is right and wise and sexy ngl...

“What I want for my Clave is to spend a little more time creating things than destroy them." And he is a better leader for this. Love him💙

THIS FAMILY ISTG I WOULD DIE FOR THEM

Yeah, they would be idiots if they didn’t want her in their Institutes!!

Rafael has given you special permission,” mama winked. “For you know, saving everyone’s asses.” SHE DESERVES THE MOON IF SHE WANTS!!

"But the thing was, people never got enough of 'good enough'. Once you prove yourself, they wanted to see more." Thats so true. Glad she's just going to chill and enjoy herself💙💙

SHE DESERVES ALL BURGER KINGS SHE WANTS!!!

MY UNPROBLEMATIC BABES!!!!

"She liked where she was right now. No. She loved it. And that was enough. She was enough." I'M SO DAMN HAPPY FOR HER!! I SAY GO OFF BESTIE!!

Viso gero! Nepamirškite padaryti pertraukos ir pailsėti kaip mūsų Viešpats ir Gelbėtojas Gigi 💚

I love how you are using the language that compliments the character. I am emo about that. And yes, work is back *loud groaning*

I loved this reaction so much ilyyyyyy

ALSO YES LET GIGI HAVE BURGER KING OMG.

Our lord and saviour Gigi supremacy forever.

#ily bb #lbaf

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americasmarauders · 3 years

Text

OKAY, let's talk about Brazil.

If you're a follower of mine, you know I talk about my country all the fucking time, whether I'm ranting and hating on it or just plain saying yall should see how awesome it is. Today, Imma explain something that happened today that may be the beginning of much much darker times in my country.

Unlike all the other countries in the world where private colleges are usually better and people seek it for their diploma, here in Brazil the public universities are the best. And not public like in the US where you still have to pay tuition, no, I'm talking the best college education you're gonna get FOR FREE. You pay your taxes, you pass the test, you choose your college and you have your 4+year education completely out of fees.

So, you'd think in a normal country people would value this, look at these universities (both federal and state universities) as their pride and joy: places where better professionals are formed, researches for vaccines, museums and shit ton of other super important stuff happens would be protected and bettered, right?

NOT IN BRAZIL.

You see public universities are seen as places of job hangers. What do I mean by that? Hundreds of employees paid by the government that have no objective functions other than getting paid and do nothing. Which may be true in VERY FEW cases. Other than that, our universities are seen as places where people do nothing, go there to study and never leave with a diploma, living off the government money to smoke weed, have sex and parteeeeeeeey.

You see, while the sex, weed and parties are true, as a student of a public university I can tell that that is not all we do. If not there is a very small percentage of our university life. Anyway that's a rant for another time.

Today, a very very important federal university announced that they would be closing their doors. UFRJ (Federal University of Rio de Janeiro) is the oldest University in our country, the Portuguese Emperor founded ir in like 1808 when they came to Brazil the first time to never go back to Portugual. It would like Harvard just deciding to close its doors.

They are closing their door due to lack of investment. The federal government plagued by the imaginary that universities are incubators of future communists and weed smokers cut their funds so much, for so many years that their just closing. They can't pay for anything, security, water bills, light bills, nothing.

That mot only means shutting down 2 vaccines for COVID studies, but several hospitals and museums. Because the government did not care enough to pay our education.

It is not a problem exclusive to the current administration, in fact governments since 2004 have been cutting their funds (funds of all federal colleges) while the Universities receive more and more students. But it is very daunting that during one of our most tyrannical government since the fall of the military dictatorship in 1984, a public university, a place where science and truth prevail, is closing their doors.

Now, after this news, other federal universities are threatening to close down for good. And that prospect is even scarier.

#luiza talks #is it because im brazilian?#brazil #brasil #eu adoro o brasil mas atualmente eu tenho é vergonha de ser brasileira mesmo

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thomasstalsworth · 4 years

Text

Failure

Funny the way life changes.

Tom held that piece of concept in his mind, rolling around and around for hours. He couldn’t shake it away. The expanse of time before and the rolling hill of it ahead seemed intent on pinching some kind of influence to his brain. There were days where he had trouble telling which way was which; what way went forward and which went back.

Blinking, he tried to recall the last time he cried. No -- sobbed. There was a distinction. He knew the prick of tears rather well. Hardly a man to avoid such things, he embraced the fullness of emotion. Keeping a ‘manly’ face was no concern, surely. He had spent evenings face down in pumpkin patches and felt no squalor or shame. Tears were easy.

But sobbing was different. When the whole of the body retched and twist and gave no quarter. When the mind was so entirely lost, so fully hurled to some void or pain or -- whatever. Or whatever it was. When there was nothing left you could possibly do but spill yourself.

