#but the night before last & last night i got a sleeve of saltines each--these were short sleeves of like 10-15

[rosesradio]

.

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 27 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello my loves! Just a reminder that this chapter is posting from the queue as I am on vacation--- I will be checking in periodically but less active than usual and not updating the tag list! Hope y’all enjoy this one :)

Read previous chapters of this fic here! 

contains: food mention, hangover mention, discussion of parenting, canon-typical mentions of violence

wordcount: 2k

When you woke up the next morning, you’re somewhere between completely refreshed and wickedly hungover. You need a bacon egg and cheese on an everything bagel and a big cup of coffee stat if you are going to get anything at all done today. Aaron, of course, must have gotten up hours ago, and has long past left the bedroom by the time you rise at nearly 11. When you roll to get out of  bed, you notice that he’s left you advil, water, and a sleeve of saltines just in case you were feeling nauseous. You smiled, sitting up gingerly to sip at the water and take the pills. Once you were sure your stomach was fine, you slid out of bed and found Jack and Aaron in the kitchen, cooking up bacon and frying eggs while The Beatles played in the background. The boys hadn’t noticed you yet, and you decided not to call attention to yourself-- taking the moment to commit this mental image to memory, of Jack on his father’s hip, Aaron rocking back and forth as he pushed scrambled eggs around a frying pan, smiling and giggling and not thinking about work or serial killers or the next time he’d be pulled away.

When the song fades out, Aaron looks up, seeing you leaning against the doorway to the hall. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling?” He asks, looking you up and down for signs of a hangover. 

“I’m okay. I’ll be better after breakfast,” you tell him. “And a big hug from my favorite Hotchner!” You add, crossing the kitchen and taking Jack from his father, shooting Aaron a knowing glance that said “I’m pretty sure physical therapy didn’t clear you for that. Especially not after last night.” 

“I cracked the eggs. There’s no shells in them, Mom.” Jack says, and the world stops. He doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s slipped up, but Aaron and you both freeze, whipping your heads to look at each other with equally bewildered glances. 

“I’m sure you did a great job, buddy!” You tell Jack, after a moment that feels like hours, not wanting to ignore him but not quite sure how to address what had happened, and Aaron wasn’t being much help. 

“Breakfast is ready,” Aaron says, handing you exactly what you needed-- a bacon and egg sandwich, along with a hashbrown, some fruit, and a big cup of coffee. 

“You might be the perfect man.” You tell him gratefully, and he smirks at you as the three of you sit down at the table and eat.  

You and Aaron make casual conversation for a little while before Jack poses a question. “Dad, can we take my kite out today?” Jack asks as he spears a sausage link on his fork. 

“It’s not really windy enough to fly a kite today, buddy, but we can go for a bike ride or play some soccer if you want,” Aaron responds before taking a sip of coffee. 

“And we’ll all go?” Jack asks, looking across the table at you. 

“Of course,” you tell him. “We’ll all go to the park with you.” 

“Okay. Can I be excused?” He asks, and Aaron nods. 

“Go ahead, just make sure you wash your hands and your face. You’ve got syrup everywhere,” He chuckles, and Jack scoots out his chair and leaves the table. 

As soon as Jack is out of eyesight, you speak up. “So, are we gonna talk about that, or what?” You say in a hushed tone, not wanting Jack to overhear. 

“I didn’t tell him to do that,” Aaron says. 

“Neither did I,” you assure him. 

“Are you upset?” Aaron asks, a furrow in his brow that just about broke your heart. Silly, silly man. 

“No, of course not. Not if you aren’t.” You assure him. 

“I just… he can’t forget Haley. He’s all that is left of her.” Aaron says with a deep sigh, and your eyes well up in tears. 

“No, Aaron, he hasn’t and he won’t. We won’t let him.” You say, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “And if you don’t want him to call me Mom, I understand.” 

“That’s not it. It’s just… bringing a lot up for me, is all.” He says. 

“That’s normal, honey. You should think about it for a while, maybe talk about it just with him. No matter what you decide, you’re not going to disappoint me or him. But it’s okay to need some time with this.” You say, standing up to wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to the junction of his shoulder and his neck. 

“Thank you, for understanding me and for respecting her.” he tells you, raising one hand to cover yours where they met over his heart, craning his neck to leave a kiss on your wrist. 

“Baby, have you seen my phone?” You asked, realizing that you haven’t checked it all morning. 

“It’s charging next to mine on the bedside table. You were having a little trouble with the charger when we got in last night,” he chuckles at the memory of your drunken antics from the night before. 

You go into the other room to grab your phones, noticing that you have two missed calls from Penelope--- you only just missed her. You dial her back as you head back towards the kitchen to help Aaron clean up. 

“Where are you right now?” Garcia asks you as soon as the line connects, and your face twists up in confusion as you put your plate in the dishwasher. 

“I’m at Aaron’s place, where are you?” You ask, not understanding her line of questioning. 

“Is Jack in the room with you?” 

“Garcia, what’s going on?”  You ask, starting to get nervous. Aaron turns to face you, sensing your anxiety and you place a hand on his forearm for support. 

“Last night, when we were all at the bar, a girl was kidnapped, who based on the description, looks a hell of a lot like you. A neighbor saw the guy, and based on the he neighbor’s description--

“It looks like Josh,” you finished Garcia’s sentence, and you felt Aaron tense under your fingers. He puts his palm out, silently asking for your phone, and you pass it to him without even telling Garcia that you were putting him on. 

You were scared, terrified even, but you knew that the best thing you could do right then was be a profiler. You left Aaron to settle the details, and went into his bedroom to find something work-appropriate to wear. By the time you came back out, Aaron was off the phone. 

“I called the rest of the team in, they’re going to meet us at the office. We’re going to get this loser, and we’re going to get him today,” Aaron lets out, and you nod.

“I’ll take Jack over to Jess’s,” you say, turning back towards Jack’s room, and he stopped you. 

“No. You stay with me. Jess is on her way,” Aaron says, and she knocks at the door at the next moment. “I just told her that we got called in,” he tells you as he answers the door. 

“Morning, guys,” she says as she steps in, entirely too chipper for the terror that’s rolling through your stomach in waves. “Duty calls, right?” She smiles at you, and you use all the power you have to muster a smile back. 

“Yeah, even at the worst times,” you’re impressed that you strung that many words together. 

“Any idea when you’ll be back?” She asks, and you shake your head. 

“We’ve really got to go,” Aaron says, coming back into the room with Jack, who gives you and his father both hugs before you have to leave. You squeeze him extra tight before Aaron ushers you out of the apartment and towards the car. 

“I am not going to let anything happen to you.” Aaron tells you after a few moments of tense, silent driving. 

“I know,” you say noncommittally, and it’s back to silence. 

“You can’t go in the field.” You both say after a moment. 

“Darling, you have to understand--” 

“No, Aaron, it’s not even up for debate. You’re out because of your leg, and JJ is pregnant. The team needs me, and I can’t sit this one out because either one of us is emotional about it,” You argue, and Aaron heaves a sigh. 

“I wish Elle were here. Josh wouldn’t even still be a problem.” Aaron grumbles out, and despite yourself, you burst out laughing. Aaron’s shocked at first by your reaction, but after a moment, he lets out a laugh, too. 

“Aaron, that’s awful. You were upset with Elle for months, even after she left. You’re better than that.” You say, still smiling even though it really wasn’t funny at all. 

“Yeah, well, when you hobbled out to my car with a black eye, I think I began to understand Elle a little bit better than I did at the time.” Aaron tells you. 

You think of the girl Josh has taken now-- being punished only for the sin of resembling you. No doubt she had her own black eye to match yours, plus god only knows what else at this point, nearly twelve hours after being taken. You swallowed thickly. After a moment, you speak up again.

“You knew that this was going to happen, didn’t you?” You ask quietly-- it’s a genuine question, not an accusation, but it still breaks Aaron’s heart. “That’s why you weren’t excited or relieved like I was when he got arrested.”

“I knew it was a possibility,” he confirms. “I didn’t want to say anything to you, because there was no way to know-- and I didn’t want you to have to keep living in fear,” he explains.

 “I’m gonna get this son of a bitch,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Aaron. 

The team is already waiting for the two of you in the roundtable room while you arrive, although there’s really no need to brief, so you all launch into a profile while Garcia digs for more information. 

“What do we know about the unsub?” Aaron asks the team.

“He’s a power-seeker. He uses physical force as a method of coercion.” Morgan says, and Reid scribbles his statement onto a whiteboard. 

“He doesn’t react well when challenged--- his demeanor completely changed when he came here and Hotch went after him.” Emily adds. 

“True, but he had no problem going toe-to-toe with Morgan.” JJ contradicts. 

“Based on the message he left with the flowers, he’s displaying early indicators of stalking behavior. If that’s escalated far enough, it’s possible that Josh might really believe that the woman that he’s taken is Y/N.” Spencer says, and you nod. For her sake, you hoped not. He had a hell of a lot of pent up anger towards you, and you didn’t want this poor girl to take the brunt of it. 

“What’s her name?” You asked, quietly, and with everyone talking over you, you almost think no one hears you, until Aaron leans in a little closer. 

“What’s that, darling?” He asks. 

“What’s her name?” You say again, and his brow furrows in confusion. 

“Who’s name?”

“The girl who’s taking the beating with my name on it right now,” you spit out, and the rest of the team stops talking over you. “The least I can do is learn her name and go talk to her parents.” You say, packing your stuff up.

“Her name is Anna Reardon. We’ll send the address to your phone,” Emily tells you, and you turn on your heel and walk out. 

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @rousethemouse

[fxcking-anon]

hi! request, spencer xfem!reader? reader works at the bau but spencer isn’t there (mutual crush or beginning of relationship) so she swings by his apartment to see he has a stomach flue so she helps and takes care of him? fluff?

Chicken Soup

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: None :)

Word Count: 1,925

A/N: I’m so so very sorry for how long this took. I ruptured my appendix right after I got this request then started classes again and all of a sudden it was October! But it’s done now and we are on the road to being on top of our shit again! Woo! (I may or may not have posted this during math class too oops)

----------

Spencer had given you a key to his apartment a few months ago. After Penelope was shot, you really struggled being alone in your apartment. So, you found yourself knocking on Spencer’s door after a long case. More often than not, you stayed the night. Over time, you’d brought a few things to keep there for when you did sleep over. While Spencer was no Derek Morgan, protector-of-all, kicking-doors-in-and-taking-names, he knew how to distract you from the darkness you both saw on a daily basis. And on the worst nights, he held you after your nightmares.

You had tried to return the key once you could finally be alone again. Spencer refused, insisting you were welcome to come and go as you pleased. So you did, often bearing gifts as you walked through the door. Sometimes coffee, a home cooked meal, or maybe a movie. 

The two of you had always been close. You had a habit of befriending the misfits and bringing them out of their shells. It also helped that people seemed to find you easy to talk to. You can’t name how many times an acquaintance has spilled their soul to you just because you “seem really approachable”. 

