#finished loading my dishwasher about half an hour ago so I could run it because I'd run out of clean pretty much everything

[usodeshou]

Guess who's sick! 😬

[honeytae]

God, I love you, but what are you doing to my towels?

hi bubs! honestly i don’t really know what this is..i literally just got into my softest joonie feels for this one (i am in pain). i hope you all enjoy this fluffy little lovefest between joon and the reader :( tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: fluff word count: 2.0k

You did not want to get up. 

The comforting rise and fall of the chest pressing against your back made it impossible to, your boyfriend’s arms securing you in a spooning position as you lay wide awake in the sleeping man’s grip. 

Namjoon had gotten home from work nearly an hour ago now, sleepily crawling into bed where you’d been occupied reading a book while waiting for his arrival. Mumbling a question about the plot as he lightly kissed your shoulder, he had laid down behind you, seemingly to get a look at the words written on the pages. 

In the middle of your answer, you’d been interrupted with the sound of his adorable snores, stopping yourself with a smirk as you craned your neck to look back at him without moving your body to avoid startling him in his sleep. 

You had let him hold you for a while, but your mind was now reeling with things you needed to be doing, chores that you wouldn’t have time for tomorrow or the next day. 

As much as you adored spending time in your own personal human heater’s arms, you really had to get up and get things done. 

Placing your hand over his to gently intertwine your fingers, you slowly guided his hand away from its resting place on your stomach, lifting his arm just slightly into the air to scoot out of his trap. 

Hearing a muffled noise come from the man’s lips, you paused your actions, eyes scanning his face for signs of him stirring before continuing when you concluded he was very much still in his own little dreamland, mouth gaped open slightly as he rested his cheek on his open palm.

Silently tip-toeing out of the room, you set out for the kitchen, tucking your fingers underneath the hair tie wrapped around your wrist to gather your loose strands back and out of the way. 

Deciding to get to work on the dirty plates stacked in the sink, you rolled the sleeves of your sweatshirt up your arms, grabbing one of the bowls from breakfast to properly rinse it under the hot water from the faucet.

Setting the bowl down in the sink once it was thoroughly cleaned out, you breathed out a deep sigh, appreciative of the silence in your building that made naps a guarantee at any time of the day. After pulling another all-nighter in the studio, Namjoon desperately needed one.

It was on the third dish that the silence was interrupted; but not by neighbors.

“Babe?”

You looked up from the porcelain at the sound of Namjoon’s voice calling for you, lowering the water pressure of the tap so you could properly respond to him.  

“Kitchen!” You answered his unasked question, chuckling when you heard his footsteps immediately close in on the kitchen in response.

Approaching you from behind, he wrapped a limb around your torso, setting his chin on your shoulder as you turned your neck to smile at him. 

“Hey, cutie.” He grinned, locking both arms around your waist to hug you tight to his chest, picking his head up to pucker his lips against the side of your head, making you giggle at his exaggerated “muah” punctuating the action. 

“Hi, Joonie.” You greeted, turning your head to the side to press your lips to his.

“Why are you out of bed?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at the man as your hands blindly placed the dish you’d been rinsing back down in the basin in front of you.

He smiled in response as he leaned his forehead onto yours, his dark eyes shining back at you as he lightly swayed the two of you back and forth.   

“Missed you.” Namjoon replied, puffy eyes blinking at you as he watched you turn your focus back to the plate in your hand, a small smile playing on your lips at his excuse.

“Sorry, baby. Just wanted to get these done, you know how I am.” You shrugged, Namjoon’s chuckle against your ear vibrating the cartilage with his proximity.

You smiled at the feeling, the familiarity of your boyfriend always being extra clingy whenever he was sleepy. You loved it. 

“I do. It’s okay, though, I should be up helping anyway.” He said, to which you immediately shook your head to negate his statement. 

“You should be sleeping, Joonie.” You lightly scolded him for being up, the man sighing at your stubbornness before pressing his lips to the back of your head, unwrapping his arms from you and stepping away from your body. 

Thinking that he was headed back to bed with the sudden withdrawal, you slid the rinsed plate into the designated pile for ones that needed to go into the dishwashing machine below the counter, readily going back to work. 

Feeling Namjoon’s presence next to you, you turned to look over at him, spotting the mini towel in his hand as he reached over to grab a plate from the drying rack of the dishwasher. 

“Hey, hey, hey. No.” You grabbed the dishtowel from his hands, the man shooting you a confused look as you threw the towel over your shoulder. 

“I just want you to go lay down, okay? I got this, baby.” You insisted, the man opening his mouth to protest before you cut him off again.

“You can’t tell me you’re not tired, Joon. You were in the studio all night.” You looked at his dark eye bags with concern, the man brushing your words off with a soft smile. 

“I’m a little tired. But-” 

He laughed when you cut him off with a scoff, hands settling on his shoulders to turn his body out of the kitchen. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll take a nap. But not because you told me to.” He pointed at you, you waving him off with a smile as you turned back to your dishes. 

The fact that your boyfriend was finally complying to sleep made you speed up your chores, putting the dishes away and loading up the second group of dishes in record time to rejoin the man in your bed. 

After filling a glass of water for your snoozing boyfriend, you made your way back to your bedroom in hopes to finally cuddle in peace now that you’d done something productive, excitement filling your body at the thought of his warm body heat, incomparable to the blankets you were forced to use when he was gone. 

The bedroom was dark, shades drawn, so you slowly stalked into the room to make no noise. Walking in a bit farther though, you noticed that your bed had no body-sized lump in it like you were expecting. 

Running your hand over the empty sheets to confirm your suspicion, you exhaled a groan, setting the glass of water down on the night-side table and turning to search for the stubborn man with a mumbled profanity. 

“Hey Joon?” You called out into the hallway, huffing when you got no response. 

Pushing the creaky bathroom door open with your palm, you discovered no sign of his presence, frowning as you turned to march down the hall to the living room. 

Entering the room, your eyes quickly fell to the man sitting on the floor, a basket full of clothes placed next to him on the ground as he squinted in concentration, fully focused on folding the washcloths into perfect squares. 

The vision would’ve been laughable if you weren’t so annoyed, utterly frustrated at the man’s stubborn attitude but endeared at his good-natured heart.

“What are you doing?”

Namjoon’s guilty wide-eyed expression nearly made you lose composure as his head snapped up at the sound of your voice, a small smile threatening to make an appearance on his lips as you crossed your arms over your chest sternly. 

“Laundry?” He answered in a question, resuming his folding as he laid a towel out between the spread V of his legs. 

You stifled another laugh at the picture in front of you, Namjoon hunched over the towel as he folded it into thirds. His long legs stretched out in front of him for what seemed like miles, arms outstretched to hold up the material he’d been folding corner to corner. 

Eyes meeting yours once again, he raised his eyebrows innocently, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as you walked into the room and sat beside him. 

“You’re such a pain in the ass.” You sighed, grabbing one of his t-shirts to fold before placing it on his growing pile on the ground. 

“I love you.” He leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek, you rolling your eyes at him as you reached for the towel in his hands.

“Yeah, yeah.” You replied, looking around the floor in search of a pile for the towels Namjoon had apparently been occupied folding. 

Your jaw nearly dropped at the way they were stacked atop each other, each one atrociously rolled in a way that had your type A skin crawling immediately. He had to be fucking kidding.

“Did you do that to mess with me?” You looked up at him, the man’s eyes widening in confusion as you gestured to the towels.

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking back at you from the pile with an adorable puzzled look on his face. 

You really couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your own, sitting up on your knees to shuffle over to the pile to tidy it to your liking. 

“This, Joonie. This is what I mean.” You tucked your finger into the towel at the bottom of the stack to tug the pile closer to you, the man watching as you picked up the top one, now wrinkled from Namjoon’s initial folding of it. 

“God, I love you, but what are you doing to my towels?” You half whined, Namjoon chuckling as he watched you smooth the fabric out onto your thighs and refold it, placing it onto the ground beside you before grabbing the next one. 

You peeked at Namjoon out of the corner of your eye as he moved his body closer to yours, his arms draping around your waist distracting you only slightly as you concentrated on finishing up your re-folding.

Leaning his face into the side of your head, Namjoon began pressing gentle pecks to your hair, slowly bringing his lips forward to sprinkle kisses on your cheek. 

Turning your face to push your lips to his, Namjoon hummed into your mouth at the unexpected action, parting his lips when your tongue made contact with his bottom lip. 

You leaned farther into him as he placed his hand on your cheek so that your jaw was supported by his palm, welcoming you to straddle his lap with an encouraging grip on the back of your thigh, gently guiding you onto him. 

“I’m sorry I messed up your towels.” He mumbled, you humming in response before kissing him again. 

“You know what will make you forgiven?” You asked, putting on a sultry tone as you fluttered your lashes at him. 

“What?” He smirked, hands gripping your hips a little tighter at your seductive tone.

“Go get some damn sleep.” You replied dryly, Namjoon’s jaw dropping as you rolled off his lap, coming to a stand and walking out of the room, causing him to scramble up off the ground to go after you. 

You giggled as you ran to the bedroom, hearing Namjoon’s footsteps thumping on the hardwood floor behind you as you ran away from him. 

Throwing yourself on the mattress, you intercepted the man as he crawled atop your body, smiling down at you as your chuckles faded, eyes crinkling even more as you brushed his hair back from his forehead with a gentle swipe of your palm.

“You’re teasing me.” He murmured, soft tired eyes tracing your features in the dimmed room as you smirked up at him. 

“Hm. But I got you into bed, didn’t I?” You arched a brow at him, butterflies erupting in your stomach when you felt his palm slide up your shirt, fingers tracing over the hem of your bra. 

“Hm. You did.” He agreed, leaning down to catch his lips with yours again as you melted under his touch, sinking into the mattress more and more as he continued soothing your lips with his pillowy soft pair.

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 6 - 7

A continuation of Leo and Regulus’ attempts (antics) to give Regulus the childhood he never had.

CW: Food talk

Please message me if you feel I need to add any content warnings

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

[This is currently unedited, and I'm not that happy with it, but also my writing mojo has decided it is vacay time so it is what is it]

6. Go to camp! You’ll make friends for life.

“Le! Did you order something?” Finn called, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen carrying a large box.

“Yeah, it’s the t-shirts,” Leo nodded, scraping the onions he’d just chopped into the pot. “Put it on the island for me please, babe.”

Finn looked down at the box, making a show of testing its weight before he looked back at Leo with wide eyes, “This seems like...a lot.”

After adjusting the temperature on the stovetop slightly, Leo washed his hands and made to inspect the delivery. “Err, yeah. Potts got wind of the plan and got all excited. Half the team are coming now,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Of course that happened,” Finn threw his head back with a laugh. “You might as well make it a thing.”

“A thing?” Leo repeated, throwing Finn a bemused look.

“Uhh huh,” Finn nodded.

“I’m gonna need more, babe,” Leo said, lifting one of the shirts out of the box and running the material through his fingers, humming a note of approval.

“More shirts? There’s like 50 here,” Finn frowned.

“No, love,” Leo laughed, shaking his head “More on what a ‘thing’ is.”

“Ohh, got you,” Finn chuckled, leaning against the counter. “I just meant, if half the team is coming anyway, you might as well invite the other half. Get the kids involved. You know, a thing.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Leo cocked his head.

“Well, I did go to Harvard,” Finn shrugged, rooting around in the fruit bowl to find a suitable pear. One that wasn't too big because Finn got bored of flavours quickly and could never finish them. One that wasn't too soft, because he hated the sticky mess on his hands. In the early days of their relationship, Leo had been excited for the adventures that were going to come with his boyfriends, but he hadn't been prepared for how much the little nuggets of information he would discover about them would mean to him. The satisfied smile that appeared on his Finn’s face as he procured the perfect one was infectious.

“Such big brain energy and yet he still can’t load a dishwasher,” Leo retorted, motioning to the stack of crockery that had been abandoned on the counter.

***

“I have no idea why I put up with you,” Regulus scowled, covering his eyes with his hands. “Okay, I promise I can’t see.”

“Because I’m your best friend, obviously,” Leo replied, making a stupid face to ensure that Regulus was, in fact, telling the truth, and began to lead him towards the back door.

“Obviously,” Regulus drawled. “Do I get a choice in this best friend business?”

“Well, you can try and resist it if you want, but I am incredibly loveable and inevitably you will have to succumb to my charm so you might as well just deal with it,” Leo said.

Regulus gave a resigned sigh, “I suppose as best friends go you aren’t too bad.”

Leo laughed, punching Regulus lightly in the shoulder before telling him to watch out for the step up into the back yard.

“I hope you know that if I break my neck, you will be paying for -” Regulus started.

“Wegggie!!” Harry shouted through a mouthful of graham crackers that James had been trying to buy his silence with.

“Is that?” Regulus pulled his hands from his face, his eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. Leo had to admit he may have gone a little overboard with the execution of the summer camp. What had started off as a few classic summer camp activities had turned into a carefully planned extravaganza. There was a climbing wall and he’d hired an events team that taught archery. Between the games of dodgeball and capture the flag, there would be time for tye-dying, friendship bracelet making, water balloons, tug of war and much more. Of course he hadn’t skimped on the food either: burgers, pizza, vegetable sticks, taco salad and hot dogs; there was a long buffet table laden with an endless supply.

Regulus pulled Leo back inside, tugging him further into the kitchen so that the crowd of Lion’s players and their families couldn’t see them. “Leo, this is too much.”

Leo looked at Regulus trying to read his friend, but the other boy was infuriatingly closed off. “Look, if you really don’t want this, I’ll go and tell everybody to enjoy themselves and we can get out of here.”

Regulus huffed out a breath, “It’s not that I don’t want to...it’s...it’s weird everybody being here. They are obviously just here because you asked them and I feel like an add on.”

“Okay, let me stop you right there,” Leo held up a hand. “You practically live at Kris’ house the amount of time you spend there with Avie. Celeste loves you like a seventh? eighth? child...honestly, I’ve lost track of how many children they’ve adopted at this point. You and Olli…”

“Alright, alright,” Regulus interrupted, “I get your point.” He cocked his head slightly, “Huh, I guess I didn’t realise how much I’ve settled here.”

“You need a second to process that or are you ready to go have some fun, because I think Harry might eat all the s’more supplies if we wait much longer.”

***

Leo leaned into Logan’s shoulder, smiling as he watched his boyfriend show Katie how to toast her s’more in the bonfire that crackled in front of them. He was admiring the softness of the French leaving Logan’s mouth, when Regulus plopped himself onto the large log they were sitting on, a sleeping Aveline clinging to him.

“Hey, Reggie,” Leo greeted, turning his soft smile to his friend. “You alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to say thank you,” Regulus nodded, shifting Aveline into a more comfortable position. Leo noticed that Regulus had added another 3 new friendship bracelets to his haul since he had last got a moment to catch up with him. “For all this. This day has been amazing. All of it. I’m not sure if summer camp would have been my thing really, but I never really got to do fun family garden parties either and this has been incredible. ”

Any reply that Leo was about to make was disturbed, by Aleandra dumping a water balloon over Marc’s head right in front of them, their loud screams causing Aveline to wake with a cry.

7.Decorate your room! Paint the walls, buy new bedding and pick some new accessories! Make it your space.

"Well," Leo set a pile of magazines on the bed with a soft thud. It was a little old-school, but he was adamant that it was easier to come up with a complete picture this way. "What do you like? You don't have to know exactly, but we can't go to Ikea without any idea." He let out a soft snort at the unintentional rhyme.

Regulus looked up at him, wide eyed, as if he'd just asked him to supply the solution for world peace. "I don't know," he shrugged, toying with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You must have some thoughts."

"I don't know," Regulus snapped. "I've never had to make these decisions before. There was no point liking anything, because our parents would do what they wanted either way." He spat the words, and despite how it made Leo feel he knew the anger was a sign of some sort of progress. Not even a few months ago, his friend had spoken about his childhood like it was just a different form of normal.

"I'm sorry," Leo apologised, climbing onto the bed next to Regulus.

"It's not your fault, is it," Regulus shrugged, tucking his knees to his chest.

"I shouldn't have pushed you for an answer," Leo clarified, moving the magazines out the way and dragging his laptop from the bedside table. “Look, how about we go through Pinterest and you can pick some pins you vibe with. I’m sure we’ll find a trend.”

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed, shuffling closer to Leo. “Yeah, okay.”

***

“What the hell, there’s more,” Regulus said in awe as they rounded another corner to be confronted by rows of rattan baskets.

“I think we’re nearly at the end.” Leo looked up from the map he was trying to follow, almost stumbling over the cart when Regulus came to a sudden halt.

“These are nice,” Regulus mused, picking up a walnut coloured weaved basket. “My towels will look nice in these.”

“I’m sure they would,” Leo chuckled. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by how quickly Regulus had gained an affinity for interior design considering how he had taken to honing his clothing style with such ease.

“Oh! But these are nice too.” Regulus turned to show Leo another basket, that was identical in every way except for being perhaps a shade lighter.

Leo groaned. They had been in the store for over 3 hours and the cart was overflowing. His friend was adamant he was going to pay his own way and considering the short amount of time he had played for Slytherin along with the legal fees to end his contract early, the man was having to learn to budget to be able to afford college. Leo had suggested that doing a couple of interviews would leave him with a fair buffer, but Regulus had wanted to put as much space between hockey and his new life as possible. Leo was supportive, but Regulus seemed to be having trouble getting out the habit of buying everything he wanted.

“Right, pick one and then close your eyes. We need to get out of here.”

***

“Up a little on the left,” Leo instructed, shaking his head as Regulus lifted the left side of the photo frame considerably. “No, not that much.”

“That’ll do.”

“It’s not straight!”

“Neither are you and you don’t see us complaining,” Regulus huffed as he adjusted the frame again.

“You’re just jealous,” Leo threw one of Regulus’ new cushions across the room, hitting him squarely in the back of the head.

“Eww,” Regulus deadpanned. “And please do not throw my things,” he glared, hugging the cushion to his chest.

Leo was about to make a comment back, but he was interrupted by Sirius clearing his throat in the doorway.

“Got you a present,” Sirius said, holding out a large bag.

“Sirius.” Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, his face set into a disapproving stare. “I told you -”

“Think of it as an early birthday present,” Sirius interrupted.

“My birthday is not for another 4 months.”

“Just take it. I promise I’ll let you do this the way you want, but you’ve got to let me buy you things every now and then too. That’s what big brothers do.”

Regulus sighed, crossing the room to take the bag from Sirius. “Thanks,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting despite his best efforts. The smile spread further as he laid the mustard coloured herringbone throw he’d been salivating over in the small boutique they’d visited a few days prior.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius nodded. “Looks good in here, by the way. We’ll have to find you an apartment in New York that will be big enough to fit it all in.” he commented, walking away as he finished his sentence.

“I’m paying for the apartment!” Regulus called after him. Leo barked a laugh as Regulus ranted about stubborn humans on NHL wages. Regulus poked a finger at him. “You can be quiet. I know this was your doing.”

[theycallmebecca]

Drabble: The Bet 2020

I never post stories this late... but here we are. The Patriots and Seahawks game ended about 20 minutes ago now... in a shocking fashion. I sat on my couch just staring in disbelief for like two minutes straight.

Anyway... here is the Chris and Ellie drabble I hinted that I was writing earlier tonight. It ended up being centered on Scott more than Chris and Ellie, but I’m not mad about that. 

But here we go, here’s the drabble.

Title: The Bet 2020

Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC Ellie Spencer-Evans

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Language

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission. 

September 20, 2020

Scott watched Chris and Ellie as they worked side by side in the kitchen while he supplied Tommy with cheerios.

As usual on a Sunday morning, Chris was rocking a Patriots shirt and Ellie was wearing a Seahawks shirt. However, neither of them had mentioned the fact that the two teams were playing each other.

If it had been any other couple with a newborn at home, Scott would believe that they didn't know that their teams were playing each other. But it was Chris and Ellie. He knew they knew and he knew they had a bet.

"Should be an interesting game tonight," he said, conversationally.

"Should be," Chris agreed.

"Especially now that the Patriots have a quarterback that can actually run," Ellie muttered under her breath.

With the kitchen island between them, Scott could only imagine what his brother did that made his wife jump and squeal before she whipped around to glare at him.

"Moe! Moe!" Tommy said from beside him, pounding his little fists on the highchair tray.

Turning towards his nephew, Scott saw that the tray was empty. He poured some more cereal out for his nephew and smiled.

"Tankoo," Tommy said before grabbing a fist full of cheerios.

Turning back to Chris and Ellie, he rolled his eyes when they saw them being flirty. Clearly, Ellie had forgiven him for whatever he had done.

"Innocent eyes in the room," he called out.

"Not the worst he's been in the room for," Chris replied with an unapologetic shrug. "Or were you talking about yourself."

Reaching over, Scott put a hand in front of Tommy's face while he used his other hand to flip his brother off.

"Behave," Ellie said, grabbing Chris's hand to keep him from returning the gesture. Then she leveled a look at Scott. "You, too."

Scott smiled innocently in response, making her roll her eyes.

"I'm on to you," she told him. "Both of you."

"That's what you think," Chris said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "But we're really good actors."

Ellie scoffed but didn't try to free herself. Instead, she leaned back against him and rolled her eyes for only Scott to see.

Deciding to not beat around the bush anymore, Scott asked, "So what's the bet this time?"

"Bet?" Ellie asked in an almost believable surprised tone. "What bet?"

"Ullbay itshay," Scott responded, saying 'bull shit' in pig latin to get around the no cursing around the babies rule.

Chris snorted and gave him a small thumbs up at his creativity.

Ellie, on the other hand, put a hand to her chest in mock offense. "Are you suggesting that we, two adults, can not see our two teams play without betting on the outcome?" she asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Scott replied. "Because they've played each other twice since we've known you and you betted on both of those games. Not to mention that the two of you betted on which team was going to go farther the first year we knew you."

"And it's 2 to 1, baby," Ellie said, giving a little dance that had Chris grabbing her waist to hold her still to keep things rated PG. "On the way to 3 to 1."

"Uh, no, it's going to be 2 and 2 after today," Chris argued.

"So what is the bet?" Scott asked again.

"Oh, it's nothing big," Ellie replied with a shrug. "Kind of boring, actually."

"I don't know if I would go that far," Chris said with raised eyebrows. "Sometimes, it is. Big, that is."

"If you're talking about what I think you're talking about, I don't want to know anymore," Scott replied.

"Diapers, we're talking about dirty diapers," Ellie told him. "Specifically, poopy diapers. Get your mind out of the gutter, Scott."

Scott glared at Chris for setting him up.

Chris just grinned and gave a small shrug.

"The loser has to change all the poopy diapers for a week," Ellie explained. "I'm looking forward to handing the boys over and not having to deal with any surprise blow outs."

"Imagine all you want, cause it's not happening," Chris stated. "The Patriots are going to whoop the Seahawks."

"Speaking of poopy diapers," Scott said as a smell reached his nose. "I think we have one."

"I'll take care of it," Chris said with a sigh. Walking around the island, he came over to the table. "Let's go change your butt, little guy." He freed Tommy from the highchair and then carried him out of the room.

