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tangent101 · 4 years ago

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Max Caulfield and Post-Storm PTSD

One thing I find interesting (and have done so myself) is speculating on how broken Max will be in a Post-Storm (either Sacrifice Chloe or Sacrifice Arcadia Bay) setting. While some people (usually those who killed Chloe) like to say "she'd bounce back!" the predominant view is that we have a shattered Max after this who needs a lot of therapy. So I thought I'd unpack this and look at why I look at this this way.

At this point I should add there is potential triggers here. I'll be examining my own PTSD and elements of Max's state of mind that may in fact result in her being in declining mental health in the wake of the events of Life is Strange.

First, let's consider what PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) is, and what causes it. And for this I'm going to start by sharing my own trauma. Because I have PTSD. I gained this after I saw a vehicle go out of control and hit two people and run over two others. The final person was trapped under the vehicle and they had to push the van at an angle to pull him out, do CPR, and... he was dead. Even if EMTs had been right there, he'd not have survived.

I suffer flashbacks thinking of this, though it's gotten better. I will flinch, visualize what happened, and feel nausea. I get tense over this and... well, it's not a happy experience to put it mildly. And I have what is likely a milder case of PTSD. I also developed it despite being in an environment that put me at a lower risk of developing it. And yes, I had minor twinges of PTSD writing this up. Two years ago I probably would have had an actual visualization and anxiety break. So you can get better with therapy and help.

But what specifically is PTSD? According to the website for the National Institute of Mental Health, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) develops in some people who experience shocking or dangerous events, with people who have PTSD feeling stressed or frightened even when they are not in danger. PTSD can occur within 3 months of traumatic events or even have you be fine and then crop up *years* later. And symptoms include flashbacks where you relive the trauma, bad dreams, and frightening thoughts which can disrupt a person's everyday routine.

People with PTSD are easily startled, can feel "on edge," have angry outburst, and have difficulty sleeping. They could go through avoidance of staying away from reminders of the experience and avoiding thoughts or feelings related to the event. Further, cognitive and mood symptoms include problems remembering key features of the event, self-negativity, distorted guilt or blame feelings, and loss of interest in enjoyable activities.

Okay, so how can you avoid PTSD? And how could Max avoid this? Well, factors promoting recovery after trauma include seeking support from friends and family, finding a support group, learning to feel good about your own actions in the face of danger, positive coping strategies, and learning to act and respond effectively even when feeling fear.

And this is the kicker. This is why Max is likely screwed as a result of the events of Life is Strange, especially in a Sacrifice Chloe setting. Because Max blames herself and her time travel for the Storm and all the weird shit that happened. She may very well believe that if she uses time travel for any reason, it will result in the Storm and a lot more people dying. And this will get in the way of being in a healthy environment to avoid PTSD.

First, consider friends and family. Max can't tell them what happened because she has absolutely no proof of what she went through. She can't prove her time travel because if she does then she dooms wherever she is and a lot of people die. (It doesn't matter if this is the case or not, she assumes it is true.) So Max is not going to confide in Warren or Dana or Victoria or anyone. She can't. And she's quite likely going to isolate herself because we have already seen at the start of the game, Max is a bit of a loner who doesn't have many friends.

In fact, her two "friends" are Warren (who she feels threatened by due to his attraction to her, as seen by his inclusion in her Nightmare sequence including learning he doctored photos of her to include himself in the picture, his peeping activities on the second day, and the honestly-creepy "Go Ape" thing), and Kate. Kate is going through her own shit and Max remembers Kate killing herself. Is Max going to unload her own issues on someone going through a lot of shit as well or is she going to swallow her problems so not to trouble her friend? And Warren is someone she feels nervous around and who has engaged in some activities that set up warning flags in her psyche. Further, when she told Warren the truth, he promptly blames her time travel on fucking everything up. In short, she trusted Warren and Warren said "you caused all this destruction." (Even if Max initially blames herself, he reinforces that point of view before Max jumps through the photo to save Chloe.)

Nor can I see her telling her parents. Again, she has no proof. Her parents are overprotective already. If she starts going off on this fanciful tale, are they going to believe her? Or are they going to assume their daughter is cracking and force her into therapy and possibly hospitalize her "for her own good" (and thus she ends up medicated and miserable, having lost her autonomy and agency)? It doesn't matter if they wouldn't as Max will worry this could happen. It is better to never say a thing. So Max internalizes everything. And we already see evidence that Max has done this sort of thing in the past. Max keeps her secrets close to her heart. She never told her parents of the time travel even when she could have had proof. So why tell them after Chloe died?

I have been overcoming my PTSD by revisiting it and working through it. Part of this was guided by therapy. Max would not be in a position to talk about this. And how could she? After all, she didn't find Rachel Amber's body (and we have no proof her body is uncovered in a Sacrifice Chloe setting). She didn't see the Storm. She didn't see most of the incidents. The closest that happened was being in the bathroom when Chloe was shot. And her story of what happened would change from the week that beta-Max was in charge and when Max Prime returned to the timeline. So even if she was talking to a school counselor? She'd quickly learn that her story changed and probably shut up and stop seeing them so not to give away her story.

Remember: Max cannot admit to the time travel because doing so means either killing hundreds of people due to the Storm or being locked away for being crazy because she has no proof.

Next, we have feeling good about her actions. For five days Max had hammered into her skull her actions have consequences. More, those consequences are predominantly bad. Far too often Max has to Rewind to fix things from her actions. If she can't Rewind? That means by acting, she's going to fuck things up. In fact, the fundamental aspect of Sacrifice Chloe states that her action to save Chloe caused all of this destruction. Max is going to second-guess herself constantly.

I mean, if she sees Kate on the roof again at a later point (because women who are the victims of crimes are often blamed by society for the crimes inflicted against them as seen time and time again with how we blame victims of sexual harassment and rape for the crimes committed against them, so of course her church and mother and aunt will continue to blame Kate for what she went through), will Max dare to act? If she does, then she might cause another Storm. She might cause damage. If Kate is on that rooftop again, maybe she was supposed to die. Who does Max think she is by trying to stop Destiny?

So yeah. Max is not going to feel good about her actions. She is going to second-guess herself. She already had that tendency at the start of the game, and Sacrifice Chloe hammers down the truth that action is bad. Better to do nothing and not interact.

We end up with Avoidance. Well, what is the biggest Avoidance? Photography. Max already has a murderer who kidnapped her associated with photography. She remembers being in the Dark Room, being powerless in the face of the man who murdered her Chloe. (Just like she murdered her Chloe. She might not have pulled the trigger, but she caused Chloe's death.) She will see Chloe's death and Rachel's death and her own suffering each time she looks at a camera and remembers Mark Jefferson. More, she knows if she focuses on a photograph she could end up traveling through time and causing the Storm. So she can't even enjoy pictures anymore because they are a threat.

That's not to say that the Sacrifice Chloe setting is all dark and dire. She does have music. She loves music. So if she puts aside the camera she might pick up her guitar and embrace music. (Hannah Telle, Max's VA, once speculated that Max would enter a career in music, probably due partly to her own musical inclinations.) So while she might give up her greatest loves, she might eventually embrace a future in music. I doubt she'd ever play in public but... that might be an outlet for a hurting soul.

Now, I've gone on at length about how dire things are for Max in a Sacrifice Chloe setting, but what about Sacrifice Arcadia Bay? Well, things end up a bit more positive in this setting because she can actually talk about going through some of these things. For instance, Max dug up a body with Chloe. She saw Chloe almost shot by Nathan in the bathroom. She saw Kate attempt suicide (whether or not she stopped it is immaterial to the suicide attempt). She learned that a trusted teacher and mentor was in fact a predator who was kidnapping young women, saw pictures of these crimes, and thus "suffers flashbacks visualizing herself in this setting." She can go to therapy and talk about many things she cannot in a Sacrifice Chloe setting and in doing so she can start to work through elements that could result in PTSD developing.

She can also talk to Chloe about what happened. Chloe knows about the time travel. She knows about almost dying (and Max witnessing Chloe's death multiple times). This gives Max a needed outlet for overcoming her own fears and concerns. But more importantly is this: Chloe is likely to tell Max to face down her fears. Chloe is the person who always pushed Max to try new things. And I honestly cannot see that changing as a result of what they went through.

Max also will learn to feel good about her actions. I mean, she chose Chloe over Arcadia Bay. This is the ultimate action, and while she may feel remorse for those deaths and that destruction... she also knows she saved Chloe and Chloe is by her side. She knows that her actions led to the capture and arrest of Mark Jefferson and saving Victoria Chase's life. Hell, it led to David Madsen (and probably a couple Arcadia Bay police officers) surviving the Storm because they were in the Dark Room at the time of the Storm. Her actions have consequences... and those consequences need not be dire. They can be beneficial.

So the Max of Sacrifice Arcadia Bay has a support group, she has access to therapy and can talk about some of the things she went through, she has someone she loves who believes her, she knows that her actions have benefit, she has someone who urges her to move forward. This isn't to say she won't have PTSD... but she is in a far better environment to overcome this to the point that in Life is Strange 2, we learn (in the Save Chloe timeline) that Max is submitting to galleries and that Chloe is still with her. So she's taking pictures and is in a good place in her life.

Now, what about Chloe? After all, Chloe went through some truly horrific shit herself. Chloe was almost shot by Nathan, she almost got hit by a train, she was threatened by Frank, she dug up the body of a girl she truly cared for, dozens of yards from where she was hanging out regularly, she saw a huge-ass Tornado wipe out her home town and kill her mother... yeah, Chloe's been through some horrific stuff, about as horrific as Max. More, she is in an unhealthy position at the time of the game.

But much of what benefits Max in the Save Chloe timeline also benefits Chloe. She can talk to a therapist. She has Max by her side. She has Max by her side and Max out-and-out chose her over hundreds of people. Joyce chose David over her, and for four years Chloe was in an unsafe environment. Rachel was... Rachel, and she was cheating on Chloe anyway. But Max... Max comes back, she saves her life several times, she helps Chloe time and time again, and at the end she chose Chloe over Arcadia Bay. That is big. That is bigger than big, it is... for once, Chloe was told "you are important." I mean, I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking of how big this is. Chloe has realized just how much Max loves her.

So... Chloe might develop PTSD. She is at risk of it. I think her triggers might similar to Max's - both girls probably will freak over thunderstorms for a while, and both may develop an aversion toward guns... at first I thought they'd differ but really, they'd align fairly well. About the only trigger issue Max would have Chloe doesn't has to do with photography (which is why Chloe is the person who'd help Max overcome any such issues).

#ptsd #post traumatic stress disorder #life is strange #lis #max caulfield #chloe price #max and chloe #sacrifice arcadia bay #sacrifice chloe #mental health

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chemiste · 4 years ago

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Foresight ~ ch. 9

a/n : cool cool, heres ch 9, ALSO i will be posting y/n’s assignment when it’s all finished so that’ll be a couple chapters later, that’s why you’re not seeing certain pics rn. love y’all, please talk to me if you want id love to hear what y’all have to say, any thoughts theories about the story? whats going on in your life? tell meeeeeeeeee!!!!!

mah masterlist

“Guys, we’ve got a problem.”

Mitch said from the main section of the tour bus. You had been trying to get a few more hours asleep, but the soft rumble of the tour bus was changed to screams from outside the bus.

You moved your curtain back and stepped out into the bedroom compartment, rubbing the sleep from your eye.

“What is that…”

The words died on your tongue as you looked through the blackout veils in the living room. It was crazy. It was like all of Denmark was there, crowding around the Royal Arena, excitedly anticipating Harry’s arrival.

“So this is what 10,000 people looks like huh.”

You said, still a bit gobsmacked. You looked around at who was in the main compartment and saw Harry sitting on the left couch.

You plopped down beside him and threw your legs up onto the remaining part of the couch, leaning arm again his chest. With his right hand, the poster had been scrolling through Instagram, looking at all the postings from fans for tonight.

On the other couch, Jeff was on a call chatting with someone about the new people barrier they’d need to get through.

He ended the call, “The good news is our other buses were able to get here early enough and unload in the back before the crowd started. The problem now is getting us through the crowd, I called ahead and we’re gonna turn around and take an SUV in to try and be more inconspicuous. Everyone, what you need for the show cause we wont be able to get back to the tour bus till afterwards.”

The group complied and went into the back rooms as the tour bus exited the Arena parking, heading to the secret location where you all would switch vehicles for attempt number two.

You straighten your duvet out, having not pulled out anything during the drive so you didn’t have anything to pack. You glanced over to Harry who was shoving a stray piece of paper that had scribbles all over them into a journal that seemed overstuffed. “

Are those lyrics?” You asked, slinging your backpack onto your shoulder. His eyes looked up at you briefly and then he nodded.

“Yeah, uh, just writin’ whenever I can yeh know?”

You put your shoes back on and headed into the living compartment.

“Alright everyone off and into the SUV pronto so any fans that decided to follow the tour bus don’t intercept our exit.”

Jeff said, taking the keys from the rental man who handed them to him.

You all piled into the SUV, you and Clare in the very back, then Hélène, Harry squished in the middle, Sarah, and then Mitch with Jeff in the front.

