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blueprint-han · 4 years ago

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[Image ID: A black picture with the title “HOW TO SUPPORT FANFICTION AUTHORS” written in bold caps lock, colored with a winter forest picture. End ID.]

Well, this post has been made countless times, but I’m making one too because I’ve seen a lot of people say they’re new to tumblr and don’t know the whole “reblogging is better than liking” rule and other stuff. So without any further ado, here are ways YOU can support the fanfiction authors. Now keep in mind this applies to almost every author out there, not just the stayblr fandom, so if you’re a silent reader (or even if you aren’t), I advise you go through this post. Warning, this is a fairly long post going into detail, so yeah. I still expect you, the readers to read this, and if you’re a writer, feel free to lmk if i’ve written smth wrong or if you want me to add something! ^^

In this post I’ll go into thorough analysis of the pros and cons of each of the methods listed here and how YOU as a reader can show the authors whose fics you read more love and motivate them to produce content.

WARNING; LONG POST! GOES INTO A DECENT AMOUNT OF DETAIL. NOT EDITED, EXCUSE ANY TYPOS.

#1 : LIKING !

I think this is basic common knowledge, and a lot of people tend to do this. When you like the post, the author sees it, you see it, and if the author has their liked posts accessible (which majority of the time they don’t), and if someone deliberately goes to check it, then they see it. See why so many authors say just liking does nothing? Only liking says “Hey, I’m gonna tell you your story is not that good by simply liking it and not sharing it with other people. :D”

♯ PROS:

You’re telling the author that you've read their fic, and either you’ve enjoyed it to a certain extent, or you’re just saving it to read for later.

Likes are seen by you, the author and anyone who has access to your likes (which, most people don’t).

♯ CONS:

If you ONLY like, you’re not really helping the author’s work reach a wide audience because this site isn’t Instagram. Reblogging is the only way people can SEE our works. I’ll cover more on that in the next section.

In a nutshell, liking is good! But you should most likely use it in a combination with the other stuff I’ve listed below, because just the like itself doesn’t really do much in giving the author any feedback or interaction on their fics.

To clear shit up; I’m not talking about those people who don’t read the story or appreciate it in the first place. I’m talking about those who appreciate the fic, like it, but don’t leave any sort of feedback to show that.

#2 : REBLOGGING !

This is SO, SO important. I cannot stress on this enough. Let me explain WHY so many writers stress on reblogging content:

Tumblr’s tag system is inherently fucked up, and has grown more so over the year. I’m not kidding, at first, the fic either used to show up in the tags or it didn’t, but now, sometimes your fic can be REMOVED from the tags because of,,, idk tumblr tag shit. Anyways, as you can see, it’s very demotivating for authors at that point, because the major way for people to find their content and expand their blogs has been blocked.

Due to this reason, tumblr authors need to RELY on you, their followers to help spread their works to a wider audience. Now again, before you get me wrong, I’m not saying you ae forced to rb our works regardless of whether you like them or not. BUT, that being said, if you DO infact like the story, there’s no harm in reblogging, right? By doing this you’re indirectly telling the author — “hey! :D I liked your fic! Which is why I am gonna share it to my followers so they can read it too :D” Trust me, you’re doing nothing but helping the people who produce content for you to read. Seems like a worthy cause to hit the reblog button, right? It’s only a one, or maximum two step procedure.

Leave tags in your reblogs! Trust me, as an author myself and as much as I know from all my author friends, we oft check the tags of your reblogs to see if you found any part amazing or even if you have anything to say about the writing we put so much hard work into. Even a key smash or a “This was so [insert adjective] 🥺” is enough to leave a smile on your authors face.

♯ PROS :

You’re !! Sharing !! Your authors !! Works !! This leads to them getting more recognition, so for the content they’re so graciously providing for free, you’re promoting their blog and helping them expand it.

If the tags are being a shit, which majority of the time they are, then you’re literally making an author’s day by reblogging! You’re showing them that you, a follower and appreciator of their works are willingly sharing their content because it deserves to be seen by more people. Again before any dumb people decide to attack me, i am talking about people who like the fic but don't bother reblogging and are silent/ghost readers. I am not forcing anyone to read anybody’s work.

YOU’RE MAKING YOUR AUTHOR SO HAPPY WHAT MORE REASONS COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT !! 🥺

♯ CONS :

Literally none, because as far as I remember no author is against reblogging of their works. It’s quite literally the way this platform functions. Reblogging is IMPORTANT.

#3 : COMMENTING/SENDING FEEDBACK !

This kind of overlaps with the previous section, but THIS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT STEP !! When you leave feedback, you are directly giving the author something so much more valuable to them than high follower/note counts or money. Your feedback is literally our serotonin. I kid you not the number of times I’ve received a positive comment and smiled and it has made my day. There’s a reason youtubers (though not the best example, bear with me here because it was the only one I could think of) ask people to subscribe, like and COMMENT. The subscription is like a follow, the like is ofc like a heart, and the comment is equivalent to an rb with comments in the tags.

You might argue and tell me that a comment is basically like an ask so the reblogging step isn’t necessary, but I’m sure 99% of you use YouTube and you know that more comments leads to people’s videos boosted in the stream/trending charts. This is what reblogging does. Reblogging shares the piece with other people like minded, which leads to a boost in reads. You are literally helping your author grow.

It’s quite literally the same thing as youtubers. Youtubers NEED validation to keep their content creation going, so do writers, so do other ccs on this site. This post is however, focused on WRITERS, so keep that in mind.

♯ PROS :

By doing this, you’re giving author valuable feedback! It’s similar to what you do in rbing with tags. Interactivity with their fics boosts their note counts and helps expand their audience, so srsly, now think of it: your one comment is playing such a massive role to help ccs create more content.

Imagine how much of a difference the note counts will be in when every person who simply likes after reading the fic, reblogs, leaves a comment and sends an ask. the note counts would be high on each and every fic, which is validation in itself, but your comments would inspire the writer so much more! Please, don’t skip the commenting part. Even a simple one like: “this is so cute!” is wonderful.

♯ CONS :

Remember, if you’re gonna give constructive criticism (which I’m sure you all are smart enough to know if different from hate), make sure the author is okay with it. Authors need to be in a specific mindset and must be ready to accept criticism, so if you’re gonna give constructive criticism to them when they’re at a low point, it may demotivate them.

Just commenting, instead of reblogging and commenting in the tags/ reblogging and then leaving an ask in their inbox, while it gives validation in plenty, will not lead to the author’s work being spread. Therefore I suggest either reblogging and commenting in the tags or reblog and then leave an ask, or comment under the fic!

!! reminder; I am not saying that if you don’t rb and just leave feedback, your feedback has no value. We authors truly appreciate every bit of feedback, but this post is aimed to help you learn how to interact with and support authors, and make them feel more motivated, because the current scenario of liking and scrolling is taking a toll on their creative abilities. Take it from a person who’s been writing for a year.

#4 : COMMSIONING VIA THEIR KO-FI/OTHER APPS !

Before any of you attack me, let me tell you that this is not a step that is 100% necessary to do. ONLY donate if you can and if you genuinely want to, and if anyone is forcing you to pay for something against your will, you need to get yourself out of there.

Regardless, if an author has a kofi and you’re able to and you want to donate, you definitely should! It’s also a valid form of support.

#5 : ADDING THEM ON REC LISTS/ RECOMMENDING THEM TO REC BLOGS

This is such an underrated option, to be honest. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen my fic was recommended onto some rec list and it’s made me smile so hard. If you like some fics, create a rec list! They’re oft very popular amongst the fans too. Making rec posts is such a great way to share your favorite stories with others.

Rec blogs! I’ve seen a couple going around, and needless to say they are a great way to get someone else to read your favorite author’s work whilst also giving them your own feedback. These blogs oft accept recs via a form or ask box, and they leave your feedback along with their own, or else they’ll oft tag the author in the feedback post, so look! You’re basically helping your author share their fic to many more people, because you’ve given them feedback and a reblog.

♯ PROS :

Validation! Feedback! Reblogs! More exposure! Helping a blog grow! Spreading love! basically a run down of the stuff I’ve said before!

♯ CONS :

Literally no con of this. Unless, a one in a million case, this author says they don’t like receiving feedback/being tagged, and I’m sure NO person has said this before, at least none that I’ve heard of.

#6 : FINAL COMMENTS; MISC !

When an author points out about how the interactivity is drastically reducing, don’t just give them blind apologies. Yes, you feel sorry for not interacting as much, we understand, but rather show that you’ll become a better content consumer through your actions. We need to see that we’re not just throwing words into a void and that people are actually trying to be better content consumers.

Understand the fact that authors don’t get paid for this, and 99% of the time, these authors don’t take commissions either. They’re giving you novel worthy writings for free. Take Percy Jackson: You think the author would have felt motivated to write the subsequent parts, let alone two whole series based off of it if literally no one showed that they were interested? Rick Riordan has sales, he is being paid, there are millions of people and big agencies who provide him feedback. Now take that huge amount and simmer it down to an audience of maybe 10000 people This is what fanfic authors want. They don’t want your money, nor are they telling you to risk your lives for them. All they want is, a reblog, some tags, some feedback, some INTERACTIVITY. A sign that they aren’t throwing fics into the void and that people actually like them, some motivation to continue. Seems fairly easy to throw an rb with some tags, right?

Don’t bother to tell me that we do this for ourselves and we shouldn’t ask for likes and reblogs and feedback, because 1) you are consuming the content that we “write for ourselves” and 2) writers post their content here for interactivity and feedback. We could just not post and write and save our fics in our dungeon drafts for years. But we choose to post to entertain the readers, the consumers. And we aren’t even asking that much in return.

Don’t give me the whole “I’m scared that authors feel that comments are annoying” excuse either because seriously this has been DEBUNKED SO MANY TIMES. Istg, in the nicest way possible, if you still think writers are annoyed by interaction and feedback, after so many posts, long rants have been posted as to how we’re not, then you must truly be living under a rock. There, I said it. Please stop thinking this way, I’ll say it again, AUTHORS ARE NOT ANNOYED OF FEEDBACK, COMMENTS, TAGS, REBLOGS. WE LOVE IT. Saying this is like saying that the audience in a theatre play shouldn’t clap when the play ends because the actors would find it noisy. 🤡

I’ve seen some people saying they have anxiety issues and such, so pls note that I’m not invalidating your condition. If you’re trying to be more interactive, I really appreciate it! If you can’t, that’s fine too. You’re trying.

But for the people who have no reason other than feeling lazy to rb and comment, your lack of interactiveness is not excused. Please. Tumblr is a reblogging site. If you’re gonna consume content like authors are some sort of machines, I encourage you to go get some more perspective.

This site is not Instagram or the satan bird app. Your likes are appreciated but frankly speaking, they do nothing to the author except tell them “Hey i read ur fic but i'm not gonna support u :D” and honestly, that is detrimental to their creative capabilities and mental health.

DON’T FOLLOW AN ACC JUST TO MINDLESS RB THEIR SIGNAL BOOST POSTS AND THEIR REBLOGS OF GIFS AND NOT INTERACT WITH THEIR WRITING AT ALL ! Trust me, authors prefer a lower amount of interactive followers than a high count that doesn’t even give them any feedback. Again your follows are appreciated, but when you’re following, you know the type of content the author creates, so the author expects that the more followers, the more interactivity. These days, this is just becoming the opposite. So don’t do it! If you’re gonna follow to read, interact with their works. I promise, this will make both you and the author happy. A win-win situation.

In conclusion: SUPPORT YOUR FUCKING AUTHORS! THEY ARE NOT MACHINES THAT HAVE NO FEELINGS TO PRODUCE CONTENT FOR YOU! FICS TAKE DAYS AND DAYS OF PLANNING, PLOTTING, OUTLINING, WRITING, EDITING, MAKING TEASERS. SO JUST SHOW THEM YOU APPRECIATE THEM WITH AN RB. IT’S THE L E A S T YOU CAN DO.

I will be liking this post here written by the lovely @chaninfused and @scriptura-delirus . Please take time to read it because if you weren’t convinced by my arguments, you will see how much frustration we as writers face on a daily basis. Please, just show support. Here is the post by @stayndays about how to get more people to read your work, because it also has a note on reblogging. Please educate yourself, and put an end to this mindless consuming culutre and bring up some interactivity.

If you’ve read this far, I want you to go to two of your favorite authors and leave some feedback in their inbox, and tag me in it (either tag me yourself or ask the author to do so, they won’t mind). Show your writers that our words are taking effect and you are becoming better consumers. I mean it. I’m serious. I want every single one who reads this post to do this. besides valid reasons, if you’re lazy to do this, you’re a part of the problem. PLEASE get more perspective.

Also, feel free to add to this post! I’d love to read your thoughts too, remember to be kind though. And, if I think your rb is somehow contradicting my points and is bringing down the reason I made this post, I will politely ask you to delete your comment, because this post is about being truthful about the harsh reality of tumblr consumers and how we can change it. I’m sure none of you will let it get to that point, though. <3 love you guys. 💓

And, just a reminder, don’t just blindly like this too. Do what I said before, and while I am not forcing you, I’d appreciate your reblog, because seriously, it took me 3 whole days to write this, plus, I’m sure this will help more of your followers understand the fault in consumer culture. haha, that’s it! This post was way too long uff.

also, this is ur cue to not be stupid in my inbox. You have something to say? Think I worded smth wrongly? I’m sure it wasn’t my intention to do so, point it out with manners.

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lifeofroos · 3 years ago

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A/N: Thematically appropriate, since I am still ill, I guess? This is a very old idea. Greek mythology again, for a change. @godsofhumanity

AO3 - KoFi

What goes around, comes around

Hephaestus held his hand above his eyes to block out the sun, which stood high in the sky for the late summer. Mount Olympus seemed terrifyingly close. ‘We’re really almost there, right?’ He asked Dionysus, who had stopped a few meters ahead.

The young god nodded. ‘Just… a few more days.’

Hephaestus heard the slight pause between the ‘just’ and ‘a.’ It made him feel anxious. Less so then it would have at the beginning of the journey, but still anxious. ‘Is everything alright? Does it bother you that I keep asking if we’re almost there?’

Dionysus shook his head with a weak smile. He leaned against a nearby tree. ‘Not at all.’

Hephaestus felt the anxiety rise. It bound together in his throat, and he swallowed. ‘But something’s wrong.’

Dionysus’ smile vanished. ‘Yes, something’s wrong,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been feeling sick.’ Hephaestus caught up with his friend and pulled him close. Dionysus coughed twice.

‘And I didn’t see it.’ Hephaestus felt his heart thumping in his chest. ‘Oh, darling, come…’ His friend felt hot to the touch. When he looked at him, his eyes were watery.

‘It’s alright. I didn’t say anything. You can’t read people’s minds, we talked about that.’

Hephaestus shushed him. When he took his friend into his arms, he seemed even lighter than usual. ‘You need rest. You need proper food. We need to set up camp for a few days.’

‘I might make you sick.’

‘I am a god.’ Hephaestus walked down the path by the riverbank, looking for a proper spot to set up camp. They would need a safe place, with sources of food and water nearby. ‘You are too, but not wholly so. I felt it the moment you came into my workshop on Lemnos.’ He felt tears welling up in his eyes. ‘I am so, so sorry. I should have paid you more attention, you have been taking care of me and you are so young…’

‘I am old in human years,’ Dionysus croaked before coughing again.

‘Does me carrying you hurt?’

‘No.’

‘I guess even if it did, I’d have no choice. I need to bring you somewhere safe.’ Dionysus nodded. Hephaestus walked, whispering calming words, until he found a proper spot. Dionysus stood while he unwrapped a sleeping mat. ‘Lay down. I’ll put up a tent.’

‘I…’

‘Come on.’

Dionysus obliged, sitting down on the sleeping mat. When even sitting became too much, he laid down.

When Hephaestus was done, he opened his pack. ‘You need to eat. We’ve got reserves for a couple of days, and some ambrosia, nectar. You’ll need a mix of both.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Hephaestus took a piece of dried fruit out of his pack. ‘Try eating a bit.’ He got the waterskin from the pack. ‘Water might become an issue. We don’t have a well nearby.’

‘How do you know how to take care of the sick?’

The young god couldn’t really say what was going on behind Hephaestus’ eyes when he spoke: ‘On Lemnos, sometimes, a customer, or a wife or a child of a customer, would get sick. Raising temperatures. Sore throats. They were thirsty a lot.’ He sighed. ‘They talked to me about what they did sometimes. That’s how I learned.’ He swallowed. ‘That’s also when I learned how fragile humans can be. Some of them died, even if they only had a common illness.’ Hephaestus felt the tears pressing against his eyes. ‘I don’t want you to die,’ he whispered. ‘Please, please don’t die. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Don’t tell me I would be alright.’ Dionysus looked up at him with watery eyes. ‘I wouldn’t be.’

Dionysus didn’t say anything. He began on the dried fruits Hephaestus had offered him.

Dionysus slept badly, lying awake for multiple hours, finally falling into restless sleep only to wake up screaming and covered in sweat. Hephaestus held watch beside him, refusing to sleep at all. Whenever his friend woke up, he held him until it was better. ‘It’s alright, it’s alright,’ he whispered, even if he knew it wasn’t alright.

By morning, the illness had developed into a throat ache that made it difficult to talk, a running nose and a burning fever.

‘I’ll try to get some fish from the stream,’ Hephaestus whispered.

Dionysus tried to speak, but could only whisper: ‘Not hungry.’ He coughed, which hurt the very depth of his throat.

‘Just a little bit,’ Hephaestus whispered. ‘With some nectar. You need both, but I’ll only make you eat a little bit of both.’ As long as he ate at all.

Dionysus didn’t complain. When Hephaestus picked him up, blanket and all, he shuddered. ‘Fates…’

‘You’re burning,’ Hephaestus whispered. No time to think about it. ‘Sorry, I want to keep an eye on you.’ With his friend in his arms, he walked the little while to the riverbank.

Hephaestus managed to catch a fish quite quickly. Dionysus held up his hand when he offered to pick him up again.

With a pounding headache, Dionysus got up from the sandy patch. ‘I’ll walk. It’s only a few minutes.’

The few minutes became about ten minutes. When they arrived back at the camp, it took thirty minutes for Dionysus to attempt eating.

‘It’s alright,’ he whispered, and shivered. ‘Don’t you… need… sleep?’

Hephaestus held on to him through the next coughing fit. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘I’m a god. I need less sleep than you. You need someone to watch over you.’ He swallowed. ‘The way you’ve been watching over me the past months. You think I never noticed you, at two a.m., standing guard and worrying? Or Fates, every single day when I asked some stupid anxious question and you answered it for me? Perhaps it’s my turn to stand guard and worry over you. Perhaps it’s my turn to quench your anxiety.’ He felt the tears prickling behind his eyes. ‘You’ve done so much for me. I can never hope to pay you back. Please, let me do the very least, now that you so clearly need it.’

Dionysus didn’t reply. He looked like he would cry as well.

Hephaestus pulled the blanket straight. ‘Now get rest.’

Dionysus obliged.