"So is the bet really just about changing dirty diapers?" Scott asked Ellie as he carried the highchair tray over to dump the leftover cheerios.

"We're keeping it simple this time around," Ellie replied with a shrug. "Your brother is just afraid he'll lose again."

"No I'm not," Chris called from the next room over.

Scott met Ellie's eyes and she mouthed, "yes he is."

"I heard that," Chris called again.

Ellie rolled her eyes and then groaned as Marcus's cries came through the baby monitor.

"My turn," she said.

-----

Hours later, they were all in the family room watching the end of the Los Angeles Chargers vs Kansas City Chiefs game. Ellie had been thrilled when she saw that Justin Herbert, a rookie quarterback from Oregon, started the game for the Chargers. The Chargers had lost in overtime, but it had been an exciting game.

Ellie and Marcus were cuddled in the corner of the sectional couch, Dodger curled up next to them. While Chris and Tommy were on the floor playing with wood puzzles.

"Unca Soot pay," Tommy said, looking up at Scott with a face that Scott couldn't say no to.

Putting his beer on the coffee table, Scott sank down on the floor with him and helped him with a puzzle.

When the game started, Scott moved back up onto the couch with Ellie while Chris stayed on the floor with Tommy. After an exciting pick six by the Patriots to start the game, the Seahawks were able to score their own touchdown. By half time, it was all tied up at 14, with both teams scoring again.

With Chris and Ellie putting the boys to bed during half time, Scott put together the finishing touches on the crockpot dinner he and Ellie had put together earlier in the day.

By the time they came back downstairs, dinner was ready and they carried their food into the family room just in time for the second half of the game to start.

The third quarter saw the Seahawks pull ahead, but the Patriots didn't give up. As the final minutes of the game ticked down, Chris, Ellie and Scott were on the edge of their seats waiting to see how it would all play out.

The Patriots marched down the field and with two second left tried to score the winning touchdown from three yards out.

And failed.

Scott groaned and Chris collapsed back against the couch cushions in complete agony.

Ellie said nothing as she ran her fingers over Chris's short hair. Even she was shocked by the outcome of the game, especially the way it had ended.

"It was a good and exciting game," she finally said after a few minutes. "Right until the last second." Chris and Scott groaned. "Too soon?"

Chris tilted his head and shot her a look that told her he wasn't amused.

"Aw, it's ok, babe," Ellie said, the joy of winning flooding her veins. "I still love you, even if you cheer for shitty teams."

A squeal was the next thing that escaped her lips when Chris lunged for her.

Shaking his head, Scott grabbed the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. At the end of the day, he knew that regardless of whose team had one, they both would have changed poopy diapers. They'd been a team when it had just been them and Tommy and they seemed to have it all together with the addition of Marcus, too.

As he started to clean up the dinner dishes, Chris and Ellie came into the room carrying the rest. He rinsed and loaded the dishes while Chris put away the leftovers and Ellie wiped down the table.

"Do you want me to start the dishwasher?" Scott asked them.

"Sure, that would be great," Ellie replied with a smile.

Opening the doors to the cabinet below the sink, Scott missed the mischievous look that passed between the couple. But he did see the neon yellow sticky note taped to the bottle of the dishwashing detergent that said "use this one in the dishwasher".

"Fuck you both," he said as they both started cracking up. He'd known they'd bring up his dish soap in the dishwasher situation eventually. "Seriously, fuck you."

"We love you," Ellie said with a giggle. "And go Seahawks!" She blew him a kiss and then ran for the stairs.

Chris rolled his eyes, but smiled at Scott. "Happy early birthday, see you in the morning," he said before following his wife upstairs.

Scott shook his head as he put the soap in the dishwasher and then started it. Grabbing the key for his cabin, he turned off the kitchen lights and then made his way out to the one bedroom cabin he was staying in. With his mom back home, he could have moved into the house with them, but he liked having his own space and the small cabin afforded him that. He had a bathroom and a kitchenette and it was all he needed.

[katahnisharma]

old married couple | p.p.

Summary: Dating Peter means you’re basically dating all the Avengers too. And they don’t hesitate to point out when you both start turning into “that” couple.

Warnings: pure fluff, i just needed the therapy man

A/N: An anon requested this last week, so I hope you see this and like it! By the way, my requests are open so if there’s anything you want me to write just shoot me an ask and I’ll get to work on it. Also Tumblr apparently won’t let me link things so if you’re looking for my masterlist, playlist, taglist, or writing challenge it’s in my bio ♡

It had been exactly two years since you joined the Avengers as the resident kid genius. Tony had picked you from Midtown along with Peter for his internship, and he quickly found that you were an even better hacker and programmer than he was. Pretty soon he had you working alongside him, helping him make prototypes and suits.

That’s when you first met Peter Parker.

You were with Tony after school one day, tinkering with E.D.I.T.H’s programming, when Tony introduced his other intern. You knew Tony had another intern, but you’d never met them before. They always came in at a different time, though you knew it was a boy from your school.

You had no idea it was Peter Parker.

“H-hi, Y/N!” Peter stuttered, blushing when you nearly dropped your screwdriver. You smiled shyly, gripping the table as Tony started to tell Peter something about thermodynamics. You tried to keep working, but you just couldn’t focus. Peter kept looking back at you when he thought you weren’t looking, trying not to make eye contact with you.

He was so distracting, and it didn’t help that you’d had a crush on him since fourth grade.

The first time Peter asked you on a date, you were wearing your “ugly pretty clothes” and binge watching Gilmore Girls. Your parents were gone for the weekend, so the house was quiet on your own. But you were in no state to see your mail man, let alone the cute boy interning with you when he knocked on your door.

“Peter?” You asked, opening the door to a very nervous Peter. He was holding something behind his back, and when you tried to look he moved back. You were well aware that he was wearing nice, clean clothes while you looked like a rat’s nest, but there was nothing to do about it now.

“Hey, uh, you home alone?” He asked, realizing most of the house was dark. You nodded, blushing when you realized you were wearing a tank top. Peter noticed and decided to try very hard not to look at your body and focus on your face.

“Yeah, my parents are gone for the weekend. Wanna come in?” You asked, and Peter took your invitation. When he got inside, he shakily handed you a bunch of flowers and asked you if you wanted to go with him to stargaze on Friday.

“I mean, you don’t have to. This is weird, I’m sorry, I should go.” Peter rambled, after you stood silent for a moment. You were so shocked you just stared at the flowers in your hands, peonies which were your favorite. Then you remembered Peter Parker had just asked you a question and you snapped back to life.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I was just caught off guard, I wasn’t expecting this at all. I mean, I’ve liked you for who knows how long and you’re so cute and smart and I’m such a nerd so I never thought you’d…...what I meant to say was yes absolutely. I’d love to.” You finished, biting your lip nervously. What if he didn’t mean it, or he decided he didn’t want to go with you anymore? Peter turned back around and grinned.

“You mean it? Really?” He asked, trying not to smile like an idiot. Peter had fallen for you months ago, but he only really screwed up the courage to ask you out after his talk with Tony. Tony had told him that he was pretty sure you liked him back, and even told him what your favorite flowers were. And here you were, looking like a goddess and telling him that you thought he was cute and had liked him for a while now.

Why hadn’t he done this sooner?

“Yeah, I mean it. Like, I really like you.” You said, your face going red. You weren’t one to be so open about your feelings, but Peter thought it was adorable how your cheeks tinted when you talked to him. He felt the same way about you, his stomach had butterflies in it if you even looked at him.

“So, can I pick you up at 7?”

“Yeah, I’ll be waiting.”

Fast forward two years and you and Peter were Stark Tower’s reigning stupidly cute couple. You and Peter were basically attached at the hip, working together, eating together, cuddling together. Tony once caught the two of you having a food fight in the kitchen and had to ban whipped cream from the premises. Secretly, he was happy his two interns were so perfect for each other.

But none of the Avengers could remember when the two of you became such an old married couple.

“Peter! Come on, we’re going to the dentist!” You called, waiting downstairs for your boyfriend to appear. You’d made the appointment months ago, even though Peter hated the dentist, and promised to go with him. May was at work, and she was so grateful she’d made you cookies as a thank you (which Peter may or may not have eaten the day before).

“Noooo!!! I’m not going, I hate the dentist. That fluoride stuff is disgusting!” He yelled, holed up in his room. You sighed, noticing Natasha trying not to laugh as you threw a pillow at her. Peter groaned, trudging down the stairs and shooting death glares at you. He was wearing a very oversized sweatshirt and flannel pants, so he’d basically just gotten out of bed.

“You’re such a baby, let’s go.” You giggled, kissing Peter’s cheek as you held his hand. Peter grumbled, but a little smile formed on his lips. He loved when you kissed him, and he’d suffer through the dentist if it meant you gave him kisses afterward.

“Fine, but I want kisses when I’m done.” Peter whispered, and you finally agreed to it just to get him out the door. Natasha stood in the kitchen, shaking her head at the two of you. She wrote it off as just a cute thing long time couples do. Sure, maybe it was weird but she wasn’t going to judge.

But that wasn’t the last time it came up.

“Hey do you want-?”

“Cookies? Yeah, I’ll buy some. What else do we need?” You finished, writing things down on the grocery list. Steve and Bruce were watching from across the room, rolling their eyes. Recently, the two of you kept finishing each other’s sentences and it was getting annoying.

“Probably popcorn, we ate all of it. Oh and-”

“Lemonade.”

“Yeah, I was just about to say that. Also, can you please-?”

“Swing by the dry cleaners and pick up your suit? On it.” You stuffed the notepad in your bag and waved to a stunned Steve and Bruce. Peter looked up from his seat on the couch, smiling at you lovingly.

“Wow, look at us finishing each other’s sentences. I love you, be safe.” Peter said, throwing you your jacket. It was raining outside, and he didn’t like seeing you get wet or cold. You blushed, noticing Steve and Bruce exchanging glances.

“Love you too, I’ll be back in a bit.”

The next time it was Wanda’s turn to notice it.

She was sitting on the sofa with Thor, watching reruns of Friends when you bounded through the door in a huff. Peter followed behind, holding a laundry basket full of clothes. You slumped into the armchair next to Wanda, refusing to look at Peter.

“Baby, I’m sorry!” Peter whined, trying to kiss you. But you turned your face away, rolling your eyes when Peter threw a sock in your face.

“I told you, I fold the laundry because you can’t do it right! What sort of heathen folds shirts in half?!” You snapped, throwing the sock back at him. Peter frowned as you got up and walked past him to the kitchen. Wanda and Thor watched as Peter ran after you, not sure if they should intervene or not.

“Well, you can’t load the dishwasher right!” Peter countered, making you storm past him.

“No, YOU can’t load it right! Nobody puts plates on the top rack!” You yelled, picking up the laundry basket and giving Wanda an annoyed look. She gave you an apologetic smile, and Thor tried not to laugh when Peter tried snatching the basket back.

“Peter, I swear to God I’m going to kill you!” You hissed, and Peter ran for his life with you chasing him with the iron.

One day after work, Pepper swung by the Tower to pick up some mail for Clint. She let herself in, thinking no one was at home since it was deadly silent. Pepper almost had a heart attack when she realized halfway across the room sat you and Peter, completely silent.

You were reading, the only sound coming from you was the turn of a page. Your legs were draped over Peter, who had fallen asleep hours ago. His head was on your shoulder, little snores escaping his mouth as he slept. You had a hand in his hair, running your fingers through his curls. It was so domestic, anyone else would have thought you’d been married for years.

Pepper could hardly get out of the Tower fast enough.

At this point, all of the Avengers had seen you and Peter act like an old married couple together. It was just an unspoken thing between them, that you two were just sickening together. Nobody was going to say anything about it, who wanted to have that conversation? And as long as you both were happy, Tony didn’t want the topic broached.

Until Carol accidentally mentioned it during dinner.

“Hey Pete, can you pass me the water please?” she asked, gesturing to the jug next to Peter. Peter nodded, but at the same time you went to pass it to her too. Your hands met, and Peter chuckled as you blushed from the contact. All the Avengers looked at each other, everyone thinking the same thing.

“Gosh, you two. Just like an old married couple.” Carol laughed, taking the water from Peter. For a moment, everyone was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Peter turned bright red and you buried your face in your hands. Carol groaned, realizing the cat was out of the bag.

“Carol! We weren’t going to say anything!” Bucky whispered, watching as Tony tried to keep eating. Peter was holding your hand under the table, and you were so embarrassed. How long had they been talking about this?

“Sorry, it just came out.” She whispered back, avoiding Wanda who was biting her lip trying not to laugh. Suddenly, Thor burst out laughing at the end of the table, hitting it with his fist. He very nearly fell out of his chair, clutching his stomach. That was all it took, the rest fell like dominoes. Pretty soon Bucky, Wanda, Steve, Sam, Clint, Nat, Bruce, and Pepper were laughing so hard they were crying. Tony managed to keep it together, but he was on the verge of breaking too.

“Oh, come on! All of you?” Peter moaned, wanting to disappear into thin air. Sure, he knew you two were super domestic and cute, but the whole “old married couple” thing seemed a bit much. You couldn’t stop blushing, hoping that they weren’t going to make this into a big deal.

“It’s just you and Y/N are so comfortable around each other, you act like an old married couple.” Tony said, patting Peter’s back. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s just different. You’re old souls, that’s all.”

“Please, can we never mention this again?” You squeaked, frowning when Wanda made a heart with her hands. Sam followed suit, until the entire table was doing it. “Stop, this is so embarrassing!”

“Personally, I think it’s adorable. It’s like a little snapshot of what you and Peter will look like in fifty years.” Pepper said, kissing Tony’s cheek. You sighed, realizing that this was not going to be forgotten anytime soon. The rest of the table nodded, giving you both knowing smiles.

“Yeah, when the little Parkers show up it’ll be just like this.” Steve said, passing Clint the salt. You went so red, you thought you were turning into a tomato. Peter coughed violently, nearly choking on his food until you rubbed his back.

“Alright, that’s enough. We’re done talking about this.” He said, shooting everyone death glares. That shut them up, and pretty soon everyone was back to normal. Wanda was arguing with Sam over sports, and Steve was giving Nat dating advice. Once the attention was off the two of you, Peter leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You know, I like being an old married couple. It makes me excited for the real thing.” He whispered, and you couldn’t help but smile at his words. Peter was definitely the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, he was your soulmate. And no matter what, you wanted to grow old together

Even if he couldn’t load a dishwasher right.

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[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Lollipop

Summary: You live next door to your best friend, Park Jimin, notorious fuckboy, but he suddenly starts to woo you and you have no idea how to handle it.

Warnings: just fluff, some jealousy, mentions of fuckboy!Jimin’s shenanigans, this is a first part of 3-5 parts

Word Count: 1083

It's 2am and the walls of your college apartment are thin.

You're pulling an all nighter to finish your thesis outline, so you're not sleeping anyway, but your nerves are on edge.

What on earth possessed you to stay in the same apartment complex as your high school best friend?

You can almost hear what he would reply if you said that: "Because you love me, lollipop."

And he'd be right. You do love him and you're a fucking idiot because you'd Park Jimin since middle school and he'd never taken a girl on a single date.

It isn't as if you hadn't thought about it, giving in to his flirting and teasing, just to see what all the fuss is about...but you can't.

You know yourself, and you know what you want, and it isn't to be another notch on Jimin's bedpost.

You huff out a breath and lean over to bang on the wall.

"Jimin, fucking FINISH her I'm trying to work!"

You hear his throaty laugh through the wall.

"Sorry, lollipop," he calls.

"Who is-OH FUCK!"

You wait patiently for the series of moans and calling to Jesus to stop, ignoring the pull in your stomach at his long, dramatic moan he lets out, and then, finally, it's quiet.

You sigh in relief and go back to your work. It's barely half an hour before Jimin is knocking "shave and a haircut" on your door.

You groan and go to the door.

"Park Jimin, I swear to God if you ask me for condoms again-"

He has the good grace to look away, cheeks turnings pink. "That was only like five times." 

He holds out a bag of Chinese takeout.

"I got too much food. Consider it a peace offering."

You snatch the bag and start to close the door, and he gives you a big pout.

You sigh. "Don't you have company?'

He grins and slips past you into your apartment. "Don't worry. I fucked her to sleep."

You wrinkle your nose. "You're so gross. Did you even shower?"

Jimin rushes you, grabbing you around the waist as you yelp.

"I showered, see? Smell me." He presses your face to his chest.

"Why are you like this?" You mumble.

"Don't I smell nice?"

He does. He smells like soap and roses and whatever fuckboy cologne he's wearing this week.

You wiggle in his arms and he lets you go, taking the food and going to set the table like he owns the place.

And well technically, he does. He'd bought the two apartments you lived in with his inheritance, and you kept trying to pay him rent, but he wouldn't take it.

"My grandma would want you to be my neighbor. Keep me out of trouble."

That was certainly a tall order, but you'd done your best.

You're sitting at your table with a mouthful of lo mein when he asks, "So when are you gonna let me fuck you to sleep?"

You choke on your noodles and take a sip of water.

"I'd have to make an appointment a month in advance, you stay pretty booked up."

"I'll cancel all my appointments for you, lollipop."

He's leaning toward you, grinning, and you push at his shoulder.

"Well, as much as I appreciate this much needed break, I have to finish my thesis outline in..." You look at your phone. "Five hours."

"But lollipop," he whines, "I haven't seen you all week. You canceled movie night."

"Maybe I had a date," you tease, taking one final bite of noodles and then packing up the food.

You don't notive how still and quiet Jimin has gone until you put the food in the fridge and walk back in to see him frowning, shoulders stiff against the back of the chair.

"You don't go on dates," he says quietly.

You scoff. "Just because I haven't gone on a date doesn't mean I never will or that I never want to."

"I asked you on a date. I asked you on a date and you said dates were stupid." His voice is soft, almost hurt.

"What are you talking about?"

Jimin stands up, running his hands through his hair. "Junior year. That carnivals was in town and I asked you to go with me, on a date."

You vaguely remembered that, but of course it was just some flippant thing Jimin had said so you could be his wingwoman....right?

"Didn't you fingerbang Sooyoung on the ferris wheel at that carnival?"

"Probably! But that's not the point! Since when do you like dates? Since when do you go on dates? And with who?"

You know he's just being friend jealous because you've been so busy with your thesis you haven't had time to hang out with him, but you can't deny you're enjoying it, just a little.

"None of your business, nosey!"

Jimin huffs. "You're my best friend. You're supposed to tell me everything."

"Just because you share all the dirty details of your sex life doesn't mean I do."

Jimin flinches as if you'd hit him.

"You're.... you're fucking someone?"

"Maybe," you say coyly, and slip past him into the kitchen to load the dishwasher.

You don't make it that far, though, he backs you into the refrigerator, boxing you in with his body, palms on either side of your head.

"Please tell me you aren't fucking someone," he says, his tone low and warning.

You can't help but laugh a little. He looks so serious, as if he wasn't balls deep in some coed less than an hour ago.

"What, are you mad I'm not fucking you?"

"I've been mad you aren't fucking me for like, 8 years now, lollipop," he says softly, twisting a strand of your hair between his fingers.

He's looking down at your mouth and your throat is suddenly dry.

"Sucks to be you. Listen, I really have to finish this, Jiminie, but I promise we'll have best friend time soon. No need to be salty."

He frowns, throat working, and then kisses your forehead before backing away.

"Okay. I'll go. Just one more question. Do you still think flowers are dumb or...."

You laugh a little. "Every girl likes flowers, Jimin."

He smiles then. "Noted."

Jimin leaves without any further protest, and you go back to your work.

When you return from class the next day, there's two dozen roses on your dining room table, and a note: You owe me a date. - Jimin

[strawberrymeriadoc]

Just a little drabble. Merry’s feeling sick and explores his feelings for Pippin a bit. 

Merry’s hands were shaking. He wasn’t sure if it comforted him or annoyed him that Peony was just asleep on the kitchen counter like he wasn’t having (what felt like) the biggest crisis of his life. Merry took some medicine to calm down. He reasoned that the throat tightness and pain might have as much to do with anxiety as anything else. 

If Merry could do this night over again he probably would have gone to the house of healing over two hours ago when it first started. But he didn’t want to go. He was terrified of doctors and waiting rooms and being called by his deadname and having to try to back pass. Hopefully it just gets better with time, he thought for the tenth time that night. Merry hadn’t bothered Pippin with this nightmare of a situation. He has his own shit to deal with and he would think I was strange to bring this up so suddenly, Merry reasoned. Merry vowed to call his doctor first thing the next day. 

Merry tried to calm down but he didn’t know how to be calm. He hadn’t been allowed to growing up. One time in college when he was home for break, he went to take a nap and as soon as he lay down he got in trouble with his mother, for even considering such a thing. Sometimes Merry would read while he ate, but as soon as he was done eating he was told he wasn’t allowed to read anymore. And many times he wasn’t allowed to eat to begin with. Merry’s mother took it as a personal insult if Merry wanted more than his allotted 2 meals a day. And she would yell at him and shame him if he ate anywhere near her because she hated the sound. 

Even Jamie had a similar issue. He didn’t begrudge her sensory issues around his eating some foods, but she didn’t have to be so mean about it. He would sometimes be forced to eat in the hallway outside his apartment. As a result, Merry was probably the quietest eater in all of the Westlands though he felt like the loudest. 

Merry shook himself out of his thoughts. He really wanted to say goodnight to his friend. But he realized with his pain he couldn’t talk. But still he came out of his room and knocked on Pippin’s door. “Come in,” Pippin called. Merry smiled and waved and showed him the message he had written on his phone: 

“I can’t talk because im having a terrible flare up in my throat. Im having a really rough night, could i just sit with you?”

 “Sure,” Pippin responded aloud. Merry had planned to sit on the floor, but Pippin motioned for Merry to sit next to him on the bed. Merry felt a small flash of warmth and love.  He sat down next to his friend and hesitantly leaned against Pippin’s shoulder. Pippin leaned into him in response. 

Merry felt a desire to rest his head on Pippin’s shoulder but he restrained himself. He didn’t think Pippin would approve and Merry couldn’t really talk in order to ask. But maybe I could write another message? No, I’m being weird again, he chastened himself. However, before he could stop himself he wrote: “Could i rest my head on your shoulder?”, sat for a minute worrying about it, and then showed it to his friend. “Uh, yeah” Pippin said. 

Merry just felt at home with Pippin. He didn’t want to have sex with him, he wasn’t really sure that romance existed in any way that mattered to him. But he wanted to cuddle Pippin and be close to him and hold his hand. He wanted Pippin to know he cared about him very much. He didn’t know if that still counted as platonic or if it was its own separate thing. Merry had heard of sensual attraction as well as alterous attraction. And something called queerplatonic. Perhaps he was feeling some combination of these things. 

Merry leaned his head on Pippin’s left shoulder. He felt a little awkward at first and worried he was making Pippin uncomfortable. But then Pippin leaned his head on Merry’s and the two sat there in silence not doing anything for a while. Then Peony jumped up on Pippin and they both laughed quietly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry woke up to the sun shining through his window. The yellow light burst through in beams that turned the sheets and the wall behind the bed bright white. Merry could hear a few birds chirping.It was around eleven o’clock. Pippin was still asleep on the couch in the living room. His chest rose and fell with his breathing as he dreamed peacefully. Peony was lying in the sun in Pippin’s bedroom. At least someone was making good use of the room.