And yet, after months of spending most of your days off together and you having a key to his apartment, it took nearly the entire BAU team, excluding Hotch, holding an intervention of sorts to force you two to address the fact that you clearly liked each other and what you were currently doing, was dating.

That led to an awkward evening back at his apartment, trying to talk things through. You knew Spencer didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with relationships and honestly, you didn’t have a lot of experience with healthy ones. After an excruciating half hour of awkward silence and “well, what do you think?” back and forth, Spencer just took your face in his hands and kissed you. 

You’d been officially together since then. Over the past few weeks, the two of you had established a little routine at work. He usually beat you there on nights you didn’t stay with him. He’d grab you both coffee and leave yours at your desk with a little drawing on a sticky note. The little creatures he drew were odd looking and sometimes a bit scary, but you still found yourself storing the sticky notes away in one of the drawers in your desk. 

Today, you were running late after an accident on the freeway put you much further behind schedule than you would’ve liked. As you stepped out of the elevator on the sixth floor, you scanned the room for his mop of curly hair, coming up empty.

“Spence isn’t with you?” JJ asked, looking concerned as she hoisted the case files she was carrying higher into her arms. 

“No, I stayed home last night because I had to finish some laundry I was putting off. Is he not here?” you tried to ignore the surge of panic that began to flow through you. While it was highly unlikely anything had happened to him, he’d been held captive before. In your line of work, it wasn’t completely off the table. You and JJ locked eyes, slight worry laced in both of your eyes. 

“Hotch hasn’t heard from him, I just figured you had,” she said. 

“No, I’ll call him now.”

You beelined for the empty conference room before calling your boyfriend. “Y/N?” Spencer croaked, picking up on the fourth ring. 

You quickly realized he was sick. After hanging up and reassuring Spencer you’d be there as fast as you could, ignoring his protests that you need to be at work, you found yourself in Hotch’s office.

“Look, we don’t have a case and if we get one, I can be back here, ready to go in twenty minutes flat. It’s just, he doesn’t take care of himself as it is and he’s likely downplaying how sick he really is-” you started off, rambling off excuses.

“Y/L/N,” Hotch said, cutting you off. “It’s fine. Just take your paperwork with you. I’ll have Garcia call you if we get a case, okay?”

“Thank you so much, Sir,” you said, heading back to your desk to grab your things. You didn’t need to take the day off to go take care of your sick boyfriend. However, your boyfriend was rarely sick. In the time that you’ve known him, you’d never seen him sick. Ever. You attributed it to his heightened awareness of the spread of germs and his commitment to handwashing. 

----------

On your way back to Spencer’s apartment, you made a quick pit stop at the local grocery store, picking up a few ingredients for your normal go to comfort foods. 

You set the bags down when you reached his apartment door, fishing your key out of your bag. You opened the door to find a full sink and no sign of Spencer. You set the groceries on the counter before peeking into his bedroom. 

Spencer was dead asleep, curled into the fetal position under his comforter and an additional three throw blankets. His hair was damp and matted on his forehead. There was a tense look on his sleeping face, brows furrowed and frowning. You stepped into the room, moving to situate yourself next to him on the bed. Gently, you brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. “Y/N?” Spencer mumbled out, not yet opening his eyes. You leaned down to place a soft peck on his forehead, causing him to open his eyes. “I told you not to come,” he said sleepily, trying his best to sound stern. 

“As if I wouldn’t. How are you feeling, baby?” you asked, voice still hushed. 

“I have a fever. It’s probably the flu. Which means you’re going to get sick too,” he started, propping himself up on his elbows and pulling himself out of your gentle grasp.

You rolled your eyes before climbing all the way onto the bed and guiding him to rest back on your chest. “If I can handle kicking ass on a daily basis, I can handle a measly little cold. Now shut up and let me take care of you.”

Spencer huffed under his breath before settling his head on your chest, right over your heart. You could feel him relax as he listened to the steady pace of your heartbeat, drifting off to a more peaceful sleep. His eyebrows relaxed as you stroked his hair. 

----------

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep when you woke up, checking Spencer’s bedside clock to see it had only been about two hours. Instinctively, you checked your phone, making sure you hadn’t missed any calls from Hotch. By some miracle, you had no new notifications. Maybe just this once, the universe would give you a day to take care of your sick boyfriend without having to race off to play hero. 

Spencer was fast asleep, his breathing even and slow. You smiled to yourself before slipping out of his bed and resting his hand back against the pillows. You could lay there all day as he slept, but you knew you needed to start cooking now so he’d have something to eat when he finally emerged from his slumber. 

Your mother had always made homemade soup when you were sick. It was cheesy as hell, but it was what you knew. So you got to work cutting up the vegetables you brought from the store as you popped the chicken in the over. You hummed to yourself as you cooked, dancing around aimlessly and singing into the butcher knife in your hand. 

“Should I be concerned that you use knives as microphones?” Spencer asked, shuffling from his room, wrapped in a blanket. You froze, striking an Elvis pose with your knife as you smiled at him. His voice was less groggy now and he seemed to be a little more awake.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” you imitated Elvis, giggling a bit as you returned to chopping vegetables. “And listen, a girl has to make do with whatever makeshift mic she can find,” you teased, “Are you hungry?”

Spencer scrunched his face just enough for you to sense he still didn’t have an appetite. Regardless, he needed to eat. “I don’t need to be a genius to tell you how important it is that you get nutrients into your body-”

“Yeah, yeah” he grumbled, making his way to a cabinet behind you. He grabbed a sleeve of saltines from the middle shelf before hoisting himself onto the counter next to where you were slicing. “What are you making? It smells good.”

“Chicken soup,”

He hummed in acknowledgement, placing a cracker in his mouth. You smiled to yourself as the two of you sat in silence, you cutting up some celery and him munching on a cracker. You didn’t often get much domestic time together. With your work schedules, you didn’t have a lot of free time to begin with. Mostly, you’d do something quiet and low energy. It was hard to remember the last time you got to just be in each other’s presence while you did normal people things.

“What are you smiling around?” Spencer asked, looking at you inquisitively. 

You looked up at him, breaking into a bigger smile. “It’s nice, getting to just be with you on a weekday, making lunch. I’d rather you weren’t sick, of course, but we haven’t had a day off in forever.”

He grinned back at you, taking a moment to brush a strand of hair that escaped your bun behind your ear. “I love you,” he said plainly, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

You’d both said I love you before, but you still felt the same butterflies as the first time he said it. You could’ve stayed like that for the rest of time, reveling in his gaze. However, the oven beeped, letting you know the chicken was done. 

“I have to get that,” you whispered out, hating to remove your face from his light touch. 

You pulled the chicken from the oven before shooing Spencer out of the kitchen and back into bed, convincing him to get some more rest as you finished the soup.

----------

As you lounged on the sofa with Spencer’s head in your lap later that evening, it dawned on you that Hotch never texted. You actually got a real day off. You stroked Spencer’s hair softly, twirling some of his little curls between your fingers. “What’s that song?” Spencer asked, shifting to look up at you. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, clearly confused. “You’ve been humming something, I don’t recognize it,” he said.

You stopped for a moment, realizing it was the same song your mom used to sing you when you were sick. “I’m not actually sure what it’s called,” you admitted, “My mom used to sing it to me when I was sick. I don’t remember the words anymore, just the melody.”

Spencer nodded in agreement, still staring up at you. 

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing, I just love you, that’s all.”

“I love you more.”

He leaned up to give you a quick kiss, his lips far less chapped after you spent the day pumping him full of liquids and hot soup. He laid back on your lap, tuning back into the silly cartoon on the television screen. Your hands found their way back into his hair again, sighing contently.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Projectiles

You absolutely terrorize your dad, Sebastian, and you don’t feel bad about it at all.

-

           “Why are you home so early?” Your dad was about to eat a sandwich and raised it to his lips before stopping, realizing that it was barely noon and you were home already.  He put the sandwich down an looked at you like you had two heads.

           “Nurse told me I could go home,” you shrugged. You held a bag from the drugstore down the street, backpack on your back.

           “And why?” You looked at him, holding the bag up. “Oh.” You could tell he didn’t fully get it, but you didn’t need to say anything else. He was slow, but he could figure it out eventually.

           “Yep. I’m going to take some pain pills.” You walked up the stairs to your room and set up your cave for the afternoon. You must have gone through half a season of Schitt’s Creek before you dared to even went downstairs to get your backpack to start doing homework. Your dad was putting his jacket on, obviously about to leave.

           “You want anything specific for dinner?” He asked you, looking you up and down. You looked like a wreck, but your entire body hurt so badly that you just didn’t care.

           “Death,” you responded dryly, walking past him to go to the kitchen. You grabbed a box of cheese-its, not even that you really wanted them. You just wanted food in general.

           “Okay,” your dad said quietly, taken aback at your statement. “Well, text me if you need anything. I won’t be late.” He walked out to go to his meeting, leaving you all alone. You needed a dog, you thought. You really needed a dog. So you scrolled through your phone and spammed your dad with pictures of puppies in the greater Manhattan area, all of which he said no to. You knew exactly why you were crying over pictures of pitbull mixes, but that didn’t make it any easier.

           You thought you were going to throw up when you smelled the smell of pizza down the stairs right as your dad walked back in the house a few hours later. You loved pizza, normally, but now it was just reminding you of the acne on your face and the fact that you were totally and completely nauseated.

           “How much do you want?” He asked you as you walked into the kitchen.

           “None,” you replied. “I’ll have some tomorrow.”

           “You told me last week that you would literally die for Luigi’s pizza.”

           “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

           “Do you have a fever?” You glared at him, again. He nodded in understanding. Truth be told, he was still having a tough time being a single dad to a teenage daughter. He had to deal with a numerous amount of things that he didn’t think he would have to deal with. Periods was one of them. You’d had it for a few years now, but yours was different. You gave him a heart attack at fourteen when you said it was so bad that the doctor wanted to put you on birth control, and two years later you were still struggling with the fact that it was completely random if you even had it at all. And this was the first time in a couple months, so of course it had come back full force.

           “I’m eating saltines, I guess,” you sighed. That was the only thing you could think of that wouldn’t screw with your stomach.

           “Honey,” your dad said back, turning from his chair to look at you.

           “Do you want to clean up my throw up?” He didn’t answer you, which you took as a hard no. “That’s what I thought. I’m taking the couch.” You walked into the next room and curled up on the couch, pulling your favorite fuzzy blanket over you. You turned on Bones and ate the absolutely pathetic sleeve of crackers that was your dinner.

           “Honey?” You heard after four episodes. Your phone told you that it was almost 1 in the morning, and your dad had gone to bed hours ago. Or so you thought.

           “Don’t call me that if there isn’t a sentence attached to it!” You said. He sighed from the stairwell and walked into the living room, rubbing his eyes at the bright TV you had playing.

           “You should go to bed. Especially if you’re tired.” You sighed and got up, letting him walk you back to your room. You finally settled in, turning your own TV on so you could sleep to it, and fell asleep.