A/N: Sooo I used to think about the hike from Lemnos to Olympus a lot. I wrote a bit about it already, yet I always had the headcanon that Dionysus would get sick at the very end, causing Hephaestus to take care of him and really show how much he got to appreciating his friend. Also, I am aware that the journey is supposed to be like… a single hangover long. Still I enjoy it being stretched into months. Makes for bonding and drama.

#dionysus #greek mythology #greek gods #hephaestus #writing #writer #write #fic #fiction #retelling #greek mythology retelling #greek mytho retelling #greek myth retelling #greek mythos

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silverynight · 4 years ago

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Heart's song

Part I

"You remember him, don't you?" Theseus asks, as they both jump out of the Uber.

Newt looks around, fascinated; New York City looks like a place full of life; there's people everywhere and they all look like they don't have time to waste.

"I'm sorry," the zoologist mumbles; it's been a while since he met Theseus's friend. He was just a kid when he used to pay a visit to his brother.

Theseus chuckles, amused; it's like he has a secret he can't wait to tell him.

"Not even his name?" When Newt shakes his head, his brother sighs, but keeps grinning, it's almost like he wanted to get that response. "He's Percival Graves! I know you probably don't believe me but–"

"Why wouldn't I believe you?" Newt asks, trying to keep up with Theseus's pace while he looks around. Then, he feels worried about Daisy; they shouldn't have left her in the flat they're renting. "Are you sure–"

Theseus stops right in front of a beautiful building, chuckles and takes out his phone to show something to Newt.

The zoologist looks down and sees a man (an attractive man) singing in front of a huge crowd. He likes the song.

"Is that your friend?"

"Yes."

"So he's kind of famous..."

"Kind of?" Theseus rolls his eyes, but looks at Newt with a fond expression. "Of course you hadn't heard about him until now."

"I'm afraid not," he mumbles and then adds: "About Daisy..."

"She'll be fine, little one. She's a good dog, besides, it won't take that long. I'm sure Percival is probably busy."

That's exactly what the person at the front desk tells them; it seems a really expensive building to live in, perhaps that's why she doesn't believe any of them (or at least Newt because his brother looks good in that suit of his) when Theseus says they are Graves's friends.

Well... Newt is not his friend.

"Just call him, please. Tell him Theseus Scamander is here."

At least she does, after frowning at both of them and when he answers there's clear shock written all over her face when Graves tells her to let them both in.

Percival opens the door himself; he greets Theseus as he and his brother walk inside and Newt is a little bit distracted by how big and fancy the flat looks when he hears someone gasp.

Newt remembers he has to be polite so he turns around and offers his hand to Percival, he also makes an effort to look at the singer in the eyes and realizes that the man is even more handsome up close.

"I'm Newt," he mumbles, blushing after a couple of seconds because Graves just blinks in his direction.

For a moment, Newt worries that the man doesn't like him.

"Percival... You can call me Percy if you want," the man says, looking a little bit flustered. He grins from ear to ear and shakes Newt's hand longer than necessary. "So, you're..."

"Theseus's brother," Newt says, smiling shyly at him.

Graves looks from Theseus (who for some reason is frowning suspiciously at his friend now) and then at Newt with a relieved expression on his face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Newt."

Percival doesn't listen too much to what Theseus has to say about their old times together, instead he is constantly trying to get Newt to talk about himself.

"I'm a zoologist," he finally says, looking at his brother with a confused expression on his face. People are usually more interested in Theseus.

Somehow, the singer manages to sit right next to him and lean closer while Newt explains he's constantly traveling all around the world with Daisy because of his job.

"Daisy?" There's something in the way Percival says it, like he's tasting something bitter. For a moment, Newt considers that maybe he doesn't like animals so much.

Theseus has begun to look amused for some reason.

"Yes," Newt turns his head down to glance at his phone. "Actually, I have to go... I don't want to leave her alone in the flat..."

"No, don't go," Graves blushes as he blurts the words out, it's almost like he didn't want to say it out loud. "I mean... She can come here. I'm sure she's... lovely."

"Really? Are you sure you don't mind to have a dog here?" Newt asks, a little bit concerned; everything inside the flat looks expensive and very fragile.

"A dog?" For some reason Graves seems relieved again. "I love dogs! So Daisy... Yes, I love her already."

Theseus rolls his eyes behind his friend before Newt goes for the dog.

***

They spend the day in Percival's flat; turns out Daisy really likes him and he's really good with dogs.

"Would you like to go to Central Park, Newt? With Daisy of course," Graves asks, staring at the zoologist with a hopeful smile on his face.

"I'd love to!"

After grumbling something about everyone forgetting about him, Theseus decides to go with them.

It's a little bit difficult at first, because they get surrounded by a few people every now and then; they seem really interested in getting a picture with Percival.

However, once they get to Central Park, they have a great time.

Theseus is a little bit grumpy and gets even closer to Newt than usual, but he relaxes eventually.

"I think it's time to go back to our flat, little one..."

"You could stay with me," Percival offers, looking directly at Newt. "So you won't have to keep paying rent."

"But Daisy–"

"I'll love for her to stay too," Graves insists, taking Newt's hand in his.

"Alright..." He finally agrees, glancing quickly at Theseus, who still seems to be half irritated, half amused by the situation.

They stay in New York for a week; Percival takes them to different places and sings a few songs for them; Newt has never heard a voice so captivating before.

He usually takes his guitar out and sits in front of Newt while he's singing staring into the redhead's eyes like they're the most interesting thing in the room, Theseus pinches the bridge of his nose every single time this happens and Newt is still not sure why he does that.

Daisy just sits at Newt's feet and wags her tail every time Percival pets her while the zoologist finds himself feeling relief after realizing she hasn't actually broken anything of value yet.

When it's time to go, Percival takes a deep breath and rubs the back of his neck before asking for Newt's phone number. Theseus chokes on his coffee behind them.

"So we... So I can talk to you... Or maybe text you if you want–"

"Sure!" Newt says, smiling gently before adding. "I'm glad you consider me your friend too."

There's something in Percival's expression; it's like he's experiencing a little bit of pain at the moment. Something is bothering him.

"Yeah... friends, sure. Of course, that's what I meant!" He says, but doesn't sound like he's very enthusiastic about the idea.

Perhaps Newt read the situation wrong; of course a famous and successful man like Graves wouldn't want to be friends with some unknown zoologist.

Newt waves a goodbye as he's pulled outside by Daisy and even though he's a little bit focused on the dog, he still hears a few of his brother's words to Percival.

"I still don't know if I'm mad at you or if I just feel sorry for you," Theseus says. "Not sure if I approve of this."

Newt has no idea what he's talking about, but decides not to ask. He still feels a little sad because Percival's reaction to being Newt's friend.

He thought the singer liked him.

It seems he was completely wrong.

***

You can read Part II right now on my Patreon.

Kofi / Patreon

#gramander #percival graves #newt scamander #fantastic beasts #fbtcog #fbawtft

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

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In A Storm

Bree gets stranded in a storm and just needs to find someone to give her a helping hand.

Calum x Black!OC, Bree. Idk what happened. This post doesn’t actually exist.

CW: 18+ Content (Briefest mentions of sex. It’s an almost fade to black moment, but there’s a tiny teeny amount of details.)

Enjoy my masterlist

You can support me on kofi.

________________________________________

Bree wants to laugh. The light on her car came on twenty minutes ago. She thought then, maybe she should pull over, call her dad and see what she should do. She was so close to her friend, Drew’s house. And maybe it was stupid to negioate with herself that if it went out in another ten minutes she’d continue on and worry about it in the morning. Her lower back and ass was starting to hurt from the long drive though and if Bree was to stop she only wanted it to be at her final destination so she could stretch out and sleep.

Though in Bree’s defense, the light shouldn’t have gone out. If something was really wrong, then it would’ve stayed on. But it went out after a couple minutes. She was nearing her exit when it came back on. It was only another ten minutes according to the GPS. Just another ten minutes and then in the morning, she could get someone to look at the car. Now, not even two minutes from the new house, a whopping three blocks away, her car was slowly puttering to its end.

And breaking down two minutes from her new place wouldn’t be that bad. Things happened. But it was of course during her big move from her parents' place and in with Drew up in the Hills. This move is only temporary. She had a job starting in a week and after stacking up a few checks, Bree was going to put in an application to an apartment complex not too far from her job. But, of course, her car would break down in the middle of a downpour.

The rain was nice at first. Made her feel like she was in her own bubble down the winding roads of the highway. Though she was getting into heavier traffic closer to the city and folks were becoming a bit more impatient in their driving, the rain provided her a little bit of solace. It felt a renewal. Bree was flying the coupe and it felt right that even though it was exciting it was also a little sad. It felt right to have the rain hitting the roof of her car. It made her feel like she was shedding something--though she wasn’t sure what it was just yet.

But she did not need the rain and her car breaking down. Bree flicks on her emergency lights. Fat would have this for her. Fate would have this stored away just for her, at just the most inopportune time. Pulling the car off to the side of the road, Bree listens to the rain falling around her. She exhales, thinking what her next step should be. She’d have to call for a tow. And she’d have to let Drew know that she’d be delayed getting in and she should probably call her dad just to make sure she was handling the situation right.

Reaching for her phone, she taps to end the GPS’s route. She wouldn’t be needing that for a while. Her nails click over the glass screen and just as her fingers hover over her dad’s contact the screen goes back. Her phone started dying just as she got into the neighborhood and now without the car battery on, she was left with no charge. “Let this be a fucking lesson to charge your phone the night before your drive,” Bree tells herself.

Her portable charger box was somewhere in the mass of bags and boxes in her car. She told herself she’d put in her purse before leaving but due to late night last minute packing, Bree’s sure she dumped it somewhere into the depths of those boxes and there was no way she’d be able to unearth it now.

“At least you’re in a neighborhood,” she tells herself, looking for any signs of life behind curtains. “A light, a child, something,” she mutters, looking through the sheets of rain.

And right at the end of the block, a house down from where her car gave up the ghost, Bree spots two dogs in the windows. One fluffy and the other one with a pretty white coat. Normally, Bree wouldn’t be so inclined to just walk up to any old house. But a house with two dogs made her feel better. It felt like a sign. Throwing her phone into her purse, she took a deep breath.

She had just pressed her hair. And sure really it was not anything more than a blow out and a quick rod set, but still it meant that the second the rain touched her scalp her roots would revert, the curls would take back their natural form. Though, that would just have to be a fight for tomorrow. Right now she can’t be sitting in her broke down car with no phone or way to contact anymore.

“Do or die,” she sighs. Sliding the keys from the ignition, Bree leans into the door. “I just did my hair though. God,” she huffs, opening her door. The rain is cool. It’s almost a relief. The door is wet within seconds. Her jeans are no longer the light faded wash but dark denim blue.

It’s another moment before she fully pushes herself out of the car, locks it and then runs up the driveway, purse clutched tight to her side. The rain’s not a chill to her bones. But it’s like a refreshing sip of water. The jog’s stretched out her lower back a little. Under the refugee of this strangers porch, she shakes a little bit of the water from her hair and raps at the door. “Please don’t be a creep,” Bree whispers, biting the corner of her lip. “Also, not an axe murder. Would not be cool.”

______________________________________

Calum walks past the two dogs perched on his couch to the front door. Calum agreed to dog sit Moose for the day while Michael took South to the vet. The poor guy hadn’t quite been eating like before and Michael, the worrier that he is, decided not to wait to check him out. Crystal had gone out of town and rather than letting Michael have to fret over South and Moose, Calum happily offered to watch Moose while Michael took care of what he needed.

Calum’s not really sure what he expected to find on the other side of the door. It could’ve been anyone really--Michael, a mailperson, possibly a random kid asking if they could get access to his backyard to retrieve a rogue ball. But not someone, completely drenched, nervously running her teeth over her bottom lip. “Sorry to bother you. I just need to use your phone. My car broke down. I’m a genius who doesn’t charge her phone before driving 5 hours across the state.”

Calum looks past her, over her shoulder to see a car--he assumes it’s her--pulled over to the side of the road. He looks back to her. The college sweatshirt hanging heavily from her frame thanks to the pouring rain. Her hair sticks to her face a little. Whatever eye makeup she was wearing has started to run down her cheeks. “C’mon in,” he waves hurriedly for her to enter.

“Thanks,” she smiles, stepping inside but not going past the indoor welcome mat. Her shoes squish as she walks onto the hardwood floor.

“Is your car far?”

“Nah, just like a house down. I saw the dogs in the windows. Seemed like a safe bet.” She holds out a hand to the dog intrigued by her. The pure white pup happily sniffs away at her hand while the smaller husky colored dog watches from afar.

Calum turns any shoes suitable to go out into the rain. “I can help you push it closer to my house, that way none of my neighbors get pissy. That’s if you’re okay with getting wet again?”

The woman laughs. “I think I’m passed getting worried about wet. You’re the one that’s bone dry.”

“Not worried about it really. I’m just sick of my neighbors, at this point.”

“Don’t want the HOA on your ass?” she teases.

“God, not again.” Into some old tattered boots, Calum faces her. “I’m Calum by the way.”

“Bree,” she turns, slipping her purse over her head. “Is it okay if I set this inside? The phone’s dead but I don’t want it getting wet or anything.”

“Yeah sure,” he waves to the coffee table.

Both of them pause on the front porch. Bree’s already wet like she said, but now her hair’s truly fucked. There’s no denying that. “Really, I could foot the heat of your neighbors,” Bree offers, not really wanting to go back into the rain.

Calum chuckles beside her. “Let’s say me and the HOA are on thinner ice than before.”

“Thanks. Even though I’m getting you wet. Just want to say that now before we’re both drowning in this downpour.”

“No problem.”

The second her sopping wet shoes hit the first stair, Bree definitely notes the air is cooler now. And it could be because she was already wet once before. And somehow had managed to adapt in the two minutes she was inside Calum’s place to the warmth. Now in the rain again, the chill is definitely hitting her bones. She runs again to her car. Her keys are clicking between her fingers.

Her grip slips around her keyes and she curses before picking them up. Calum’s already positioned at the trunk, waiting on her. It’s a bit of embarrassment that heats her cheeks, sitting inside her car. She hadn’t meant to make anyone else do so much extra work or have anyone else subject themselves to the rain. With fingers gripping tight to the steering wheel, she leans out of the window just a little to let Calum know she’s ready.

Thankfully, she hadn’t coasted super far out from Calum’s driveway. Bree keeps an eye on the nose of her car. It’s slow of course with only one person behind to push. When they get just pass the mailbox, Bree gives a shout and puts the car into park. She throws her head into the steering wheel, exhaling.

Behind her closed lids, all she seems to see is the cut of Calum’s jaw. Why did he have to be hot? Why wouldn’t he have been just some decent guy with two dogs? But he had to be hot and willingly to subject himself to the rain for her. She still has to call a tow truck and Drew, and her dad. There’s not much time for wallowing in the misery life liked to hand her.

Throwing up her door, she finds Calum right at the driver side passenger door. “I can throw your clothes into the wash while you use my phone. Sound okay?”

The rain is clinging to the lines of his face, washing down his cheek and riding the line of his jaw. Bree tries to focus instead of his eyes. But even the rain there, on his lashes, is so goddamn beautiful. “Thanks again, Calum.”

“Don’t worry.” They walk back up his driveway. Calum lets her go ahead of him to get inside. But he leads her down to the bathroom, where Bree stands, still dripping water onto his floor.

The press that she worked so hard is gone. The roots have coiled around each other. The ends are curling and she knows soon, they’ll follow suit. It’s in the mirror that she sees the mascara’s run down her face. She can’t believe she has to look like this, showing up at a strangers door and that stranger being so attractive too.

“I’m literally a drowned rat,” Bree exhales.

“But a cute drowned rat,” Calum returns. In his hands, he holds a towel, washcloth, and a stack of dry clothes out to her. “Pardon that I lack any kind of underwear other than boxers, but I hope they suffice until your clothes are dry.”

Bree nods, heart thundering in her chest. Did he just call her cute? There’s no way her ears heard that. “Thanks. You’re like totally saving my ass right now. But also, like, I do have some clothes in my car. Just means going back outside.”

“Neither one of us is facing that hell storm again. You’ve braved it twice, Bree. By the way, the hot water’s a little fussy. I got it fixed recently but you still gotta talk sweet to it.”

“Noted, charm the hot water.”

Calum points out where to find other essentials in the bathroom and then backs out of the room with a tiny wave, lips lifting into a tiny smile. It feels nice under the warm run of the shower head. Bree definitely needed a little bit of patience with the hot water but once the temperature evened out it became well worth it. Just her luck to work out like this. But she’s immensely grateful Calum’s so understanding. If not, she’d most likely wind up stranded, or she’d be tied up in someone’s basement.

It’s not a thought Bree likes lingering on. But it’s just a reality for her. She hadn’t necessarily helped herself. When the light first came on, she could’ve found a car shop nearby. She could’ve waited there for a few hours, got it fixed and saved herself this trouble. Bree won’t be making anymore negotiations when it comes to her car anymore. That’s a lesson that really only needs to be learned once and she’s received the message loud and clear.

Outside the shower, she takes in the gray t-shirt with splotches of white on the lower torso and sweatpants offered up to her. It feels all too intimate, to be wearing someone else’s clothes. Bree doesn’t know anything besides his name. And well, he has dogs. And he’s cute. And he has a fucking nice house. Though she hasn’t seen a lot of it, Bree already feels how cozy it is. It’s lived in, with decent space. It’s full. Calum’s house feels full even if it’s just him in the house with two dogs.

Bree likes that feeling, walking into a house and feeling how bright and warm it is. It told her more about Calum, that he had this very embracing and calm energy about it. But that didn’t fully negate the fact that he was a stranger. And she was a stranger to him and she was still standing in a towel. Slipping into the clothes presented, she gathers her clothes into the towel, hopefully to keep from making an even bigger mess of her evening.

Outside the door of the bathroom, Bree’s immediately greeted by one of the dogs. She’d guess they’re a toy poodle, but she can’t tell for certain. “Hi,” Bree coos, bending down to scratch behind one of their ears. “What’s your name?” The pink collar and tag tap just a little in the excited pants. “Oh, you look ear scratches huh, girl?”

“That’s Moose. Old man’s Duke. He’s not a big of people. So I apologize in advance.” Calum’s comes from further in the house. His t-shirt and shorts now changed into sweatpants and a ribbed tank.

“So Moose and Duke, your partners in crimes?”

“Moose isn’t mine, as sad as I am to admit it. She’s a friend and I’m just dog sitting for a little bit. Duke’s my precious old man.”

Bree’s heart shouldn’t clench like it does. Precious old man, why not just stick a knife into her chest. There’s no way to tell how long Calum’s had Duke but it’s abundantly clear that Calum adores Duke. “We can say Moose is your partner in crime too. Even if it’s just for a day.”

Calum chuckles. “Yeah. And as you can see, she’s not afraid to get what she wants.”

Bree nods, turning her attention back to Moose for just a moment and pressing a soft kiss to the top of the dog’s head.

“I can take those, by the way.”

Calum’s hand is outstretched, ready to take the damp clothes from her. Bree shouldn’t be staring at the veins in his hands and forearm. Nor should she be wondering what the back of his knuckles feel like against her cheek. But Bree could absolutely wonder how to prove to Calum’s old man that she was trustworthy--and that is a much safer thought.