Outside, Minas Tirith was brimming with life. Merry’s favorite flower shop had been open a few hours and was filled with customers. Its purple and green awning swayed in the breeze. Men of Gondor and Rohan and the occasional dwarf were also streaming in to Pippin’s favorite cafe to try all the different teas and have the bacon and waffles which were especially sought after around brunch time. The occasional student or professor could be seen crossing the campus grounds mainly grad students going to their lab or to the library to work.

Merry sat up in the bed, but he realized he felt rather faint. His throat still hurt tremendously. Let me just try drinking some water, he thought, reaching for the glass by his bed. Merry was starving and he remembered that he hadn’t been able to eat dinner last night because of the pain. Merry was truly sick of all this. He grabbed one of his books that Professor Borormir had assigned and decided to move to the couch in the living room. 

He still wasn’t quite awake but he was certainly not going to chance how his throat might react to coffee. He started reading the book as he was walking--he couldn’t wait to dig in from where he had left off. He went down the hallway, across the living room, turned around, and plopped right on to the couch. Now, Merry was expecting the couch to be somewhat firm, but the couch was actually lumpy and hard in some places and squishy and soft in others. Merry let out a yelp and just as he leapt up, the couch shouted “hurrmmppphhh! geeerraaaa!” Merry was even more mortified than he was startled. 

“Sorry! Sorry, Pippin!” 

“Eru, what was that for?” 

“I didn’t see you!” 

“Didn’t see me? I’m right here!” 

“I know I just...I was reading while I was walking and I’m half asleep” 

“Huh, well I’m not asleep anymore, that woke me right up.” Pippin crossed his arms and scowled. 

Merry’s face and ears had turned bright red. Pippin had never seen him blush. He wasn’t so much mad as he was surprised but he realized how he had come across. 

“Oh Merry…” then he laughed, “It’s alright, you just startled me is all” Merry relaxed. Pippin thought for a moment and realized he was hungry for breakfast.

 “Alright, I’m making omelets, want one?” Pippin asked, whisking off into the kitchen. “Thank you. I wish! But I can’t eat,” Merry said sadly. Pippin stopped what he was doing and turned around. “What do you mean you can’t eat?” he demanded. Pippin was used to his friend struggling with food but this had gone too far for his liking. Then Merry explained more about his throat pain that had flared up the night before and how he had attempted to eat a small dinner and that had tremendously backfired. “I just need to wait it out until I can go to the doctor tomorrow afternoon,” he finished. 

“I could help you with that if you like!” Pippin offered. Merry didn’t know how to respond. People didn’t really tend to offer to help him. He felt thankful but a bit ashamed, after all, he didn’t want to trouble Pippin. But right now he needed to say something that adequately showed he appreciated the thought even if he didn’t know how to take him up on it. 

“Thanks!” he started, “I...uh...just knowing that you’re there for me really helps”. 

“Why don’t I make you some soup, you should be able to manage that at least” Merry wasn’t so confident, but he was too famished to care. 

“That would be lovely,” Merry replied. 

Pippin had noticed that “lovely” was the highest form of praise Merry would give anything. He would use “good”, “great” or even “amazing” and “fantastic”. But none of them meant so much as “lovely”.  

After he ate the soup, Merry distracted himself from the pain by running a load of laundry and starting the dishwasher. It also seemed to help his throat to stand up. Then the hobbit went out and stood on the balcony for a while. 

The street below was fairly busy. Most people were walking, but a few rode bikes and even fewer rode horses. Then Merry saw coming over the rise a small company of Men on horseback. All the horses were black and the man at the forefront carried a rounded shield. Merry guessed they were Men returning from their shift on patrol on the outskirts of Gondor along the Anduin.

Merry thought about his horse Sorin. Well, not his horse. He supposed they were all Theoden’s. But the one that he rode every week. The hobbit hoped that he would be able to go riding in a few days and that things would clear up. 

But, Merry began to feel very hopeless indeed and thought about how much easier things would be if he just ended it all. A much smaller voice in his mind pushed back: It’s just a passing thing. You’ll feel better soon. You don’t want to make a decision that you can’t unmake! Besides, there is good in this world. There is. It’s worth fighting to stay alive for. 

But Merry thought about what was really in his life and he didn’t see anything good, certainly nothing that convinced him. He felt truly hopeless. But once back inside, he felt a change. Something about the laundry machine and the dishwasher running quietly in the kitchen calmed him. There’s something good, he mused. 

Pippin was still a little flustered from being sat on and then hearing about his friend’s sickness. He had made an omelet with cheese and red peppers in it and enjoyed a cup of green tea and now he was deciding what to wear for the day. He rummaged around in his closet and eventually settled on a white button down shirt with red pants. 

This needs a belt, Pippin thought, grabbing a light brown one with an ornate silver buckle. Pippin didn’t have anything to do until his lab started after around dinnertime. I’ve got to get out of here, he thought, maybe there’s a museum or a bookshop I can go to? I wish Frodo and Sam were here, we could all go together. Pippin didn’t want to go alone, but he guessed that Merry would be too sick to go with him. That’s right, he thought, kicking himself, I said that I’d help him. 

Pippin was still deciding what to do exactly when he went back into the living room. “You wouldn’t want to go somewhere, would you?” Pippin asked hopefully. Merry, who had been dissociating while standing at the kitchen counter, started. “Aah--what?” he centered himself, “I don’t know. Like where were you thinking?” “Oh I don’t know. Maybe the new bookshop next to campus? It looked pretty cool when I walked by”

Merry frowned. “I’m not sure I can afford any books right now.”

“Hmm, well it’s a second-hand bookshop, so it should be better anyway”

Merry perked up. “Oh I love used bookstores. They always have the weirdest stuff. I like to look at the really obscure books that you kind of can’t believe would ever need to be written or read.”

“Excellent! Well let’s go shall we?”

After Merry quickly got dressed, he said goodbye to Peony and joined his friend by the door. Stepping out into the crisp Autumn air, the two linked arms and walked up the winding side street lined with orange-leaved Plane trees. 

[theunfinishedsong-nct]

Chapter 2

Friday, 9:16 PM

Ten minutes have already passed since we finished the last docket of orders, which means the next and hopefully final wave of dine-in guests will begin shortly. I have just finished cleaning up my station – I have removed the scattered bread crumbs and lettuce trimmings from the counter tops; I have washed my two chopping boards (white for breads, green for fruits and veggies), three different knives, and the insert tray for our toaster, among others. I have also washed my kitchen towels with laundry detergent. It’s a good thing I was able to finish my tasks quickly, since there are four other cooks who need to share the two kitchen sinks among them. We could also ask our dishwasher, Taemin hyung, to let us use the dishwashing machine. But when he’s too busy and loaded, we could just easily wash our stuff manually.

I took a moment to shake the stuck bread crumbs off my all-black chef’s uniform and apron, until I realized I haven’t drunk any amount of water in almost an hour, so I hurriedly grabbed my half-liter, violet water bottle from a shelf near the kitchen door as I went straight outside.

The relaxing aroma of freshly ground coffee beans being brewed by the barista-on-duty grew prevalent as I stepped closer to the bar area, which is also part of the main dining area. Only a wide, L-shaped counter serves as its “barricade” or “divider”. From here, I can see that most of the guests are still busy finishing their meals, while about ten people were still seated at the waiting area near the café entrance.

I took the aluminum ice scooper from a small, transparent plastic bucket beside the coffee machine, and then I bent over to the ice bin below. I poured a scoopful of ice into my wide-rimmed bottle, then I grabbed a pitcher of water to fill it almost up to the rim.

I could no longer wait to refresh my tired self, so I stood right on the spot, leaned my head backwards, closed my eyes, and gulped down a satisfying amount of my cold thirst quencher.

And as I opened my eyes, I was taken aback by what I just saw right before me.

I’ve never seen this one before, but he was definitely a sight to behold.

Damn, he is so good-looking.

My whole head was practically empty except for those few words. I found myself running out of better words to describe him as I felt my feet become frozen on the floor. For a moment, the whole environment basically became a grayish blur.

He stood about a meter away from me as he swiftly grabbed a couple of menus from the menu basket on the countertop. It took a while before it finally dawned on me that he is, in fact, an employee here. He then went towards the entrance and handed the menus over to the waiting guests.

His rich, dark hair was sleekly styled – it was brushed away from his forehead, save for a single lock hanging perfectly still right above his left eyebrow; his eyebrows looked rich as well. The apples of his cheeks were rosy pink even if he wasn’t wearing any hint of makeup… Except maybe for his glistening lips, which seemed like they had a very subtle tint of peachy-pink; I figured he must have used lip balm on them,  since they looked so… Juicy and delightful.

Who knows what flavor he used? Cherry? Strawberry? Of course, I am interested.

I noticed he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves folded up to his forearms near the elbows – the color white being an indication that he is only a trainee. Regular dining employees wear light blue.

He had a name tag on, but he left too quickly before I got to even have a glimpse of what’s on it.

And now there’s my excuse to “ask” the others about him.

I held a sneaky smirk on my face as I walked away from the bar area. I headed back to the kitchen until I suddenly got stopped –

“Taeyong-ah! Can you grab a bunch of teaspoons for me, please?” Kyungsoo hyung called directly from the dispatch window. He needed to use the teaspoons as tasting spoons.

“Noted, hyung.”

This area right outside the kitchen – where Kyungsoo hyung can directly look out into – is the dining dispatch area. It connects the kitchen to the main dining area and bar area, but the guests do not get to have a peek into this area, since it is hidden by a wall. However, there are no doors here, just an opening, because it was made to be easily accessed by the dining staff – the bussing area, cutlery drawers, and condiment shelves are all here, and the office is in here as well.

I checked the cutlery drawers below the dispatch window – they are almost empty, save for some bread knives and appetizer spreaders.

The dining staff can also use this area to wipe cutleries that come fresh and hot from the dishwashing machine. They have to be wiped one by one with a clean towel to make sure they’re all free from any possible remaining food particles. When they do this, they use this gray, multi-compartment cutlery tray to organize the cutleries per type. Since it is portable, it does not have a permanent placement, so it could be here; it could also be in the bar area.

I turned around as I scanned the area to look for that cutlery tray.

It was not on top of the ice chest freezer.

It was nowhere to be found near the bussing area.

It was not even there on the counter top by the dispatch window.

So maybe it’s in the bar area. I’ll just go there, no problem.

Just when I was about to approach the opening going to the bar area, the guy from a while ago suddenly walked straight towards the chest freezer, just right past me. He didn’t notice me at all. He seemed so busy… Well, of course he is.

He was carrying the cutlery tray.

He placed it on top of the chest freezer, and then he turned towards the bussing area.

“Excuse me, hyung… Do you still have more cutleries there?” He shyly asked Taemin hyung.

I peeked into the cutlery tray – there are several teaspoons in there… Just what I needed.

I started debating with myself – should I sneakily grab the teaspoons then run back into the kitchen?

I’m too scared and nervous to interact with him for now. What if he notices me?

Or should I stand with pride, walk with my chin up, and just confidently take the teaspoons? I am a senior employee here, after all.

Taemin hyung took out a large stainless mixing bowl and placed it onto the surface of the bussing window.

The guy raised both his arms to take the bowl – they seemed heavy because it was full of cutleries. He then bowed towards Taemin hyung and thanked him softly.

I instantly noticed how a few veins suddenly appeared on his forearms as he flexed them to carry the large bowl… And that’s not it.

Even his biceps peeked a bit through the sleeves of his white shirt.

I snapped out as I finally decided to run towards the cutlery tray to grab the teaspoons like they were some kind of a hidden treasure.

Of course, he was already on his way to this spot. But it will take him about ten steps, and I thought the weight of the bowl would slow him down just a bit.

And maybe it did.

I did not just run back – I sprinted back into the kitchen. The teaspoons are still complete in my clenched left hand, while some droplets of water from my cold bottle seeped through the fingers on my right hand.

I peeked into the small window of the kitchen door - he has already placed the large bowl beside the cutlery tray. I hope he didn’t notice me.

With a heavy sigh, I felt relieved that no one noticed what I just did. I’m almost breathless right now. It was such a simple task, yet I made it unnecessarily complicated.

I returned my water bottle back to its respective spot on the shelf. I proceeded to walk towards Kyungsoo hyung, and I dropped the handful of teaspoons into the clean 1/9 insert pan in front of him. I then took a deep breath…

"The new guy, hyung... Who is he?" I asked Kyungsoo hyung.

He made some kind of an evil smirk on his face. He gave me a quick glare, then he leaned his head towards the dispatch window.

"Jaehyun-ah! Come here!”

The guy didn’t even hesitate to pause his task for this moment – he immediately went to the front of the dispatch window.

“You haven't been introduced to each other, right? You haven't met him, right?”

I wanted to grab Kyungsoo hyung by the arm, and drag him away from here. Now.

“Jeong Jaehyun, meet one of our senior chefs, Lee Taeyong!"

Wait.

What?

Whoa.

That was too fast.

Fast yet smooth.

The guy bowed down, then he stretched his right hand out to me while leaning close to the dispatch window.

"Ugh, wait. This is embarrassing. My hand is still wet." I hurriedly pulled a sheet of paper towel from the nearby dispenser. Both of my hands are now shaking subtly as I wiped my right hand. I must have certainly looked stupid.

I then bowed back, grabbed his hand and gave him an awkward handshake.

"Hi, I'm Taeyong. Nice to meet you... Jaehyun?" I said to him as I flashed an even more awkward smile.

"Nice one, hyung..." I thought.

"Hey, someone's got really soft hands," he looked at Kyungsoo hyung and my other co-workers with his sparkly eyes. I almost didn’t notice that we’re being watched by my colleagues, almost like a K-drama scene unfolding before their eyes.

This dude has the audacity to show off his annoyingly adorable smile on his face. He even has not one, but TWO dimples, streaming down on both his cheeks. And he’s totally flexing them at me right now. He's just really cool about our meeting, and I’ve never felt this dumb before.

And it’s been eight seconds – we still haven’t let go of each other. Eight. Freaking. Long. Seconds.

He’s not letting go of my hand, and I’m not letting go of his. Who is gonna be the one?

I was left frozen, staring blankly at Kyungsoo hyung.

Then I finally thought it was time to let go before my face turns into a tomato.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around," I said, as if I was too busy. Well, I was not too busy, but I know he definitely is. We haven’t received any new orders in the kitchen, so I’m still good for a while.

“Alright, see you later,” he replied; he was still showing off his dimples. He then turned towards Kyungsoo hyung – “please excuse me, sunbaenim. I have to go back outside,” and bowed yet again.

Kyungsoo hyung fixed his eyes on me, and gave me that evil look again. I pouted at him as I showed my sad puppy eyes.

"Hyung, I feel so embarrassed," I whispered, but he just deliberately ignored me.

Jaehyun was not yet out of our sight when my mischievous hyung loudly blurted out something that made me want to completely disappear from this planet right now.

"Ah, Taeyong likes Jaehyun!"  

[dat-fandom-losertown]

Cat Out of the Bag

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Chapter 2: Intruder

•◊•◊•◊•◊• 

Neko!Hank Anderson x Connor

Genre: Angst and FLuff

Warnings: House intruder, Violence, Guns (it’s a BB and police gun, but stay safe!), Plenty of swearing, Disassociation based on my own experiences with it, a mention of past drugging

Word Count: 8,385

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Two omelettes, a cup of tea, a mug of coffee, and several strips of bacon later, Connor has grown used to Hank’s presence. When the creator placed his mug and plate in front of him, the nekojin thanked him and apologized for earlier that morning again and that was that. Hank even brought his dishes to the sink and rinsed them off, which is more than he expects (and often times gets) from his friends, let alone a complete stranger that’s skeptical of him and this environment.

    Hank excuses himself to go check on his stitches and add more layers to the bandages that bled through, because apparently removing the reddened bandages on a deeper wound has a high chance of ruining any clotting or scabbing under and is counterproductive to the wrapping’s purpose. He doesn’t question or say anything when Hank unsubtly searches down the short hall to the master bedroom on his way to the guest room. He almost admits to doing the same thing during his first couple of weeks in the new apartment, but decides against it.

    Connor finishes loading the dishwasher and runs it, then paces around the living room for a while. He eventually finds himself back at his makeshift set up at the coffee table before Hank comes back out of the closed room. He understands well that the older man just needs some time to cool down and clear his head before coming up with the next step. Until he hears the squeak and grinding of that room’s window opening, he’ll leave him be.

    Two and a half hours have passed since Hank retired to the guest room when he finally walks back out. Although, it is clear that he’s not pleased in having to. Connor carefully keeps his eyes on his painting while simultaneously watching the nekojin. He finally looks up when the other silently stops in front of him on the other side of the short table.

    “I need your help, if you’re actually wanting to help an old bastard like me for free. And no funny business. Got it?”

    Connor replies as calmly as possible, “Wouldn’t dream of it. What do you need help with?”

    Hank hesitates, “I need you to take this–” he drops a disinfectant wipe next to the painting, “–and I need you to wash between my shoulder blades. I can’t quite reach.”

    He can see Hank’s awkwardness and embarrassment over having to ask for help, so Connor pointedly doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

    “Can do.”

    Connor immediately understands why Hank resorted to asking him for help. Right where he can’t reach is a sticky residue left from the patch placed there to protect the small set of stitches there. Connor quickly wipes what he can while trying to avoid directly touching him with his hand by accident, not knowing how the older man would react. It doesn’t take any more than a minute, then Hank nods his silent thanks and retreats back to his assigned room again. Connor sits back down and adds the finishing details to his art piece.

    He starts another piece, this one simpler than the last, while the other is drying, and has almost finished it after three hours. Connor finally gathers enough bravery to ask Hank if he’s hungry for lunch and stands, only to be interrupted a soft knocking at his door.

    He isn’t expecting anybody, and the homeless man in his apartment surely isn’t expecting anyone either. Kara has work today, Luther has another client, Simon and Markus are still out of town. Alice and Ralph always call without fail whenever they want to come over because they know it makes him more infinitely more comfortable that way. Connor’s family would never show up unexpectedly, even if it was an emergency. Even then, he is rather low on the “call or show up if there’s an emergency” list. He hasn’t ordered anything, and the delivery man only rings the doorbell… 

    Connor looks through the peephole to find a large man with a beard and greasy hair combed back into a half-assed ponytail. His red, button-up shirt and jeans would probably look nice if they weren’t rumpled like he hasn’t changed in a day or two. His smile screams ingenuine and impatient, even if it would have looked polite enough to anyone not paying close attention, and his eyes aren’t much better. The makeup he’s wearing under his eyes don’t match his skin tone quite right, so it’s blatantly obvious that he’s trying to cover dark eye bags, and that only makes his appearance worse than if he just left them be.

    All in all, Connor immediately dislikes the guy and wants nothing to do with him.

    Connor relents, though, and cracks the door open just wide enough to fit his head through when he knocks again.

    “Hello. Can I help you?”

    The man’s smile widens, still as plastic as before. “Ah, I’m hoping you can. Have you seen an old neko anywhere? I’ve just been asking around to see if anyone happened to see him. I’m very worried because he isn’t very… personable, and someone could report him as feral instead of owned.”

    Yup. Connor hates him.

    “Uh, no, sorry. I haven’t seen him. Is there a number I can call if I–”

    “And you’re positive that you haven’t seen him? No sign of him at all?” The man leans in and Connor quickly tucks his head in and closes the door a little more.

    “I have no reason to lie.” Connor lies.

    The plastic smile on the mans face drops into a scowl.

    “I think you do.”

    Connor slams the door shut, but it’s stopped just before it has the chance to click. In a panic, he tries shoving it that little bit left, but instead he gets knocked down to the ground when the door rams into him instead. Connor has just enough time to glance up at the man, then roll out of the way before a boot lands right where his diaphragm used to be. He fights his instincts to freeze and scrambles to his feet and hurdles over his couch with his attacker speed walking around it to get him, obviously saving his energy for a bigger fight.

    Saving his energy for taking down Hank.

    Connor may have a (probably) minor case of PTSD and general anxiety, but half of his family is either in the military, police force, or has general training in whatever fighting style they chose. He even got an odd year or two of self-defense and gun training under his own belt before he was pulled out altogether when he admitted he wanted to go down a completely different career path. Connor may be almost completely useless in conflict, but it takes a lot to finally get him down for good, thanks to years of training and bullying.

    It’s always made him the perfect distraction– the perfect staller.

    Connor hastily reaches under the couch where he remembers stashing a fully loaded BB gun (courtesy of his brother from back in high school) under the fabric covering. He gets a good hold of it when he’s suddenly yanked upright by his collar, which temporarily chokes him. The click of Connor cocking his gun interrupts whatever the disgusting man was going to say with the breath he took, and the author fights every part of his anxious self and squeezes the trigger while aiming in the other man’s direction.

    With a loud pop and a grunt of pain, the stranger releases Connor in order to hold his thigh. Connor tumbles to the ground, trying to catch his breath. He cocks the old BB gun again and aims up at the man’s torso. The jeans the attacker is wearing stopped the BB from breaking any skin, but there will be one hell of a bruise– Connor knows because he’s been on the receiving end of this thing once or twice before. It’s also because of his brief work as target practice he knows that a shot to the chest will hurt even more.

    The man lets out a shout for that. Connor distantly worries about noise complaints, then scolds himself because he is in the middle of being attacked, he doesn’t have time to sit and worry about if his neighbors can hear him. If he starts worrying about things that aren’t immediately taking place in front of him, he’ll disassociate, and that’s the worst possible thing that could happen in a fight. He knows this from experience as well.

    The man grunts as he tries to stand at his full height, and for some reason his mind jumps to when his brother, Ritch, stood almost the same way, but between Connor and three dudes. Ritch is an officer or detective or something in the police force, but that doesn’t matter right now. He’s not here and Connor can’t lose his delicate focus. Actually, he should probably call the police, but the fact of the matter is that he just doesn’t have the time to rattle off his address to the emergency operators at the moment.

    Stop it. Focus on the here and now. Focus on how this stranger looks like he’s about to step over and murder you. Murder you.

    Wait. Didn’t Ritch transfer closer to a department around here recently? They both know where the other lives, and if he did transfer, all Connor would need to do is call and he’d be able to leave no problem, right? No response would be more worrying than trying to rush out information in the two-second slot he has open now. The real question is, could Ritch get here in time before this psycho mauls him to death?

    Well, there’s only one way to find out.

    Connor lunges for his phone, which is innocently laying on the coffee table next to his drying paintings. He instantly has his phone calling his brother’s number (thank god he finally decided to put Ritch on speed dial two weeks ago) and he picks up before the first ring can end. He isn’t busy then, which is good because grubby just took his first step with his bad leg and Connor can’t cock the gun with one hand. Although, he isn’t sure if he could with two hands because they’re shaking so badly at this point. He’s officially useless.