           You woke up four hours later to the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. And indeed it was; your bed looked like an absolute massacre. You’d fallen asleep with the wrong kind of tampon in. Again. Your blue-gray sheets were stained already, your favorite sleep shorts were stained, and you almost started crying as you walked into the bathroom. It was so early in the morning that the sun wasn’t even up yet, and there you were, crying and carrying your things all the way to the stupid basement. You tried to get the stain out of your mattress pad, but there was no changing it, so you gave up. You put everything in the laundry with a high soil level setting and set an alarm to get back up later to deal with it. And then you fell asleep on your couch again, still crying, and in absolute misery.

           “Y/n?” You heard your name the next morning and woke up, rising from the makeshift bed you made out of your couch. Your dad was obviously ready to get started with his day. You’d missed your alarm again because your fucking phone was dead.

           “What?” You groaned, about to start crying again. Your dad held his hands up in surrender.

           “I was going to ask if you wanted to come take a quick walk to get some coffee with me. We’re out. And it looks like you need it.”

           “Will you buy me a chocolate croissant?”

           “Of course. I’ll be downstairs.” You changed your clothes and went to put everything in the dryer, making a mental note to ask your dad if you could use his card later to order more sheets. And then you started walking down to your favorite café, twelve blocks away.

           “You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?” Your dad asked you as he pressed the crosswalk button. He was the only man in Manhattan you knew that would wait for a crosswalk light to turn, but you followed along with him. You stuck your hands in the sweatshirt you’d used to hide the fact that your stomach was twice its normal size.

           “No,” you responded. “I need new sheets.” He understood.

           “I’m sorry. We’ll get some at Target on the way home.” He gave you a small smile and herded you into the coffee shop. Normally he would try and tell you just to get something small, but he let you get whatever you wanted and he didn’t complain at all. You almost forgot about how terrible everything was when you got home later with a new set of sheets to put on the bed. These were darker ones, so even if they did stain they wouldn’t look too bad. He handed you the dark towels, too. And then you ended up raiding the fridge later. You looked like an absolute hermit with your hood pulled up and the drawstrings tightened up to your neck.  

           “So you refused the hot, fresh pizza last night and now you’re eating it, cold, right out of the fridge?” Your dad was standing in the kitchen, extremely confused, and about to go to the gym when he saw you with the cardboard box open, grabbing a slice in each hand.

           “What about it?” You asked in a slightly threatening voice.

           “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just admiring your creativity. I’m about to go to the gym, but I’ll see you later. Tell me if there’s anything you want me to get on the way home.” You nodded, knowing that you were probably scaring the living daylights out of him, and started eating one of the slices of pizza, closing the fridge door with your foot.

           You laid out on the couch for a few hours before deciding to take a nap. This time you didn’t wake up to a massacre, but you weren’t exactly in a good mood either. Your dad figured that out when he came back into the house. The light in the hallway wasn’t helping your migraine, so you did what any angry teenager would do. You found your slide sandal on the floor and picked it up and threw it in the general direction as the light.

           “Jesus, Christ!” Your dad exclaimed. “Honey, why are you throwing projectiles?”

           “I have a migraine! Turn it off!” You whined. He did what you asked, leaving the whole apartment in darkness.

           “I got you some of your favorite candy, if you want it,” he said. “I didn’t know what kind of sour patch you wanted so I got three kinds, the watermelon and the normal and then this new one they had, and then I got you some chocolate ‘cause your mom always wanted chocolate, and then we can get some ice cream or something later if you want.” He walked toward you and handed you a bag from the store. You sat up, taking the bag, and felt really bad.

           “Thank you.” He backed away from you like you were a dog about to bite. “I’m sorry I’m being a bitch.”

           “I get it. I probably would be too if that was happening to me. I think you might need to go back to the doctor, though, if it’s hurting you and you’re blee-” You found the other sandal and threw at him, this time in point blank range. “I’ll go call them and leave a message so they’ll get back to us on Monday. You just, uh… yeah. Please stop throwing things at me.” He walked out of the room and you could hear his footsteps quicken as he walked up the stairs to his room.

           A/N: I feel so bad for Seb here, but it had to be done. I hope you like it! A reminder that this will be my last post until the weekend probably, since I’m driving halfway across the country. I’ll be back as soon as I can!

           Taglist (if you’d like to be added, send me a message with what all you’d like to be added to!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

[ladybeehyde]

Apparently, I cannot do a single thing right.

So there have been many a night where my SO and I have gotten into an argument over dinner because he wanted to get out of the shower after working all day to a hot dinner and I aware enough to know that if dinner is hot when he gets out of the shower, it’ll be stone cold by the time he actually sits down to eat. But he’s been spreading rock on a half-acre property for two days, so I was expecting him to have an impressive appetite, especially considering he didn’t eat a solid lunch today.

The plan had been for me to cook up some steaks I thawed some time in the afternoon and reheat them at dinner time (which I assumed would just be when he got home). Unfortunately, I got really sick this morning after dropping him off and wasn’t able to get to any of the work errands I needed to run until about noon, so the steaks never got cooked. I got home from everything at about 4 and started trying to figure out what to do with them, thinking there was still time to have them cooked before he got home when he called with a new work errand that had to be run immediately. There went that idea.

I run the stupid errand, I get home, I’m exhausted from being sick all morning and running errands all afternoon, and I decide “fuck it, they’re just going on the grill”. I turn the grill on, get the steaks prepped, go out to scrape the grill off and low and behold, my SO’s incessantly ringing the doorbell to be let in when I get back inside since I took his keys when I dropped him off in the morning. He makes some comment about being surprised I’m not making cookies, which goes completely over my head because I don’t cook, let alone bake, and then asks why the steaks aren’t cooked. I tell him I wasn’t home to take care of that in the afternoon and I’m just getting to it, we have a brief exchange about me dealing with dinner while he’s in the shower, and then he gets in the shower while I watch the time. I do the other normal dinner things that need to be done while he’s in the shower, i.e nuke water for instant potatoes, season the other side of the steaks and flip them, season canned green beans, and he gets out just as I start mixing up the instant potatoes. And what’s the first thing he says when he gets out of the shower?

“I don’t know why you’re doing all that, I’m leaving right now.”

And I just freeze. I’ve had no indication all day that anything needed to be done after he got home. Bank accounts are all even, we hadn’t talked about running any errands, and he certainly hadn’t talked with me at any point about going and seeing anyone. So I have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about but suddenly I realize, everything I’ve been juggling for the last 20 minutes or so was a complete and total waste.

He won’t answer any of my valid questions about what he means, he just starts getting dressed and there’s steaks that need to come off the grill and potatoes that need to be finished if they’re going to be at all salvageable so I have to continue to work on dinner without being able to have any kind of conversation about what the hell just happened to the pleasant evening I’d been hoping for. This is also when I realize his comment about making cookies has to do with the cookie dough fund raiser we bought into a month ago that was delivered on just hours before. So I realize he expected me to watch the grill and the oven at the same time and I’m suddenly irritated because I probably could have done that had I known I DIDNT FUCKING NEED TO BE MAKING A FULL DINNER AT THE SAME TIME! So I rapidly get upset and what am I supposed to do in that situation?

So I pulled the steaks off the grill and leave them on the stove and sit down for the first time in hours while he’s in the bedroom getting dressed. I don’t know what else to do so I pick up my phone to double check a couple work things when he starts making shitty comments from the bedroom. “I don’t know why you didn’t say anything” and “we never talked about you making all of dinner” and “I was definitely looking forward to reheated food”. The straw that breaks the camels back though is “you couldn’t even make the bed, you just around all day don’t you?” And I’m responding the whole time, trying to explain why I didn’t even think I needed to say anything since he always expects to have hot food when he gets out of the shower and I didn’t know he needed to go do anything else and that finally shatters my attempts at explaining and pisses me off.

So I tell him it’s the first damn time I’ve been able to sit down all day, unless he wants to count the hour I was holding the toilet bowl this morning. I get up and go ahead and start making the damn bed, because I’d wanted to do that today since it’s been a mess since we got sick two weeks ago. And we’re standing across the bed from each other and he just won’t let anything drop. He has no concern for the fact that I was sick other than to make sure I’m not pregnant, he doesn’t offer any kind of assistance with sorting the tangled blankets out or passing his pillow over from the other side, he just continues to bitch at me about how much harder his day was and why couldn’t I just talk to him.

He has some parting shot I don’t remember, I’m apologizing and pleading with him over something I don’t even understand and he just walks out the door. Hes not just leaving, I should clarify that, I’ve put together at this point that he’s going to meet up with someone he’s been trying to sell something to for a while, but I’m still irritated that he never bothered to tell me about it. I fall back into the chair by my phone and start crying and think that’s the end of things, which I could handle. I’ll text him in a bit and we’ll either bicker some more or I’ll manage to be pathetic enough that he just wants to drop it or he’ll ignore me and continue where we left off but on a calmer note when he gets back.

Except.

Except he comes back in a minute later, saying “Should I go ahead and preheat the oven for you or do you expect me to make these cookies?”

And now I’m fucking mad.

Because I don’t understand why he thinks we have to make cookies tonight. I’ve already told him I was sick all morning. The only solid thing I’ve been able to keep down all day is the sleeve of saltines I ate while I was trying to figure out what to do with the steaks. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to eat the meal I just cooked that’s going to sit and get cold and he’s bitching that I’m not doing more.

I don’t even know where it went from there but the result is that I’m spitefully making an assload of cookies while I wait for him to get home. I don’t want to continue any conversation we’ve previously started because I know exactly how it’s going to go. It’s MY responsibility to figure out what he’s doing, not his to give me a heads up. It’s MY responsibility to ask him when I should do things, no his to be paying attention. It’s MY responsibility to apologize and get over myself, not his to make amends of any kind. It always seems like everything is my responsibility, like last night when he couldn’t even bring a tray of chips over to the table but expected me to juggle that, two plates for each of us, sauces and drinks while he sat down and started reading the news on his phone. He was supposed to find something to watch but instead decided to play some video from CNN about Texas (I hope I don’t have to explain more, what else could it be about in fucking America these days?) while both our food is getting cold when I haven’t eaten any more than he has all day but am too paranoid to eat without something actively playing since he thinks I chew too loudly. And I just start crying out of pure frustration over the whole situation.

So now I have to explain why I’m crying without bringing anything about dinner into it because I’m not allowed to expect help and then make any kind of comment when I don’t get it, unlike him. I go with the whole “it’s just overwhelming how shitty the world is” and “we were just talking about more innocent people being hurt last week” and his idea of comforting me is to say, “that’s why I carry a gun.”

Am I really signing up for this for the rest of my life? More and more it seems like my SO is a self-centered misognyst with a nasty temper and a controlling personality, just like my asshole step dad. Is this why my mom stays with that douche? Because when he’s not acting like this, I love him and can’t imagine being anywhere but at his side. And then we have days like these, and I just feel so alone.

[thevesseler]

Prologue Part 2

Beginning of Story/Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[Back at the base, the eight of you think long and hard about what you will and won't be able to bring with you. You fear this expedition is going to be more extensive than the average field trip.]