Bree hands over the makeshift sack. “Thanks, again.”

It’s a curt nod. The smile seems genuine though. “I’ll get this into the wash.”

Bree stays where she is for the moment, both hands scratching at Moose’s chin.It’s safer to say here. It’s safer to just give into Moose and give her all the affection because if Bree stands, she’s going to do something reckless, like peek through a room or try to find the laundry room just to steal another glance at Calum.

His departure doesn’t last long enough. Calum comes padding back down the hallway, the soft recessed light reflecting off his skin. The hum and rumble of the washer is clear as it echoes throughout the house. “If you’re calling for a tow,” Calum starts, holding out his phone. It’s unlocked and on the keypad. “You’re risking the rain again.”

Bree groans sliding to her butt and resting against the wall. “You’re right. I’m just moving in with a friend for this new job and I didn’t anticipate my car breaking down during my drive.”

Calum leans into the wall opposite from her. “How far away is it?”

“Literally it’s like two blocks from here. A light came on and I didn’t pay attention to it and I’m just a fucking idiot.”

“Hey, no, it’s alright. Shit happens all the time.” Calum sides down the wall, squatting. “You can spend the night here. I know it’s only two blocks, but the weather’s a fucking mess. I can help you move and you can get your car towed to a shop. It all works out.”

Bree wants to tell him to shut the fuck up. She wants him to take back everything he just said. There’s no way she can survive a night in this man’s home. “I don’t want to impose. Maybe the rain will let up.”

Calum shakes his head. “Really, just spend the night. We can transfer whatever you need into my truck in the morning and once the truck gets your car I can take you to your friend’s house.” Calum smiles softly when he spies Moose curling up into Bree’s lap. “Besides, Moose likes you. I think she’d be sad to see you go.”

“But your old man Duke, I might have to put some work in with him.”

“He’s gotten better. Just talk sweet to him.”

Their laughter is soft. Bree rests her head into the wall. She still has his phone and she’s reminded that she ought to call Drew. “You’re right. I don’t want to go back out into that rain.”

He motions with two fingers and Bree hands back the phone. The unlock is quick. “Make your calls. I got tea, coffee. I think there’s hot chocolate if you want that. If you haven’t eaten, we can figure that out too.”

“You do realize that I’m like practically a stranger. I showed up at your door like a fucking drowned rat. You didn’t even tell me my mascara had run.”

He knows all that. Calum doesn’t need to be told that. And sure it probably sounds dumb and definitely a little stupid. But there was something about Bree that makes him worry less. It helps that she hasn’t flipped, hasn’t given out any indication that she knows who he is. And maybe it’s not safe to assume that she doesn’t know. But he has a strong feeling that if she did, they wouldn’t be having such an easy conversation. His gut would tell him if something was suspicious.

“You looked pretty stressed out. I didn’t think you needed to know that your mascara was giving you raccoon eyes.”

With the phone to her ear, Bree glares at Calum. It’s playful and he laughs in returns, before pushing up off the wall. Moose sits with Bree but watches as Calum carries himself into the kitchen. He ought to be ashamed. He ought to feel more guilty at the way he wonders what she looks like beneath his clothes. And it doesn’t help, not at all, that she looks cuter, in his clothes than he ever did.

It’s comforting to know now at least Bree seemed to be less tress. When she first stood in front of him on his porch, her brown eyes were blown, shifting her weight. She looked somewhere between frustrated and almost amused. Like she had expected something like this to happen to her. Though, there was still an air of apprehension and worry.

“I’m safe,” Bree says. Her voice carries throughout the house. “Just some car trouble. I’ll get it seen in the morning. Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

The conversation soon ends but it’s only another minute before her voice picks up again. “Hey, Dad. Yeah, it’s me, Bree. Had to borrow another phone for like two seconds. Anyways, car went flatline on me. But I’m okay and safe for the night. Gonna get it checked out in the morning.”

There’s a pause. Calum pours a glass of water, figuring that’s the safest bet until Bree gets off the phone. “Yeah, Dad. Really I’m safe. In a..hotel...No the car’s not just out on some highway. Just--” Whatever Bree was about to say clearly doesn’t outrank her father’s statement. “I don’t have an estimate yet. Hopefully it’s not too much. I don’t know. I’ll worry about that tomorrow….Thanks. Love you too.”

Bree’s glad the house isn’t a maze. It makes finding Calum a lot easier. But as she settles onto the barstool, sliding his phone back to him, she does wish she had more time to mentally prepare for Calum’s gaze. His eyes are warm, and inviting. That’s not a thing she needs to be worried about right now. Right now, she’s got to worry about her car and moving, and paying to fix her car.

“Have you eaten yet?” Calum turns to the fridge, listing off the options he has, even offers ordering something for her if none of his options sound appealing. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate. Which I’m like ninety percent sure I already offered, sorry.” It’s paired with a soft chuckle.

Bree did eat. She made sure to text her dad when she stopped and when she got back onto the road. But maybe it’s just the adrenaline, the stress of her car, and maybe it’s partially something to do so she doesn’t say something stupid, or completely left field. “Hot chocolate would be nice.”

Just as Calum sets the mug down, a buzzer sounds. Both dogs bark for a moment before quieting down. “I put a blanket in the dryer. Just in case you were cold,” Calum explains. “Did you want it or is that overkill?”

“You--you didn’t have to. But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no, of course.” He knows he’s staring. Her smile is bright and shows off all her teeth too. Like she’s not afraid of anything, or maybe she’s learned to put on a smile even when she’s terrified. His gaze lingers a little too long on her lips. The way she works her teeth over the skin, but they’re still full. Calum wonders if they’re soft too. “So,” he starts, spinning to face his cupboards, “you said you were moving? Just a couple blocks down?”

Bree nods, eyes trailing down his shoulders and back that flex as he grabs onto the blue box. “Yeah-yeah. Got a new job and a friend of mine agreed to let me crash with them until I got an apartment. Wanted to save up some more money before throwing myself into the woes of financially living alone.”

Calum hums, tearing open a packet. “Sounds like we’ll be neighbors. At least for a little bit.” Paws click on the floor. Too light to be Moose and when Calum glances down, he spies Duke lapping at his water bowl in the kitchen.

“I mean, it’s a couple blocks,” Bree insists. If she says that, if she puts more distance between them, she won’t be tempted to drive through his neighborhood and she won’t be tempted to make a joke about staying over more often. She won’t make any moves tonight either.

“Close enough,” Calum says. “A couple blocks, a couple minutes. I’m sure you’ll always remember this street though, after tonight.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Her drink finished, Calum hands over the mug. Their fingers brush, just a split second in time, hardly enough time to really know it’s happening, yet they know anyway. Bree tightens her hold around the warming ceramic. It’s still too hot to really take a drink. But Bree sips from it anyway, after a couple gentle blows onto the dark brown sweet drink. She prays, chants to herself, that she most definitely should not linger too long on the thought or the way her skin felt electric.

“You sure you’re not hungry? I really don’t mind ordering you something.” Calum clears his throat. There aren’t many times Calum’s glad that the bar seat has a counter at waist height, but this time in particular he’s grateful. His spine still tingles just a little.

“I ate already, thanks.”

“Any dessert? I’ve got ice cream and there’s a great place not too far that delivers cookies.”

Dessert. It’s not even the fact that Calum asks. It’s how he asks. His brows shooting up on his face, thumb pointing over his shoulder to his fridge and freezer. It’s the way he bites his own lip, leaning into the counter on his elbows. Bree’s not sure if it’s some secret language, if he’s asking more than just the tub of sugary confection in his freezer.

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Calum nods. “Yeah, okay. No problem. Well, I gotta check on that load of laundry. But feel free to watch TV, snuggle with Moose, see if you can champion Duke’s heart. You’re free to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

It’s a curt nod as Bree works down another sip of her drink before Calum leaves. Once she’s sure he’s gone down back into the depths of his place, she drops her head onto her neck. Fuck me, she mouths. She can text Drew, let them know the true details of what the hell is going on. Though Bree knows the response will be a swift, You better fuck him and I want deeds.

Her phone. It’s still dead. Turning on the stool, she spots her purse still on the coffee table and both dogs curled up on one end of the couch. They watch her with curious eyes as she walks over. Thankfully an outlet is nearby with a phone charger already snug into the outlet. Nothing was plugged into it. She hoped Calum wouldn’t mind for the time being.

Plugging in her phone, Bree settles onto the far end of the couch, letting Duke have his space. But Moose is not shy and walks over, head resting in Bree’s lap. “Help me win over Duke, Moose.”

Moose’s response is turning to her back, gazing expectedly. “Okay, sure, since you’re yanking my leg,” Bree laughs, rubbing her hand over Moose’s belly. Duke still doesn’t seem bothered by her presence. She can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Though she’s inclined to say good. He could be barking, and yet, he’s just watching, assessing Bree.

“I get it,” Bree states to Duke. “You’re thinking, sussing me out. I respect that.” Bree didn’t want to be the type to be nosey but staring at the living room and the house itself. What did Calum do? Drew had a decent break in the producing and DJing world and bought a house up here. Does Calum do something similar? And if so, why wasn’t he more worried about having some stranger in his house?

Bree’s phone buzzes. Text messages from Drew and her dad. Old alerts from various group chats and email alerts that were all muted all she drove. Just as she reaches back for it, a snout presses into her hand. “Moose, you’re literally getting snuggles right now,” Bree laughs.

“Oh, he’s not going to like that.”

Bree looks up to Calum who’s grinning and then down to the snout. She gasps at the sight of Duke resting his head against her hand, his body curled up next to her. “Oh my god, oh my god. Is this real life?” she whispers, looking up to Calum.

“Yeah, this is real life.”

“I would literally die for you and I just met you,” Bree chuckles mostly to herself, gently petting the top of Duke’s head.

Calum tries not to think about how Duke really isn’t all that fond of new people. And for him to curl up next to Bree is an amazing feat. Does Duke sense something Calum can’t? Or maybe they’re both sensing the same thing, that Bree’s striking and funny. And above all, she’s safe. It’s almost like Calum’s known her forever, but maybe Calum just wants to feel that, so it makes everything he’s feeling and on the verge of doing make sense.

“You do realize I literally don’t care if you want to change the channel,” Calum returns, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“This is literally your house! I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

Bree is a puddle of dogs and is sinking into the cushions of his couch. Calum risks a glance from the movie. He thinks it’s one in the Batman franchise but he can’t be sure. The curls have become evident, even though she’s tried to tame them into a high bun. Her cheeks are full, much like his.

“So what brings you into town? I think you mentioned a new job? You don’t have to get too deep into it if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I interned remotely at this magazine for a while. Wrote articles, did some shoots for them. It was mostly music based, looking at underground and indie artists. They had to lay some folks off. But I was already looking to go elsewhere. Got hired and getting paid more so now I’m moving into the city since it’s not a remote position. My friend Drew’s letting crash with her. I got hired like last week so I hardly had any time to find a place or anything.”

“Drew? Like Drew with the dreads who’s literally DJing at almost every club in this fucking state Drew?”

“You know her?” Bree asks.

“Yes! I met her in the studio a couple times. I didn’t even realize she was in the neighborhood.”

“Studio?” Bree figured Calum had to be a creative type and very successful at that. She just hadn’t suspected that thought to be true.

“I dabble,” Calum returns, shrugging his shoulders. Dabble sounds betters, doesn’t put too much pressure or anything.

“Looks like dabbling is working out well for you.”

“So, do you shoot shows for certain bands or just whoever?”

“Just whoever. In some ways I want to be on the cutting edge. A few bands from the old magazine I covered caught a wave. I don’t want to say I’m the reason why, but,” the sentence trails off into a fit of giggles.

“But you’re the reason why,” Calum concludes with a laugh. The two of them talk for hours. Bree telling Calum about the embarrassing trip to the gas station when she realized she had pulled in the wrong way to fill up her tank today and how when she was a kid she’d constantly mix up her left and her right. She still does if she’s honest, so she’s the worst person to ask for direction.

Calum doesn’t share a lot, the occasional story about when he and his friends lived a house together and going a little too hard on the whiskey in coffee and how once he split his pants during a jig. Though mostly Calum just let’s Bree talk. He finds that she can go a mile a minute but she’s good about pulling at certain strings. When she brings up knowing Drew since they were kids, and Calum mentions his friends, she asks about them. Just what it was like growing up with them and what about living with them that he misses.

“Honestly, I’d rather talk to you than be interviewed by any other talk show hot for a decade at least.” Calum states it only after realizing it’s nearing midnight. Michael’s come and gone to pick up Moose. Bree’s hot chocolate has turned cold.

“It’s because I hate interviewing people. I like having conversations,” Bree returns. Duke’s settled between them, facing Calum now but doesn’t shy away when Bree scratches along his back.

“I’m not much of a talker, normally.”

“If that’s your way of saying I’m talking too much, you can just say it. I’m used to it.”

Calum shakes his head. “No, no, not at all. It’s just, you’re easy to talk to, that’s all.” Bree curls up, feet tucked under herself as she faces Calum. HIs t-shirt seems to swallow her up but also she wears it like she owns it, the front tucked into the band of the sweatpants just a little. “Like really easy to talk to,” Calum whispers, trying not to imagine the sight of her beneath him. He hasn’t had something like this--a conversation that could last hours and the ease to almost spill his guts-- in years outside of the guys.

“I know I’ve probably said this like a thousand times, but really thank you. For helping me out. It means a lot.” Bree looks up from her lashes. She knows that look that Calum’s giving her. It’s the eyes from when he questioned dessert. She didn’t want to believe that he was into her, not like that at least.

“You--Really, it’s nothing.”

His gaze hasn’t faltered, as if he’s reading every thought behind her skull. It’s intense and god, it’s not the thing she needs. Keep it together, she reprimands herself. “I’m just, I’m going to dump this.” Bree stands, taking her mug into the kitchen.

“No, no let me,” Calum rushes, pushing to his feet. “You’re the guest.”

Bree wishes Calum had stayed on the couch. She needed to get away, just to breath and think clearly for two seconds. But Calum’s right behind her and his hand reaches out behind her to take the mug. At the sink, they face each other. Close enough that she can feel just how warm he is, smell the Old Spice body wash she saw under the sink on his skin.

“Really, I don’t mind. You’re already doing a lot today.”

Calum didn’t realize just how tall Bree was until now. She stands just about eye to eye with him, only off by a few inches. Four or five, if Calum had to venture a guess. And it would be so easy to kiss her. Just drop his chin a hair and capture her full pouty lips. “Helping someone in need isn’t a lot.”

Bree exhales her laughter. “It’s not a lot when you’re a good person, that’s for sure.” She tugs at the mug just a little, pulling into her body just a hair. There’s not much space between them at it stands. “Please,” she whispers. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying please for. Is it please let me wash the damn mug and walk away? Or is please just kiss me already so there’s no more dancing around this tension?

Calum moves the mug, both of them moving along with his instrumentation. The mug settles into the basin of the sink with a soft thud, the spoon clicking against the sides. “Please what?”

And the words are falling from her lips before she can stop herself. “Kiss me.”

Calum exhales just a hair and cups her jaw into his palm. Bree meets him though, closes the already centimeters between them. Their lips touch for a brief moment. It feels like the first sip of ice cold water on a hot water. It’s satisfying, makes you exhale in relief and it’s only in that moment as the first slides down your throat that you realize how thirsty you’ve been. Calum secures a hold to her waist, pushing her into the counter. Their lips meet again, and again, slightly harsh exhales as hands pull at t-shirts and tanks.

Calum trails a hand under the hem of the t-shirt, running his palm over her stomach and side. Bree shudders at the touch, head falling back on her neck. Calum seizes the opportunity to lay a trail of kisses across her throat. Her sighs are like literal music to his ears. He sucks at the skin to hear it again. And he’s greeted with something much better. Bree moans, arms locking around his neck. Her fingers dance along his shoulder and back and when her head finally reconnects, she reconnects her mouth to Calum’s.

The kitchen turns into a bedroom. All Bree focuses on is the feel of Calum against her, as shirts are shed and pants too. Calum swallows down every sound she gives him. He drinks in the sight of her, head thrown back into his pillows, and legs wrapped around his waist. Bree kisses along his biceps, teeth grazing over the tattoos on his skin. Their senses fill with each other, the sighs, the moans, the pleas, the encouragement and even the awkward shuffle and giggles. Calum never wants to hear his name for another set of lips ever. Not with the way it falls so easily from Bree’s mouth. Bree hums when she hears the grunted curses Calum exhales as his hips rock into hers.

With Calum’s arm draped over her naked waist, he presses a kiss to her cheek. Bree turns to face him, a grin at her lips. “I’m washing that damn mug. Just so you know.”

Calum laughs, shoulders shaking and he squeezes at her waist. “Why am I not surprised at that fact?”

“I don’t care if I have to sneak out of the bed at 5 in the morning. I’ll do it.”

And true to her word, Bree does wash the morning. It’s helped of course when Calum’s alarm goes off and in the shuffle of him rousing awake and trying to turn if off, Bree slips out from the sheets. She throws on his t-shirt again and bolts to the kitchen. The morning is nice though, though she has to steal clothes from the trunk of her car before they can transfer all the boxes into Calum’s SUV.

Calum closes the trunk down, wearing the t-shirt she borrowed and in jeans. Sunglasses cover his face while a trucker hat hides away the curls. “Tow truck said what time again?”

“10 am. So another,” Bree checks her phone, “10 minutes, hopefully. Thanks, again.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. And you can stop saying thanking me. I know it’s a thing you’re probably going to do like a thousand more times.”

Bree swats at his arm. “Look here, I’m trying to be polite. You can be a sour puss elsewhere.”

Calum cackles. “Sour puss? That’s a new one. Also, you sure you don’t want any breakfast? I know a place nearby. Great pancakes.”

“Not much of a breakfast person.”

He nods. “Noted. What about lunch?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely a lunch person.”

“Good, because they have good sandwiches and fries too.”

“Was-Did you just ask me on a lunch date?”

The rumble of a truck cuts through the open air. Both of them turn to see the tow truck coming down the block. Once Bree gets the finalized details about which car shop they’re taking her car and giving said car shop the okay to call her once it’s ready, Bree turns to Calum. “You never answered my question and if it is a date, I’m paying.” Calum insisted on helping her out by paying for the tow.

Calum’s smile is bright. “I’m not a cheap date.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“Is Drew home? Do you have a key? We can drop your stuff off, eat, and then check up on your car?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“I know you said you’re bad with directions, but I need you to navigate.” It’s not hard or long before they reach Drew’s place. Not quite long enough for a full song to finish. Drew’s out on the porch when the two of them roll up.

She laughs, leaning onto the railing. “Bree when you told me you got stranded I thought you landed on the side of the road. Fancy meeting you again, Calum.”

“Hi, Drew. Turns out we’re neighbors.”

Drew arches her eyebrow, looking at back at Bree. Bree holds up her hands. “I’ll explain everything later. Over dinner.” Calum tries to bite back his grin, but glances over to Bree. The question dances across his eyebrows, everything everything? Bree rolls her eyes, going to the trunk.