He tried to recall the last time he sobbed.

Was it when he died? -- Which time? That thought alone curled up a knot of some unknown power within his gut. It paid its own pennymeal to the doubt that was so very constant his companion. Yet he always came back. Long he thought that a blessing, an insurance to do as he was want to do. Years a sailor, a laborer, a man who slept in pumpkin patches.

A joke.

Across the gentle Springtide waters which lay their hands upon the shore, he stared. There was not much else to do any longer. He had heaved and sobbed and screamed, tried to slake his pain with drink and found it all the worse than without. A shame and a hate that it felt good to push himself -- again, again once more and again -- toward drink to calm his unsteady heart.

Whatever much was left of it. Perhaps he came back wrong. Or the returning was some punishment? A playstroke of divine comedy. Babble. He knew that, it was just babble to think about. Maybe he was hoping that there was something exterior he could use to blame his unerring consistency to fail.

And fail.

The water did feel good. It was calm and cold, no longer swollen with Winter’s ire and not yet running and hardy with Summer’s joy. Springtide. A pleasant in-between that he knew. He had met that yearly whisper of tide for over four decades. A long life, moreso for the times it should have stopped.

Standing was not as easy, but stand he did. Both feet in the sand, letting the water lick at his toes. It was alarming how fast the nostalgia came back to him for when he was a boy, on the shores of Westfall and stood with his feet just the same, in the sand while --

Foot.

He looked down.

The water moved in all the same course it always did. Unerring, consistent, not unlike himself. But buoyed with natural purpose and he could not imagine what would provoke any soul to say that the water, the ocean and tide failed -- that it even could. It had no goal or task. It was, it existed, and that was all that was required.

He remembered when he was that way. It was simple. And lonely.

But was loneliness worse than the shame? The embarrassment? The failure and the doubt that tore at his gut and left him retching as though he could discard through his throat the heart that kept betraying and breaking and just -- really, really giving him a shit hand of cards.

A shit hand.

That was not right either. Again, he wanted to blame the exterior. His lips whet from a passing of the tongue in a moment of reflection on that. Had it only been hours ago that he had hollered and punished and raged at his daughter for doing the same. Not taking responsibility for her choices. Maybe he had no leg to stand on there.

Just a peg of wood.

Tom ran his tongue along his teeth, jaw flexing. He moved his glass up to his lips and drained it to the drop, letting it rattle as he put it back on the table. One hand moved up to scrape over his face, stubble rustling audibly from the motion. A finger moved out politely, despite his expression, toward Sigurd. "Sig -- y'can stay or not. Elsewise I should like ta' catch a drink with ya' in the city ta'night. Been a minute or two since we had cause ta' catch up."

He shut his eyes, occluding the brief harmony of the ocean ahead.

Of course he justified the anger that followed. It was easy to. He still held the pit of a righteous father’s rage in the low of his belly. He had given her chance, after chance, after chance. All the time in the world, he conjured, to ask for help. To answer him. To make a choice for the many instead of playing martyr. An impossible task, it seemed, to make her see that.

Perhaps he would not see it either were he in her place. How could he? He did not yet know. The world was bigger, scarier, more full of such broad and such tiny variables. An awful game of mathematics especially when one had to call to account for life.

Standing in the tide always helped with the pain.

At the time he had justified that too. The lost limb. He had to, it was that or die. Another account to pay for life. Tides knew, Light knew, all out in the Great Dark knew well enough that he had accrued an unsightly debt to that accord. How many more times could he gamble on coming back? It had failed once already. An exchange only made in the end by such an unrepeatable set of circumstances.

Standing in the tide always helped with the pain.

It helped his mind to see the water, to feel it trickle and roll over his one bare foot. It helped make that constant, unyielding sensation of the ghost of his lost limb. Always it felt like water. Water running over it, pouring over it, wet and cold. Looking down he felt better -- it matched. One foot felt it, so must the other. It helped.

Tom extended one of his sausage-like paws toward the middle of the table, elbow cocked. He opened it, flexing his fingers as he began to count down off of them. "Y'wont let me help ya'. Y'wont let yer' crew help ya'. Th'fuckin' demon, folk-fog genuine Red fuckin' Lord is out fer' you. Y'disappear fer' damn well on a month, then come back after all hell breaks loose n' press yer' ass into a squat in Stormwind."

There was a color to Tom's face, bright and not unlike a tomato, all the moreso for his gingered stubble. “I got a first mate -- an excellent sailor n' damn good friend -- nearly tortured ta' death. I got an apparent snake-heel faux-man, an elf, almost torn inside out. I got a whole crew who are so fuckin' terrified I have ta' hear worry about it through the damn dockhands because they're shakin' like fiends after not one, but two near-entire fatalities a' vessel” He kept counting off on his fingers as he went on.