ESTER: It should go without saying– weapons, armor, and other battle supplies get packed before anything else.  Of course, if your gear goes on your back, it leaves room in your suitcase for things you want, and not just things you need.

PAULLA: You're preaching to the choir, Ester.  If that choir had too many sopranos and was also always off-key.

TERYS: Off-key?

[He shoots the two of you a glance from the opposite wall.  He knows it's just an analogy, but he's still slightly offended.]

ESTER: I know, but I really don't want to overpack, and then realize I forgot the necessities.

PAULLA: 'Kay, so what's necessary about that?

[She points to the sketchpad in your case, half-filled with sketches of your anthropomorphic wolf persona.]

ESTER: You weren't supposed to see those.

PAULLA: I see 'em.

ESTER: All right, you're one to talk. You're clearly the one underpacking here.

PAULLA: I have everything I need!

[In her suitcase is a sleeve of saltine crackers, a flask, 3 pounds of modeling clay, and a haphazardly rolled up poster of the most critically-acclaimed actor of the 20th and 21st century, Jason Alexander.]

ESTER: …

PAULLA: What?

ESTER: What do you plan to do with all of this?

PAULLA: …

ESTER: …

PAULLA: …You're right.  I'm going back to get more clay.

[She takes off to the pantry.]

ESTER: Stop!

[She nearly collides with Milenah on the other side of the room, who's actually putting in some effort to pack properly.]

MILENAH: In case we somehow end up straying from the path and wind up in the mountains, it's good to bring a thick coat.

TERYS: Not everyone is as bad with directions as you are.  Besides, you're just going to wear the same outfit every day anyway.

[She bites her lip.]

MILENAH: Du farkirtst mir di yorn  (1), I hate when you're right.  

TERYS: It's a good outfit.  The sleeves will never go out of style.

[He carries no real suitcase, but a wheeled backpack containing a few different sets of clothing, manuscript paper, and basic hygiene products.  Milenah peers inside.]

MILENAH: God, you're boring.

TERYS: Boring person, exciting life.  

MILENAH: So every leading man in a video game ever.

TERYS: Don't act like you aren't the same way.

MILENAH: Oh?  Where's my rugged beard and mysteriously missing child, then?

TERYS: I'm not sure about the latter, but the former is trying to help you pack your suitcase.

[In the connecting room, another pair of good friends share similar struggles.]

WYNTRAM: It's... it's literally all mirrors.

SARJANE: What more could a soldier need?

WYNTRAM: Do I go around the city with a suitcase full of swords?!

SARJANE: I mean... I mean you should... Ladies love swords.

WYNTRAM: I'm through with doing shit to impress people.  It's impractical.

SARJANE: But this.  This is practical.  My mirrors shatter easily.  I usually need a backup or seven.  Cracked mirrors don't deflect attacks, Wyn!  They just don't!

WYNTRAM: Okay, I know you're trying to be casual, and we've known each other for a long time, but what have we discussed about name boundaries?

SARJANE: “It's just Wyntram.  Dr. Springshear if you used to work with me.  Wyn if you're in love with me.  DorkFuck 5000 if you're related to me.”

WYNTRAM: Yeah, you got it.

SARJANE: You're diverting me away from my point.  Everything I need is already inside the suitcase!  Look at this.

[Sarjane presses a button on the frame above the largest mirror.  There's a clicking sound, followed by the glass swinging open to reveal a hollow, bottomless void.  Floating in the ether are neatly-folded sets of clothing and other assorted essentials.]

WYNTRAM:  No.

SARJANE: Yes.

[Wyntram snaps the mirror shut, takes it out of the bag, and flips it around to get a good look at each side and angle.]

WYNTRAM: There's no room for all that!

[Sarjane takes the mirror back, reopening it and pulling out a tall floor lamp (2).  She places the lamp to the side, returning the mirror back to the suitcase.  She grins smugly.]

SARJANE: Never judge things by their appearance.  Even mirrors.  I'm sure I never do (2).

WYNTRAM: Why'd you take the lamp out?

SARJANE: Oh, that?  I didn't actually need it.

WYNTRAM: You really do live to impress people, don't you?!

[The two spot Dael in the corner furiously texting what appears to be an entire essay on his phone.  Due to being cold-blooded, the phone can't sense his digits, leaving him no choice but to rely on a stylus.  Unzipped and wide open, they can see his own suitcase, packed with three jumbo-sized bags of dried sardines, ten cans of tuna, and a handheld gaming system.]

SARJANE: Now that's a guy who has his priorities in order.

WYNTRAM: Legend.

[Their speech turns to whispers.]

SARJANE: Who do you think he's texting?

WYNTRAM: Lunero, who else?

SARJANE: Are you sure?  That's a pretty big wall of text he's got going on there.  

WYNTRAM: I know.  Maybe they're fighting...?

SARJANE: About what, the laws of physics?  No, their bickering can't be more interesting than ours.

WYNTRAM: But look at him.  I've never seen him type so intensely.

[It certainly seems that way.  The blazing aura of passion can be sensed behind those beady eyes.]

SARJANE: Man, if you're right, I'll cry.  Fighting before our big departure is such garbage timing.

WYNTRAM: I wouldn't worry.  They have all night to make up.

SARJANE: What are you on about?  I thought we were leaving in like an hour!

[Wyntram unlocks his own phone, showing the message history between he and his old friend to her.]

WYNTRAM: We did the math.  If the vessels don't change their course or their speed, and don't make any stops, they'll arrive in Grienburgh in approximately three days.  For a 100% chance our crew can get the jump on them, we'll leave no later than 5:00 tomorrow morning.  Set your alarms.

SARJANE: All that calculating just so you can sleep tonight.  I don't blame you.

[Lunero bursts into the room, carrying a large stack of books under one arm.]

LUNERO: All right, I have what I need.  When are we leaving?

[Before Wyntram can answer, his phone's text notification jingle goes off. Thinking it's his pal again, he squints at the screen.]

“DID YOU KNOW THAT UNTIL 300 YEARS AGO KIDS IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS WERE REQUIRED TO PERFORM THE SAME PHYSICAL FITNESS EXAM REGARDLESS OF THEIR ATHLETIC LEVEL?  DID YOU KNOW THEY WOULD LINE THE KIDS UP AND MAKE THEM RUN TO THE OTHER END OF THE ROOM BEFORE A BEEP WOULD SOUND, AND THAT THE WINDOW OF TIME IN BETWEEN EACH BEEP WOULD GET PROGRESSIVELY SHORTER UNTIL SOMEONE WOULDN'T MAKE IT TO THE OTHER END IN TIME?  DID YOU KNOW THE TEST WOULD GO ON UNTIL THE VERY LAST KID WAS DISQUALIFIED, AND THAT THIS EVENT WAS SEEN AS COMPLETELY NORMAL AND NOT SOME KIND OF PUNISHMENT USED TO HUMILIATE CHILDREN WHO WERE SLOWER THAN THEIR PEERS?” (3)

WYNTRAM: No I didn't, Dael, but that's completely horrifying and I have no idea where you learned that.  Thanks for the random history lesson.

SARJANE: Ah, so that's who he was texting.

WYNTRAM: 5 a.m., Lunero.

LUNERO: Oh, praise Jesus.

[Almost instinctively, Lunero faceplants onto his bed, falling asleep instantly.  After a half minute of silent packing, Wyntram and Sarjane receive one more text each.]

“I READ IT IN AN ARTICLE ON ENDURANCE TESTS.  I WANT TO BE THE WORLD'S FASTEST-RUNNING FISH BY THE END OF THE YEAR.”

“PISS OFF SARJANE, I HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE OUTSIDE OF MARRIAGE.”

SARJANE: Wow.

(1) A common Yiddish phrase roughly translating to “You'll be the death of me.”

(2) Direct references to the carpet bag scene from the 1964 movie adaptation of Mary Poppins; The second reference is almost a verbatim quote, but with “mirrors” replacing “carpet bags.”

(3) If you've never heard of the FitnessGram Pacer Test, I seriously envy you.  The most horrifying implication of Dael's text is that the FGPT is going to be around for 700 more years.

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 42

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Chapter 42 - Angry

Over the next week, Rae didn’t say much. For days, she laid in bed, unmoving, for hours on end. At mealtimes, when she’d deign to join them, she sat in front of a full plate, staring at the food she knew she had no intention of eating. 

She always felt exhausted. Her limbs were heavy, and the hole in her heart only felt like it was growing larger. Even when she couldn’t sleep through the pain in her chest, she didn’t have the energy to get up and just stared at the wall next to her bed. 

Mrs. Mathews did everything in her power to coax her out of bed. She sent Carrie and Chrissy in to try to get her to go to a movie-go shopping. Something. Anything. Carrie seemed distraught at her friend’s current state, when the two girls left, she couldn’t even speak. 

This felt the same way when she was across town, when she thought that Dally had abandoned her. Except this time, she didn’t have the alcohol to numb the pain. Tim had made sure of that when he told them what she’d done. She cursed him for it. She could’ve drunk herself to death by now and she’d be with her brother, wherever he was.

When she’d told Two-Bit as much, he’d lost it. 

He’d yelled at her. She knew he didn’t mean to yell, but he’d had enough. 

“How can I help you if you won’t let me? If you won’t let anyone? If you won’t help yourself?”

When she started shaking and quietly tried to hold back her tears, he’d stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She didn’t want help. There was only one thing she wanted, and she wasn’t going to get it, no matter how hard she hoped. So, she’d decided to just waste away in her bed.

“We loved him too, ya know,” he said through the door. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear it, but she did. She curled up further as his footsteps sounded down the hall.

The next morning, Rae was woken up by a rough hand forcing her out of bed, her comforter coming with her. She stumbled to her feet, bleary eyed and confused, untangling herself from the blanket and letting it fall to the floor. Two-Bit released her arm and threw a change of clothes at her. She caught the jeans, but the shirt fell to the floor.

“Get dressed,” he ordered. “We’re going out.” She deposited the pants onto the floor with the top. 

“I don’t feel like it,” she said, turning back to the bed so she could lay back down.

“I don’t care,” her friend said, fiercely, spinning her back to face him. “I will take you out in your shorts if I have to, but today you’re going outside and you’re going to be a human.” A spark of resentment lit in her stomach and they stared at each other. Her eyes blazed with an icy cold, but he didn’t back down. He refused to leave the room until she’d done as she was told.

When she emerged from her room, Two-Bit threw her leather jacket at her. 

The jacket Dally had gotten her for her birthday. After staring down at it in her arms for a few long seconds, she shoved it back at her friend and refused to meet his gaze.

“Not-not that one.” 

Two-Bit frowned, but relented, and ushered her outside into the cold air. The sun was bright and she shielded her eyes with her hand.

“Where we goin?”

“Where else?” he asked as they made their way towards one of the most familiar places in both of their lives. 

When Two-Bit pushed open the front door, she saw most of the boys sitting around the TV. Soda and Steve were playing cards on the couch and Pony, finally recovering from his fever, was curled up in one of the armchairs, a blanket enveloping him, dozing off. Soda looked up from his card game and did a double-take.