____________________

When a knock sounds at Calum’s door, he almost doesn’t answer it. That laziness is helped by the fact that he was almost on the verge of sleep. But another knock immediately follows it. “Coming!” he calls out. He checks his phone first, but sees no text from Bree.

As the door cracks open, Calum’s greeted with a bright smile. Bree stands at his door. No rain this time, no mascara running down her face. Just her full cheeks and pouty lips and bright smile. “You said you’d text me.”

“I made cookies,” she returns, holding up the carrying tray. “As a thank you.”

Calum laughs, opening the door wider to let her in. Bree walks in and immediately spots Duke on the couch. “My precious boy!” she coos.

Calum takes the tray knowing that she’ll get distracted soon enough. It’s been a little over three weeks since Bree showed up at his doorstep. Most days they call, or text. Occasionally, Calum drags her out of the house to grab dinner with him or a couple drinks. There’s some unspoken rule, an energy between them. They keep it casual. But even still conversations on the phone can go until 2 in the morning. Calum just listening to the sound of her voice. He asks nearly any question under the sun just to keep her talking.

Bree asks more about the band, never crossing a line. Mostly to see how the other guys are doing, especially their dogs. Calum tells her a bit more about the music he’s making but work is mostly kept separate. Bree doesn’t want Calum to think she’s using him. Calum asks about projects but never makes her divulge more than she’s comfortable with.

Calum cracks open the tray and sees a mass of chocolate chip cookies displayed in front of him. He picks one off the top and the center practically melts in his mouth. He hums at the taste but knows there’s no way he can have that many cookies in his house. “This is too many cookies,” he calls out over the bite.

“That’s why it’s called sharing!” Bree returns, kissing the top of Duke’s head. She wonders into the kitchen, taking a cookie as well. “Did I interrupt a nap? I’m sorry.” His eyes are puffy and he keeps blinking.

“Was trying,” he admits, lower back resting into the edge of the counter.

“I’m sorry! I’ll go. Oh my god, really. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Bree is quick to push away from the counter and almost gets to the front door. Calum’s quick though and wraps her waist up in her arms.

“Nap with me?”

“I’m not sleepy. I just wanted to stuff my face with cookies and cuddle Duke.”

“You can do that, just stay with me please.” He buries his nose into her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. He covers her neck in kisses between pleas. Bree giggles at the light scratch of Calum’s scruff. He’s started letting the bread grow out, even though it’s a slightly pitiful excuse of a beard.

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stay.”

With her head resting on his chest, she listens to the steady rhythm of his heart. His hold is warm, but not uncomfortable. Duke’s at their feet and Bree thinks maybe she could take a nap. It wouldn’t hurt at all. Especially not if it was a nap on Calum’s chest. It was crazy to her, to think that fate had stranded on the side of a street but also introduced her to a great friend. And maybe there was more. Maybe there’s more for them down the road. But for now, they had an understanding.

“Did you think when you showed up at my door like a drowned rat this is what would happened?” Calum’s voice is soft and a little mumbly.

“No, I was bracing for you to be a serial killer. And instead you’re a serial cuddler, so I’ll that that any day of the week, hands down.”

They laugh, chest shaking against each other. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“It’s much appreciated,” Bree says in a whisper. She lifts her head just a little. His eyes are close, lashes practically brushing long his cheek. She lightly traces the moles around his mouth and cheek.

“That’s not napping, Missy.” Her response is a soft kiss and Bree rests her head against on his chest, arms squeezing at his waist. The moment is still and feels like it could never be broken.

______________ Tagging @5-secondsofcolor for your morning reads.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood one-shot #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood x black OC #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer blurb #h writes

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victorian-vampir · 4 years ago

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So like. I said I was gonna do this a while ago but now I finally am. How was the finale of Blood of Zeus supposed to make me feel? Zeus died and 1. I just didn't care because there was no reason for me to, nothing seems to have changed now that the king of gods is dead, no one even seems real concerned, not even Hades??? Who surely knows his baby brother is dead???

2. I just.. I feel nothing for anyone in that show. Aside from Kofi who is probably the best character because he's had like a collective 10 minutes of screen time where he had like two lines each time and otherwise he's just there.

That's what blood of Zeus is. It's there. It wasnt good, it was okay. By no means amazing and you'll probably have more entertainment from watching basically anything else on netflix. Blood of Zeus is only more than subpar if you like being bored and you skip the ending.

No I have many things to rant about so let's open this up:

Why did Seraphim have the Bident? Why did he have control of it? Why did Hades look like that? Why was Seraphim more interesting than our main character?

Why did Seraphim blame the gods for the death of his mother? He did that by his own free will and ZEUS TELLS HIM IT WAS HERAS FAULT. Which I still don't know why. It did nothing. Seraphim didn't change what he was doing, no one changed what they were doing regardless of what the gods or other characters said to do! But even then, if that did change Seraphims opinions of motives that would feed into the war Zeus didn't seem to want to have but did fuck all to stop from happening.

Heron sucks. Like a lot. He's not fun or witty, he's not a greek hero, he's just angry at Zeus or Seraphim or he's confused about things and that's it. That's as far as he goes. He's not interesting of fun to watch hes just there for us to follow. I can remember nothing he did that actually interested me because even the background gods had more appeal. You know why greek heroes are fun? They're tricksters. Most suck as people and are just doing good things usually for their own benefit. Heron is so fucking bland, I could watch cocomelon and have a much better time than any point when Heron was on screen.

Why was Hera like that? What was her motive? That Zeus cheated on her and I guess loved the woman for.. some reason? She should know she isn't the first or only woman Zeus had loves. But he's done this before, four of the offspring from him doing this before are standing behind Hera like everytime she's confronting Zeus about stuff. But she's not directing anger at them, she never even glances at them. It's only Heron she cares about despite the fact Zeus mentioned Heracles. So Hera has already done a revenge plot on Zeus's kids before.

Why NOW does she want to kill him? Why does she want to kill him? Why does she want civil war to spark between her literal family. She was just as upset about Heracles so Heron was her breaking point? A useless mortal when Apollo literally drives the sun? When Hermes is a psychopomp? When Artemis has an entire clan of archers? When Dionysus can drive people insane??? This milquetoast human guy is her issue?

Why was Zeus stabbed just to like.. heal it and it to never be brought back up? How long was Apollo in the ocean? Why was he not driving the sun?

Hera having that "He really did love me" moment when Zeus died? Means nothing to me because he TELLS HER THAT. He tells her that immediately when she asks. And sure he hesitates to tell Hera he doesn't love the other woman too but guess what Hera! You're immortal and his fucking wife while she isn't either of those things. You're being a petty bitch but you never once pull the wife card like you can.

Why does Zeus love Herons mother? We get no backstory for why Zeus loves her at all. Did he start off loving her? Did he develop love for her? But he only went there for sex, right? So what's up with that? What's his reason? I wanna know the reason for out characters actions and we get nothing.

The amazonian chick? I fear for her. She's the love interest I can feel it and fuck do I not want her to be. Like, leave Alexia alone. Please don't make her fall for Heron. Please. They're both so boring, I can't even describe.

Kofi, Evios, Apollo, and Hermes are the only interesting character in this story. And none of them do basically anything. They're the only characters I cared about and they were useless. Everytime Apollo and Hermes are on screen they're getting beat up or they're reacting to their dad saying something. These gods were as useful as the human beings we met three episodes ago.

What was Poseidons reason for anything? He didn't care what Zeus had to say at any point and even when Hera was clearly wrong and clearly up to no good in seriously obvious ways he stayed on her side until the ocean was put at risk. WHAT THE FUCK?! It's Poseidon!

I guess I'm glad they made Hades neutral? Like he usually is with god drama? But was he actually? Did the gods just.. ignore Cerberus? Did they ignore the Bident they should KNOW belongs to their brother? Especially Hermes??? Is Cerberus not get guard of the underworld in this universe? Why not? Explain that. Please. This is a major god who is HARDLY EVER MENTIONED DESPITE HIM DEFINITELY HAVING THE POTENTIAL TO BE SUPER IMPORTANT.

I like that they made Apollo Bi? But it also properly was just there to get a couple brownie points. Apollo is already bisexual in actual mythos so like.. it's assumed this version of Apollo is too? You don't get brownie points when Greek mythology is already so overwhelmingly queer. You don't have to show us the god is gay, the only people watching are greek mythology nerds who already know Apollo likes dudes.

I don't know. I'm just rambling about stuff that bothered me I guess. I was eh with the show but the finale ruined it for me. I said before that I'd probably watch season 2 but I'm not so sure now? I'm sure all of this has already been said so I'm just going to add to the pile but whatever. Sorry for any typos, I'm a little sick and I'm not gonna reread it all.

#Blood of Zeus #long post #rant post #tw cursing #tw caps #tw capital letters

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ofminas · 4 years ago

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hi i’m kofi , prefer she / they pronouns , am twenty3 , and reside in the est tz ! i have one semester before i’m officially a college grad , and i’m currently on semester break so i’ve been playing lots of animal crossing ! as always , i’m mega late to posting this intro and uh ... it’s oddly on brand for me . this is truly my very first supernatural rp so please go easy on me 🥺 ( and also why i’ve only picked up one chara for now , but i def may pick up another one in the future ! ) mina is a brand new muse so please don’t roast me too bad if there are changes as she develops ! that’s enough of my yammering , here’s some info on my love , mina !

something wicked this way comes … in the darkness of night under a starless sky , i’ve heard mina lee humming a familiar tune down the streets of new orleans , it sounded like damage by h.e.r. ; she might resemble bae suzy , if not for her indelible association with dog eared books lingering around her apartment , the delicate aroma of peach vanilla on skin , and a high ponytail bouncing during an early morning run . the twenty six year old gender human has called this city her home for three years , working as an owner at rancher’s grocery . as tensions ever rise , she seems to tolerate the pureblood monarchy . i would wish min luck in coming times , who knows how much of it they have left .

001. STATISTICS .

name : lee mina . nicknames : min , primarily . date of birth : october 9th , 1994 . zodiac : libra . birth place : syosset , new york . occupation : food blogger & grocery store owner . language(s) spoken : english & korean . love language : words of affirmation & physical touch . ethnicity : korean - american . orientation : bisexual & biromantic . class : upper middle . markings & piercings : a paper airplane on her right ankle & a small crescent moon on the side of her left breast . standard earlobe piercings , daith ( left ) , double helix ( left ) , snug ( left ) , and tragus ( right ) .

002. BACKSTORY .

the lee family has always been small , consisting of lee min - soo , lee ye - eun , their eldest son jae - young , and their daughter mina . with min - soo as a pediatrician at new york presbyterian and ye - eun as a professor at new york university , the lee family lived in a comfortable life in the suburbs of new york . although jae - young is six years older than mina , the two still got along well and were raised fairly normally . the only thing that truly marked mina’s birth was being born a year after the grand uprising . her parents , being older in age , constantly told mina and her brother about the purebloods and the pureblood monarchy with an unbiased approach ( despite being humans ) and ye - eun teaching an ‘ introduction to the monarchy ’ - type course at nyu .

growing up , mina has always had a tolerance for the pureblood presence . she would always hear the other kids her age battling over whose side they should be taking , but she never cared much . as a human , mina knew that her presence wasn’t important , and that she could only live for herself , so that’s what she did . mina lost friends through the years as those friends had parents who believed that the lees were too ... submissive to the pureblood monarchy . they weren’t submissive by a long shot , but is seemed as though their decision to live their lives as best they could considering that they were mortals ; their lives would end once they reached old age and that was the end of it .

fast forward to her college years , and mina gets a frantic call from her mother that her brother , jae - young , had run off and joined a group of hunters . apparently , jae - young had always been against the way that his parents and mina were so passive of the monarchy , and believed that he needed to help humans take back their power . the summer of 2012 , when she moved away to college , had been the last time that mina would ever see or hear from jae - young . mina completes college , and immediately takes a boring job that has nothing to do with her degree . mina finds love and adventure when she encounters romance for the second time during her sophomore year of college , and finds herself engaged at the age of twenty one .

but mina fears commitment , giving the bogus excuse of not being old enough for marriage to bolt . she abruptly ends the engagement , and high tails it out of new york before anyone can tell she’s gone . mina takes a road trip through the states until she winds up in louisiana in 2017 , carrying nothing more than a few suitcases , a credit card with a decent limit , $500 on her debit card , and a picture of her parents with her . when she arrives in new orleans , mina gets herself an apartment and when looking for a job that was definitely below the degree she held , mina managed to sweet talk the daughter of rancher’s grocery’s previous owner to sell to her . all it took was mina selling her car for a few thousand to make the deal .

now , mina has settled into new orleans . her ownership of rancher’s grocery has expanded into her developing a love for food , and is known for having a food blog called mealtime with mina . she lives in the french quarter , in a one bedroom apartment overrun with the few plants she’s managed to keep alive , random books stacked around her apartment instead of on the bookshelf , and it has her all time favorite purchase : a velvet pink couch . supports small businesses like her life depends on it , so don’t expect to see her out there shopping at department stores . if you do , she’s been brainwashed — send help , immediately .

003. PERSONALITY .

big neutral energy ! as an adult , mina might make some people upset with her opinion that evidently humans were doing something wrong in order to fall to the purebloods , so she keeps that to herself . much like her parents , she’s all about living her life as best she can and attempts to not stir the pot with the supernatural living around her . mina figures that they have their lives and she has her own ; despite her efforts , though , she’s managed to find herself .... entangled ( 😅 ) with the purebloods as she has become a paranobis . can be kinda dumb knowing the dangers of being associated with a pureblood and being around vampires , but still goes for early morning jogs anyways .

likes to enjoy herself , though . despite her neutrality and the way that her indifference speaks before she can open her mouth , mina likes to have a good time ! she can be the life of the party depending on the situation , and loves to drink , even if her mouth may get her into trouble . she can be very blunt at times , responds with ease to the energy that she’s given , and finds comfort in being with herself ! she will take herself on a date like there’s nothing to it , and enjoys the hell out of doing what she wants !

#ofmintro #uhhh yes xD pls love me

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mfingenius · 5 years ago

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Hello beautiful human! I just read through a lot of your works (I’m in love holy shit) and I think it was in Post Breakup you mention Draco having and relapsing into an eating disorder and I wondered if you could maybe explore a bit more on that topic? I completely understand if you don’t want to bc it’s quite a sensitive topic but I thought I’d ask anyways. Thank you! And thank you for your contribution to the fandom, you’re amazing!!!!!

Uf babe this is literally perfect for the angsty mood that I’ve been in :)

Please don’t read this if it might trigger you. That is the last thing I want, for anyone.

This is the fic that this ask is referring to, in case anyone hasn’t read it,, and this is going to be like a sort of prequel thingy about when they’ve only been dating for a year, before Draco started going to the therapist

(also omg i’m so flattered you called me a beautiful human thank you so much

Trigger Warning: Explicit mention of Eating Disorders, depressing and disordered thinking, mentions of self harm

***

“I’ve made Lasagna!” Harry says proudly, and Draco’s stomach sinks.

“Right,” He says, faintly.

Harry looks so proud of himself, and Draco knows Harry hates cooking. And it’s their anniversary, and Draco doesn’t want to ruin it by angering Harry, he really doesn’t, but he’s already gone past his calorie limit today - or he thinks he has, because of that Merlin damned muffin that Pansy made him eat could’ve easily had 600 calories, but Draco doesn’t know, does he, because it had only been wrapped in plastic - and he can’t can’t can’t binge again, he’s already gained half a kilogram because of the last time him and Potter had dinner together, and he hates it, all of it, why don’t they ever do another fucking thing?

“Are you alright?” And Harry, damn him, has the nerve to ask if he’s alright. If he’s alright. How could he be alright, when the only thing he wants more than to avoid eating is being with Harry, and apparently he can’t have both.

“I’m fine,” Draco says. He’s not. Harry knows, and Draco knows he knows because of the crease that forms between his eyebrows. Draco presses their lips together to distract him, and when they pull away he gives his best fake smile, walking past Harry and towards the kitchen. “Smells delicious. You want me to prepare a salad?”

Salad. He can control the salad. He knows exactly what he’ll put into it, he can know - approximately, since he can’t very well measure items without Harry noticing something’s up - how many calories he’s eating. If he eats a lot of salad and a small piece of lasagna and fasts for the next three days, he’d be fine. Not good, not well, but fine.

“I already made it,” Harry tells him, and Draco thanks that they’re not looking at each other because of the thunderous look that he knows crosses his face.

“Right,” Draco says, again. Harry’s hand is on his hip - and really, why Harry would want to touch him is entirely beyond him - and he squeezes lightly.

“Draco, are you sure you’re alright?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” He says.

“Alright,” It’s Harry who says it this time, because he knows better than to push. “Wine?”

Wine. And Lasagna. And Salad, and dessert, too, if the strong scent of chocolate and the can of whipped cream that Draco can see in the trash is any indication. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“I-” Draco feels his eyes prickle, and he hates it, because he’s not supposed to ruin this. He wants a fucking normal relationship, doesn’t want to come home to a dinner like this - wonderful, and thoughtful, and mouth watering - and be angry. He wants to be able to have a fucking normal dinner with his boyfriend.

Before he knows it, his shoulders are shaking, and he’s trembling all over, tears running down his face. He wipes at them furiously, tries - and fails - to get control of himself. He sniffles, and a sob escapes him.

He hears shuffling behind him - and that’s it, Harry’s leaving, surely, all of it is over, because why the fuck would he have wanted Draco anyway? It’s already been too long for it to be real, no one could possibly stand to be around him -

Harry’s not leaving.

Harry’s hand is on his shoulder, turning him around, pulling him into his chest.

He doesn’t say anything as Draco cries, only holds him.

After a long time - a long, long time, since whatever it is in the oven begins to smell burnt and the lasagna goes cold - Draco pulls away and wipes at his eyes with a tissue.

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner.” Draco whispers.

The crease between Harry’s eyebrows is back, deeper this time.

“It’s alright,” He says. “I don’t care about dinner. I care about you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Draco shakes his head. He’s managed to hide this from Harry for an entire year, he can hide it for however much longer he needs. Or maybe he doesn’t need to; maybe he could break up with Harry, save himself the trouble-

Immediately, he shakes his head to himself. No. He’s not going to break up with Harry. He can’t.

“I-” He swallows. “I can’t.”

"You can talk to me about anything, love.” He says.

Draco’s eyes fill with tears again, but he blinks them back, this time.

“I-” He can’t raise his voice above a whisper. “I don’t - I have - I don’t like to eat.” Harry frowns, and Draco speaks again, because he needs to get it all out before he loses his nerve. “I like to eat. I love to eat, but I hate - the calories, and the - I ate a muffin today, and I can’t - I don’t have - I can’t eat again, it’s too much, I don’t deserve-”

Don’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve to occupy the space he’s in, doesn’t deserve to need as much as he does, doesn’t deserve to live without pain. He can change it all he wants, pretend he’s better, he’s changed, but however it is that he’s self harming - and there have been many, many ways before this - it all comes down to one thing. He doesn’t deserve to be alive. Doesn’t feel like he should be.

