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jpegjade · 4 years

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Smile for the Camera - Spencer

it’s 2 days late but i havE A NEW FIC! i don’t really know what else to say this time so yeah here you go!

gender: not mentioned/neutral

type: fluff

warnings: none

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You hoped you weren’t going to be late. There was an accident on the highway when you were on your way over to Rossi’s house and you kept praying to whatever was out there for you to make it on time.

Pulling up to the driveway, you saw lights on in the house but the blinds were closed. so you couldn't tell if anything was happening. You heaved a big sigh and grabbed your camera bag.

“Here we go.” You said to yourself.

It was always a big production to go to weddings, no matter how small they are. Weddings were draining in the best ways. You loved seeing people in love but it was hard with how little was going in your life sometimes.

You got a text from Will that read, ’Just walk straight to the backyard when you get here. That’s where we will do the ceremony.’

You quietly walked to the back gate and gasped. The decorations were simple but beautiful. String lights, candles, lightly decorated chairs. You felt the urge to cry coming on but you held back. You had a job to do while everyone was gone at the end of the night, then you could cry out of happiness.

Click. One picture down. Click click. More photos loaded as you got shots in. This was the most calming moment, when there was no one around and you got to be by yourself and get your jitters out. The sound of the camera shutter was so loud in your head but so quiet when you worked.

“Well look who it is!” A southern New Orleans accent drawled from behind you as you wrapped up shooting.

“Wil!” You turned, opening your arms to hug your best friend’s fiance.

You and Will had always been reasonably close because of your bonds with JJ. You didn’t meet the people in her life often but you heard stories and when Will officially came into the picture, you were in love with his chemistry with JJ. You knew this day would happen, especially after Henry, it was only a matter of time.

“Are you ready, big guy?” You asked, taking in his dapper appearance.

He looked so nice that you knew JJ was going to cry when she saw him. Hell, you were going to cry when you see her and you get to see her before everyone else. Let’s face it… You were just going to cry over everything. Everything was cry-worthy because you knew it was all done in love. Everything here was about love.

“No. I mean yes, I get to call her my wife but I have been practicing my vows for an hour and I still don’t know what to say.” Will chucked as you smiled with him.

“I think you’ve got it.” You comforted him.

You were about to say something when someone yelled about JJ pulling up in the driveway. This was Will’s cue to greet JJ at the door with Henry. They arrived in separate cars so Will could get the surprise together but the ruse was that Will was picking up a specific wine as a gift to Rossi since it was his party and you always bring the party host wine. It was a ruse because in reality, Will got to Rossi’s place early to make sure that everything was up and running as smoothly as possible.

Suddenly, a group of people came walking out of the backdoor. You started taking photos of them coming out as if they were the bridal party, the bridesmaids and groomsmen who stand on the altar with the couple, but you knew they were the guests.

The first guy out of the door winked at you, causing you to feel your face get hot. Whenever people gave themselves attention through the camera, you felt like it was attention towards you because you were the person behind the camera. You often had to remind yourself that it’s all for the camera, not you.

“Hey, y/n!” Emily called as she grew closer to you. She was right behind the guy so you didn’t see her until she was standing right in front of you.

“You look really nice.” You said, taking a picture of Emily. She looked slightly bashful at the sight of the camera on her but she went with it anyway.

You met Emily before at a dinner party that JJ invited you to. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sat around JJ’s kitchen table drinking wine and JJ invited you over because she knew you could use the break to chit chat and be with people without being under pressure to mingle and make business connections like at weddings. You always thought she was a bit brash but you also appreciated how straight-forward Emily always was.

“Thank you. Are you going to photograph the wedding?” Emily asked as you walked to the middle of the aisle together. Emily was on her way to talk to someone else in the yard and you were waiting for JJ, Will and Henry to come out the back door.

“Yeah. Will asked me to do it. “ You smiled.

“I know you’ll do great. You always do.” Emily was genuinely complimenting you and it was your turn to be bashful.

Being a friend of JJ, she always had you take their family photos so she could post them to Facebook and frame them. Emily obviously saw your photos, along with JJ’s many friends and family, so she kept up with you.

Emily walked to her seat while you noticed Rossi and JJ’s mother walking to the back door. You followed at a distance, your longest distance lens ready to capture JJ’s face. All you could see was mouths moving but you kept the camera going until it hit her. click click click clickˆ. There was the recognition on JJ’s face about what was happening.

“Y/n!” JJ noticed you behind Rossi, who you knew as the rich older guy whose house hosted many dinner nights that you were often invited to but you were too busy with weddings and other events on the weekends to go. It was nice to actually attend for once.

“JJ!” You said, a big smile spreading on your face.

You can JJ hugged before her mom ushered the two of you off to a room.

“You knew?” JJ asked as you got pictures of her and her mom getting her dressed in that gorgeous gown.

It fit her so nicely that it was almost like it was made for JJ… Little did she know that you had a hand in making sure it was fitted to her perfectly leading up to the wedding. It was a challenge but you were able to figure out her measurements through compiling a series of images, some of her clothes, and a special 3D rendering program that Penelope helped program. It sounds easy but it was incredibly difficult to put together in a short amount of time to ensure that the dress was going to be a perfect fit.

“Kinda. It was a last minute thing, which gave me no time to spoil it.” You weren’t the best at secrets but you were by far better than Penelope. You learned that pretty soon after you met her for the first time.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to be here without you.” JJ said, her mom zipping her up finally.

You gave the two of them time alone while you went and looked for a good place to set up. You could feel the tears coming on as you closed the door to the bedroom but you took a deep breath. It was a happy day and you were just feeling overwhelmed. Weddings could be stressful and a lot to handle a lot of the time but they made you happy at the end of the day.

As you stood in the front row, waiting for JJ to walk down the aisle, you noticed a boy out of the corner of your eye, just talking to Emily. He glanced over at you for a moment, fixing his hair, before focusing on Emily again. You wondered if he worked with JJ…

The ceremony came and went. From JJ’s gorgeous dress under the stars to Henry and WIll looking nice and the photos of the first kiss, you couldn’t stop crying between shots. It was hard to see but thank the lord for autofocus because you wouldn’t be able to nail the manual focus through your tears. You had never seen her so happy, other than when you saw her in the hospital holding Henry for the first time, so this was an amazing occasion. You missed being a guest for a special moment like this but you would be sobbing if you weren’t doing a job.

As JJ, Will and Henry walked inside for a little bit for a private moment after the ceremony, you were left outside by yourself as everyone started to mingle. Out of sheer anxiety, you flipped through your preview screen with all of your shots on your camera. With JJ inside, Penelope at the snack table, and Emily dancing with a tall, commanding man with dark hair, you were left not knowing anyone.

You decided to go sit down at a table and take a break when you heard Henry’s laugh. Looking up, you noticed the cute guy doing magic tricks with Henry over by the table. You couldn’t help but stare at the two of them, a pang in your heart.

With all of your friends getting married or engaged, you found yourself getting lonlier. They were all pairing off and getting on with their lives while you were committed to your job. That was perfectly fine but your photos couldn’t talk back to you when you were alone at night, needing an emotional connection.

Click. Click. Click. You took more shots of Henry smiling from afar, pausing to look at the previews, before you went inside to get something to drink. If anyone needed a shot right now, it was you.

Two shots in, you heard a door closing behind you.

“You should say hi to him.” JJ said, smiling.

Instinctively, she was playing with her wedding ring. It was a foreign object on her hand so of course she would play with it between her fingers.

“I should not do that. I’m here to work.” You smiled back.

The smile was a little bit forced because you had this conversation with JJ before. You see a cute person and JJ encourages you to go for it. You shoot her down and tell her all the reasons it wouldn’t work out. The two of you laugh about it and move on.

“Spence is a nice guy.” JJ chuckled, looking out to the backyard.

“His name is Spence?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Spencer Reid is his name.” JJ corrected. “But I’ve always called him Spence when no one would give him a nickname when he first got to the BAU.”

“Oh, that’s cute.” You said, distractedly.

Looking over at Spencer, he was still playing with Henry. Another magic trick that piqued your interest as you tried to see how he did it. He was just too smooth because you couldn’t see the switcheroo moment.

“Go, talk to him! Take a break for a little bit. You’ve been working this entire time and I know the shots aren’t going to cure the lonely feeling.” JJ said, a soft smile on her face.

You thought about it for a second, slowly feeling the effects of the shots flowing to your head. It wasn’t enough to knock you off balance but enough to loosen you up a little bit.

“I just might.” You said, your resolve hitting you.

JJ smiled at you as you went outside to where Spencer sat. One. Two. One. Two. You counted your steps, looking down at your feet as you felt the nerves threatening to come back up. Where was the confidence you felt a minute ago? You could do this.

Just when you were about to open your mouth, Henry spotted you and came running up to hold your leg.

“Y/N!” He yelled, looking up at you.

In the second you paused to gain your balance and look down at Henry, you looked back up to see Spencer talking to the guy that winked at your camera in the beginning of the wedding. They seemed to be talking about something serious so you gave up and decided to dance with Henry.

“Hey buddy, will you dance with me?” You asked Henry, who was still clinging to your leg. You took your camera from it’s resting place on your chest and placed it in your shoulder bag.

Henry nodded his head and the two of you went out to the dance floor, him holding onto your hands and swaying off tempo. You were looking at Henry, who occasionally let go of your hand to push the hair out of his face, and sneaking glances at Spencer, who was starting to look deflated in his conversation. You wondered what he was talking about that made him deflate at a wedding.

“Mind if I cut in?” Will’s voice shook you out of your wandering thoughts about Spencer.

“Of course. I’m sure you guys should have a family dance.” You said, stepping away.

“I wanted to dance with you, not him.” Will chuckled.

Henry ran over to his mom, who was at the snack table with Spencer, while you and will had a dance. You didn’t even notice Spencer get up and move.

“This is beautiful.” You said, looking around. You noticed the air get a little chilly but you were still moving so it didn’t bother you.

“It really came together in time.” Will chuckled, knowing how much of a hassle it was to pull everything together.

“No thanks to you, of course.” You smiled.

Over Will’s shoulder, you could see JJ and Spencer still talking. They looked so light and fun. You wondered what they were talking about. You couldn’t see JJ’s face but Spencer was looking up at the stars until he wasn’t. Suddenly, he was making eye contact with you.

You felt your face grow hot as you looked away, Will’s voice calling you back from your thoughts.

“You should go talk to him. You’ll enjoy his… Quirks.” Will chuckled, continuing to sway with you.

“Quirks, huh? He’s that bad? Maybe I shouldn’t go for it…” You said, thinking about how your previous experiences with guys with quirks landed you more single than an amoeba.

“I think you would like him. He knows a lot about… Well everything.” He said as the song came to an end.

“Well, I’ll see. I want to get more shots of you, JJ and Henry dancing together.” You said, grabbing your camera out of your shoulder bag and taking a few steps back to capture Will smiling.

Click. Click.

You checked the images and were satisfied enough to move on… Almost.

“Can I borrow that?” Will asked, pointing to your camera.

“For what?�� You asked, genuinely curious what he could use it for at his own wedding when he literally paid you to take care of photos.

“I want to show JJ how I see her, with the help of your camera.” Will said, dreamily as the two of you stared at JJ and Henry dancing together.

“Okay… I don’t know what I’ll do now, though.” You nervously chuckled.

It was a little bit deflating to give up your camera. You really wanted a reason to talk to Spencer and you typically used taking pictures of someone as an excuse to actually talk to them. Without your camera, how are you supposed to do that?

“Here, I’ll be your wingman.” Will nudged you before you could realize that Spencer was walking toward the two of you.

Before you had time to react, Will put the camera up to his face and started taking pictures.

“This is harder than I expected…” Will muttered, watching you smile.

“What’s hard?” Spencer asked, standing arms length away from you.

The three of you stood in a triangle, staring at each other for a moment. You felt naked and defenseless against the situation without your camera. Will was trying to understand it before he went over to JJ.

“You know, the first photo of a person was an accident. So by taking pictures of me, you’re doing more than the first technical portrait photographer was doing, in terms of effort and intention. The art of photography really is a numbers game, if you think about it. Along the x and y-axis, you’re attempting to capture a moment of time on a plane of existence that is completely irrelevant to the numbers related to the…”

“Spence.” JJ said, seemingly coming out of nowhere. She smiled and shook her head as if the two of them went through that routine normally.

“Related to the plane of imagery.” You mumbled, knowing you heard that from somewhere but not sure where.

Will, JJ, and Spencer all heard you finish Spencer’s sentence, although it was natural.

“You listened to my ted talk.” Spencer said, smiling.

“That was you?” You asked, meeting Spencer’s eyes. They looked so pretty up close, when the light hit them a certain way.

“Yes! It was supposed to be a regular lecture but they were trying a new format and wanted to know if I would be willing to do it that way. I didn’t mind but it was hard to…” Spencer trailed off when he looked over at JJ.

“Will, I think we should let them work out the logistics of...cameras… While you and I hang out with Henry. The night seems to be winding down. I think there’s one song left before Rossi kicks us out.” JJ chuckled.

Spencer shifted on his feet as JJ, Will, and your camera went to the dance floor, where Henry was talking to Emily.

“Your name is Spencer, right?” You asked, rocking on the heels of your shoes.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” He said, looking at you with a small smile.

“Oh. You’re a doctor…” You said, trying to figure out how old he was.

“I’m not that old, no. I was accelerated in my learning as a child so I finished everything earlier than expected.” He said, seemingly reading into what you were thinking.

There was an awkward silence that fell between the two of you. You wanted to fill it so badly but you didn’t want to actually think about what to fill it with. You spent yet another night pining over a boy who wasn’t going to have any interest in you, just like every other wedding you go to.

“So… How about those stars…” You chuckled.

“Do you think… Maybe... Would you be interested in dancing with me?” Spencer was stumbling over his words as the last song of the night came on through the speakers. One of your favorite songs…

“Finally.” You breathed out before realizing what you said. “I mean yes, I would love to dance with you.”

Leading you out to the empty makeshift dance floor, the music played softly in the background as Spencer slipped his hand around your waist.

“Garcia said you would be someone nice to know.” Spencer said, swaying with you.

“I beg to differ but I guess I shouldn’t say those things to cute boys.”

It was different from dancing with Will. Dancing with Will was wasting time, just doing something to do it. Dancing with Spencer had a little purpose. The last song of the night wasn’t even slow but you and Spencer were the last ones on the dancefloor, just swaying in tune with one another. It was relaxing, if not excessively calming.

“You think I’m cute?” Spencer asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You don’t?” You followed up, genuinely confused at how he didn’t see it.

“Well the term ‘cute’ cannot be scientifically described although the golden ratio is believed to…” Spencer squinted at something past your head, causing you to turn around.

Behind the glassdoor of the house was the BAU, watching you and Spencer dance. As soon as they realized you were turning around, they all pretended to be talking to one another. It was a pretty bad attempt.

“Do they always watch you do stuff like this?” You turned back to Spencer and he solemnly nodded.

“That’s weird.” You said, glancing over your shoulder again.

Half of the team was giving Spencer a thumbs up, including JJ.

“What if we got out of here?” Spencer said, looking down at you.

“Hmm?” You asked, looking at his eyes. You noticed they were warm and inviting, soft even.

“You and I could get out of here. Get coffee, maybe?” He smiled slightly. It looked a little forced but that could be because he was nervous.

“RIght now?” You asked, lifting your arm as he slowly spun you around.

“RIght now. If that’s okay with you. If not, that’s fine. I get it. It’s like…” Spencer was still going when you cut him off.

“Let’s get out of here.” You said, “I don’t want the night to end with a last dance like this.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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what's your saddest hc about stevie?

I have so many. Buckle up.

Um, there’s nothing really serious, everything is fairly vague so I don’t think I can think of any specific content warnings but it is angst so be careful. There’s like one mention of sex I think too.

Basically, I cannot see him without some mental health issues. Specifically anxiety and depression and ptsd.

I also have a fic that will probably never see the light of day where Steve has OCD and it kinda goes into how his compulsions begin to take more concrete form after the Upside Down and the actual monsters and how he begins to develop new routines and tics that go into all of that. It gets pretty spicy.

But here’s a smattering of others:

After talking with Nancy in the alley in season 2 in his gym class, he skips the rest of the school day and cries in his car.

His mother has forgotten his name three times. He chalks them up to her having a lil too much wine, but it still hurts.

At the beginning of working at Scoops, Robin fucking hated him on principle and he was really distant from her because he felt he deserved it for how he used to act in high school

Steve hates his own company bc he wears such a strong facade with everyone in his life when he’s alone he doesn’t even know how to act bc he doesn’t even know who he is

He realized he liked guys from a young age and spent a very long time hating himself for it

He made a case for himself to go to the local community college to do some general classes and find what he wants to study before re-applying to a four-year university, but his dad told him he’d rather have a deadbeat for a son than have Steve embarrass him like that

In third grade, Steve accidentally called his teacher “mom” enough times that she became genuinely concerned for his home life and tried to arrange a meeting with the principal

He lost his virginity to a senior girl when he was a freshman, and he tried to ask her on a date the next day and she laughed in his face and he tried to swear off relationships (until Nancy and we all know how that ended for him)

He sleeps with his blinds closed because the pool freaks him out, but he also sometimes gets a weird feeling like someone’s watching him and he doesn’t know if that’s from the idea of a demogorgon out there, or the idea that Jonathan took photos through his bedroom window

He didn’t tell Billy he loved him until Billy said it first because he was too scared that he felt more for Billy than he did for him. Which means that they were a solid two years into their relationship and fully living together before either of them had the courage to say it

At the end of season one when he’s sitting next to Ted Wheeler, he was waiting for his parents, whom the lab had called some hours ago, to come and pick him up. They never showed. When he got home he realized that his mother had answered the call, but they decided that their trip to Spain was more important and went to the airport as scheduled instead

He lashed out so hard in high school mostly as a cry for help and attention because he didn’t know how else to get those things other than being popular and a bully

Keith has made him almost cry at work at least once a week

He didn’t go to senior prom bc he felt like it would just be sad, only to find out at school the following Monday he had been voted prom king as a joke, and he felt kinda relieved he didn’t go bc then he avoided that humiliation

Claudia Henderson called him a good boy to his face once and he nearly had a breakdown over someone telling him something kind about himself

He once had an idea that the only reason he doesn’t get in trouble at school is bc his dad donates so much money to the shitty high school, so he tested his theory by not doing any homework for a month and even going as far as to graffiti some of the lockers, and all that happened was one (1) meeting where the principal told him “I don’t want to have to call your parents” and nothing else. Steve knew if he failed his dad would blame him, but the schoolboard was worried that if Steve failed his dad would blame the school and pull out his donations and funding. Sometimes Steve thinks that’s the only reason he graduated

He once asked Nancy not to call him an idiot, because even if she meant it endearingly, it still hurt his feelings and she told him not to be so sensitive and he never brought it up again

Once Hopper arrested him and Tommy for being minors and drunk in public and held them overnight. Tommy’s parents came as soon as they could to sign him out and take care of the protocol I’m too lazy to look up but am sure exists, and Steve’s parents didn’t show for two days and Hop felt so bad for the kid he just let him off with a warning, throwing away all the paperwork. So technically, Steve has a clean record

He absolutely self medicates you cannot change my mind

Having dinner with the Wheelers was the first time he felt a proper family dinner, where you all talk about your day and bicker a lil bit. First time he had dinner with the Byers it was even more overwhelming because that’s how it feels to be a part of a real proper family

His favorite class he’s ever taken was woodshop. He’s actually really good at building things and figuring out how to bring an idea to life like that and visualizing how dimensions and pieces fit together. It’s the only class he’s gotten an A in but his dad told him manual labor is unnecessary and other stupid shit and wouldn’t let Steve sign up for the next level of the class

That’s all for now because this got LOOOOONG, but yeah. I bit of Steve angst for your troubles.

#steve harrington #harringrove #yikes writes #yikes headcanons #zest of lemon #there's one SUPER vague mention of steve losing his virginity but that's literally the whole sentence

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bondsmagii · 3 years

Note

Regarding what was lying in mom's bed three months after she had passed.

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Bonnie Jennings, regarding a discovery made in her mother’s bed three months after her mother’s death. Original statement given May 18, 2009. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Mum and I… we weren’t close. That’s probably an understatement. I suppose the correct word for it is that we were estranged, but that’s always seemed far too gentle for my liking. If I’m being honest, Mum and I hated one another. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but my mother was a difficult woman to get along with. She drove everybody away in the end, but not even in the tragic, oh, she can’t help it kind of way. No, she knew exactly what she was doing. She revelled in it, I think. Well, I know she did. I’m not sure what she got out of it, but she liked to… to hurt people, I guess. She got a kick out of it. She was never quick about it, never in-your-face, because that wasn’t fun for her. She was so insidious. She would draw it out, let it take its time, ensure you never had enough to directly confront her about it. She never had a kind word for anyone or anything, and especially not for me. You know, I absolutely hate it, because whenever I mention that my mother and I didn’t talk much people always assume it’s because of well, you know. Somebody like that, you don’t expect them to be accepting of these kinds of things, do you? They always assume I had the classic story of coming out and being booting into the street, but no. That’s just a tragic story that gets parcelled up and delivered out as sad little stories meant to tell everyone how brave we are, and how much we endure, and it always ends with a reconciliation or with us getting back on our feet, stronger for it. Really, that’s not what happens most often. Of course it still does, and I’m not denying that, but I think people need to talk more about the more subtle kind of dismissal we might face. When I told Mum I was trans, all she said was “alright”. That’s it. Just the one word. She didn’t want to know anything more about it, she didn’t want to ask what it meant. She was completely disinterested, but not even in the way that some parents might be – struggling to deal with the fact that they’ve lost a child or whatever crap they come out with. I’m charitable about it – I know it is a shock. I have a lot of trans friends with good relationships with their parents who reported that their parents did need some time just to get used to the idea, but I think that’s normal. When somebody has an idea of you and you tell them they’re wrong, and that you were never that person, it’s a shock. But Mum was so self-centred, so absorbed in her own existence, that she really didn’t care about anything or anyone else. It didn’t matter that her son was actually her daughter. It didn’t centre on her, so who cares? It was infuriating, because on the surface she looked like a model mother. She began using the correct name and pronouns immediately and didn’t slip up once. She advised me on clothing and hair and makeup and gave me beauty tips. She looked so supportive, but really it was just her controlling criticism repackaged. I think, in a sick way, she loved having a daughter. Now she was the expert, as the older woman, and she could boss me around and condescend to me even more. It was an absolute nightmare, but I’m not here to talk smack about my mum – even though I could quite happily do so all day. No, this is about what happened after she was dead and gone. You hear that? Dead. She’s dead, and she’s still causing me problems.