“I’m a big boy why I’m I the one sitting ‘ere in the middle!”

He whined as the SUV pulled out onto the road, making his knees hit the console.

You laughed and pulled out your phone for a quick picture, but you weren’t fast enough as Harry snatched your mobile device out of your hand.

“Hey! Give that back you, thief!”

“Nope! I think we need som’ pictures of you know junebug,” the poster cackled, turning the flash on and leaning into Sarah’s lap to take a bunch of snaps of you crawling from the backseats.

You groaned and put your hand up to block the flash dots that had been clouding your eyes.

“Come on! Do better than that Y/N!”

He teased, you responded by changing you hand briefly to flip him off and then to a rocker hand sign. Satisfied, the boy handed you your phone back, that stupid smirk donned on his face.

Cute stupid smirk…

Huh? Psh, yeah whatever.

“Okay crouch everyone, we’re pulling in.”

Jeff called as he pulled into the Arena parking lot again. You watched as the SUV got through easier than last time. You could see from your crouched position some of the fans lined up, or walking together to the doors.

Some were holding signs, others had matching t-shirts. They all seemed so elated to be here, and it made you proud of Harry.

You looked up and saw Harry doing what you had been, watching his fans. A small smile grew on his face and you could see how truly appreciative he was of his fans.

Finally the SUV got to the back gate where the other tour buses had been stationed, Jeff rolled down his window and gave the man at the booth his pass. After it had been approved, the gate opened and allowed the SUV in, closing immediately as some fans tried to slip through but to no avail.

“One more time everyone, 3, 2, 1.”

The beats for Carolina started to play, and the band started up again, Harry standing in the middle of the stage still in sweats, hanging not changed yet.

It had been a few hours since they were able to get and now were just adjusting a few things for the performance like always.

You were sitting on the stage off to the side, laptop in lap. Those assignments didn’t do themselves. You were going through your photos, trying to see if any recent pictures matched some of the words you needed for your last assignment.

After that you head back to the dressing room, having time to kill as the band gets dressed and pampered. You decide to check in with Maggie and give her an update.

It was March 30th now, you were in Barcelona sprinting through the aisles as Harry performed Kiwi.

The concerts had been going well, Norway and Germany were beautiful but it all went by so fast that your memories seemed blurry.

But you remembered your off day yesterday with crystal-like perspective.

“Harry, look at this field oh my god have you seen anything more beautiful!?!”

You and Harry had taken the day off to find something of nature since the only thing y’all had been around the previous week were cement walls.

The both of you stumbled along a lovely meadow in a hill dip about an hour away from Barcelona, where he would be performing tomorrow night. The grass was tall and vivacious, little purple and pink flowers sprang up in between the stems.

H turned to you with a smile that resembled a kid on Christmas Day. He looked absolutely soft and sweet, wearing that blue and white striped hoodie. You matched him slightly, wearing a white sweater and blue skirt complemented by thigh-high boots to keep your legs warm.

“Woohoo!”

He yelled as he ran straight into the flowery abyss and flopped into the ground. You trotted over to him, laughing and snapping photos of the hill line and the fluffy white clouds.

He giggled and you looked down to the boy underneath you. You took a picture of him and smiled.

Scanning back through the photos on the small screen, you think if you’d been a least a foot farther from him you wouldn’t have heard what he said quietly.

“You’re very pretty yeh know.”

You snapped up to look at him, a bit surprised from the compliment.

“Oh, thank you. You are too.”

He crinkled his nose at your response, groaning and then sitting up enough to wrap an arm around your was it and drag you down to his level.

“Harry!”

You scream, sorta laughing as your fall was buffered by the flower bed. The sky was lovely, a bright blue. Clouds were scattered around and the wind slightly pickup, making you shiver.

“Come ‘ere.”

He said softly, pulling you rest your head don his chest. You held your camera up to his face, showing him a picture.

“This one is gonna be for ‘silly’.” You said.

“It’s perfect.”

You thought so too.

A cheer shook you out of your trip down memory lane.

Right, the concert.

You gripped you camera in your hand and scanned the stage to find the boy you were suppose to be taking shots over.

Or off of…

Stop it Y/N!

He looked good, decked out in the black and white patterned suit.

“ ‘ve ripped man trousers!” You heard him say with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, this boy. After a few more songs, he starts up Anna and you laugh. Oh this song.

You’re taking photos, bopping slightly to it, hey it’s a catchy song!

But then he turns to you and gives you a smile.

Oh no.

The lights shining off his suit and hair make him seem like he’s sparkling, and that smile just made your heart stop.

It’s like you’re fully seeing him in a different light and it’s breathtaking.

Oh, fuck, maybe I do like him.

You’re pacing in your hotel room.

Slightly freaking out.

“I like him! I can’t believe it, Maggie was right I’ve got a stupid crush! I can’t— this, how?”

You talk to yourself, trying to figure out when it all added up for you. The little touches, him saving you from the crowd that one time, sneaking out and touring Amsterdam, even the way you interacted with each other was different from the rest of the band.

“I’m—I’m totally overthinking this right? There’s no way…”

You’ve never felt this way before, the heart races when he smiles, the look he gives you after a laugh, when you hug or snuggle into him on the couch, how his cologne smells making you feel at home and loved.

You stopped pacing.

“Oh my god, am I in love with Harry Styles?!”

Yes, yes I am.

You turn, gobsmacked and flop onto your bed.

What am I gonna do…

You’re in the terminal in at 5am, waiting for the flight to Milan.

It’s dead quiet sans the occasional custodian worker of business group getting off an all-night flight.

You’re standing at a sunglass kiosk, trying on different pairs in the little round mirror set up. The band is across the wide walkway sitting on various chairs waiting for the flight.

Maybe or maybe not you’d been slightly avoiding Harry since the night of your little proclamation. During the Madrid show, you’d opted out of taking photos, instead going out to look around the city and maybe pick up enough stupid tourist gifts to make you forget.

Thankfully Harry didn’t seem to notice your sudden change in moods, unfortunately it meant he was coming over to you right now and you couldn’t stop it.

“Like any of the sunnies?”

He asked, grabbing a pair and popping them on and making a funny face at. You shrugged, not answering.

Oh great, now he seemed to have picked up on your inner turmoil when you didn’t speak, taking the glasses off and putting them back in their rightful place.

“You okay?”

He asked quietly, concern coating the edge of his words.

You nodded, pushing back some of you hair behind your ear and turning to the small mirror to look at your reflection.

“ ‘m just a bit tired.” You answered, hoping that would be enough for him.

He nodded, thinking for a moment then holding up his phone.

“Picture?”

You smiled, “H it’s 5am I don’t look the nicest for a picture right now”

“Oh come on Y/N you’re gorgeous any time of day.”

Not helping.

“Fine fine, but I don’t want to be seen.”

He opened the camera and pointed it into the mirror, “Okay then how are we gonna take this picture love?”

You wrapped you hands around his head to cover his eyes, “Like this goofball.”

He smiled, “You’re the goofball right now.”

After throwing up a peace sign with his spare hand, he snapped the picture and then checked to see if it was good.

“I like, ‘m gonna post it.”

You yawned and nodded to his statement.

Guess I wasn’t fully lying, I am pretty tired.

“H, we’re ready to go.”

Mitch called, you both grabbed your suitcases and rejoined the group, following the flight attendant into the small plane.

You were first in line down the aisle and quickly found a seat in the back of the plane, hoping Harry would opt to sit with someone else a few seats in front of you, after all there were only about 20 seats in the plane, hopefully he’d pick not pick the one right next to you.

I’ve got too much to think about, I might burst into flames if I have to smell his vanilla spice cologne for the next two hours.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Fuck.

“Yeah sure.”

He slid into the seat with ease, tucking his bag under the chair. You curled into the corner of your seat, trying to put a small bit of distance between you but not too much to make him worried.

Harry turned to look at you, propping his left elbow up on the squishy armrest between the two of you.

“I remember the first tour we did fo’ 1D, got ’t was hectic. Stupid, teenagers on the road wit’ too much money an’ not enough discipline. The first month was crazy, all of us high on the feelin’ of performing once we’d gotten over the stage fright, then immediately going t’ a new town, meetin all these people, ’t was a dream. But then a couple months later we could feel the toll, I don’t think I really realized how exhausted I was from touring until the last night where instead o' celebratin, I went to sleep right when we entered the hotel an’ didn’t wake up till 3pm the next day.”

Harry’s little heart spill didn’t help you too much with your dilemma, might’ve just made you fall for him even more, but you appreciated the fact that he was trying to let you know he knew the feeling.

“Thanks H.”

You mumbled, face squished into the headrest of your seat.

He patted his shoulder, “Come ‘ere, yeh can fall asleep on me.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m fine—“

“Nonsense, come on, you’ll wake up without a creak in yo’r neck yea?”

Fuck it.

“Alright.”

You scooched over and nestled into the British heart-throb, soaking in that damn vanilla cologne you’d sworn to avoid.

He laid his head on top of yours and you made yourself relax, cause you couldn’t deny it, it was pretty comfy like this with him.

Pretty comfy indeed.

During the concert, all you can think about while taking pictures is how the Styles boy might be sweeping you right off your feet.

The little dance moves he makes, so erotic but beautiful in the same way, like he’s in another room dancing on his own in the dark. The way he throws he head back during certain parts of a song, caught up in the moment—

She’s such a good girl,

“Be professional! You’re on job for gods sake,” You muttered to yourself, raising the camera again.

She feels so good,

But then you lower the camera again to watch as he rocked his hips with the beat, jaw-dropping at the sight. You looked up to his face as he turns, that was now looking at you.

He started to strut on the stage, slowing making his way to you, eye contact unwavering.

“I met her once and wrote a song about her

I wanna scream, yeah

I wanna shout it out

And I know she hears me now.”

Hold on, knows?!

He finally let his eyes drift back to the crowd, singing la la las with the rest of the band.

You on the other hand, were having a miniature heat attack.

The gesture was so raw, so real, too real. It’s like he was talking to your soul, reaching out to tell you—

Does this mean he likes me too?

telephone hour for this chapter!

mah masterlist

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wild-aloof-rebel · 5 years ago

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It’s chaos.

There are people everywhere, some calling for others to come help them grab the far end of a sofa or a table that’s too heavy or awkward to lift alone, others hauling all their carefully-labelled boxes through the front door with all the care typically afforded to things that aren’t theirs, which is to say practically none at all. The noise and the movement are overwhelming, and David stands in the middle of it all trying to catch his breath.

A hand finds its way to his back, settling in warm and steady against the stretch of his spine. “You okay?”

He blinks, and the memories of the CRA raid blur at the edges and fade. In their place is the same chaos, the same noise, but here there are no government agents in tacky windbreakers. Instead there’s Roland and Jocelyn, Ronnie, Jake, Stevie, Twyla, and what feels like practically half of the rest of the town. The boxes aren’t going out the door but coming in, each one being delivered to its appropriate room thanks to Patrick’s organized and efficient labeling system. Alexis is flitting about on the phone in a panic, her Miu Miu peep toes clacking loudly as she paces back and forth on the new hardwood floor David had asked Ronnie to install to match the one at the Apothecary, but it’s not Stavros on the line this time--it’s her assistant in New York, and she’s tittering on about deadlines and clickthrough rates.

David looks down at the four gold rings on his hand, at the one on the hand Patrick holds out for him to take, and thinks for the millionth time about fate, about all the things that had to happen to lead him to this precise moment, standing hand-in-hand with his husband in their new house, surrounded by the suffocating goodwill of their friends and family and neighbors. Patrick’s fingers tighten around his, and David grounds himself in the feeling.

“Yeah. It’s just... a lot, you know?”

Patrick nods toward the living room at the back of the house, and David lets himself be pulled along in his wake. It’s quieter here, farther from the mess of an unloading zone out on the front lawn. Quieter still when Patrick wraps him in his arms and lets him breathe into the familiar curve of his neck. The twisted knot of worry and happiness and melancholy and overwhelming love that seems to have lodged itself beneath his breastbone these last few weeks loosens just enough that he can breathe through the tangled strands of it all.

"’ms’ry,” he mumbles eventually against the smooth patch of skin in front of his lips, pressing a soft kiss there and leaning back just enough to be heard. “I know I should be more excited about this, and I am. Excited. But I—”

"You’re allowed to feel however you feel, David.”

“No, I know. I just...”

Somewhere down the hall, Alexis’s voice breaks through into their bubble of calm and quiet, and David turns toward the sound automatically, an old habit he isn’t sure will ever disappear. Her words get lost in the distance, but her tone is shrill and exasperated in a way it only ever is when dealing with their family. Usually it’s directed at him.

“You miss them already,” Patrick says, unfailingly understanding.

David does. He misses the bubble of the kettle when his mother makes her morning tea and the hum of her voice through the wall as she talks to her wigs. He misses the irritation of his father barging into the middle of a conversation and the secret joy of overhearing him talking business with Stevie. He misses the smell of Alexis’s perfume and the sound of her breath in the darkness and the softness of her hair between his fingers on the nights when she’s feeling unsettled and asks him to French braid it the same way she used to when they were kids. He misses them in a way he can’t possibly describe because they aren’t gone. They’re here, now, out front causing chaos that’s certain to have already made their new neighbors hate them, and David misses them so deep in the marrow of his bones he wonders how he had gone so long without knowing he needed this, without realizing that they’re as much a part of him as his lungs, his hands, his aching, tender heart.