But he can’t explain that, because Harry would be hurt by it and the last thing Draco wants is to hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, and his voice is unsteady. It’s not what Draco expected him to say. “That I didn’t notice. That I didn’t - fuck.” He rubs a hand over his face. “All those times, since our seventh year.”

He’s wrong. Draco has been doing this on and off since he was about fifteen, but they hadn’t been friends, then, so Harry had no way of noticing. He’d thought it’d be over by now, one way or another. If he was honest, he’d never thought he’d see seventeen, let alone nineteen.

“I thought you were just - picky.” Draco had pretended to be; only Pansy and Blaise, who’d known him before, had known that, when it came to food, Draco was the easiest person to please. He’d loved it, all of it.

Draco sniffles, tears welling in his eyes again when he thinks about it - because fuck, he did love it, the scent, and the warmth, and the taste, all of it, how loved he felt whenever anyone cooked for him - and Harry pulls him close again, hesitantly.

Draco practically throws himself on him, wrapping his arms around him as tight as he can, and Harry does the same, whispering reassurances and sweet words in his ear, the meaning of which Draco can’t process but appreciates anyway.

And he knows it’s not over - any of it; Harry will want to talk of mind healers, later. will want to know how he can help, what he can do, and even then, even if Draco goes to a healer - and he will, because he can’t do this anymore, he can’t keep living like this - there will probably be a long, hard road ahead of him.

He’s not excited for it, he couldn’t be. But if he recovers, he could stop torturing himself, and that’s all he wants.

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

Send me a Request :D

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ad1thi · 5 years ago

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we’re connected

commission for @hawkbucks, who asked for winteriron + bucky meeting harley. im really sorry this took so long, but i wanted to make sure i got it right before i put it out, (1) because you gave such a generous donation without even asking for anything and (2) you’re one of my favourite content creators

in this au, harley is tony and maya’s biological child; because i read a piece a couple of weeks ago where that was the case and i love that concept (if anyone remembers what fic that is, will they please tell me so i can link it here); and pepper and tony never get together.

set sometime after endgame, established relationship, desi!tony, irondad

James had survived 70 years as HYDRA’s plaything, died because of a megalomaniac purple minion and the absolute unit that is James Rhodes, and the thing he was still the most scared of was meeting Tony’s son

If the way Tony kept bobbing his foot up and down despite his aversion to people fidgeting their feet was any indication; Tony was also nervous

Silently, James reaches over and threads their fingers together, and Tony smiles at him gratefully

He leans his head against James’ shoulder, and they stay like that for a couple of seconds- until the bell at the front of the restaurant rings and they jump apart

Harley walks over and wraps his hands around his father from behind, leaning down to press a kiss on Tony’s cheek, before he pulls out a chair and sits down

“Harley Keener,” the eighteen year old says, extending a hand that James shakes, “its a pleasure to finally meet the guy who’s making dad so happy”

“James Barnes,” he replies, “but you already knew that”

He smiles at Harley, before a thought occurs to him, “wait- Keener?” he gestures between Tony and Harley, “I thought you were Tony’s kid?”

“I am,” Harley says, “but I didn’t know that until I was about 13. Plus, Harley Stark sounds like the name of a bike not a person”

James chuckles, and next to him- Tony’s shoulders slump ever so slightly, “yeah I guess it does”

“So!” Harley claps his hands, and starts looking around for a waiter, “should we order?”

Lunch goes smoothly, albeit slightly awkwardly until Tony realises that his son doesn’t hate him for getting a life, and he loosens up

Harley, James discovers, is just as witty as his father- an as intelligent, if not more

“It’s because mine and Maya’s DNA combined to form him,” Tony says- trying to demonstrate the bonding of DNA with his fingers, “individually we’re more geniuses so our baby is a super genius”

“Maya’s the um, EXTREMIS chick right?’ James asks- and instantly he knows its the wrong thing to say because Harley’s face darkens

“My mom didn’t create EXTREMIS,” he says coldly, “my mom created a serum intended to help veterans. Killian created EXTREMIS, and my mother died trying to stop him”

He dabs the napkin at his mouth, before pushing off the table, “excuse me I need the loo”

He shifts out of the way as Tony reaches for him, and Tony just watches him go- looking between the two of them helplessly

“I’m sorry,” James says urgently, because he needs to make sure Tony knows he didn’t mean to, “I’m so unbelievably sorry I didn’t realise what I was saying that’s completely on me I - “

He stops when Tony waves him down, “I know you didn’t mean it James, but I still gotta -” he gestures towards the bathroom, “Just stay here I’ll be back”

Tony pushes off the table and barely restrains himself from sprinting after his son, and James is left mulling at his food- wondering how he’d already fucked up

He’s picking at his mac and cheese, when Harley sits back down on the table; and James freeze immediately

“At ease soldier,” Harley says with a half smile, “I’m not going to bite”

“Where’s your dad?” James cranes his neck to look past Harley, who snaps his fingers in front of James’ face

“Dad’s not coming back, I asked him for some time alone with you”

There’s a familiar sense of dread taking over

“Look,” Harley says, scratching the back of his neck, “I’m new to this whole thing okay? I know my dad was this huge playboy before he knew I existed or whatever, but ever since he took me in- he’s never had a person over. I’ve only known him for 5 years but it feels like a lifetime, and this is hard for me”

“I’m not ready to share him with someone else,” Harley says- and James valiantly fights the urge to reach over and comfort the teenager, “but he seems to really like you, and from what I can tell; you do too so it should be okay”

James smiles,”I love your dad Harley, and I’m not trying to take him away from you I swear. Tony made it clear from the first date that you come first, and I respect that. I would never do anything to hurt him, he’s the love of my life”

“Good,” Harley says, the heat in his eyes a stark contrast to the nonchalant tone of his voice, “because if you do try and hurt him, I won’t be the only one coming after you. But I will be the one you don’t expect”

James gulps, but before he can try and think of a response; Tony comes back to the table with a tight smile on his face

“Everything alright here? How’re my favourite boys getting along?”

Harley turns around and beams at his dad, “swimmingly”

“I’m glad,” Tony says; settling in next to James, “now- about this Parker boy in your texts”!

Harley groans and covers his face in his palms, before mulishly talking about Peter, some guy from his Physics 101 class

Under the table, Tony’s fingers find his and they squeeze, and James knows that they’re going to be okay

Fin

i really hope you like this!! if anyone else wants to commission something, my kofi is linked here and im currently raising money for my greek gods au

#buckytony #winteriron #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky/tony #we're connected #my writing #harley keener #tony stark #bucky barnes #irondad #established relationship #irondad and ironson #slight parkner

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disarmingly · 6 years ago

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for kofi anon who wanted slice of life yoonkook with a hint of magic except there’s more than a hint im sorry i hope this is okay let me know if it isnt i will try again! please note that the very first section takes place in ‘present day’ for them while everything after that first section is their past leading up to that present. <3

jeon jungkook is your average good looking sort of introverted loves music is good at video games and dancing and singing and pretty much anything else he tries...young man. except for one thing.

"one thing," his boyfriend half scoffs half whines, snuggling himself closer to jungkook's side like a petulant cat that despite being smaller in stature manages to take up more space. jungkook says it's the shoulders. namjoon says it's yoongi's ~personality~. they are both probably right. anyway we weren't talking about yoongi. we were talking about jungkook and how he's your average fresh university grad who can walk on his hands and do backflips and draw and paint and make anyone who looks at him too long fall in love with him and-- --yeah. "one thing~," yoongi repeats with a groan and presses his face to jungkook's shoulder. bites him absently for good measure. jungkook yelps. * jungkook's magic manifested when he turned sixteen. "like a fucking disney princess," yoongi scowled the first time It happened. 'It' was a boy who had never met jungkook before, meeting his eyes in the supermarket and going five different shades from red to pink before stumbling over to him and babbling something along the lines of 'you're so beautiful oh my god'. yoongi, there at the time, stood to his full shorter height and stood slightly in front of a baffled jungkook, tilted his head at the blushing boy and said, "you're not wrong, but he's taken." the stranger apologized several times and walked away but both yoongi and jungkook were definitively aware of his eyes on jungkook their whole way through the checkout and out the automatic doors. "what the hell was that?" yoongi's hypothetical question would get its answer in the days and nights to follow as one by one jungkook felled multitudes of strangers and some not-strangers (much more awkward) -- not with a sword but with his....well...whole self. * some people's magic comes out at birth. some require a certain age. some are catalyzed by an event or even a special word. yoongi wishes jungkook could have been one of the minority of people in the world who didn't have magic at all. or that his magic could be something useful, like a magically present umbrella whenever he needed it. but no. jungkook's magic is exactly the kind of magic an average golden boy like jungkook would have: love. * "but it doesn't last," jungkook points out, shelving a book 'about soulmates and inevitable doom' where it actually belongs (certainly not with the gardening books, though jungkook was amused to find it there.) in addition to being temporary, if it's happened once, it doesn't happen again, so at least there's that. but yoongi, crouched low and properly ordering the books on the bottom shelf makes a clicking noise with his tongue to show exactly what he thinks and feels about that. jungkook sighs. "what do you want me to do? never leave the house again? i have to go to school--" "of course not!" yoongi's voice is louder than either of them expect it to come out. they get appropriately shushed. jungkook's ears turn red and yoongi feels immediate guilt for embarrassing him but he has a point to make. he continues, more quietly, "...that's...that’s not what i want." for a while they just keep silently setting this particular bookshelf's contents to rights. students file out. a few teachers leave. goodbyes and groans of 'see you tomorrow' get passed back and forth. at some point yoongi shuffles his way closer to jungkook, close enough to lean against his leg the way cats press along a person's shins when they want to say 'pet me human'. jungkook does in fact run his fingers through yoongi's dark dark hair, wishes yoongi wasn't quite so low to the ground so he could run them down to brush back and forth against his undercut; but later. there's something almost as therapeutic about petting as being petted. maybe that's just them. that's fine. when yoongi takes jungkook's wrist, it's just to tug his hand forward and kiss the palm, kiss his wrist, nose against his pulse and say, "i don't want you under house arrest. i want to take you to the movies. i want to go to the fair with you so you can win me stuff i don't need. i want to sit on the beach with you and everyone and toast marshmallows and....and all of the stuff we do. i want to walk to school with you. even if i'm not going here soon anymore." the last one hits hard. they haven't really talked about it. how yoongi going to university and jungkook still in high school will put a steep cut into their time...doing anything, house arrest or no. yoongi kisses his hand again. jungkook lowers himself so they can be closer. "that's very romantic," he says and he smiles too wide, so wide it hurts, smiles against the crying feeling. they're not breaking up. he shouldn't feel so sad. that's what he's been telling himself. but maybe yoongi understands. because yoongi says, "hey...hey come on." yoongi's arms fit around jungkook perfect. yoongi's mouth to jungkook's mouth also fits perfect. and yoongi's low toned reassurances of, "it's okay. it's okay," fit perfect enough. because it's more complicated than that, but sometimes perfect enough is about wanting to do the right thing even if one doesn't know precisely what that is. right now yoongi wants to let jungkook know he loves him. so he tells him it's okay. and he means all of it: the change of time and distance, jungkook's sometimes infuriating magic, and so on. it's okay. * what jungkook said is true. the effects of his magic which he can't control unless he never meets anyone's eyes ever again (impossible), vary in time. for some people predisposed to loving him already, the effects last longer. for absolute strangers, it seems the effects last anywhere from 24 hours to a week, the latter end of which is harrowing when it's someone who goes to school with him or lives in his neighborhood. but one of the things yoongi dislikes most about going to university is all the time away from jungkook in which god knows how many people are falling in love with him. the harmless ones are negligible he supposes; but some get pushy. he remembers several instances of people following jungkook home, waiting outside his window, and even ambushing him in empty classrooms. and it's not that jungkook can't take care of himself. jungkook is a soft heart but he knows how to defend himself and yoongi and the others have worked very hard to help him realize he's worth defending. still. yoongi's phone buzzes. he frowns and pulls to the side of the rode. dropping his feet to the ground with some difficulty. stupid namjoon and his stupid long legs; yoongi apparently didn't adjust the seat of the borrowed bicycle enough. whatever. he gets his phone out and his eyes widen. he sends a quick reply then bikes the rest of the way to the local high school so fast and so not within the standard cycling laws that no less than fifteen cars blare their horns at him en route. * he drops the bicycle in a hurry to get to jungkook who's seated on the curb with his head to his knees to avoid further incidents. it speaks volumes how tired he must be because he doesn't move and this scares yoongi more than almost anything, so when he lays a careful hand on jungkook's shoulder and jungkook jerks under his touch, he's honestly relieved, though he doesn't want to upset him. jungkook's eyes have dilated to be lamp-like. yoongi does the first thing that comes to his muscle memory and drops a kiss to jungkook's forehead. then he leans back and studies him. he has a split lip already swollen and starting to bruise at the right corner. right cheek too. there's a shallow bleeding scrape along his jaw too, smudged with gravel and dirt and yoongi's emotions can't settle on furious or devastated so he's both. he wants to frame jungkook's face but doesn't want to aggravate his bruises; and anyway he knows full well they should clean him up first, probably grab some antiseptic, some bandaids, an ice pack. jungkook sighs. "hey," yoongi settles for curling his hand on one of jungkook's knees. jungkook cracks half a smile. it looks like it hurts. "it's a little like a curse isn't it," jungkook says and he means it to come across as a joke but it falls flat because it's sort of true. "kook--" "i've never had it happen like that." jungkook interrupts and it's quiet. still pool quiet. yoongi aches. listens -- not just for jungkook's words but equally to his silence. cars pass. a little girl and her mother and a giant golden retriever start to pass by but not before the golden catches jungkook's tired eyes and pulls them over to him. he licks at jungkook's face and the mother is apologizing profusely but jungkook is giggling and then laughing and so yoongi fills in for him, "it's fine. this happens a lot." "dogs like him huh?" the mother says, clearly relieved and also bemused now. the little girl is curiously watching while petting the dog's fur the wrong way. a closer look has the mother frowning though and it's a fair question when she asks, "...are you both okay?" it's more delicate than yoongi associates with most parental strangers. he hates when people assume they know best or think they have the right to butt in just because they are 'an adult' or a parent or whatever. but she says it cautiously, like she knows it might be none of her business but is unwilling to ignore a boy with a fast blooming black eye; and that, yoongi can respect. so he says, "we will be." pauses. "thanks." the mother nods and they leave soon. jungkook watches them go, tension drawn out of him leaving him purely exhausted. yoongi had thought they would double-up on the bicycle because that's what they usually do, jungkook gleeful with the wind carding through his hair as yoongi pedals and complains that jungkook should be the one doing this; but that was before he got jungkook's text. seeing his line of vision, jungkook says, "can we...can we just walk?" yoongi kisses his temple very carefully, reaches for his hand and says, "whatever you want." * it's this near nightmare that spurs namjoon and taehyung into action. or rather, faster action. because they had been working on various experiments ('wasting' lab equipment but not really in their opinion and taehyung could charm the legs and arms off of a living person so they've gone unpenalized anyway) before. but when they all meet up next on the beach, jungkook's bruises and cuts still in the early stages of healing, it's too much. they go as far as to hide in cupboards ('how did you fit????' hoseok asks at some point, and namjoon just grimaces and says 'i fit okay') so they can stay in the school lab over night. this goes on for months and it's a bitter cold day in january when namjoon and taehyung (both slightly very too caffeinated) slam into jimin's garage (a modified hangout room complete with video game consoles, a bunch of musical instruments, a sofa, and a beanbag chair) and say, "we did it!" and then, "well, we think we did it." * magic is not science. but maybe science can be a little magic. jungkook's magic is the magic of love at first sight. namjoon's magic is the understanding of how things work. taehyung's magic is tricks of light. the perfectly round glasses they give jungkook that day are a product of both of these things, as well as the disciplined persistence of friendship. when jungkook puts them on, yoongi melts a little and thinks: how is this supposed to help if he's cuter than ever? but it does help. jungkook tests it on the first stranger he sees the next day -- a transfer student whose eyes happen to fall on jungkook first. he blinks. then he looks away. jungkook lets go of a breath so loud the people seated next to him turn and stare. he flushes pink from cheeks to ear tips; slides down in his chair -- embarrassed...and jubilant. * "weirdly it doesn't work on animals?" jungkook half says half asks but it doesn't matter. he loves animals and if that was all his magic had an effect on he wouldn't need these glasses in the first place. "huh," namjoon says which means he's going to pursue the why of it. "which you're very happy about," yoongi says. jungkook hums affirmative. they laugh. * they're walking back from the beach -- having declined seokjin's offer to drive them, wanting to have a little more time alone before parting ways (yoongi to his shared apartment with namjoon, jungkook back to the house with his family) -- and they're holding hands when jungkook pauses so quickly it jars yoongi to a stop. he trips. jungkook keeps him from falling. "sorry." "'s okay. uh...?" yoongi squints. in the sundown light jungkook's pink hair has a lavender cast. and jungkook has his special glasses on but yoongi's as deep in love as ever. that's not magic though. it's just how yoongi feels. it's this and other sappy thoughts he's having when jungkook angles his head down until their foreheads touch, brushes his nose against yoongi's nose and says, "no one's around." oh. yoongi's relaxed look goes narrow again but he's no good at denying jeon jungkook anything. he sighs. "fine." * yoongi's magic, though it rarely comes into play because it's too flashy and yoongi by nature isn't a flashy person, is also special. * an interesting thing about human beings: they rarely look up. but if they did on this particular night, they might see this: two boys holding hands and kissing against the pink lilac blue of twilight, the emerging moon as their backdrop, some 1800 feet up in the air. *

#yoonkook #sugakookie #drabble #kofi request #still taking kofi requests kofi name is darling #thank you for your help <3 #my moon and my stars #slice of life yoonkook w magic

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straight-outta-the-asylum · 8 years ago

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So @oraclegazes mentioned letting out my Xambrose headcanons and an anon asked pretty much the same thing. Really this is sort of wish-fulfillment for me and I have to let it out now that I know someone wants to know and I couldn’t fit it all in one reply. Just tryna write damn it lol still more than happy to do this these are just a few headcanons. I had a shit ton more but this is already getting really long

Alright so these two dorks meet when Roman drags Dean along for an UpUpDownDown segment w Sasha and Seth and the whole happy family

(Dean doesn’t want to go but that’s beside the point)

Like Dean ofc has seen Xavier backstage and fought him in the ring but this is the first time he actually gets to meet him (bc Dean doesn’t do outside normal interactions)

IMMEDIATELY Xavier is bouncing all over Roman and Dean and Dean’s like “wtf why” and tries not to be too weirded out

though he secretly finds it kinda funny and cute

So everyone gets to playing and dean sorta just sits off to the side, offering commentary and watching this little nerd

Xavier mentions Dean getting in on the action and Dean hasn’t touched a video game since he was eight and Mrs. Pacman was a thing

But then Seth calls him out and dean gets in on the action bc of course he’s not turning down Seth’s challenge

He also fails to notice Xavier’s pure smile of joy but that’s beside the point

Dean, of course, gets his ass whooped like it isn’t even a contest but Xavier’s all nice and encouraging even when everyone else is laughing and teasing

“I pressed the wrong button like three times how is that a good job”

“But you hit me a few times that’s good!”