    “Connor?” his voice is urgent, which snaps him out of it. “Why are you–”

    “You transferred closer to my area, right?” He notes that his voice is probably too neutral to be considered healthy in this situation. It probably has to do with how he feels himself slipping, how everything else is slowly becoming farther away and less focused.

    He forces himself to stand up and quickly back away from wannabe hulk. The wannabe hulk retaliates by quickly gaining on him.

    “I’m actually stationed in your area now.” There’s a quick shuffling on the other end. “Connor, what’s–”

    He doesn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence because he’s suddenly barreled into and forced to the ground. Before Connor has the chance to react, his BB gun is wrenched out of his hand and he sees the other hand reaching for his phone next. Reacting on pure instinct, the phone is chucked across the room towards the carpeted area near the hallway before the intruder gets a hold of it. 

    “You mother fucker.” He aims the stolen gun at Connor’s throat. That could probably kill him in minutes if he decides to shoot in just the right place, which doesn’t help Connor’s panic in the slightest. “Alright. Who the fuck d’you call, and where the fuck is he?”

    Connor tries to swallow unsuccessfully.

    “I–I’m al–lone.” he grits out.

    “Oh? You sure about that, little guy?”

    Connor clenches his jaw. His limbs are starting to feel numb. Damn it, useless again. 

    “Fine then. But I can’t have you getting in the way while I go find him myself. You’ve proven to be a pain in the ass.” He puts his finger on the trigger and with another pop of the gun–

    –the man’s tackled onto the couch.

    That’s just about all Connor can process in this moment, along with the fact that the BB pellet just to the left of his neck and there’s yelling and snarling coming from somewhere. Now is not the time to fully disassociate, but he can hardly control it. His vision is going shady, his limbs feel properly numb but not really numb but mainly numb, and he can feel his brain going a hundred miles a minute trying to catch up on what has happened, is happening, and what might happen all at once, while also moving too slow to even begin computing how limbs or lungs work.

    He doesn’t know how long he’s out for, but the shrill sound of glass shattering brings him back to the real world. It’s only just enough to be mostly in control, but not enough to feel the panic that is no doubt racing through his veins. He gets up into a crouching position, just high enough to see over the couch at the fight between Hank and the intruder. It isn’t looking good, with Hank on the ground groaning in pain and bleeding again while fuck-tard stalks towards him with a thick collar. One of the illegal, electrical kinds, Connor realizes grimly.

    He mutters a curse under his breath and looks to the rest of the room for something to stop him with. He can’t just let Hank get taken or beaten like this, not after he saw how determined the older man was to not be brought back to a place like wherever he came from. The first thing he sees that could be remotely helpful is his art scalpel, normally used for spreading paint across a canvas for certain effects, they can be quite damaging even with their rounded ends.

    With expert form (in which he will proudly admit to practicing throwing these tools into the dirt like throwing the daggers he, and only he, was never allowed to have), he throws the scalpel towards the greasy man, hitting his arm the metal end. It bounces off of his arm and doesn’t do severe damage, with the rounded edges and the glob of dried paint softening the blow, but it does draw blood and it may get infected because of said paint. In the end, it only serves to further anger the large man and cause him to storm towards Connor. Although this reaction isn’t ideal, it also means that Hank is being left alone for the time being. He’s been beaten up enough lately, and Connor still knows how to take a hit or seven.

    Connor waits until the man rounds the couch before scrambling up to launch himself back over the couch and out the front door– since the only other direction he could run in would lead to being trapped deeper in the apartment– but he’s yanked back by his foot just as he jumps. His chest hits the crest rail of the couch and his face hits one of the slats in the back of it, leaving him with a sudden difficulty in breathing and a bleeding nose and mouth. He’s harshly yanked back, which makes his chin knock into the crest rail painfully. Now’s there’s even more blood in his mouth from his newly bitten tongue.

    He forces himself to kick and punch, willing himself to not freeze up, but the man seems to ignore any damage he takes as he forces the artist back down to the floor and pins him there with a strong, constricting hand on his throat. Connor manages to grab another one of his scalpels, a smaller, sharper one this time that’s meant for finer detailing, but doesn’t get much farther thanks to the unexpected, painful grip on his wrist.

    “Don’t you even think about it, punk.” he growls, then twists Connors wrist and arm in a way that forces him to drop his shank with a quiet cry. “I knew you were gonna be a pain in the fucking ass.”

    The man leans over to pick it up, but Connor kicks him hard in the knee first. That earns him a tight hand around the throat. The author begins to kick and thrash wildly, he even tries spitting blood on his eyes, anything to loosen his hold now that every bit of training he had decades ago has vanished from his brain. What ends up successfully freeing him from the intruder’s grasp is a sudden, empty glass bottle to his head, courtesy of Hank.

    “Your fight is with me, Zlatko.” The calico coughs once then spits blood on the back of their opponent’s head. “He ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, so you leave him the fuck alone.”

    Hank lands a kick so hard to their attacker’s– Zlatko, apparently– chest that he ends up completely rolling off of Connor and hitting the couch. The way Hank bends over to hold his knee afterwards shows how much that kick bothered him in return, but the fire scorching in his eyes prove that it was completely worth it. Zlatko shakes his head as if clearing it of something as he makes to stand up. Connor sees this clearly and bends his legs to dropkick the same knee he had just kicked. He misses by a few inches, though, and ends up hitting his shin instead. It still forces the man back down to his knees. Hank looks shocked at Connor’s action, though, if not absolutely ready for round two with this asshole, so he’ll take what he can get.

    He gets up from between the coffee table and couch and dashes to the kitchen, where he vaguely remembers the last BB shot coming from. Connor can hear Hank and Zlatko struggling to get the upper hand by the time he finally gets ahold of the pellet gun. He turns around just in time to see the calico knee the other in the groin, followed immediately by an elbow to Zlatko’s throat. He stumbles away from Hank just far enough that Connor isn’t worried about him catching the weapon by mistake.

    “Hank!”

    He looks over at the rough sound of his name and Connor tosses him the BB gun. He instantly has it pointed at their opponent with a form that gives away that this is far from the first time he’s used a gun. Connor doesn’t know how to feel about that, but there’s far less negative emotions than there normally would be, he notes with surprise.

    “I fuckin’ dare you get back up.” Hank coughs, sounding no better than last time. “Go ahead and see what happens. Go on.”

    Zlatko does get up, and what happens is Hank shoots, but thanks to his injured arm, he only hits the other’s shoulder, which apparently doesn’t do as much damage as it should. Then, before Hank can get his injured arm to cock the old gun properly, Zlatko rushes him and plows him to the ground with a distinct crack.

    Connor has no clue who was injured or what cracked, but he knows he needs to do something now because who knows if or when professional help will arrive. He glances around for something– anything that could help Hank. Connor launches himself towards the knife block next to the fridge and grabs one at random. It’s then that the door crashes open from where it wasn’t closed all the way at some point in time by another man with a gun.

    “Police! Freeze!”

    Ritch.

    Connor sighs deeply in relief, dropping the knife in his hand and sagging to the ground. It’s almost over. Now he just has to make sure Hank is okay and not disconnect from everything just yet. He’s managed to pull himself back twice today, he can do it a third time. Only after he knows Hank is okay and Zlatko is gone for good can he allow himself to go back to his room and have a proper break down behind a locked door. This isn’t anything he hasn’t already done before; planning when and where he can freak out and process things.

    Connor leans over so he can see Hank’s and Zlatko’s reactions to Ritch in his uniform barging in from the safety of behind the kitchen island.

    Hank apparently froze at the sound of Ritch’s voice and dropped the gun like he should have, despite still being on the ground. Zlakto, on the other hand, reaches for the abandoned BB gun instead.

    “I said freeze! Drop the weapon!”

    Zlatko doesn’t listen, and promptly gets shot in the leg. He learns the hard way that real bullets do, in fact, draw blood through denim. Hank slowly stands up with his hands still by his head. Ritch pays no mind to him or the other two officers entering the apartment.

    “Connor!?”

    “Right here.” his voice more a groan than anything else, likely from the choking and blood. “And before you ask, I’m alright for now. Hank’s hurt, though.” He points to where the man in question stands, obviously putting less weight on one leg than the other. He hopes that the crack wasn’t his leg.

    His brother helps stand him up and steady him, “Jesus Connor, you are absolutely not alright! Your mouth is gushing blood and you’re in shock, but once that wears off–”

    Connor cuts him off. “That’s why I said for now. Hank’s injuries are more urgent. This blood is just a bit tongue and busted lip, his are mostly physical.”

    He hears a sigh, followed by a cough. “I’m fine. This ain’t nothin’ I’m not already used to. Just need a bit of patching up.”

    They both turn to where Hank stands as relaxed as he can get, which is still rather tense. Ritch speaks first.

    “I’m gonna have to side with Connor on this one. You aren’t looking too good, either.” He whips his attention back to where Connor’s climbing off the floor. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting away with this– ” he gestures to his face “–either!”

    “Most of this is from a group of assholes last night.” Hank interrupts with a shrug. “Anything that looks bad is probably something that happened last night. Connor’s shit is all today”

    “Hos-pi-tal.” Connor emphasizes each syllable. Something about the way he said it makes Hank freeze.

    “Woah, okay Connor.” Ritch holds his hands out, “You’re forgetting to breathe.”

    Connor didn’t even realize that he ever stopped. He forces a gasp, which triggers something in his mind because he’s suddenly aware of how much he’s shaking and how weak and tired he feels, but also how he feels like he’ll never be able to sleep or sit still again. He takes another deep breath when Ritch looks like he’s about to tell him to do so.

    “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I’ll just need to be alone real soon so I can freak out for a few hours and get it out of my system. I have a system for fight aftermaths.” His laugh sounds ugly from the mixture of rough throat and the distinct lack of any joy in its tone.

    Connor plops down on the stool left at the bar, the other one in pieces on the floor by the shattered glass, which was his small pot of succulents. He may not be reacting as badly as when Hank attacked him this morning, but he has a feeling that’s mainly because he's feeling very real pain right now that is forcing him into “disconnect from everything” mode, rather than “frenzied panic” mode.

    Someone comes in to check on his mouth because it’s still bleeding all over the place. It takes what feels like a few seconds, but Connor realizes that he doesn’t even know the gender of the person who looked over him, despite them giving him orders and him following them. He opens his mouth to take in a large breath of air, but there’s suddenly cotton in his mouth. Like, actual cotton lining his lips and cheeks. Who put that there?

    “Hey, you look confused.” Ritch states.

    { If you can’t read what Connor’s supposed to be saying, I’ve put the normal spelling in the end notes. :) }

    “Ith there goin’ to be a thing herew?” Connor asks with a muffled voice, “Wlike, am I gonna haff to find thumwherew elth to thay-thday– th-th-th– go be at forw a whilew? Whilew you yook for cyues– cwu-cyl-cul–” Connor huffs loudly and shakes his head angrily. Fucking cotton all in his mouth making him sound like those cringey commercials of partial-humans for having a speech impediment.

    Ritch sighs and looks to the front door. “I don’t see why we would need to do an in depth investigation here. There are cameras in the hall, plenty of people who had to’ve heard this go down, and we saw the end of the fight ourselves, along how violent he–” he points to where Zlatko was dragged out of the building earlier “–was being. The only problems we’re gonna have is why you have an unidentified neko at your place.”

    “He wuth hurwt,” Connor slurs immediately, “an’ I coulw’n’ juth yeaf him for the nesh– neksh-nekthdy,” another huff, “ath-hooy to come awownd.”

    Ritch turns to Hank, “Is this true?” At the other’s slow nod, he takes a step to the side so he can address them both with another sigh. “I know how you are with your want of helping people, I’m just not used to you taking real action.” He sighs. There’s a lot of sighing. “So… If you two are both comfortable enough with it, I could put in the statement that you were staying over as a ‘pre-adoption home visit’ so there’s less of a chance of you–” he points at Hank “–being sent away to some shelter. Plus you have a decent explanation of why you were here in the first place.”

    There’s a slight hesitation, but Hank nods slowly anyway, trying to make eye contact with Connor. It doesn’t happen since his eyes don’t leave Ritch’s face.

    “And Thyath-thwl-thwathuko–” Connor gives up with a growl.

    “You tryin’ to say Zlatko?” Hank helpfully carifies.

    Connor nods quickly, “He wath juth one of thowth cway-crraythy foyrmewr own-ewrth we thee on theefee?” The author’s tone caked with displeasure and annoyance. His breathing is starting to go odd again, but nobody seems to have noticed because of the cotton field in his mouth, even as his brother’s head snaps to his direction.

    “Wait. Zlatko? As in, Zlatko Andronikov?”

    Hank’s face scrunches up. “Yea,” he answers cautiously, “You know who he is?”

    Ritch’s eyebrows try to kiss his hairline as he fully turns back to the nekojin. “We’ve only had people trying to track this guy down for months, now.” He shakes his head incredulously, “It’s not my case, but I can’t believe we actually got him. Especially like this. He’s usually much cleaner and precise.”

    “Well,” the older man leans on the counter with a small wince, “He used to be my handler before I took off. I used to be ‘one of his favorites’, as we’d call it, and not many get out of his place alive period, let alone his favorites. I’m just surprised he hadn’t finished me off sooner.” He casts a long glance towards Connor.

    This is no longer a good distraction. He needs to go before everything hits him right here, out in the open.

    “Tho I can thafely yock mythelf inthide my woom and haff a bweak down untily tomowoah afthernoon withouthd being bothe’ed?” God this cotton stuff is annoying, and now he’s just getting drool and blood everywhere again.

    Both people seem taken aback at his blunt honesty, despite the rough delivery. He notes that Hank gets over it real fast and turns his attention back to the police officer/detective/whatever-he-is in a genuine curiosity. It makes sense. He’s likely seen plenty of people that were in the same mental condition as he is now, and plenty more that were in worse states of being; of course he’s going to be more casual about this. Connor will have to thank him later for it if he’s still here.

    Ritch, on the other hand, balks at what Connor just suggested he do. It hits him then that while he was hiding all these weird problems from his parents and peers when growing up, he was also hiding them from his brother without really meaning to as a result. This is probably the first time he’s ever heard or seen Connor in such a state. He almost feels bad that he hasn’t ever told Ritch about this stuff, now. Thankfully, Ritch wisely doesn’t make any comments about it at the moment.

    Connor’s foot starts tapping rapidly.

    “I mean, we could always get other evidence and witnesses, first, so we don’t have to question you today, especially with the gauze in your mouth–”

    “Thank you.” he says genuinely, turning to leave. “Maybe the day afther thomowoah or the day afther tha’. Just no’ thoonerw pwleath.”

    Connor speed walks into his room and locks the door behind him before anyone can respond. He barely gets himself into his official comfy clothes before he completely shuts down and falls on his bed.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Connor doesn’t know when he fell asleep, and if he’s being honest, he wasn’t even aware he woke up again, either, until he’s alert and realizes that he’s been staring at his alarm clock for thirteen minutes now. It makes him question if he ever actually did fall asleep, or if he just disassociated hard enough that his body got the equivalent of rest, and that tricked his brain into making him think he was, at one point, resting.

    He doesn’t know. There’s too much and not enough going on in his head all at once. Maybe this is one of those lucid dreams? He’s had one of those before where he got up and ready for a meeting, only to wake up still in bed. That morning was a trip and a half.

    Connor decides he’s not in a dream as soon as the smell of eggs hits his nose. He can feel his heart quicken, and he has to somehow think through that and the mud that has filled his brain to figure out why. He would say fog like normal people tend to, but fog isn’t thick enough for what his head’s going through right now and Connor is certainly not normal.

    Eggs. Is that sausage, too?

    Fuck, Connor’s hungry. Like, it feels like someone’s using an ice cream scooper and is carving holes into his torso with how his body is cramping and twisting from hunger. Good to know his body can be just as dramatic as Connor can. The question is, though, does he go out and brave whatever Ritch has to say out there with the reward of food, or does he stay here and deal with the hunger until Ritch inevitably goes to lay down. The chance of him going home before Connor is up and about is slim to none, if how protective he used to be of him when they were younger says anything, along with the look on his face when Connor asked if he could break down in peace.

    His stomach settles his dilemma in the form of a sudden cramp. Drama queen. One would think he hasn’t gone a day or two without food before.

    He forces himself up, not appreciating how his head gets light and his vision gets dark when he’s upright. He’s still in his comfy clothes, and absentmindedly runs a hand through his messy hair, which undoubtedly did nothing if it didn’t worsen it. He doesn’t even bother with socks like he normally would when he wants to walk on the cold tiles of the kitchen area. He does, however, grab his comfort animal. It’s a stuffed dolphin he got from Sea World when he was young, and not even Ritch knows he still holds little Crystal for comfort during his bad days. He supposes that changes right now, because he isn’t going anywhere without her.

    It takes almost all of his strength to walk out of his room, but he manages it. He shuffles into the living area and instantly freezes when he catches sight of the figure at the stove. Connor doesn’t move for several minutes, just watching the man navigate his kitchen as if he’s been here for longer than just a day and a half. Or maybe it’s actually been longer now. Connor has no clue; he has no sense of time anymore.

    “Hey Connor. You hungry?” Hank asks, turning to face him.

    Connor nods slowly, gratefully.

    “Well, you’ve been locked in there for just over a day now, so I was gonna make you a small smoothie or something if you weren’t. Wanna take a seat for now while I finish mine up?” he asks kindly.

    Connor nods again, then situates himself on the single stool. He notes that all of the mess in the kitchen has been cleaned up and wonders if that was Ritch’s or Hank’s doing. He turns around to the couches and coffee table, where the only evidence of what happened before that he can see are a few stains on the floor.

    “Ritch insisted on helping clean this place up after they did pictures and shit for the police. He had to go do some stuff, but he should be back later.” Connor nods absently, so Hank continues, turning to him. “Want anything specific?”

    Hank flips his eggs into a sausage, bacon, cheese omelette, then slides it onto his plate. He starts eating it right there at the counter, unbothered by how hot the steaming food must be. Well, if Connor hadn’t had a good meal in days, possibly weeks, he wouldn’t be bothered by his food being a little hot.

    Connor nods and points to the omelette Hank made, and forces his voice to work. “Veggies.”

    “An omelette with vegetables? You want the meat in it too?” Connor shakes his head. “Alright.”

   He’s infinitely thankful that Hank has actual experience with dealing with shit shows similar to Connor. He seems to understand that Connor just doesn’t want to talk or have a conversation. Everything has been straight to the point or has been a yes or now question, perfect for nodding or shaking his head, with the exception of Connor clarifying that he wants veggies in his omelette.

    Hank abandons the two-thirds of his eggs left to go open the fridge. He starts naming each vegetable off one by one, which isn’t all that much to name, and pauses to let Connor nod or shake his head. He sets out a red bell pepper, green pepper, onion, and some asparagus. When Hank asks if that’s it, Connor shakes his head no, and soon Hank has salsa and pepper jack cheese out as well.

    “Alright, I think I got the jist of what you’re wanting. Do you roast the vegetables first?”

    “Why?”

    Hank pauses and crunches his eyebrows together. “Uhh, because some people have a set thing they like and–”

    “Why stay? He’s gone.” Connor clarifies.

    Realization dawns Hank’s features. He pauses in taking a bite of his own meal and turns to face the author. His face seems… open. He’s read about this in books and the few fanfictions he reads, but he never quite understood what that meant. Everyone always has some kind of mask up. No one would be able to survive if they didn’t, especially in recent days. Yet here Hank is, looking simply open. It’s nice, if not extremely confusing.

    “Connor,” he sighs out, “look, I know we got off to a really rough start, but you’re not anything like I thought you would be that first night. You helped me out when I was in a real bad spot, and that meant a lot as soon as I could get my own head to understand that you weren’t gonna do anything to me or force anything on me.

    “So, now I want my turn to show you. Call me selfish, but you’re in a real rough spot right now, and I wanna prove that I can be a decent person when I need to be, when I want to be.” Hank drops his eyes to his sock-covered feet. “I’m sorry for not believing you had no ulterior motives until this huge mess, and I’m sorry that I’m hard to get along with.” Hank looks back up to meet Connor’s eyes.

    “I’m just an old neko that’s seen some shit in his life. And I don’t apologize often– people don’t usually deserve it from me– but I’m also going to apologize for anything I may do in the future, because I don’t know if you remember, but we agreed to play this out like I was some kind of test adoption or whatever, so I’ve gotta stick around for at least another week or two or else it’ll be kinda suspicious. I’m gonna slip up again, without a single doubt, so I’m doing what I can now because now I know you’re just the kind of stupid and crazy to help out a fuck up like me.” He smiles through the last sentence as if he finds it genuinely funny that he sees himself as a fuck up, and that Connor would want to help him.

    Connor doesn’t know what to do with this kind of thing. He doesn’t get reassurance or compliments very often, and gets apologies even less often. He gets constructive criticism and quick, little “sorry”s for bumping into him from his friends all the time, but it’s not the same. It makes him almost uncomfortable hearing an apology for an action that makes perfect sense and was inevitable in hindsight, especially with the new knowledge that apologies are rare from Hank.

    He vaguely remembers agreeing to letting Hank stay under the adoption alibi. He didn’t know it would be for a week minimum, but with how the nekojin is acting about it, he’s not overly worried about it being too stressful. He thinks they can actually move along and coexist fine enough, since Hank seems to want to make this work.

    “I’m just not an asshole.” Connor eventually defects with hunched shoulders and downcasted eyes.

    “ A lot of times, Connor,” his genuine tone forces his eyes up from the counter, “even that’s hard to come by. And sometimes that’s all that’s needed to change lives.” Hank straightens up, turning back to his food and shoveling a large bite into his mouth. “Now then,” he continues, voice slightly muffled with food, “Do you cook the vegetables first?”

    Connor nods his head and silently guides Hank through making a rough version of his Veggie Scramble. After it’s done, he lets the calico have a few bites, and he decides there’s too much “garden” in it for him. That’s alright. The veggie scramble isn’t for everyone, after all.

    After Connor finishes his meal and Hank has some milk (“Don’t fucking tease me for being a cat who likes milk with his breakfast.” “Wasn’t going to.” he says with a smile), the nekojin relocates to the couch, and the artist escapes to his room for another nap with Crystal in his arms. 

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    This time when Connor wakes up, he knows exactly when he fell asleep and immediately knows when he wakes up, which is a strange thing to take pride in, now that he thinks about it. Oh well, it’s the little things that matter, especially during bad days like recently. A glance to the gold filtering through his windows gives away that it’s either close to sunset or it’s just past sunrise. On his side table is a glass of water and a small bowl of fruit, along with a note written in his brother’s handwriting. He reads it while munching on some watermelon chunks and grapes.

    I went shopping, now you have new stools and plenty of snacks to munch on, since I know you don’t have much of an appetite on your bad days. Thank you for trusting me with that. Work has me busy, you helped a lot. Thank you. Please get well and take your time.   - Best Bro

    P.S. I called Markus and Luther for you. They don’t know any details, and they shouldn’t ask unless you tell them first, but they know you’ll be taking a short break until you call them.