I hadn’t spoken to Mum for over a year when she passed. She never even told me she was sick. None of my business, I guess. It was just Mum and me growing up, and there was no extended family. As I said, Mum drove everyone away in the end. There was absolutely nobody there at all, and that’s why her body rotted in her house for months before anyone found her. She died in the winter, and it was so cold her body basically froze – she never left the heating on a timer, always turned it on manually so she could have more control over the cost. It wasn’t until the weather started getting warmer that neighbours noticed all the flies on the window, realised they hadn’t seen Mum for a while. They called the police, the police broke in, and they found the putrid mess that used to be my mother. Pretty messed up, right? Somehow I was still her emergency contact, because I guess there was nobody else, and so the police called me and broke the news and I was shocked but not really that upset. I mean, that sounds bad, but she’s been dead to me for some time, you know? Really it was sort of nice to know she was actually dead, because grieving for a living person – especially a person you never really had – is a very complicated business. Now she was dead, I thought I could finally just close that chapter. Of course it’s never that easy.

As her next of kin, I was responsible for her… estate, I suppose. That sounds so grand considering it was just a small semi-detached in rural Lincolnshire, but little though it was, it was mine. She never made a will, as I found out when I expressed surprise she’d left me anything at all. She hadn’t actually bothered, so by default it had all gone to me. I was living in Peterborough at the time, and Mum’s house was only in Spalding, so we didn’t live that far apart at all. It didn’t take long for my then-boyfriend and I to get in the car and head down there to see what all we needed to do. I wasn’t interested in keeping the house for myself, because why would I want it? Not to mention Henry and I had been considering buying a place together – later, when he proposed to me, he confessed he had been planning to pop the question that weekend but then they had to go and find my mother’s corpse, which was kind of funny in a morbid way – so we figured if we could sell the place it might be good money to put towards our own first house. Of course, there was the small matter of trying to sell a house where somebody had died, but I figured it wouldn’t be that hard. It wasn’t a brutal murder or anything like that. If we could clean the place up nicely, I didn’t think it would matter too much.

Well, they hadn’t exactly told us how bad it was going to be. Did you know that the family are in charge of cleaning up a house after a death? I didn’t. I thought that would be something that would be covered, you know? By who I’m not sure, but I didn’t think it would be down to family members to scrub up blood and worse from the carpets or the walls or whatever. I at least thought the police would warn us, and maybe it just slipped their mind, but whatever happened or didn’t happen ended up with Henry and I walking into that house not knowing what to expect at all.

We soon got the idea. The stench was abysmal, even just walking up the garden path. Of course, the body itself had been taken care of, but a body that’s been laying in the house for three months leaves behind a lot of evidence, even if it did spend most of that time mostly frozen. Mum’s bedroom was just… it was a nightmare. Words cannot describe the stretch. Sweet and sticky and sickly; you can taste it more than you can smell it. Cloying. That’s the word that came to my mind. I always thought it was a stupid word, but in that moment I understood exactly what it meant. Cloying. I could feel it in my throat and in my nose, thick and viscous, like having a cold and needing to cough up phlegm. Thank God I hadn’t had anything to eat or I would have thrown up. Poor Henry wasn’t so lucky – though he just about made it to the bathroom. I suppose I’m just morbidly curious, because despite the stench I walked right in there, holding my cardigan over my nose. The covers were pulled right back from the bed and there was this incredible stain on the mattress, almost like a bruise in the way it faded into different colours and shades. Sort of like a bruise meeting a patch of rusted iron, black and deep red and dark purple and then lighter shades of brown and grey, all in the vague outline of a prone body at the darkest parts, spreading out like some messed up halo as it grew lighter. It was absolutely vile, but fascinating in its own way. At the very least, she had done us the favour of dying in the bed rather than on the floor, because the carpet would have been a lost cause. With this, I reckoned we could throw out the bed and everything on it, air the room out, and it would be good as new.

I needed a little fresh air myself, so I opened the windows wide and then went to see if Henry was alright. He was still retching pretty badly, so I snooped around the spare room a bit – nothing much to see, if I’m honest – and then decided to wait for him in the back garden, where I’d be able to take advantage of the breeze. I was sure I could smell that heavy stench clinging to my hair, and do you know for weeks afterwards I still thought I could smell it? It doesn’t come out, no matter how much you wash it. Anyway, I obviously glanced into Mum’s room on my way out, and immediately I saw something was wrong. The covers were all back on her bed.

Now, I know for a fact they weren’t there before, because I saw the big stain on the mattress. Now the covers were back in place, not tucked in or even overly neat, but definitely covering the bed and tossed around like somebody was curled up under them, asleep. Strangely I didn’t feel scared or even very confused. I kind of… stood there for a moment, wondering how I was seeing what I was seeing, and then quite quickly I just accepted that I was seeing it and there was nothing I could do about that, so I decided to check it out. It’s not something I would ordinarily do, I don’t think – I’m curious, but I’m not touch a bed covered in decomposing body juices curious – but for some reason I just walked in there and pulled back the covers. One fluid movement, like a mother trying to get her teenager up for school. I just yanked it back from the top, near the pillows, and then I finally felt the horror that should have come much sooner.

It was… maggots, obviously. They were everywhere, writhing around in a huge pile, twisting their way over the stain and out of the bedsheets and even crawling up my arm, where I was still holding the covers. I screamed and shook my arm frantically, sending maggots flying in all directions, and immediately they began making their way back to the mass on the bed. It was like there was some kind of gravitational pull dragging them back to that pile of wriggling, twitching creatures, and as I watched I became convinced there was some kind of method to their movements. They were arranging themselves, forming into a shape, and I only dragged my eyes away when Henry appeared in the doorway, looking alarmed. I realised then that I’d screamed, and I tried to play it down – in that moment I wasn’t overly surprised, now I’d had a second to think about it, because yeah, of course there are maggots. They like dead bodies, right? I guessed that after the body was removed there were probably a ton of them in the mattress itself that had wriggled up in search of food, though thinking about it again, I didn’t recall seeing any holes in the cover sheet or anything. I tried to calm down, but something drew my eyes back to the maggots – I think it was the way Henry was just staring at the bed, horrified in a way I’ve never seen before – and I saw that the maggots had… how do I even describe this?

They had sat up. They were sitting, and they were in the vague shape of a person. I could see a head, shoulders, the arms limply by the sides. There was a torso that joined on to the bend of hips and legs stretched out in front, over the bed, the feet disappearing into the covers that were still left. I could see the slight rise in the covers where the feet were. The maggots were still moving around, so the shape was constantly shifting, but I could distinctly see details beginning to emerge. Hair. The sunken pits where eyes should be. A gaping mouth that was opening and closing, a black void behind it, as though the figure was trying to say something. And it was. I could hear this strange voice, like an exhale of air, a voice that was barely there at all – but I knew it was saying my name. Bonnie. Bonnie. I could hear it as clearly as anything. In that moment, it was the loudest thing in the room.

I stumbled backwards, but it was as far as I could go. I was frozen, even as I watched the figure swing itself out of bed and get to unsteady feet. It stumbled towards me like a drunk, wheezing deep in its throat, and I thought it sounded like a laugh. I’m not even saying that with hindsight – it was laughing at me. It was my mother’s laugh, and in that moment I knew she was doing this. I mean, I don’t know if she was, because how could she? But in that moment I thought I knew she was doing it, anyway, and I was so angry at her. I was so damn mad at her, for dying in such a horrible way and leaving me with the mess, for all the stuff she’d pulled on me growing up, for every single thing she had done to me, the big things and the petty things, and now this! She couldn’t even die properly, she had to come back and terrify me and traumatise me and ruin everything! I screamed again, but this time it was just pure, animalistic rage – I’ve never heard myself make such a sound. I looked around and I saw the chair sitting in front of the mirror and I picked it up by the back and chucked it into the air, catching it by the back legs and swinging it at the maggot figure with everything I had. I don’t even know what good I thought it would do, because it was just maggots, but the figure disintegrated around the torso and the maggots scattered to the floor. The figure half-collapsed, just a pair of legs wobbling towards me, and I let out this manic laugh before I saw the maggots were already regrouping. Finally I gathered some of my senses and I turned for the door, yelling at Henry to run. He didn’t need telling twice. We both sprinted down the hall and I think we both jumped clean down the entire set of stairs – or it at least felt like that. We ran out into the street and I pulled my cardigan off and started jumping on it, because I was sure I could feel all those maggots crawling on me. Henry finally grabbed me and pulled me away, and we got into the car and drove off. Left the cardigan right there on the street.

We didn’t really discuss what had happened. I hired a cleaning company that specialised in that kind of clean-up, and they never reported any problems. The house was cleaned up good as new, aired out, all Mum’s stuff either sold or thrown away. Eventually the house sold too, even if it did take a little longer than I’d like. Henry and I got married, managed to buy our first house, and while we’ve mentioned it vaguely a few times we’ve still not really talked about it. I think we both probably mutually agreed that we must have been seeing things, and to be honest I let myself believe that for a while. I mean, there’s no way, right? But recently it’s just been bugging me, and I’ve been dreaming about it. It’s just been on my mind, and I can’t pretend that I didn’t see what I saw any longer. I don’t know if this will be of any use to you, or even if it’s the kind of thing that you go in for, but I thought I would write it down nevertheless. I do feel a little better now, weirdly. I thought reliving it all would make me feel worse, but I’m not going to complain.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Well. That certainly makes me wish I hadn’t eaten lunch before recording. It all seems mostly standard up until the sentient maggot hivemind, and if it had just been Mrs Jennings present I would say it’s possible she might have been mistaken. It’s a fairly specific thing to see, but given the circumstances and the inherent revulsion most people experience when seeing that many maggots at once, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the stress of the situation resulted in Mrs Jennings believing she saw something unusual. There is, however, one more thing included with this statement – a brief affirmation from Mr Jennings, which, while he chose not to go into detail, does affirm that everything in Mrs Jennings’ statement is true to what he himself witnessed. Of course, he wasn’t present with his wife for the entirety of the time period the statement covers, but he was there at the most important part. One person having such a highly specific hallucination would be a stretch, but two people experiencing the exact same highly specific hallucination is even less likely.

Tim contacted the current residents of the house that used to belong to Mrs Jennings’ mother, but they reported nothing at all unusual in the time they had been living there. They were aware of the fact a death had occurred in the house – just as well, really, as Tim was quite happy to tell them about it – but didn’t seem overly bothered. In fact, Tim reported that they seemed almost disappointed that the house hadn’t come with a resident ghost, though looking at Mrs Jennings’ description of her mother, I’m not entirely sure that’s the kind of ghost they would want to have to house share with.

Tim also managed to get in contact with John Atchieson, owner and operator of Atchieson Cleaning Solutions, a company based in Peterborough that, alongside general domestic and commercial cleaning jobs, also specialises in cleaning up biohazardous materials – crime scenes, accident scenes, natural deaths. The case of Mrs Jennings’ mother was found in their records, and Mr Atchieson could remember nothing unusual about it. In a rare stroke of luck, the employee assigned to oversee the clean up at the house was Mr Atchieson’s son, also named John; Mr Atchieson Senior was able to contact him and ask if he remembered anything specific from the site himself, but apparently there was nothing remarkable about the job at all – just a standard decomposition job, hauling away the hazardous materials and cleaning the room with heavy chemicals to try to get rid of the smell. Mr Atchieson Junior helped remove the mattress himself, and reported no maggots of any kind.

Given the lack of physical evidence I would like to claim that there is no basis to this statement, but considering the fact there are two witnesses and this wouldn’t be the first time that a being apparently made of some kind of larvae or insect has been observed wandering about, I’m more inclined to worry about where Mrs Jennings’ mother may have gone, if she was no longer in her bedroom.

End recording.

#tma #statement prompts #my writing #fakements #long post #anon #asks

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yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Text

SSA Hotchner: chapter 5 - childhood

TW: case-typical violence, case involving child abuse, description of abuse, panic attack, kiss *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 6,421

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two weeks had gone by before you had gotten a new case with the team. it had been pretty slow, something you were rather grateful for. but you could guess it was just the calm before the storm.

just being called in so early left everyone on edge as you entered the bau, drudging into the conference room to be briefed on the new case. you sat in the chair beside derek and spencer as you waited for penelope to enter the room.

"alright my friends this case isn't very bright," penelope greeted upon entering the room. "although none of what you do is bright. anyway, there have been three murders along the gulf coast of men. they are manually strangled and then... well, you can check that out on your tablets," she motioned as she took a seat at the table.

"they're thrown away like garbage," you spoke up. "he has a complete lack of remorse for these men."

"the manual strangulation suggests that the unsub is passionate about this kill," spencer added.

"they were only a week apart and the last death was three days ago," derek reminded us.

"which is exactly why we need to leave soon," aaron told the table. "wheels up in 30."

—

you sat on the chair across from the couch that spencer was sitting on. morgan was beside you as emily and jj were in the seats across the table. hotch and rossi sat facing one another.

"so there are ligature marks and bruising which suggests torture post-mortem," rossi stated as he browsed on his tablet, his face grimacing as he scrolled upon a particularly gruesome photo.

"maybe these men remind him of someone from his past that wronged him?" emily guessed, looking towards you for agreement. "or he could feel emasculated by these men."

"the guys he's killing don't scream "tough guy" to me," you shrugged.

"okay so back to the man that wronged him theory..." jj spoke up. "maybe he's warming up to this specific guy?"

"if that's true then he's going to wait until he perfects his kill," derek stated.

"and from the looks of it he still has a long way to go until it's perfect," rossi scoffed.

"we need to look into these victims lives," aaron interrupted. "figure out what overlaps with what. something about these guys makes the unsub want to kill them and we need to figure it out. i want emily, y/n, and spencer to go to the most recent victims house and talk to their wives," you three nodded in agreement. "rossi and morgan go to the morgue to analyze the body further. jj you're with me at the precinct to see what the locals know."

—

you sat in the passenger seat, theories running through your mind about what could have been going on that made them a target for such murder. each of the men had children and wives, a life waiting for them at home. they had good jobs, they were financially stable so they wouldn't have owed anybody money.

"whatcha thinkin over there?" emily asked, peering over at your clearly confused state.

"just how it doesn't make sense that these men were killed," you furrowed your brows. "they had a family, a life to go back to. it just... it's not right."

"that's why we're here," spencer spoke up from the back seat. "to figure out why this is happening and put the killer away."

"i know," you sighed, turning to look out the window once more. "... i know."

"we'll figure it out, y/n," emily placed her hand comfortingly on your thigh. "we always do," she gave you a smile.

"right," you have her a tight-lipped smile in return.

once you arrived at the most recent victim's, christopher taylor's, house, you both noticed how nice the neighborhood was. it was a huge, two story house with an equally large backyard with a pool.

it reminded you a lot of your childhood home - the late nights beside the pool, waiting for your dad to get back home with you brothers, long before dad turned to alcohol. and then the very same house was tainted with violence and screaming, fears and hiding from your own dad.

not now, you thought. i need to focus.

walking up to the door, you rang the doorbell apprehensively, a little nervous to meet the grieving family. after a few seconds, the wife opened the door with a, clearly fake, smile adorned on her face.

"hi," the wife, stephanie, greeted you. "come on in," she stepped aside to allow you three inside.

"thank you, ma'am," you thanked her as you stepped inside. "i'm so sorry for your loss."

"oh um..." she trailed off. "thank you, it means a lot," she guided you all to the living room. "please, uhm - please, have a seat."

you sat between spencer and emily as stephanie sat on a chair adjacent to the couch, facing you all.

"would you like anything to drink? water? tea?" she asked eagerly before a child came running down the stairs, making their way beside their mom. "what're you doing, love bug? mommy has to talk to the police," she said sweetly to the 6-year old child.

"when's daddy coming home?" he asked with a sad tone, but something didn't sit right with you.

"he's not," she sighed as she placed a kiss to his hairline.

"what?" he asked in surprise. "he's not coming home?" his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in shock.

"no, he's not, bug," she brushed his hair behind his ears, clearly trying to ground herself and not break down.

"here," emily spoke up. "why don't you go with ms. hotch and dr. reid and show them your room?" emily said excitedly to distract the child.

"yes! i just got a new race car i can show you!" he exclaimed as he jumped down from his mom's lap.

you and spencer gave her a smile as you got up from the couch, following the eager child up the stairs to his, rather large, room.

the room was spotless, not a toy out of place from his shelf as his bed was perfectly made. a little boy's room, especially one this young, would normally be a bit more disorganized. he didn't have any colorful art on his wall, no important pictures adorning his wall either. the personal aspect of his room was lost within the blue and yellow wallpaper, trapping his childhood and joy in the obvious restrictions placed on him by... not his mother.

she was loving and kind to him, she didn't fake her adoration for her child. so it was probably his dad, placing responsibility on him by making him be the "man of the house" at such a young age. but how far down did that responsibility go?

"hey james," you bent down to his level, speaking in a high register voice. "how about that car?"

"dad won't let me play with it because it's a collectible car but it looks really cool on the shelf!" he pointed up on the shelf to a level he wouldn't be able to reach. "super cool, right?"

"so cool, little man!" you exclaimed. "did your dad not let you play with these other cars?" you asked curiously.

"only at a specific time with his permission. he doesn't want me to break anything again, and neither do i..." he trailed off with big eyes, reliving the time he might've once broken an item.

"what happened when you broke something," spencer piped in, bending down to his level to talk in the same voice you had earlier.

"oh, that," he sighed as he sat down in the chair by his desk. "one time i was playing with a car i got for my birthday when he didn't tell me i could and then when i accidentally knocked over a vase in the living room, he wouldn't let me play with them for a whole week! then he started yelling at mommy for letting me make the mess so i told him it was my fault and he spanked me really hard because i was being bad. so now i don't touch my toys unless he says so," the boy shrugged.

"where did your dad spank you, james?" you asked l, apprehensive of the response.

"he spanked me with his belt on my back, but the bruises went away after a while," he shrugged.

you looked over at spencer, giving him a look that you shared. the little boy didn't know he was a victim of abuse. then that feeling filled back up inside of you... the feeling of fear and worry.

no, you thought once more. i have to focus.

"you won't have to worry about that anymore, buddy," you gave him an apathetic smile, rubbing his back gently.

"i miss my dad," he frowned, walking closer into your touch.

"i know buddy," you enveloped him in your arms, brushing through the hair on his scalp to try and calm him down.

because you understood the pain. you didn't know why your dad had been so cruel, but that didn't stop you from missing him after his death. the confusion, the mixed emotions. while you wouldn't have to face the harshness of his hand or the angry tone of his voice, you would never get to ask him why. why he was so angry all the time? why he would always blame his family for a rough case? why he ruined your childhood...

"hey guys," emily knocked on his door. "we can uhh... make our way out now."

"alright," you pulled back from james. "if you need anything, ask your mom to call ms. y/n, alright? she has my number."

"alright ms. y/n," james agreed, wiping the tears from his face.

"i know how confusing you must feel right now, james. but just know how much your mom loves you," you smiled. "and know that you didn't deserve anything your dad did to you. it's not your fault, none of it was."

"thank you," he grinned weakly before you stood up and left the room, not failing to give him a kind smile as you walked out of the room.

when you caught up with spencer and emily, you joined them in the car.

"christopher was abusive," emily said blatantly.

"he beat james and yelled at his mom because james had broken a vase," you informed emily.

"he would constantly abuse his wife, verbally and physically. she tried to deny it before she just admitted outright that he was violent and aggressive," she told you and spencer. "are you gonna be alright on this case?" she looked over at you.

"yea, of course," you chuckled before giving her a look and adding, "why wouldn't i be?"

"right," she nodded curtly. "sorry."

spencer wasn't stupid.

he was a profiler. he could pick up on your odd behavior. the way you comforted james was all too familiar to you, as if someone had comforted you that way as a child. and he heard the way you reassured james about his father's violence. while in the back of his mind all he could focus on was how great you were to the child, imagining you as a mother yourself, possibly to his children - which he knows is extremely premature - he couldn't help but profile how you had acted. but he also wanted you to want to open up to him about it, so he wouldn't bring anything up.

so he acted like he wasn't there.

—

"alright, so we're presenting the profile in a half hour," aaron announced to the team. "we need to emphasize the importance of keeping this under wraps. this unsub is killing for attention, we shouldn't give it to him because that would make him kill even more."

maybe you were anxious. scratch that. you were anxious. how were you supposed to catch a killer ridding the world of abusive fathers? an unsub who was abused himself and wanted to lessen the pain of wives and children? it just didn't make sense to you, which wasn't ideal since you had to catch the killer, no matter what it took.

"y/n?" spencer's voice broke you from your own thoughts, you hummed in response. "you alright? you were pretty out of it there."

"right... sorry," you chuckled. "i'm alright," a pitiful smiled displayed on your lips.

"are you sure?" he placed a gentle hand on your back before sitting in the seat beside you. "if you need to talk about it, now or later, i'm always open."

"thank you, seriously, but i'm alright," you assured him, placing a hand on his forearm.

he opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by morgan knocking on the door, announcing that they were preparing for the profile outside.

you walked out into the pit, helping set the board up with the information you had found out about the victims. you turned around, facing the entire police station, ready to tell them about the killer who was bound to go on a spree.

as your brother began speaking, you got lost in your own thoughts once again. wondering if you would have to kill the unsub. wondering what would happen to all of the others business fathers and families if nobody stopped their torment.

thoughts... memories... emotions flooded your memory. your mind was clouded by the past.

your heart began racing.

your vision blurred.

before you knew it, your feet were carrying you out of the building, trying to get yourself some fresh air. you sat down on a nearby bench and buried your face in your hands, between your knees. once you felt your breathing had evened out, you rose your head from between your knees to take a deep breath. you wiped your face if any remaining tears just in time, because spencer slowly sat down beside you on the bench, a pitiful smile on his face.

"what?" you huffed, placing your head back into your hands.

"you just..." he trailed off. "i know something's wrong, y/n. whether or not you'll admit it, which you need to do. pushing it all down won't help anything."

"i'm fine, spencer!" you shouted. "god, why can't you just accept that i'm fine? i'm alright. i'm totally fine with the fact that we have to imprison a guy who's killing terrible fathers and probably making the world a better place! i'm fine with the fact that the families are better off with those men dead! and most of all, i'm fine with the fact that my dad is dead and i don't have any answers as to why he..." you trailed off, sighing as you calmed down a little bit. "i'm sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," he smiled, placing a hand on your back. "look... i didn't want to say anything, but i think i know what's wrong."

you lifted your head to see him, "you do?"