“Rae!” he exclaimed, a smile spreading across his lips. “You’re here!”

“Not ‘cause I wanna be,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. She dropped into the free seat on the couch behind Steve, making the other cushions bounce. Her friend turned to face her. 

“How ya doin’, kid?” he asked.

“Just peachy,” she snapped, leaning away from him, onto the arm of the couch. Two-Bit gave her a look and shrugged at Steve as he crossed the room to go to the kitchen. She shifted and pretended to pay attention to the TV. When he came back into the room, he dropped a sleeve of saltines into her lap.

“Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“Rae,” Soda started, attention returning to his game. “Ya gotta eat somethin’.”

“Don’t make us hold ya down and force ya to swallow,” Steve threatened, his back to her again. “Because ya know we will.”

She clenched her jaw, but pulled open the plastic.

The boys left her alone for the rest of the day.

When Darry came home late in the afternoon, Rae was curled up in his mother’s armchair, her back facing him, one of Ponyboy’s books open in her hand. She didn’t bother turning when he walked through the door. He didn’t say a word as he passed her, but he did look back before he entered the kitchen where his middle brother was starting on dinner. She heard mumbling before-

“Yeah, just leave her be,” Soda whispered, but loud enough for her to catch. “We made her eat some crackers and she’s, uh, pretty pissed about it.” She sighed, loudly, and turned over. Darry walked out of the kitchen and went down to hallway to change out of his work clothes. 

When dinner was ready, Two-Bit came back in from the dining room to let her know. She turned the page of her book. 

“Look,” he started. “You’re comin’ to the table whether you wanna or not. I told ya, you’re at least gonna pretend to be human today.”

“Two-Bit,” Darry warned him from the other room. “Lay off.”

“It’s the only way I can get her to do anything, man.” A sigh, and heavy steps. Darry came up in front of her and knelt down to her eye level.

“Will you please come sit with us?”

She lowered her book and looked at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, his cheekbones protruding from his skin more than usual. He was tired. Stressed, dealing with the trial and his brothers, worrying about her, all the while still going to work. Grieving, just like she was. 

Rae felt the blood rush to her nose and her eyes started to fill. She looked down at her lap for a moment and blinked her tears away, then sat up.

“Fine.”

Two-Bit helped Rae out of the armchair and sat her between himself and Steve at the table. They had put a plate in her place, just in case, but she just sat with her arms in her lap, playing with the thin hair ties that she always kept on her wrist. The boys sat, talking about their days with full mouths. 

“Pony’s prob’ly okay to be home by hisself from now on,” Sodapop said, patting his younger brother on the back hard enough to make him drop his fork. The metal clanged against the ceramic and it made her jump. “He’ll be back in school in no time.” She looked up at the poor kid. He was still a little pale and he looked miserable. In that instant, it dawned on her that he lost his best friend, too.

Maybe...maybe if they could do it, she could too.

Maybe…

But how do they get over this horrible loneliness?

The boys were done eating and more clashing of plates scared her out of her thoughts. Darry asked Soda to do the dishes tonight and he’d pay his brother back the next night, then came back to the table. 

“Walk with me?” he asked Rae. She looked up at him, unsure. His lips titled up a little and nodded his head towards the door. Really, it was the last thing she wanted to do, but if he insisted, she’d do it for him. “C’mon.”

“I...I guess.” She stood up and followed him outside and down the front steps. The evening chill went right through her clothes and she pulled her long sleeves over her hands, then wrapped her arms around herself as the two walked down the sidewalk. 

“Two-Bit told me what ya said yesterday. I thought maybe you’d wanna talk. I know what you’re goin’ through,” the oldest Curtis brother started. “And don’t argue. Ya know it’s true.” She nodded. She hadn’t planned on saying a word. “I know ya don’t wanna do anything- don’t wanna eat, don’t wanna talk. Just wanna lay in bed and stare at the wall. I know because I wanted to do it too.” She was quiet for a moment, but he seemed to be expecting a response.

“You’re not wrong,” she confirmed. “But I don’t…” She hesitated.

“You don’t know how to make it stop?” he guessed.

“I don’t know how ya do it.” And then it all came out. It felt like she couldn’t stop. “I just...I’m so lost without him, Darry.”

“I know.”

“And lonely.”

“I know.”

“I can’t…” She looked down at the cracked sidewalk. It resembled whatever soul she had left. “I can’t do this without him.” She sniffled, panic rising up her throat. Thinking about living without him- laughing, having fun, growing older than he ever got to be...it didn’t seem right. It felt like she was betraying him. Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she let them snake down her cheeks, wiping them with the sleeves of her shirt. “I feel like...a traitor, still bein’ here when he’s gone.”

“Rae,” Darry said, stopping her at the corner of the street. He gripped her arms, firmly, and she looked up at him. She was sure she looked pathetic. “You can do this, okay? He would want you to live.”

“How, Darry? What do I do without him? How am I...supposed to live? I don’t...I don’t understand how you can just move on.” She was stumbling over her words now. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks.

“We move on, Rae, because we don’t have a choice.”

“But how? How do you enjoy it? How did you learn to smile again without feelin’ guilty?”

“Time,” he responded, pulling her into him. “The longer you go, the less it hurts. There is no instant cure.” She wrapped her arms around his back, burying her face into his shirt. 

“Does it ever go away?” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“I won’t lie to you,” he started, heaving a sigh. “It ain’t ever gonna go away. Not completely. It’s always there, even if it’s buried deep down. But one day, you’ll be able to smile through the pain, and you’ll be able to mean it.” She sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “I promise. And we’ll all be here to help. We...we loved Dally, too.” 

“Okay,” Rae murmured with a nod. He laid his head on top of hers. “Okay. I believe you.” Darry held her out again, slouching to get down to her eye level.

“You’ll stop worryin’ us now?” She wiped her cheek with her palm and sniffled again, but nodded again. 

“I’ll-I’ll try.” He nodded too, then laid his arm across her shoulders and started leading her back to the house.

“That’s all we can ask, baby.”

[pandabearlikes]

My Husband, Kim JunMeow

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Chapter o6. Kitten Love

“Your cat is over twenty years old,” the vet starts explaining the health check reports.

My mouth forms into an “O”.

“Well, we’re basically the same age, Bud,” I tease as I stroke my grumpy cat, who’s depressingly melted against the table.

“Well, in cat years, he’s almost 100,” the doctor corrects.  

My eyes widen and I pull JunMeow up to look at me.  “Dayum, you’re old and still horny?” I joke to try to make my cat happier but he’s still frowning and refusing to look at me.  His expression reads, “You betrayed me.”

“…he’s nearing the end of his life…” the vet lays down the facts as gently as possible.  I never realized how fast my heart could plummet.  My body freezes in place as shock waves run down my spine.  JunMeow's paw pulsates against my fingertips.  

“So it’s not really necessary to get him neutered.  It’s up to you as the owner,” she tosses the ball back of me but I’m too lost in my emotional eye contact with JunMeow to respond.  Having his secret exposed to the one person he wished would never know, hurts JunMeow so much.  His beautiful crystal orbs coat in excess water as he watches tears form in his angel’s eyes.  

The walk back home is a quiet one.  Instead of putting him back into the carrier, I decide to carry him in my arms.  We pass a pet store and I walk in.  Normally, vocal and giddy, JunMeow remains zealous and continues to stare at me despite what is supposed to be for him, Heaven on Earth.  I end up spending a whole paycheck on cat supplies.

“I’ll make you the happiest cat,” I promise and try to bite back tears when the vet’s words repeat again in my mind.  

“Meow…” JunMeow’s purrs are not high-pitch but soft and sad.  

“Do you want a cat condo?” I offer.  I would probably have to feed on saltines for a month due to the cost but if it makes the kitty happy…

“Meow :(“ my cute cat takes my hand with both his paws and shakes his head.  

Sniffling back tears, I suggest, “What about a cat bed?  Look at this one it’s soft and is shaped like a fish!”

Again, he shakes his head.

“How about—“

JunMeow jumps from his seat on the cart and wraps his arms around my neck.  Though, I try really hard, I burst into tears.

“I open my heart and let you into my life and you’re just going to die on me?” I tearfully choke.

Weeping along, the white cat tightens his paws around me and smushes his fluffy head against my face.  His fur gets in my teeth but I’m too heartbroken to be upset.  That night, I let him sprawl out all his toys, messily around my apartment.  We play “catch-the-laser” until he’s so tired out that he dozes off on my lap.  With a sad smile, I stroke his back.

“You can meet up with your lover as much as you want,” I whisper and kiss the top of his head.  Gingerly, so as to not wake him up, I pick him up and head to the bed to call it a night.  

In the middle of the night, rain transforms the cat, nestled at the croak of my neck, into his human form.  Under the same blankets again, just like the last few times the transformations happened over night.  Only, this time, the feeling is different.  With glassy orbs, Junmyeon cups my cheek with his warm palm and admires my angelic sleeping form.  I whimper in my sleep, “Suho…” and it causes the strong man’s lips to ripple.  Tenderly, he leans in, and presses his lips against the center of my forehead.  

Cats have nine lives, it’s both a myth and reality.  Essentially, they don’t really die nine times, instead, they are allowed to be mortally injured protecting someone up to nine times.  For Junmyeon, the first time was at the dumpster, when his human friend began to shiver and convulse with a seizure.  He hugged her, allowing her to steal away his body heat until he turned ice cold.  The second time was when he accidentally scratched her arm when they were playing and she ended up with a frightening infection that would have cost her, her life, had he not bargained one of his lives to the Heavens.  After that, he daren’t appear in front of her, fearing that he’d hurt her once again.  So for years, after he was tossed away by her family, he evaded being rescued by animal activists, opting to feed on leftovers at the back of a restaurant, and calling a tunnel his home, than to be adopted by another.  It’s stupid, but he didn’t think he could love another like he did with the angel who saved him from giving up on life completely.  

Years passed and he followed, on foot, each time his human’s family relocated.  He lost his third life when she climbed a tree, missed a step, and crashed hard against the pavement.  Doctors said it was a miracle she survived.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t take Junmyeon long to realize that his girl was not only clumsy, she was a prime target to criminals.  Fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh times, he fought off stalkers.  The last of the three was a merciless thief, ready to rob the high school senior, at gun point.  

She had given him the identity of “Suho”, the protector, and protecting her is what he’d do for the remainder of his life.

When she moved away from home for college, he was honestly excited.  Her family never liked him and would shoo him away whenever he got too close but now, finally, he could watch her from afar with an ease of mind.  He recalls admiring the girl, behind a tree trunk, across from where she sat to do some study cramming.  *She’s gotten so beautiful,* he thinks as his pearly azure eyes glosses over in tears.  For an hour, he silently observes her.  A new friend had joined her at the benches.

“I love cats!!!” the bubbly girl exclaims in her introduction.

“I hate cats,” his angel grimaces and replies.

Junmyeon's heart drops and he falls back into the shadows.  Another hour passes and the two girls were still busy chatting up a storm.  Her laughter rings into Junmyeon’s kitty ears and he shuffles cheerfully in place.  When she gets up to leave, the white cat muscles up the courage to run up to her. It was now or never...