But Alexis flies back to New York tomorrow, and next week his mother is off to start pre-production work on the fourth Crows film, which she’s not only starring in but also directing. And now that the last of his and Alexis’s things are out of the motel, his dad and Stevie will start the process of renovating their room, and soon enough it’ll be almost like none of this ever happened.

As much as David had wished and hoped and sometimes even prayed for that in their early days here, there’s not a single thing he would erase about it now.

He doesn’t bother wiping away his tears before he turns back to Patrick. “They’re my home,” he says with a shrug. “I mean, you are, too, but—”

“I know.” Patrick gives him a sliver of a smile, one of those looks that makes him feel all cracked open and raw, like Patrick can see right down inside to all the things he can’t manage to say. He leans in and brushes their lips briefly together, soft and gentle and sweet. “It just takes time,” he says. “To get used to missing them. To... figure out what home looks like now.”

David looks around at the afternoon sunlight dripping across the new, properly adult-sized sofa they’d picked out together at the furniture store in Elm Valley, the slate facade of their fireplace, the picture windows that peer out over their back lawn, the piano on the far wall he’d saved up to buy Patrick as a wedding gift. He can see them here, years and years on--the backyard barbecues and the snowy nights in. The lazy Sunday afternoons they gift themselves when they finally manage to find someone they trust to mind the store. The weekends he spends counting down the minutes until his parents are finally out of their guest room and back on their way to a house of their own. The holidays they celebrate with Roses and Brewers drifting in and out of all the rooms of this little house, filling it up with laughter and music and life.

There’s a stack of boxes against the wall, and David shifts them until he can pull the tape open on one labelled photos in Patrick’s tidy handwriting. The one he wants is right on top, like Patrick had somehow known he’d come looking for it, and he unwraps it carefully, glad to find it’s survived the move intact.

It’s a picture from their wedding day, and it’s an absolute mess. It was supposed to have been a posed shot, but somehow his dad is the only one actually looking at the camera. His mother is in mid-conversation with Marcy and Clint, who somehow look both delighted and baffled. Stevie and Alexis are laughing together beside them, his sister’s arm thrown across Stevie’s shoulders, and he and Patrick are too busy looking at each other to notice any of the rest. When they’d gotten the photos back from Ray last week, David had nearly dismissed this one as an obvious throwaway shot. But the more he’d looked at it, the more he’d come to love it, not unlike some of the art he’d once displayed in his gallery. It’s messy and unpolished, but it’s real and it’s honest and it’s bubbling with the kind of happiness he didn’t think actually existed before they’d found themselves in this town.

He crosses to the mantel, placing the small frame neatly at an angle, and feels his husbands arms slip around him from behind, his strong, steady hands smoothing across David’s belly. “Better?”

“I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Patrick presses a smile into his shoulder blade and holds him tighter. Down the hall, voices are rising again, and he knows they’re going to have to go break up whatever argument his family has inevitably caused now. God, he really is going to miss them. But for now he tips his head back to rest against Patrick’s, closing his eyes and listening to the torrent of noise that accompanies them wherever they go, trying his best to hold on to this feeling, to having all the people he loves together for just a little longer.

#here have a lil ficlet #schitt's creek #schitts creek #i guess i'll label this as #s6 #speculation #just in case #it's not really meant as proper speculation though you know?#anyway #all the credit for the picture idea continues to go to bea #rebel writes

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princessspacelesbians · 4 years ago

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She-Ra Fluff Bang is here!!!

Intergalactic Humanitarian Aid 101

AO3

There was a shriek from the other room that had Adora leaping to her feet, chair clattering behind her, sword starting to come into existence in her hand. The civilian administrators and diplomats around her all take involuntary steps back as her eyes start to glow. Energy crackles in the air around her as the magic of She-Ra starts to surface.

That noise was most definitely Bow. She’d spent too much time, too many dangerous missions with him to not recognize it. And no matter how much diplomacy Queen Glimmer and the rest of the Princess Alliance had put into laying the groundwork for this mission, if anything, anything, happened to her friends, Adora would not hesitate to bring the whole planet down. She’s halfway out the door, when there’s a follow up shriek, though this time, there are words that she can make out.

“Oh my gosh Catra!” Again, Bow’s voice. And now Adora’s sprinting, the words to fully summon She-Ra’s magic on the tip of her tongue. Bow being in danger is bad enough, but he can at least handle himself through most non-magical threats (and quite a few magical ones as well). Something threatening both her best friend and her girlfriend, enough that Bow is crying out for Catra? Whatever it is, it had better prepare to face her wrath. The people behind her can only stare as she goes charging out.

“Bow! Catra! Hold on!” Adora yells, skidding around a bend in the hallway. She knows where they are. Unless whatever it is has tried to kidnap them, her team is still in the loading bay. They’re here delivering medicine! And food! This was supposed to be a peaceful mission! The planet they’re visiting has been nearly destroyed by Horde Prime and they’re here to help rebuild. Diplomacy! Peace treaties! Humanitarian aid! All that stuff that Glimmer and surprisingly Catra are really good at! Who would try to ambush them?

She makes it to the door to the loading bay, currently half open. Adora kicks it all the way open with enough force for the knob to shatter upon contact with the wall. She raises the now fully-formed sword above her head and begins to speak.

“For the honor of Gray- wait what?”

For as much combat training as she has, and as she would like to be able to process the scene in front of her, Adora’s brain comes crashing to a halt.

“Adora! Tell him to stop laughing at me!” Catra cries in indignation.

“But you’re just too,” Bow pauses, and instead of actually describing Catra, settles for the squeal he reserves for puppies trying to walk and bouncing off each other and babies trying to have conversations despite not being able to do more than babble

“I am not!”

“Yes you are!”

“No! I’m not!”

“You totally are!”

“Adora! Make him stop!”

“Adora! Just look at her!”

Adora manages to process and act upon Bow’s last statement. Lowering her hand and releasing her magic, she finally is able to focus on and process the scene in the loading bay.

Most of the boxes of supplies have been emptied and moved to wherever the locals want them. A few are still sitting in the bay of Mara’s ship, which is still docked exactly as it was two hours ago when she left for the meeting and Bow and Catra started working with the dock crew to offload.

The local crew is not presently anywhere to be seen. Moving supplies, probably. Not kidnapping her team, definitely. Bow has collapsed to the ground, half-sitting and half-falling over, staring at Catra with massive eyes. His hands are covering his mouth, like he’s trying to contain his laughter. He’s only half succeeding. Catra is sitting. Squatting, actually.

No, Adora thinks to herself. Half-squatting, half sitting. Squitting? Sauting?

It takes her doing a full double-take to realize that Catra is sit/squatting in an empty crate. No wonder she’s in such an awkward position, Adora adds to her previous train of thought. She’s trying to cram her body into a space maybe a quarter of what she would need to succeed.

“Catra?” Her voice comes out a little strangled. “What, um, what’re you doing?” Catra glares at Adora, eyes filled with even more indignation than her voice had held moments before.

“Well obviously I’m, um, I’m trying to, um,” Catra peters out as she looks down at the box she has jammed her feet and hands into. She tilts her head and wiggles one of her arms.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“No! I don’t! Okay? There was an empty box and I needed to sit in it!” She stops moving her arm and tries to sit back with mixed results.

Bow giggles. “And you’re just so cute in there!”

“I am not cute! I’m vicious! And terrifying! I was a Force Captain in the Horde and I was a Colonel in the Brightmoon Armed Forces and now I’m a renowned diplomat who people recognize across the universe! I am not cute!”

Adora glances at Bow, who has not stopped fawning over her girlfriend. It also appears he did not pay attention to a single word Catra said.

“Catra, you know I love you, right?” Adora asks, eyes not leaving Bow.

��Of course I know that! Now tell Bow to stop making that face at me!”

“And I’ll stand with you through anything life may throw at us? You know this, right?”

“Yes!” Catra groans out. “I love you too, Adora!” Despite the rage in her voice, Adora can’t help but smile. Catra always means it when she tells Adora she loves her. “Now get Bow to stop!”

“I’m glad you understand how much I love you. But, um, you are totally adorable right now. Like, a new level of adorable I didn’t think you could reach.”

“You too?” Catra shouts this time, betrayal written in every feature. She begins rocking the crate back and forth ”How could you? I trusted you Adora! I swear, when I get out, I’m going to come for you!” Adora coughs to cover a laugh. Bow perks up.

“When you get out?” he asks. “Are you- no! You’re totally stuck!”

“I am not!” Catra cries.

“Oh my gosh, you’re stuck!” Adora whispers through her hands, which are now covering her mouth in the same adorably surprised manner Bow’s were when she walked in. “You tried to sit in the crate and now you’re stuck!”

The crate topples over, Catra falling with it. No one speaks for a few seconds. Adora is about to ask Catra if she needs help, when Catra sighs.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little stuck.” Bow squeals again. Catra hisses at him, and then turns her head to Adora. “Can you, maybe, possibly, help get me out?”

“Of course! Just, um, Bow? Do you have a camera on you?” Adora asks, glancing over to where Bow has practically melted into a puddle. Catra’s eyes go wide.

“No! No no no no no! You do not get proof of this! No one else shall ever hear of this!” Catra resumes her squirming, but her luck hasn’t changed. Bow manages to stand up and reaches into his pocket. “Bow! Don’t you dare!”

“I love you Catra, but I’m with Adora on this,” Bow whispers from behind the camera. Adora can see the effort it’s taking for him to not go and start cooing over her girlfriend again. “How about this? I won’t show anyone these photos until your wedding?”

“No! You never get to show anyone these photos! This never happened! Adora! Make him stop!”

“Our wedding?” Adora asks.

“Not the important part, Adora! Ugh! Stupid box! Release me!”

“Glimmer and I have a whole album of embarrassing photos that we’re gonna show.” Bow doesn’t even look up from his camera. “Scorpia’s even thrown a few in that she found of the two of you when you were younger. Evidently your teammates in the Horde had, um, blackmail material, as she put it,” Bow finishes and starts looking over the pictures.

“Hey! Those photos also don’t exist. Just like there will be no proof of this. Now Adora! Can you please help me get out?”