"yea, i do," he reached over to wipe the tears you didn't know were still flowing off your cheeks. "you don't have to talk about it yet, or with me at all. but when it gets too bad and you need to speak with somebody just know i'm here."

you didn't really know what to say. you yelled at him and he's offering you support. what would've normally warranted someone getting angry and storming off made him kind and supportive.

"uhm, than-thank you," you leaned into his touch, eyeing his lips as he did yours.

you brought your hands to hold his forearms and cup the back of his neck. you pulled him in closer to your face slowly, both unaware of why you were doing so but feeling the need to. like a moth drawn to a flame, you had to have him. you had to know what his lips felt like against yours, what he tasted like. would he passionate, or gentle? maybe a mixture of both. regardless, you had to know. you had to find out.

and then emily busted through the doors of the station, leaving the two of you to jump to opposite sides of the bench.

"y/n," she greeted you, her brows furrowing when she saw spencer with you. "... and spencer... are you alright-y/n, that is."

"uhm," you cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck. "yea, i'm all good," you eyed spencer, who was staring straight at you, surely wondering what would've happened if emily hadn't came out of the building.

you almost kissed spencer. you wanted to kiss spencer. you still want to kiss him.

"spencer here talked me through it," you chuckled, nudging his shoulder slightly to draw his attention back to emily, away from you.

"yup," he gave a tight-lipped smile.

"oh, that's a relief," emily sighed. "well garcia called in the middle of the profile and said she created a possible victim list the unsub might target next based on the geo profile reid created."

"that's great! how long is the list?" you asked eagerly, leaning forward to show your engagement.

"there are 4 possible locations and because the unsub has been decreasing his cool-down period, we should all split up and go to each house to ensure their safety," emily listed off to the two of you. "i'm here to tell you how were splitting up. it'll be you two, morgan and i, jj and hotch and rossi will be by himself. there sending a few swat agents with each of us to ensure safety."

"alright. i'm assuming garcia will send us the address?" spencer asked.

"yup. they should be on your phones now," she confirmed. "we're still going to try and connect leads while separated, this is purely just a caution so we don't have any more victims while we're here."

"of course. that makes sense," you agreed.

"alright, well, you have the keys to an suv?" she asked, making sure you could drive yourselves to the location.

"yup, they're right here," you dig into your pocket and showed her the keys.

"so i'm gonna go see if morgan is ready to go," she announced as she walked back into the station, the two of you following behind to grab your go-bags.

when you arrived at the o'connell's home, you were quieter than anyone had expected. could anyone blame you? you were in the house of an abusive father in order to protect him.

"alright," the mother, julie, began, "i've set up the spare room for the two of you, if you decide to rest, that is. it's right by the front of the house, so if anything happens you would be right there."

"alright, ma'am," you smiled. "thank you."

"i'll be in my room if you need me; jonny is in his room, and my husband will be with me," she announced before walking up the stairs to her room that was adjacent to jonny's.

"i don't think i'll be able to sleep," you whispered to spencer once you had gotten into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. spencer sat down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your knee.

"okay," he squeezed with the slightest pressure, only enough to ensure you knew he was there.

"maybe that's best. so i'll be fully alert if the unsub gets here while you're asleep," you stared blankly at the floor, your feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

"you'll wake me up if he does come?" spencer asked for the reassurance; you nodded your head 'yes.'

you finally broke your attention from the floor and scooched up to the headboard of the bed, your back against it. you looked over at spencer who was just staring at you confused.

"are you gonna sleep or what?" you smiled before he returned the favor, scooting up to meet you on the bed, only he rested his head on a pillow.

after about two minutes, you felt his arm being thrown over your lap, moving you closer to him before he nuzzled into your stomach. he used his other arm to secure your position with him, sighing into your tummy contently. you brought your hand to his hair and began playing with it mindlessly.

you didn't sleep at all.

you were wide awake while tracing spencer's skin or playing with his hair. nobody came-not even a car drove by. spencer had woken up at one point, only for you to hum him back to sleep after ensuring that everything was alright.

garcia had gotten a list of the possible unsubs, everyone who had abusive parents, anger issues, and lived 5-10 miles around the comfort zone. you studied the files the entire day, not having a single break through. it was very dull.

the next night, however, was a bit more hectic.

you had been awake for over 36 hours, so you had been feeling that tired-high that kept you going. this time, you were reading a book spencer had let you borrow when you heard something at the back door. your phone was in your bag, which was in the living room. luckily, you had your gun beside the bed, like always. you maneuvered around spencer so you could stand up, wanting to be sure there was danger before disturbing him.

you recalled the facts of the case - the profile.

he would enter through the front door, clearly not this time since he had heard of the police presence. he would ensure the child's sleeping before subduing the wife in order to strangle the husband.

which meant you needed to go check on jonny.

you carefully trudged up the stairs, gun in hand as you made your way to his room. the door was cracked open, so you carefully peered inside. the man was hovering over the child, stroking his hair softly.

in order to ensure the child's safety, you backed away from the door so you could attack as he exited. you didn't expect the floor to creak - rather loudly - as you retreated.

you looked up to see the unsub wrangle jonny in his arms before you came through the door, gun ready and raised.

"let him go!" you sternly ordered as you realized who the unsub was.

michael burns.

his father had been so abusive, he not only killed his mother but almost killed him. he was 7 when he saw them get into a heated argument, his father ended up beating his mother to a pulp that night.

"no! i'm saving him!" he shouted back, pointing his gun at jonny's head.

you heard footsteps behind you, leading down the stairs. it was spencer taking the parents out of the house.

"do you really think killing him would be saving him, michael?" you asked in a soft, concerned voice.

"i wish someone had done it for me! it would've saved me all the pain!" he cried out, you felt his pain through his voice.

"i know you think that would've saved you from the pain, but how do you know what's best for jonny?" you asked.

"because i do!" he pushed the gun further into jonny's head, hearing jonny's whines echo even more. "put your gun down before i shoot him!" he ordered.

"okay, okay," you bent down on the floor, placing your gun down before you heard footsteps approach behind you.

"put the gun down!" spencer had ordered from behind you, you turned around to see him in a bullet-proof vest, gun raised directly at michael.

"no! NO!" he angrily chanted back at spencer.

"michael, focus on me," you put your hands out and up in defense. "just let jonny go, alright. we'll make sure his father pays for what he's doing to him and his mother."

"no you won't! it never works!" he held onto jonny tighter.

"i promise you, i promise, that we will make it work. we will make sure that jonny is never hurt again. we'll make sure his father goes to prison for a long time, alright?" you slowly walked closer to him, so he pointed his gun at you instead of the child. "see? that wasn't so hard, right?"

"stop it!" he ordered so you stopped your movements forward.

"it's alright," you softly announced before asking. "me for him, alright? just... just let him go."

"you're lying!"

"no, i'm not. i swear to you i'm not. i understand what you went through, okay? i know what it's like to not understand what you did to deserve the abuse and hurt your father put you through. but killing jonny won't fix anything," you told him, he softened a bit from what you revealed. "i had my brothers by my side when that would happen, so i can't imagine how much worse it was for you, michael. but i know that jonny deserves to live. he deserves to see tomorrow and feel the love he deserves, right?"

he slowly released his grip on the child, jonny ran straight into your arms as spencer grabbed his handcuffs and put them on michael, reading him his miranda rights.

"keep jonny safe. keep michael safe!" michael announced as he was escorted out of the room by spencer.

jonny was crying in your arms, clinging tightly to your shirt as he tried to calm himself down. but he didn't need to calm down. he needed to let it out. he deserved to let it all out. he deserved to cry as much as he wanted. and you couldn't help but cry with him. you tried to hold it all in, to be strong for the child in your arms, but you cracked the slightest bit as you felt him quivering in your arms.

"let it out jonny," you stroked his hair. "you're safe now," you placed a kiss on his hairline. "you're safe."

"thank you ms. y/n," he whispered a few minutes after he stopped crying, allowing you to pick him up and carry him to the back of an ambulance.

you didn't even know where his parents were. and quite frankly, you didn't care. you just needed jonny to be safe.

"it was absolutely no problem," you held his hand as the paramedics checked him out.

he didn't want to leave your side at all. when you went back to the precinct, he sat in your lap on the drive there and while you waited for his grandparents to arrive to pick him up at the police station. he cried when he had to go with them, not wanting to leave you after everything that had happened. so, upon his leaving, you made sure to give his grandparents your number so he could call you when he wanted to.

his grandparents were his mom's parents and were very kind people. you knew they wouldn't hurt him as his mom went through her in-patient victim counseling and his father was in jail.

"i don't wanna go," jonny whispered into your neck.

"i know, but nana and pawpaw are really sweet, right?" he nodded his head. "so if you ever need to talk to me, you can ask them to call and they will. i promise i will always answer," you squeezed him a bit tighter before releasing him from your embrace.

once boarding the plane, it was only five minutes after takeoff that you felt your phone ringing. you excused yourself as you took the call at the back of the plane. everyone noticed your exit.

"you think she'll be alright?" morgan asked spencer, whose gaze was still on where you had walked off.

"she's strong, independent, and resilient," spencer replied.

"that doesn't answer the question, reid," he squinted his eyebrows at the younger man, his attention finally going back to morgan.

"i think... i think she needs to work through her past. and we all have things we need to work through - myself included. i just want her to feel comfortable enough with us to... open up," the brunette doctor sighed, focusing back on his book for a millisecond.

"you like her," morgan smiled, jolting spencer's attention back onto morgan.

"what? why would y- you can't- just... shut up," he smiled, rolling his eyes at the more than accurate accusation.

"alright, pretty ricky," morgan chuckled, raising his hands as you came back to sit beside spencer, mumbling a gentle 'sorry.'

"was that jonny?" spencer asked quietly.

"mhmm," you smiled. "he's settled in at his grandparents house already. he said that they're already super nice to him and let him have dessert before dinner," you laughed quietly, yawning softly halfway through.

"you haven't slept in 47 hours," spencer announced. "try to rest."

"right, i probably should," you smiled before trying to get comfortable in your seat.

"you can lay in my lap if you'd prefer," he offered, lifting the armrest that was separating your seats.

"really?" he nodded his head before you curled your legs behind you in your seat.

you rested your head in his lap, your face nuzzled into his tummy as your arms mindlessly took his torso in your arms, much like he had the past couple of nights.

spencer had begun tracing the skin along your arm and running his hand through your hair as you slept. he smiled when he felt you squeeze him the slightest bit tighter in your sleep.

"pretty boy," morgan laughed at him. "you've got it bad, don't you?"

"again," he started. "shut up. she's sleeping; she hasn't rested in 47 hours."

morgan raised his hands in defense, knowing there was no other way to get himself out of trouble with spencer unless he just shut his mouth.

aaron knew his sister. he knew how she acted when she had a crush. he also knew how she acted when she was afraid of said crush. which means he knew that she had a bit more than a crush on spencer. you had been clinging to him in your sleep but when you were awake you tried to hide your need to do so. needless to say... you've got it bad for spencer. and aaron didn't even care because he thought - no, he knew - spencer was good for you.

"y/n," he whispered, gently nudging your shoulders to wake you. "we're back now."

you opened your eyes to see you were in a bureau-issued car. you wondered how you had gotten there before spencer informed you, "you were so knocked out i just carried you in here, don't worry," he stroked your hair as you sat straight up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes.

"uhm, thank you," you stretched your back before you got out of the car, grabbing your things and making your way back inside the building, stumbling over your own feet as you do so.

once you were inside and grabbed your keys, aaron was behind you and cleared his throat to announce his presence. you turned around slowly, brows furrowed as you made eye contact with him.

"i don't think you're awake enough to make the drive back to your place," he said in his protective voice.

"are you kidding? what should i do? just stay here tonight?" you scoffed.

"no, reid will take you home," he motioned his head towards spencer, whose attention was just caught with his name being said.

"sir?"

"you're going to take y/n home and make sure she gets inside safely," hotch practically demanded, you sighed.

"sounds good," he did his signature 'white guy smile' before you handed your keys over.

"you get the weekend off!" he called out to the two of you as you walked away.

you nearly fell as you walked to the elevator so spencer had put his arm around you to keep you balanced. you leaned into his touch as he guided you to your car, helping you get in before he went to the driver's side.

"thanks for driving me," you mumbled as he drove.

"you're welcome," he smiled, looking over at your resting state.

your eyes were closed as your head lolled forward in the seat. he slowed the car down before he reached over, pushing your head to the side so you would curl into the seat, preventing you from getting a crick in your neck. you brought your hand to cup his as it lay over your shoulder, bringing it down to your lap and intertwining your fingers. he rubbed circles on the back of your hand as you fell asleep once again.

when you woke up, you were being carried up to your room by spencer. your arms were around his neck and your head rested against his chest - a rather firm chest. you squinted your eyes as they adjusted to the darkness.

"shh," he whispered to you. "i'm just gonna lay you down and head out, alright?"

"mm-mmm," you disagreed.

"no? you don't want to lay down?" he asked as he stopped in the doorway of your room.

"don't go," you pushed your head into his chest, breathing in the scent of him.

"what?" he asked as he continued his trek into your room, moving the sheets down so he could lay you down peacefully.

"stay here - with me," you held onto his hand limply to keep him from going. "please?" your eyes were a little glassy from the lack of sleep you had gotten.

"are you sure you want me to-" you interrupted him as he released your hand so he could take your shoes off for you.

"i don't want to be alone right now. so please just - just stay here," you tried to reason with him, pleading all that you could with as tired as you were.

"okay, i'll stay," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hairline before walking to the other side of your bed, presumably kicking his shoes off somewhere along the way.

when he finally made his way into the bed, you turned on your side to face him. you brought your hand to cup the side of his face gently, stroking the light stubble that traced along his face.

"when i was around 3, i believe, my dad started drinking," you began speaking to him softly. h brought his hand up to cover the one that was on his face.

"you don't have to tell me yet if you're not ready," he reminded you, squeezing your hand tenderly.

"i know. i'm ready now," you took a deep breath before continuing. "the stress from his job was a bit much - being a lawyer would do that to you," you chuckled. "he drank every day and when he would get back home from a rough case, he started to get aggressive. at first, it was just with his words but then... then it got physical."

spencer saw your eyes water as you continued telling him the history of your childhood. the pain, torment, trouble you went through as a child - a toddler. he couldn't help but realize that that's why hotch is the way he is. that's why he's guarded and stern - protective. he's just been accustomed to it since he was a child. he turned his face to press a gentle kiss to your palm, bringing a faint smile to your face.

"he first hit my mom. one day, i tried to stop him from hitting her," the tear trailed down your cheek. "only he hit me instead," spencer wiped it for you, keeping his hand there. "aaron and sean were always out for football practice or something with school. it was never their fault. i was just... i didn't realize that it was wrong, i suppose. i thought that i had done something wrong, so i'm getting punished. it made sense to me," you shrugged.

"but when aaron and sean were there one night when dad was angry, aaron had come out of his room and pulled dad off of me," you choked on a sob. "that night was a really bad one," you recalled. "but... as time went on, dad's health got worse. eventually, he died; he had a heart attack," you sighed. "and with his life went my answers as to why he did what he did."

there was a moment of silence between you two as if he needed the time to digest what he had been told. only he wasn't digesting it. he was more so admiring you. admiring your strength and persistence.

"some people say that a common trauma response in childhood results in just forgetting that it ever happened," you broke the silence. "i wish i had forgotten. i-i wish i had never remembered the man my father was. part of me feels terrible for saying this but i hate him."

"you aren't terrible for that," now spencer's face had tears that you wiped. "that's a more common response to trauma than forgetting it happened. please just don't say you're horrible for living through what you did. you're not terrible. saying 'you're terrible' is a paradox itself," you sniffled, smiling at his joke. "there she is," he smiled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, watching as it bounced back into place.

"spencer..." your voice trailed off as your face inched closer to his.

and that curiosity you felt only days earlier of wanting - needing - to feel, and taste him was relinquished. your hand brought his chin closer to yours to connect your lips. it was a tame and light kiss as if he were frightened he might hurt you. it was when you applied more passion and fervent that he reciprocated the eagerness.

when you finally pulled back for air, his hand had been tangled in your hair as yours grasped his chin in an attempt to keep him here.

"wow," he whispered against your lips.

"yea... wow," you chuckled against his skin.

and for one moment you felt at peace with your past. you felt hopeful for your future. possibly the future you might have with spencer, if you'd let yourself think that.

but soon that moment would end and along with it the hopes of a future with spencer. the sun would set and rise as it once had with your mind racing along with the 'what-if's and 'maybe's.

but for now, you had spencer. and peace. and quiet. and sleep.

i don’t know if my current taglist would like to be added to the series taglist, but if you do please let me know!

#ssa hotchner #y/n hotchner #hotch #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid series

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years

Photo

richboy!seonghwa (part 20)

word count: 5k

slight angst, fluff

(part 19) (series masterlist)

a week after yeosang's conversation with seonghwa, you both had your first official date. and in true fashion, he hadn't given you any warning about it.

because when you plopped down in his passenger seat that friday afternoon, you were ready for him to drop you home so you could spend the night in bed and finish your drama.

you made sure to tell him all about the absurd developments that had happened thus far: a car accident, two comas, followed by inevitable amnesia, a kidnapping and now a potential long-lost brother.

"we don't really know if they're actually brothers or if he's just pretending to be so he can get close to-"

and it's because of your rambling that you don't notice he passed your house, that he'd been going in the very opposite direction for about fifteen minutes, until he pulled into a random parking lot full of retail stores.

"where are we?" you suddenly squeak in confusion.

"no, please, go on about that ridiculous soap opera," he says dryly, "i've been so intrigued."

you narrow your eyes at his sarcastic tone, bending down to look around at the stores before back to him.

"i'm serious, yeosang!"

"so am i!" he quips, "but i think i'm more interested in the love triangle, because i know there's one. let me guess, the main lead is a good boy, handsome and probably pretty perfect while the other one is-"

"a giant asshole? dark? tortured? and the one who kidnapped her? yes," you snap, "so it's all feeling very familiar right about now."

he turns off the engine with a snort, jumping out of the car before going around to open your passenger side door. but despite his act of chivalry, you stay inside belligerently while keeping your eyes narrowed at him.

"why do you have to be like this?" he asks, letting out a heavy sigh.

"why can't you just tell me why we're here? you were supposed to bring me home," you whine.

"and now we have a date tonight, so let's go."

your mouth falling open causes a smirk to cross his face before he promptly turns around and makes his way toward the strip of stores. you let out an annoyed huff watching him cockily walk away from his car, not once turning around to see if you're following him.

and why would he when he knows you're going too? because you're quick to get out and follow after him out of pure confusion and interest, the sound of his door slamming and your yelp of "wait!" causing a content smile to cross his face.

"we're gonna paint your entire house?!" you squeal in the aisle five minutes later, eyes roaming over what seems like hundreds of cans of paint and color options on the wall.

"the pool-house," he corrects gently, arms folded over the front of the cart as he watches you have a slight mental breakdown in the middle of the store.

"ugh, what a rich boy thing to say," you scoff before adding, "and are you really trying to pass off making us do manual labor as a first date?"

"oh, i'm sorry, were you expecting a helicopter ride to a rooftop dinner in paris?" he asks, arms bumping as you walk next to each other. "and here i thought you were a humble girl."

you scoff at him again and he bites his lip so he doesn't burst out laughing at your disgusted face. "that doesn't even deserve a response and you know it."

"okay, then how about you shut your mouth and pick a color."

and apparently your complaints of 'manual labor' from just ten seconds ago are long forgotten because he watches your whole face brighten, an excited gasp of "i get to choose?!" escaping your mouth before you excitedly flip through the color splotches.

now that you think about it, it's actually quite a humble thing for a person with money to do. you had always assumed one would hire professionals to paint their homes, not wanting to put in the time and tedious work themselves.

because when you and your parents moved into your new house, you painted all the walls yourselves and it's clear by the numerous drip marks and laughable areas of uneven color. but it had been a fun bonding experience that you never thought in a million years you'd be sharing with the boy next to you.

"this is pretty," you say quietly, tapping your finger on a light yellow that has his face falling into a grimace.

"it's not for a nursery, y/n," he mumbles from behind you, the close proximity of his voice causing you to jump. you hadn't realized he had moved closer to you as you browsed, his chest now pressed up right against your back. you feel the breath of his words grazing your skin as he looks over your shoulder.

"how 'bout that?" he asks, his arm brushing yours as he points to the most hideous shade of brown you'd ever seen.

"that is so ugly," you bluntly state, his deep chuckle rumbling in your ear as he pulls his arm back to rest on your shoulder. you try not to jump at the open affection and touch he's giving you, his hand ever so often squeezing gently.

"oooh, what about this?" you ask, craning your neck up to show him the color sample. your cheeks nearly touch from how close your faces are now, holding your breath as you watch him look at it before meeting your gaze. you resist the urge to swallow nervously, his teasing eyes now looking right into yours.

"pretty," he mumbles, "it'll do."

you snap yourself out of it and nod, moving yourself in front of the cart and pretending to read all about what sheen to buy. because "flat? semi-gloss? matte? how are we to know?" you awkwardly choke out.

your cheeks warm when your hear his chuckle, his footsteps moving toward you until his arms reach around you to grasp the bar of the cart.

"you know, you talk a lot of shit one minute and then get unbelievably nervous the next," he lowly mumbles in your ear. "quite easily, might i add."

"i'm not nervous," you snap, placing your hands in the middle of the bar as you to start to push it down the aisle. "what gave you that impression?"

but nervous, you are. because how could you not be, with your body trapped between him and the cart? feeling his steady heartbeat against your back and the breath of his laughter in your ear.

"nothing," he hums, grateful you're in front of him so you don't see his smirk. you two walk through the store like that, his arms around you as you both clumsily push the cart and buy the rest of the supplies for your 'date.'

"oh, my god and why are you using so much!" yeosang complains an hour later; he made sure to cover the floor that morning and felt very grateful for it since you were, apparently, quite the messy painter.

"okay, weren't you supposed to be doing that wall!" you squeal, shoving him away before continuing to roll on the light blue paint. the both of you were happy with the choice, a nice, very much needed contrast to the black, modern furniture in the pool house.

it was overwhelmingly obvious it was the space of a boy who lived alone, walls bare of photos and the only pop of color coming from the extra set of red towels his mom had left in the kitchen. you had been refraining from asking more about the situation, curious if he ever ventured out into the main house or made it a point to avoid it at all costs.

"if you somehow manage to destroy this floor, i will-"

and that's how the first tragedy started, you so boldly dipping your finger in the tray and poking two blue dots on his face. he stared at you in shock for a second, like he was trying to decipher if you really just did that, while you held back the laugh desperate to bubble out of your chest.