    Connor manages to force himself out of bed to go look at these new stools he supposedly has. He eyes Crystal laying on the bed, and after some contemplation, he decides to bring her. Hank already saw her yesterday, and he doubts Ritch would really care if he carried around a stuffed animal. That is, if he’s even in the house.

    He steps out of his room, bringing the now empty bowl with him, and notes that it takes less energy than last time he did so. His new stools are made of light wood and have a green cushion on top, rather than the plain, polished oak his last ones were. He places his bowl in the sink, then walks over to squish the stool seat. It’s very squishy.

    “Soft, ain’t it?” Hank asks. Connor nods and he continues. “If I weren’t so old, I’d be sitting there instead of over here on this couch, if I’m gonna be honest.”

    The corner of Connor’s lips rise up just a bit, “You’re not that old.”

    “Nah, not really, but I feel like I am.” Hank settles back down into the couch with what appears to be one of his own books.

    “Me too. Sometimes.”

    Connor quietly wanders over and sits. He notices that his painting stuff was picked up and cleaned, but wasn’t moved from the coffee table. Connor stares at it for a long time, noting that all his supplies have been thoroughly cleaned. He tries to find the energy to finish the last few strokes on that simpler painting he never finished, but he gives up a few minutes in. Hank must have noticed his intense staring.

    “And this is what you do all day? You just sit here and mess with art n’ shit?”

    Connor shakes his head. “I write mostly. Or read. Or sit and stare into space while music plays.”

    Hank grunts, “That seems like a boring life.”

    “It is.” he answers instantly, “But I’m a coward and I like safe and boring. And it gets me some money, so…”

    A few moments of silence pass, and Connor finally looks over to Hank for the first time. Yep, he’s reading Connor’s second book.

    “Are you enjoying the book?”

    Hank hums and nods. “Surprisingly so. I don’t know what I was expecting when I saw the cover and read the summary, but I certainly wasn’t expecting it to be genuine.”

    Connor tilts his head to the side like a confused dog, “Genuine?”

    “Yeah. The cover has the main character as the nekojin, and the summary describes him as this kick ass pirate who saves people and shit, but I just kinda figured it was to catch the clout of this kinda stuff that started up back then, and the actual book itself was gonna be the normal ‘this is the summary of the first chapter, and the rest is just this dude being a slave’, y’know? I started reading it only ‘cause Ritch basically forced me to, but I’m pleasantly surprised.”

    ~That traitor~, Connor wants to say out loud, but doesn’t.

    “I’m glad.”

    Hank’s brows furrow and he stares at the other questioningly, “You’re glad? For what? Reading one of the thousands of books you have stashed away?”

    He shakes his head, “It’s only hundreds, and you didn’t look at the author, did you?”

    That makes Hank check the author on the spine immediately. His expression shifts from confused to downright shocked in a flash.

    “You wrote this? Mister ‘I swear I’m not an activist’?”

    Connor blushes in embarrassment. He hasn’t heard anything like that in years.

    “It was actually an accident, believe it or not. This was my second book. I was still in high school when I self-published it, and back then I never payed any attention to news or anything like that. All I knew was that there were no books featuring a partial-human for some reason, despite them being such a large number of our population, so I wrote that.” He waves his hand at the book in Hank’s hand. “It’s still my top seller of all time, even if it isn’t being sold anymore.”

    Hank nods as if he understand the true extent of what happened. “Yeah, that clout was there, even if you didn’t know it.”

    Connor smirks, “Someone bought 200 copies of that book just to burn them all in a huge bonfire.”

    “Holy shit, really?”

    “Yeah. Got tagged in it and everything. So much money just to make some stupid point. Sometimes I wonder if they realize how much money I made off of that, or how much paper they wasted.”

    “Probably not. Damned rich people.”

    Connor nods his agreement. “I’m sure you’ve had your share of rich people too, though. Less pleasant.”

    Hank nods, this time, “Yeah, but not nearly as bad as others. I was a favorite, so I wasn’t really touched. I’ve been treated worse by the poor, really.”

    Connor fidgets, trying to decide whether or not he should ask his next question. The look Hank gives him somewhat forces his hand.

    ”What does being a favorite mean?”

    Hank sighs. “It basically means that specific partial-human is rare.” Hank hums in thought, “So, like, we partial-humans kind of follow the same genetic laws that our corresponding animals do. Two nekojins can have children, just like two inujins can, but a neko and inu can’t have one together. It just doesn’t work. But there’s also the genetic laws within the animals themselves.

    “Like, if a poodle and a golden retriever have puppies, you get a litter of golden-doodles, yeah?” Connor nods. “And the same thing happens when a pair of inujins of those species get together. Their child is a golden-doodle. So on so forth.”

    Connor can’t be patient any longer. “Why were you a favorite?”

    Hank takes a deep breath. “For every three thousand or so female calicos, there is roughly one male. And that’s when the cat is having a whole litter of kittens, not just one baby at a time.” Hank gestures to his ears and tail, “I am the first male calico nekojin anyone’s reportedly seen in over a century.”

    It seems like that’s the end of Hank’s explanation, and Connor can’t even believe what he just heard. He didn’t even realize that there were so few male calico cats in the first place. He forces himself to relax into the couch as he processes this. If anyone on the street knows about this calico ratio and sees Hank, the odds are they’re gonna want to start something, whether it’s trouble or just extensive, possibly invasive questioning. He has no clue how many people actually know the ratio, or how many would actually approach them, but it’s a wonder that Hank wasn’t picked up by anyone while he was homeless.

    “I attracted crowds,” Hank continues abruptly, “and Zlatko wanted me unscarred and uninjured to maximize monetization, so no one was allowed to touch me, and I got fed real well compared to the other partial-humans there,” he leans back into the couch, “a lot of those partial-humans hated me for how I got ‘pampered’. I hated myself for a while there because of it, too. But I soon realized that I wasn’t exactly getting pampered.

    “While I was out on the streets, two different people tried to take me home or what not, and the third was successful after darting me. The only reason those three shitheads were even able to get me down was because I was still drugged from the food that asshole shoved down my throat.”

    “And then you woke up in yet another strange place, with yet another strange person promising something too good to be true.” Connor finishes.

    Hank nods slowly, silently.

    “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. As I said before, I’m not trapping you here, so if you want to go, you can. But you’re also not a burden here, either.”

    Hank looks at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, but Connor continues as if he doesn’t see his expression.

“Although, if you plan on staying for more than a month, I expect you to help pack up.” Connor plows right through Hank trying to argue something, “I was thinking about moving out of this place anyway– it’s never been quite right for me– but this…” he trails off, trying to find the word.

    “Shitstorm?” Hank finishes with one of those I’m actually really affected by what happened but I’m going to try my damnedest to not let it show by playing the entire thing off as a joke smirks. Connor is very familiar with those smirks.

    “Yea. This, shitstorm kinda put the nail in the coffin for me.”

    “Well I would damn hope so.” Hank smiles, seemingly genuinely amused this time, to Connor’s surprise. “Yeah yeah, count me in with the packing if I haven’t clawed my way outta here and you haven’t booted me out yet.” He amicably pats the author’s shoulder. “Now, I don’t know if you’ve realized, but it’s getting late, and I, for one, want dinner.”

    Hank places a bookmark in Connor’s book then gets off the couch with a large sigh. He makes his way over to the kitchen and starts digging around in the fridge as if he belongs there– and maybe he does belong there in Connor’s apartment. He was right about Hank, though. It may have been a really rocky start, but Connor thinks they’ll get along well enough.

•◊•◊•◊•◊• 

Connor Translations:

    “Is there going to be a thing here? Like, am I gonna have to find somewhere else to stay-stay– st-s-st– go be at for a while? While you look for clues– clu-cl-clu–”

    “He was hurt. And I couldn’t just leave him for the nex– nex-next asshole to come around.”

    “And Zlak-Zl-Zlakto” Nods. “He was just one of those cra-crazy former owners we see on TV?”

    “So I can safely lock myself in my room and have a break down until tomorrow afternoon without being bothered?”

    “Thank you. Maybe the day after tomorrow or the day after that, just no sooner please.”

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Previous <~> Next

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A/N: Hiya! Look who’s finally back!! I’m so so so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, and I promise I’m working on The Drift Between Us as well, I’ve just gotten busy lately is all, then I couldn’t get in the right mindset to write this chapter and ended up deleting and rewriting everything except the fight itself, like, five times I think? So it’s been a blast. So thank you all for being patient with me! I hope to have the next chapter of TDBU in a week or two (if my schedule and ADHD will allow me), so there’s that to look forward to! Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! 💕💖

P.S. Happy Birthday Connor!!

[takingcourage]

The Start of Forever - Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: Drake x MC

Word Count: 2,387

Series Summary: The wedding has passed and the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria are free to begin their lives together away from the constraints of court. While honeymooning in Texas, they’re confronted with questions from their past that raise implications about their future. (Slight AU)

Chapter Summary: Drake and Jena spend some time alone after a difficult conversation with his mother. 

Author’s Note: Whew! Apologies for the unexpected hiatus on this story. Now that I have some free time again, I should be able to finish posting this story. I appreciate your patience through the long delay!

Tagging: @andy-loves-corgis, @carabeth, @speedyoperarascalparty

All things considered, Karen Walker had been rather more understanding than she’d expected. As Jena loaded her cereal bowl into the dishwasher, she thought back over the painstaking conversation that had ended less than an hour before.

Drake had not underestimated the effect that their news would have on his mother. On learning that her son had been given a duchy, color had drained slowly from the older woman’s face until a dull white shell was all that remained. In spite of her polite responses, the visceral reactions had been painful for all three of them.

Shortly after their previous discussion had finished, Karen had pulled Drake aside for a private word. After what she'd seen over the past eighteen hours, Jena could only hope that the woman was doing him no further damage.

She tried to convince herself that she’d done nothing but hurry along the inevitable, but guilt assailed her all the same. This certainly wasn’t the way she’d envisioned this day going. At this point, so much of their morning had been consumed by unpleasant conversation that she wondered if Drake would want to leave early for their night back in Dallas. She glanced a the stovetop clock, trying not to get her hopes up.

The quiet intonations from down the hall were at least somewhat reassuring. There had been no yelling -- of that was certain. If she was venturing to guess, she didn’t think she’d heard anything that sounded like crying either. Both seemed like signs in favor of productive conversation between mother and son.

Jena found a rag draped across the head of the faucet, dampened it, and set about clearing crumbs from the table. As she finished the final swipe across the width, she sensed a presence coming toward her.

“You don’t have to do that, Wittman.” The soft-spoken words startled out of her thoughts, despite her intuition.

“I know. But I needed something to do.” She cupped her hand underneath the cloth and shook the contents into a nearby trash can. “You doing okay?” Having rinsed the rag, she returned it to its former spot and rubbed her hands down the front of her jeans.

“Fine.” His brown eyes were trained on her, and she raised a quizzical brow as he opened and shut his mouth. Eventually, the words ventured forth. “Would you be interested in going riding? I was hoping to get the chance to show you around the ranch…”

“I’d like that a lot, actually,” she assured, still taking in his appearance.

Drake looked tired. It was evident in the exaggerated slackness of the skin around his eyes. A pang of guilt plagued her as she contrasted this with their time at the cabin. He’d been so peaceful there. After all of the stress she’d seen on that face in the past months, it sickened her to think that she’d been the cause of more.

“Good. We may as well get over to the stables. Have you ever actually saddled a horse, Wittman?” He raised his brow in challenge.

“No, but I think I’m about to learn how.” 

“Just as long as you don’t go scaring the horses. I don’t want to have to reenact that rescue from the derby.”

Jena scoffed at the slight, shaking her head in disbelief as she followed him out the front door. “You know that’s not how it happened, Walker.”

“Of course not,” he acquiesced, treating her to a half smile. She rolled her eyes and fell into step at his side, slipping her fingers into his. 

Jena had only ridden horses a few times during childhood, but she’d adjusted to the practice fairly quickly after coming to Cordonia. When she wasn’t taking day-long treks for foxhunting, she found that she actually enjoyed it very much -- especially when she was fortunate enough to have her husband’s company.

Riding around his family’s property spawned memories of exploring Valtoria with him on horseback, and she felt a pang of longing for their home. There was so much waiting for them when they returned. As much as she had enjoyed the honeymoon, some part of her was giddy at the thought of starting real life together.

Today, however, she was focused on Drake’s wellbeing. Other than the extremely thorough instructions as he’d guided her through the process of saddling the horses, he’d been fairly quiet since coming to find her in the kitchen. Jena's mind overflowed with words that could fill the silence, but nothing felt right. She breathed a grateful sigh when he chose to speak instead.

“I was pretty upset with you this morning, Wittman. I was sitting there drinking coffee and thinking that you were being unreasonable -- that you’d judged my mom too harshly. I’m not so sure anymore.”

The uncertainty in his voice halted her instinctive response. Jena breathed out slowly through her nose, biding her time in case there was more he wanted to say.

“I’ve never felt so angry with her before. She can doubt me all she wants, but doubting you -- I never thought she’d go that far. That’s a line she shouldn’t have crossed. I feel like I don’t even know her anymore...”

“For the record, I didn’t want to be right,” Jena admitted softly, grateful that they kept their horses at a relaxed pace so that she could meet his gaze. Her heart clenched at the distance in his deep brown eyes. “I just know what it’s like to defend someone who doesn’t deserve it. Finding out they’re not who you thought they were...it’s a hard pill to swallow.” She fiddled with the leather reins between her fingers, hoping that she was treading lightly enough to cause no offense.

“Your dad?” he asked simply.

Nodding, she met his eyes. The distant look gave way to a tenderness that mirrored her own worry for him, and she was struck by just how broken both of their families had been. “I wasted a lot of years making excuses for him, Drake. When I finally forgave him, it wasn’t because he’d done anything to deserve it. I just needed closure.” Drake stretched out a hand and she took it gratefully before continuing. “I don’t want you to have to go through all of that with your mom. I hope you’re able to figure things out and find a way to start over, but please don’t beat yourself up about it if you’re not.”

Her husband sighed, taking his time to respond as he turned his gaze to the horizon. “I sort of have to. I mean, dad’s not around any more. She doesn’t exactly have anyone else.”

Jena shook her head in an attempt to clear the conflicting emotions. She’d realized long ago that his protective instinct would have a propensity for getting them in trouble. She just hadn’t expected the trouble to take this form. “You always want to defend the people you care about, Drake. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you -- one of the things I love most about you too. But sometimes you have to think about protecting yourself. Sometimes that may even mean letting others protect you.”

“I don’t like to have people worrying about me.”

“We’ve been over this before…”

“I know. And sometimes having you around to worry about me is a good thing. I wouldn’t have come clean with my mom if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I hope it was the right decision.” She’d spent the past several hours second guessing her encouragement from the night before. “Did things...go okay?”

“Heh.”

She waited several moments, but he elaborated no further. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she ventured finally.

“Just that I think it’s going to take some time for her to adjust to the idea that I’m a noble and that I’m staying in Cordonia for good. But I think some part of her is proud too. Maybe someday she’ll come around to the idea that I’m not just wasting my life over there.”

“Does she really think that?” The words felt strangled as Jena worked them out of her throat. So many of her early interactions with Drake became clearer as she considered Karen’s likely influence.

He clicked his tongue to encourage the horse, but her question remained unanswered. Several paces later, he came to a sudden stop. Jena pulled the reins gently and dismounted to stand beside him in the tall grass.

“We’ll let the horses graze for a bit.”

She stroked the mare’s bony cheek and dropped the reins, putting her hands in her pockets instead. Squinting against the mid-morning sun, she followed Drake to a line of fencing nearby. Green stretched before them on every side, the light wind stirring long blades of grass into mesmerizing waves. She wondered vaguely if this was the sight that had enticed Karen to come back from Cordonia. Out here, in the warmth of late spring, it wasn’t hard to imagine the appeal that this land must have held.

Drake leaned against the nearest post, a wrinkle forming between his brows. With ease, Jena mounted the fence beside him, steadying herself with a certain hand.

Did I cross a line? Why hasn’t he answered my question? Jena hated the thought that her carelessness might have caused such distress. A week ago, she wouldn’t have been so bothered by the thought. Now, as this man’s wife, she felt some measure of responsibility to read his mind. The notion was ridiculous, but present nonetheless. Just as she was clearing her throat, he spoke.

“I’m not sure what my mother thinks anymore. She didn’t take it very well when I moved back to Cordonia. Wanted me to forge my own path instead of running back to the palace.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“Going back?” At her nod, he continued. “I had a lot of questions at the time, but in a way, mom’s right. I’d been following Liam around for so long that it was easier to just settle back into that when I came back from the States. It took me a while to find where I belonged in all of it.  But no, I don’t regret it. Cordonia is home.”

“You’ve found your way now. And with or without the courtly graces, you’re still Drake Walker,” she beamed encouragingly. “I just wish your mom had taken the chance to get to who that man is.” A fresh sting of remorse accompanied the words, and she looped her fingers around the hand that rested beside her on the fence.

Drake interlocked his fingers with her own and lifted his face tentatively. “I think I’d like for her to get the chance to.”

Her pulse quickened at the meaning that underpinned his words. Biting her tongue, she shifted her weight toward him and took in his pensive expression.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He hiked a hand through his hair. “But I’m not sure I’d ever forgive myself if I cut the relationship off completely. I’d always wonder if things could have been different. I’m not saying that I want to come out here for Christmases or anything, but--” preoccupied, he ceased speaking as she squeezed his hand. 

“I’ll support whatever you choose, Drake. I can’t say I have a very good first impression of her, but I respect how much she means to you. If I had any hope of my dad changing for the better, I’d probably make the same choice.” Her tone grew wistful at the impossible notion. “But I think we’re going to have to find a compromise. I don’t want you bending over backward to make her a part of our lives if she won’t even meet you halfway. You can’t do that to yourself, Drake.”

“Agreed.”

“So she’s going to have to understand that there are boundaries she can’t cross. It’s going to take some time for us to establish trust again.”

“Sounds fair to me,” he considered, stroking her knuckles with his thumb as he looked to her face. “She’s been through a lot, Jena. I don’t want to put her through more than she deserves.”

“I know,” she responded quickly to the flash of pain in his eyes. “But if she puts you through more than you deserve, she’ll have me to contend with.” Although her tone was light, they both knew that the threat was genuine.

He hoisted himself onto the fence beside her, dropping his hands to his sides. “I never thought I’d be so happy to get back to Valtoria, but I’m really looking forward to it.”

She offered a wry smile. “I am too. I know we’re going to try to work things out here, but I can’t wait to get back to Dallas and then home.”

“It’s the last night of our trip, Wittman. How do you want to spend it?”

“Seeing as it’s the last night of our honeymoon,” she emphasized, “I was thinking room service, hot tub, and…some drinks.”

“Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”

“I’m not going overboard though. We’ve got a day full of traveling tomorrow.”

“We’ll sleep it off on the plane.”

“Maybe you will," she joked, hopping down from the fence. “I’ll be awake for it all.”

“Even if I keep you up all night?”

Jena threw him a look over her shoulder. "That didn’t exactly work for the trip out here." He extended a hand toward her and she settled into the space between his legs, running her palms against toned thighs that were stretched taut from his heels pressing into the lower rail.

"I’ll take that as a challenge.” The glint in his eyes sent tendrils of heat through her core.

“Just keeping you on your toes, Walker.” 

Drake shook his head at her accompanying wink. 

“Ready when you are,” she announced, rising to the tips of her toes. Drake cradled her cheek in his hand and leaned into the kiss. His lips were soft and warm, heated by the morning sun. She snaked her arms around his waist and melted into him with pleasure. When she finally pulled away, it took several moments for her head to clear.

The kiss told her all she needed to know. They would make it through this.  Together. 

[nightblogofficialbook]

Chapter One

Also available on the Tapas.io Website, search for Night in the Novels tab!

“Helen, time to wake up!”

I turned over with a groan. “My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, mom,” I complained, burying my head further under the pillow.

“You set that thing way too late, you’re always rushing yourself in the morning!”

Mom clicked the light on and I groaned louder. “Come on, I’ll make you pancakes but you have to get up now little missy.”

I gave in and sat up. My hair was a nest, my muscles still asleep. I yawned and stretched, and got up to walk out of my room to the bathroom to fix my mess.

My name is Helen Morris. I’m sixteen, tired of life, and ready for retirement already. It’s currently 5:30 a.m. thanks to school being an hour’s bus route away from home. In three months I turn seventeen and qualify for driving unsupervised. Not that I have a car to drive, but at least I’ll be able to work without the school stepping in, too. I live with my mom in an old, rickety two-bedroom, one bathroom house with walls that creaked and water that didn’t always run hot for very long. It wasn’t much, but it was paid off and in her name. My dad’s in prison, but I don’t want to think about him.

I got dressed in plain jeans and a blue t-shirt and walked through the hallway to the kitchen. Mom had some homemade blueberry pancakes made up ready the way I usually eat them. I groggily sat down and took a bite, enjoying the flavor for the moment. Mom glanced back at me from the sink where she was cleaning the pans and bowls.

“See, isn’t this nicer than rushing off with no breakfast?” she said matter-of-factly.

“It is, thanks Mom.” I really was grateful to being woken up like this. Mom usually works overnight as a nurse, so mornings like these are the result of her still being awake after her shift. It was hard to fully appreciate it in the moment, though, with the not being fully awake yet and all.

I finished my pancakes and milk, and dropped the dishes in the dishwasher. After finishing up the rest of my boring morning routine of brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I grabbed my bag, hugged my mom, and went out the door for the ten minute walk towards the bus stop.

The air was still cool and crisp, but I knew it was a lie. In two to fours hours it would be hot as hell. I still wore a jacket nonetheless because the school, in addition to being terrible already, did not know what the meaning of climate control is, and tended to have its classrooms ranging from stuffy to freezing. But for these ten quiet minutes, it was a nice morning.

The aged houses and trees of my neighborhood gave way to a more modern urban sprawl, the neighborhood of the better-off kids. I like to think I was only envious of the fact that they had less things to worry about, given their financial stability. Granted, I had no idea what kind of lives lived behind those doors, but I couldn’t help the bitter feeling that it surely couldn’t be anything nearly as bad as the rest of us. I haven’t really been out in the world necessarily yet, but I did see how much mom struggles to keep us afloat and happy.

Past this neighborhood was the community center and library, which is where my bus stop was. Behind this was a large, forested area which I sometimes use as shortcut to get  here from home as it cuts the time in half. Which I frequently have to do. It can be pretty creepy this early in the morning, even more so after dark. But the five minutes of sunset was where it’s at; the way the golden-red rays fell through the trees...it was pretty magical.

Fun fact about this forest; there’s this huge creepy castle that no one ever goes near, somewhere right smack in the middle. It’s not like people aren’t allowed to go near, but, inexplicably, people avoid that place anyway. Some say it’s haunted, some claim it’s not even there. Apparently some have even actually gone in but never came back out. None of it is backed up by anything, but I’ve always avoided the area nonetheless. It’s a bit out of the way from my route home anyway, and I’m not dumb enough to go trespassing on someone else’s property in the middle of the woods.