“Of course, love. Um, okay, here.” Adora scrunches her face up in concentration, and then she’s holding a golden crowbar with a slight glow to it. “Hold still.”

~~~

Catra slowly closes the door after Adora leaves, the concerned officials following after her. They’d been standing just outside in the hallway the whole time, but hadn’t said anything. Evidently they were just as confused as Adora had been.

The door doesn’t line up with the frame, so Catra pokes her head out into the hallway quickly. After confirming that Adora is far enough away, she turns back into the loading bay and stalks right up to Bow.

“You!” Her whispered shout is accentuated by a single finger pointing right at Bow’s nose, maybe an inch off of contact. “You almost just ruined it!”

“What? The photos? If it really means that much, I’ll delete-”

“Not that, Bow,” Despite being the only two people in the large room, Catra glances around and leans in close. “I haven’t proposed yet!” she whispers.

“You haven’t-”

“No!” She’s back to full volume now, arms thrown up in the air. “We’re having a picnic the night after we get back from this, and I’ve got this whole thing planned.”

“Wait, but, she’s wearing your pin today-”

“Bow,” Catra pauses and pinches her nose. “Bow, listen. I love Adora, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her, but she can be totally oblivious. Pretty much every day, she ends up wearing something of mine entirely by accident.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re already engaged.” Bow steps away from Catra, who upon realizing how close to his face she was, stumbles back a few steps as well.

“Well I haven’t proposed! And I don’t think she has. I would know if she had, probably. Right? No! Unimportant! The pin’s not the engagement gift, it’s that cuff you and Glimmer helped me pick out.”

“I know, I know. But at least she didn’t get stuck on that for too long, right?”

“Yeah. I should be fine. She doesn’t know, right? It’ll be fine. Everything will be just fine. Well, um, I guess we better finish unloading.” Catra turns back towards Mara’s ship and begins to climb back inside.

“And hey, Catra,” Bow calls after her, following into the bowels of the ship. “Look on the bright side! I sent the pictures back to Glimmer, and she’s already put them in the slideshow we’re making! Everyone you two invite is gonna get to see!”

“Ugh! I am so going to end you!” Catra shouts from deeper in the ship. Bow can’t help but smile at the empty threat.

#she-ra #catradora #she-ra fluff bang #shera fluff bang #she-ra fluff bang 2020 #adora #catra #bow #spop #spop fluff bang

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kluzty-o · 4 years ago

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The Lily of the Valley

Written by Gene 2019

Tallbacka---a place in Finland. Not everyone knows about this place. One of them is me.

We had to travel for hours on a boat crossing the North Atlantic Ocean to France. Then from France we rented a car. There were disagreements at first on what car we will have but in the end we chose Mazda CX-5. They said it’s a great car for long and non-stop travel. After we finished stuffing the luggage in the back our group hopped on our silver ride and quickly drove up to North.

The first few hours were mesmerizing; we passed Paris, Belgium, then to Berlin, where we made a quick stop to grab some breakfast. I decided to have “Rissoto Al Pollo” that cost 9.90 Euro. I am actually glad it’s worth it.

Then we head back on the road. This time I drove. My crew was like Medusa’s victims as they slept. Not moving and clearly has no sign of waking up after that good breakfast. This time we passed Poland, Warsaw, Latvia (My friend Robert offered to drive from here), and then we crossed St. Petersburg to Finland.

After 36 hours of driving and sleeping. We arrived in Tallbacka.

We wanted to take a rest but we are far behind our itinerary that’s why we continued to our client’s restaurant. Our car stop in front of a small red diner shop walled with large windows that a moose can fit in. Above hang a wooden sign etched with gold letters that said “Ruoka Talo”.

“What are we waiting for?” Sinn said as she unloads our equipment. As if on cue, a lady came out and smiled at us.

“Hi, My name is Fe Virtanen. Owner of Ruoka Talo, I’m glad you came all the way here. Such a small town isn’t it?” The wrinkles in her eyes told us how old this lady was. Yet, she’ s very charming. Green forest eyes, protruding nose, red lips, blue linen dress and wild vibrant blond hair. She exactly has the European charm. She reached out her hand and greeted us one by one. She gestured us towards her office deep within the diner. We followed.

After an hour of briefing, we took out our cameras and started to take pictures of the place. Robert and Sinn shoot the street view, Jason and Glem setup inside the diner. I alone handled the kitchen.

I slowly opened the door and came across a girl humming to an unfamiliar music. She sat on the top of the table holding her knees together. She looks like Mrs. Virtanen. Though her hair is darker and she wears a crazy and noisy pair of floral camisole and leggings. She was fumbling some strings in her hands. but before I could figure why. She noticed me. She fumbled down to the floor and smiled at me. A warm glow started to engulf my chest. The way her mouth crest at the end reminded me of the moon smiling down on me on a cold night.

She reached out her hand. “ Parcy Virtanen.” I shook her hand then she ran out of the kitchen.

At 10 PM we finished the shoot. Mrs. Virtanen offered us a meal before we went to our rented house just a few blocks away. The truth is the diner was shutting down, Mrs. Virtanen book us to capture the diner for memoirs and documentary. She said that the diner will become a book shop that the town always wanted. “It’s a bitter sweet filling.” Mrs. Virtanen shared her feelings. I actually felt guilty half-heated responding to the conversation because my mind is occupied by someone else---t’s Parcy. She was sitting across from me. Chugging down a cup of coffee. She glances at me from time to time and everytime I catch her, she quickly looks away. When we finished the meal, we all decided to settle in.

Mrs. Virtanen informed us she has another engagement for tonight, “Parcy will come along with you to check the pictures in my stead.” With a quick reassuring smile. she left.

11:00, we arrive at the house. It was a small comfy place. 2 bedrooms, a small kitchen, open living room where all the equipment is sprawled everywhere. And a large yard showing the view of the unfamiliar Tallbacka.

After changing into more comfy clothes. Tidying up some of our luggage. We all agreed to stay in the living room for the pictures evaluation. I sat next to Parcy and Glem. While Jason and Sinn are busy debating what camera is best for shooting a fruit. Then Parcy suddenly broke in.

“Whichever camera you use, isn’t a fruit still a fruit?” We all laughed.

Robert finally came in holding a tray of hot chocolates and cookies. After all, sugar is best consumed after a long tiring day. Grabbing our own cups, we proceed to the photo evaluation.

Hours passed but none of us seem tired. So we proceed to play cards and share each other's stories. It was a simple and comfy night. I also get to know Parcy more. Apparently, she is a fan of Haruki Murakami. Parcy especially loves “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running”. When she visited Australia once, she got to try Zumbo’s Macarons.

“I would die for it to taste again.” Her accent slips showing how excited she was.

“I should try making macarons.” I mumbled. But Parcy seems to have heard me and gave me a list of reasons why I should. When she finished, she suddenly beamed her heart-stopping smile.

I am definitely making those macarons.

Soon morning came; my crews were snoring away to their dreamland. We accidentally slept in the living room. Well, with all what happened last night, I wouldn’t find it strange. We laughed our ass out, designed the materials, printed the products and decorated the final album. It all happened in just one night. I got up and went up to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Wadling through the counter, I caught a glimpse of a person and in my surprise it was Parcy---stretching outside.

I decided to step outside.

Now, with morning light, you can see the Tallbacka’s beauty more. The scenery was breathtaking. ITrees shoot up to the sky, houses glow as the sunrise hits. The smell of grass and fresh baked bread dances through our nose. Singing of the birds sends melody to our ears. Mist made me forget that I haven’t washed my face yet. It was like a watercolor painting came to life. I wish the moment could stop right now. I wish I could stay here, but I need to go back. So, the only thing I can do is remember---remember the brief fleeting tranquil time at a small town at the edge of Finland.

“You can go back here if you want. The doors of our town are always open to people like you.” Parcy said as if she read my mind.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I would come here soon though.” I rubbed my freezing hand.

“I didn’t say when, silly Ruby. Even 5 years later, 10, maybe 25 years. As long as you remember to come back here it’ll be alright. Also as long it can help you, even for a moment to run away from romahdus--- breakdown. ”

We broke into a series of laughter that rippled through the waking town of Tallbacka.

An hour later, we are loading our luggage onto the van again. Today was our last day in this peaceful town. We want to tour a little but we still have things we need to do back in New York. Reluctantly, we head straight back to Ruoka Talo, to take Parcy back and to give Mrs. Virtanen our finished product and farewells.

Mrs. Virtanen was decorating her diner for a closing party when we arrived. She welcomed us with a big warm hug and a grin. Her smile grew bigger when we showed her the product we’ve done. Some tears might have left her eyes. She scanned through the small book we gave her. The book contains the diner history and its memories and most amazing moments through its legacy as it stood in the small town of Tallbacka.

“I love this!” Mrs. Virtanen's voice broke. After fanning her tears out, she proceeded to kiss our cheeks one by one.

“Looks like our job here is done.” Robert exclaimed.

Mrs. Virtanen pushed us back in her diner. “Oh no not yet, what about the payment?”

We laughed. All of us are heading to the office but Parcy suddenly stole me to the side. “Here.” She handed me a key. “When you decide to come back, come to the house written in there. That house the only thing isn’t changing here.” I was touched. I actually never thought that I’ll be able to come back to Tallbacka, but here’s Parcy---hoping.

“Thank you, Parcy.” I reply. My crew got the money and is now sharing farewells. I approached Mrs. Virtanen and gave her a hug. After a lot more goodbyes we get to our silver car.

“Come back, okay?” Parcy’s eyes were shining even more than last night. Her voice seems to linger in my mind too.

I nodded from the shotgun seat. Then we hit the road back to France. I look back from the rear mirror at the shrinking town of Tallbacka. Parcy still waving with at us with a hopeful grin.

I’ll come back. I whispered to the winds.

#writer #writing #short story #story #romance #drama

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elopez7228 · 4 years ago

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Scenic Route 8/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After finishing her cheese burger, (No, please, no more refills) Rey called Jessica. She had to lie about the details of her setbacks and the circumstances that had led her to haul a dog on a 3,500 kilometer road trip. She explained that she had loaned a car and was improvising from there. Yes, she was doing better. Yes, morale was high for now. No, she hadn’t run into any guns or cowboys (yet), but she had seen buffalos (from afar) and the scenery was absolutely beautiful. Alright, she would send pictures.

Placing the phone in front of her, she smiled as innocently as possible at the front camera and hit “send” on the photo.

Everything was fine on Betterton Street according to Jessica. Finn and Poe had been talking the talk, they apparently spent an entire afternoon discussing Rey-drunk-in-the-street and Ben-the-tall-dark-mystery-man. They unanimously wanted to know: who was this guy and what was the nature of their relationship ?

Rey rolled her eyes. He wasn’t anyone in particular. He was a random fellow from Denver who was both attractive and repulsive, but in his defense they had started off on the wrong foot, that’s all.

“No, Jess, I didn’t sleep with him. But if you think it’s hilarious that Finn believes I did, go ahead and have fun with it. You can tell him that I spent a night of passion with Ben Solo, rockstar and lead singer of KYLO & THE KNIGHTS OF REN. That way he’ll realize that I don’t miss him and that I’m doing just fine without him. And if he gets jealous—even better. Ask him how he thought I felt when I imagined him in bed with Poe.”

She ended the call there.

She finished her fries, covering the top of her glass with her palm to stop the waitress from refilling it again (had they gone mad here?) as she scrolled through her phone lazily. She was feeling nice and comfy in this 50s style greasy spoon—with its abundance of zinc, black and white tiled floors and red and pink neon signs. There was WiFi and air conditioning, and she balked at the idea of returning to her oven of a car.

Her finger traced over the selfie she had just taken. Her cheeks were rosy and her eye bags less prominent, how many days had she managed without crying? In the background sat a tall blonde woman in a buzz cut, looking straight in her direction.

Photobomb, Rey thought glumly. But the woman’s piercing blue gaze was locked onto the camera, as if by design. As if they were both looking at the same thing. Rey turned around to see if she was still there. She wasn’t.

A family of four were helping themselves to a small basket of nuggets. At the counter, a lone diner in jeans and a tank top sipped on a drink.

Shrugging, she pocketed her phone and tapped her palms against her thighs to get BB8’s attention. BB was also taking advantage of the air conditioning as she layed stretched out underneath the table. She got up clumsily once Rey gently tugged on her collar.

It was time to hit the road again, they could manage a few hundred kilometers by nightfall. The vast land sprawled in front of Rey’s eyes once more, set to the particular rock rhythm of Kylo & the Knights. Little by little, their surroundings transformed into the desert. Yellow earth littered with spiny shrubs and cacti.

She passed Rock Springs at 2:30 PM, taken by the frankly apocalyptic view.

Columns of smoke billowed overhead, likely from mines or factories. Rusted trucks rolled by. It was a sprawling urban hellscape straight out of Mad Max. The empty mountain side inspired a certain sort of fantasy—it gave new meaning to “the hills have eyes”.

A few more kilometers to the west and she would have hit Utah. But Rey deviated to the north. As she approached the crest of the hill, she was stupefied. She had stumbled upon Eden Valley, surrounded by forest and freshwater rivers. Rey was slack-jawed. She hadn’t seen this much green since she left England. The feeling was almost spiritual and she could feel her eyes watering.

A few hours later, after two bathroom breaks for the dog and a mini-walk, they crossed city limits into Jackson Hole. It was a ski resort town. Nestled at the foot of the green slopes, the town was the perfect summertime spot for hiking tours, hunters, and weary Yellowstone travelers. The hotels were pricey and the food was mediocre at best but it didn’t seem to matter.

She obtained a camping spot just outside the city at Curtis Canyon Campground. BB8 wandered as Rey set up the tent and her mattress for the night. Having unloaded the bulk of her belongings from the car, she was finally able to notice an inscription on the mat lining the boot: “MILLENIUM FALCON”. She smiled. Didn’t all pilots give their baby a name? This old hunk of junk had just won her over.

And so Rey piloted the re-baptized Millennium Falcon into the city in search of dinner. She parked the car in the heart of town, taking a selfie in front of a massive wooden archway decorated solely with deer antlers, then made her way into a noisy yet poorly-lit bar.