"you didn't."

"i did," you say playfully, "and it shut you up for a few seconds so i just might do it-"

roller in hand, he's quick to smear it over your entire cheek, wet paint grazing your skin and the stray hairs that have fallen out of your bun. your gasp and open-mouthed stare causes his deep chuckle to echo through the pool-house, a sound so foreign to those walls.

"you got my whole face!" you yelp, holding your own roller out like it's a weapon. "i did two little specks on your cheek."

"two specks too many and now you look ridiculous. so i hope you're hap-"

you quickly roll the paint over both his cheeks now, first the right then the left, before dropping it in the pan and running over to the safe zone in the kitchen.

a smile crosses your face as you look at him with a giggle, the boy just standing there in disbelief before his neck snaps up to look at you.

"you're done," is all you hear his deep voice say, the dark teasing causing excitement to run through you until you see him going over to pick up the roller you dropped.

"yeosang, no," you get out, watching his figure stomp towards you, both paint weapons in hand before a nervous laugh erupts. "yeosang, no! the floor isn't-"

you run to lock yourself into the bathroom when you feel paint cover the back of your neck, a scream leaving your mouth as his arm wraps around your waist. "stop it," you squeal, wriggling against him but it only causes him to tighten his hold.

"no way, you started this!" he says, smiling at the giggles that leave your mouth despite the messy paint covering your bodies. your hands fly to his arms, attempting to pry them off as you move against him before the roller blindly swipes over the other side of your face.

"yeosang! my eye!" you gasp, hand flying up to cover it. he immediately drops the rollers onto the hardwood floor, quickly turning you in his hold and bringing his hands to your face.

"shit," he grunts out, his hand on your cheeks as he assess your face. "did i get a lot in?"

"yes!" you whine, "i'm gonna be blind now! what the hell!"

"i'm sorry," he says, "let me see it." his touch is soft on your face, his finger grazing your cheek in an attempt to knock your hold off. but you refuse, head turning to the side causing him to huff.

"c'mon, y/n, let me see."

a small whine leaves your mouth as you rub at your eye, a soft deep beg of "please," leaving his lips as he watches your face twist into a grimace.

and the gentleness in his voice almost makes you feel bad for your next move, skirting around him to take a hold of both the rollers with your unharmed eyes popped open.

your innocent giggle only heightens when you see the look that crosses his face, a hint of disbelief and anger with maybe even the tiniest inkling of pride; because perhaps he can even appreciate a sneaky move like that.

"that was dirty," he says lowly, shaking his head as a smile pulls at his lips.

"you're dirty!" you yelp, walking backwards with the rollers outstretched. "now, i will give this back if you stop talking shit and just paint your side.

"but there's no reason for you to use-"

you push the roller towards him threateningly, hoping to see him draw back in fear but per usual he just looks at you in amusement, eyebrow raised with a smirk.

"okay, fine," he says, throwing his hands up defensively because cute. "i won't talk shit about how you waste gallons of paint and drip it down the walls when you could just-"

"shh, all you needed to say was i won't talk shit," you say, sending him a teasing smile before politely putting down the roller on his side. "now i will be minding my own business over there."

he watches you prance over to the other side of the room, rolling over the blue paint far too many times before smearing it carelessly on the walls. he resists the urge to groan until you turn around and look at him, nodding your head at him excitedly.

because even though he'll have to go over it with extra diligence tomorrow, he can't quite find it in himself to care. not when he looks over to see you wiggling happily as you paint, humming under your breath before a shy look crosses your face when you catch his gaze.

he bites his lip so he doesn't chuckle, snapping his head back to the wall to paint. and it goes pretty smoothly for both of you, minimal arguing and instead falling into an accidental game of 21 questions.

"okay, i have another one," you say, hands on your hips as you look up at the rest of the wall, "how are we supposed to get up there?" because while you were able to get most of it, there was still a hint of the original white wall at the top.

you eye the ladder he brings out warily, testing it out and shaking on it. "okay, well obviously you should be staying still," he says with a roll of his eyes. you side-eye him coldly, asking him if he really knows how many injuries are caused by these death traps before shooing him away with the roller.

and you're almost done with the wall when your own impending ladder doom comes. paintbrush exchanged for the roller, you stretch up to cover the wall with one final swipe when you feel the shaky, metal clatter beneath you.

you quickly grab onto the side, letting out a silent gasp before taking a few seconds to steady yourself. and you only try again because you feel steady enough, rising up on your tippy toes to get one last swipe when the clattering is back.

your foot wobbles unsteadily first, the metal plank noisy and trembling beneath you before you completely lose your footing. your arm desperately reaches out to grab the side but you miss, letting out a squeal of yeosang's name before you feel two strong hands on your waist.

his arm wraps around you before plopping you down on the ground safely, spinning you in his hold with a blank look in his eyes.

"you gotta be kidding me," he says, humor lacing in his tone. you look up to see his eyes on you, the warm teasing look causing your cheeks to flush in embarrassment and maybe something else.

"that wasn't my fault," you say, poking his chest lightly.

"oh no?" he hums, "because i think that's what you get for making me think i made you blind for a minute."

you cover your mouth with a giggle, both of you looking around at the light blue walls as his hands still rest on you. "i think we did a good job."

"we did, right?" he hums, his hand coming up to scratch some of the dry paint off your face. "i think we're done for the day. even though half of it is on your face and the other half is still soaked onto your roller."

he sees the fire in your eyes before your hand comes up to smack him, gently grabbing your wrist to halt it. "i'm kidding, i'm kidding," he says, resisting the urge to laugh at you.

you let out a tiny huff, your hand coming up to the back of your neck covered with the uncomfortable stiffness of dried paint.

"you wanna take a shower?" and whether it's because of his deep, smooth voice or the idea of him asking you that, your eyes widen.

"alone. do you wanna take a shower alone, you sicko," he says, moving a dried, blue strand of a hair out of your face before smirking. "unless..."

another resounding smack on his arm echoes through the house, a chuckle leaving his mouth before he takes your hand in his and leads you into the bathroom.

astounded by just how long his hot water lasts, you probably spent far too much time in there. rinsing your hair and body as clumps of blue swirl down the drain. you put on the sweatpants and t-shirt he left folded on the sink for you, inhaling the scent of detergent and his natural scent before being greeted by the sight of him standing over the oven.

the smell of spices fill the small space, the evening breeze coming through the opened windows so you guys don't get gassed out by paint fumes. you pad over to see him stirring noodles, peeking over his shoulder on your tippy toes.

"i didn't know you could cook."

"of course i can," he says cockily, "a guy's gotta eat, right?"

he scoops a noodle out of the pot to feed it to you when he turns to see a slight pout on your face, his words making something tug at your heart.

"what happened now?" he huffs, pushing the spoon between your lips with a concerned look on his face. he watches you furrow your eyebrows at him but chew nonetheless, giving him a thumbs up before you lean back on the counter.

"nothing," you squeak after swallowing, "i just..." you notice now his hair is damp and his body's void of paint. "wait, did you shower also?"

"yes," he says, raising his eyebrow at your confusion. "in case you forgot, the real house is just a few feet away."

"oh..." so that answers your question from before. "i wasn't sure if you..."

"went in there?" he offers with a smirk. you shyly nod, your lips pursing into one another nervously. because nothing could ruin a date more than mentioning a possibly strained relationship with his only remaining parent.

"i usually don't, my step-dad's a bit of dick," he grumbles before his eyebrows raise sarcastically, "so naturally, we don't get along."

"but you're not a dick," you mumble.

because he can be, you'll be the first to admit it, but at his core it's becoming more and more obvious he's just a little damaged. horrific childhood experiences and the effects of needing to grow up quickly shaping him into a person whose first instinct is to hurt people so they can't hurt him first.

he turns to look at you with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips suddenly and lifting you to sit on the counter with a squeal. "did hell just freeze over?"

an exasperated look crosses your face, letting out a tiny sigh that causes his lips to turn into a soft smile.

"you can be a dick, more often than not," you make sure to clarify, "but you're not a dick. or a bad person."

his eyes roam over your face, a strange feeling shooting through his heart before he leans forward to peck your lips. your eyes widen at the easy, casual way in which he does it, before his warm mouth is on yours. he smiles against your lips when he feels them part, his hand moving to rest on your thigh as he slips his tongue in cheekily.

you bite down on his lower lip thinking you'll have the upper-hand now until a squeal leaves your mouth at his hand tightening on your thigh.

"stop it," you mumble against his lips.

"you stop it," he counters, dipping his head to place a lingering kiss on your neck. "getting so brave like you won't be a shy mess in three seconds."

the hissing sound of water overflowing has yeosang pulling himself away from you, turning down the heat as you watch him stir with a smile. your eyes roam over his face, chiseled jaw and perfect cheekbones and his damp, dark hair falling into natural waves.

you ask if you can help do anything and even though he says no, you take it upon yourself to set the small table for two. he shakes his head at you so brazenly going through his cabinets for cups and bowls but a part of him loves seeing you that comfortable. because the whole thing is really so domestic, a day of shopping and painting completed with dinner and a movie at home.

yeosang watches you take the first bite, anticipation written all over his face as you swirl the noodles and messily plop them in your mouth. his smile widens when you exclaim how good it is, the shyest "thanks" leaving him as he dabs at your mouth with a napkin.

he pulls back to see a blush creeping up on your face and has the balls to laugh, like you're not supposed to be flustered by him being like this.

"stop laughing," you whine, throwing your hands over your cheeks.

"i can't help it," he smiles, that uncharacteristic softness slipping back into his tone. "you're cute."

an awkward giggle leaves your mouth, shaking your head at him.

"what?" he asks, nodding his head toward you with a smirk.

"what do you mean, what?!" you squeak, "who are you to make me feel this flustered?"

his loud chuckle booms through the pool-house, turning his head to the side so you don't see just how wide his smile could get. and it's brewing in him to blurt out that you're his, that you've been his for quite some time and now he hopes to make it official.

but he waits for dinner to finish, poking fun at your messy eating habits and pink cheeks while you scoff at him and kick his legs under the table. you quickly gather the dishes as he goes to set the living room up with a movie and an array of blankets and pillows on the couch.

"yeosang, no, wait, i'm almost-"

his arm tightly wraps around your waist while the other one reaches out to turn off the faucet before he dragging you towards the couch. he throws himself down, your body falling right onto his and if your arms didn't reach out to stop yourself you probably would've face planted right onto him.

"that isn't fair, you cooked," you whine with a pout, "the least i could've done was clean up."

"well, i can think of other ways for you to make it up to me," he mumbles, pulling your face down till your lips are only a few inches away.

"wow, aren't you so smooth," you say back, words sarcastic and biting despite your heated gaze falling to his lips.

his confident assertion of "yes" causes you to giggle until your lips meet again tonight, mouths parting on one another as you quickly fall into the steady, natural movements. because kissing him shouldn't be this easy, your lips shouldn't fit and melt into each other so perfectly.

but it is, tongues clashing and breathy sighs leaving your mouths as you both feel yourselves quickly getting more heated. his hands grip your hips roughly, your own coming up to rest on the arm of the couch to give you more leverage.

and then in a daring move, you plop yourself down a little more on his lap, smirking against his lips when you hear a harsh hiss leave his mouth.

"careful," he warns lowly, feeling his adam's apple bob when you start to slowly kiss and lick and bite down his neck.

but because you wanna do the exact opposite, because you wanna see him close to losing his control and composure, you suddenly lean yourself back and pull him up just to straddle his hips with a playful wiggle of your eyebrows.

"now why would i wanna do that?" you mumble, turning your head to the side coyly, "when i could just get you-"

he pulls your face down you meet his again, mouths crashing as he completely dominates the kiss. his tongue pushing past your lips as he swallows your surprised groans and squeaks, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

"yeosang," you whine when he pulls away, taking a fist full of your hair and tugging your neck back ever so slightly. his hot, wet tongue trails down your skin before he bites down, sucking that sensitive spot right above your collar bone causing a strangled, extremely obvious moan to leave your mouth.

"so that's what you sound like," he hums against your skin. your head snaps back up when he pulls your hair again, your overwhelmed heated gazes meeting.

"what do you sound like?" you ask, attempting to grind yourself down on his lap before his hands fly to your waist to halt it.

"we're not talking about me, baby," he hums. "we're talking about you."

your wide eyes stare back at him, like you're already completely trapped under the spell he's about to put on you.

"you're mine now. you know that, right?"

and despite the lust and desire creeping through your veins, the slight building of pressure between your legs, your heart still jumps and flutters and your glossy eyes widen. because you shouldn't like that so much. like the sound of him telling you your his.

"hm?" he hums, pulling your head down to peck your lips. you try to deepen the kiss but he quickly pulls away, leaned back cockily as he roams over your flushed face. "do you like that? do you want that?"

"to be...yours?" you ask breathily, turning your head to the side questioningly. "like...your girlfriend?"

he smirks at the title, watching your chest heave up and down and trying to control his own. because the feeling of you under him is killing him, especially when you've been moving back and forth so teasingly. but he has to make sure this is done tonight, right now, at this very moment.

"if you want that," he hums.

"i want to," you say and it's surprisingly sweet despite the compromising position. so maybe that's why he asks you for clarification, asks to hear you say "i wanna be yours" fully as you stare at him with want and need and desire.

"good," he says with finality.

and something about the whole situation then causes you to giggle, your head throw back in laughter as your hazy mind thinks back to the first time you had the (dis)pleasure of meeting this man.

"um...i'm y/n, by the way," you tell the boy quietly causing him to stop short and you nearly bump into him. he turns around, looking at you with a quizzical expression and you swallow the panic rising in your throat. "thank you...i know this is probably the last thing you wanna do during your lunch period so i really appreciate-"

"yeah, you're right," he snaps, rolling his eyes, "so why don't you just shut up and follow me?"

"oh god, what has you laughing now?" he asks, tone dripping with annoyance despite the humor laced in it.

"nothing," you say innocently, smiling brightly at him. "but you know, i've been having some trouble with my work, maybe you can like tutor me or-"

your words are quickly cut off by his lips crashing on to yours one final time, giggling against his mouth as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to deepen the kiss.

and it's your very giggles and sighs that can be heard through the backyard later that night, hongjoong and seonghwa deciding to creep through their friend's yard and inform him of their plan to go to the amusement park tomorrow.

"was it san's idea?" seonghwa asks as they open the gate quietly, the automatic light shining down on them in the dark night.

"of course, the giant baby," hongjoong quips causing seonghwa to laugh quietly. they make their way towards the pool house when the smaller boy hesitantly speaks up again. "how are you with y/n? should we invite her too?"

a small sigh leaves the boy as he shrugs, watching the water ripple through yeosang's heated pool from the chilly breeze. because he's been trying to slowly talk to you again, refusing to go back to his seat in 4th period but at least acknowledging you know with polite smiles and waves.

"we're fine, i guess...i just feel so stupid to be...upset about it still. because we were never anything," he explains, "and now i feel bad because i can barely talk to her in class but here i am being friend's with yeosang again."

"well yeah," hongjoong says, "but you didn't have, like, crazy feelings for him and want to kiss him."

seonghwa quietly chuckles as he nods his head because "that's true, i definitely don't wanna kiss yeosang."

hongjoong squints as he makes his way closer to the pool house door, seeing what looks like two figures on the couch lit up the flashing television. he only needs to take three steps closer to see it's you straddling yeosang's lap in a heated make-out session.

his eyes widen before he throws out his arm to stop seonghwa, the boy nearly falling forward.

"what are you doing?"

"he's busy," is the only thing hongjoong says, "let's go. we'll just text him."

"wait, what? how do you know?" seonghwa questions, something about his friend's tone unnerving him.

"i can just tell, c'mon," hongjoong says, attempting to push seonghwa back towards the pool. but it only heightens the boy's suspicions, moving his friends arm out of the way before his eyes look through the glass door into the pool house.

and it's at that exact moment you pull back from yeosang's lips with a giggle, your head thrown back in laughter before your squeal rings through the open window as he pushes you back down onto the couch.

seonghwa's quick to snap his gaze away, mumbling "oh," under his breath and trying to ignore the awful pang in his chest. because he's been working not to be angry or upset, understanding just how important you must be to his best friend for him to open up to you and form some sort of bond.

but that doesn't mean he wanted to see that, see you both so happy and giggly as you sit there on his lap and he gets to hold you. he stomps out of the backyard, ignoring the conflicting emotions of pain and anger and resentment swirling in his body.

hongjoong follows the boy with a sigh, grateful he was able to catch the gate before it swung back with a bang.

"are you okay?" the smaller boy asks stupidly; but what else can one say after seeing that?

"yeah."

but both the boys can hear that he's not okay, that maybe dealing with this is gonna be a lot harder than he thought.

(part 21)

#seonghwa #yeosang #seonghwa fluff #yeosang fluff #seonghwa angst #yeosang angst #ateez fic #seonghwa fic #yeosang fic #ateez fluff #ateez angst

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i-need-entertainment · 4 years

Text

Sweet Home Hyogo: Chapter 4 THAT is a Fine looking man right there

Chapter 3-Chapter 5

“Y/N!!” With a scared gasp Y/n sat up in her bed, practically sprinting out from under the covers due to the fight-or-flight response her mother’s arrival had activated. Y/n let her now tensed muscles relax as one hand clutched her heart and the other her head, shaking her head in disapproval at the enthusiastic woman standing in her doorway. “Mom what the heck! You could have killed me.” Her mother simply waved her off and tugged her out of bed, allowing the young female to regain her footing before fixing her hair and lightly pushing her towards her dresser.

“As much as I appreciate the heartfelt wake up, why are you in such a rush?” Mrs. L/n placed her hands on her hips and looked at her only daughter. “You missy hafta get ready ASAP. I’ve got somethin’ I need ya to do for me.” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she squinted her eyes accusingly at her mother. Hesitantly she looked at her, arms coming up to cross across her chest. “What exactly Is ‘something’ mom?” Mrs. L/n rolled her eyes at her hesitation, “I need you to deliver some bread to Yumie.” Oh. OH- “Yumie as in…”

Mrs. L/n’s eyes once again met the back of her eyelids as she continued ushering Y/n around the room, the young woman getting ready as she was. “Yes, Yumie as in yer mother-in-law. I dunno why yer so surprised, should ‘a known I’d make you see her when I saw ya were back.” Y/n felt the nervousness arise in her stomach as she got dressed and did her hair and such. It wasn’t that she disliked her mother-but-really-grandmother-in-law at all! She loved Yumie like her own grandmother! It was just, Yumie had been very upset when she learned about her and Shinsuke, heartbroken actually, and knowing why she was here was something Y/n would like to stay under wraps.

After having the basket of baked goods shoved in her hands and being practically thrown out the front door, Y/n’s mother speedily drove Y/n to the Kita residence, booking it down the street once Y/n was on the front porch step. Y/n took a few deep breaths before squaring her shoulders and knocking. After softly knocking a few times, she took a small step back, hands interlocking in front of her. Just as she was about to knock again she heard the elder’s small footsteps.

The door opened and Y/n could see the ever so sweet and smiling face of the elder she loved dearly. Yumie let out a slight gasp as she pulled Y/n down into a tight hug. “Y/n dear! How are you?” Y/n smiled as she hugged her back. “I’m good, granny. How are you doing? You look great.” (She will also call her granny cause it makes ~sense~) Granny released Y/n from her arms as she stepped aside, welcoming the young woman into her home. Y/n set the baked goods on the counter as she and Yumie sat down, catching up and what not. Before the two knew it, it was noon, and time for lunch. “Y/n, dear, would you like to stay? Five years is a lot of time to catch up on.”

Y/n nodded, “Only if you let me help you cook!” Yumie nodded “Deal”. The took put on aprons and got to work, making homemade ramen. The two were hard at work, and as Yumie went to set the table and Y/n put the finishing touches on the meal, the front door opened. “Granny! I’m here for lunch!” Y/n, still very much hard at work, didn’t hear the front door open or close nor did she hear the other Kita’s greeting. “Shin! Please come in, come in!” Kita smiled at his grandmother, while he took off his boots, hat, and the fluffy white towel around his neck.

(Okay, I have N O idea how the outfit works, but it looks like a jump suit kinda thingy, and he wears like a black compressions shirt under, SO for my sake and for a ~purpose~ he will have unbuttoned the top portion and tied it around his waist, like the painter official art Y’know? I hope so lol) Y/n had just put the meal on the table when Kita entered the dining room, both young adults showing a look of surprise on their faces. Yumie ushered them both to the table and sat them across from each other while she sat at the end of the table. Both adults shared a heartwarming, sweet, sincere FAKE smile while the elder hummed in satisfaction.

“Y/n, what a surprise.” Kita stated, ‘smile’ still present as she returned it, eyes crinkling in suspicion. “Yes, what a surprise.” Yumie hid her smirk as she readied the meals, “Ooh! Shin dear,” He broke the intense eye contact between him and Y/n as he looked to his Granny, the sickeningly sweet façade dropping to an actually sincere one towards the one who raised him. “Yes Granny?” Yumie pointed to the kitchen, “Go get the good bowls, Y/n’s back home for a visit! This is a special occasion!” Kita stiffened and clenched his jaw, remembering all to vividly why Y/n was here.

Without turning his head, he turned his gaze to Y/n, who was desperately pleading with her eyes for him not to tell Yumie why she was really here. “O’course, be right back” Y/n gave let out a sigh, “Y/n.” She looked up to Kita in shock, “Since you n’ Granny re organized the kitchen a couple’ a years ago, I dunno where they got put. Mind helpin’ me find em?” The look he was giving her was no questioning glance, he wanted answers. Y/n nodded, “Sure.”

The two adults got up from the table and made their way into the storage closet. “What is this really about? I know for a fact you know where the bowls are.” Y/n asked in a hushed voice, crossing her arms over her chest. Kita sighed and turned to face Y/n, copying her actions as he leaned against the walls. “Because I know how much Granny dislikes our…situation… I’m not gonna tell her ‘bout yer fiancé.” Y/n stiffened. Of course he knew. He wasn’t stupid! (Freaking class 7 smh) “Thanks…” The two stood in silence while Kita dug through the closet looking for the bowls, before retrieving them and returning to his position against the walls.

Keep in mind, its been five years since Y/n had last seen Kita, and a person can change a lot in five years. Especially when that person works incredibly hard doing manual labor. Long story short, Kita had bulked up, and Y/n had noticed. How could she not! He was wearing a compression shirt that nicely showed off his toned arms and chest. He had always had a good amount of muscle, but he had changed a lot since high school, for better of course.