Abby slammed her hand on the table getting up at -that- mention. “I did m'fuckin' best t'keep that from happenin'! T'keep it from happenin' again!”

He shut his eyes and inhaled. Sea air was good for the lungs, good for the soul. It had to be true, all the wives and fishermen and old sailors always said it. Why not let it be true?

Maybe she did.

Maybe she did her best, alone and without demand. Maybe that was character to celebrate, despite the result. Maybe things would have been worse had she done as he would have done.

Tides knew things tended to end up worse when he did what he did. It was a pattern that could have made him laugh were it not such a bellow to the fire of his shame.

“Y'had a damn chance t'talk -- sit down.”

He did give her a chance. More than one. More than just tonight. What else was a father supposed to do? Stay away, do nothing, be the absent coward. Do something, act on your wisdom and experience whatever it is, be the overbearing demon, the controller and the suffocator. Do little, but stand at the ready, a lighthouse and a pillar -- that was what he had tried to do. Give her at least one port in the storm. One place to run to. One place that gave when she needed, and held ready when she did not.

Be her father. Be better than his was. Be there.

“Now yer' playin' murder mystery here in th'Lionseat while th'whole world is tryin' it's damn hardest t'recover from what may end up bein' the bloodiest war what ever rocked th'planet. I got a good ship sittin' on its keel, in th'moors, with a first mate who gets winded goin' up the stairs, and now a captain who torches wildlife ta' blow off steam. -- An' you wont talk ta' me. Y'wont talk t'yer crew. Wont let neither help you with whatever th'fuck it is you've got goin' on. Still got no fuckin' idea why y'were gone a month, nor what happened, nor what y'decided ta' take it upon yer'self t'surrender to the RED FUCKIN' LORD WHILE I HAD CANNONS READY!”

An awful sort of mathematics, life was -- that much he had grown to understand.

A lighthouse was no aid to the sailor who kept far from shore. No light could reach those who were stubborn in their course and refused to turn away from the storm.

Tom burned a hole with his gaze, leaning back from the table.

“Moray,” Abby spoke. “Claude. -- How many more did you want me to add to that list? If I hadn't gone... that list would have been a lot longer.”

“NO -- no you -think- it would have been. Y'wanna spit yer' way through this life like you know every fuckin' thing an' all possibilties? Y'can do that. That's yer' business. Yer' a grown woman. But you can do all that one yer' own, if that's th'choice you want ta' keep making.”

What else was there to do but extinguish the light?

Fresh pain came to him. He had not thought another tear was left in his haggard skin and weary bone. But a few more. A few more he seemed able to manage. Had he done right? Had he been a father as he ought to be, as he wanted to be?

Maybe he was just like his own, just turned a few degrees of the compass. A different sort of failure.

“Righ' b'fore I lost m'stone, I said I was sorry.”

Tom took a valiant moment's effort to fill his lungs with air, “Sorry?”

“I told you that they threatened th'crew.”

He interject, “Yer' fuckin' sorry?”

Tom stared at her, genuinely waiting for something better.

“The Red Lord was at Hag Bay, and on account of me. He hurt my crew, on account of -me-. I wasn't going to drag them further in the mess, Pa. They already survived him once .... Most.”

Abby closed her eyes.

“Most survived him, most.”

Tom mealed up his mouth, tongue running hard against the inners of her teeth.

Abby opened her eyes to look back to Thomas, “So yes, I went alone after Moray. Yes, I made the deal to go and oblige so that the rest of the crew got out safe as well. So that they didn't need to die.”

“Y'lookin' for my pity right now? Martyrdom does not win you this argument, child. Nor does it give you a fuckin' leg ta' stand on when I know you are fuckin' smarter than that. Alone? Y'went alone? Same crew yer' spittin' fightin' words for, willin' to: shuck life for, were stuck tryin' desperately to hold their fuckin' ship together. No Captain, no First. Y'went alone? Y'left them alone.”

“Fine. Then punish me.”

And so he did.

Until the very end with blood in his face and harsh words and scraping teeth and anger and disagreement -- until the very end he wanted her to say something to him. Perhaps vile and perhaps sad and perhaps weak but he wanted her to say that maybe she could have used him. Just maybe things would have been better if she let him help her, let him at least be a wickie to point her compass true.

But no -- no.

Somehow, and by some means despite every ounce of love he had and want he had to be a father and to be a good father and to raise a daughter who trusted her Pa, trusted her family, or at the damn least trusted her crew --

He failed.

It seemed that was what he did best.