Xavier secretly finds the homeless looking ginger quite cute when he gives a small smile

Xavier makes sure to compliment him at random intervals in their game bc it makes Dean smile a bit shyly at the praise

Dean gets invited for more video game lessons to help him not suck as much and he happily agrees

These two keep up “video game lessons” for a few weeks. One is an actual UpUpDownDown thing, but the others are just sessions to play

The only game Dean is good at is Mortal Kombat so they end up playing that a lot

One time Dean gets so excited after winning a match he brings Xavier in for a side-hug, grinning like a madman at the victory

Xavier tries to hide the blush that goes along with his smiles, hoping Dean doesn’t notice

Dean ofc notices and being a sneaky little shit makes a challenge so if he beats Xavier he does something for him

Xavier is confident and it’s a hard match but Dean wins barely

his prize is to kiss Xavier and Xavier is sure he’s turning a dark red but he nods and they kiss, a bit slowly.

It’s quite unlike anything either one has felt; Dean bc Xavier is a little gentler than he’s used to, Xavier bc Dean is a little more confident, but there is a hint of hesitancy.

Right as soon as they pull away it’s decided that video games are no longer needed as an excuse to get closer

(Though when they have dates a lot of them are video game sessions)

Dean turns out to be the v shy, uncertain one as time goes on. He asks a lot of the time if he could hold Xavier’s hand or seems to think twice about kissing him like these guys aren’t even in public half the time and Dean is so unsure he feels the reason to ask Xavier for permission to show affection

Xavier finds this absolutely adorable as much as he tries to get Dean to act more open

“Why are you asking we’re dating”

“But what if you don’t want to”

“Dean I always want to”

“Why don’t you tell me this”

“I do every day you just don’t listen”

The only time Dean will ever get close to PDAs is after matches like if he thinks Xavier got hurt regardless of win or lose he will be all. over. his. boy.

“Dean I promise I’m fine”

“But Xav-”

“What are you doing”

“I’m taking care of you”

“Taking care of you” basically means Dean drags Xavier to the locker room or the hotel room, depending on his patience, and basically cuddling holding him and making sure he’s alright

However if Dean gets actually hurt and Xavier wants to treat him the same Dean vehemently denies it and Xavier has to break him down to even get to hold him in comfort

“I don’t need it”

“Please just let me”

“You shouldn’t”

“Why not I wanna”

“Xav, c’mon it’s not worth it”

(At this point Xavier pretty much realizes it’s time to bring on the big guns and lays into Dean exactly why he deserves it and Dean reluctantly lets him in)

E and Kofi love to tease these two and secretly have a little network with Roman

All three of them constantly like to tease the two in any way

Basically so does everyone in the locker room

Secretly they’re all very happy for the two and think that they’re one of the cutest couples the business has

Doesn’t mean they’re completely open about it

Dean is extremely shy about it; not because they’re two men or interracial, that doesn’t matter to him; he just gets very nervous about questions and that people won’t be as open to it. Putting the spotlight on and having people examining them makes him v nervous

Xavier is completely okay with that and in public makes sure that if Dean doesn’t want to be open, makes sure to introduce them as just friends

Dean loves him for this

Sexy fun times are rare enough but when they do happen it’s a v different atmosphere depending on who’s in charge

Xavier makes it very fun, constantly asking if Dean’s okay or trying to make it a happy experience for him, taking care of the both of them

Dean is a little rougher, though he does take care of Xavier, trying to make sure he’s alright and he’s not hurting, though he does find a bit of pleasure in pounding into his boyfriend if they’re in the right mood

For both of them, sex is vanilla in terms of kinks for the most part, and aftercare is v cuddly and soft

Eventually for an anniversary Dean decides to get Xavier something but he doesn’t know what; he just knows he needs to get him something, damnit

Xavier’s been eyeing a new console system so Dean decides to get him one, even though he has no idea what’s so special about it

“Its goes with a tv, AND it’s portable”

“That makes no sense you have like fifty like that”

He nearly faints when he sees the prices on the new consoles but when he has spare time he goes to Gamestop and tries to buy the system it is he doesn’t have, along with the new Zolda or Zeldo or whatever to go with it

He knows basically nothing about whatever it is he got but he still gets v nervous and excited about it

There’s no build up to it Dean just waits until they have a free moment on their anniversary and shoves a wrapped box into Xavier’s hands without looking him in the eyes

He does however catch his big ass smile and Dean can’t help but return it as Xavier opens it

That night Xavier insists on taking care of Dean, threatening him if he doesn’t let him

Dean complies bc Xavier gets very serious about this and he doesn’t want to argue

Afterwards Xavier gets a little shy as well and hands Dean his gift, which Dean almost doesn’t accept because he wasn’t expecting anything, but he loves it

Next time Xavier uses it on UpUpDownDown he credits the gift Dean gave him “a present from my favorite person in the world”

Dean most certainly does not grin like an idiot as he watches this backstage on his phone before one of his matches and the heart and “Love you” Xavier sends him over text most certainly does not occupy his thoughts the whole match

#dean ambrose #xavier woods #xambrose #xambrose ftw #wwe headcanons #headcanon #ramblings in the asylum

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alisonfloresus · 7 years ago

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The Play With Plague: TNA Report For 4/30/09

Welcome everyone, to my first article, and the first TNA report in a long time. I’m gonna start this off by letting you know that right now TNA is my favorite now. And why? Very simply, they never went PG. They’re still doing what has worked for them in the past; having hardcore matches, writing real storylines, not the Dr. Seuss crap that we’re currently receiving for grandpa Vince and the WWE. Anyway…TNA is the only wrestling report that I’d be able to write without turning it off. Regardless, here’s what were gonna be looking at tonight.

Preview: The Godfather’s Revenge The 3-D Invitational will continue Madison Rayne vs. Awesome Kong (Stretcher Match) Abyss vs. Cody Deaner (Cody can use weapons) Last week, Jeff Jarrett says he will fire Mick Foaly Who knows what’ll happen with Lashley Kevin Nash & Booker T vs. AJ Styles and Samoa Joe

The show starts with JJ walking away from a meeting ticked off. Hmm I wonder why? JB asks what the Mick Foaly situation, and Jeff walks away with a, “No comment”. Foaly comes out and explains that not only is he the Executive Shareholder, he’s also the TNA Champion, and Jeff can’t fire him. That’s good news. An untouchable Mick Foaly. Next week the ring will probably be made of tacks.

The MEM comes out to the ring, all but Sting. Kurt starts on a rant about how he’s the Godfather and he’s in charge, and brings it back to respect. And he’s coming for Mick. He makes Jeff the offer that if he’s in the Four-Way Match at Sacrifice, whoever pins him will become the Godfather of the Mafia. Please Sting save us!!! He then informs Foaly that Kurt’s going to take over his office and his job tonight. Back to Mick and JB, who asks Mick about what Kurt just said, who responds (Being Mick Foaly of course) What’d Kurt say? What? A takeover?!? Jeff comes in and wants to kick Mick’s [ beep ]. He says normally he could handle Kurt, but he has 25 stitches above his eye and can’t see well, and then Mick asks him to watch his back tonight. Wow. I didn’t think Foaly could seem any stupider after the “Cactus Jack Smack Attack”, but I was wrong.

We come back to the Mafia and Lauren. Not paying attention until Scott Steiner comes in and says he wants Jarrett. Kurt says that he needs Scott tonight. Guess that’s the end of that discussion.

MATCH 1: 3-D Invitational. Motor City Machineguns vs. Amazing Red and Suicide. Wait who? Apparently some guy in TNA 5 years ago. Whatever. I know the Guns are in it, and that’s good enough because I love watching these guys wrestle. Fast paced, tag team action.

Someone make this match happen. Ultimate X: MMG vs. London and Kendrick vs. Kofi and Evan Bourne vs. Speed Muscle. AWESOME.

Anywho, Beer Money and the team of Eric Young and Trevor Murdoch both advance in the tournament. Shelly and Red start off. Lock up, a few counters, then Red hit’s a jumping arm drag off the ropes. Okay starting to like him. Red does a hurricurana and Suicide comes in. Leg drop and a Gorilla press to Shelly. Red comes back in and gets leapfrogged to the corner, and then takes a double MMG kick to the head. Sabin’s in, and we see some sweet double team from the guns, including a double dropkick with Red in the Tree of woe and some crazy flipping. Sabin has Red in an octopus stretch, and after some failed move, Red does some crazy double flipping neckdrop, and it looked sweet. Suicide comes in and does a double rolling somoan drop to the guns, one grounded, then slamming the other on top. MMG pulls some kicks to Suicide, then Red comes in and does a modified spinning power bomb. It was weird, in a good way, and he took out Sabin. Suicide Solution on Shelly for the win, and then disappears.

Winners: Amazing Red & Suicide.

Overall a really good opening match. Fast paced, with a returning TNA alumni. I do love the X-Division though.

Match Rating: 8/10

Angle Promo.

We come back to the Beautiful People. Shoot me in the head. They may be hot, but just too dumb for me. Knowing them they’ll prove me right. Lauren says that on paper, Rayne doesn’t have a chance against Kong. And on cue, the brainless blonde comes in, Love since there are three of them, and makes a speech that would make a idiot cry, mentioning that on paper Lee (civil war general) was supposed to invade Poland (WW2, oh and not even in the US), and that Steve-O was supposed to win Idol. I have nothing more to say, partly because my IQ took a big dip watching that. I need the break to recover.

Abyss promo.

Then we see Abyss and Lauren talking about his match, where his opponent can use weapons and he can’t, because that will help him get over his use of weapons. Ya, a coma would do that to someone. Billy Bob Thorton and ODB come out, and The Ultimate Redneck starts trash talking Abyss. I think he’s been hanging around the Beautiful People. Stupid really is contagious. The most exciting part of that was ODB’s hair.

More Angle promos.

Foaly is trying to recruit the Guns to help him. Talking about his stitches. The guns say they have bigger issues, but Foaly wants to help. They want to know who Suicide is, and he tells them its Al Snow. Stupid is a bigger issue in TNA than Swine Flu right now.

Match 2: 3-D Invitational. Homicide vs. Doug Williams & Brutus Magnus. Hernandez gets taken out backstage by the British Alliance or whatever they’re called. I don’t like them. Anyway, so it’s a handicap match. Predictable, with Homicide getting a few good spots. What is TNA’s deal with death? Homicide, Suicide, Jay Lethal.

Winners: Williams and Magnus.

Not really interesting, and again, predictable.

Match Rating: 4/10. Dragged on way too long when we knew the outcome.

More damn Angle promos. Please no more. Please Dixie help me.

Match 3: Stretcher Match. Madison Rayne vs. Awesome Kong Rudy Charles clears the arena to make it a fair match. HA!!! Kong does a choke slam, clothesline, puts her on the stretcher, 6 count, pulls her off, Implant Buster. 7 count, Kong pulls her off again, Awesome Bomb. The crowd chants for one more, and she obliges. 10 count and this is over.

Winner: Awesome Kong (who would’ve guessed?)

Match Rating: 5/10. It was short, so that’s why its higher than the last one.

The Beautiful People freak out over Rayne and call for help. As medical professionals are taking her out on a stretcher. As they are headed to an Ambulance. Idiots.

Promo. Please no Kurt, no Kurt. YES!!! Nash!!! No…damn you Dixie. It’s a MEM promo. So Kurt’s still there.

The Motor City Machineguns are back out, and they say they know who Suicide is. Al Snow? No, they call out Christopher Daniels. Close guns, about two weeks ago you would’ve been right. They rant about him getting fired (twice actually), him on the Indy circuit, and how much he wanted to get back to TNA. Shelly says that they have the same build. Then…he actually said this…I mean come on Daniels that [ beep ] is unmistakable. Dear god. There’s something you’ll never hear in the WWE. Eventually, Chris gets tired of this and lays a beat down on the guns. They run out, and we go to the back where…

Mick Foaly is now back talking to Samoa “Taz 2.0” Joe. Yes Mick we know you have stitches, please shut up about them. After his plea, Joe just walks away, and Mick says he needs to go to plan C.

Match 4: Cody Deaner w/ ODB vs. Abyss (Cody can use weapons) Okay so Jeff Gordon grabs a tray and hits Abyss in the head. Nothing. Then Billy Bob grabs a trash can lid and repeats. Blood, and laughter. Cody gets a Kendo stick, but Abyss grabs it. He thinks about using it, then chops him across the chest. He crawls to ODB who dumps the contents of her flask in his mouth. Yes. That’s TNA right there. He sprays whatever drink it is in Abyss’s face and hits him twice with the garbage can, with Abyss now on the ropes. Kendo stick to the head and Abyss goes down!!! Oh no he didn’t he’s still up. He hits him about 8 more times and Abyss is still up. Deaner grabs a chair and finally floors Abyss. Then…he takes a wrench…out of his phanypack. What the hell. He tries to hit Abyss, and runs into a Black Hole Slam.

Winner: Abyss

Decent match, some hardcore moments. The most hardcore was still probably ODB’s hair. It was a good looking slam for the win. Really funny too.

Match Rating: 6/10

And now…ANOTHER DAMN KURT ANGLE / MEM PROMO!!!!!

Lauren is now interviewing Daphnie, another of Dr. Stevie’s Patients. Blah blah, she has a thing for Abyss. Okay, the crazy emo nut job I can understand, but Lauren? Come on.

JB is in the back with the Mafia. It’s boring, the women were arguing, and Angle was the voice of reason.

Matt M-m-m-m-m-organ is now out roid raging. Anyone remember the stutter he had in WWE? He wants in the Mafia.

So now maybe we can have an actual match…no its another interview. AJ and Lauren. AJ says he doesn’t want the nation of violence, he wants the Samoan Submission Machine. He doesn’t know if he can trust him. How many interviews am I supposed to sit through? It’s a two hour show, there are five matches.

Rhino and his soldier friend promo. Why not? Sum up, Rhino’s training the guy, apparently has tourettes, but calls it tough love.

Match 5: Kevin Nash & Booker T vs. AJ Styles & Samoa Joe. Oh yeah, we have matches. Joe doesn’t come out. Booker and AJ start, trade armbars, AJ dropkicks. Nash in, and gets trapped in the corner. AJ punches and spears, then Kevin powers out. Puts AJ on the turnbuckle, who puts Kevin in a sleeper. Booker comes in, Aj clotheslines, takes Booker out, flying forearm to Nash. Joe comes out.

Back with Booker in control. Double team on AJ, Joe comes in and takes Book and Nash down. Dropkicks Nash, and they both go outside the ring. Booker hits AJ with the Legends Championship. Pin. Winners: Booker T & Kevin Nash

Match Rating: 7/10

Mick’s talking to someone who headlined Wrestlemania about his stitches, and tells them to get Angle when he says now.

Guess what? Yep another MEM promo.

Angle comes into the office. Foaly says “now” to no avail. Mick asks why are you so angry? So Mick negotiates with Kurt to let him hit him with something to make them even. One chair shot. No guitar shot. No thats JJ’s call for a chair. It was weird, and also funny. Watch the TNA replay at the end to see it. So while on the phone, Foaly hits Kurt with the phone. He goes to the closet where the mystery headliner was supposed to be. He opens it, and there are golf clubs in there. What? Oh. Foaly pulls a sock off of one of them, and its Mr. Socko. The lights go out, and someone in a skull hoodie hits Foaly with a chair. Unzips the hoodie, and its Sting. Huh?

So that’s my first report. It was an…interesting show. Too many promos, not enough matches. And three of them were squashes. But some cool twists. Damn I’m out of words. So I’m out.

from JournalsLINE http://journalsline.com/2017/07/11/the-play-with-plague-tna-report-for-43009/ from Journals LINE https://journalsline.tumblr.com/post/162867463965

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

Text

In Sorrow and In Joy- Part 2: Second Chances

Luke learns the hard way what it means to be a dad and how to keep his family safe and together. Dad!Luke with a South Asian Reader. This is a collaborative experience with A Family of Five.

CW: Over the course of this series, themes of racism and prejudice on the basis of religion are present. Please read or skip as necessary.

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permssion to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations, as well.

______________________________

Luke stares up at the brick building. He knows he should go in; he wants to go in. But his legs are terrified. Going in means admitting he has a problem. Going in means admitting his wife and child have left him. Going in means he can no longer bury himself in his woes, in alcohol, in chasing down his youth. Going in also means getting back his wife, no, technically ex-wife. Luke wants his ex-wife back. His wants his princess back. But he has to go in, he has to tell some stranger all his problems. He wants his family back.

Luke unbuckles himself, exhaling as he opens the car door. He can do this. He can walk into that office. He can walk through that door, tell the receptionist he has an appointment. He can do this. “Good afternoon, sir,” the receptionist greets.

“Afternoon. I have an appointment at 2:30 with Dr. Johnson,” Luke says. “Hemmings, Luke Hemmings.”

The woman nods, clicking at her keyboard. She grabs an iPad. “Alright, we need you to fill out this questionnaire right quick. And once you finish that, he’ll be right with you.”

Luke nods, a small smile crossing his face. He takes the iPad and turns to the chairs. There are only two other people waiting. Luke settles against the back wall, towards the end of the row, right next to the stack of magazines. This corner feels safe, feels like no one is watching him. Though the receptionist is sitting directly across from him. But she’s busy filling, messing with paperwork.

He fills out his name, states his reason for the visit and then starts answering the questions. His hands start to shake. On a scale, rate how much these are like you from Not at All, to Very Much Like Me. He’s praying alcohol doesn’t come up; he prays they don’t ask him about depression, anxiety. The first few questions are about anger, coping with it. Those aren’t too bad; those are easy to answer. Until he gets to I feel overwhelmed, or nervous, most days of the week.

Luke sighs. He feels fucking overwhelmed right now. Very Much Like Me, he taps the corresponding box. He scrolls down. Shit, this is the stuff he was trying to hide. He could run; he would return the iPad and walk out the fucking door. He wouldn’t have to sit here, becoming a puddle of sweat. He grips the arm of the chair, forcing air out through his nostrils. Running is the exact behavior that landed him here. He always runs. There’s nowhere else to run. He can’t run to alcohol; he can’t run to parties. He can’t run to drugs. Escapism is the biggest lie. Luke is stronger than that. He has to be stronger than it, has to know the true demon that lurks beneath the veil.

Finished with the questionnaire, Luke walks back to the window and hands the iPad over. “Dr. Johnson will be with you shortly,” she smiles at him.

How the fuck can she smile like this, all the time, Luke wonders. Maybe it’s helpful for some. Maybe it makes them feel normal. Everyone knows what’s happening in that waiting room; everyone knows that some kind of invisible demon is haunting the people that sit in these chairs. Settling back into his seat, Luke picks at his nails. The gel polish is mostly gone. Occasionally he’ll pick too deep and nick his nail. This is nerve-wrecking. This is worse than when he stood outside the front door, knowing just on the other side there were going to be divorce papers.