Seated at the counter, she ordered a light beer and a Caesar salad while she texted Jessica. She attached the selfie she snapped in the adjoining room.

And then she saw the shadow. What the hell?

She zoomed in on her screen, heart pounding. A blurry silhouette stood a few meters behind her—the same woman with cropped blonde hair.

No way, I must be seeing things.

Rey looked up from her phone and scanned her surroundings. Any second now, she would see the mysterious woman in the room. But she didn’t.

I must be imagining all this.

But the doubt crept in. She did her best to bottle the anxiety, to think of something else. But the question remained—who was this woman? Was this just a coincidence? After all, she had followed the typical route from Denver to Yellowstone and Penny’s Diner had been pretty much exactly in the middle of the way...other travelers could have stopped there for lunch too, it was totally plausible.

She scarfed down her salad, still deep in though. A woman offered to buy her a drink but she politely declined.

Afterwards, she placed some cash on the bar-top and thanked the bartender. Her heart was pounding again as she went out onto the street, there was a gut feeling she just couldn’t shake. She turned the corner to get to the car and—

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

A tall woman, the same one with the short blonde hair, was leaning over her car door and tugging at the handle. She jumped at Rey’s tone, scrambling away.

Rey felt icy beads of sweat slide down her spine. She hadn’t been imagining anything, she knew something was off. So much for coincidence. Furious, she marched over to the woman and raised her voice even more:

"Are you trying to break into my car? I'm going to call the police!"

The woman held her hands up in the universal gesture of innocence. "Well excuse me, I just thought it was mine. There's no need to make a big deal," she said simply.

" Really ? You also happen to have a dingy 1977 Oldsmobile with handpainted brown paneling on the front? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Screaming like a fury helped Rey cover up her insecurity. Why was this woman following her? What was she up to?

BB8 was barking furiously at the woman too, and Rey noted to congratulate her later. She had caught on very quickly.

The woman rolled her eyes and turned on her heels, turning the corner and disappearing into the street. Rey followed her, red-faced, before deciding to let her go.

She reconsidered calling the police as she held her phone once more. Who would believe her story? Some girl from Britain being chased by a mystery woman for 800 kilometers, a futile attempt to steal a car that didn't leave a scratch? They would surely laugh at her. She was wasting time. She had to move on by herself.

All those who bore witness to this altercation in the town square quickly turned away. They avoided the seething girl with the English accent and hastily took their leave.

Rey, heart racing and temples pulsing, bent down to pet BB8 in praise. BB was still in attack mode--growling and baring her teeth.

"Bravo, BB8. You did it, you protected me, good girl. That's a good girl,"

BB yelped and licked her nose.

"Come on, let's go. But first, I'll have to buy you a treat."

Google indicated there was an Albertson's grocery store that closed at midnight on Buffalo Way. There, she bought fried chicken bites for BB8 and cookies for herself. For breakfast...and dessert. Okay, she bought two packets of them. It was high time for some comfort food.

Something on the bulletin board just outside the store (boasting public service announcements and local yard sales) caught Rey's eye. It was a flyer that she read twice to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

KYLO & THE KNIGHTS OF REN

WEST TOUR

A sticker on the flyer displayed upcoming show dates at Jackson Hole.

The Mangy Moose, July 5th

She grimaced. She was driving around randomly in an area that was roughly 10 million kilometers squared, populated by about 325 million people. But she kept running into the same man in one small town or another. It was infuriating.

It was the third of July. She decided not to linger around Jackson Hole, she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and the blonde madwoman. Too bad for the concert.

It's not like she wanted to go anyway, she didn't want to run into Ben Solo again at all. Nor did she want to see the look on his face when he saw her out in public again.

Who are you trying to convince?

She waved away the pesky whispering voice in her head. It was time to go to bed.

On the way back to camp, she fed BB the fried chicken bites. She took down her tent and instead set up her sleeping gear in the back of the car. She didn't have as much legroom, but at least no one would be able to get away with breaking in unannounced.

Her phone was at eight percent battery. She had to recharge immediately. There was no way she would spend the night alone in a camp with no phone. She wouldn't live to see the day.

She slipped into her jacket and left BB8 to guard mothership-Millenium-Falcon while she headed to the camp entrance. Everything was closed, with the exception of an ill-lit vending machine. She found an outlet and sat on the floor to wait for her phone to finish charging. She was there for at least half an hour.

She couldn't stop thinking about why anyone would want that car. What was so special about it?

Her fingers trembled as she dialed Leia Skywalker--if anyone would know it would be her.

970-571-3350

There was no dial tone. Just a robotic voice informing her that the phone number you have dialed is not available . Rey was immediately taken aback. What the hell? She had certainly dialed this number before.

She tried again. Same number, same error message.

Her hands became unsteady. Unavailable? She had called that number barely a couple days ago. She had met Leia Skywalker in the flesh--ate with her and slept at her house. What did this mean? Was Leia using a burner phone to keep in touch with Rose, was this deliberate? But to what end?

The long-term implications of such machinations were beyond Rey, who was already battling anxious thoughts. What was it, what did they want?

Suddenly, she remembered the existence of Luke Skywalker. She had his number too, it was literally engraved into the dog's collar tag.

She dialed it shakily.

909-667-5721

The phone number you have dialed is not available.

Rey let out a scream and threw her phone down. It clattered against the damp floor.

She got up, heart racing and head pounding. Her breath was short and her hands were freezing.

Who could she talk to? Jessica?

Apart from worrying the living daylights out of her, there was nothing to be done. Rey had Leia's physical address since she had texted it to Jessica, but what was she going to do with it? Call the police to report the car? Tell them about the cute dog and the impressive change of number? It was ridiculous. No one would be able to help.

What were her other options?

She had to take the dog to the address in San Francisco, an address she hoped still existed, because the corresponding telephone number was clearly garbage.

Could she back out? She still had to get to San Francisco by the 15th. How was she supposed to change plans if she didn't have plans in the first place? She had mentioned Yellowstone to Leia but not much else.

Abandon the dog? No, the poor animal had no way to fend for herself. Abandon the car? She could hardly continue on foot. She looked down.

Her phone case had been partially damaged due to the fall.

She bent down gingerly to pick it up. Examining it to make sure that the phone itself was intact, she noticed a slip of paper sticking out between the case and the phone itself. Her eyes widened as she pulled it out with her fingertips. She turned it over to read the back:

Ben

970-663-8876

#reylo #fanfiction #scenic route #modern AU

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natysadventureblog · 4 years ago

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Day Seventeen [Internship at Mingan Island Cetacean study]

22-Aug-2017

A very early day! And I was so anxious about it that I woke up 5 times or so in the middle of the night, thinking it was time to get up (the first one was before 1h, I think! Haha)!!

One of the interns is leaving, and she's taking the bus (which is what I'm gonna have to do when I leave), so I wanted to go with her to see where it was, and how it worked. But the only bus leaves very early, so I woke up at 5h20, and we left just before 5h30.

The bus stop is in front of the market, so it's a 5-minute-walk… it's pretty close, but it's not easy when you have a lot/heavy luggage, or it's raining.

The sun had risen 15 minutes earlier, so it still looked very nice, especially with the fog… oh, yeah… there was fog… I was pretty sure I would go back to sleep, at 6h.

She thought the bus was at 5h50, but it turned out it was at 5h55, and it was about 5 minutes late, but I could only wait with her until 5h55, because I had to be back at the motel at 6h, to radio the house to confirm that we were not going out because of the fog.

Oh!! I found a dead frog in the middle of the street!! I hadn't seen or heard any amphibians here… too bad it was dead (and pretty squooshed)!

When I got back, the other intern had already radioed them (because she was supposed to go on the boat I went last time) and, as expected, they said it was too foggy, but for us to call again at 8h15.

So yeah, back to bed until 7h30. Then I got up, got dressed, checked out what the girl had left behind in her room (I took the table lamp she had taken from the other room, because, since there are no windows, it's pitch black when you turn off the light). When I went up to the kitchen, I could see the beach, which meant that the fog was gone, so I was optimistic! By the time I finished breakfast, we called them again, and they told us they weren't sure yet, because there was still some fog, but for us to try and go to the house around 9h.

I had prepped most of my stuff last night, so I just made myself a sandwich to go, took a banana and a granola bar, finished getting ready and we left around 8h50.

At the house, no one was in a hurry because they weren't really hopeful… but we were gonna try. I mean the other boat should be fine, because it stays by the shore, and they wouldn't be looking for whales anyways. Our boat was taking a session, so if we couldn't go where we were meant to go, we would try and go around the islands. Plan B sounded pretty good to me as well, since I haven't been to the islands and I REALLY wanted to see puffins (they don't come to the continent and they are leaving for Newfoundland)!!

As I was looking out the window, waiting for them, I finally saw the fog they were talking about… because I could see the sea, and it was cloudy, it looked like it was just water and sky… but then I realized that the island in front of us was pretty much gone!

We left for Mingan at 9h30, and then left the harbor just after 10h. The sea was very calm at first, but in about 10 minutes it was already very different! It wasn't bad; it was what we consider “sea state 2”, but considering that “1” is very flat, when you're on a speeding zodiac, you can definitely feel the difference!

Once again I forgot to put my gloves on, so my fingers were freezing, but I was gonna wait until we stopped to go to my backpack and get them.

I saw a few puffins!!! But it was all too fast, and the lighting was bad, so they looked almost all black, even though I was seeing their ventral side… but I could see their shape, as they quickly flew away from the boat… I need to photograph a puffin!!

The sea had calmed down again just before 11h, but less than half an hour later, it was at 3!! You can definitely feel that!! I hit my knee so many times that I was sure I would have some bruises!!

And then… we finally spotted a spout!! It was a fin whale!! My first fin whale!! The second largest animal that has ever lived!! Just… wow!! Because you only see a very small portion of them, it's hard to imagine their actual size… but it was amazing!! But the lighting was too bad for photos, so we left…

I was the one who saw the next one!! Another spout… this time from a humpback whale!! My first humpback whale!! They were able to ID him while we were taking photos, and his name is Adiego.

The whales have a breathing pattern; when they come up to breathe, they surface a few times before actually diving. During those, we get to take photos of their dorsal fins, or the chevron, in the fin whale's case (those are markings on the right anterior side, which we can use to differentiate them); then, as they dive, we can take photos of the peduncle and the fluke, in the humpback's case. That means that we can stay with the same whale for quite some time, because after it dives, it takes a good 10 minutes or so to surface again, and by then, it's somewhere else, so we need to wait to hear/see the spout again, and approach them again.

Oh! We had a few porpoises swimming around the boat on one of those moments when we weren't moving!! They're too fast though, so I still don't have a good photo of them!

We found a couple more fin whales, then stopped for lunch at 13h. But then we saw a humpback, and started recording again… and it turns out that this is one I recognize! It's a new one, that it's not in the catalog yet, so the girls hadn't been able to match it last week, and I was able to match, and then I saw that it was the same whale… it's a pretty small animal… It must be a young one!

And then one of the fin whales decided to join us, and it was awesome to have lunch with them around!!

Oh, something I never thought I would do was pee out of a boat, but days at sea are very long, so it's really hard to hold it in… and once we stopped for lunch, we all took turns going to the back of the boat to pee… and it was actually not nearly as bad as I thought it would be (at least on this boat), cause there's a perfect place for you to sit and hold on to, so you won't fall in the water.

We then saw other 2 humpbacks with the one I know, but when they surfaced again, after diving, it was just the 2 new ones.

Half an hour later we found 2 more, and once again I was able to recognize one! Another one that has no match, but has a very distinctive fluke, completely black, but with many white scars, and a rounded edge… and we needed to take a biopsy from it!!

The arrows have modified tips with a foam to make them not go deeper than 3 cm, which is enough to get both skin and blubber sample. The skin is used for DNA test, so we can tell the sex, and who is related to; the blubber is used to measure hormones (so it's possible to tell if a female is pregnant) and contaminants, which get accumulated in the fat.

It took 3 attempts to actually hit the whale and get the samples, and during those, I was responsible for taking photos (so we can see where the arrow hit). The camera is very big, and heavy, so that weight around my neck, plus looking through the camera and such, made me sea sick. But I wasn't feeling it in my stomach, but in my head, so I didn't need to throw up, I was just feeling blah.

We found another humpback, then the same fin whale from before, but I wasn't turning my head too much; just taking the notes… then, as moved for a while, I started feeling better, and the sea went back to “1”, so my head finally went back to normal, after almost two hours.

We found another fin whale and decided to call it a day, because it was already 17h30 and the lighting was bad, and there was fog on one side… but then, 10 minutes later, we found 3 new humpbacks, one of them being a calf!! Unfortunately, the calf never fluked though.

By then, the sea looked just like a lake! There was total silence, and we could clearly hear the blows! At one point, there were those 3 whales, 2 more on the other side, then one more, and another one… mostly humpbacks, but also that same fin whale from before; others we weren't able to get to, and there were porpoises and a seal… and we had just seen a minke!! It was fantastic!!

We approached the 2 humpbacks, took photos, then went back to the 3, to try and get better shots. We then went back to the 2, because one of them needed to be biopsied. Thankfully we got that sample on the first attempt!

We went back to the 3 whales for the last time, then called it day, once again, at 18h30.