A seagull squawked at him as it passed. So late in the evening, on into the pale-grey settling where it was not quite night but not quite morning, it squawked at him. Mocking? Maybe. But maybe not. Even he knew better than to wallow in that much self-pity.

He sighed, and moved his toes in the water. Just like when he was a boy. Westfall. The first coast he had ever seen other than Crestfall. A hand came up to rub his jaw.

The anger was wrong. He knew that. Any Captain worth running sail under knew that. Anger did not make a sturdy crew, a stalwart crew, a family. But she was his daughter and despite everything, circumstance and oddity and the unending bivouac of life, he wanted so badly to help her, to keep her safe. To have that refused over and over .. he knew no answer other than resignation and the familiar sting of failure or anger. Anger felt good at the time.

It did not now.

Tom stared at her a moment, his eyes wide and no lighter the anger in them. But he exhaled, relinquished his hands from the table and stood up with a grunt.

Abby looked at him.

Tom spoke, “A'right. You wanna be on yer' own, deal with everythin' yer' own damn self, not let family, not let -crew- help you. Y'wanna be an island? Fine. Be an island. Yer' grounded an' stripped. Moray'll helm th'Dolphin back to Stormholme fer' reassignment. In th'time you've been sittin' here at harbour we could have sent two round trips from Barrowfield ta' Stormholme an' had grain ta' feed the refugees around Warfang's holdouts. Y'can add those lives to yer' martyr-list.”

It had hurt worse than his leg. It had hurt in a way that he did not know he could hurt. Life has a powerful capacity, he had begun to understand, to inflict ever worse punishments to the soul. In all the manners of darkstroke humor and irony that he could conjure, and more. And even giving in to that hurt wounded him all the more, as it was selfish. Selfish to feel pity for himself, to feel as if he did not deserve it. Maybe he did. It was all just mud anymore.

“Admiral.”

Abby stared him down.

“I ain't yer' Admiral anymore, child,” he cut back.

“Father.”

“So now it's time ta' talk like family?”

“It's never been time to talk like family because you don't want to -talk-. You want to lecture. You want to get mad.”

Maybe she was right about that too.

Tom held up a finger, “No no. Put that martyr, that victim card away. Ain't no use here at a table with adults. You want t'argue I'm unfair? Argue.”

Abby clenched her jaw.

“Very well. I will have my effects removed from the Dolphin by morning. -- And return to the Red Lord within a few weeks end, I'm sure.”

And there it was. Even to the bitter end, he tried to give her the chance. Take the rope, take the rope, please Tides almighty I know I know just please take the rope --

Then she left.

Then he left.

Then he found himself standing in the tidewater just before the break of dawn, unable to sleep, spending the entire night retching and screaming and sobbing and wanting so desperately and pathetically to wither in on himself so he did not have to face the fact that he was, to the bone, a failure. A failed father, a failed Admiral, a failed man. And to somehow come to terms with that, and the responsibilities that he still had despite such.

He looked back to the little inlet, the beach head and small cove he had tread to from the harbour. North of the Stormwind lighthouse, a little fishing nook he knew well. High tide never quite reached it and he had slept there his share of times. But now it was his wife sleeping there with him. The only real lighthouse he knew: his anchor. He used to think he was hers as well.

Maybe not an anchor, maybe just dead weight.

Elaianna jogged forward to catch up once more and gently tried to pluck the bottle free from his grasp. "-Thomas Stalsworth,-" she breathed exasperatedly. Tom stopped in his step, not about to fight with his wife over a simple bottle of rotgut, “I'm not doin' it. I'm not doin' this right now, a'right?”

Elaianna hooked her finger in the collar of his tunic so he could not pull away.

Tom did not fight off her hand, but he did not move.

“You're frightening me, Thomas. Not in a spooky sort of terror, but it's a different sort of fear. Just look me in the eyes and tell me everything will be alright. Can you do that for me?”

Tom whet his lips slowly, fat tongue lolling out. He exhaled, draining all the air from his lungs until he was barren of it. A man on the bottom of the sea. He actually had cause to understand the sensation now. He would have preferred to be back there, in some ways. "Everything'll be fine. Jus' as it's always fine. I'm fine. Aye? There it is."

He tried not to think about what they had said next, what he had said. The weakness.

But she had comforted him, consoled him no matter how hard he tried to make her leave and let him sit in his sorrow in the tidewater alone. It was more than he deserved, he knew that.

The bare glimmer of a false dawn started. He could tell the difference. Enough years at sea, staring out at the horizon -- it became second nature. A false dawn, not quite the first light. In his diminished, damaged state he found it quite appropriate.

@abighail-atwater

@elaianna

#RP #Canon #Difficult #Too Old

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