‘W O W he got buff. I mean, he was never scrawny but OH MY GOSH HOW!?! And his biceps?! STOP IT Y/N! STOP this is not okay. You have a wonderful, beautiful fiancé waiting for you at home who is wonderful and you love him. SO STOP OGLING YOUR SOON-TO-BE-EX-HUSBAND YOU IDIOT!! Ughhhh, the jerk probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing..jerk..’

Oh no, he was well aware of what he was doing. And he felt no remorse for it either. Y/n was never really ‘sneaky’ or ‘subtle’ and he was extremely observant and perceptive. So picking up on her wandering eyes and internal debate was quite easy. “Y’done?” Y/n was jerked back to reality as she sent him a harsh embarrassed glare. Smirking, Kita grabbed the bowls and started walking back until “Wait,” He turned around to see Y/n looking away while she gripped his wrist. He raised an eyebrow, silently questioning her what she wanted. “Thank you….really. I know our situation isn’t ideal but I appreciate it.”

Kita’s face turned to one of seriousness as he slowly nodded, “S’not my job to tell her, it’s yours.” Y/n nodded, releasing his wrist as she grabbed the bowls from him, making her way back into the dining room and setting the bowls on the table. Kita stayed behind, taking a deep breath as he slid a hand down his face, re collecting himself before returning to the table, getting his lunch and beginning to eat. If only you knew Y/n….Maybe things would be different…But…I guess you’ve found someone new huh?

Kita let go of the depressing thoughts and focused his attention to the two chattering women in front of him, two women he held very dear to him, even if only one appeared to return the sentiment. Lunch went…surprisingly well. The two adults were able to have civil conversations, much to the satisfaction of his grandmother, and after plenty of trips down memory lane, and a few looks through old scrap books Yumie sends the two adults out of her home.

“Shin dear, before you go back to work, walk Y/n home. I know you two aren’t together in a sense, but you still owe it to each other to guarantee the others safety.” Kita looks over at Y/n, “Only if you don’t mind.” He shook his head as he and Y/n started their walk back to her house. It wasn’t too far, the two used to make this trip quite often, actually. Growing up as best friends, and later high school sweethearts, meant frequent trips between the two houses. The walk back was quiet, but not an uncomfortable quiet like the car ride, more like a reminiscing quiet.

Y/n started giggling, trying to suppress the laughter coming out. Kita looked at her questioningly. “What’s so funny?” Y/n looks at him and bursts out laughing, as she can no longer keep it in. Kita feels his own smile creep up on his face. “Do-do you remember when we were coming home from school *snort* and, you slipped, so you took me down with you *snicker* into a pile of mud!!” Kita stopped walking and looked at Y/n in disappointment, seeing her bent over in half laughing herself to death.

“I thought we had a mutual agreement not to bring that up again.” Y/n tried to calm herself down but her actions went in vain as she remembered how mad both of their parents were, before they started laughing at the two teens. Y/n always thought it was funny, Kita however, did not. Y/n stood up straight again, wiping the tears that were in her eyes before successfully calming down. “Yeah, well, that’s my revenge for you bringing up what you did earlier.” Kita smiled as he remembered the mortified look on Y/n’s face as he recounted to Yumie of a certain event when they were first married and on their honeymoon.

They had gone to a beach for their honeymoon (you can choose where 😊) and naturally Y/n and Kita had gone into the water. The two had been having fun, playfully splashing each other and all that. That is before a big wave came out of NO WHERE and caught Y/n off guard. Unfortunately for Y/n, she wasn’t the only thing caught off guard, as her top came loose and….well…came off. Y/n had been so in shock from the big wave that had taken her out, that she hadn’t realized that an important piece of clothing was missing. That is until she stood up to see Kita doubled over in laughter. She glared at him until she felt a bit colder it was then she dove back in the water, frantically waving her new husband over to help her.

“Well, then I guess its only fair then.” Y/n smiled. The remainder of their walk was quiet. “See ya around I guess.” Kita said as he dropped Y/n off on her front porch step. “Yeah I guess so. You still have papers to sign.” Kita shook his head and smiled, waving her off as he walked back towards the fields to get back to work. “See ya around Y/n, and no.” Y/n, despite being frustrated over the papers couldn’t help but shake her head a she went inside, instantly confused as she couldn’t seem to wipe the fond smile off of her face.

#kita shinsuke #akaashi keiji #fluff #angst #crack #kita x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi angst #kita angst #y/n #akaashi x y/n #kita x y/n #love triangle

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #359

“i’m only a crack in this castle of glass / hardly anything there for you to see”

Do you look better with your hair down or up? It's too short to go up. Has you mom ever directly told you that she favoured your other sibling(s) over you? Yeesh, no. Have you ever read The Outsiders? Seen the movie? Read the book, seen the movie. Adore both. What’s your favourite drink from Jamba Juice? I don't think we have those here. Can you stand eating the crusts of a slice of sandwich bread? I don't mind the crust at all. Do you do your homework at home or in class? Prior to college, I did my work right after getting home to get it out of the way. In college, I did it in-between classes or when waiting for Mom to finish class. Do you feel uncomfortable sharing drinks with other people? Yes, I never do it. Do you get jealous if your boyfriend hugs another girl? I'm single, but hypothetically, I wouldn't... It's just a hug. At least for me, it's just a friendly gesture. Is there something that happened in your past you hate talking about? A few things, yes. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? Nah. If you had to choose, what color is your favorite? Baby pink. How many times have you dated the person you’re with now? I’m single. Has anyone suspected you of being a different sexuality? Yes. Do you like chocolate or vanilla cake more? Chocolate. Does it bother you to have blood drawn or not so much? Nah. What color is your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. Do you normally fall asleep fast or slow? Ridiculously slow. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? No. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? I'd love to dress up as like a Ms. Oogie Boogie and take some cool pictures, but I highly doubt it'll actually happen. What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Do you still look in the toy aisle, or do you pass it by? I walk past it. What are your summer fashion essentials? I don't have fashion essentials for any season. Do you have your own website? For my photography, yeah. Do you think you would be a good salesperson? Ha, no. I worked in retail before and I fucking sucked. Do you like candy corn? NO. Just colored wax, ugh. Do you like to wear skirts? I don't wear anything that shows my legs. Were you happy as a kid? Yeah. That, talkative, and hyper. Favorite store to browse but not really buy anything? Haha, I LOVE going on MorphMarket now and again to browse the ball pythons especially, but boy if I had the cash and space would I buy like fifty of them at once. I don't really know about a store I like browsing but not buying from. Skittles or Sour Patch Kids? Both are great, but I guess Sour Patch Kids. BUT, if you throw SOUR Skittles in there... then it's a war lol. If tattoos were free, how many would you have? A HELL OF A LOT. I wanna be just about totally painted. Do you wear a retainer at night? Not anymore. I had one, but I stopped using it. Are you afraid of dolls, puppets, or clowns? I'm not a doll person, particularly porcelain ones. When you’re in your room, do you keep the door locked? No. It's not even closed. Do you think your face is mostly symmetrical? Actually no, and I'm self-conscious about it. Stupidest thing you have ever said out loud? OH Christ, I'm not retrospecting on this. What’s your least favourite ice-cream flavour? That I've actually tried, strawberry. It's disgusting. What was the last good news you heard? I got approved for TMS therapy! Who was the last person to comment on your Facebook status? My friend Lyndsey. How did you meet him/her? World of Warcraft. She's actually my guild master, and she is the sweetest damn person. Have you ever learned any self-defense? If not, would you be interested in learning? I haven't, but yeah, I'd like to. When was the last time you took a nap? How long was it? Yesterday. For some reason, I actually slept a LONG time, like at least three, but probably close to four, hours. I mean I was tired, but I didn't feel THAT tired. Do you like Gushers? YAAAAAAAAAAS What would you do if you could do anything without failing? Actually get a degree for SOMETHING. What is your native language? English. Do you have a younger brother or sister? A younger sister. If so do/did they really get on your nerves? No. We were very close as kids, but we've drifted apart. Now, she absolutely doesn't get on my nerves. I'm so proud of her. Name something that happened to you that was completely unexpected. Uhhh I dunno. Do you judge people that have multiple piercings? Lol wtf? No. Do you watch the Olympics? No. What did you have for breakfast this morning? I had Kix cereal. Do you like orange juice? Yes. So long as it doesn't have pulp in it. Do you think it’s cruel to keep an animal in a cage while you’re away? It depends on the size of the cage as well as how long you're away. Do you have a pet gecko? No, but I'd love a fat-tailed gecko. Are you scared of reptiles? Not at all, I adore them. Is your car messy? I don't have my own car. Mom's kinda is, though. It needs a wash badly, but because of her bumper literally being zip-tied on, she doesn't trust going into a car wash. And neither of us are about to do it manually, lol. Have you ever seen the show 16 and Pregnant? No, fuck that show. Do you buy expensive clothes? No. Does death scare you? Not really. What are your current goals? Conquer my social anxiety, get a job, lose weight, do something to strengthen my legs... Those are the four biggies. Do you clap or cheer when at a concert? I did both at the one I've been to. Do you drink coffee? What brand? No. Do you use a comb or brush? A comb. When you were younger, did you ever do that exclamation point that looked like an upside down triangle and had a really big dot? No. I loved the cutesy girl handwriting though, haha. I just could never do it. You’re locked in a room with the person you last dated, any problems? Well yeah, we're locked in a room lmao. What kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? It's perfectly fine, we're best friends. Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No. Do you get mad when people smoke around you? Yes. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yeah, more than once. When was the last time you were on a city bus? Never. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? Who said I even want kids? Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yessssss, good shit. Have you ever seen a ghost? I think I have. Have you ever burned an ant with a magnifying glass? No. Have you ever been to craigslist.com? Yes. Have you ever used Nair? Yes, on my legs. It works, I just have stupidly hairy legs that need so much to get it all. How many tabs do you have open and what are they? Two YouTube tabs and then Tumblr. What browser do you prefer to use? Chrome. What room are you in right now? My bedroom. Are you excited for anything this month? 1.) I get my tattoo on the 19th, and 2.) I start TMS next Wednesday. What language course did you take in school, if any? I barely survived one semester of Latin, then I did all four available German courses. What language would you most like to learn? I'd love to improve my German. What would you like to get a degree in? Photography. What book are you reading, what genre is it and do you like it so far? Wings of Fire: The Brightest Night. It's young adult fantasy, I think. Did you ever sometimes flip through your text books even when you didn’t need to? Yeah, mainly to just look at pictures because I was that bored in class, haha. What types of magazines do you read? None. Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Play a video game. What’s your current relationship like with the person you lost your virginity to and do you wish it was different? We don't have any relationship anymore. I don't regret losing it to him, if that's what you're asking. If you mean our relationship stance, it'd be nice to still be in touch with him, but I know it wouldn't be healthy for me. Have you ever felt responsible for someone’s death? Pets, yes. No humans. What was the last book you recommended to someone? Idk. What’s the most difficult thing you and your current or last significant other have gone through? Distance was very hard. What’s your best memory with your ex? I'm going to assume this refers to "the ex." In which case, we were "play arguing," and I came storming into the kitchen after him to make a point, and I slid mid-sentence, and he caught me. We just held each other laughing our asses off. It's the simple things, man. Who was the last person that asked to hang out with you and what’s the story of how you met that person? Summer. My little sister and her were in pre-k together and became friends, but I gradually became closer to her than Nicole did when we were teens. Has anyone ever asked you out and you turned them down? Yes. Is there something you generally always ask for help with? Yeah. Like recently I've been having apples and peanut butter a lot, and I ask my mom to cut the apple because I'm terrified of knives. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NOPE. Have you looked at any old photos of yourself lately? No. In a relationship, have you ever been on and off with your partner? No. Do you consider cooking to be an art? Yes. Are you a fast or slow reader? I'd say I read at a moderate pace. Does it take a lot to gross you out? It depends on what it is, but I am actually more squeamish than I used to be.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''castle of glass'' by linkin park

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mysticmilks · 4 years

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Demon/hunter Kylux AU

[Chapter 1 (part I, part II), Chapter 2 (part I, part II, part III), Chapter 3 (part I, part II, part III), Chapter 4(part I, part II, part III, part IV), Chapter 5 (part I, part II, part III)]

Chapter 4: Part IV

The thirst had come later that week. And then Armitage had understood how not fine everything was. When the understanding of what he had become had come, he'd returned home for one last time. He hadn't cared about the consequences anymore. He hadn’t cared about his life. He'd just needed to hurt Brendol. If not for his healing abilities he’d have died in that fire too.

"I was ready to die," he said "Sounds melodramatic, but I truly was. But my skin was regenerating before my eyes, and I decided to run away before firemen came."

All the other men who'd been with Brendol that night had died within a year, all of the very unsuspicious circumstances — mostly illnesses, a couple of car crashes, overdoses. There had been a few obituaries in the news, all about the death of prominent citizens, but no one connected them, and no one investigated them further.

And Armitage had learned to live with his curse.

"It wasn’t that bad," he admitted. "Sex was good. Not aging was good. People desperately wanting to give me their money is also nice. The need to be in control all the time — not so much. I didn't want to accidentally kill anyone."

Ben didn’t know if he believed Armie or not. That all sounded opposite to his teaching. Admittingly Hunters didn’t know much about the origins of demons. But no one ever mentioned that person could become a demon against their will.

“How did you manage to find the ability to control yourself?” Ben asked. This question was safe, it didn't ruin Ben's beliefs.

“Trials and errors,” Armitage shrugged, “This curse didn’t come with a manual. The first time... the first time was strange. I was never addicted to any drug—my dear daddy forbade me to even drink coffee,—but I imagine that's how withdrawal should feel like. I... before that we did things with my boyfriend, but... we were children at school, it wasn't much. And that day, I wanted to be fucked. And I found a man, and he almost died in the process. I got scared and managed to get the hell out of it. So, in the future, I experimented and almost always was able not to hurt them... a lot."

“The voice didn’t explain it to you? The whole process?”

“No. I don’t remember much. In the beginning, I wasn’t even sure that it was real, I thought maybe I just dreamed of her. But when my body changed—”

“Was it Lilith?”

“You tell me. Everything that I found in public asses was a mix of nonsense and young adult fantasy. I anonymously bought documents of Arturh Pryde, one of my father's friends, after his car run over the cliff. There were explanations of what they tried to achieve. And when I dug deeper I found the mention Skywalkers and Hunters.”

“Did you try to contact her?”

“I—” Armitage stopped, and smiled. It looked real, “I yelled in the night sky once or twice, does it count?”

Ben didn't answer.

“She has never reappeared to my pleas. Never contacted me herself. I kinda expected that she would after the last of them died. But it has never happened. I don’t know if what she did to me was a curse, blessing, or sick joke.”

“Any other questions, hunter?” Armie asked when Ben did say anything for a few minutes. He looked worried as if he wanted to talk more to Ben.

Ben didn’t know what he was waiting for. The extortion spell was ready a long time ago. But Ben felt hesitant. If Armitage wasn’t lying then he was innocent. He didn’t kill anyone. He was born a regular human. And he wasn't evil beyond redemption. But even in that case, Armitage still was a demon. Mom or Luke might know the answer but that would mean admitting to them what Ben had done. And with dead Brendol and years of feeding on humans, Ben wasn’t sure his family would want to save Armitage either. It was simply easier to kill him.

Ben did what he does best. He turned around and strode to the exit.

“Where do you go?” he heard from behind his back “Hunter! Don’t leave. Hunter!”

When the abandoned warehouse was left far behind, Ben willed his bindings to release.

#kylux #demon!Hux #demon hunter!Ben #my fics #my kylux

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foxtophat · 4 years

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HEY HEY HEY!!!! hey guys. haha. um, idk what to say exactly and tumblr likes to eat my posts so lets see how long this lasts:

its’ only been a couple months but i have been frothing at the mouth trying to figure out what next part of mercy to put out. i have a lot of much bigger stories to tell than this one, but kim and john sharing insomnia felt sort of like the right segue into those bigger bits. so for now, let’s just enjoy a 20k fic about Kim and John, and also a little about John and Nick, but mostly just about John and Jacob.

there are 3 chapters. i’ll post the 2nd one later this week (wednesday or friday i think) and the third will probably go up next monday. YEAH THAT’S RIGHT i actually have most of this one finished right out the gate!!!

as usual, i’ll put the entire chapter under a readmore in case you don’t want to leave tumblr. i hope you enjoy what i’ve got for you this time -- if not don’t worry, there will be more dramatic bullshit later :) comments, kudos, reblogs and likes are all the things that make ficwriting more fun than it already is, so consider helping me out if you enjoy what i’m doing. otherwise, have a good day!!!

Kim's dreams are normally composed of fleeting images in dark, monochrome colors. They're howling-wind nightmares or ethereal moments of peace, but they're short-lived and she's always disconnected from them. She hasn't had a real dream in probably nine years. She used to miss them, before John Seed reappeared with all of his night terrors, just in time to remind her of how good she has it. Now, she's glad that the most she has to contest with is a looming sense of dread that fades almost as soon as she wakes up.

But tonight, Kim is a long way away from all of that. She's standing at the kitchen sink in her childhood home, which is in full summer swing. The rosemary plant her mom keeps on the sill is in full bloom, thick green spikes dotted with blue puffball flowers. Beyond it, the Canadian sky is seawater green, and Kim marvels at the fluffy clouds drifting through the unnatural color. They seem to be floating by much faster than the still air outside would imply. It should rattle her, confuse her, but before that realization sinks in, her mom's voice distracts her away.

"Do you really think he's the one?" she asks, as skeptically as she had all those years ago when Kim first decided to move to Montana. Her mother had liked Nick, of course, because he was a likable guy, but Kim had known from the start that her parents were worried about her. They'd worried about her moving to a red state, about her trusting a man she'd seen a handful of times since they'd met. They hadn't understood the idea of purple pockets or internet dating, and while they supported Kim's love of rifle showmanship, they'd never trusted Nick owning more than three guns.

"What's the point, is all I'm asking," Kim's mom laughs in response to Kim's unspoken comment. "It seems strange to collect weapons..."

"Mom, he hunts !" she chides. "And anyway, he isn't the worst one out there."

"That's exactly what I worry about," her mom says. "What if something bad were to happen? His family is gone, and we'll be so far away..."

Kim sighs, the words stinging more than they should. The aqua colored sky begins to churn outside, the light filtering through a strange red haze. Inside, the sunlight reflects off the white counters, nearly blinding Kim.

"I'll be okay," she says, reciting an amalgamation of all her old defenses as her eyes readjust. "There are a lot of good people out there. They rely on each other a whole lot more than we do here."

"I worry about you, Kimiko. That's all." Her mother sighs sadly. "You'll understand when you have kids of your own."

"But mom..."

Kim tries to tell her that she already has a kid, but she can't muster up the words. After all, shouldn't she know? Wouldn't Kim have visited? Wouldn't she have brought Carmina into this very kitchen, all the surfaces glowing with light, and introduced them? Wouldn't her mom have been there when Carmina was born?

"It's unseasonably warm, isn't it," her dad remarks at the table. He's sitting there with a magazine as if he'd been there the whole time. He, like the rest of the room, glows from the inside, as though a flashlight were shining through his skin. It shines through the wood of the table, through her mom's curious smile, until Kim has to turn her face away. The room grows hotter and hotter, and in the far-off whistling wind she hears the first lonesome wail of an air-raid siren beginning to pick up. There's a blinding burst of light and howling wind, and Kim lifts her hands to her face, desperate not to look directly at the blast —

The bedroom is dark, warm and humid. At first, Kim doesn't know where she is, struggling to sit up, desperate to run, until all at once reality comes crashing back into focus. It doesn't help that she's pinned beneath Nick's arm and Carmina's full dead-sleeping weight.

Normally, moving would be out of the question. But Kim doesn't want this dream clinging to her memory, and she desperately wants to put some space between her and the nuclear glow of her mother's smile. Hell, maybe it isn't the dream at all — maybe it's the heat that's making lying here unbearable. Maybe it's the extra weight pinning her down, or a panic attack waiting in the wings — whatever it is, she needs to get up and run from it. As she worms her way out from underneath her family, Kim can feel the pressure building behind her eyes, fueled by the need to jog out the tension that will soon become unbearable. She needs to exercise the nightmare away before it sticks around and ruins the rest of her night.

It's probably already too late for that. The back of Kim's eyes are itchy with tears as she struggles to get free. She's already memorized her mom's smile, trapped forever in radioactive amber, and that alone is enough trauma to fuel ten more terrible dreams.

Nick and Carmina remain peacefully asleep, even as Kim extracts herself from the bed. That's good — the last thing she needs to do is worry Nick, whose own sleeping habits have just started to even out. He'll try to keep her company, and they'll just wind up keeping each other up, which wasn't ideal back in the day and definitely isn't ideal now .

Even though Carmina sleeps like the dead and Nick isn't likely to hear her, Kim is careful to watch out for the creakiest steps as she heads downstairs. Sunrise isn't for a few hours yet, but Kim isn't going to let that stop her from insomnia-pacing around her own home. It used to be that Kim would jog laps on the runway to clear her head, but that isn't going to work nowadays. She still wants to, of course; she's desperate to step out into the relatively cool night air and run herself ragged enough to pass out again, but that's out of the question. She's not about to break her own rule.

It's only once Kim is downstairs that she starts to relax, lighting one of the candles left out on the table. The light is just barely enough to see by, and Kim struggles to find something to clean up or organize in the half-dark. All of the coping mechanisms that got her through eight years of bunker living have fallen flat in the face of the apocalypse, but that doesn't keep her from trying them over and over again. Some techniques are more adaptable, but it isn't like she can dig into reorganizing the hangar for Nick at... whatever time it is now. Not without somebody catching her breaking her own rules about going outside alone.

If she had any books worth reading, she could throw herself into that, but she can't bear the manuals and children's books right now. Maybe if there was a radio station she could listen to... but no, she wouldn't want to risk burning out the radio after everything Nick and John went through to fix it. There's not going to be another Hail Mary when it comes to that kind of repair.

Her mom would probably use this time to make a series of endless lists. Grocery lists, to-do lists, lists of pros and cons for buying new appliances or inviting Kim's awful step-grandmother to her wedding... there was nothing that her mom couldn't organize into a column of bullet points or check-boxes. Kim could probably do with a few lists herself, but where is she supposed to get the paper? And even if a supply list wouldn't be a waste of resources, where would she go to fill it? It's going to be a while before they can pick up flour from the farmer's market again, that's for sure.

Well, at least wasting some paper will keep her mind busy. There's too much stuff they need, and she's going to drive herself crazy trying to remember all of it. Anyway, they've been using decades-old junk mail to prop up the radio desk — it can't be wasted if it was already trash, right?