The bus arrived, and thank goodness, because the other kids at my stop started to arrive at the same time. I didn’t want to interact with anyone if I could help it. One dude quickly put out a cigarette soon as he saw the bus, and a couple girls my age looked disappointed to not have any time to gawk and gossip about the shabbiness of everything in general. Since the bus barn is close to this area, ours was the first stop to be picked up in the mornings, but also the last one to drop in the evenings. Which meant we got first pick on seats but also had to deal with everyone else for the maximum amount of time possible. And this bus picked up both junior high and high schoolers.

I remember being in junior high, I grimaced as a bunch of fourteen/fifteen-year-olds loaded up at the next few stops. It really wasn’t all that long ago honestly, but it was such a weird age. Girls figuring out puberty, boys learning how to be asses but not understanding why girls won’t be attracted to them, but at the same time both genders thinking the other is stupid. I really hated that age. Not that high school is much different, but at least everyone has enough going on to keep out of each other’s business.

The hour passes and I nearly fell asleep as the bus dropped the high schoolers off first. I got my stiff legs moving and made my way into the building.

Classes pass in a daze like usual. Nothing is very interesting, but at least it’s consistent. I know what to expect from my day, and what’s expected of me. I know what periods I’m going to hate, and which ones I can relax in. It really isn’t as bad as I complain about, sometimes. That’s just how life goes. You settle into monotony and enjoy the calm ride however you can.

Unfortunately for today, I had forgotten about my math test. I’m not bad at math, but I’m not great at it either, and the teacher is REALLY confusing most of the time. She needs to seriously consider retirement; hardly anyone could make heads or tails of what she’d say. I bombed the test of course, I forgot to do the practice homework to prepare for it. When I got my test back, there was a note in red pen telling me I need to apply myself or I’m going to have to take remedial lessons. The last thing I needed was even MORE time at school. That would mean I’d have to miss my bus and catch a public bus. Which means getting home after dark and making mom worry.

Last class was just a seminar hour for study, and thankfully I had this with my best friend, Emily. We both took a dead language class as an elective and were translating a runes assignment.

“Tell me if you think this is close,” she said quietly. “Here be a person of shared...tree?”

“That’s the symbol for parent, not tree,” I corrected, “so it should be ‘Here be a person of shared parent.’ They’re saying it’s their sibling.”

“Ooooooohhhh I get it now,” Emily mused. “I swear though, I had to have gotten somebody’s eulogy or something.”

“It might be, it’s gotta be more interesting than mine. I’m pretty sure I just have someones written layout of their town.”

“Seriously though, how are you so good at this? These are dead languages, and the teacher freakin’ loves you.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. I have a hard time with the roman based letters sometimes, which is dumb, but give me runes and I’ve got it. I think it’s because there’s a simpler pattern to decipher for me. Like, the structure just makes sense with the language syntax or something.”

“I dunno,” Emily stared dubiously at her text. “We’re already in the second course and this is still all just gibberish to me.”

“You got that far, though, didn’t you?” I said, gesturing to her project. “You got halfway through the assignment before getting a symbol confused with another.”

“Yeah, but I still have to use a cheat sheet.”

I shrugged again. “Nothing wrong with that. Plus, no one else has it as easy either. Maybe I’m just a weirdo.”

She laughed, and I grinned. Our seminar teacher shushed us angrily, even though we weren’t being that loud. I narrowed my eyes his direction but just let it go. He had always been an ass that could only ever amount to a gym teacher, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight with him. Besides, there was nothing I could really do about it.

School let out and Emily walked with me to my bus. She was one of the lucky ones whose parents were able to have time to pick her up after school. “You think you’ll be able to come over today?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, not this time either. Mom wants me to pick up some stuff from the community center for her work and by that point it’ll be almost dark.”

“Dang. You should ask her if it’s cool if my mom just picks you up from school and then takes you home.”

“Ha! Good luck with that, she barely feels comfortable with me riding the bus, let alone someone else’s car.”

We said our goodbyes and I got on the bus to settle in for the hour-long drive back. The town flew by in a blur of hills and houses and trees, every now and then passing through the small business district again as the bus weaved back and forth, unloading it’s contents like a slowly hatching spider’s nest. The tiredness of the day began to weigh on me, and I felt a little guilty for lying to Emily. Mom didn’t actually have anything I needed to get; I just didn’t want to ask her again, only to be told no and reminded of the dangers of why. And with her busy schedule, she really didn’t even have time to meet parents and give proper assessment. It was so frustrating, but even more so because I understood why.

At least, in a few months, I’ll legally be allowed to work, and I’ll be able to use that as a reason for her to allow me to start making my own decisions.

My stop finally arrived, I got off the bus like all the other little spiderlings, and began my walk home. I still have enough time before sunset actually happens and it gets too dark, so I decided to take my nature path through the woods. It was quiet, immediately a different atmosphere from the civilization around the community center. The trees were tall and loomed far overhead, not impossibly tall or really even impressively tall, but gentle. The oaks and sycamores and birches all commingled their leaves, creating this wonderful blanket of patterned light through the summer green foliage. A breeze would sometimes drift through, causing the treetops to shimmer and rustle and bring relief from the fading summer heat. Below my feet was a lightly worn path from all the times I’ve walked through these woods, every now and then branching off into other less worn paths from the times others had walked through here as well. I breathed in and enjoyed the peace. Sometimes I wish I could just live out here, in the trees, away from all the people. Away from all the noise and frustrations of everyone’s expectations.

The peace was short lived of course, as it always was. The path was only a five minute walk after all. And before long I was back near my house with its tall privacy fenced in yard and it’s peeling paint and creaky hinges.

Mom was already awake and getting ready for work, wearing her baby blue scrubs as I walked in.

“Dinner is on the stove,” she instructed, “ and I have the oven on warm so don’t forget it. Remember to keep the doors locked.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Love you baby, be safe.”

“You too mom,” I hugged back, and locked the door as she left. I checked all of the windows and back doors absentmindedly, thinking about how different things would be if things were...well, different. Mom could stay at home and wouldn’t need to work so much, I could possibly have a life outside school and home, though to be honest I don’t know how much I’d actually want that. Maybe we’d have a bigger, newer house.

I shook my head, assembling the chili tortillas mom had prepped for me and sitting down. No, this is nice, this is okay. We’ve got a warm home, enough good food, and new clothes when we need them. We’re not hurting for money, and getting by modestly. This was nice enough.

After cleaning my dishes and putting the food away, I went back to my room to my desk to deal with the remedial homework my math teacher had given me. I clicked the radio setting on my alarm and listened to music while I worked through the numbers. The song playing on the station made me smile; it was a pop classic Emily and I liked to make fun of, due to it sounding exactly like every other song out there but with the lyrics being horrifically bad. I sung to it softly, wondering what she was up to.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the phone rang. My heart gave a start from the sudden noise. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hey! It’sa me!”

I laughed. “Hey Emily. I was just thinking about what you’d be up to.”

“Making pizza rolls. Well, waiting for pizza rolls. So I just heard our song on the radio and I thought hey, Helen better be hearing this too ‘cause I can’t just enjoy the hilarity of it again all by myself.”

I laughed again. “I was, actually. Trying to plow through this stupid extra math work Mrs. Marrow gave me.

“Ugh, Bloody Marrow, she needs to retire.”

“For sure.”

“Anyway, so I actually wanted to tell you something that happened to me today!” she began, excited. “Erin asked me out in the most sweetest adorable way ever, she had given me her phone number last week ‘cause we had a science project together and had to coordinate outside of class and whatever, and today she sent me a text wanting to know if I like ice cream and would want to go get some at this new shop opening up at the mall this week!!”

I sat forward in amazement. “Emily! That’s awesome! You’ve had a crush on her for like, forever, I’m so happy for you!”

“I knoooooooow,” I heard her squee on the other end, and the sound of rustling as she was probably rolling back and forth on her bed happily. “She’s so prettyyyyy and I’m so gaaaaaaaaaaay.” I laughed.

“Well, I really hope it works out for you. It’d be really cool to see you two together.”

“Yeah, I’m a little scared though. I mean, this clearly sounds like a date, but I have no idea if she’s like, INTO me, or just ya know, looking for a friend or whatever.”

“Dude. She’s totally into you. How could she not be?”

“Buuuuuut-”

“For reals though. I’ve seen the way she acts when you come around. Plus you’re not exactly hiding your rainbows. She’s totes into you.”

“Uuuuuggghhhhh I just don’t knowwwwww.” I heard her shift. “Have you ever had a massive crush on anyone? Or have a crush on anyone currently?” she added with a hint of probing in her voice.

“I did once,” I grimaced. “That was a few years ago. You remember James?”

She made a noise of surprise. “Ugh that jock-head?”

“Yeah. He went to my middle school before we had moved here.��

“Dang, small world.”

“Yeah. Well, I used to think he was cute back then, and he kind of was. But I never really knew him. When I first moved here and started high school, I found out he went to this school too, so I tried to go talk to him since he was the only person I knew, and he essentially said ‘Ew, no, go away.’ Or something like that.”

“Ugh, boys are so rotten. You should switch sides, girls are way nicer.”

I gave a small laugh. “I wish. I get why you like girls, but I just kinda...don’t like anyone.”

“Dude, confession time to lighten the mood? I once had a crush on you.”

“I know,” I laughed. “You gave me chocolates and your lunch like, everyday. I felt bad for not realizing sooner after I ate all of your food.”

She laughed too. “S’algood, s’algood, I think I may have been mixing feelings a bit, you just seemed like someone I HAD to get to know.”

“I’m really glad you did. I didn’t have any friends at that time.”

“And you’re like, the most open-minded person ever. A lot of girls would get really defensive. Which sucks, but is also pretty hilarious too.”

“Well, I’m flattered you thought I was gay,” I teased. “And sorry that I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you could be bi though, and I just wasn’t your type. Or maybe even ace.”

“I dunno, I kinda just...don’t care? I don’t really care what category I’d fit in, I just want to be treated like me.”

“Saaaaaame, girl, same.”

We chatted for a few more hours before it started getting really late. The phone call distraction extended my homework by the same amount of time, but it made it easier to get through, and at least it was done. As the last tangent conversation ended we said our see-you-tomorrows and hung up.

I flopped back against the musty pillows. I should really wash those. Our earlier conversation went through my mind, and I turned over on my side, hugging a large stuffed husky my mom got me when I was ten. It’s not like I didn’t want to like people, or that I didn’t want to date anyone. No one ever felt like they were actually interested in ME, not even Emily. At least Emily was aware of it; that’s the reason we became friends. But...I didn’t want to risk the possibility of actually really liking someone, and they just turn out to be like James had been; a stuck up jerk who didn’t even want to be nice. Or like some of the guys that were too thick to understand that Emily likes girls and certainly not them.

Being alone though...that’s what sucks the most. And for me, being around people who make me feel alone is the worst feeling of all.

I sat at the computer lab in the community center, looking at job listings, looking for any that hire seventeen year olds. It was still a few months away but It wouldn’t hurt to try to get a head start. I could use the shortened time to convince them to at least consider me; there was a public bus route that made a stop just down the road from where the school bus drops, at roughly the same time. I could take my seminar hour at the end of the day and check myself out of school, work for a couple of hours, and then commute back here. And mom wouldn’t need to know about it, AND I’d be able to help out with expenses. It’s a win-win scenario, it wouldn’t even cut into homework time.

I leaned back and stretched, and noticed that it was unusually quiet, and dark, in the building. I looked around; everyone had left save for the front desk lady, who was quietly reading her book. The auto lights had already gone out.

I checked the time on the computer. It said 8:05.

Oh crap.

Logging out as quickly as I could I bolted out the doors; the sun was already in setting position. “Oh crap oh crap.” Mom is going to be furious, this was her night off, I should have been home an hour ago…!

I ran towards the woods, debating whether to take the chance of it being dark before I made it through or getting into even more trouble with mom. To be honest, mom is probably scarier. The implications of it being after dark by the time I made it home was enough of a risk. I dove right into the treeline.

There was a different eeriness to the atmosphere here today, maybe it was because I was in a hurry, and maybe because it was minutes from full darkness. Something sent prickles across my skin, like I was being watched, like something was following me. I moved quicker, faster, my breath starting to become labored. A chilling mist was filling the forest; the sun had set. A strange lurch in the pit of my stomach pulled me in a direction that I was sure was the path home. Surely I was close now…?

I stopped, unable to believe my eyes as the treeline gave way to a clearing, my heart sinking as I realized it wasn’t because I was leaving the forest...and rising again from the sheer awe that was before me.

Towering far above me and covering the entire expanse of the open treeline I stepped out from, was an impressively large, black stone castle.

“It’s real…” I whispered. “No way…” How on earth did I end up here? I know that path by heart, I shouldn’t have veered off for a moment…!

Curiosity governed my senses. I walked through the white rose bushes that lined the outer wall and towards the brick; it wasn’t just a flat dark stone, it was carved with intricate details and patterns and symbols. With a start I recognized a lot of them; sanskrit, rune, greek, hebrew, korean. None were written in a manner I could read or understand, but something told me it was all the same language, whatever it was. Running my fingers across them felt almost electric, as if they held magic or something dumb like that.

I walked along the wall, carefully avoiding the rose buses that lined the way, coming up to a wrought iron gate. It twisted into intricate vine-like patterns with an almost glossy new sheen, as if it had just been made. A similar theme was applied to the rest of the castle beyond the wall, like a gothic style mansion with darkened rooftops. It was gorgeous and glossy and new and…

Wait, new?

I looked closer at the walls, and tried my best to look closer at the inner castle itself. Everything looked pristine and kept, fresh painted with muted and yet vibrant colors, even the stone and iron showed no discernable age. As if it had been freshly built. If this was the legendary castle in the woods, it would have to be SUPER ancient, because that myth has been around since our parents’ parents were little. It would be worn, the stones cracking and nature attempting to take over, or at the very least look uninhabited.

This looked very inhabited.

A chill fell over my body and dread followed suit. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what kind of people would live here, but I got the feeling they’d be the kind that wouldn’t care about shooting some random teenager looking like they’re about to trespass. I backed away quickly, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise as it felt like I was being closely watched again.

“Ouch!” Pain stung across my forearm as I stumbled into a rose bush, dragging a very thin bead of blood in a line down the scratch. “Ah, crap…” Now mom won’t just be mad. She’ll be paranoid.

A light snap! sounded from my left and I spun towards it, fear filling my pulsing chest. A million thoughts ran through my head, my breath started to catch. Very slowly, carefully this time, I started backing away. I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel ran out from a bush, but the tension remained. It was time to leave.

But then I heard another crack, and this wasn’t a squirrel.

A pair of eyes shone in the dark, and a large, lithe figure began to step out from the shadows; that was all I needed to turn around and nope the heck out of there.

I had barely taken ten steps before I felt a rush of wind, and then suddenly I was jerked backwards into something solid by my arms. “NO-!” A scream had just barely begun from my mouth when pain erupted my from shoulder. Numbness overtook me and then everything was black.

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[gcnseyonfire]

I love yous- Stenbrough AU

**Summary: Bill and Stan have been friends for years, but both of them have started realizing that they might feel something more for each other 

words: 1956

A/N:so this is my first fic EVER, please have mercy. Also when i say AU I mean that Pennywise never existed and Georgie is alive and well. 

17/18 years old Losers

This Friday Derry was abundantly rainy and the Losers were going to the Denbrough household, Bill had invited them over for the weekend since his parents were out of town. Stan was the first one to arrive, he was greeted by Georgie who started asking him questions about birds he had found in his science book, Stan was so pleased and answered him happily. Bill was looking at them from the kitchen, a warm feeling was spreading through his chest and bringing the biggest smile to his face, he started noticing this feeling a few months ago but he knew that it had always been there, he knew he felt like that every time he watched or was with Stanley, the only thing he didn’t know was what this feeling meant.

After half an hour the last Loser arrived, Bev knocked on the door, Bill opened it and  Bev immediately spoke “Sorry I’m late but I brought “A Nightmare on Elm Street” for you all” Bill hugged her “Bev y-you’re an a-a-angel, we didn’t know what to watch” Stan felt something and he knew exactly what it was. A pain in his chest with a bit of jealousy, Bill had liked Bev when they were younger, and yes, Beverly and Ben where happy together but what if Bill still felt something? Richie, who was sitting next to Stanley, noticed the change in Stan’s demeanour, he wasn’t smiling like he was while explaining something to Georgie anymore, he was deep in thought and serious. Richie, of course, knew that his best friend had feelings for Bill, Stan confessed it to him four months before. So he decided to bring Bev’s attention to him. “Yeah Marsh, you will, probably be forgiven, now shall we?” he said “Yeah, Rich yeah” the redhead rolled her eyes and handed the movie to Mike so he could put it on. Everyone sat down, Eddie sat between Richie’s legs, both of them on the carpet, Beverly and Ben were on the couch, hands intertwined and her head resting on the boy’s shoulder, Mike sat on the armchair and Georgie went upstairs in his room, he knew that Bill and his friends wanted a bit of privacy. Bill and Stan sat next to each other, both of their hearts started beating faster, both of them smiled to themselves.

Once the movie ended everyone was hungry so Richie and Beverly decided to make pancakes for dinner because why not.  All of them gathered in the kitchen,  Bill wanted to supervise what they were doing to be sure Richie didn’t burn the house down but he got distracted. He caught himself admiring Stan for a bit too long more than once. Stan was just so pretty, and his voice sounded like honey, he was like art in Bill’s eyes. But why, Bill thought, why did he think that Stan, one of his best friends, was the most beautiful person that ever lived? He just kept staring at Stan and quickly looking away whenever the curly haired boy turned to look in his direction. Stan who was doing the same felt a pair of eyes constantly on him and when he realized whose eyes were those he felt his cheeks heat up, Bill was staring at him? No way, impossible. Bill and Stan however, were the only ones between all the Losers who hadn’t realized how much they liked each other.

When they finished eating and everyone started loading the dishwasher Eddie pulled Bill aside. “Hey Bill, is there something you want to tell me?” he asked “No, n-nu-nothing why?” Bill responded  “Are you sure? What about the curly haired boy back in the kitchen?” Eddie smiled smugly “W-what about R-r-richie?” Bill tried to sound surprised and Eddie let out a soft chuckle “Oh it’s not about my idiot boyfriend, Bill, I’ve known you since we were kids, don’t you think I have noticed  the way you look at Stan?”  Bill nervously scratched the back of his head “Oh.. t-that.. yeah I d-d-don’t know wha-what that i-i-is either”  he said. Eddie led him to the couch, they both sat down. “Bill, what do you think about Stan?” Eddie asked “W-well I-I don’t know.. he’s one o-of my b-b-bestfriends..” Bill’s voice sounded uncertain “Yes, yes of course but there’s more, isn’t there?” Eddie's smile was encouraging “I-I think s-so” Bill said shyly “So let it all out” Eddie encouraged him “Well, Stan i-is like a-a-an angel, his s-smile is so b-beautiful, w-when he smiles a-a-at me I f-feel like n-nothing else matters, his e-ey-eyes are brighter th-than he brightest s-stars, a-and he is the b-best person I’ve e-ever met. And sometimes I-I don’t want t-o do n-nu-nothing but run m-my hand through his hair and his l-lips look so so-soft. And w-watching him with Georgie, I-I don’t know.. i-it makes me t-th-think about the future” Bill finished speaking, almost out of breath and looked at Eddie, he had a loving smile on his face “So, that’s why you were looking at him like he hung the stars” he said and Bill smiled. “What sh-should I do E-e-eddie?” Bill anxiously asked “I think you should tell him, this feelings aren't gonna go away soon” Eddie suggested “B-but what if he d-doesn’t feel the same and I-I ruin everything? What i-if after t-this he st-starts to hate me?”Bill asked worriedly “Oh Bill.. he’s not going to hate you, yeah, things might get a bit awkward at first but you’ll work it out, I mean come on, you’ve known each other since you were kids” Eddie told him. “Y-you’re right, thanks Eddie, I-I’ll tell him tonight” he said and they went back to the others, Richie and Stan were missing “W-where are Stan and the T-t-trashmouth?” Bill asked “They went to the bathroom” Mike informed them. “It’s good, you’ve got time to think about what to say to him” Eddie whispered to Bill, who just nodded

* in the bathroom  *                                                      

“Richie I’m going to tell him tonight” Stan said firmly “What? Are you serious Stanley?” Richie asked incredulous, Stan simply nodded. “My man! It’s about time, you’re lucky he’s fucking clueless, you look at him like he hung all the stars in the universe and your jealousy it’s a little evident too” Richie teased “Oh shut up Richie” Stan said, already a bit tense “So how are you feeling mi amigo? Are you ready?” Richie asked “Yes, I think I’m ready, I mean I’ve been preparing for this ever since I told you about it, but I’m scared, what if he’ll hate me?” Stan asked, more to himself than at Richie “Oh Stan, Stan, Stan, you’re even more clueless than him” Richie, (who too had noticed the way Bill looked at Stan) said “What do you mean?” Stan curiously asked “Oh, nothing Stanley, just keep things pg, I don’t want to hear any loud moan okay?” Richie laughed “Beep beep Richie” Stan said while leaving the bathroom.

Slowly everyone left to go to sleep and Bill and Stan were the only two left in the living room. “Hey Stan?” Bill said tentatively “Yeah?” Stan looked at him “I w-wanted to t-t-talk to you about s-something, is that o-okay?” Bill asked “Yes, actually I wanted to talk to you about something too” Stan said “Oh, about what?” Bill asked, surprised “No, no you go first” Stan anxiously said, Bill stood up from the sofa and started pacing “Oh, o-okay, so the t-th-thing is, y-you k-kn-know I-I’ve b-been th-th- FUCK! I’m sorry, i-it’s like my –body is working a-against m-me” Bill said frustrated, when he was anxious his stutter increased. Stan stood up from the armchair and went to grab Bill’s shoulders. They were face to face, looking in each other’s eyes, “Bill, calm down, it’s just me, Stan, you can tell me everything, you know that” he then moved one of his hands away from Bill’s shoulder, grabbed his hand and started rubbing circles on it. 

Bill immediately relaxed, took a deep breath and started again. “I’ve b-been thinking about y-you, a lot, and n-no-not as a friend, I feel so a-at peace when I’m with you and I-I  never want you to l-leave, you’re the m-m-most gorgeous p-person I’ve ever met, inside a-and out. I think I love you Stan. And n-now you’ll probably ha-hate me, but I n-needed to tell you, I’m s-sorry”  when Bill stopped talking Stan was stunned, he just looked at the boy he loved for two long minutes, their hands still intertwined  “Stan, please, just say something” Bill pleaded “Bill.. I wanted to tell you the same exact thing, you have no idea how happy I am” Stan said while the biggest smile spread across his face “W-wh-what?” Bill couldn’t believe what he just heard “I’m in love with you, William Denbrough” Stan said, Bill smiled, brought both his hands to Stan’s cheeks and kissed him. Stan kissed him back placing his hands on Bill’s lower back. Bill slowly moved his hands from Stan’s cheeks to Stan’s curls, gently pulling on them. When they pulled away their foreheads connected and they both giggled. “Wow, I can’t wait to tell the world that Bill Denbrough is my boyfriend” Stan said proudly “Well, I-I can’t w-wait to tell the world t-that I love Stanley Uris, and e-everyone who tries t-to hit on y-you w-will have to f-fi-fight me” Bill said fiercely “Okay, sure tiger” Stan laughed and kissed Bill again. And that’s how they spent the rest of the night, kissing each other’s soft lips and laughing.