“Minseok Oppa!” the female excitedly greets a male entering the scene.  Swaying side by side, she loops her hand behind her ear and shyly smiles up at the male.  

Junmyeon skids to an abrupt stop at the center of the traffic filled street.  Silently, he watches her skip away with her crush, her silhouette grows smaller and smaller.  That’s when he lost his eighth life; a semi-truck rammed right up to his fragile body.  It had hurt the most…perhaps, not because of the physical pain…

“You have one life left, My Suho,” God greets him at the gate of his ninth life.  “Please make it meaningful and use it wisely.”

“I wish to protect her,” he repeats the same wish he has made the previous times.  However, this time he adds, “I wish to stay by her side…as a human…”

“You know what that entails, right?” the Supreme Being warns.

“Yes,” the resolute cat answers.

“Very well…” God waves his arms, “Before you became ‘Suho’, your original identity was 'Kim Junmyeon'.  Shall Heaven’s tears touch your soul, fur shall morph to human skin.  At the prime of dawn, storms clear and the sun beams down, opening the doors of a love that is kind and selfless.  Suho, protector, I thereby summon you to your duties in your last life.”

❁ ❁ ❁

Mewling, I habitually roll around and stretch my arms out in bed.  It’s a new day and a new start —

“He’s nearing the end of his life…”

Heavy-hearted, I get up from bed and probe around for the white cat.  It’s a little strange, normally, I'd wake up to him suffocating me with his fluffy belly and meowing in my ears for food.  Today, it’s completely quiet.  Tousling my hair, I pick up the laser light and point it around the apartment.

Instead, I come face to face with Junmyeon.  Sensing my presence, he looks up from his chopping onions and gifts me an affectionate and tender smile.  I mimic his expression.  My arm falls back to my side.    

“Hey…fancy to see you,” I skip up to him and shyly greet.

Junmyeon laughs into his smile.  Bashfully, I tiptoe and give him a sweet peck.  As his eyes fixate on my face, his gaze grows loving, but sad.  I bring a palm up to cup his cheek without breaking from the stare.  

“Do you want to go on another date?” I ask, my voice aerial and enchanting.  

We end up grabbing some ice cream from a nearby dessert parlor.  My lover confesses that he’s never had any before and I gawk at him as if he had transformed into a cat right in front of me.  The expression causes him to grow frantic for a split moment while he checked his hands and feet.

I order two cones of ice cream and hand one to Junmyeon.  Eagerly, I tug his sleeve cuffs and point over at the benches.  It’s under the cool shade, perfect for a mid-afternoon cuddle session.  Slurping up my ice cream, I slyly tilt my head and rest it on Junmyeon’s shoulder.  Both of us grow shy but giddy.  

“Today’s weather is really nice,” I swing my legs and chirp.

“It is…” Junmyeon agrees and holds a hand out like a visor to block a bit of the sun.

“Definitely better than that rainy day!” I throw an ignorant remark that inadvertently makes my lover’s heart clench.  Popping up, I question, “You didn’t get sick from the rain, last time, did you?”

Shaking his head, he absent-mindedly replies, “I was taken care of and given a shower as soon as I got home.”

I blink.  “Taken care of?  Gave you…a…shower?  By who?”

Junmyeon slaps a hand against his lips.  My eyes narrow with skepticism but they catch the dripping mess on his hands.  

“Your ice cream is melting; why aren’t you eating it?”

“I can’t eat chocolate,” he finally admits.

“What?!” I spat out.  “Of all things you can be allergic to, you’re allergic to chocolate??  They’re so good…they’re my favorite,” I sigh and backtrack, “I guess you didn’t get to choose what you can’t eat though...”

“I know they’re your favorite. I found twelve empty boxes of chocolate under your bed,” Junmyeon chuckles.  My cheeks grow beet red.  “I almost lost my life when I licked it.”

Gasping, I scold, “Why would you lick it when you are allergic?  You’re just as clumsy as my cat!”

Shrugging, my lover responds, “I didn’t know I was allergic until I tried it…"

A frown plagues my once smile.  I sympathize, “It’s okay, take mine.  It’s strawberry.”  I place my partly eaten ice cream into his hand and take his chocolate one.  Innocently, Junmyeon holds his sticky hands and attempts to lick the chocolate residue off but I instantly stop him.  “Are you crazy?  You said you had an allergic reaction with just one lick,” I remind.

“Oh whoops, I forgot,” his stressed mind has caused him to suffer from short term memory loss.  

Shaking my head, I take a napkin and proceed to wipe his hands for him but then a silly idea emerges in my mind; I pause.  A mischievous smirk spreads across my lips.  Taking his hand, I lean over and run my tongue along his chocolate coated skin, like a little kitten.  Junmyeon sucks in air and clasps his legs together to hide his growing delight.  It’s a cat thing; no one else understands - not even me but I can already tell our future sex life would have a lot of potential tongue action.  It excites me.  

“Oh, Gross,” a rude voice snakily comments.

I look up and roll my eyes as soon as I spot my mean classmates.

“Aw, it’s the little flower with her kitten.  So innocent,” another mocks.  

“Ignore them,” I tell Junmyeon, who gazes at me concerned by the fact that bullies are taunting me.  “Do you like the strawberry ice cream?” I try to change the subject to distract both of us from the malevolent passerby.  

He nods and slurps up the treat.  

“They’re both probably still virgins, playing tea party with their little kitten love…”

“No, I heard they got married,” another hisses.

“I see no ring.  He’s f*cking her though; I mean look at her, she all horny and licking him in broad daylight.”

To the unreserved insults, Junmyeon clenches his fists and jerks up from his seat.  Shaking my head, I grab his wrist and tug him to sit back down with me.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pure fireball when it comes to haters but today, I didn’t want someone else’s stupidity to ruin our sweet date.  

“We’re married,” Junmyeon states, with an air of pureness.

Giggling, I answer, “I guess we kinda are…”

“Do girls like rings?” my lover shares his genuine curiosity.  

“Girls do.  I’m fine without one,” I shrug.  

“I want to get you one,” he decisively states.  Though, I melt to his insistence, the thought of his sad past and assumed financial instability worries me.  He didn’t even have clothes to wear before…

“Okay!” I surprise myself by agreeing.  Hopping up on my feet, I take hold of his hand and tug him down the block.  We stop in front of the exit of a large supermarket.  

“What are we doing here?” Junmyeon scratches his head and questions.

Squinting my eyes, I spot a lady emerging from the store and strolling toward the exit.  As soon as the doors open, I grab Junmyeon’s hand again and shout, “Now!”  We slip into the hall of the market, which is filled with capsule toy machines.  Eyes sparkle, welcoming back nostalgic childhood memories.  With an excited gasp, I point at the display of plastic rings.  

“Do you want one?” my lover bends over to scan the options.

Nodding, I dig into my purse for coins but Junmyeon presses his hand over mine.  From his pocket, he pulls out a handful of quarters.  “Which one do you want?”

“Hmm…the purple one!” I request.

Rolling up his sleeves, the determined male chucks in the first quarter, spins the wheel, and retrieves the capsule in his hands.  It’s an orange one.  Though, I gladly accept it, Junmyeon shakes his head and chucks another quarter into the machine.  Green.  Again, he depletes his wealth. Pink.  Yellow.  Red.

“Babe, it’s okay!” I assure as I struggle to hold onto the impressive pile of capsules in my arms.  A few drop onto the floor and I awkwardly wiggle my way to a squat to pick them up.  

“No, I want to get you the one you like.”  His stubbornness is quite attractive; not to mention when his brows knit like that, he’s kinda sexy.  

Still, it makes me regret specifying my request without checking the inventory.  Out of the massive collection, it seemed there is only one purple ring stuck in the middle of the pack and at this rate, Junmyeon wouldn’t get it even if he used up all his coins.  

“Babe, I can’t hold any more.  My arms are tired,” I fake a complaint and then assure, “Looking at it now, I don’t really like the purple one.  The pink one is really pretty!  See!” I rotate my wrist so that the fake gemstone on my finger would reflect under the light.  

“Are you…sure?” my husband asks as he relieves me of the crazy capsule pile.  

“Mmhm,” I nod.

“Should we take out the rings and toss the containers?” Junmyeon suggest when we end up playing chase-the-runaway-capsule eleven times within the first five minutes of heading back home.

“No!” I instantly reject.  Junmyeon raises his brow.  “Um…JunMeow likes things like these,” my explanation melts my beau’s heart.  We run after and retrieve a capsule before it slips down the sewers.  

~~

It’s a bright and happy morning; sun rays beam through my blinds, casting a rainbow across my cat’s tummy.  He’s living the luxury life, laid out comfortably in an island of plastic bubbles and a squeaky toy in between his teeth.  Lifting his bushy tail, I bring it to tickle his soft belly.  

“Meow~” he blithely cheers.

“I think I’m overfeeding you…” I poke his squishy tummy.

“Meooow :)” JunMeow takes my hand and brings it up to his head.  Giggling, I pet and ruffle his fur.

“You wanna get some fresh air with me?  I have to pick up a book from the school library but I feel like you’re going to run off by the time I come back…” I invite.

“Meow!” my cute kitty chirps and lifts all four of his limb up, asking to be picked up.

“You big baby,” I tease and lift him up securely into my arms.  In front of the library, I slip him into my hoodie and pranced in with a poker face.  About two minutes in, JunMeow starts to wiggle around.  I lightly smack his bum.  

“Oh, well look who it is…if it isn’t the little virgin flower kitten…” my classmates tease.  

Holding onto the bump in my hoodie to keep JunMeow from falling, I roll my eyes and walk away to try to avoid confrontation.  But the bullies act like immature high school brats.  

“Whao, did someone get knocked up?” the older female, who smells of marijuana jeers loudly so that the entire library floor could hear.  Instead of embarrassing me, a librarian throws her a displeased look.  

I stifled back a cackle.  “It’s called having a big lunch because I can,” I retort.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Little Miss Innocent,” she sneers.

“Whatever to you too, have a great day!” I try to play the mature card, grab the book I needed off the shelves, and head out the door after check out.

Oddly enough, the bullies don’t comprehend that pestering a fireball is not the way to go.  They tail me even as I take several shortcuts through alleyways.  Their taunts ring into my ear and I’m desperately trying to hold onto JunMeow, who I thought had fallen asleep inside my hoodie due to his lack of movements.

“Look at that ring!” one of the girls mock and pretend to choke, “Did your husband give you that?!  What?  Are you two five?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I skid to a stop and snap back.  “You guys really have no life outside taunting people, do you?”

It shuts them up for a few seconds before a girl retaliates by tossing her half eaten apple core at me.  It hits my temple.  Pure annoyance riddles my soul.  JunMeow starts to kick around and I attempt to hold onto him tighter to prevent him from falling.  

“At least, we’re not some little doll who can’t get laid!” the group of girls start to laugh.