She's careful in her search for a decent piece of mail, not wanting to tip the radio over as she jimmies a yellowed envelope from under the desk. It's only once she's back at the table with a worn-down nub of a pencil that she finds herself hesitating. After all, what is she supposed to write? What could they reasonably expect to get out here, with no supply chain to rely on? Everything that comes to mind is laughably improbable at best.

It doesn't really matter, though, does it? They're probably not going to be able to find anything besides what they can hunt and grow for themselves, so any food she writes down will be wishful thinking. John had offered to help their scavenging efforts, but it isn't likely they'll find working walkie-talkies or a new car. People who have been above ground longer than the Ryes have already taken over key resource points, and they'll be hard-pressed to give up things without a fair trade. And until they can reliably communicate with one another, trading is going to be nearly impossible. One day, maybe, they'll have trading posts and reliable supply chains, but like other pieces of their fractured society, that's not coming for a long time yet.

Staring at a blank piece of paper is worse than writing something stupid down, and so Kim quickly scribbles the word flour across the top of the envelope. She can't imagine that's going to be a reasonable expectation for a while, but at least it's on paper — and it's outlandish enough that it encourages her to continue, her thoughts darting between impossible dreams and honest reality. Salt , she thinks might not be quite as hard to find. Sugar, probably impossible. For now, they can hope for honey instead.

It goes on like that, growing more abstract as Kim lets herself dream. Milk, eggs, bread, twinkies , meat grinder, hamburgers, tomatoes, grains (seeds), grill (charcoal), gas, gas canisters (storage), duct tape, insulation foam (spray, sheet), toilet cleaner, toilet, hot water, plumbing, bathtub! , tarp, doors, ammunition, floodlights, security system, cans + string (security) —

Her flow is interrupted by a soft, distant thud somewhere upstairs. Kim listens for a few tense seconds, waiting to hear boots on the roof, the hiss of a walkie-talkie, or the slide-click of a gun being cocked. Without the cult, those fears go unrealized, and Kim slumps tiredly into her seat. She's just as paranoid about armed cultists tonight as she is about wild animals, although she's sure that's just her nightmare talking. Eden's Gate is nowhere near the threat it used to be.

The relief is short-lived, as is her solitude, when she hears an upstairs door click shut, followed by the sound of quick footsteps on the landing. The house is too old for any real attempt at stealth, but John tries to avoid the worst offending stairs on his way down. He only realizes Kim is there when he notices the candlelight, coming to an abrupt stop on the last step, one hand clutching the banister tight.

He's sweaty and out of sorts as he wipes his limp hair out of his face. "Oh," he rasps. "Kim."

He's surprised to see her. Kim should be surprised, too — it's one thing to know that John wanders the house at night, but it's another to see it happen in real-time. Honestly, she's barely phased by his appearance. John's sleep schedule has been bunker-erratic ever since Nick brought him home, and no amount of diurnal activity has managed to change it. If anything, Kim suspects he gets less sleep now than he did underground. It isn't for lack of trying, she's sure, but this isn't the first time she's heard him stumbling around in the dark. It's just the first time she's been in the same boat.

"Late night?" she asks.

John struggles once more with the hair in his eyes before giving up. "Just needed some air," he rasps, minding his volume. "Some water."

"Don't mind me," she replies, surprising herself with her own ambivalence. Knowing he moves around while they're sleeping is one thing, but seeing it should be upsetting. It should bother her when he avoids creaky floorboards on his way to help himself to their fresh water. It should make her angry to see him using their resources; at the very least, it should have upset her back when it began normalizing. But, honestly, it hadn't. Kim had just been relieved to see John acting like a person, and not just a haunted shell.

John wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, regarding Kim with deep uncertainty that Kim mostly makes out from his hunched shoulders and tense posture. He tries to hide just how lost he is, but Kim never misses it when he slips. It's not that she's sympathetic towards him, exactly, but she knows just enough about his history to want to pity him.

He doesn't speak, not even after the silence stretches out. Maybe he's waiting for her to make the first move?

The thought almost makes her laugh, but she still cuts him some slack. "Can't sleep either, huh?" she asks.

"Hardly ever," John replies, although he clearly isn't looking for reassurance. He takes a step away from the kitchen, hovering in the nebulous space between the table and the stairs. He's usually quick to leave Kim alone — quicker than he is with Nick, anyway — and so she appreciates the fact that he doesn't run now.

His voice cracks on its low pitch as he haltingly asks, "What are you doing?"

For just a second, Kim imagines giving John the cold shoulder and telling him it's none of his business. But the thought fades as quickly as it comes; it's replaced by the knowledge that John is just as dependent on the family's supplies as she is. Anything she needs, he'll also need. And besides, she's almost positive he'd been in control of the cult's supplies, which means he might have an idea of what they should realistically be looking for. He would know what the cult had planned to do, and she could probably translate that into useful advice.

"Just making a list," she sighs. It sounds stupid enough to make her wince, and she concedes with a joke, "You know, for the next time we're at Wal-Mart."

John huffs in amusement and approaches the table. Now that she's got an audience, Kim wants nothing more to do with the list, and so she pushes towards him before slumping back into her chair. Instead of the quick, distracted glance she had been expecting, John leans over to read it in full. The longer he reads, the more embarrassed Kim is of her late-night daydreaming, but he finishes with the list before she can grab it back.

"Some of these are... more manageable than others," he says, using the same kind of diplomacy he utilizes whenever Nick makes a particularly dumb comment.

"Uh, yeah ," she says, embarrassed even if she isn't surprised. "I know. It was just... taking up space in my head. I needed to write it down, otherwise, I'm going to be up all night."

Kim runs her hand through her hair, waiting for John to retreat as quickly as he'd arrived. Instead, John rereads the list once more. Kim can see his amusement much more plainly as he leans into the candlelight. It highlights the deep bags under his eyes as well, but who isn't carrying that particular mark of exhaustion these days?

"Ammunition isn't as high on the list as I'd imagined," he comments.

"We're okay on bullets for now," she replies. "And it's not like there's much to spare."

Whether or not that satisfies John, Kim isn't sure. He only hums in response, eyes roaming down the paper.

"I see you didn't bother to add more guns."

"We don't need more guns," Kim insists, although it's not strictly true. She's just hesitant to overwhelm the house with firearms. They've been getting on just fine with what they have — any more, and they might turn into a target themselves. One day, sure, they'll need to find something for Carmina to carry on her own, but that day is a long, long way away.

She doesn't need to explain herself to anyone, let alone John Seed, but as he watches her and waits for more, she feels compelled to justify herself. "I don't think we're going to find spare guns or ammunition just lying around, and I'm not about to take them by force. We've managed just fine with what we have."

"For now," John points out. "Things could change. It won't stay this calm forever."

"Why not?" Kim retorts, feeling childish and petulant as soon as the words leave her mouth. "Why do you even care? You're certainly not getting armed."

John clicks his tongue against his teeth. "It's not that," he says, only to abruptly roll over with a muttered, "Never mind."

If John thinks he can avoid the conversation that easily, he has another thing coming. "No, what is it?" she asks.

"It's nothing," he sighs, as if arrogantly dismissing her will keep Kim from pushing. When Kim only frowns unhappily back at him, he reluctantly relents. "Joseph had said taking your weapons was the only way we could ensure you wouldn't use them after the Collapse. And if we didn't lock them away, it would be all you would look for." He stares at the list, although Kim imagines his thoughts are about fifty miles away. "It's stunning how wrong he was about everything. But there are reminders everywhere."

John rarely speaks about Joseph; Kim hasn't heard him broach the subject of his own volition before. The only person who ever talks to him about his brother is Jerome, and those conversations are private and short. Having John bring him up with almost no needling feels like a step forward, even if it's only a small one. Even though John is anxious saying Joseph's name.

It's so easy to forget how much control Joseph had over John. Kim has to make a concentrated effort now and again to remind herself that Joseph hadn't only brainwashed normal, desperate people, but his own family. She can't imagine doing anything to Carmina or Nick that would turn them into the angry, anxious mess John had been even before the Collapse. Not even if it meant they would always do what they were told and would trust her implicitly. She couldn't bear it if Nick ever talked about her the way John talks about Joseph. It's late enough that Kim finds herself wondering how Joseph can even sleep at night.

"It's stupid," John says, taking Kim's contemplative silence as disapproval. "I should have known better."

He inhales, letting out a shaky breath, and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they're suspiciously shiny in the candlelight. It sparks a genuine pang of sympathy in Kim, but there's nothing she can say or do to help him. Nothing she's done so far has made an impact.

"Some of this is reasonable enough," John says, desperately trying to redirect the conversation back to the list. It's an obvious, flat-footed attempt to avoid a tender spot in his psyche, but Kim is willing to let it slide.

"Sure, eventually . But we're a long way off from hot baths and backyard barbecues, much less flour and sugar."

"Those are... less reasonable," he admits, dragging his finger across one of the harder to come by items. Still, he isn't nearly as deterred as she is. "But not everything is impossible to come by. Insulation, for one. Tarp, duct tape. Components like that should be easy enough to find." He taps his finger against the envelope. "And there still places to investigate. Root cellars nobody bothered to touch. Caches you never found. Things hidden in places you wouldn't know to look, especially if you weren't in the Project."

Frowning, Kim rereads a few of the items upside-down from her side of the table. "It's been almost nine years," Kim points out, reluctant to get her hopes up so easily. "Isn't it more likely that everything good has already been discovered?"

Still... John's mentioned secret Eden's Gate supplies before. Given the size of the project and how long they were operating in the county, it's not impossible that some of their hidden stashes haven't been found yet. And they were planning for the apocalypse, right? They'd likely have saved things that could last for a long time. John isn't wrong — more ammunition and more weapons would be helpful. At the very least, they could help arm other survivors.

"It wouldn't hurt to have a look, I guess," Kim relents after thinking it over. "How good is your memory?"

That earns her a rare, quiet chuckle from John. "Middling to poor," he admits, "Although if I had a map, it would help. It would make it easier to mark what I remember."

"To think, it only took nine years and an apocalypse for you to finally hand over the intel."

John huffs, but his response is only mildly offended. "Do you want what I have to offer, or not?"

"Don't be like that," Kim says, placating him with a smile. "It would be a big help. It'll help me sleep better, anyway."

It seems there's more on John's mind than Kim teasing him, since he takes the non-apology and moves on without a fight. "Jacob had caches buried for after the Reaping," he says. "They'll most likely be weapons, but he was... hard to read. It could be that he stored survival equipment in one. There were a few in the valley, but most of them would be in the mountains."

Kim shakes her head at that. "As far as I've heard, nobody's made it very far north. And the stories I have heard aren't good. The dam broke, so a lot of the area is flooded, and supposedly the radiation is still pretty bad."

John hums briefly as he considers the facts. He leans contemplatively over the list, and for a moment Kim wonders if this was a common occurrence for him before the Collapse. How many late nights did he spend bent over a map while his brothers watched and waited for his decisions? She has to suspect it was a lot, because this is the first time she's seen John look even remotely confident.

That confidence is clear in his voice as he remarks defiantly, "I suppose the valley will do until we get airborne again. Let flooding stop us then ."

"Oh, okay," Kim laughs, checking her volume before she lets her amusement wake up the rest of her family. "You are just like Nick. Neither of you are going to give up until you get back in the sky, huh?"

"Exactly," John replies. "I won't trust anybody else to do it. Realistically, a helicopter would be the best option..."

"Oh, right," Kim chuckles. " Realistically ."

John taps accusingly at the list and raises an eyebrow at her. "Less realistic than hot water and iodized table salt?"

If Kim didn't know better, she might think that John is actually teasing her. He normally saves that kind of attitude for Nick, who prefers arguing through and around problems. Kim, on the other hand, rarely has the energy to deal with avoidance tactics, and so she tends to demand his sincerity. Thankfully, the liminal time of just-about-three has softened her stance on the matter.

"Okay," she relents with a smile. "Sure. Might as well add helicopters to the list." It would be a pretty big get for them, all things considered. And anyway, John's right — Kim wouldn't trust flying in a plane jury-rigged together by anyone other than Nick.

But that's a resource that will come in the nebulous future, and Kim's too realistic to worry years in advance right now. There are more pressing concerns to deal with, first — like food, water and security. Any caches John can find will at least fulfill one of those priorities, although Kim can't imagine the cult storing anything other than ammunition and weapons. But even if the caches don't pan out, they might find valuable scrap, like logs for firewood, furniture they can re-purpose, or even old survivalist caches that nobody thought to dig up after the world ended. And now that there are four of them, Kim won't feel so uncomfortable when Nick wants to drive to the middle of nowhere looking for supplies.

Kim sighs with relief, feeling a weight roll off her back that she hadn't been trying to remove. "Things will be a lot easier if you can help us with supplies. And I'll feel better about Nick going out if he has somebody to watch his back."

John pulls the same face he usually makes when someone implies they trust him. Kim could ignore it — after all, John doesn't need to believe they trust them for it to be true. Too bad for him, it's too late at night for her to turn a blind eye. "Oh, get over it," she tells him, unable to help a lopsided smile at his offended scowl. "I seriously doubt you're planning on murdering us at this point. And I know Nick is smart enough to knock the crap out of you if he thinks you've changed your mind."

"I won't," John immediately replies.

Kim believes him, if only because there's nobody left for John to rely on other than them. "Good. Because if I can trust you, that means I won't worry about Nick when he decides to go farther than town. It means we can spend more meaningful time with Carmina, too. Anyway, Nick likes bossing you around, and you like being bossed around, so everybody wins."

John ducks his head, embarrassed, but Kim laughs to let him know she's only teasing. "Seriously," she says, relenting for his benefit, "It does help. It's good to have somebody else to rely on."

"I... want to be helpful," John replies, although Kim suspects that he might be confusing his wants and needs again. It's not quite a compulsion anymore, but even John's most heated attempts to argue about a job end with him rolling over quick. He hasn't outright refused to do something, and Kim doesn't think he ever will, if only to prove to himself one more time that he might actually be capable of change.

It might get annoying one day, but for now, Kim can respect his intense desire to make amends. She just wishes he would accept some form of gratitude or praise in return, to make it less awkward on her end.

Kim rests her hands momentarily on the tabletop, tapping her fingers briefly against the wood. "Okay," she softly declares, "I think I'm going to try to get back to sleep." Whatever she winds up dreaming about now, she's pretty sure it won't be the same awful nightmare again — and that's at least partially because of John's intervention. She figures it's worth telling him as much. "You made a pretty good distraction, so thanks."

He nods immediately in response. "Of course," he replies, momentarily bewildered as he checks Kim's expression for signs of sarcasm or annoyance. His posture relaxes as Kim stands, although Kim imagines his relief is temporary. He's pretty good at working himself up into anxious frenzies — staying out of them is another matter entirely.

"Try to get some sleep yourself, okay?" Kim suggests.

There's no way John means it when he says, "I will," but at least he's willing to placate her instead of getting mad at her being concerned in the first place.

"And try not to wake up Carmina."

John nods affirmatively. Kim's positive that he'll sneak outside once she's gone upstairs, but at least he's waiting patiently for her to leave. If it weren't for her returning exhaustion, Kim might've used him as an excuse to do her own late-night workout, but it'll have to do to merely turn a blind eye to him edging around her rule about going out after dark alone. Kim and Nick have both been woken up by the exterior doors, but John never goes beyond the planters out back, and he always closes up when he comes back in. Kim could call him out on it, but... well, it seems like he needs the freedom.

Kim says goodnight and is mildly surprised when John returns it without any lingering sarcasm. He must be pretty tired, but that's not really a surprise. Hopefully, he'll try to take some of her concern to heart, or at least pretend for her sake.

Although Carmina is definitely still asleep when Kim returns to the bedroom, Nick is watching her with bleary-eyed curiosity. He waits until she's closed the door to speak up, and even then it's a dull, quiet whisper.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

He doesn't mind waiting for Kim to creep back to bed before she answers. "It is," she tells him, gratefully crawling into bed as he opens his arms for her. He folds his arms over her shoulders, letting her wiggle into a comfortable spot before she explains in a whisper. "I needed to move around, and John came downstairs. That's all."

"Hope he wasn't a creep," Nick mumbles into her hair. Kim sighs laughingly into his collarbone, which is already sticking to her cheek with sweat. There's no way she's going to be wrapped up in Nick's arms all night, not when it's this hot, but she'll appreciate it while she's got it.

"Not yet," Kim says. "Just talking about supplies." She presses a kiss to Nick's shoulder and whispers, "We'll talk about it in the morning."

Nick hums happily into Kim's hair. "Sounds good to me," he mumbles. The less they talk about John Seed, the better, after all. Especially right now, when they're tangled up in bed with their daughter snoring next to them; there's no room for serious conversation, and there's absolutely no room for John. There's no space for the nightmares that woke her, either; as Kim falls asleep, Nick's hand tangled up in her hair, she thankfully forgets everything save for a warm, melancholy amber glow.

#fc5 #fcnd #john seed #kim rye #far cry new dawn #its only the first 5 right i can't remember #i feel like i was channeling james a janice here for a minute #HEY GUYS welcome to the kill count where we'll be tallying up all the skeletons in john seed's closet #mercyverse #my fic

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humanemotionssuck · 4 years

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Hello 2021

January 2, 2021

I should’ve put these thoughts into words on the first day of the year but then again, I felt so lazy given this bed weather we are currently having. By far, I think I experienced the coldest temperature here in my hometown (21 degrees baby) and I’m sure not liking it as I prefer warm days.

I actually do not know how to start. I feel it’s necessary to check on how I am doing lately. Write the things I experienced last year and reflect on the lessons it taught me.

I could probably kick things off by remembering how 2020 started for me. I have a bad memory but I’ll try my best to recall them.

January

Broke up with J (yes this is probably one of the major and heartbreaking events happened to me). To sum it up, I realized that the relationship does not have growth anymore, and I am slowly drifting to follow my own path, which is to focus on the plans I want. I haven’t thought deeply the lessons I learned in my past relationship yet but one thing is for sure, I changed and I want to explore more of what I can do or what I’m missing out in life. Which brings me to attend seminars on how to work/study abroad. I attended a couple (e.g Fortrust Makati) and I also realized how costly it will be and I’m probably not yet ready esp. on the financial aspect.

February – March

Highlight on these months was I got back to dating apps again. I know it was a complete dick move. I haven’t moved on yet and here I am in the pool again. I met 2 guys from this app, Coffee Meets Bagel (which btw I uninstalled few months after). The first guy was the introvert but funny type and also VERY sexual. I got along with it, tried to do the deed but failed cause the guy hasn’t moved on from the ex yet. (Sucks right). And so I met this second guy and he is decent but we really had completely different personality. I believe this guy is also rich (he came from a Chinese family and I went to his house and saw the maid and his stuff). Can you also believe he already introduced me to his mom (no dad cause broken family), uncle and grandma. Pressured si ate gurl syempre cause it was really too early to do that step since we’re just dating but March was the most difficult month because…

START OF LOCKDOWN. PH was in state of panic after the government announced a nationwide lockdown due to increased COVID-19 transmission. I immediately went on a bus to the province fearing to get stuck in Manila.

April

Nah this was just a typical month. Summer vibes all over but since we cannot go to the beach we just setup an inflatable pool in the house to get soaked. I finally posted a pic wearing a swimsuit again. My stagnant IG feed came to life lmao

May

Oh boy. This month sucks so much. I got typhoid fever. Which I thought was COVID already cause my fever just won’t stop. My mom didn’t want me to get admitted in the hospital in the fear of being infected so I was hooked in the IV here in the house. I felt I was dying. I was in huge pain both physically and mentally. Which forced me to end any communication means with the second guy. He was not there when I was sick. I didn’t feel his concern even if we’re miles apart and I felt I was begging for his attention. It just won’t work. He blocked me in his socials (which is a first for me, usually I am the one who blocks lol) but given the current state I have now, I learned to accept it and chose to move forward.

June

Explored options on work/study program abroad. We got a new car (Xpander) which my father was able to purchase after borrowing money from us. That money could’ve been used for my Japan trip on December (plot twist it was cancelled due to fucking corona) but it’s okay I guess I’ll save another again.

I also got my student permit (yes I learned how to drive months after hehe)

July

THIS WAS MY BIGGEST DOWNFALL FOR THIS YEAR. There were some modifications in the quarantine and so my employer required and FORCED us to report on site in Makati despite of high number of positive cases. All I can say is SCREW THEM and I hope karma will do its thing on their business. The management.. the bosses.. they are all inconsiderate fucks for not allowing me to work at home instead. The situation forced me to resign but they chose to terminate me instead. The unemployment took its toll on my mental health, it caused me great depression and anxiety which forced me to look for distractions.. anything that will ease my mind.

Oh and btw, I bought my first laptop from hard earned money. Oh boy, it was satisfying to give myself the things my parents couldn’t afford that time I was still in school. It’s a gaming laptop and the one I’m using to type now. I absolutely love it and I used it to find online jobs later on..

I read Looking for Alaska by John Green again after watching the TV series on Hulu. Geez, this has to be my favorite book so far. The seeking of great perhaps.. which was very timely on my mood while having nothing else to do.

Lastly, TAYLOR SWIFT RELEASED A NEW ALBUM CALLED FOLKLORE. In the middle pandemic? Awesome right and this album kept me sane during this crazy and miserable month. Oh and on December, she released folklore’s sister album.. Evermore. Miss Swift saved me again with her music. This will definitely be one of the albums I will play when I’m old and gray knitting sweaters and wearing cardigan.

August

I started and finished my driving lesson in manual. JFC, I realized driving gives me a huge anxiety. One thing is for sure, I will prefer to drive automatic. Not driving that shit again.

I was still hooked with Looking for Alaska. Also purchased Subtle Art of not Giving a F*ck on the time I bought LFA.

On the other hand, I was also actively looking for new jobs this time.

September

ON SEPT. 30 I GOT HIRED! I was super happy to start on a new job. It gave me hope once again to continue on this journey called life. After almost 3 months, we are def back to business!

I also got the chance to get this Thyroid issue checked. Unfortunately, there was no major stuff going on with my thyroid. Basically, I’m perfectly healthy. What sucks is that the doctor invalidated my previous condition and said I only have ~anxiety which is the cause of my symptoms (excessive sweating and palpitations). I will seek professional help on this anxiety stuff anytime in the future.

Lastly, I played Grand Chase again and met someone in the game. Well technically we haven’t met yet but since then, I got used to talking with this guy and he is part of my daily routine now. I won’t spoil much details but as soon as this is all over, I can’t wait to meet this person :)

*cue Grand Chase soundtrack*

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoK0bAjsHoo

October

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEE! It was a typical birthday. I don’t have much realizations. If I had one, I need to think thoroughly again lol.