THAT’S IT, now I’m gonna tag my baby, my love and n°1 supporter @forstenbrough ​

[latetothegreysparty]

Morning Bustle

I finally got around to writing one of the things I’ve been meaning to write for a little while: a second part to Family Dinner. While this story is intended to be the follow-up to Family Dinner, I’ve tried to write this one in such a way that it’s not totally necessary that you’ve read that one first. All the same, if you haven’t read Family Dinner and would like to, you can read it here. I’m not sure if I’m going to write more parts after this one or not; I guess we’ll just see where that one takes me.

Morning Bustle

Amelia groaned as the alarm on her phone blared, pulling her from her peaceful sleep. “There is no way it’s actually morning yet,” she thought as she opened her eyes and grabbed her phone to shut off the alarm. As Amelia’s eyes adjusted to the light streaming in through the window, she was disoriented for a moment. Why was she in one of the guest bedrooms of the home she used to share with Owen? Oh, right, she had come here last night with Maggie, Meredith, and the kids because the plumbing at Meredith’s house wasn’t working. Finally aware of her surroundings and situation, Amelia trudged out of the bed and noticed the shower running in the bathroom down the hall. That answered the question of whether she should shower or grab coffee first.

Amelia padded down the hall and smiled as she smelled the delicious aroma of coffee. As she stepped into the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway and her smile grew even wider. There at the stovetop was Owen who stood next to Zola who was standing on a chair. He was coaching her through the preparation of French toast and scrambled eggs. Zola looked intensely focused, and Owen’s eyes sparkled with contentment.

As Amelia listened to him patiently explain how they’d know when to flip the bread, she couldn’t help but feel a little wistful. Owen showed such tremendous love and care for the Shepherd children, and they weren’t even related to him. Witnessing such an obvious display of that love made Amelia wonder how much love he would’ve showered upon their children. Before too many images of Owen coaching soccer or Owen reading bedtime stories could pass through her mind, Amelia stepped through the threshold of the kitchen and walked over to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Owen said with a smirk. “I think everyone else in the house is already up and going. Would you like a plate of Zola’s breakfast? It’s delicious.”

“Mmm, sounds incredible,” Amelia replied, offering an indulgent smile to Zola. “I’m just waiting for Maggie to be done in the shower so I can hop in there, but will you two save me a plate?” Amelia pressed a kiss to Zola’s forehead as she surveyed their work over their shoulders.

“Of course, Auntie Amy,” Zola said as she plated the French toast and eggs, smiling with pride.

As Amelia walked out of the kitchen, she noticed that the water was no longer running, so she went back to her room to grab her towel and toiletries. Once she had everything she needed for her shower, she headed to the bathroom.

“Amelia!” Maggie shrieked as Amelia strode into the bathroom. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” Maggie, who stood in front of the mirror wearing only a pair of underwear, was struggling to figure out whether she should try to cover herself, push Amelia out the door, or just continue yelling.

“Oh, calm down,” Amelia scoffed. “They’re just boobs, and you’re my sister. Besides, I’ve seen ‘em before when we all walked in on you and DeLuca on the couch that one time when you told us you were ‘calling it an early night.’”

“So not the point!” Maggie yelled as she clasped her bra. “When a person is in the bathroom, you knock before walking in. That’s just the polite thing to do.”

“Polite is overrated,” Amelia replied as she began removing her pajama bottoms. “Speaking of which, I’m about to get naked, so if you’re as much of a prude about my body as you are about your own, you might want to take a hike.” Maggie just rolled her eyes and huffed before grabbing her stuff and walking back to their shared bedroom to get dressed.

When Maggie came into the kitchen a few minutes later, Owen, Meredith, and the three kids were all sitting at the table enjoying breakfast. “Good morning, Maggie,” Meredith said with a smile. “Sit down and grab a plate! Zola made breakfast for everybody.”

Zola handed Maggie a plate of eggs and French toast. “Enjoy, Auntie Maggie!”

“Thank you, Zola,” Maggie said as she took the plate from Zola. “At least someone around here has manners.” When she was met with quizzical looks from the two adults at the table, Maggie supplied, “I was getting dressed in the bathroom after my shower, and Amelia just barged in without knocking! Can you believe her?”

Meredith laughed. “Can I believe that the woman who got into the back seat of my car stark naked would walk in on her sister in the bathroom? Um, yeah, I think I can.”

“She what?!” Owen snorted.

“Oh, we didn’t tell you about that time?” Meredith asked with a laugh. “It was a while ago. Amelia was late to carpool, and when she finally got in the car, she was naked as the day she was born. Maggie and I both tried to explain to her that a person should be clothed when getting into someone else’s vehicle, but Amelia didn’t really see the problem.”

Owen just laughed and shook his head. “What time do you two get off tonight?” he asked, trying to figure out the dinner plan for the evening.

“I get off at six,” said Maggie.

“I should be off at six as well, provided none of my surgeries have any complications,” Meredith said. As Meredith described the surgeries she had scheduled for the day, everyone finished eating their breakfast and rinsed their dishes in the sink. Meredith glanced down at her watch once the dishwasher was loaded. Seeing the time, she headed down the hallway to check Amelia’s progress. The water was no longer running, so Amelia was done with her shower, but she seemed to still be in the bathroom. Meredith knocked on the bathroom door. “Amelia, get moving. We need to leave soon, otherwise we’re going to be late. You have five minutes to be in the car or we’re leaving without you.”

A half-dressed Amelia rolled her eyes from the other side of the door. “Settle down, Mer, I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Five minutes, Amelia. I’m not kidding,” came the reply.

As Meredith stepped away from the door and came back down the hallway, she found Maggie standing there with raised eyebrows, holding Bailey’s hand. “Are we actually going to leave her here?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, we are. She needs to learn how to get herself moving on time in the mornings. If a toddler can be pried out of bed in the mornings, then a grown woman can be as well. Besides, weren’t you the one who was complaining ten minutes ago about how she walked in on you in the bathroom? This is like karma or something.”

“I’ll go get the kids in the car,” Maggie said before turning to lead Bailey out the front door.

Amelia finished lotioning her legs, threw on the rest of her clothes, and then put her still-damp hair up. It wasn’t fancy, but it would have to do. She had to fumble around the counter a bit to find her deodorant and body spray. She finished by dabbing a bit of make up on her face and then jogged down the hall to her bedroom to find her lab coat and handbag. As she returned to the kitchen, she was surprised to find Owen standing alone in it. “Is everybody already in the car?” she asked as she turned to put her shoes on.

“Actually, they already left,” Owen replied. “Meredith said to tell you that five minutes means five minutes and that she’s tired of waiting for you.”

As Amelia’s eyes narrowed, Owen began to slightly regret his decision to repeat exactly what Meredith had told him to tell Amelia. He had been on the receiving end of Amelia’s ire enough times to know that a pissed off Amelia Shepherd was not a fun person to deal with. Well, unless they were having angry sex. Angry sex with Amelia was actually one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced. Oh shoot, he needed to stop thinking about that right now or she would notice how aroused he was getting and then she’d be even more angry and that wouldn’t be good. Owen was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Amelia’s voice.

“For all of this talk about being sisters and taking care of each other and all of that bullshit, she really is quick to hang me out to dry. No, don’t worry about me, Meredith. It’s not like my car is back at your house or anything. It’s not like I have no way of getting to work and now the chief of neurosurgery is going to be an hour late to the hospital because she had to get an Uber because her own sisters can’t be bothered to wait three extra minutes to give her a ride.”

Owen decided to cut her off before she really built up steam. “Amelia, you don’t need to call an Uber, I’ll just drive you in.”

“Really, are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” she asked, instantly switching from angry ranting to a much gentler tone.

“Of course not,” Owen replied warmly. “I’m about to head out anyway, so it’s no extra trouble to put an extra body in the truck with me. And besides,” Owen said with a smirk, “I really don’t want to deal with the wrath of Bailey when her chief of neurosurgery shows up an hour late and she finds out that I could’ve had her here on time, but refused to carpool. This is self-preservation.”

“Ass,” Amelia said with a smirk, punching Owen lightly on the arm. The two headed out to the garage and climbed into the truck and then headed off on their way to the hospital.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Owen finally spoke. “It’s nice to have a bit of time to catch up with you again. I feel like we haven’t talked in quite a while. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” Amelia replied with a soft smile, turning her head a bit to face him. “It’s been kind of nice to get to live with the kids again. They make me laugh every day, and they bring so much energy to the house. I really do love those three. Oh, and I guess Meredith and Maggie aren’t half bad either when they aren’t busy leaving for work without me.”

Owen chuckled. “So have you been seeing anyone?” Owen asked, deciding to just bite the bullet and ask the question that had been on his mind.

“No, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. I haven’t really wanted to. I do get a bit lonely being in that house all alone, though. I’m glad you guys are out here with me this week. It’s really nice to have more people in the house and to have people to talk to. I miss that.” As Owen finished talking, he let out a breath. He hadn’t necessarily meant to get that candid. The words all just kind of tumbled out. He was hoping he hadn’t gone too far and made Amelia uncomfortable.

To his relief, she smiled. “I just hope we haven’t been too much trouble for you. We can really be a handful sometimes. I don’t want us to give your home more liveliness than you intended when you offered to let us stay there.”

“What? Amelia Shepherd? A handful? No, that can’t be!” Owen said with mock surprise, placing the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel to his chest. He was rewarded with a slap to the chest as Amelia giggled.

“I was trying to be considerate, but then you had to go and be snarky,” she whined. Owen and Amelia both smiled good-naturedly, laughing a bit before settling into silence as they headed down the streets of Seattle.

After another several minutes of silence, Amelia glanced up and noticed that they weren’t far from the hospital. She took a deep breath and glanced out the window before she began speaking. “You know, after the plumbing is fixed and we head back to Mer’s house, you can call me if you’re lonely. We could hang out. As friends, I mean. We could hang out as friends. You know, just two friends who might sometimes get a little lonely and just want to spend some time with somebody else, having dinner and chatting or whatever. If you want. We could do that if you want. But if that would be weird then forget I said anything. Because I know that it might be kind of weird to hang out with your ex-wife like that. I totally understand. Completely.”

Owen was half-tempted to let Amelia continue to ramble because it was cute and he missed it, but he decided to be merciful and cut her off. “I’d really like that,” he said, turning to look at her as he smiled softly.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling into the parking lot of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital.

“I think I would like that too,” Amelia said quietly.

Owen pulled the truck into the parking space, and he and Amelia turned to glance at each other as he shut off the engine. Their eyes lingered for just a moment before they both climbed out of the truck and headed into the hospital. As they walked into the physicians’ lounge side by side, they ran into Meredith and Maggie in the doorway. Meredith leveled Amelia with a reproachful glance while Maggie just stared at the two wide-eyed. “Amelia, I’ve told you a hundred times: you need to get yourself going in the morning and be on time for carpool. We can’t just wait for you all the time. We have places to be, and the world doesn’t stop for you.”

Meredith continued out the door without waiting for Amelia’s reply. As the door dropped shut behind Meredith and Maggie, Amelia glanced at Owen and let out a small giggle. While she knew that perhaps she should’ve felt bad about being late for carpool yet again, she couldn’t help but be glad they had left without her.

[a-kabby-k-fanfictions]

The life we deserved

AO3

Tumblr

Summary : (4/?)

“I…I know that it sounds crazy, but, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I don’t belong to this world, I’m not this woman on the pictures. Even if we look the same, I know that’s not me,”

When Season 1 Abby wakes up in a world where she lives on earth and worst of all, where she’s engaged to Marcus Kane…

Abby had spent the rest of the day in her bedroom, safe from Kane’s wounded look. She had been sitting next to the window for hours, staring into the distance and thinking again that there had to be a logical explanation she still hadn’t discovered.

For almost her entire life, she had been dreaming about being on Earth. Her parents had told her stories about a world made out of shades of green and blue, a world with a sun and where rain fell from the sky. During her years as a child all those stories had sounded like a fairy tale or a dream, but as she grew up she realized that she would never live on Earth, neither would all the people she knew. All of them and the next two generations would remain stuck in space and they would never experience the warmth of sunlight only the coldness from living in space. Yet, inexplicably, here she was, as she looked at a squirrel running on the lawn, feeling the sunlight stroking her skin through the window and smelling the scent of an October evening. This was insane, totally insane.

When the sun started to go down, Clarke had come to tell her that the dinner was ready. At first, Abby had said she wasn’t hungry, but the rumbling of her stomach had betrayed her and her daughter had practically dragged her downstairs.

That was the only reason why she was now sitting at the kitchen table, facing Kane and between Clarke and Bellamy. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Octavia staring strangely at her between two mouthfuls. A heavy silence was lingering over the room and only the sound of the cutlery resonated from time to time.  

"This is really delicious," Bellamy said tentatively after a while, shifting slightly in embarrassment on his chair.

"Yes, it is," Clarke agreed with an exaggerated nod. "Do you like it mom?" she asked and Abby swallowed hard at the sight of her almost untouched plate.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, but all these new flavors and textures on her tongue were really strange.

"Yes," she replied nonetheless before taking another bite.

Kane was now staring at her with a blank expression. As their eyes met he lowered his gaze and cleared his throat.

"You like salmon," he started to say and for a second she thought he was blaming her, but he kept talking. "Preferably with white wine, but we finished the last bottle last week. You always drink two glasses, one during dinner and one when we’re doing the dishes.” he told her calmly while staring at his plate. "I used to garnish the salmon with fennel, but even though you never said anything I knew you didn’t really like it so I started to use chives," he kept explaining before looking up at her with a shy smile on his face.  

Abby felt her stomach clench a little without knowing why. Clearly, this man, kind and cute, couldn’t be the Kane she was fighting every day on the Ark. He looked exactly like him, except for the beard, but he didn’t act like the cold and strict man who had arrested both her husband and daughter.

She pursed her lips and gave him a little nod. In a way, she suddenly felt sorry for him. She wasn’t the woman he thought she was and no matter how hard he tried to bring back her memories, she knew it would never happen. The memories he was talking about had never existed in her mind. The only ones who were engraved in her memory were made of space, loss, and pain.

"You also like to drag us to the marketplace early in the Sunday morning, but if you have forgotten that as well, I won’t be complaining," Octavia said abruptly which won her a glare from Kane.  

Bellamy and Clarke seemed to freeze, their fork hanging in front of their mouth. Everybody seemed to wait for her reaction. It could have been inappropriate, joking about amnesia wasn’t the best kind of joke, but Abby felt her lips stretching up in a smile.  

"Duly noted. No more marketplace on Sunday morning," she finally answered with a chuckle and everybody seemed to relax.

Octavia smiled at her and then turned her head toward Kane, giving him a look which sounded like a cheeky "See?" The latter slightly shook his head in annoyance and went back to eating.

The rest of the dinner went better after that. The kids talked about their day and the coming week. The girls teased Bellamy about his "just-an-insufferable-police academy-partner", a girl named Echo and in return, the boy snitched on Octavia and stated that she was texting a guy named Lincoln which made Kane frown. Abby didn’t know who he was, but she understood that he was older than the teenage girl and already in college.

"Okay, I don’t have the strength to deal with that tonight," Kane breathed out as the kids left the kitchen in a barrage of insults.

Abby chuckled a little and started to clear the table. Without the kids, the atmosphere seemed to become tense once more.

"You should go to bed, I got this," Kane told her softly, reaching for the glasses she was holding.

"No, it’s okay," she declined with a little smile before walking toward the sink and turning on the water.

"We have a dishwasher," he informed her almost in an apologetic tone, opening the door of the machine next to him.

"Oh, well...," she breathed, taking back the glasses from the sink.

"You could pass me the dishes and I’ll put them inside?" he proposed and she agreed with a nod.

They started to load the dishwasher silently and Abby felt a question suddenly burn her tongue. She didn’t want to inquire about things the other her was supposed to know, she didn’t want to see the pain taking place once again on Kane's face, but the curiosity was too strong.

"Who are they for you? I mean Octavia and Bellamy?" she asked him and she saw him freeze, still bent over the door of the machine.

On her reality, she knew who they were: the Blake sibling. Octavia was the girl who had hidden herself for sixteen years under the floor and Bellamy was the one who had tried to kill Jaha. Their mother had been executed for having had a second child and they both had landed on the earth. Nonetheless, clear beyond recollection, Abby didn’t remember any link with Kane.

The latter stood up and leaned against the counter, staring into space.

"I’m Octavia’s father," he answered after several seconds. "Bellamy is her half-brother," he added still without looking at her.

He broke off momentarily and turned around to open a cupboard. "Sixteen years ago I met a woman at a law convention in New York," he kept telling her, taking out a bottle of brown alcohol. Cognac, Abby read on the label as Kane filled a glass. "She was the barmaid. I flirted with her and then we ended up in my room," he said, shrugging lightly. "She left while I was showering. I didn’t know who she was and to be honest, I didn’t care at that time, it was just a one-night stand," he confessed before taking a sip of alcohol and winced slightly. "In June 2016 I received a letter from a law firm, I was convened for a will opening," he kept going, his face darkening. "I found out that this girl was named Aurora Blake and that she had two children, and that one of them was biologically mine," he said and finished his glass in one go. "She died of liver cancer and named me legal representative of Octavia," he said, putting down the glass on the counter.

Abby remained speechless. Clearly, she hadn’t expected something like this. She would have wanted to say something kind or comforting, but she was too stunned. All she could do was point at the bottle.

"Can I have some?" she asked, her throat suddenly dry.

If she thought that this world was already crazy, imagining Marcus Kane as a father was even crazier.

"I...I don’t think it’s a good idea," he told her before pressing his lips together in an embarrassed smile.

"Probably not, but still...Can I have some?," she insisted.

Kane stared at her a few more second and then surrendered. He let out a deep sigh and grabbed a second glass to fill it.

"Just so you know, you don’t like it," he informed her with a grin as he handed her the drink.

"Let me judge of that," she retorted with a hint of defiance in her voice as she took the glass.

She brought the amber liquid closer to her nose and smelled it. It wasn’t bad. Well, how could it be worse than the moonshine they had drunk on the Ark anyway? She took one last look at Kane and cursed him quietly because of that irritating smirk which was tugging at his lips. The same which was plastered on his face each time he was ready to prove her wrong during a council meeting.

She put it to her lips and took a sip. It wasn’t a hard alcohol, far from it compared to the moonshine, but still, she couldn’t help but wince with disgust. The taste was nauseating and seemed to stick on her tongue. She swallowed it anyway, but failed to hold back a shudder.

"So...?" Kane mocked her, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up," she retorted, rolling her eyes, but with a tiny smile at the corner of her lips.

He smiled at her back and reached for her glass. Very naturally he brought it to his lips and drank. Abby stared at him, thinking that this was something that Jake used to do too. Drinking from each other’s glass was such a couples thing that she couldn't help but felt a little ill-at-ease.

"I have some work to do tonight, but I can go get what I need for the night right now in the bedroom if you want to go to bed," he offered her as he put the empty glass in the dishwasher. "I’m going to move into the guest room," he informed her and even if he tried to say it on a neutral tone she noticed a hint of sadness in his voice.

She looked down and nodded as a wave of guilt washed over her. She could feel how hard it was for him, how miserable the situation made him, but there was nothing she could do about it. This Marcus seemed to be a good man and he didn’t deserve what was happening, but still, she wasn’t who he thought she was.

"I can take the guest room as well," she offered shyly but he immediately shook his head.

"No way. You need to rest and the mattress is a piece of crap," he objected firmly. " To be honest, I think it’s the only reason why Raven doesn’t live there," he added jokingly, but Abby didn’t get the joke and raised an eyebrow. "She’s Bellamy ex-girlfriend. They were dating when I met him and Octavia," he explained. "She’s been through a lot too, and well... Even if they broke up I can almost say that we have adopted her too," he said and then chuckled slightly.

"I didn’t know you have a spot for children," she commented, but realized too late that she wasn’t speaking about him, but about the other him. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have...," she hurried to apologize, not wanting to bring back the subject he wasn’t ready to hear.

"Who am I?" he asked her suddenly before shaking his head. "I mean, in the...world or whatever it is you think you remember?" he specified, rubbing nervously the back of his neck.

Abby swallowed hard and looked away. She didn’t want to answer that question. She didn’t want to hurt him more than she already had today. What could she say anyway? "You are the man who asked for my husband’s execution? Who came to arrest my daughter? A heartless man I hate so much that every time I look at you I desperately want to punch you in the face?" Telling him this wouldn’t help and in a way, she wasn’t even sure that it was still the truth. She was mad at him. Yes, she was really mad at him, but did she truly hate him? In the end, things were never as simple.

"It doesn’t matter," she replied, trying to dodge the question.  

"Did he-- did I hurt you?" he inquired, his voice shaking slightly as he took a step toward her.

He reached for her arm and this time she didn’t pull back. She looked up at him and the look on his face, hurt and concern, made her heart clench in her chest.

"No," she sighed. "No, it’s just that...that we have a complicated story that’s all," she told him, offering him a shy smile to reassure him.

Kane took a deep breath and nod. He didn’t seem convinced and his hand remained on her arm. Her gaze fell upon it and she pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to push him back, but this kind of touch from him made her still feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry," he mumbled, taking his hand away, probably alerted by the embarrassment on her face.

A heavy silence fell once more upon them.

"You were saying that you needed to take some stuff in the bedroom," she reminded him to change the subject.

"Yes. Yes, that’s right. Let’s do that," he said before hurrying to leave the kitchen.

About one hour and thirty minutes later she was back where she had woken up that very morning. She was lying on her back in the best bed she had ever had but she couldn’t sleep. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes wide-opened, her fingers tensing on the sheets. She could feel the fatigue creeping into every muscle of her body, the day had been exhausting, but she couldn’t sleep a wink. Not when she didn’t feel at home. Not when Kane’s scent filled the pillow next to hers. Not when she was unable to find a rational explanation for the world she was currently living in.

A wave of anger and despair swept over her and for no reason, she grabbed Kane’s pillow and threw it away violently. She didn’t want this life, she didn’t want to be stuck there forever. Even if the life on the Ark wasn’t easy, it was her life, it was all she ever knew. Clarke, her Clarke, was still out somewhere, maybe in danger and now it was much more than space which separated them.

Abby turned on her side and curled up under the sheets, tears starting to run along her cheeks. She wasn’t crazy and to prove that to herself, she started to think about her oldest memories. She could perfectly remember the softness of her mother, Iris Walters when she was braiding her hair before school. She could still picture her long and coppery red ponytail swinging in the air as she laughed at one of her husband’s joke. Aloïs Walters was known to be the best doctor of the Ark, but he was also famous for his jokes. He always knew how to put a smile on his patients’ face. But unfortunately, his sense of humor hadn’t been able to save him or his wife. Iris and Aloïs Walters had been sentenced to be floated when Abby was sixteen.  They had been convicted of embezzlement of medical supplies. They hadn’t even tried to deny it, arguing that the non-essentials workers also had the right to seek medical attention. This life was real, it couldn’t be otherwise not when she could still feel the pain it had left in her heart. The picture of them, hand in hand, standing in the airlock still haunted her, just like the picture of Jake, standing in the same place twenty years later. Everything was real, the good and the bad. Her scars didn’t need to be visible to exist. They were there, branded into her heart and soul.