“MEOWDSKHEGIRHIHGHGIUREHHRGHERUGUIERHUERGUIEWW!” my protector breaks through the zipper of my hoodie, leaps out, and lands on the pavement in between the bullies and me.  On his tip toes and with his back arched, he bares his sharp teeth and hisses at the three females who had fallen down from the shock.  I stand there half trying to reach for JunMeow but not sure if I should, a little bit baffled by his sudden hostile demeanor.  The sweet, cuddly, and clingy persona he has on at home differs as a polar opposite.  

“Cray-crazy cat like crazy owner!” the leader of the pack shouts and scrambles away.  

Still, anger bleeds fire into JunMyeon’s skin.  It isn’t until I kneel down beside him and stroke his back does his little body melt into my arms.  Standing up on his hind legs, he reaches and rubs the bruise on my temple, created by the apple attack.

“I’m fine,” I reassure, take both his paws, and bring it around my neck for a big hug.  “Thank you for protecting me, Suho,” my voice unknowingly whispers.

JunMeow blinks.  I pull him out of my embrace as my own words replay in my head.

A/N: Let the angst begin...hope you guys appreciate Junmyeon’s love for the girl (TT^TT)

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>>My Husband, Kim JunMeow Archive<<

>>Story Master Archive<<

[nok-abadjuan]

Nokia Jade Crooks.

01 / BASICS

Full Name: Nokia Jade Crooks

Nickname(s): Nok, Kia, Kiki

Sex/Gender: Female

Birthday: September 27, 1998

Age: 18

Astrological sign: Aquarius

Occupation: Tattoo Artist

Spoken Languages: English

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Birthplace: Tampa, Florida

Relationship status: In A Relationship

02/ PHYSICAL TRAITS

Race: White American, Black American

Ethnicity: Greek, Irish, African-American

Hair color/style: Black, curly naturally. Straightens it or wears it in curls or weaves.

Eye color: Dark Brown

Accent (if any): Southern Miami Accent, barely there

Height: 5″10

Weight: 150

Tattoos: Sleeve (flowers), wrist and hand (female)

Piercings: Ears, belly button

Unique attributes: High cheekbones, compared to Lauren London a lot

Defining gestures/movements: Pouts a lot

Posture: Regular

03 / PERSONALITY TRAITS

Pet peeves: Fake people, being lied to, being used, people who don’t cover their coughs or sneezes, people who don’t respect others opinions, weak ass niggas, copycats, passive aggressive people, people who can’t own up to anything, scaredy cats, when people tell you to do something as you're doing it, being betrayed

Hobbies/interests: Art, painting, drawing, walking around the mall, exploring places and things, hanging out, eating, watching youtube and going to the movies

Special skills/abilities: Very artistic but doesn’t really show it off, can do a split and back flip

Likes: Making friends, going out, laughing and being silly, cuddling, pumpkin spice lattes, baking desserts or pinning new ones from Pinterest, looking at herself in the mirror, looking at pretty women with nice bodies, going to sex store and buying sex toys to be goofy with and use, pranking, surprising people, reading conspiracy theories online, wikipedia is life, helping poor people

Dislikes: Being told what to do, being judged without being given a chance, sensing someone’s dislike for her or talking about her, people who talk about those less fortunate, being let down, fighting, arguing, not being given a chance, the dark, scary things like ghosts and monsters, scary movies,

Insecurities: Her weight, her shape, her hair, her past drug use and addictions, being easily controlled and persuaded to make others happy

Quirks/eccentricities: Dots her i’s with a heart, draws random doodles on any piece of paper in front of her, strongly dislikes the sound of chewing and hums a quiet song while eating, writes with left hand, but does everything else right-handed, loves to hug or touch on people

Strengths: Creative, love of learning, very wise and loving, really kind and sweet, cares about others, makes a great friend very loyal, forgives easily

Weaknesses: Gets in her feelings easily, very sensitive, gets her feelings hurt easily, easily irritated

Speaking style: Has kind of southern drawl, curses and says nasty things to be silly or funny, can be sometime ghetto in speech

Temperament: Bad temper, irritable, sensitive, emotional

04 / FAMILY & HOME

Family: Her father Gael and her mother Tammy do not get along. They hooked up the summer after senior year of high school when he broke up with his girlfriend and Tammy got pregnant. He went away for college with his girlfriend and eventually married her. He was barely in Nokia’s life and his wife now ex wife, forced him to stay out of Nokia’s life. She grew up with her white side of the family. Being the only dark one, she was picked on and set apart a lot. Her and her mother were kicked out her grandmother’s house and were homeless, lived in a woman’s shelter, then lived in a trailer with her mother’s boyfriend at 12, then they finally got their own 1 bedroom apartment. When she was 15/16 he took her mother to custody after his divorce and won custody over her because he had the money; being a surgeon. She moved to Miami to live with him and to live a better life, taking fun trips and having her own room.

How does (s)he feel about his/her family? She doesn’t like her maternal grandmother. She’s racist against blacks and thinks they’re dirty and did not forget to remind Nokia about herself and her father. She used to tell Tammy she was a slut for sleeping with a black man and having his baby. She called Nokia a porch monkey and little monkey. Called her a nigger whenever she was angry and drunk. Tammy and Nokia are close but they have their drifting moments. Nokia got her drug and alcohol habits from her mother. She used to buy her mother cigarettes and started stealing them to smoke with her friends. She started drinking alcohol because sometimes that was all there was in the house. They got high together a few times but Nokia got clean and her mother still struggles with her own addictions which she tries to hide but Nokia knows the truth. Nokia and Gael are now cooler than when she was younger and first moved in with him. She hated him because her grandmother filled her head with negative thoughts. She used to love when he came to see her or called her as a kid. She got older and realized he put his wife before her and hated him for it and the fact that she had to struggle growing up. They’re now in a better place because Nokia is learning how to forgive people and let things go.

How does his/her family feel about him/her? Her mother depends a lot on her. Since they kind of grew up together, being that she was young herself when she had her; they’re like sisters. Nokia’s father tries to do everything to keep her happy but shows his disappointment when she’s not happy with her. They both love her and she’s the only reason they’d ever come together but she never has asked them to, so they don’t see each other. They haven’t been in the same room in years.

Pets: None.

Where does (s)he live? Her father helped her get a small place but she’s breaking her lease because her boyfriend wants her to move in, so she’s living with him now in a really nice townhouse.

What is it like there? Enough rooms, beautiful from the outside, not much going on. Very calm atmosphere, quiet neighborhood.

Description of his/her home: Modern Townhouse.

Description of his/her bedroom: She sleeps in her boyfriend’s bedroom. Is moving in new furniture and they’re changing the decoration to be more neutral and sexy for the both of them.

05/ THIS OR THAT

Introvert or extrovert? Ambivert

Optimist or pessimist? Realist

Leader or follower? Depends on the situation

Confident or self-conscious? Self-Conscious

Cautious or careless? Careless

Religious or secular? Secular for the most part

Passionate or apathetic? Passionate

Book smarts or street smarts? Street Smarts

Compliments or insults? Compliments

Pajamas or lingerie? Pajamas

06 / FAVORITES

Favorite color: Black, Lavender, Lilac

Favorite clothing style/outfit: Tshirts, shorts, pants, sweatpants, dresses, heels, sneakers, flats. Has a girly but boyish style.

Favorite bands/songs/type of music: Yellowcard, Linkin Park, Paramore, Green Day, No Doubt, Gwen Stefani, Bob Marley, The Wailers, Peter Tosh, Shaggy, Destiny’s Child, Jodeci, TLC, Dru Hill, Xscape, B2K ,The Supremes, The Temptations, The Isley Brothers, Rihanna, Frank Ocean, Michael Jackson, Prince, Erykah Badu, Janelle Monae, Lauryn Hill, Chaka Khan, Ciara, Whitney Houston, Jazmin Sullivan

Favorite movies: Coming to America, Love Jones, Woo, Eve’s Bayou, Set it Off, The Grinch, Home Alone, This Christmas, The Preacher’s Wife, City of God, Cooley High, Juice, Losing Isaiah, Poetic Justice, The Wiz, Love & Basketball, The Last King of Scotland, The Princess and the Frog, Dreamgirls, Coming of age movies, cartoon movies, biopics etc.

Favorite TV shows: Atlanta, Insecure, Chappelle’s show, OITNB, Blackish, Power, The Proud Family, A Different World, The Boondocks, Girlfriends, One on One, In Living Color, Family Matters, Moesha, The Steve Harvey Show, Parkers, Talk shows, Court TV/Judge shows, crime shows, Half & Half, Survivor’s Remorse, Hey Arnold, Criminal Minds, RHOATL, Black Ink Crew, LHH, Fresh Prince

Favorite books: Monster, The Coldest Winter Ever, Kite Runner, Aesop Fables, The Wave, Desert Flower, Of Mice and Men, Number the Stars, Hunger Games, Life of Pi, The Giver, My Sister’s Keeper, The DUFF, The Lightning Thief, The Maze Runner, The Outsiders, Speak, Stargirl, The First Part Last, Tyrell, Good Girlz series, Kimani Tru books, Drama High series, Bluford High series

Favorite foods/drinks: Pasta, pizza with a lot of sauce, anything cheesy, fried chicken, buffalo wings with blue cheese, McDonald’s fries, slushies, homemade lemonade, gummy bears, skittles, zebra cakes, saltine crackers, apple juice, grape juice

Favorite sports/sports teams: None

Favorite actors/actresses: None

Favorite time of day: Night Time

Favorite weather/season: When it’s chilly outside or it rains and thunderstorms, warm breezy days

Favorite animal: None

07 / MISCELLANEOUS

Fears/Superstitions: Other people dogs scare her, scared of the dark, scary movies, ghosts, monsters, scary stories

Political views: None

Religion/philosophy of life: Believes in God but doesn’t go to church, wasn’t brought up in church, only knows basic biblical stories everyone else knows

Allergies: Spiders

Addictions: Used to have a drug and alcohol problem. Heavy drugs like cocaine, LSD, shrooms and weed

Best school subject: She was always good in math, gym class and art

Worst school subject: Hated science

School clubs/sports: None

How does (s)he get money? Tattoo Artist and her father gives her something like an allowance

How is (s)he with technology? Very good with technology and social media

08 / PAST & FUTURE

Fondest memory: Going to the kids choice awards with her dad when she was 12.

Dream vacation: Anywhere with water, beach, sand and beautiful tourists spots

Best thing that has ever happened to this character: Rose Kairi Knight

Worst thing that has ever happened to this character: Being addicted, trying to fit in, her upbringing, doing things for attention, being jumped and bullied, being physically abused, getting hit by a car

What does (s)he want to be when (s)he grows up? She never really had dreams or thought about that

Perfect date: Anywhere as long as the conversation is good and they can both laugh and make memories

[thelioncourts]

I’m gonna free fall out into nothin’ by marrieddorks (AO3)

A breeze from the open balcony doors brought a whiff of the peonies and sweet alyssums that were growing in their unexplored backyard and Jared stopped his fruitless ministrations to smile.

There was nothing that could bring him down today.

Nope, not even the soapbox rampage going on behind him, the one getting worse with each passing second they continued to lack niceties such as hot water and electricity and food and a place to sleep.