He overheard you once a couple months earlier on the phone. He knew his fate was sealed. He didn’t fight it. He should’ve. He should’ve raised hell. He should’ve promised then to get help. But Luke knew that promise was hollow, even though it never left his lips. That promise to you would’ve been so hollow it would’ve echoed in that bedroom. It would’ve shattered your heart, he’s sure. Because you would’ve sat there and watched him break that promise over and over and over. But he’d keep giving you hollow words. It’s a good thing you left him. He hates not waking up to your curls in his face. He hates eating the food he makes, he can’t every season it like you. He hates not hearing Zahra’s squeals. His apartment is so fucking quiet.

He’s never home because of the silence. It is not home, honestly. It could never be a home without the two of you. “Mr. Hemmings,” a soft voice calls out.

Luke looks up from god-awful navy blue and red dotted carpet to this voice. An elderly man stares back, a smile resting on his face. Luke grips the arms of the chair for maybe a second too long before pushing to his feet. “How are you?” Dr. Johnson asks as he approaches.

Terrified, exhausted, angry, hurt. “Alright,” Luke answers. “You?”

“I’m good. Thanks for asking.”

Luke follows behind the graying man, past offices with door shut. He can’t hear what’s happening behind them. But he has an idea. In Dr. Johnson’s office, Luke settles into the couch, brown leather with a throw pillow in it. It’s low to the floor. Luke feels a tad more secure as his knees press damn near his chest. It’s like the fetal position, his body closing in on him. The leather jacket and leather seat are going to make for a hot combination, for the moment, Luke welcomes the uncomfortable heat. It reminds him that he’s here for a reason, that he’s got to fix himself--for his family, for his child, for himself.

“So,” Dr. Johson says, after tapping away at the computer and pulling out a notebook. He settles into the other low seated chair across from Luke. “I read that your here to get help. Care to explain a bit more for me?”

Luke swallows, throat closing. He needs so much help, so much fucking help. “I need to get my family back,” he answers softly. “My wife left me, took our daughter too. She had every right to leave. I fucked up. I want them back.”

“Are you only getting better for them?”

Luke shakes his head, tears threatening to take over his vision. “I’m tired of running. I wanted to stop years ago. It just took losing everything for me to realize that.”

“Tell me what happened. What are you running from? What are you running to?”

The air is his lungs rushes out past his lips. He’s been running from so much. He’s been running to all the wrong things. “I love my family. But I had a kid before I was ready. I ran from that straight to the bottle. I haven’t had a drink in two weeks, but I know I could easily slip. I don’t want to slip again.”

Dr. Johnson nods, scratching something down on the legal pad. “Well, I’m proud of you getting that far. If you’re serious about help, I can help you. You’re on the right track, taking the right steps.”

__ Zahra runs to the door, after hearing the doorbell ring. It’s Friday night, she knows it’s Luke coming over for dinner. You slide the pan out of the oven, shouting. “Ra, wait!” For the past three and a half months, Luke comes over for family dinners. You didn’t want to completely rip Zahra away from Luke. That was her father, she needed him. He needed Zahra too. It keeps him sane, the highlight of his week is coming over for dinner. She gushes about what’s happening at daycare; her friends. She shows him all her latest drawings. After setting the pan onto the table, you walk over to the door where Ra bounces in joy. Luke stands on the other side of the door, you gather from the glance into through the peephole.

Opening the door, Ra runs to her dad, “Daddy!”

He laughs, showing one hand to her. “Hey, baby girl.” No matter how many times you open that door for Luke, the reunion always makes your heart swell, your eyes a tad watery. Does Zahra hate you for doing this? For putting the three of you into separate houses? You hope she doesn’t. You pray the weekly visits help.

Luke looks up from his squat, unveiling a small bag to you. “It’s for Zahra, but I don’t want to forget to give it,” he says.

With a nod, you take it and he collects the little girl into his free arms, walking into your place. This feels like home to him. It’s not the old house, you didn’t want it and neither did he. He’s not sure who the new owners are, he doesn’t care. The only thing he knew was that too many ghosts lived in that house for him, too many nights of him staying downstairs, stumbling over himself, cursing himself for being too loud. You couldn’t bare to waking up in such a huge bed without his soft snores. You didn’t want to eat breakfast at the same counter you handed divorce papers over.

Zahra clings to her father, face buried in his pale neck. He still smells the same, she thinks. This is still her dad, though he’s not in the same home as her. Though the only person when the nightmares scare her is her mother. “Can you stay the night, Daddy?” she whispers. “I miss you.”

The bag falls into the couch cushion from your fingers. You knew she missed him. You knew she knew how empty the place was without him. She had just never said that to you. She had never uttered the words to express how much she felt her father’s absence. “Oh,” Luke starts, turning to you. The door closes with a soft thud. “Uh,” he’s waiting for you to jump in. He’d love to stay, but this is your house. These are your rules. He can’t make that call.

Heart thundering in your chest, you tuck some hair behind your ear quickly. Luke knows that tick--a nervous twitch, one full of panic. “What are you doing over the weekend?” you ask.

Luke freezes, he wasn’t moving before. But now his muscles seize up on him. Most weekends he goes to the pier, watches the wave. The beach has become a solace for him now. He goes there, goes to the studio to write, then goes home. His life is slowly coming together; he’s learning how to be by himself. “Nothing,” he finally answers.

“Take her for the weekend. She has Brittany’s birthday party at 2 tomorrow, at their house. But that’s it.”

“I’m not--,” he starts. You shake your head, waving a hand to dismiss his statement. He’s taken her the day, on small trips to just hang out. The courts have left that up to your discretion. But overnight, weekends, Luke gave up. He wanted to get his head on straight before taking those rights. He has to check in at 6 months into therapy before the courts will rule on whether he can have weekends.

“I know you have another two and a half months before evaluation, I don’t care. Take her for the weekend.”

He’s laid in bed at night, wishing to take her home with him, staying up until she passes out underneath blanket forts, having her on his shoulders as they walk around the zoo, helping her with whatever work she was learning at the time. He misses those soft moments with her. He needs those moments back. That’s the whole reason he doesn’t keep a bottle in his house, why he doesn’t stay out long with the boys. Because the later the night goes, the more tempted he is to just have one drink. One of the boys always sees him out, he calls Ashton usually, when he gets home. It’s a system--it works. He’s thankful for it.

“Are you serious, Mommy?” Zahra questions.

You nod, looking over to it. She’s not a spitting image of you, some features taking more after Luke, but brown chubby cheeks are lifted in a smile like yours. “I’m serious, sweetie.”

“I don’t wanna go to Brittany’s party,” she says.

“We already got her a gift and said we were going. You have to go.”

“But I don’t want to be away from Daddy.”

“I’ll be there, sweetheart. The entire time,” Luke interjects. He doesn’t want to be away from his princess either.

During dinner, Zahra and Luke plan what other activities they can do over the two days--the movies they can watch, if they should go to the bookstore to find the new book she wants or if ice cream is a better idea. Zahra suggests both, Luke reaches over, running his fingers through her hair and agrees.

Zahra drags Luke behind her, to help her pack her bag for the adventure to his house. Luke finds her bag. “Two outfits,” he directs, opening the dresser to pull out socks and underwear. He hasn’t stocked his place with clothes just yet. She has a few things, mainly just in case she has an accident. Her room was already fully decorated. The first room he completed, it was way too early. But he wanted to make sure that was perfect for her, that she knew she was loved and welcomed by him still.

Zahra hands Luke her choice clothes and he slides them into the bag. She grabs her favorite stuffed teddy bear, survey her room. “Shoes, baby girl. Which ones?” he asks, looking at the collection her closet.

With a nod, she walks over and picks out a pair, glittery and blue. Satisfied that everything is packed, they walk back up front. She give you a hug. “Love you,” she whispers.

“Love you too. Be good for Daddy.”

She nods, smiling. “Of course.”

Luke stands near the door, the pink backpack on his shoulders. “Thank you,” he says. You don’t have to do this. Both of you know you can’t ever mention this, know you’ll have to bribe Zahra to keep quiet about this. But his chest is full again.

“No need to thank me. She’s your kid too.”

It’s only after they have left do you realize that the bag for Zahra is still on the couch. You don’t dare peek inside. Instead you put it on her bed for when she returns. Being with her father is a much better gift anyhow.

__ As you’re picking Zahra up after your last lecture of the day, your phone rings. You don’t answer, don’t even look to see who it is. Until you get home. There’s a voicemail from Luke. You listen to it, pulling your bag from the front seat. “I know you’re probably driving right now. But I was wondering if I could get Ra tomorrow, just for the day. There’s a festival in town--we’re not playing. Some friends are, just wanted to take her with me if that’s okay. Talk to you soon.”

Zahra watches you from the front seat, shocked at your long silence. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Dad’s coming to get you tomorrow for the day,” you smile back at her. She cheers in her carseat, the rest of her evening made. You call him back, agreeing to let her go for the day. One day out of daycare is not going to hurt her. While Zahra floats on cloud nine, you are a nervous wreck. Luke’s pulling himself together. Only two more weeks until his first eval and your gut tells you, he’s going to do well with no problem.

You watch him at family dinners, the way he’s never overstepping, but firm. He always has to warn about the veggies, she’s a bit of stubborn about them. You listen to the way she talks about her days with him, the way she talks about just laying on the couch with him, watching movies, the way he listens to her days, the way they color together. She gets huffy when he reminds her of manners, and patience, almost as if she’s not quite realized that Luke will always discipline her about those things no matter what. He’s still her parent, even if he’s not there 24/7.

Getting Zahra ready is tough. She bounces all over the place, excited to get some time with her dad. It makes you happy, but when Luke knocks to pick her up, she’s still not dressed. Which is not ideal. You open the door, letting Luke in. He’s in white button up, though some of the button’s aren’t done, skinny jeans and a leather jacket. Suddenly the urge to kiss him hits you, but you swallow it back down. This isn’t his normal attire for coming over. You never lost attraction to him, but this look surely makes it a bonfire instead of a burning candle.

Even with the mild distraction, you’re able to focus on the tasks at hand. “She’s being a bit rambunctious today. She’s dressed, just needs to finish eating and brush her teeth.”

Luke nods, with a smile. His face is fuller now too. On his walk over to the dining room table, his fingers brush over yours. Zahra rushes down the rest of her meal, wanting to head out as soon as possible. You collect the bowl, rinsing out in the Luke.

“Brush your teeth. I’m timing for the whole two minutes,” he says to Zahra. She groans but runs to the bathroom.

You can feel Luke’s gaze burning holes in the back of your head. What does he want? His presence closes in on you, the warmth from his scolding your back almost. “I know I really fucked up,” he starts.

Do not turn around, you warn yourself. “You’re human.”

“No, but I really fucked up. I ran from my responsibility when I shouldn’t have. I made you effectively a mother of two, trying to baby me and raise an actual baby. I can’t promise I won’t stumble, that I won’t make other mistakes. I just need you to know that you handing me those divorce papers was the wake up call I needed. I’m sorry for making you got through that. I’m sorry for acting like a child instead of speaking up.”

His hand wraps gently around your wrist, warm and firm. Pulling you from the counter, he turns you, blue eyes meeting brown. You swear for a second the air leaves your chest. His remorse swims behind his eyes. “I’m asking this kind of early, I know. I’m not hundred percent okay. I’m not ready to jump back into the deep end. But I just need to know, do you really believe in second chances? Would you really take me back?”

You nearly went to the ends of the earth for this man. You ran yourself crazy, but you love him. You love him. Luke takes your silence for a moment, but panic hits him in his chest. “I love you, I never stopped loving you.” His hand cups your cheek. The feeling of him against your skin makes your toes curl.

“I believe in second chances,” you sigh, eyes fluttering close. “I’m not a liar. I will take you back.”

His body exhales, Luke closes his eyes for a moment, head dropping towards yours. Foreheads resting against each other, you can’t help but inhale his cologne. He feels all too familiar as you step into him, gently resting a hand against his hip. “Can I kiss you?” he breathes, the smell of mint falling into your nostrils.

You should say no, but your body aches for him. “Yes.”

His lips find yours, softly pressing together. Someone swallows the other’s sigh of relief. One hand curls around his elbow, the other digging into the fabric of his jeans. Luke pulls away, only a tad hovering right above your lips. It would be so easy to kiss him again. He pulls back again, heart racing in his chest. He wonders if it will burst.

“Are you and Mommy getting back together?” Zahra asks. The two of you clear your throat, smoothing clothes.

He leans against the fridge, biting on his lip. He wants too, just not right now. He’s not in the right headspace fully, there’s still so much work for him to do on himself. Luke glances over to you. The shrug pulls your shoulders up for a moment before releasing it. He bends down. “Give Daddy some more time. I’m getting help and soon, maybe Mommy and I can talk about that. But I still love you, you know that right?”

The sparkle in Ra’s eyes dulls. She hates watching him leave. She wants him to stay. “I know,” she answers. She looks up at her father. He looks so much happier, so much better. She likes him like this. “Just keep getting better, Daddy, please?”

Wrapping her in a hug, Luke feels the tears running down his cheek. “I will, baby girl. Daddy promises to keep getting better.”

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

Text

In Sorrow and In Joy- Part 6: Routine

Luke learns the hard way what it means to be a dad and how to keep his family safe and together. Dad!Luke with a South Asian Reader. This is a collaborative experience with A Family of Five.

CW: Over the course of this series, themes of racism and prejudice on the basis of religion are present. Please read or skip as necessary.

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well.

_________________________

You have to leave for a conference. Your classes are cancelled much to the relief of your students. You’ll be gone for a week; this leaves Luke alone with the three children. Nothing he can’t handle it. He wakes the two girls up first, then wakes Zeek. Zahra complains about this. Luke reasons that if she’s going to take so much time in the bathroom, there’s no need to have all of them up.

He fixes them breakfast and as he finishes Noor is the first one down, her dark brown hair clearly unbrushed. He slides her a brush that you keep downstairs for purposes like this. Noor did get the more manageable curl pattern, after Luke, but still, she needs to do something to it. Zeek surfaces next and then finally Zahra comes down the stairs. As they eat, Luke packs the lunches for Noor and Zeek. He slides Zahra some cash to put on her lunch account. “Dad, lunch is not that expensive,” she laughs, looking at the fifty dollar bill.

Luke feels his cheeks heat for a second and then takes out a twenty from his wallet. “Just wanted to make sure,” he returns.

She grins. “I know; I like giving you a hard time.”

Luke shakes his head. “Eat. The bus will be pulling up in twenty minutes.”

The next twenty minutes are a mad dash; Zeek gets syrup on his pants. He has to run up to his room to change. Luke double checks everyone has their backpacks. He has already fed the dog though they were more intrigued by the commotion. Luke is constantly pushing them aside or stepping around them. There are five minutes until the bus by the time the four of them climb out of the house.

Carrying Noor in arm and her backpack on his shoulder, Luke runs behind Zahra and Zeek so they can catch the bus. The other parents watch as they race up the hill. A few dads offer cheers. “I know how it feels, man!” one calls.

“Had a morning like that myself!” another laughs.

Luke nods with a chuckle. They make with a couple minutes to spare. It’s not like he couldn’t drive them, but they prefer taking the bus. It means that Zahra can chat with her friends. Zeek usually trades gaming advice or comics. Noor is pretty quiet but she likes being on the bus because most of the older kids compliment her.

So, on normal days, you and Luke rush to get them ready on the bus. The three of them say it makes them feel normal, riding on the bus. You scheduled to have an early morning lecture, to accommodate the kid’s schedule. That makes you one to normally see them off to the bus. Luke never really sees how mad it can be to get up the last stretch of that hill though.

Luke leaves from the studio early that week. He normally would be getting home right as dinner is finished. He wants to be there before the kids get back, but still get in a solid day of writing and recording. He’s thankful that Zahra stays back most days for her debate team meetings; it works well that Noor also stays back for tutoring for her science class or theater. Zeek catches the normal release bus but hangs out at a friend’s house. He always sends a text to the family group chat that he made it safely. They all know to be back home by 5. This way they can get in about an hour and a half of homework before dinner.

Today feels no different in the morning. Noor’s the first one down for breakfast, hair still not brushed or combed. She huffs when Luke hands her the comb. Zeek comes next- he makes no mess this morning thankfully- and Zahra pulls up the rear. Zeek asks if he can have extra chips in his lunch. Luke agrees.

He can’t say no to stuff like this. He’s the parent that if Noor breaks a vase, he takes the blame and the brunt of your loud questioning. He can’t help it. If Zahra forgets to take down the chicken, he’s the one that tells her to hide upstairs in her room, pretending to be asleep and when you walk into the house noticing a severe lack of chicken defrosting, says, that Zahra mentioned she felt sick earlier and he had her go up for a nap.

You always know when he’s covering. He’s a terrible liar with an unsteady gaze. “Why do you cover for them all the time?” you asked once.

“Because sometimes they need a cover. I know you mean well, but snapping for forgetting to defrost chicken or a replaceable vase isn’t helping them. You don’t want the same rough relationship with your children that you had with your mother.” And he’s right. You don’t want that. So when he covers, you sigh and nod– he’s doing it all from a place of love.

Luke’s flipping through one of your recipe books when he hears the front door creak open. It’s about ten minutes from 5- they usually come in early, but not super early on their curfew. The door slams shut; there’s no stomping or shouting. Luke knows immediately something is wrong. He doesn’t move from his spot in the kitchen. “Hi, Daddy,” Noor says, rounding the corner.

“Hey, baby girl. How was school?”

She shrugs, eying Zahra and Zeek. Zeek doesn’t seem too phased, but Zahra. Zahra’s dark brown eyes are fire. “Ra,” Luke tries gently. He goes with her nickname as a soft approach. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” she snaps, storming up the steps. Luke sighs, watching his oldest daughter. What hurt her? He looks to Noor. She’ll probably know something. She’s sitting at the kitchen counter, chewing on her bottom lip. Her gaze is not focused.

“Noor,” he tries leaning onto the counter across from her.

She looks up to her father, the same light colored eyes looking at each other. “People teased Zahra on the bus today! And Zeek too.”

“Me?” Zeek questions looking up from the math textbook.

Noor nods. “They kept saying that she wasn’t related to me; they called her names. They were saying Zeek and Zahra were ugly and not my brother and sister because they were darker than me.” Her eyes swim in tears.

Luke doesn’t need to ask what names they used. He has a good idea. Luke takes her hands. “Why are kids so cruel?” he whispers.

“They said that you weren’t Zahra and Zeek’s dad. Zahra-” Noor’s thought is interrupted by a hiccup.

Luke springs into action, jogging around the counter. “Hey, hey, hey now. We all know that’s not true.” Sitting on the couch, Luke soothes her. Her face is pressed into his chest. He rubs at her back. “Sssh,” he coos.

“That’s so mean!” Zeek shouts. He doesn’t personally feel offended, but he’s upset that his two sisters are affected. “You two are so pretty and nice.” He walks over, offering his own comfort to Noor.

Luke needs to talk to Zahra. Not now, not with her still worked up. The only thing he can do is give her some time. Right now he’s got to focus on Noor. One spill at a time he thinks to himself. Noor pulls back, face even puffier than usual. Her light tan cheeks pink from the crying. “I know it’s not true. But I wish I could’ve done something to help Zahra,” Noor pants. “I just stood there!”