Busy with training on the new job and this has been the most challenging training I ever had since I started working.

NOVEMBER

WORK WORK WORK. Super stressed and my anxiety was on the roof. I thought of giving up already but then again it was too early to quit. I haven’t seen my full potential on this job yet and so I chose to keep on fighting.

I also finally got braces. Let’s get these smiles fixed.

December

WORK WORK WORK AGAIN. My work caused me a huge anxiety cause I was given high priority cases -.-But overall, I can say the holidays went great. I finally got to spend time with the family outside. Don’t worry cause we still practiced precautions and I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go out once in a while to have some fresh air. We went to the beach and pretty much that’s the highlight of this month.

Things are getting serious with this guy I’m talking about.. Seriously, he makes me happy every single day.

I also won in Christmas raffle. Oppo phone. (I have the odds in my favor when it comes to raffles lol)

Feels weird to celebrate this holiday too thinking a lot of hardships were experienced in the last few months of quarantine. I was thinking about all the lives lost by covid and hoping they are in the peaceful place now..

JANUARY (NOW)

After everything that happened, oddly the start of the year gives me a sense of hope. Sure I am still carrying the trauma 2020 gave me but I am slowly leaving all of them behind. I want a fresh start and I want to let go of the things that gave me pain. I don’t have solid resolutions just like in my teenage years. Guess I’m too old for that. Not saying it’s okay to not have plans for the future and just go with the flow but I promise to not be too hard on myself and to not pressure myself on the goals I haven’t achieved yet. It’s really a struggle to plan things ahead given the situation but as always, I will do my best. I will stop comparing my progress to somebody else’s cause everyone has their own timeline.

I will listen to my heart and my mind to determine the things I really want. I promise to reevaluate the decisions I am making each day. I will not be afraid of making mistakes because that’s how I learn.

I am embracing my anxiety of uncertainty. It’s okay to feel afraid because I am always trying on how to overcome my fear. I strive each day because I am more than just a ball of anxiety. The palpitations.. the sweating.. they don’t define me. I have the power to control them and they won’t stop me from being the better version of myself.

#quaranthings #just quarantine thoughts #2020 #bye2020 #new year

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hollerace · 4 years

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Mrs. Wahlstrom--Feb 5, 2021

How do you get into a fight the first time you see someone? When you’re the ripe old age of six? That’s the way it happened with Lloyd Tichey and me. We had just moved in to Midfield Avenue. I saw a kid across the street, playing between the two garages that took up the block. I crossed the street to inspect and got pelted with a clod of dirt for my trouble. I found a hiding spot and armed myself. After a brief fusillade, I poked my head out; so did Lloyd, who said, “My mom’s got iced tea.” Within first sips, our friendship was cemented. Lloyd was younger than I, not by much. He was a bit taller (who wasn't?) and better at sports and games. The surrounding streets were our arena, with plenty of kids and fewer cars. Were moms really allowed to drive? Not in our neighborhood. It didn’t take us long to confront a common enemy. Mrs. Wahlstrom lived next to me and anointed herself the personal enemy of kids having fun. She appeared regularly in attempts to quelch our enjoyment. Some of the games could attain high volume levels, particularly kickball. The sport was similar to baseball. An inflated ball would be rolled to the “batter.” You can figure out the rest. Four bases, hits, runs, enjoyment. Wacky Wahlstrom, as we called her, used her porch as her pulpit. Fortunately for us, she was a native Swedish (we guessed) speaker. Diatribes, accompanied by boney, croney finger-points, began with, “You keeds,” followed by screechy, unintelligible syllables, accented with various avian screeches, hoots and gabbling. Since she was a grownup, we didn’t sass her back, nor did we listen to her admonitions. Occasionally, a ball would find its way onto her porch. The nearest kid would race up there to retrieve the precious piece before she could confiscate it. Lloyd Tichey (pronounced “Ticky”) feared her least. He would march right up to Mrs. Wahlstrom and face her down until she surrendered whatever she had just nicked from us. One time, during a game break, I opined, “I wonder if there was ever a Mister Wahlstrom?” Several theories ensued. Lloyd’s stance was, “There was a guy, once. He musta killed himself.” We howled. Lloyd had an older brother, Barry, who was in my grade. He was quiet, virtually tacit, forever riding his bike down to Birch Creek to fish. An even older brother (Jimmy, I think) lived elsewhere. He was wild-eyed with bushy uneven hair and given to loud forms of addressing anyone. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TIMMY?” he would shriek as he raced from his car to the house. I never knew how to answer him. Mr. Tichey was a dapper, tanned, mustachioed man who travelled for work. His wife always looked furrowed; she seemed to worry a weathered washcloth in her hands as she walked about the neighborhood. She was followed everywhere by Baby Myra, a rotund little girl whose face needed constant swipes by her mom’s accessory. Their house smelled of cabbage. All the kids looked to Lloyd for leadership. He was a skilled organizer of games--a natural arbiter. If there was ever a problem, Lloyd seemed to rule. For a time, Dark Mark Longuiel, who lived down by The Field, started hanging around our street. He readily disagreed with anyone, and always seemed champing for a dispute. He even got mad at Ellen Botsford, who was far and away the prettiest girl who played with us. (Yes, we needed no Title IX; we just naturally went co-ed.). Lloyd Tichey got in his face. Harsh words, no blows, no Mark. As we grew, street play lost its popularity. We rarely saw Mrs. Wahlstrom. Once, when she was inching her ancient DeSoto down the driveway at a glacier’s pace, little Martin Botsford yelled, “Hey, Wacky Wahlstrom!” Lloyd immediately shut him down. “Leave her be,” he said sharply. Little Martin was already growing into quite the pain. But the little old lady seemed to fade into her dun, once-burgundy house. “She must have eighty Wiffle Balls in there,” remarked Lloyd one time. He remained an untitled leader in the ‘hood, but I was his consigliere, so to speak. Lloyd would ask me Big Questions. Many of these were about the aforementioned Ellen Botsford.

We were approaching the age where kickball dimmed in intergender activities. Most summer evenings, we played a game of Chase. This was a sort of an offshoot of the classic pastime, but much more hiding was effected as opposed to any seeking. I was just emerging from one of my favorite lairs, behind Crabby Creiner’s shed. I just happened to spy Lloyd Tichey and Ellen Botsford sneaking out of Muldoon’s lot, which provided excellent leafy cover. They were holding hands.

Wait! What? Suddenly, the rules of every game changed. Such manual interlocking was a brave, new world to a pre-shaving Catholic boy, at once exciting and terrifying. But Lloyd and Ellen? No way! No wonder all the questions.

I guess I liked some girls. There was a brief crush on Lisa Longborg, who was our eighth-grade lunch monitor. A veritable amazon at five-seven, she would camp at Sister’s desk while we ate on days too wet for recess. I would invent reasons to approach the desk while she sat there, imperious over her bologna-on-Wonder (pencil-sharpening was a good one), managing to sneak glances at her ever-burgeoning mammarial development. I wasn’t the only boy to attempt this ruse.

There was also the exotic, raven-tressed Ann Marie Pandolfo, whose glamour faded for me when she ironed a Paul Anka image on the back of her coat. This also garnered the disapproval of The Good Sisters.

I barely had the chance to recover from this tectonic shift in my life-views when another tremor hit. Lloyd announced that his family was moving up to Northfield, a suburb some ten miles north of town.

It seems Mr. Tichey had earned some sort of promotion at work, enabling his brood to improve their lifestyles. I was forlorn at first, then resigned.

The school year was bearable (Lloyd went to the public school), but that first summer loomed dusty, empty and stifling. There was the LAG (Lark Avenue Gang) for fun, just a couple of blocks away. Games of Chase still took place. Again I hid alone, noticing that more and more couples were pairing off.

My father even drove me up to Northford once to visit. The streets had no sidewalks or phone poles, with names like Chipshot Road or Rolling Mews Lane.

The Ticheys had a big, split-level ranch, a bigger yard. As neat as it was to see Lloyd, the entire scenario loomed disjoint, foreign. Even Baby Myra seemed clean, and the house didn’t smell of cabbage

.I didn’t realize our city was slowly draining. People, stores and services were migrating. And a friendship faded, tattered pages of memories from a book hidden away on a musty shelf.

Not long after, I went off to Campion Prep; Lloyd ended up at Northfield High. I found the drums and Lloyd did the same for basketball. Our teams never played each other, for my school kept an urban schedule. But the Despatch would cover Lloyd’s games, where his star would shine brighter as we neared graduation.

No sports legend, I even took Ellen Botsford to the movies once. She later ditched me for a Campion U. guy who had a sleek Honda bike. Who could blame her?

When I returned home after my freshman year at Sacre Coeur College, I fielded an odd phone call. It was from Mrs. Tichey. Her voice trembled as she told me how Lloyd had joined the Marines right after graduation. This unnerved me. I had thought for sure that a hoops scholarship awaited him. I asked for a way to get in touch. She gave me an FPO address. I wrote to him in vain.

Two summers later, I was rehearsing nightly with a local band, awaiting our maiden visit to a recording studio. One evening, a long Cadillac convertible pulled up to the house. Inside was Lloyd Tichey, in civilian clothes, but looking every bit the cut-and-pressed Marine.

Surprised, I hopped in, and we drove down to Lady’s, the seawall where Park Terrace met the Sound. It was his father’s ride, but Lloyd produced some cold Schaefers.

“I’m sick of this Honor Guard, shit, Timmy,” he began. An influential state senator from Northfield had arranged for Lloyd to secure this light-duty post at the governor’s mansion in Hartford.

“But, Lloyd,” I said, “this keeps you out of the war. Easy going.”

“Bullshit. Anyone can carry a flag. I’m a Marine; I want to fight.” I saw this was no time to voice my concerns over the Viet mess we had gotten into. His anger blossomed: sharp eyes, tightened features. I felt the tension.

We drank in silence. We both knew an argument was futile. As he dropped me off, we shared a brief hug, something we had never done as kids.

Our lives, like two opposing streams, changed courses, each divining its own path, surging forward in separate worlds.The ne

xt May, I read in the paper about Operation Georgia in Viet Nam. What made me notice was that the 9th Marines were involved. Lloyd’s unit.

I didn’t get a phone call. Reading the article in the Despatch galvanized my spine. I didn’t care about the heroes in Quang Nam province. But the article did include that a Lloyd Tichey of Northford wouldn’t be returning home. His remains, however, would.

I gleaned that there would be full military honors at Quantico, but not until a viewing was scheduled here in the city.My mom had sold the house by then, but on the day of the wake, I drove down Midfield Avenue. Why? An unseen force directed me down our old street. Maybe I wasn’t that surprised to see a cab pulled up next door to my old house.

I parked and walked over to the cabbie. “What’s the fare?”

“Some Mrs. Wallstorm. Goin’ ta Wolke’s funeral parlor. Sposta wait.”

I tipped him and told him to grab a better fare. Soon, she appeared on her porch. Hunched over like a question mark, she made for the stairs. I hustled over to help her. How old could she be? She seemed ancient when we were kids. I cradled her elbow as she descended.

“I gotcha, Mrs. Wahlstrom,” I said. She finally looked up, peering at me through veiled, powdery crinkles. I was afraid her arm, impossibly frail, would collapse under my grip.

“Oh,” she said, “leetle Teemy. We go see Lloyd, no?”

We drove the mile or so in silence. Every other time I had listened to her, she was yelling at me. This, somehow, seemed more appropriate.

My buddy, Juice Staley, worked at Wolke’s, so he procured a wheelchair for my passenger, who seemed grateful. We briefly stood beside the closed casket, bedecked with Old Glory. We were greeted by a forlorn Mrs. Tichey, looking uncomfortable in a dress. No husband in sight. She was propped up by Myra, now a young woman. I could see Mrs. Tichey’s washcloth lingering on a nearby chair. Jimmy, no longer wild-eyed, comforted Barry. The scene was fraught with an uncomfortable confusion.

No one seemed to recognize Mrs. Whalstrom, and I saw no fruit in explaining who she was. Some folks, obviously from the suburbs, entered to pay respects. This eased my tautness. Mrs. Wahlstrom gave me a look that said, “Enough,” and we made our way out.

We passed a Marine officer, all gussied up in his dress blues. He said, “Folks, you might want to stay. We are having a color guard, and an armed salute…”

Mrs. Wahlstrom, still in her wheelchair, was having none of this. “YOU GO TO HELL, MEESTER! ALL YOU KNOW IS FIGHT! FOR WHAT? TO KEEL YOUNG BOYS LIKE LLOYD!”

The man bristled and said, “You best get her out of here, you damned hippie,” he said. I answered with a mock, left-handed salute.

All Mrs. W. could manage on the drive home was, “I guess I told heem!”

At her house, she said, “You come in for tea, Teemy. You must.” How could I refuse this?I had never dared to venture through the door before this moment. I was a bit frightened as I did so. “You seet, Teemy,” she said, leading me into a living room. I rested, cradled in comfy cushions bedecked with lace antimacassars. I could smell the furniture polish and soak in the patina of age that seemed to settle on everything.

Then, I shot out of my seat, drawn to an opposite wall. It was covered with decorations, almost a shrine. There were dreamed newspaper clippings (“Tichey Scores 38 in Tourney Win”); pictures of Lloyd as an All-Stater. Handshakes, trophies: a celebration of Lloyd’s career. Looking further, I could see clips from my Who’s Who in American Colleges honors. Even that shot from an old Billboard when they handed out those Sesame Street gold records.

I stood there, in awe (was it joy? terror?) as she brought in the tea. She sensed my questions as we sat.“

I had no keeds, Teemy. You and Lloyd--good boys. Noisy but good. So I follow you, like you was my own boys.”

As the murky, late-afternoon sun slithered through the blinds, I could hear the thump of a ball and the shouts of youth. I fought tears mightily.

Somehow, it all made sense.

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datingintampafails · 4 years

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Chapter 25: Jake* Part 3

A Weird Weekend

He is still at his parents’ and is sufficiently drunk, sends me these:

Hindsight 20/20, I see that him saying not to take meeting his mom and step-dad serious didn’t so much mean “it’s not a big deal to them they're chill,” and probably more of a, “I don’t want you thinking this is a monumental step towards a full-fledged relationship.” But back to the story, he sends me a location pin and I head over that way with an overnight bag. At his mom’s place, he stays in a camper that is in their huge backyard, which he calls his “apartment.” This way I knew we would have our own space. At this point, I will be getting there almost at one in the morning, so I don’t really know what to expect.

When I turn onto his mom’s street, I call him as instructed. He comes out of a house and directs me to park by a fence, where I can see their boat over the fence. I’m not sure why he made this out to be so difficult but it’s fine. He walks me into the home and towards the backyard, where they have a beautiful setup. It is a fairy-light decorated area, with a pool, hot tub, patio set, multiple TVs, and a bar. Immediately I am thinking, I could definitely want to hang out here with him in the future. His step-dad has already gone to bed, but his mom did wait for me. Because it is still COVID times, I wave rather than a handshake and say it’s really great to meet her. His mom is truly very gorgeous. She’s wearing glasses but otherwise looks like Connie Britton from American Horror Story, 9-1-1, Nashville, etc. I’m not going to list her whole IMDB for you, you have Google.

After meeting me she says she’s going to bed. His two dogs are running around and being silly. We sit for maybe a couple of minutes before he says he wants to go to sleep too. We walk over to his camper with our phone flashlights on, as I am warned there may be some poop piles in our paths. In the camper are a bunk bed set, a large king-sized bed, a small kitchenette, and a small bathroom. I’m advised that only #1s are allowed in the bathroom there, and otherwise, I would need to go inside. With that in mind, I say I’m going to use the camper bathroom real quick. The sink isn’t working, but I brought hand sanitizer so I just used that to clean my hands afterward.

His one dog is content being alone on the bunk bed, but the younger one must be sleeping with us in the bed. My experience with intoxicated Jake*, very text thus far, is that he is sweet and in touch with his feelings. Today I see a different side of him that honestly, I am not thrilled about.

We are in bed together and he initiates sex, but with the tight corners, it is more tantric than climactic. He again jokes about “good girl” and at one point has his hands on my neck, which I tell him I really don’t like. When we aren’t intertwined, I try to tell him more about my previous abusive relationship, to explain why I don’t like choking in bed. He stops me and says “I don’t want to hear this. It’ll just make me really mad. I’ll want to kill the guy. I’m serious. Like I would drive up to Ohio and kick his ass.” These comments are both kind of sweet that he cares, but also a little scary. On and off with sexual activity, he does upset me once again when he seems disgruntled with my lack of being able to go real hard while I’m on top, “come on…” That irritates me to the point that I more or less give up and turn away from him, laying on my side. I’m for whatever reason sensitive and tear up a little.

We talk about other stuff and it makes me feel better. All along, his dog is still in bed with us, just curled up and sleeping, he is closer to me than Jake*. Finally, we decide to actually attempt falling asleep. At around 4 in the morning, maybe an hour or so after we decided to go to bed, the dog that was in the bed is doing laps: jumping off the bed, running across the camper, jumping back on the bed, rinse and repeat. Obviously, this activity stirs me. We yell at him more or less to go to bed. Maybe five minutes later, I hear a noise, half-awake, after a few seconds of comprehending the noise, I realize what is going on.

“JAKE* YOUR DOG IS PISSING. YOUR DOG IS PISSING RIGHT NOW!” The dog is next to me standing on the bed, peeing. I scare the dog and the dog jumps off the bed. Jake* now is also yelling at the dog. I grab my phone and turn on the flashlight in the dark camper to see what the damage is. There is pee everywhere. I mean everywhere. Thankfully, I have none on me, but the rest of the bed that was more or less in front of me is soaked, the floor all the way up to the stairs by the door is covered in liquid. My shoes that were by the door have pee on them. My underpants and shorts I had at the foot of the bed have pee on them. The other bunk bed, which apparently the dog had jumped onto while running away, also had piss all over it. Ironically, the only area that didn’t have pee on it was the bathroom.

Jake* makes both of the dogs leave the camper, I grab some paper towels and start trying to get the floor cleaned at least. He is telling me I don’t have to clean and I insist. He grabs the comforter and mattress topper and is making a pile, cursing continuously. At this point, we are just so tired and are speechless otherwise. I complain about pee being on my stuff and ask for a trash bag for me to put my pee covered clothes in, which he hands me. I stand by the door, just staring at Jake*, while he is cussing still and repeating “I’m gonna kill that fucking dog.” At this point, due to the dog running all over the place, there isn’t anywhere for us both to sleep.

“Jake*, you can do whatever you want, but I am going home. You can come with me, let’s just go to sleep and I’ll bring you back in the morning.” He thinks it over and says finally “fuck it yeah let’s go. He can sleep outside I don’t give a fuck.” The other dog, he brings inside, the bad one is still somewhere in the fenced yard. So now slightly after four in the morning, we get in my car and I drive back to my place, about 30 minutes away, so we can finally sleep.

I am quiet the whole way, he keeps on and off cursing and repeating that he’s going to kill his dog. This dog was supposedly his baby, his favorite. I ask him if it’s okay for my dog to sleep with us, reminding him that she is a good girl and wouldn’t do any shenanigans. He is not against all dogs at the moment and agrees she’s a good dog. When we finally get back to my place, I ask that we both at least wash our feet before going to my bed. We wash our feet and I say I’m going to more or less fully shower since I was right by the dog when it started peeing and I feel dirty. He goes to bed without me, and when I walk in it’s him and my dog. He isn’t asleep yet so we cuddle, drifting away to sleep in each others’ arms. I have never slept so well with another man, but then again, we also are absolutely exhausted at this point.

In the morning we wake up, have morning sex three times, I only remember this because I text him about it, and more or less lay in bed until 10. Jake* had texted his mom about what had happened, and she says in the morning that she will take care of it and is amazed at the damage done. He and I decide to go get breakfast. We go to McDonald’s thinking that they still have breakfast, but by the time we get there it’s only lunch. Defeated, I just ask for french fries. We eat back at my place, and his mom comes and picks him up around 11 or so.

We are sitting on the couch together as he is getting up to leave, and we sit together on a manually reclining part of the couch. He goes to close the legs back down, and my ankle apparently is in the way. It gets caught and scrapes the back of my ankle, along my Achilles. I scream out, and he apologizes. I know it was an accident so I just hobble over to my fridge and grab an ice pack for myself. This mistake now has literally left me a literal scar on my ankle, so I will never forget him in a way.

My new car is ready, so I pick it up later that day while he is hanging out with family friends. He sends me lots of pictures of himself. One with an older woman I mistake for his mom, because I have terrible facial recognition, and one of him smoking a cigar. My best friend hits me up and so we decide to hit the town in my new whip, going to Armature works. We discuss food and how Armature Works is too expensive, his words not mine, and gives me alternatives, theoretically:

I didn't hear from him for a couple hours, so I text him again later that night. I’m having issues with charging my car, a hybrid, so I’m picking his brain to figure out solutions. He offers to mess with it when he comes over the next day. At this point I have more or less three home projects for him to help me with, none of which ever get done.

Now it is Sunday! Time for him to cook for me. I mention that at this point we have a yellow heart on snapchat, indicating we are each other’s #1 best friend. I then further explain the emojis of Snapchat.

He mentions again his parents are asking about me. He’s also expressed that he has since forgiven his dog and is back to loving him. Jake* is out on the boat, I am jealous, and gives me step by step progress of him leaving, docking the boat, driving back home, taking a shower, etc.

He responds with a “maybe.” Which is a lie, because he is considering his options of going back to school or joining the army, the latter which I am not thrilled about, because already I care about him deeply and don’t want him to die or be hurt.

He arrives and I get out all of the ingredients needed for our sloppy joes. He is cooking when my mom calls. After discussing what he needs to discuss, she says she wants to talk to him. I put her on speakerphone and he is very kind. She asks him a question that is along the lines of, “Are you sassy?” And he says “Yeah but your daughter is pretty sassy too, but I like it.” He throws his “ma’am”s and makes up for a previous time when she got a less than great exposure to him. I had forgotten when in the timeline this story was, but now I am realizing it happened before this.