We arrived in Mingan at a quarter to 20h, and the captain took the session back, so she could have dinner, while we unloaded and refueled the boat. It was already 20h30 when we finally left.

I helped them unload everything at the house and got to the motel around 21h. I met the new intern (a girl from Belgium), had dinner, took a shower, and was barely able to do anything else!!

I'm dead tired!! It was a veeeery long day!! But definitely worth it!! =)

#biologist #internship #conservation #marine biology #Canada #MICS

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thevirtualcanvas · 5 years ago

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To Be Loved By: Prompto

Being loved by Prompto Argentum can be compared to a heavy summer storm. It surrounds your senses, falls on your skin like a million tiny kisses. There’s no break and it affects everything you touch, yet it’s warm and it’s welcome. Your life was a heavy long haze and being loved by Prompto is a relief, it lets you breathe, it begs you to feel. Sure it comes out of nowhere, in a clash and a flurry and your his for the taking. In the beginning it affronted you with an electric intensity that catches you by surprise, leaves you dazed and soaked in dizzying affection. Being loved by Prompto is like being caught out in the rain, there’s something alluring about being stood in the centre of the storm, watching as it whirls around you, a pure force of nature, and that’s exactly what he is.

He took you out to the local park and bought a picnic lunch for your first date. He’d just applied for the Crownsgaurd and still didn’t have much money but was so excited you’d said yes to going out he planned the day to the T. He took you out on the duck pond, bought ice cream, snapped photo’s of you all day long. Capturing your every moment on camera with a soft smile and a giddy heart. Then he took you to the founders festival and won you a Rogue Queen plushie with a sharp shot and a cocky look. He dropped you off at the door and you felt almost sad the day was over. He told you how much of a blast he’d had and wanted to know if you’d see him again. As if you’d ever say no, you we’re smitten the moment you saw him at his work, the studio when he took your yearly company photo (as an apprentice no less) and made you all wear silly hats, daft looks on your faces, and have an enjoyable time. He was charming, you flirted, he flirted, you found his number in the copy of the photo you received and a cute little note asking for coffee.

Then it seemed like it just happened. Awkwardly. Uncertain. Then you just fell into a routine. There wasn’t even a conversation. One day you just started to refer to him as your other half, he would call you his better half. He spends as much time at your apartment as he does at Noct’s. You’ve met the Prince a couple of times, just lounging on your sofa, that was a shock the first time it happened. Prompto apologised profusely. Did I forget to mention my bff in the whole world is the Crown Prince? He fixed the pressure on your shower and the broken latch on your window and it was forgiven that the bloody PRINCE was chilling in your untidy lounge. You also get a gift basket from the office of King Regis once a month as a thanks for letting Noctis ‘crash’ on your sofa when neither can be bothered to go home and decide upon a sleepover. It’s a joy to see him turn the space into something that belongs to both of you. You can often find him tinkering with camera’s on the breakfast bar. Editing images on his laptop in the lounge, hair pushed back and comfy clothes on. Singing in the shower as his running gear is spinning in the washing machine. Making you breakfast, he can do that much at least, singing little songs about the things you do as you get dressed in the morning, and begging for attentions before you leave for the day. So many little and longing kisses you almost miss your bus.

The few times you spend time at his house, his parents are never home. He says it doesn’t bother him, but – you know, he’d like them to meet you at least once. He just smiles, pretends like it was his dastardly intention to get you all alone in the first place so he can make his move. Prom, you remind him, we have a whole flat where you can make a move. Yeah but I haven’t seduced you in my childhood room, babe, he reminds you. Though it makes him sad, his found family is just as important to his as his adopted one (Which you only found out by accident. How can two people with jet black hair have a blonde kid??) You often find yourself under the precise hosting of Ignis Scientia. It’s Noctis’ night, but no one wants him to cook after last time, burnt toast anyone? It’s the handful of time Prompto smiles genuinely when he’s in the company of friends. It reaches his eyes, crinkles those beautifully angular edges and it reaches your heart. You want to kiss him across the table and all the way back home to the bedroom, if you make it, if not the sofa is fine too.

He truly is like a thunderstorm. His self hatred and deprecation can be alarming. It clatters through the day like a gong of thunder. Echoing through the walls as his fears and anxieties cause him to fall apart. He’s not good enough. Never good enough. Usually after a text from his parents. Or a bad session of training. When Gladio kicks his ass in sparring or Ignis reprimands his lack of concentration when it comes to first age history. Or Noct has bailed on him because of some boring dignitary and their brat and you find him curled up in your bed, sobbing like his heart is breaking, scratching and scratching at his wrists until they’ve bled all over your sheets. You can’t tell him otherwise. That voice in his head is so strong it blind-sides him, over-rides every logical thought and reason. You just have to ride the storm with him and wait until the grey dissolves and the rain patters to a stop. Then you pick up the pieces and build Prompto back together again.

Prompto is more affectionate after these episodes, he needs to apologise, but he also needs to feel deserving of your love. He’ll cling to your waist, search for your hands, seek your lips and you just have to be patient. It’s how he loves you. It’s the only thing in this world he’s confident in doing. He doesn’t know how to accept himself but you, you’re absolute. Infallible, he might be made of sunshine, but to Prompto, you are the sun. He gravitates towards you, basks in your light and finds his solace in your presence.

I love you, you know that, right? He’ll tell you every day. As you wake up, over message with tonnes of emojis and gifs to hide his serious tone, over dinner, and every time his goes out for a run. He tells you when he makes love to you, where ever he makes love to you. He bakes into every single touch. I love you. As he kisses you from top to toe. I love you. As he makes you see white hot pleasure. I love you. As he insists on touching you again, everywhere, long dexterous hands knowing exactly what you need. I love you. As he slides himself into your body, finally. Moving with so much vigour you might pass out. I love you. He’s ready to go again, body glowing, hands wandering. Eager to love you as many times as you’ll allow him, as long as you’re willing. I love you, you know that, right? Prompto will whisper into your ear as your curled up against his chest, long, lean legs intertwined into yours and fingers ghosting along your arms and shoulder. Holding you tight, even though you need to shower and you should really unload the washing machine. It weakens your resolve until all you want to do is fall apart in his arms and tell him: I love you too, you know that too, right?

Being loved by Prompto is like a storm, yet being in love with Prompto is the whole season. It’s hot and heady. It can wear you down and knock you sideways. But what can you say, you’ve always been a fan of the sunshine and being loved by it personified makes you the warmest and happiest person on Eos.

#prompto x reader #prompto argentum #reader insert #my fav sunshine boi #ffxv #my writing

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valkirsif · 5 years ago

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Unthinkable CH 33/???

Tom Hiddleston x reader

Word 3200

Warning SMUT

They passed on to greet Tom's family before heading to the airport, Y/N felt nervous that she wanted to stay a little longer in London and would stay if the idea of not seeing Tom for weeks had not been so unbearable, she looked out from the window the city that paraded in half a day would arrive in LA

"Thomas where will we stand once we land?" she asked feeling foolish for not having inquired before, "You didn't tell me anything and I'm starting to be curious," smiled,

"If you promise not to get upset, I'll tell you ..." he replied mysteriously, the woman shook her head and laughed it was a similar phrase from him, "... I found a delightful place .. in the hills .. completely glassy" said hugging her,

"Like glass?" she asked in amazement, "shall we live in an aquarium?" laughed, it was not her idea of privacy a glass house but she would have adapted, "the next time you ask more questions" told himself admiring the city.

The driver parked in front of the entrance and unloaded the few baggage they had while Tom took a trolley, Y/N smiled trying to disregard the people who had been staring at her since had come down with her companion from the car, many had pulled out the phone to steal some shots, Tom took her hand

"Let's go" he smiled before kissing her, the couple entered and headed for the company counter to pick up tickets and check in, a group of girls approached as they moved to reach the gate,

"Can we take a picture?" they asked excitedly

"Certainly," the man replied as always courteous and affable, took a couple of shots and Tom signed the photos, Y/N watched the girls leave with the precious booty,

"..That luck ..", ".. we came on purpose ..", "..you saw how beautiful his girlfriend ..", the woman smiled reaching Tom who was waiting for her,

"Sorry it's so strange until recently I was like them and now I'm the envied one" she laughed shaking her head,

"It's really a strange thing, the fans think they know me and many envy what I have and you, they don't imagine how hard my job is," he said taking her hand, "And how heavy it can be for those who are with me constantly moving or paparazzi ", the woman kissed him, she didn't know what to say, still didn't know that side of her new life, they called their flight and moved towards the bus with the other passengers, a hostess led them in first class and served them Champagne,

"Thank you" said Y/N with a smile,

"If you need anything else, ring the bell," the girl replied politely before disappearing to welcome the other passengers, fastened her belt and checked phone, read family's last messages and said goodbye before turning it off, she had never heard this before. ready for something in her whole life, turned to Tom who was talking on the phone and smiled at him, the man squeezed her hand, ended the call and prepared to leave,

"I will miss home but I'm so glad you decided to follow me," he said, smiling at the woman,

"Home is where the heart resides" she replied, "And my heart is with you, I don't need four walls to be happy .. I need you" reached out to kiss him as the plane rolled on the track and realized it was true, she needed nothing just her man to stay healthy.

11 hours later she opened her eyes as the plane landed, fell asleep without realizing it,

"You're getting used to flying darling," Tom smiled, breaking his belt.

"I never would have thought it possible but yes" replied Y/N stretching and getting ready to go down, they retrieved the hand luggage from the hatbox, thanked the stewardesses and went to the terminal, Tom looked for a trolley while the woman watched the suitcases turn on the belt waiting to see their appearance, unlike the departure they were greeted by groups of fans waiting, the driver who was waiting for them had a sign with the name of Tom in plain sight, Y/N laughed and went to the driver with the cart while Tom was besieged signing autographs and taking pictures,

"Well arrived Miss, load the car," said professional,

"Thank you, we come right away," replied the woman, retracing her steps to reach Tom,

"Ok, ok, I did 11 hours of flight, if you calm down you will have all my attention" he was saying aloud raising his hands to calm the fans, his "armies" subsided instantly, the woman smiled and knew how much the Tom's voice could be hypnotic and fascinating, a few minutes later they were in the car,

"Does Mr. Hiddleston want to go to the set or take you home?" asked the driver before starting the engine,

"At home it's fine, thank you," Tom replied, squeezing the woman,

"I am amazed by how they calmed down as soon as you asked," Y/N said absently as he watched the view, "I thought it only worked for me," smiled tightly at him,

"Sometimes this thing amazes me too I admit it" he laughed relaxed, "I hope you like the accommodation, while we are here you could take a tour and see if there is any house of your taste, it could make us a nest," he said, the woman nodded was not a bad idea, Tom's work would make them go back to the studios often and having a place to call home and just hear it made her feel good, turned on the phone to warn that they had landed

¥ Guys all right, we arrived and we are going home ¥ she wrote merry

¥ We know ... the social networks were faster than you ¥ Roby replied posting the photos,

¥ And we also know that the flight was quiet .. ¥ Marco replied by posting a photo of the two of them sleeping on the plane,

¥ But what the hell ¥ Y/N couldn't understand about all that media coverage, ¥ Even during the trip ?! ¥ thy chatted for a while, the speech soon turned towards the upcoming wedding, it had just arrived and would be off again after a couple of days,

¥ I confirm that I will arrive in Athens on Thursday, see you in Skopelos on Friday? ¥ asked for confirmation, ignoring the renewed invitation to tour the city,

¥ Sure, place all ferry timetables and accommodation addresses! ¥ said Franc sending a link, the car stopped in front of a high gate surrounded by a fence.

A woman was waiting for them smiling, she didn't look like a real estate agent but rather a secretary, she went to the car

"Welcome" she said cheerfully leaning against the door, "Mister Hiddleston these are his schedule" handed him a folder "..and here are the house keys and the alarm code" concluded by giving him an envelope before saying goodbye and going up on the scooter to go back to the studios,

"I open the gate wait in the car," he said to Y/N, leaning the folder on the seat, the gate began to move, Tom climbed back into the car and entered the property, the woman looked at the garden with fascination, a row of low pink lilacs marked the sides of the driveway there was no trace of trees in the park only green grass and some lilacs used to delimit other areas, at the top of the avenue there was the house, it looked like a big cube, the roof was flat and surrounded by a fence the outer wall was stone with a large window in the center, the woman found her beautiful, preferred a more classic style but appreciated the stone, made it imposing and safe, even if she suspected that she could not enter anything without being noticed or reported, the cameras were everywhere hidden on the lampposts, between the vases, they descended from the car Y/N looked around, the fence hid from property all the property, a path led to the opposite side of the garden, would have all the tea I want to explore it when Tom was at work,

"Well come my queen," the man said, opening the door and making way for her, the interior was as bright as the outside, the glass reigned supreme, excluding the dividing walls the house was really an aquarium, the large windows opened on everything the park, the glossy white marble shone in the reflection of the windows, a sliding door at the end of the room gave access to the infinity pool surrounded by sun loungers and covered tables, looked out to admire the view, the house was built on the edge of the slope now he understood because they had used so much glass, no one could look inside unless they fly,

"What do you say?" the man asked hugging her, "Do you like it?"

"Thomas I am speechless this place is beautiful!" she replied turning to kiss him, "I'll have to get some sunglasses, as soon as I wake up all this light would kill me ... like vampires" laughed biting his neck,