“Baby girl, sometimes we don’t always do what we wished we could. You were scared. It’s okay to freeze when you’re scared,” Luke reasons. It’s a couple more minutes before Noor regains her composure. Luke fixes her a quick snack and then takes Zeek upstairs.

“I’m okay, Dad,” Zeek offers, sensing a talk coming on.

“For Zahra,” Luke says, pausing outside her door. Zeek nods. Lu knocks. “Ra, please, let me in.”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“You don’t have to talk– just listen.”

A sob cuts through the silence. “Please, Dad, leave me alone,” Zahra finally responds.

Luke descends back downstairs, giving the oldest her wishes. He cooks dinner, not as good as yours, but it’s fine. Zeek goes to the closed door and knocks. “Dinner’s ready.” He leaves, not listening to see if she rustles.

Luke finishes plating Noor’s food when Zahra slides into her spot. Her face is puffy, eyes swollen and red. Everyone turns to him, to watch his lead. “Extra cornbread?” Lu asks. It’s Harlowe’s recipe she gave you years ago. He figured today was a good day to break out the comfort food.

She nods, muttering, “Please?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Dinner is tense. Silence is only cut by the scrape of forks against the ceramic plates. There’s small comments, a compliment on the cornbread. A polite ask for a refill on their drink. But the tension sits like fog, thick and heavy. Noor and Zeek finish fast and he excuses them. They take their plates to the kitchen. Luke and Zahra sit adjacent to each other. She runs her fork over the leftover peas.

“They called me names,” Zahra starts. “That’s not even the worst thing. They do that all the time. It’s when they started attacking Zeek and Noor that I lost it. We are a family and I wish people stopped looking at me differently. I know I’m the darkest one, but like–”

Luke can see more tears forming. “I know.”

“Why don’t I look more like Noor? Why don’t I look like you? Why do I look so much like this?” she gestures to her arm- her skin color.

Luke pulls her attention up from the plate. “Your mom will kill me for saying this. But here’s the truth; I wished you and Zeek looked more like me. It killed me that none of my children looked like me. Noor was only a baby and she highly resembled your mom at first. I knew the second you were born that you were my world and so beautiful. But the rest of the world wouldn’t be so nice. Baby, I can’t change your genetics. I can’t change the way you look. But wishing you were lighter isn’t going to make it better.”

Zahra sighs, thinking back to the time Noor cried over whether or not she was Muslim enough because she was so much lighter. “Life sucks.”

“I know it’s not easy. I know it won’t be easy for you. I am so sorry it’s not easy.”

“Did you ever think about this before having us?”

Luke shakes his head. “Sadly, I didn’t think it would this bad. Your mom and I had conversations; she told me that I wouldn’t see the true extent of how ugly this world could be until it affected my own children. And she was right.”

“When is she not?” Zahra scoffs. Luke wipes at the two tears that drop down her slender cheeks. Noor took her round face from you. Both Zahra and Zeek got more slender faces after Luke.

“I love you. I will always love you. I know the world is cruel. But there is so much more love out there. Those kids at school are bullies. They don’t care about you–nothing they say about you should hold any value to you.”

“That’s so much easier to say, Dad. You’re white. Always have been, always will be. I will always be seen differently than you!”

“You’re right. I don’t know your pain. I can’t fathom it. But please don’t shut me out. Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Can you hand me more cornbread? Let’s start there.”

Luke slides the pan over to her. “Of course, Ra.”

As Zahra collects her next slice, she looks up to Luke. “Thanks for listening.”

He nods. “Anytime, sweetie.”

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

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In Sorrow and In Joy- Part 8: To Be Grounded

Luke learns the hard way what it means to be a dad and how to keep his family safe and together. Dad!Luke with a South Asian Reader. This is a collaborative experience with A Family of Five.

CW: Over the course of this series, themes of racism and prejudice on the basis of religion are present. Please read or skip as necessary.

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Luke’s sure prayer is still going on, so he moves about the kitchen as quietly as he can. But that assumption is proven wrong when he hears Zahra’s cry from upstairs. “I have nothing to wear!” He knows for a fact her closet is packed to the hilt with clothes. But that’s not what she wants to hear. So he pauses in the kitchen, waiting for another huff to come. He knows it will. There’s some thuds from above him, sounds like stomping. Please, he begs silently, please just let today go well. Gripping the counter, Luke inhales for three seconds and exhales for five. That’s what his therapist warned him to do when he feels overwhelmed again.

He passed overwhelmed a couple weeks. Right now he’s hanging on by threads. Though he’s positive those threads are gone too now, especially after last night. Last night, he fucked up. He knows he did. He slipped out of bed, snuck into the kitchen, grabbed whatever bottle he got his hands on and sat in the backyard, drinking right from the bottle. It felt good. He felt guilty too, but there was just an ounce of relief behind the guilt. Just enough for him to go for one more swig, when he knew he should’ve stopped. He feels terrible now, thinking about it agan. He feels even more like garbage because he keeps eying the stash.

The stash only exists under the pretense that it’s there for company and company only. And for a while, that’s exactly what it was. Just for company. But now, it’s becoming his solace again. The thing that screws his head, or even unscrews it, when he’s overwhelmed so he doesn’t have to feel again. He has no clue how Calum does it, with three kids. Granted, Calum was always more level headed than he. But still Luke just can’t some days. He tries hard to be there for everything, he tries to understand the nuisance by being a teenager. He remembers what it feels like to have no control over your life. He knows, all too intimately, what it feels like to be someone else’s puppet.

Luke slowly opens his eyes as he hears the soft click of dress shoes on the floor. Zeek rounds the corner, flashing a small smile to his father. “Upstairs is a warzone,” he laughs. “Shoes are flying.”

“It sounds like it,” Luke agrees. He pushes away from the counter, necklace hitting his chest and he waves Zeek over to the stove. “This look right?” he asks, waving over to the dish now simmering.

Zeek nods. “Dad, you’re actually getting better at the whole cooking then.”

Luke’s chest bubbles with laughter. He was not the greatest cook, still isn’t the greatest. But he’s definitely gotten better. “Alright, smart alec,” he teases, ruffling the close crop of Zeek’s hair. Zeek huffs at his father’s antics.

Noor’s the next one to survive the storm, covering the back of her head with her arms. “It’s dangerous up there,” she grins, finally standing to her full height. She pulls at the sleeves of her kurta. It’s similar to the grey one with a green pattern in your possession. Her’s is a light pink with gold accents around the neck and buttons. Noor took once glance to the one in your possession and fell in love with in it. So she begged her grandmother on the next adventure overseas to grab her one.

Luke nods at her comment. He can only imagine the chaos happening up there. He doesn’t mean to leave all the messes to you. But he just can’t handle it right at this moment. He’s barely holding on anymore. He’s probably not holding onto anything anymore. But he can’t give up just yet. So he grabs the oven mitts and moves all the food to the table and kitchen island buffet style.

After a few more minutes, the periodic stomps stop and the rhythmic sound of feet on stairs echoes. He knows it’s Zahra gate. She’s forgone anything too fancy, but still fancy enough in a blouse and billowy pant combination. “She’s arrived,” Luke teases. Ra huffs a little at Luke’s comment. She knows it’s just the band coming over, it’s nothing. But it’s one of the few things that Zahra does that makes her feel wholly herself. The day is hers. Well not really hers, but it puts her in the center. She has no one teasing her, no one prodding her about it. She can exist with no push back.

You follow close behind Zahra, praying that the rest of the day goes without any more issues. With the kids focused on the food, you duck into the back room and grab the gifts. They’re all settled down, eager to receive what they know is behind your back in bags and envelopes. You hands the kids their gifts first, “Eid Mubarak,” falling off in rushed mumbles from their lips. You and Luke return the phrase. Zahra grins, peeping at the green in her hands.

Luke hands his them his gifts. It’s always something extra. Noor immediately places the teardrop earrings on after cracking opening the box. Luke helps Zahra with the necklace and Zeek hugs you over the engraved pen. He’s always wanted a fancier pen to write and sign things his prints with, tired of using his drawing pens. The kids smile at you and Luke before all three rush back up stairs.

“Do you know what’s happening?” You ask Luke.

He shakes his head, asking you with his eyes if you know. You shake your head no, but grin as you hand over the gift for him. He always gives the same reaction, a head shake no, and a half step back. “You didn’t have.” You would think after nearly 15 years of marriage, he’d be used to this. But every year, it’s the same deal.

You roll your eyes. “You are family.”

Luke’s never sure how to handle that. He knows he’s family. But he’s not family like this, this isn’t his holiday. He wasn’t raised on this. He doesn’t want to intrude. “Sweetheart, I’m being serious. Every year you do this.”

You huff a laugh. “And yet, every year you still refuse me.” Shaking the bag at him, you urge him to take the gift. He’s not sure what’s inside, the bag’s big, but not heavy. Cracking it open, he notices the record. He looks to you, eyes widened, jaw dropped.

“How did you--What in the word?”

You just grin. The Rolling Stones record was not easy to come by. But you don’t let on to that. There’s no need. He pulls the record completely from the bag, the neon orange, yellow and red finally exposed. He grins, clutching it to his chest for a second, before flipping over to the back. “God, how long did this take to get?”

“Don’t worry about that. But you like it, right?”

“Babe, I love it,” he says softly, stepping into you. He places the record onto the counter before wrapping you up into a hug. Soft kisses line up around your forehead. The action reiterates his happiness with the gift. But you notice the hug’s not as tight as it usually is. You’re losing him. But you should you bring it up right now. You squeeze him just a little tighter for a beat and then pull away.

The kids return. Noor holding a box and Zeek with a bag. He hands you the bag, watching your reaction. It’s just a book, one you mentioned in passing a couple weeks ago. The note is signed by all three kids. Luke feels his chest constrict as the sight of the necklace in his box. It’s a simple silver chain with a small pendant. On it there’s a circular design that just looks like an amalgamation of swirls. But Zeek talks about how there’s two different Z’s and an N inside the design to stand for the three of them, with your initial made up in the middle. “Guys, I love it. You three at the best thing to ever happen to me,” he says quietly hugging them.

“Besides the band right?” Zeek teases.

“He means before the band,” Noor corrects, lightly slapping at Zeek’s arm.

Zeek rolls his eyes, but laughs. “Forgive me.”

There’s a twinge of disappointment when you realize Luke hasn’t given you anything. He’s always had something at this time. You woke in the morning and expected Luke to shove it into your hands almost immediately. But it didn’t happen, never one to try to make too big a scene you figured to wait. But here you are, waiting, still.

“We waited to get you something else, Mum. But we were stomped,” Zahra confesses, hugging your side briefly.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the dreading feeling of disappointment from Luke’s lack of a gift. A smile lifts your lips. “I love it. I don’t need much.”

She nods. “But still, sometimes we want to spoil you.” You kiss the top of her head, wrapping an arm around her. As the kids settle down in the living until the rest of the boys and their families arrive, Luke pulls you into the kitchen. “I didn’t forget about you,” he whispers, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

You only nod. He’s saying that but you notice how his eyes keep leaving your face. What’s catching his attention so much? “You okay?” you ask, forcing his attention back to you.

He’s not okay. He’s not. Luke pushes the glasses up on his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know Michael’s bringing your gift. I didn’t forget. I swear to it.”

You nod. Why Michael has your gift is beyond you. But Luke’s not looking you directly in the eye, he keeps fidgeting with fingers. He’s slipping. The album’s taking longer than they originally thought, also they’re slowing down. Now with two of the four of them will fully established families. Michael’s on the verge of a family. He and his wife talk about having kids, but aren’t sure. Ashton’s settled down. But they’re antsy, they need an edge. They feel like they’ve lost it. But it can’t just be the record that’s getting to him.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you state. “Whatever’s going on, tell me.”

He shakes his head. Was he that bad already? “I’m okay.”

“Find me when you feel like telling the truth.” You exit the kitchen. Normally, you aren’t this direct, this confrontational. But you refuse to watch Luke spiral again. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, you just want him to be honest, to stop bottling things up.

Luke watches the spot you were occupying for a beat too long. His body freezes and his chest squeezes. He’s all too reminded of the day you actually moved out of the house. Harlowe had helped you move your things. She carried Zahra on her hip and you and Luke stood on the porch. He couldn’t beg you not to leave. He begged you instead to remember that promise of a second chance. To let him get himself together. But it still hurt, still made him feel like someone had replaced his air with fire watching you walk down those steps and to your car. It still made him cry for an hour on his front porch when your car backed out first, Harlowe in the U-haul behind you.

Oh he is not going through that again. But he can’t spill his guts right now. He clears his throat and steps out of the kitchen, knowing your gaze is locked dead on him. The doorbell sounds and Luke walks over to answer it. Michael grins at him, the small holding cage in his hands. “Babe,” Luke calls, waving Michael inside.

You immediately notice the small kitten, clawing at the cage. A black persian cat. You know the breed all to well. Luke unlatches the door. He reaches inside and carefully collects the cat into his arms. “You’re not even a cat person,” you whisper.

He crosses the hallway to you. “But you are.” Silently, he offers to small ball of fur to you. “He doesn’t have a name yet.”

Noor walks over, gently petting the cat in your arms on the head. “So we might’ve known about the cat. Do you know how hard it was to keep that a secret?”

“He’s very sweet. He climbed up my arm. I have video,” Michael laughs, pulling out his phone. You’re too busy with the kitten in your arms. His smoked gray almost black fur. The melancholy gaze behind bright blue eyes. For a moment, you are a kid again. You have no worries, no traveling from country to country. There’s no harm, no death, no pain. His fur is soft and thick between your fingers. He studies you intently for a moment, before bringing his gaze around the room.

“He’s absolutely the cutest thing.” The awe is evident in your voice, your voice thick and vision blurring just a hair.

“I told you, I didn’t forget.” Luke scratches the top of the kitten’s head. As you gaze up at him, he thinks for a moment, he’s back on track. It took him weeks to pick out the right cat. He even brought the kids to the shelter several times. It did not take much to get Michael in on housing the kitten until the holiday. Michael, after fostering his first kitten, started undertaking some furry friends into his care more often.

“You don’t like cats,” you huff. You want to keep it together. But the tears are already rolling.

Luke shrugs. “He’s cute. I miss having a furry friend in the house.” You two had Petunia until her end. Which was a hard hit. But sometimes the only way out is through. “It’s not a dog, but he’s still company.”

The kitten peers over your arms, a clear indication that they want to get down, so you gently lower to the ground and watch him inspect the foyer and kitchen. “What are you gonna name him?”

“Oh shit,” you huff. “I-I don’t know.”

Noor gently taps your arm, a warning glare for the curse word. But she grins. “I say Floyd. Because you like Pinky Floyd. But Zeek said Smoke. It sounded dumb to me. But I didn’t say it.”

“I can hear you!” Zeek shouts.

“Love you!” she returns, ducking behind Luke. Zeek peers around the corner and rolls his eyes. She always uses Luke as a shield. But it’s okay, he’s going to get her back. Luke places a hand on her back, laughing. This is what he missed. He misses his kids needing him. Zahra spends most of her time in her room or with her friends. Zeek has always been reserved. He’s close, but he’s not affectionate all the time. Noor at first and to this day is still very close to Luke, but lately instead of running to him for help she calls you more often. If she’s out shopping and can’t choose between a top, she turns to you now. Luke feels like he’s not needed anymore. His whole recovery hinged on his family needing him.

Luke recognizes that he had to get better for himself too. He couldn’t keep down that path, but it was much easier to tell himself it was for the benefit of someone else too. It felt more urgent that way. And now that urgency was leaving him. He had been feeling it for weeks. Just lacked the right way to bring it up to anyone. As the house fills up with Ashton and his partner, followed by Calum and Harlowe and their crew, Luke finds himself able to forget the urge in the pit of his stomach. He’s able to gaze at the stash and not long for it.

“You cannot bring Floyd to the table,” Luke smiles, watching Noor with the cat in her lap.

“Please?” she pouts.

A sigh escapes his lips but he nods. He can’t say no to her. She beams up at him, collecting the kitten and rushing to the table. She throws her free arm around Luke’s waist. “Love you, Dad.”

A few tears prick behind Luke’s eyes. He rubs her back for a moment. “Love you too. Now c’mon, let’s eat.”

Luke’s been on the deck for a while. After the boys left and the kitchen was scrubbed down, Luke slipped out of the house. You had only noticed as the backdoor slipped close. You wanted to walk out after him, but you know better. If he’s not willing to talk, you can’t force him. The kids settle down for a movie after a twenty minute argument of who gets to decide. Floyd’s already asleep in your lap. Another reason for your lack of escape to the backyard. But as the backdoor cracks open and Luke leans into the house, you know you’ll have to move now.

You slide Floyd into Noor’s lap, the closest one to you. Normally this sight would make Luke feel at peace. Normally he’s slide in next to you and tussle Zeek’s hair. He’d do something, but all he can muster right now is the slight nod to the outdoors. You slip through the small crack in the door, brushing up against Luke’s chest in the process. He closes the door behind you. The sky is clear and still. You’d normally ask, pry into what’s going on. But you don’t have to, as soon as the glass shuts, Luke grabs your hand.

“I’m not okay,” he starts. “I feel useless again. I know I was doing so well. The whole point of me getting better was to be here for my family. And I feel like I’m fading.”

“Why? Why do you feel like your fading”

“The kids don’t need me like before.”

“They grow up. Things change. It’s an unfortunate truth.”

“I just--I’m not equipped for it. It feels like it came without a warning.”

“Just like you weren’t equipped for fatherhood. No one can really fix that. I can’t snap my fingers and make things better.”

He sighs, looking out to the night. “I know.”

“Tell me what I can do. What do you need?”

Luke runs a hand over his face. He needs help, he needs to be grounded again. “Come with me to my next appointment. I-I don’t know what I need. I just know I need help.”

Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your head to his chest. “I can do that.”

When shouts start up from the inside of the house, the all too distinct sound of the kids shouting at each other, Luke tenses. It’s too much, his feet are planted to the ground. He needs to be grounded. He has to keep it together. He can’t bare the thought of be separated again from his family. You rub his back. You know you’ll have to do some more heavy lifting in the house. “We’re getting rid of the alcohol too.”

He nods, face buried in your hair. He’s fine with that. He’d prefer it actually. He just doesn’t trust himself to do it. No one said being a parent would be easy, but Luke never thought it’d be this hard for him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I don’t have it together.”

“No one does. It’s okay to not have it together.”

“I’m sorry to do this on Eid. I really couldn’t have picked a worst time even if I tried.”

You laugh, softly, shoulders shaking just a tad. “Just as long as the kids got their gifts, we’re fine.”

“I’ll try to keep it together for the next two days.”

“If you need a breather, just let me know.” They’re kids aren’t particularly known for being the quietest bunch. It’s nothing but love, but it’s a well known fact.

Luke lifts his head after kissing the crown of your head. “Thank you.”

You could say, ‘You’re welcome.’ You could tell him it’s your responsibility to care about his mental health. You could tell him a lot things. But the truth of the matter is that you will always care, you will always be there. “I love you,” you return. The truth of the matter is that even though it’s rocky you’re still by his side. That even though your heart breaks to see the man you love in such anguish, you are not going to give up on him.

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