“And now you’re not listening.”

He turned that same smile to Jensen and the wattage of it only increased at the sight of his boyfriend – no, fiancé – and his seemingly permanent frown.

“You said that there’s no place open on Sunday,” he told him, fingers fidgeting with the stack of washers in his hand. Jensen narrowed his eyes dangerously but didn’t push.

“Nope.” Now he was pacing the expanse of what would be their living room, but paused, watching as Jared continued to play with the mess of Ikea pieces scattered on the floor. “Not a single one,” Jensen emphasized, making certain Jared could feel his frustration. “What kind of place is like that?”

“This place?” Jared ventured.

“This place! And do you want to know the real cherry on top of it all?” Jensen asked as if Jared didn’t already know. “There’s not even a supermarket here. In fact, the closest one is over forty-five minutes away. That means that if I want some bread, I’ve got to stand in line at the bakery and then if I want meat, I’ve got to head to an entirely different building, probably one on the other side of town, to take a number at a butcher’s. Hell, if I want a single damn tomato I’ll probably have to wait at the farmer’s market on a Saturday before the sun is even up. But guess what?”

“.... None of those places are open on Sunday?”

“None of those places are open on Sunday! Don’t these people ever need anything on a Sunday?” he asked rhetorically. “The place is like a damn Ren Faire only I can’t leave and go back to indoor plumbing.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Jensen,” Jared told him as if he hadn’t helped find and choose here at the start of their search.

“Yeah, I know,” Jensen deadpanned.

“Hey, no need for that tone,” Jared said with a smirk after blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face. This hair tie was on its last leg. “Besides, I seem to recall you choosing here as something to consider in the first place.”

“And I seem to recall you choosing to come on a Sunday,” Jensen shot back.

“It just worked out that way,” Jared shrugged. He scooted a table leg further out of the way with his foot. “It wasn’t necessarily intentional.”

“We could have been here Friday if you would’ve taken your parents up on their offer,” Jensen muttered, turning around to face the pale yellow walls of their kitchen.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jared half-laughed, pushing himself up off the floor. “You were the one who insisted we do it this way. Said you wanted our life together to start off normal, with just us, me and you.”

“Yeah, well, normal people at least hire movers and buy furniture that’s already assembled. And, after we kicked out the movers, it would be just us left.” He started to pick up discarded pieces of Styrofoam and plastic, shoving it all haphazardly in leftover boxes, the Styrofoam squeaking and grating along the cardboard sides. “Besides, who turns down their parents when they offer to pay for a moving company?”

Jared was still in a good mood and he couldn’t help the fake undignified gasp that left his mouth. “I knew it. You’re marrying me for my money.”

“Jared, please,” Jensen begged, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, okay,” Jared placated. His smile softened around the edges. “But you know my family, Jen. If I would’ve taken them up on the help, Mom would still be here and she wouldn’t leave for another week. She’d be too busy picking out our curtains for us and micromanaging where we set the furniture. And Dad would already have planned thirty-four renovations, and we wouldn’t get any time for just us before we had to go back to work, back to reality.”

“You do know we have to let them visit at some point, right? Your mom, your dad, your brother, Chris, Tom, Danneel, and Gen. Fucking Chad. And, hell, Megan already said she has dibs on first stay in our guest room. Don’t even get me started on my own family.”

“Exactly. They’re going to swarm us at some point and that point will, no doubt, be soon.” With three long strides, he closed the gap between them, arms reaching and pulling and tightening around Jensen’s waist. “Forgive me for being a little selfish with you.”

“Okay, but,” Jensen started, letting Jared nuzzle in nose-close, “movers.”

“And miss out on all this?” Jared said, stepping back so they could both look at the assorted mess of boxes, suitcases, and strewn tools that were, somehow, supposed to come together to make their home. “But this is where all the fun is at! The real test of a relationship isn’t seeing if they kill one another playing Super Smash Bros. but to see if they kill one another while trying to build a dresser. We’ve survived one of those, it’s time to put us to the real test.”

“If this is your idea of fun, we need to have a talk. We’re not even going to have electricity until tomorrow, and that’s a maybe. It might not even get turned on until Tuesday,” Jensen said.

“I found some tea light candles in a drawer by the stove,” Jared mumbled against Jensen’s temple, lips brushing at his hairline. “We can try to make due with those for the night.”

“What about sleeping?” Jensen continued. “The bed frame is still in its box and the mattress –”

“We’ll pull out all of the blankets and pillows and make a little nest wherever we want tonight,” Jared interrupted, pointing a finger at a series of boxes written on in Jensen’s perfect handwriting. With a mischievous grin, he let his fingers wander to dance up under the hem of Jensen’s tee, pressing in tight at the line of slim hips. Maybe his fingerprints would get stuck there. “That’s if we do any sleeping at all.”

He felt before he saw the give, felt it in the way Jensen didn’t push away, just allowed his spine to conform to the shape of Jared. “We don’t have any hot water….” he trailed, hand atop Jared’s, pushing it closer.

“I’ve had my fair share of cold showers,” Jared laughed. “Remember when I was fifteen? You came home from college for the summer and I was just figuring out all the things my dick was good for. Trust me, I took a cold shower at least once every day you were home, sometimes twice.”

He pressed his face against the bared expanse of Jensen’s neck, nosing behind his ear before kissing and biting and licking just where that perfectly cut jaw began, but Jensen was rigid against him, hand loose before pushing Jared’s wandering ones away.

“Hey,” Jared started, turning Jensen around to face him, fingers, still warmed from Jensen’s skin under his shirt, lifting his chin. “Why are you so put out about all of this?”

Teeth pulled at a full bottom lip, worrying it to a point that Jared was concerned for its well-being as well as concerned for the look of frustration and sadness in Jensen’s eyes. “You can tell me anything,” he reassured Jensen quietly.

“We’ve been planning this for almost a year, every detail from saving up for the down payment to the house hunting itself to the entirety of the move and nothing has gone right. This isn’t how I wanted this, wanted our lives together, to start.”

Jared looked at him then, so tenderly, watching as reserved walls, even the minuscule ones he put up around Jared sometimes, fell down, watching as his Jensen cracked open his ribs to hand Jared his heart.

“What are you talking about?” Jared asked, but he gave in after Jensen shot him a look. “So things haven’t gone totally as planned, I get it. But the most important things did! All of our stuff is here, the house is everything we wanted it to be, and,” he trailed, “I’ve got you, you’ve got me. That’s the most important thing of all.”

“You’re fucking corny,” Jensen said, but he was smiling now, the one that made his eyes crinkle up at the corners.

“Speaking of corn, I’m hungry,” Jared announced and his stomach growled as if happy to be finally acknowledged.

“Well, if you would’ve been listening,” Jensen started, pressing a quick kiss to the dip of Jared’s throat, “you would know that there’s nothing open on Sundays.”

“We could drive into town,” Jared suggested.

“You really want to drive for another hour and a half tonight? After our sixteen-hour trip here over the last two days?” Jensen asked, unbelievingly. “Be my guest. But I’m going to eat this sleeve of Saltines I found under the seat in the car and this half-eaten bag of jerky from the console.”

“So dinner’s going to be quick,” Jared said after a moment, lips pursed. His hands wandered again, this time inching down and down to grip tight at Jensen’s ass, grinding them together just enough to make Jensen groan. “Guess we’ll have to find other ways to occupy our time tonight.”

“Is that all you can think about?” Jensen’s actions betrayed his words though, his teeth scraping at the neckline of Jared’s shirt, his heart thumping faster in his chest, his dick hardening against Jared’s own.

“Are you kidding me? We’re in a house that isn’t right next door to Chris, a house that Chad doesn’t have an illegal key made to, a house that’s not an apartment and we don’t have to worry about the neighbors calling the cops because they’re homophobic assholes. You’re lucky I’ve waited this long,” he laughed.

“Like we ever let any of that stop us,” Jensen grinned against his skin.

Jared opened his mouth to respond with something dirty and secretive in Jensen’s ear when a knock on their door made them jump. They shared a look of panic, one that lasted too long before Jensen quietly asked, “Already?”

“They wouldn’t,” Jared started. “No, they wouldn’t. Not now.”

“If it’s them, I swear…” Jensen trailed, pushing away from Jared’s chest and walking towards the door.

“If it’s them, they better have brought food,” Jared chimed in, smiling despite himself.

When the door opened, however, they were both taken aback at the older woman standing in their threshold, an aluminum foil-covered casserole dish in her oven-mitted hands. She was smiling and small in comparison to them, and her voice, when she spoke, was so perpetually grandmotherly.

“Hello,” she began, “I’m sorry to intrude. It’s getting late, but I hoped to catch you before you settled down for the night. Welcome!”

“Thank you so much,” Jared said after a moment, voice sincere and smile full of charm. “Please, come in! We would offer you a seat, but….” he trailed sheepishly, eyes briefly darting over the mess that was their house.

“No, I only came to bring food, I’ll take up more of your time on a more convenient day.” She held her arms out and Jared gingerly took it from her hands, smiling all dimples when she said, “Be careful, it’s hot, dear!”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen apologized suddenly. “I’m Jensen and this is --”

“His fiancé, Jared,” Jared said, saving the hesitancy for another time. He placed the casserole dish on the box by the front door.

“Oh yes, I know,” she replied, smile never wavering. “My husband is who you bought this house from. We were so excited to know a young couple was moving in. You’ll bring some much needed life to these quiet parts.”

“It’s a beautiful area, Mrs. Wallach,” Jensen agreed. “We owe your husband immensely for introducing us to this place.”

“The pleasure is all ours, dear.” There was a pause in which she seemed to take both of them in, eyes twinkling behind bifocal frames. “Can I say what a handsome couple you two make? You’re engaged, yes?”

“Thank you,” Jared grinned, arm tightening around Jensen’s shoulders. “And we are. Just a few months away from the big day.”

“A new home and a wedding, how exciting! The future suits you both well.”

“We hope so,” Jensen said as he leaned into Jared. His thumb was twirling the silver band on his left hand and Jared noticed, his smile softening.

“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help as you settle in,” Mrs. Wallach started. “As I know the place takes some adjustment, especially as you’re moving from the city, we’d be honored if you’d join us for breakfast in the morning. I’m making the works, biscuits and gravy and sausage, and there will be plenty of coffee to go around.”

“You’ve got him sold,” Jared laughed as Jensen perked up at the mention of coffee. “That’s so kind of you, Mrs. Wallach. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we’d love to stop by.”

“No trouble at all. And I’ll make an extra pot of coffee just for you, dear,” she smiled.

“Thank you, again,” Jensen started, only to be cut off once more.

“No trouble whatsoever,” she repeated. “I’ll see you for breakfast then.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Wallach,” they both chimed as she turned to retreat with that same twinkle in her eye.

“Hey, Jared?” Jensen said quietly, stepping back so they could close the door.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to like it here.”

Jared grinned, hand still on the doorknob when he leaned in, pressing Jensen up against the chipped paint, pressing himself closer so he could capture Jensen’s lips. “Me too.”