"I make a couple of phone calls, finish the tour of the house I will reach you" the man said, opening the folder Y/N smiled to himself as wandered around the house, it would often happen that Tom isolated himself to work, opened a door in down the hall and followed the corridor to the kitchen, also with a large window in place of the wall that overlooked the valley below, it made her dizzy but she didn't notice anymore when she explored the room, it was her dream kitchen, super modern and equipped with all comforts, a mixed cooking oven, induction cooker, a panel touched the screen on the counter next to the burners and a menu was opened for the toast plate and the one for the waffles, touched the image of the second and a compartment of the counter moved to raise the plate, all the accessories were hidden, the woman was elated turned to the fridge and found in the ticket attached to the door

# The fridge is connected to the store, to do the shopping just write the code and send the list, purchases will be delivered within 2 hours #

the door lit up as soon as the woman touched it to open it, it became a sort of glass, she could see the empty interior of the fridge without opening it, she was astonished, immediately moved to the shopping list and made her first order, she wanted to have all the food necessary for at least a week even if the man would have lunch at work wanted the evening dinner to be perfect, returned to the room and went up the stairs, thought they would take them to the roof but found herself in the sleeping area, there were 4 more bedrooms the master one the privacy of the rooms was guaranteed by curtains of various thickness, the suitcases were placed on the bed, since Tom was busy he opened them and began to arrange the luggage, they had very few things with him, the man would have spent almost all of the time on the set and the woman had brought just a few changes in case she wanted to go and visit the city, put the only evening dresses in the closet checking that they hadn't spoiled during the trip but found them perfect, the secretary who had helped her was used to packing for Tom, retraced her steps and, not finding the man in the room, went out and walked around the house, the back garden was incredible, next to the pool there was a sort of fire pit, she had seen similar ones in the movies, the seat was full of cushions and protected by a glass firewall, on the opposite side there was a masonry bbq with a long wooden table and benches, it seemed to browse through a magazine, Tom was still on the phone with the script in his hand and gesturing, Y/N smiled and went into the kitchen to get a drink, the fridge was empty but the cellar was well stocked, luckily there were also some juices as well as wines from various vineyards, took two glasses and blueberry juice and reached the man,

"My king, how can you be so awake?" she asked sitting next to him,

"For me it is quite normal as a business trip and I have never suffered too much from the jet lag," he replied relaxedly, "Are you tired?"

"More than tired I would say out of tune, having slept in the plane I feel quite rested physically but for my head it is night ... I don't know if I have explained myself well" she smiled putting her head on the man's shoulder,

"I understand you quiet it is normal to feel so especially on the first long flight" he stroked her head, "I know what it takes to get better .." said, getting up and taking her hand, they started toward the pool, the woman stared at him suspiciously ,

"Now let's take these away ..." he said starting to undress her, Y/N smiled complicitly letting him do it, feeling his hands on her while she took off her clothes made her wake up immediately,

"... a friend on my first flight to America told me that the best way to combat jet lag ..." he whispered, taking her in his arms,

"What did he say?" she asked excitedly, Tom smiled before throwing her into the water,

"It's freezing!!I hate you Thomas," she replied laughing,

"He told me that a good swim is the best cure," he shouted, bursting out laughing in turn, "Is it better darling?" asked undressing to reach her,

"Freeze and wake up thanks" she laughed, spraying him, the man dived and stood beside her in an instant, he was a good swimmer

"It's not so cold," he said, hugging her, "The view is beautiful from the edge," he invited her to follow,

"I can see it from here too," she said, standing far from the sheer edge, the flight had tried enough with heights for a just one day, "Maybe another time Thomas" smiled, the man came back to her

"Won't you be afraid ?! You just did an ocean flight this is nothing in comparison "he teased her, squeezing it,

"I'm already admiring the most beautiful thing in the garden, I'm not interested in the landscape at the moment," she whispered before kissing him, anchoring herself to his sides, "I think of an isolated pond in France ... don't you?"

"Mmm, I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, biting her earlobe, moving toward the edge with his precious load,

"I probably remember correctly ..." the woman gasped, "... or maybe I was with someone else"

"My nymph confuses lovers?" he said accusingly kissing her neck as brushed her back against his nails, "And what happened in the lake of your memories?" asked curious, continuing to kiss and bite the woman's neck and shoulders , Y/N felt the man's hands caressing and holding her,

"I was taking a bath and a man appeared, the most beautiful I have ever seen and he joined me in the water .." she began to tell, panting, the man supported her without saying anything, "... he pushed me towards the rocks and he started kissing me .." immediately Tom moved towards the smooth edge of the pool leaning against her

"So?" he asked, ceasing to torture her for a second, "Then what happened?" looked at her straight in the eye, the woman kissed him and, following his game, began to tell how difficult it was to be taken by excitement,

"... he stroked me, I felt his nails on the skin ..." she said sliding her hand over his chest, going down to his abs, "... he kept kissing me until he got to the breast .. at that point he bit me .. "

"And you rebelled?" he asked before moving to her breasts and squeezing her nipples, the woman mewled

"... I would have liked but I liked what he did ..." answered stroking his cock gently, "I didn't want him to stop "

"..You are a little impudent nymph ..." Tom panted, scratching her thighs,

"..It's not my fault .. he subdued me with his eyes .." she smiled guilty feeling the hand of the man make his way between her legs, ".. he played with me .. when he put his fingers in my pussy it was late to rebel ..." said in a whisper, the man was circling her clit continuing to bite her neck, Y/N could not go on, was out of breath, trying to keep control while touching him,

"... continue darling .." Tom moaned, "... is it over?" asked, sliding his fingers inside her, moving slowly in every turn, favoring the rhythm dictated by the woman

"..Not .. I'm not sure .. I don't remember well" she panted

"Really?" the man asked, stopping, "..it's a real shame .." whispered, "Maybe I can help you .." slipped his fingers from her pussy and took her by the hips, Y/N rested her hands on the board arching enjoying Tom's cock penetrating her, "... do you think of anything? .." he asked, slamming it against the pool tiles,

"Maybe .." she mewled clinging to his shoulders, "... I remember his strong body fucking me ..." answered kissing him, she couldn't continue "... don't stop ... don't stop please ..." prayed as the man dogged her body with growing vigor, his cock digging into her with greater and greater rapidity, he kissed her passionately, taking her breath away, squeezing her legs you have the man's hips and he came choking the groans on his neck,

"..My beautiful nymph .." he panted on her skin, tightening and enjoying her, the two remained embraced, lost in each other's eyes,

"Passed the jet-lag honey?" the man asked kissing her, the woman nodded laughing, "Thank you princess for having me, I like playing with you, I love you and I love the joy with which you give me all of yourself" he said stroking her back,

"Oh Thomas I love when you take me that way, I love being able to be but when we make love" she smiled leaning against his chest, the sunset was a wonder seen from the garden, the air was cooled, the lights came on by themselves brighter as night fell, the couple came into the house, Y/N sat down comfortably on the large sofa and fell asleep while Tom was on the phone again,

"Darling later we have guests .." he said, returning to the room, smiled found her sleeping, took a blanket and covered the woman's naked body.

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getoutofthisplace · 6 years ago

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Dear Gus,

Today is my 37th birthday. What follows is the detailed account I posted to Facebook of how I spent the day, but I left out the part where after my meeting and before we started filming, I ducked into the conference room to see the Fayetteville engineers being introduced to the tinker kit the North Little Rock engineers opened up yesterday.

I wake up at the Courtyard Marriott in Fayetteville. It is dark. I reach for the bedside table and feel around for my phone, which lights up. My background image pictures Gus sitting in Liz’s lap. He looks older in the photo than he is in real life. Liz looks as beautiful as she is in real life. It’s 4:45am on the dot because that’s when Gus has been waking me up lately. It takes me a while to go back to sleep, but I think I finally crash at 5:30, and wake up to my alarm at 6:45. While I shower, I listen to The Cure Radio on my phone, which stops suddenly. I peek through the clear shower curtain to see that Liz is calling me. The music comes back when she hangs up. I dry off and call her back.

“Happy birthday!” she says. And then we talk about the sleep we got and didn’t get the night before. We talk about what Gus ate in the previous 24 hours. And while we talk I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to identify the differences in my body at 37 years old versus when I was in my 20s. I don’t remember my body from my 20s anymore. I try to convince myself I look exactly the same.

“Have a good day,” Liz says, “I love you.”

I get dressed and make my way downstairs to cash in my breakfast voucher for toast, bacon, fruit, and two eggs.

“How would you like your eggs cooked?” the woman behind the counter asks.

“Over-medium.” I used to ask for my eggs to be cooked over-easy, but it occurred to me last year that I have probably been ordering them that way out of habit for decades. I actually like my eggs cooked over-medium. The fascinating thing about this change in my egg order is that it hasn’t affected any change in the way my eggs are actually cooked. It turns out, most people in the kitchen don’t know how to make eggs over-medium. All of those egg orders never actually mattered, it seems. I was always going to get the same eggs, no matter the order.

I sit with Bryan Stafford and eat my breakfast while he drinks his coffee and we discuss an email we earlier that will likely mean we will soon head to Dallas to do what it is that we do. We work for a 100-year-old engineering firm that—among other things—pays us to make short videos. I write them, Bryan films them, and we direct them together. We’re a good team.

We drive over to the office and I make my rounds to say hello to the people I know and like in our Fayetteville office while Bryan unloads gear. I find an empty office and respond to emails. I run a quarterly conference call between the company’s 26 offices. Sometimes I worry that people are saying “Guy’s call is terrible. I dread it every quarter.” But I feel like if people are saying that, there is someone else close that will say, “At least he keeps it short.” On the call yesterday, though, I got worried the call would unravel when a lot of people wanted to spend time ribbing the guy in our Huntsville, Alabama office about the Clemson game. I am kind of proud of myself for steering the ship beyond that quickly.

I have another call at 10:45 about Bryan and I having to go to Dallas. We solidify our plans. After the call, Bryan and I don’t say anything to each other, and it occurs to me that we are both texting our respective wives about our impending absence.

“Liz isn’t going to like this,” I say.

“Yeah, my wife and I are sending our youngest to college and it looks like she’s going to get a little me-time in her first week with an empty nest.”

But in the end, our wives are very tolerant of our work's demands. They know who they married and how we operate.

“This is a really nice chair,” I say to Bryan. “I wish my chair in North Little Rock was this comfortable.” And then we stand up. We have a busy day.

While Bryan starts setting up for our afternoon video shoot, I take the elevator down to my truck. I need to dress our CEO up like a 15-year-old for the video. The night before, I picked him up a flat-billed Fayettechill hat, but I need to find him some kind of bright-colored jacket to complete his ensemble.

“Do you have any more of these in the back?” I ask a purple-haired girl at Hot Topic at the mall. “I need a medium, if you have it.” The jacket in question is covered in loud colors and Japanese logographs and appears to reference Dragonball Z. But when the girl comes back, she tells me they don’t have any more.

I find a store called The Geek Realms that looks like it will be gone in three weeks. Nothing is organized. “Hello,” a voice says from an unidentified place. I look around but don’t see anyone, so I simply respond loudly to a neverending rack of stickers in the middle of the store—“Hello.” I gravitate toward a clothing rack of hoodies. I find one that is an outer space print that says “I’m a dreamer” across the chest. I can’t decide if that one is better than the one that has a giant white lion’s face across the front. I buy them both.

I have 45 minutes to grab lunch before I’m due back to the office for another meeting. I want sushi. I go to Kobe, a Japanese place across the street from my hotel and bypass the line at the host stand to sit at the bar. I order the chirashi bowl and a water, and I try to order food to-go for Bryan and Laura, but the server says I can order it when I’m halfway finished with my meal. I am in a hurry and want to order it immediately so I don’t have to wait later, but I don’t insist. I don't want to be an asshole. I trust the server knows what she’s doing.

The chirashi is really good. I order Bryan the teriyaki chicken and Laura a chicken avocado salad. I pay my tab and finish my meal. The to-go orders aren’t ready yet. I have to wait. I am going to be late to my meeting with the three most powerful leaders at my place of employment. The server tells me the kitchen got slammed and so things are taking longer than normal. I make a mental note to insist that I order when I want to the next time I’m in this situation. If this were a major restaurant chain, I would start preparing my email to them.

I beat two of the three executives to my meeting, even though I'm a few minutes late. The meeting goes well, but it runs long and I worry our video shoot is going to run long. I worry we won’t be able to finish tonight and I’ll have to spend another night in Fayetteville. But we eventually start filming and it is fun to see the script I wrote come to life.

Everyone has to fight the urge to laugh on camera because we are doing something fun and funny. Our CEO is wearing the white lion hoodie. These are the days when I love my job.

We wrap up around 4:30pm. I sit down to my laptop and respond to emails while Bryan starts packing up gear. Our CEO usually leaves the costume items I buy for him, but after he changes clothes this time, he doubles back to grab the hat, the outer space shirt, and the white lion hoodie. It makes me laugh to think that he liked those clothes, that he might one day wear them in the future. Also, I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t get to keep that hoodie.

I say goodbye to Bryan, who will stay in Fayetteville another night to accompany his son to orientation at the university in the morning. I take the elevator down to my truck and head toward the interstate back to North Little Rock.