Abby remained awake for hours, her whole body shaking with sobs. She was so focused on her pain that she didn’t hear the quiet knock at her door.

"Abby?" a soft voice called out to her in the dark as the door opened.

Abby froze in place and held back her tears. She feigned sleep, hoping it would make the intruder go away, but it didn’t work.

"Abby, are you okay? I heard you crying," Octavia insisted as she took a few steps inside the bedroom.

"I’m fine," Abby answered, pulling the covers over her head to muffle her curbed sobs.

"Yeah, well, you don’t look like it," the girl said. "Do you want me to get Kane?" she asked tentatively.

"No," Abby exclaimed as she sat up curtly. No, she didn’t need Kane nor anybody else. All she needed was to fall asleep and to wake up on the Ark, to get back her real life. "No, it’s n--," she started to refuse again, but she cut herself off when she noticed Octavia’s outfit in the moonlight. She was wearing a leather jacket over a little blue top which didn’t hide the lower part of her stomach. Her pair of low waisted jeans were kept in place by a belt and her face was covered with makeup. "Wait, why aren’t you sleeping?" she asked suspiciously, her maternal instinct taking over her self-pity.  

Octavia immediately bowed her head and ran a hand through her hair.

"I...I was just...," she stammered. "I was going to the kitchen. I needed a glass of water," she finally asserted, falsely confident.

"And you needed to change for that?" Abby asked her, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

The teenage girl stared at her for a second and then let out a deep sigh.

"Well, okay, okay, you got me," she said, raising both of her hands in front of her as a sign of surrender.

Abby tilted her head and pursed her lips.

"Does your father know that you sneak out?" she asked severely.

"He’s not my father," the girl spat sharply without wasting a split second.

"Well, he says he is," Abby told her, guessing that the teenage girl might have difficulty with accepting her new life.

"The fact that he banged my mother sixteen years ago doesn’t make him my father," Octavia retorted bitterly with a hint of defiance in her eyes.

Abby choked a little, surprised by such coarseness coming from a so tiny girl. She opened her mouth, ready to reprimand her, but the sound of a car stopping in front of the house drew her attention.  She pushed the covers back and get up from the bed to walk toward the window.

"I guess that those are your friends," she said as she glanced at the two people in the car.

Octavia crossed her arms over her torso and rolled her eyes.

"I need to go tell them that I’m not coming along tonight," she mumbled as she turned around.

"No need," Abby snapped. "I’m sure they’re smart enough to figure it out on their own when you won’t show up," she added with a pinched smile.

Octavia gave her a dirty look over her shoulder and then left the room, still muttering.

Abby looked back at the car in front of the house and listened carefully, wondering if Octavia would go back to her room. The stairs were close to her room, but she wasn’t sure that she would hear the footstep so she sat on the edge near the window and stared at the car. Abby leaned against the wall behind her and kept watching through the window even after that the car had left the area. There was no way Octavia was sneaking out tonight, not on her watch.

Abby stayed awake most of the night, but after a couple of hours, her fatigue got the better of her and as her head slumped against her shoulder, sleep finally overtook her.

[chocobroobsession]

Comforting the Broken

Author’s Note: So I wrote this a few weeks ago when I was having one of my “depressive episodes”. I have a tendency to let a lot of things get to me and then I bottle it up until it explodes. Add that to depression, and welp, talk about a shit storm. This is just a fluffy, Ignis X fem!reader I wrote to make myself feel a bit better.

You felt like you were drowning. Drowning in depression. Stress. Anxiety. You name it. It had been building for quite some time, but you bottled up your feelings and kept going. You didn’t have time to deal with any of that. You had your dream job, your amazing boyfriend, Ignis, your life. You barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone deal with negative feelings. You could feel the cork slipping out though, and try as you might to shove it back in, you knew it would end up shooting out and all the negativity would hit you at once. And it did.

You were barely able to eat. That was the first bad sign. All of your life, you’d been a stress-eater, so loss of appetite meant that you had gone off the deep end. You found yourself sitting at your desk at work trying very hard not to just burst into tears. You could barely focus on the task at hand and your thoughts were becoming incoherent. Usually the start of one of your depressive episodes was insidious, creeping up on you little by little until you broke. This time, the onslaught caught you off guard and the dam came crumbling down. One minute you were sitting at your computer typing, and the next you were running to the bathroom to throw up.

You hadn’t eaten, so all you did was convulse and dry-heave. The tears seemed to spew forth as though your eyes were geysers. How did you manage to get yourself into this situation? You leaned over, clinging to the toilet for some time before attempting to compose yourself in the mirror. You slowly ambled over to your desk where your boss was already waiting. He sensed that you were unwell, and gently told you to go home for the day and get some rest. You simply nodded, packed up your bag, and trudged out to your car. You didn’t remember the drive home, but you miraculously made it to your apartment and collapsed on the bed, fully clothed, and cried yourself to sleep.

Ignis had been trying to reach you all afternoon. You normally texted him during your lunch break. When you hadn’t done so, he messaged you, checking up on you to see if things were okay. He had noticed that you hadn’t been yourself lately, but he never pressed you into talking about your problems. He’d simply ask if you were well and if you needed to get anything off of your chest. You didn’t want to burden him with your issues, so you continued to put on a fake smile and tell him that you were just a little stressed but you were managing it. You’d thank him for being so sweet and concerned and then change the subject. Ignis knew better, but he wasn’t about to force you into anything. Still, it bothered him to see you put on a brave face when he suspected you were secretly breaking inside.

He assumed you were busy and that’s why you hadn’t messaged him, but he became worried when you still didn’t contact him around the time you usually got off work. It was very uncharacteristic of you to go so long without checking in with him. He adored the fact that you liked to call him briefly just to hear his voice and send him funny messages throughout the day to keep him from getting too stressed and caught up with work. When you ceased to do so that day, he knew something was wrong.

You woke to the sound of your front door opening. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand and marveled at the fact that you slept for five hours. You hadn’t gotten that much sleep in days. You’d been averaging about three and a half a night thanks to a bout of insomnia. You were still groggy and weren’t sure why someone would be coming over, until you heard his voice. That’s when you remembered that your boyfriend had a key and had let himself in. “(Y/N)?”

“In here,” you grumbled. You weren’t sure that he heard you, but you were unable to speak any louder.

Ignis walked into your bedroom and found you laying on your stomach, face buried in your tear-stained pillow. “(Y/N)? Darling, are you ill?” He spoke in a soft voice filled with concern. He slid onto the bed beside you and lightly touched your shoulder. You were awake at this point and a feeling of shame washed over you. You didn’t want your boyfriend to see you in such a disastrous state. Here he’d been trying to help you for weeks and you’d been lying to him and pushing him away and now your façade was cracked and he would see you for the broken thing you were.

“Not exactly…”you answered. “I mean, I sort of threw up at work and left early and came home and crashed, if that’s what you want to know. But I’m not exactly like, sick, so to speak.”

“(Y/N)…” he soothed. “I know you haven’t felt up to par the past few weeks. You were reluctant to talk about it and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I feel like I should have done more for you. I apologize.”

He tenderly massaged your shoulders and neck and you could feel the guilt washing over you. You should have just told him what was going on. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if you had. You slowly rolled over to face him. He sat there and took in your puffy, sad eyes, splotchy face, and trembling lips and just broke for you. “Oh, Love. I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this.” He held out his arms to you and you immediately rose up, crushed yourself up against him, and started bawling.

You couldn’t control the waterworks. You thought you had cried yourself dry when you passed out, but you had apparently been holding back another flood. You sobbed and you sobbed, soaking the front of his shirt as you buried your face in his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head and rubbed circles into your back. “It’s okay, my love. Let it all out,” he assured you.

You lost track of time as you cried, but eventually the tears ceased. You pulled away from his embrace slightly to look into his face. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you before what was going on. I just…couldn’t. I thought I had it all under control, but really I was just bottling everything up, pushing it back to deal with it at a later date. I should have known it would all come crashing down on me at once” you explained.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this. If I could take away all of your pain, sorrow, and stress, you know I would do so in a heartbeat, don’t you?” He asked.

“I know,” you admitted. “You are the sweetest man in the world and you tried to help me, but I had to go and be stupid and push you away. I shouldn’t have. I’m literally the worst sometimes.”

“Love, don’t degrade yourself so,” he tsked.

“Okay, so I’m not stupid or the worst person ever I guess, but what I did wasn’t wise,” you corrected. “It’s just…work has been more stressful than usual. I told you how I took on some extra projects, and I apparently overloaded myself. Then, to top it off, I started stress-eating again and I noticed I was gaining a few pounds, so I started feeling insecure. Then, the depression was starting to come on strong for whatever reason and all of these things compounded and gave me insomnia. I haven’t been sleeping well even when I did sleep and that just added to the stress, and then it was just this never ending cycle and I started feeling like I was drowning. I didn’t tell you because I thought maybe it was just temporary and I really didn’t want to worry you. You have so much going on with work too and with Prince Noctis. We haven’t gotten to spend a lot of time together lately so I didn’t want to ruin our nights together by complaining or being a buzzkill.”

“(Y/N),” Ignis began, “Do not worry about me. I appreciate the fact that you make my feelings a top priority, but your feelings need to be a priority as well. You are not a burden to me. We’re in this together. If something is bothering you, you can tell me. I may not be able to fix it, but I can definitely listen and offer advice if you wish. If all you desire is someone to vent to, then I’m your man. I will do everything within my power to assist you in any way that I can because I love you and your happiness is important to me.”

Happy tears trickled down your cheeks as you listened to his confession. “Thank you, Ignis. I love you so much. You’re the kindest man and the best boyfriend a woman could ask for.” You hugged him tightly and sighed into his shirt. It was still damp with your salty tears, but you could still inhale his scent, which was rather comforting.

He pulled your chin up to look into your eyes for a moment before leaning in for a soft, loving kiss. “Is there anything else you wish to talk about?”

You went on to explain more details about your troubles as of late, and he listened intently while playing with your hair. It was relaxing and calming. He gave you some advice about handling stress and offered to prepare you some lunches for the rest of the week so you would have one less thing to deal with. You marveled at him. You both had busy schedules, and yet he wanted to take the time to ease your burdens. You were so in love with that man.

After a while, he offered to make a light dinner for the two of you. You were never one to turn down his exquisite cooking, so you got up and followed him into your kitchen where he made soup and grilled cheese sandwiches—perfect comfort food after a long, emotional rollercoaster day.

When you finished eating and the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, you decided to make a selfish request. “Ignis?”

“Yes, Love?”

“Will you stay with me tonight? I know we both have work in the morning and I do feel loads better, but I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course,” he replied. “When I spoke earlier and mentioned that I would be here for you, I did mean it literally as well. “ He gave you one of his warm smiles that just made you weak at the knees. What did you do to deserve such a wonderful, loving man?

Ignis slipped into bed after you did, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. You stared up at him. “I love you Ignis.”

“And I love you, (Y/N). May you sleep well, and may tomorrow be a better day.”

You kissed his lips and turned around to be the little spoon. He curled around you, one arm under your pillow and the other wrapped around your waist. You quickly drifted to sleep and slept all through the night, waking up to your alarm clock. It was the best sleep you’d had in weeks. What made it better was the fact that you got to wake up to Ignis’s wonderful smile.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Just Yours - Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen - Running

A/N: This is kinda short, sorry. I know, I’m really behind. Let me know what you think. I’ve got exciting things coming up soon. I wish I was writing this whole story in one, long time, so it kind of sucks going piece by piece. Once I finish this whole thing, I’m going to edit it and turn it into something bigger. Keep posted. Word Count: 2,400 Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader Synopsis: The wrap up of the previous chapter and Patton’s case. Tags: @sweetsummertime99, @evs14u, @sergeantdodds, @gibbs274, @standing-in-a-downpour

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

“Your boyfriend came to visit me this morning,” Amanda said as she sat down. Barely comprehending what she said, you looked up at her. You still had a pen in your mouth from looking at the case file in front of you.

“That must have been nice. I didn’t see him at all this morning,” you replied. She smiled, but not in a friendly way. “Where did you see him?”

“He cornered me on my run.” Her face was nearly blank but you couldn’t stop yourself from starting to smile. “What?”

“Was he running, too?” 

“Yeah. I guess. He was wearing jogging clothes.” You smacked your hand down on your desk excitedly. Nick looked up from his work and smirked at you. 

“Damn. I’m mad I missed that. What did he come see you for?” you asked. She shrugged.

“Same old.” You nodded, knowing that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

“I’m sorry he bothered you,” you said. She shook her head.

“Don’t.” You smiled and tried to go back to your paperwork. Two things kept swirling through your head that kept you from doing that. One: Rafael in athletic wear. Two: Amanda’s realization that you were all there for her.

About an hour later, you were deep into your work again when your father and Rafael walked back into the precinct. You hadn’t even noticed that either were there until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up into Rafael’s face and he smiled a bit.

“Hey,” you said, spinning around. You noticed your dad standing behind him and smiled at him, too.

“How’d the meeting go?” Amanda asked before you could. 

“Fine,” Rafael said. His face said otherwise, but you hoped Amanda couldn’t read that. 

“Did he take a plea?”

“Nope,” your dad answered. She didn’t say anything, just went back to her work. You turned back to the two men in front of you, barely realizing that you and Rafael were already holding hands. 

“So now we prep,” you said, mostly to Rafael. He nodded. You looked over at your father and he smiled uncomfortably. 

“Benson in?” he asked. You nodded towards her office door and he walked over. When the door closed behind him you looked up at him. 

“Where’d you disappear to this morning?” you asked.

“I told you,” he said, dropping your hand and walking over towards the coffee pot. You stood up and followed him. He put his hand on the small of your waist as he took a sip of his coffee. You smiled and looked down at it curiously.

“You didn’t tell me that you went for a jog,” you said with a smirk. He smiled, too and looked away.

“Don’t laugh,” he said.

“I’m not. I am a little jealous.” He cocked his left eyebrow. “Maybe you could work out for me,” you said, thumbing his shirt underneath his coat. He smirked and tried to stop himself. He failed.

“I would love that. But not tonight. That’s actually why I stopped by.”

“To torment me?” He smiled, sort of opening his mouth. 

“No. To tell you that I’ll be working late. I’ve got to get this case perfect.” You sighed.

“This is why we need to get that office finished,” you said. He smiled and nodded. He kissed you before leaving. 

Rafael got home a little after ten. After leaving his office, he was still eager to go over his case, so he asked one of his co-workers to work on it with him. He had texted you that they were going to dinner, but you hadn’t responded. 

As he opened the door to the house, he saw Graham coming down the stairs. He jumped a little, startled at the presence of Rafael at the door. Rafael smiled and held up his hand to show that he came in peace.

“Hey,” Rafael said.

“Hey.” Rafael started pulling off his coat. He looked around the foyer but didn’t see Y/N anywhere. Graham took notice and laughed, mostly to himself. “You’re looking for Y/N.”

“Yeah,” Rafael replied.

“She was sleeping on the couch.” He smiled and walked with Graham into the living room. Sure enough, you were curled up on the couch. The tv was still going, and you were wrapped up in the dark purple blanket. 

“Has she been sleeping long?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I just woke up myself.” Rafael sat down on the couch and ran a hand through your hair. You moved a little, but still remained cuddled up on the couch. He looked up at Graham who smiled. “She’s out.”

“Yeah.” Graham laughed.

“She’s always like that.”

“I know. She makes big party plans and then falls asleep in the middle of a movie,” Rafael said, grinning. Graham was looking at him curiously and then nodded.

“You guys are cute,” he said. Rafael  smiled. 

“Thanks.”

“She’s crazy about you, ya know? Before she fell asleep you were all she could talk about.” Rafael resisted the urge to smile again. He failed.

“I’m pretty crazy about her, too,” he said, looking down at you lovingly.

“I know.” Graham sighed and looked around the room awkwardly. “Well, I should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Rafael said, standing. 

“Oh, wait, we left a pretty big mess in the kitchen,” Graham said, walking towards the kitchen before Rafael stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s already late. I can take care of it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Rafael said, leading him towards the door. “It’s no problem.”

“Thanks, man.” Graham slipped on his coat and opened the front door. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah you, too,” Rafael said, closing the door. He locked it and made his way back into the living room. He double checked that you were still asleep before he walked into the kitchen. It took him only about twenty minutes to clean up.

He was finishing loading up the dishwasher when he felt hands wrap around his neck. He panicked and moved forward instinctively. His fear began to fade when he heard giggling. Nails with purple polish on them were wrapped around his neck, and when he spun around he saw your smiling face.

“That was not cool,” he said, moving your hands down so they rested on his shoulders. You laughed some more and leaned in to peck him on the lips. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you said, smiling slightly, still groggy from sleep. “You cleaned up.”

“I did.” 

“Thank you,” you said, sliding your hand down to meet his, giving it a little squeeze.

“Of course.”

“Did Graham leave?” you asked, looking back at the living room.

“Yeah, just a few minutes ago.” You nodded. You looked at the stove and saw that it was nearly eleven. 

“Did you just get here?”

“No. Maybe half an hour ago.” You gripped his hand a little tighter and walked with him towards the staircase, flicking off the lights in the kitchen before you left.

“Why so late?”

“I texted you. I was still looking over the case.” You nodded and dropped his hand as you entered your bedroom. You started going through his things, pulling out pajamas for him. He came over and stopped you, taking your hands.

“Stop,” he whispered.

“Why?” He just shook his head and rubbed your hands lovingly. You smiled at him and he kissed your forehead.

“I can get it.” You sighed and went into your closet, pulling out your pajamas. After changing, you sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing lotion on your legs. You could hear Rafael brushing his teeth in the bathroom. He came out a minute later and walked towards you.

More accurately, Rafael pounced on you. He pushed you back on the bed with him and smiled at you. You giggled and leaned in to kiss him. His cheek was cold and just a little bit wet from brushing his teeth when you put your hand on it. He was tired, that was evident from his kisses. Or maybe you were tired. Or maybe you both were. Either way, your kisses were sloppy and slow and full of smiles. 

Eventually, you pulled away and ran your hand through his hand. “Are you ready for the case?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sure you are.” He grinned and kissed you once more before climbing off of you. You put your hair into a ponytail and pulled back your sheets. Rafael crawled in next to you as you snuggled into your pillow. He clicked off the lights and you were just about to fall asleep when he touched your back.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you and Graham ever date?” You rolled over and looked at him in surprise.

“No. Why?”

“No reason, really. He just said something nice about you and I just began to wonder-”

“Because people only say nice things about me once they sleep with me?” Rafael’s face hardened and he shook his head.

“No. You know that’s not what I meant. I was just wondering, because I know he really likes you.”

“He’s like a brother to me. A brother who isn’t my dad’s favorite,” you said with a smirk. Rafael frowned again and you laughed. You touched his cheek.

“You’re my favorite.”

“Thanks. You’re mine, too. Now get some sleep. You’ve got a lot going on tomorrow.” He nodded and kissed the palm of your hand softly. 

“I love you.”

“You, too,” you said groggily, quickly slipping back into sleep.

A few days later you were sitting next to your father in the court house. Your eyes were on Amanda as you listened to Patton allocute. For the past days of the trial, you were always watching Amanda.

Rafael came home the day after she told him everything that happened to her, and he was silent. He only responded with nods and shrugs. That night, he held you impossibly tight. 

Patton was escorted out and you all stood up. You smiled at Detective Taymor politely and looked over at Amanda. She tried to match your polite smile but failed, her discomfort showing through. She turned away a moment after. You all shuffled outside and met in the common area.

“Hey,” Rafael said, coming up behind you. You gave him a small smile as he put his hand on your back. 

“Nice job,” you said. He shrugged. Patton had caved. He caved and he was walking out of here. The doors on the other side of the courtroom opened and Patton was walking towards the exit with his wife. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, even your father. 

Mrs. Patton, however, smiled at you all. Southern people had two kinds of smiles, you decided. There was the toothy grin that they gave when they were genuinely happy, and the other was a crocodile smile. She gave the latter to you lot. 

“Cute jacket, darling,” she said, brushing your shoulder lightly as she walked past. You tightened your face in order to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. She walked away and you heard your father laugh. He was shaking his head in disbelief. Amanda had walked away at the same time. 

“Give me a minute,” you said to Rafael, although you didn’t look at him. 

“Of course,” he said as you started walking towards Amanda. 

“Wait up, Amanda,” you called. She stopped once she was in the adjacent hallway and looked over at you, biting her lip. There were tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. What are you doing tonight?” She shrugged. “Well, we should do something.”

“Yeah?” she said, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah. Liv said you’re taking time off for a little bit. I’d like to see you once more before then.”

“I don’t really wanna talk, Y/N.”

“We don’t have to. We can go get a drink or stalk Sonny’s Facebook.” She laughed and relaxed a little more. 

“That would be really nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But not tonight.” You raised an eyebrow. “I already have plans.”

“Okay. Another time then?”

“Definitely.” She started to walk away but you ran in front of her.

“I’m serious about this, ya know? We’re all here for you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Doesn’t mean that we don’t have to. We all know you can take care of yourself. Why not let someone help you out for a while?”

“I am. I’m taking a break. Might go see my mom.”

“Good. You’ll call if you need anything, right?” She nodded. “Cause you know we’ll all be there for you in a minute.”

“Unless you’re out jogging with your boyfriend.” You both laughed.

“That was a rare occasion. You’re the only one who has seen him like that.” She laughed and shook her head.

“I might not be so lucky.” You giggled as you came back into the common area in front of the court room. Rafael was talking to Nick intently, nodding at something he was saying. You smirked and looked back over at her.

“Nah, you are.” She smiled and bumped your shoulder slightly. You looked up at her and she did a half frown.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“Anytime.”

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, walking towards the exit. You nodded and waved. Nick and Fin followed her, while Liv broke off to talk to your father. Rafael looked up at you and started walking towards you. You started walking too, until you were both nearly running at each other. He hugged you tightly, picking you up off the floor.

“You did do a good job,” you said. 

“Thanks,” he said in a unbelieving voice. You took his hand and walked with him up to his office. He opened the door and started gathering up his things. You were fiddling with one of the frames hanging on his wall that you didn’t notice he had stopped. 

“Your jacket is cute.” You spun around and snorted. Rafael was grinning on one side of his face. 

“Thanks,” you said in the same tone he had used before. “Your jacket is cute, too.” He rolled his eyes, still smiling. 

“You should invite Rollins to do something,” he said once he had gather up all of his things, taking your hand again.

“I already tried.”

“She didn’t want to?”

“No. She already had plans, apparently.”

“So your night is free then?” You shrugged.

“I guess.” He grinned and gripped your hand tighter.

“Good.”