~~FLASHBACK STORY!~~

Earlier in the week, one night after work I went to Jake*’s to spend time together. I stuck around for a while then he was saying he wanted pizza and dinner. I needed to make a meal box kit so in the end, we decided that I would go back home, he would go pick up his order from Domino’s, then he would come to my place for us to hang out. He didn’t tell me necessarily when he was on his way from Domino’s I just knew to expect him eventually. My mom calls me and we are chatting for a while. I have my Airpods in. I hear a knock at the door while I’m on the phone and know it is him. I answer the door, “hey!” And what he says, normally 100% I would love and think was totally funny, which granted I still loved and thought it was funny. After my greeting he says “Yeah, uh, I have a delivery for you….. Except it’s not pizza, it’s actually my dick.” I stare at him, half smiling, half mouth agape as I utter, “I’m on the phone with my mom.” He mouths, “oh shit,” and I through laughter ask my mom if she heard him, she did not, but I’m still just laughing and laughing and finally just feel like explaining it to my mom so she doesn’t think I’m crazy. I told her that he had a pizza, and essentially said that the pizza had sausage… except he didn’t say sausage. She kind of chuckles but is like “oh, okay.” At that point I say I have to go and hang up. Jake* is confused like, “why in the world did you tell her,” and my only defense was that it was really funny.

After that, I was cooking, but he actually took over the cooking because I was “relying too much on the recipe” and more or less he thought he could do better. I was all for it, and just stood in the kitchen while he finished cooking my food for me. It was pretty good with the slight improvements he made to the technique, better than it would have been I’m sure. A lady could get used to this…. He apologized briefly for taking over the cooking, but believe me when I say, I was not insulted in the least.

~~Exit Flashback~~

The sloppy joes he makes this night are amazing, we each have two each. And we spend the rest of the night canoodling. Again he leaves, because of his headaches. At this point it is a chronic thing and I feel bad for him, he just always seems miserable when they come on. Continuously, he is having doctors appointments, trying to suss out everything between the infection and the headaches.

#dating #tampabay #tampa #stpete #clearwater #hinge #bumble #tinder #relationships

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writeintrees · 4 years

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Carter Part 4 of 4

Summary: This is it, Carter is going to die here. His torturers are relentless and no one is coming for him. At least that is what he thinks until a mysterious stranger busts into the building searching for their sister. Carter is brought to the rebels, who surprise him, keeping him on his toes and helping him to work through a few things. This group is so happy and kind and better than he could ever dream of.

Found family, trans mc, chronic pain mc, trauma, hurt/comfort

Content warnings: opioids, torture (simple physical injury and neglect), blood, low self esteem, negative self talk, history of physical and mental abuse from family and a partner, self harm scars, panic attack, getting triggered, derealization, dissociation

3192 of 15060 words total

part 1, part 2, part 3

It is nerve wracking to be left in the car while negotiations are underway. The building towers black and menacing above him with only the top floor lit. Orange light seeps through the shaded windows but he cannot help but feel dread for what might be going on behind the glass.

He is in the backseat and parked a half block away, so he has good visibility of the entire entrance. He checks the phone in his hand again, left behind by Naji. Just the two texts from Emille, the first saying they had arrived at Mister Kodua’s door and the second that they are starting negotiations and it may take a while. Sent three minutes ago. Fuck.

He runs a hand through his hair and leans with his face against the window. His breath fogs up the glass and he draws a little heart before it disappears.

A black SUV pulls up and at first Carter does not think anything of it. But as he looks around at the surroundings, he notices that the people stationed at the street corners have vanished. One is leaning into a storefront with their phone to their ear. A third person begins to step out of the SUV and Carter’s blood runs cold. He sees platinum blonde box braids and his mind is back in that chair, in pain and waiting for death. His hands fumble with Naji’s phone and it only does a half-ring before going straight to voicemail. “Shit.” He gropes around in the dark of the backseat until he finds the walkie-talkie. “Hello? Hello, Naji, come in.” Panic edges into his voice.

There is a moment of silence before the static turns on and Naji comes through. “What is it Carter?”

“The coalition is here. They’re walking towards the building.”

When the static turns back on, there are various crashes and thumps. Someone is talking but they must be too far from the microphone to come through clearly. The static clicks off. Dread raises the hairs on the back of his neck and his face is hot with panic. Before he can spiral too far into wondering whether he should reach out again or if they should be on radio silence, the static clicks back on. Carter holds his breath. There is another slam before Emille’s voice comes through. “We’re going down the back stairwell. Can you start the car and circle to the back entrance?”

“Yeah. I’ve got you.” He climbs over the center console and turns on the car, too impatient to mind the beeping asking for him to buckle his seatbelt. It has been a few years since he has sat in the driver’s seat so he takes the corner a little too sharply and grits his teeth as he urges his body to stay upright. He pulls up just in time to see Naji limping her way to the curb. Stairs, right.

Emille helps her into the backseat and barely has the passenger door open before yelling to “go go go!”

He accelerates. “Which way?” He asks.

“Left. That should take you to the highway.”

He does that and has the wherewithal to buckle his seatbelt on a straightaway. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest and he wonders whether he should be driving in this condition. He was already iffy when he moved to the state a few years back.

“My goddamn wheelchair.” Naji says through clenched teeth.

“We’ll get it back.” Emille says as if trying to speak it into existence. “At least we got a powerful ally.”

“What the fuck happened back there?” Carter cranes his head, trying to see Naji in the rearview mirror. The car beeps to tell him that he is drifting out of the lines and he snaps back to focusing on the road.

“Take the next exit.” Emille points towards the sign.

They focus on directing him back and before he can get his bearings enough to ask questions, they are pulling up to the building. Carter turns the car off. Emille takes the keys and hops out to start unscrewing the license plate.

“Carter, be a dear and get my spare wheelchair?”

“Sure. It’s in the closet, right?”

“Actually… Just go in the first door to your right. You’ll see it.”

Tasha has come out to give Emille a spare plate. Carter goes in the open front door. He is surprised he has never noticed this room before. The hallway does blur together a bit with all the glass with different patterns over it. There is a fifth office structured much like the others but with simple white foam leaned up against the glass wall. Its door is partially covered by the open front door and he has to maneuver them so he can enter.

It is an absolute mess inside. There is a gurney covered in so many items he doubts it would actually help in an emergency. He finds a simple folded up hospital wheelchair to the side behind some rolled up schematics.

Naji glowers at it as he brings it out. “Damn. I loved that wheelchair.”

“Emille says you can still get it back.” He says as he unfolds the spare. The foot rests click as he lowers them.

“Yeah, well Emille is more hopeful than I dare to be.” She takes one step and collapses into the chair. “And that is more walking than I want to do in the next month.”

He hovers awkwardly, distantly remembering that it is intrusive to touch someone’s mobility aid. “Do you want me to push you?”

She sighs defeatedly. “Yeah. Go ahead.

The car beeps and Carter looks up to see Emille hovering by the door, the keys in their hands. They follow him and Naji in and make a beeline to the living room.

“What happened?” Tasha asks, eyeing Naji’s wheelchair as she angrily puts on the manual brakes.

“The coalition fucking happened.” Emille mutters.

“It was doomed from the start. They knew Mister Kodua would have the vase locked down tight. So they waited for someone to entice it out of hiding.” Naji says.

“Carter gave us an early warning that saved our asses. They had the front and elevator blocked and fucking broke into the penthouse. After trashing half his place, Mister Kodua gave us the vase and an escape in exchange for us giving those bastards hell.”

“You got it?!” Joao asks, so loud that Carter winces.

Emille opens up their satchel and produces a shape wrapped in cut paper to cushion it, something like the rich man’s bubble wrap. They are grinning. “Yup. I’ll go put it in our safe now.”

“I need a break.” Naji announces. “Walking down five flights of stairs was hell.” She rolls towards her room, her elbows bumping the arm rests every once in a while and her cursing under her breath.

“Hey nice going on the early warning man!” Joao rounds the couch and raises his hand to give Carter a high five.

He stiffens and his arms immediately go up to protect his head. His breaths come short and shallow as his brain shuts down against the pain. He barely registers how raising his arms tugs at stitches and causes his injured muscles to scream. A hand touches his shoulder and he flinches with a gasp. He claps one hand over his mouth.

“Hey. Hey it’s okay, you’re safe.” Emille’s voice cuts through the haze. He dares to slowly open his eyes to find Emille to his side, giving him a small smile. “Good. See? You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you.”

His chest is still rising and falling like that of a rabbit. He nods weakly. Mercifully, no one looks at him strangely when he excuses himself from the dwindling conversation to lie down. He hugs his midsection and stares at the posters on the far wall then closes his eyes against images that rise intrusively in his mind. His fingers run over the scars on his wrist, feeling the ridges there, hearing how his ex yelled at him every time he found a new cut even though he had no trouble marring Carter’s skin himself.

“I’m not there. I’m safe.” He whispers to himself. His past is two states away between his ex and his family. Even with the more recent shit, he will never have to see that torture building again.

If he goes back to his boring job and boring apartment now there is no reason that anyone should hurt him again. He does not know anything, at least way less than everyone here. He can just fade into anonymity without any attachments. That would be fine. He has dealt with it before and can deal with it again.

He looks around the personalized room. The little touches make him smile. It is Emille’s room, he reminds himself. There is no place for him here. He is overstaying his welcome.

There is a knock on the locked door. He startles and tries to not make any noise. His mom would leave him alone if he was quiet.

“Carter?” Emille’s voice comes through the glass.

That voice seems so foreign among all of the bad memories. He realizes with guilt that they are having to knock on their own door. That he has taken over their space. He stands and opens it, forcing himself to open it more than a hair’s breadth, to not block them out of their own room, to not be suspicious.

“Hey.” They say, their voice soft. They are leaning with their shoulder against the doorframe.

“Hi.” He says. He cringes against how lifeless it sounds.

They shift and suddenly Carter imagines it so clearly: someone putting either hand on the doorframe and blocking his exit, forcing the door open before he can lock it, pushing into his space and- and-

His breaths are coming fast again. His eyes dart around mostly unseeing but wary of movement into his space.

“Shit. Shit shit hey Carter. Do you want me to go get Joao?” He shakes his head so emphatically it makes him dizzy. He grasps the door jam tightly. “I can leave you but I don’t want to leave you alone like this. How about Tasha?” Their knees are bent like they are not sure whether or not they should sit on the ground. A few strands have fallen out of their messy bun to lay over their sweater. They look soft and warm and safe.

He shakes his head again. “Can- can I hug you?”

“Yeah of course, why- oof.”

He surges forward and wraps his arms around them. The fuzzy material of their sweater twines between his fingers and helps to ground him. Their arms come up hesitantly and shift away from the bandages until they find a relatively un-injured path over which to wrap. They straighten up and shift to tilt their cheek against the top of his head. He lets out a shaky breath and burrows more tightly into their chest, welcoming the throb of his ribs beneath all this comfort.

They stay like that while the hallway seems to settle in around them. As if the building was partially transparent before, a ghost of its true self because reality had detached from him. His breathing slows and his arm muscles begin to ache from the exertion of holding the position. He slowly releases their sweater and pulls away. They match his movements. Once they are far enough away to see each other’s faces, Carter cannot help the happiness from shining through his bashful expression. They look calmer too, although that is not hard to do with having to deal with someone having a panic attack. Oh shit he had a panic attack in front of them.

“I’m sorry.” He says automatically.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

His brows furrow but he does not dare risk an argument while so on edge. He does not think he could deal with any conflict without slipping back into a panic attack. There is so much to apologize for, he does not even know where to start. About not being able to deal with normal things, about them having to see him that way and having to calm him down, about taking their room, about latching onto them at the coalition building and being a burden on all of them ever since. He is crumpling underneath the weight of it all and surprised that they have not gotten rid of him yet.

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

Everyone is scrambling to find their connections and make sure none of this is traceable. There is a buyer in France who helped to fund them in the past. They are reasonably certain she is secure. They work overtime to shorten the turnaround period as much as possible. The less time they have the vase, the less time it gives the coalition to find them. The local coalition buyer is getting impatient, or so sources say, and by the time the vase is out of the country he will likely have black listed the coalition from his payrolls.

Mister Kodua comes in handy again. He sends one of his men to rendezvous with a list of international collectors he trusts. They bring Naji’s wheelchair back too. Carter is pretty sure she is more happy about that than about the buyers.

Which leads him to this: sitting in the passenger seat of that same red SUV, radio turned low and Emille tapping their fingers along. It feels wrong to be leaving them but he has to remind himself that this is not his fight. They never even invited him to their home, they just felt obligated to break him out and he far overstayed his welcome.

Emille is now bobbing their head to the music. He smiles to himself. He cannot believe he was intimidated by them at the start. Granted, his first introduction to them was while severely injured and they were black-clad, holding a gun, and on a mission to save their sister.

He is wearing one of Joao’s shirts and a pair of Emille’s pants and the same beat-up sneakers he had on through the whole torture thing. He cannot wait until he can toss these in some dumpster somewhere. Maybe set it on fire. Whatever removes them from existence.

“Here?”

His head jolts up to find the same drab apartment building he has lived in for the past two years. Much better than where he lived when he first came to the city though. “Yeah.”

The car turns off and Emille steps out with him. It is awkward but he tries to be flattered that they are making sure he gets back safe. He catches the door before it locks behind one of his neighbors. They go up one flight of stairs and halfway down the hall before Carter realizes he does not have his keys. His pockets had been emptied by the time he had come to.

It is not an issue though because the door swings open. Unlocked.

“This-” Their voice shakes and they take a steadying breath. “This is where you live?”

He looks around at the room with its peeling wallpaper. Only a sliver of natural light comes in from between the apartment buildings, crammed together for maximum occupancy. The room is baren and dull -- and room describes this place better than apartment with only a hip height wall separating the sleeping space from the kitchen. There is little distinguishing it from when he first moved in except for his pain supplies littered about. There is a mattress on the floor and some dirty dishes that are smelling especially rank now. His phone is on the bed, staring at him. When was the last time he missed using those apps?

He swallows weakly. With a slap in the face Carter realizes that there is nothing tethering him to this place. “Yeah. I guess it is.” He turns awkwardly toward Emille, wishing he felt embarrassed when he met their mixed expression. Instead he just feels tired like none of it even matters anymore. Once they walk out that door he will get back to his days that slide into one another with the only excitement coming from books. “Thanks for bringing me back. You didn’t have to.” He smiles weakly and tries to end this interaction. There is a sick feeling in the back of his skull and he cannot wait for that door to close behind them so he can just sink to the floor and cry. The room around him does not feel real and he fucking hates it. Nothing is right.

“Will some family be over later to take care of you?” He shakes his head. “Friends?” He stares blankly into the floor. “You don’t have anybody?”

“I’m fine. My ribs are barely bugging me anymore so I should be able to start work again tomorrow.” He laughs bitterly. “Assuming they didn’t fire me for leaving out of the blue. Shit they probably did. God I need a new job.” He runs his hand through his hair and tries not to wince when the skin over his abdomen pulls a little too tight.

Emille is studying him carefully. He tries to put up a show of lowering his hand and leaning against the wall casually. They look slowly around the apartment again, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“It’s okay, you have no obligation to stay any longer. You guys have done so much for me already. There’s no way for me to repay you but maybe if you need a favor some time? I don’t know-”

“Come back with us.”

“What?”

“That’s how you can repay us. Move in and keep working with us. We can clean out the extra bedroom for you. Just- don’t stay here all alone.”

“Why would you want me?”

Emille rolls their eyes and pulls out their hand, counting out on their fingers. “You’re the only one who knows how to talk to Tash about that shit you went through. You might still have helpful info on the people in that facility. You’re a damn fine cook. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. Besides, I need some more cushion from all the cis people. They’re fucking smothering me in that place.” They say these things with a tone as if they are jabbing at Carter but he feels himself getting flustered by all the compliments. “And believe it or not we actually like you. Even Naji’s grown fond of you.”

He smiles, big and genuine. His chest is so full and he cannot believe this is real life. He does not quite believe them, not yet, but he is starting to think he is not quite as unloveable as he believes.

“So you coming? Not gonna wait all day you know.”

He locates a duffel and fills it with clothes and other items. Fuck this place. He leaves the mess and does not contact his boss or the building manager. For all they know he just up and disappeared.

This is going to be so much better.

#writeblr #writing #oc #original story #milo's stories #hurt/comfort #chronic pain #fibromyalgia #fibro #pain

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scullyy · 5 years

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Rocky Roads Aren’t So Sweet

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 1480

Summary: Clementine tries to teach her eager boyfriend how to drive, but the roads aren't all they're cracked up to be.

A/N: A big thank you to @savage-scraps once again for the idea. Thank you for being patient whilst I was writing this. I hope you enjoy.

Also, cue protective boyfriend Louis

"Just because there are no speed limits doesn't mean you can drive like a maniac." Clementine held onto the sides of her seat tightly, the power of the seatbelt was futile against the equally mad power of the man behind the wheel. He was a free man, with no laws to bind him the road belonged to him and him alone.

"Gotta go fast Clem," Louis still slowly pressed his foot onto the break, giving into her panicked request. "This is fun, don't know why I never tried it before." The car cut through the gentle army of rain that fell down from the fluffy clouds ahead, it could have been peaceful if Louis didn't feel the need to shout "Skkkrrrttttt!" at every sharp turn.

"Well you never had a car before, we got lucky with this one," When Aasim had returned from his supply run going on about how he had found a minivan it seemed too good to be true. Ruby even took his temperature to make sure he was lucid. "So be careful."

Louis took another hard right, throwing Clementine around like a thin rag. "I solemnly swear." The looming trees whizzed past them, blurring together like a painting. Rich green leaves melted into the grey sky. Clementine noticed how the cold air brushed over her skin, she felt it again that previous night as a thunderstorm ravaged the school.

"Okay you'll wanna switch gears now," She pointed to the gear shift separating them, clapping gently when Louis successfully switched into the next gear. "See? It's not that hard." A small part of her missed driving, the way the wind would flow through her hair was the closest feeling to freedom in this world. But when you only have one foot left, navigating three pedals isn't easy.

Louis revelled in pride at having impressed Clementine. "I don't see why I have to learn manual when there must be perfectly fine automatics out there."

"Not every car you find will be automatic, you need to be prepared," She recounted those wise words once taught to her, it felt like a lifetime ago she heard that. Kenny's ghost always felt close to her when she looked at AJ, him and Lee would both be proud of the young boy. "Promise me you'll always wear your seatbelt."

Louis crossed his heart. "I promise."

Water splashed along the side of the car as he zoomed through another puddle. In another life, he'd be driving to the movies or maybe even the beach. Marlon would have called dibs on the front seat, using the dashboard as a footrest. Violet would have had the honour of sitting in the middle since she was the smallest and Aasim would be making comments on how reckless of a driver Louis was. The cramped car would be filled with laughter and obscene music, just a group of kids enjoying their days. But life isn't kind like that.

Louis was brought back into his disheartening reality when he skidded through a deep puddle, losing control of the wheels in the process. The car spun around in crazed circles, there was no sense of direction anymore. Their world was no longer a collected painting, rather morphing into a wretched mess.

"Louis-" Clementine cried out as her hands reached out for the wheel, at the rate they were going they were destined to soon collide with a tree. As her fingers brushed against the leather her body was thrown forward, her head slammed against the dashboard in an instant before sinking into an all too familiar darkness.

The world around her was nothing but fuzzy, the furniture was distorted and all the voices were fading in and out of each other. Their words were morphing into new words and different topics before Clementine had a chance to catch up. She slowly raised a heavy hand to her head and felt a thick gauze in place of her hat.

"Shit, not again." She groaned. Her throat felt unbelievably dry, a harsh cough rose up and caused a severe ache in her chest that rippled into her brain.

"You're awake!"

Clementine tried to place the voice, it was echoing all around her. As she leaned onto her elbows a warm body suddenly leapt onto her, crushing her ribs. The smell of firewood flooded her senses and she felt herself relax on instinct.

"Clem! You're okay!" Louis gripped her jacket tightly, his fingertips squeezing the denim.

She ignored the burning sensation hiding deep within her gut and hugged him back. "I sure am Lou." The room fell together like a puzzle piece, Louis being the clear feature. The deep bruise slyly trying to hide beneath the collar of his shirt didn't fly past her.

As her mouth opened to voice her very real concern, he beat her to the punch. "You sure you're okay?"

Her hand ghosted over the wound hiding away in her hair, flinching when her nails accidentally scratched the gauze. "I think so, I'm alive at least. What happened to you?" Clementine's trembling hands pushed his shirt past the bruise, a tiny gasp was set free when she noticed how far down it travelled his arm.

It was all still slightly fuzzy for Louis, moment by moment faded in and out of his memory. "We skidded through something, rainwater I think, lost control of the car." He could still hear the glass windows shattering beside him like a broken record on repeat.

Clementine wondered about the wreckage left behind, that car was their chance to explore at a larger distance, maybe even meet up with other survivors. "Is the car okay?"

It was a question he was hoping she wouldn't ask. Louis slowly ground his teeth together. "Not really. Your door was jammed shut and all the tires were completely fucked. It might be salvageable, but I don't think anyone here is secretly a mechanic."

Aasim wasn't too thrilled about his findings immediately being destroyed by Louis and his classic careless nature. Louis would certainly be getting an earful later, once his wounds had healed and he could no longer make Aasim feel guilty for reprimanding him.

Clementine let her eyes roll into the back of her head, it was too good to be true. "It's not like we had any access to gas anyhow. We still have the horses at least," She gave all her attention to Louis and the bruise he was clearly trying to avoid. "How are you feeling? You can't hide that injury forever."

He tried to dig away the seeds of guilt by laughing it away, his mom once told him it was the best medicine. "My shoulder does hurt but I think I got off light compared to you," He pointed to the gauze around her hair, reminding him of their first meeting. Were car crashes becoming their thing? "I really suck at driving, don't I?"

"You weren't that bad, hell I only have one leg and you're still better than me." She gestured to her stump hanging off the side of the bed, at least Louis could reach all three pedals.

"How? We've both been in accidents."

"You got into an accident because of the weather, that would happen all the time. I hit a fucking rock." Clementine's disbelief in herself was imminent.

Louis didn't mean to laugh at her plight. Her driving skills had become an easy target for teasing, he knew where to gently poke, not enough to hurt her. Just to get her flustered. "To be fair, you were surrounded by walkers," His daydream appeared before him again; perhaps in his other well-adjusted life, he would have driven Clementine to an over the top restaurant where the food would have ridiculous names. He would drive her home slowly, their bellies warm and their heads full of adventure as the radio let a calming track melt into every corner of the car. They had all the time in the world now, the only perk of the apocalypse. No curfew, no laws to abide by. Their youth was no longer fleeting, no longer something they had to take advantage of. They were simply there, at that moment, together. "You sure you're okay?" He would always be caught asking her that question, and she would always answer with a smile.

"I'm okay Lou. How about next time I teach you how to ride a horse?" Her hand glided over his soft cheek, wiping away the dirt that threatened to hide his freckles.

Louis leaned right into the base of her palm, falling right into her eyes once again. Her hope was hypnotic, contagious and damn near inspiring. "Bring it on Clem. You know I'm always down for a little adventure."

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