Liz calls. She has just picked up Gus from school. I can hear him in the background. She was worried I’d be late, but for the past month we’ve been sharing our locations with each other via our phones. She checked it and was relieved to see my little dot is on the road home. She asks if she should plan on me being home for dinner, but I tell her I’ll grab something on the way.

I end up at a place called Crosswoods just off the interstate in Clarksville. The restaurant’s website showcased bright photos and referenced the chef by name, but when I got there, it looked like a strip club from the outside. Inside, there are pool tables and two men at the bar, one of whom is wearing orange camouflage. I sit down at the bar beside the video crack machine and the puffy-faced 22-year-old dude behind the bar says, “Can I help you?” in a way that suggests he gained his hospitality industry training while pouring concrete for the new local motel.

Before I arrived, I planned to order a salad, but upon seeing the place, I feel like the "chef" is probably best suited to prepare meat and potatoes, so I order a steak with twice baked potatoes. For my second side, I ask the puffy-faced kid what he likes, to which he replies, “The green beans are pretty good,” so I go with that.

Duke and Wake Forest are on the television. The man in the camouflage hat asks me who my team is, and I tell him the Little Rock Trojans. The man said his dad had graduated from UALR, but he likes the Razorbacks. “Everybody does,” I say. The man lived in North Little Rock a long time ago, but then he moved to Pope County, and now he’s been in Johnson County for 22 or 23 years. He looks at the puffy-faced kid who is handing him another Busch can--unopened, strangely--and the man in camouflage says, “Long enough to want to leave, but too long to actually do it, you know. Nothing to do here.” I nod in some kind of false solidarity.

I pay my bill and walk out. No one says anything to me. I finish disc 10 of 13 of my audiobook of Watership Down just as I roll into the Shell station in Park Hill, a couple of miles from my house. It is just after 8pm and I can barely keep my eyes open. I go to bed before 9pm these days.

When I pull into the driveway, I turn the truck off and sit in silence for a few seconds. I am tired. I walk in the front door, my dog Suki meets me immediately and gyrates with excitement. The house is quiet, Liz has already put Gus to bed. She’s on the couch studying. I let Suki out the back door and kiss Liz. “Happy birthday,” she tells me again. I unpack my bag and brush my teeth.

“Are you going to bed?” Liz asks.

“I think so,” I say. And I walk to our bedroom, lie down in bed, make a couple of moves in the Open Face Chinese Poker game I play for a quarter a point against my cousin John and my friend Barrett, and I fall asleep quickly. This is who I am at 37 years old.

Dad

Fayetteville, Arkansas. 1.8.2019 - 1.46pm.

#37 #birthday #sam bush #stem #tinker kit #work #engineering #ethan dudley #garver chain reaction #domino effect

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ohnominamino · 7 years ago

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Expectations

This fic was created in response to the Rare Fanfiction Challenge hosted by @yyhfanfiction, for the category "Canon female-centric expansion." I might've failed, since this story is still all about Kurama, but I tried.

Summary: Spending the day with her first grandchild leads Shiori to reflect on her son's childhood. He never did act the way she'd anticipated-- until now.

Kurama was not the type to be frazzled. He’d had thousands of years to perfect his patience and was certain little in the world could upset or surprise him. When he’d announced he and his significant other were expecting their first child, his human family and work colleagues had been thrilled. Much of their congratulations had come with words of advice, playful warnings and comments like, “Oh, I can’t wait to see what Shuuichi looks like on 3 hours of sleep.” Kurama had taken it all in good humor, dismissing the words that doubted his ability to keep his head.

Truthfully, he had been somewhat worried -- not so much about sleep, considering his acting skills were above par and he could survive 3 solid days without rest -- but being a parent was a new and frightening concept.

His wife’s rounded stomach, sonograms, and other pieces of evidence aside, Kurama hadn’t accepted the reality of being a father until the wrapped bundle of Kouichi Minamino was placed in his arms; the "kou" from light, paired with the "ichi" from Shuuichi. The baby had been small, bald, eyes screwed up tight in his wrinkly face. A perfectly healthy boy, fragile and precious in the way human infants were. His feelings of gratitude and joy were interrupted by the arrival of his best friend.

“He’s not cute at all. What gives?”

Yusuke had not been allowed to hold Kouichi that day, 11 months ago.

Babies grow fast. Kurama hadn’t been prepared for that. Unable to roll over one day, crawling on four legs then wobbling around on two the next. Kouichi’s development made Kurama painfully aware of all the overthinking he’d done as Shiori’s child and he feared she would notice the differences too. Kouichi was normal.

Shiori loved to spend time with her grandson, but Kurama often kept their visits brief. Each time he cut their bonding short or took Kouichi home early with excuses, the guilt ate away at him. Shiori offered mutiple times to babysit him, insisting they take him out of that expensive daycare and let him stay at grandma’s, but Kurama refused. He knew he was being selfish.

It was with great reluctance that he called his mother one morning in March. The daycare was closed. His wife was away attending a professional development workshop and he had a huge deal to close at work, so bringing Kouichi along wasn’t an option. He had no choice. He apologized into the receiver, “Mother, I’m sorry to ask last minute, but could you watch Kouichi today?”

When Shiori opened the front door, she knew Shuuichi was having a difficult morning. His hair was out of place, diaper bag slung across one shoulder, half open, Kouichi strapped to his front with his right sock missing. The baby switched from playing with his free toes to pulling at his father’s necktie. Shiori leaned forward to kiss Shuuichi's cheek and say, "Good morning," simultaneously plucking the tie out of the baby’s fingers as he went to put it in his mouth. She distracted him with the next kiss, square on the top of his soft red hair.

"Good morning, mother." Shuuichi stepped into the genkan gratefully, unloading his belongings and his child. "Thank you for having Kouichi over today. I can't believe they closed his daycare."

"The flu is serious for little ones. I'd rather they take the precaution." She took her grandchild with a smile. He grabbed onto her braid. "Besides, it's my pleasure to watch him. I'd watch him every day if you let me."

"I couldn't ask that of you." He looked pained at the thought. She never could figure out why.

Shuuichi checked for drool on his blouse, smoothed down his clothes and hair, then let out a long groan.

“What?”

“I forgot my laptop.”

“Do you need it?”

“Yes, I forgot to upload my presentation to the shared drive last night.” He heaved a sigh. “I need to run. I’ll be back around 6.”

“Good luck, dear.”

Shuuichi was out the door without a proper goodbye to either her or his son, which she would’ve scolded him for under any other circumstances. Single parenting did not become him. Shiori propped Kouichi higher onto her hip and looked down to meet his large green eyes. He smiled up at her. “You are too cute.” She kissed him again on the forehead. “What shall we do today?” His gigged answer was music to her ears.

Kouichi was so easy to make happy, the opposite of his father when he was little.

Shiori remembered being a young mother, the uncertainty of everything she did, the never-ending lectures on childraising she’d received from well-meaning aunts and neighbors. Do this, do that, don’t do what so-and-so did, you want your son to turn out right, right?

She and Kenjiro had done exactly as everyone told them, but Shuuichi did not develop like they said he would. As a baby he rarely cried, but he also rarely smiled, and while he leap over some developmental milestones, he fell terribly behind on others. Shiori and Kenjiro could see in his eyes how clever he was, knew he had a high level of comprehension, but at two and a half years old, he did not speak many words.

The pediatrician told them not to worry. Gifted children often saved their words until they knew exactly what they wanted to say. He might suddenly start speaking in full sentences one day soon.

Soon, the doctor had said, and as if he understood those words to be permission, Shuuichi woke her up the next morning with, “Mama, I’m hungry. Can we make pancakes?”

She’d pulled him into a tight hug, kissed his face, and marched them right into the kitchen.

Shiori did not know how long it would take Kouichi to find his words, but he seemed fine sharing the ones he knew before they were correct. He babbled nonsensically at her as she sorted through his diaper bag to see what Shuuichi had remembered to pack. He was already calling her, “Baabaa!”

Shiori found a second pair of socks and put them on the baby. He waddled through the living room, occasionally balancing himself on furniture. She watched him affectionately. It took him about two minutes to start knocking things off the coffee table. She followed him, picking up the mess, and scooped him up just before he started pulling books off the bookshelf. The photo albums were at his eye level. She pulled one out at random, and sat with Kouichi on the couch. “These are pictures from when your dad was small.” She explained.

She couldn’t tell if Kouichi understood, but it was easy for him to turn the thick pages, and he pointed enthusiastically at each person. “Da?”

“That’s Grandpa Kenjiro.”

“Da?”

“That’s your daddy.”

“Da?”

“That’s me, Baabaa.” She pointed to herself.

The last photo in the album was of Shuuichi’s first undoukai. He was dressed in his sports uniform, looking into the camera’s lens with a bored expression. He’d changed so much since then! It was strange to think that Shuuichi had once been that way, introverted and too-serious for his age.

Shiori closed the album and put it back with the others. It had been ages since she’d gone through them. Looking at the faces of loved ones she’d lost, and seeing her son look like he’d rather be anywhere else, had broken her heart many times over when she was grieving Kenjiro’s death. Now, it felt less raw. She could actually smile at the memories.

She retrieved a proper baby book from the diaper bag and gave that to Kouichi, her mind wandering to the past and the hurdle that was Shuuichi entering school. He’d been a good boy, had listened wonderfully to his teachers’ directions and done the work they’d asked of him, but he’d refused to interact with other children. His kindergarten teachers said he was shy, his first grade teacher said he was quiet, and his second grade teacher said he was brilliant, but emotionally stunted. Kenjiro hated hearing anything negative about his son. It wasn’t Shuuichi’s fault the other kids in his class weren’t on his level, he’d ranted.

Her mother-in-law, who lived in another prefecture and rarely came to visit, had said Shuuichi’s lack of social skills were concerning. His cousins had lots of friends, how could he not make a single one? She blamed Shiori for not pushing him and scolded Kenjiro for his lack of discipline. She suggested he might do better in a mixed age extracurricular, so they put him into martial arts classes, and as expected, he performed perfectly, but did not make friends.

Shiori did not have her own mother to seek advice from; she’d died of breast cancer when Shiori was 14, and her father, while he’d done his best raising her, was a quiet man who kept his opinions to himself. He died when Shuuichi was 7. A few short years later, Kenjiro was in a fatal accident. The life insurance wasn’t much, and she'd had to start working to pay the mortgage, their living expenses, Shuuichi’s school fees…

It felt like drowning.

Just as she thought she’d grabbed ahold of a rescue line in the form of Kazuya, she got sick.

“Baabaa!” Kouichi’s voice returned her to the present moment. He was waving the book at her. She accepted it, and he crawled into her lap, leaning back against her chest and warming her heart as she read to him. She’d drown a thousand times if it meant having her life now, her second family and this grandchild.

They read the book, ate snack, and dressed for the outdoors. On the wall alongside the coat closet was a framed photo from Shuuichi’s wedding day. He was smiling, happiness in his eyes, surrounded by their family and his closest friends.

She’d gotten sick, then a miracle happened. Shuuichi made friends. They hadn’t been the sort she’d imagine he’d associate with, but she didn’t care what the other mothers in town said, those boys were angels, and they grew up to be fine young men. She’d heard Yusuke and Keiko were expecting a child. She hoped their baby would be as good a friend to Kouichi as Yusuke was to Shuuichi.

“Baabaa!” Kouichi called her again. He couldn't reach the door handle by himself.

He was a miracle too.

Shiori enjoyed the rest of the day with her grandson. The weather was unseasonably beautiful. They went to the park and played in the sand. On the way home, Kouichi fell asleep in his sling, and Shiori kept him close while she prepped lunch. Shuuichi hadn’t packed any food in the diaper bag, so she made her own choices: cut up apple, edamame, and soft spiral pasta. Kouichi ate half of it when he woke up, threw the other half on the floor. They walked around the backyard and the old garden Shuuichi had planted. Kouichi had a second nap. Throughout the day, Shiori took too many pictures on her smartphone.

It was evening and they were playing stacking blocks when the front door opened, keys jingling loudly in the genkan. She sang out, “Okaerinasai!”

Kouichi tried, but only managed, “Oooosai!”

Two voices returned tired, “Tadaima.”

Kazuya shuffled into the living room first, and she forgave him for going straight to Kouichi, “Kou-kun, grandpa’s home!” Kouichi immediately abandoned his blocks for hugs, lifting his arms to be picked up. It was amazing how the little boy’s presence restored Kazuya’s depleted energy.

“How’d the meeting go today?” Shiori asked when her son joined them.

“Good.” He answered. “Signed the contract. How was Kouichi?”

“Wonderful.” She said as Kazuya passed Shuuichi the baby with a high pitched, “Yay, daddy!”

Shuuichi accepted his child, but he was clearly at a loss for what to do next. Shiori laughed.

He looked at her incredulously, “What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” She tried biting back her grin, “You’re finally acting like I anticipated.”

His brow furrowed.

She hurried to explain, “Don’t take it the wrong way, it’s only that, since the day you were born, I had all these ideas about how you’d grow and you always surprised me, did things your own way. Now that you’re a father, you’ve surprised me by being, well, exactly as I expected.”

Shuuichi looked down at Kouichi, who immediately went to grab his father’s nose. He pulled his head back, lowering the baby in his arms to save his face. Shiori laughed again.

“You’re just as clueless as I was.” She closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around her son and grandson. “I love you, Shuuichi.”

“I love you too, mother.” He seemed to soften. “By the way, the daycare called and said they will be closed the rest of the week. I could take Kouichi to work tomorrow—”

“Nonsense. An office is no place for a baby. He belongs at grandma’s house.”

“Thank you.”

She suspected he’d be on his way soon, but she tried to keep them longer. “Will you stay for dinner?”

He surprised her again with his answer. “We’d love to.”

On the train home that night, Kurama made peace with relinquishing control. In the past it’d been a triumph of sorts, keeping secrets from his mother. He’d managed to hide an entire other life from her. It was foolish to think she hadn’t noticed. It’d been obvious from the start her son was different than the other neighborhood boys, but she had loved and cared for him just the same. Patient and kind, a mother who’d given him everything. If he had taken the chance of raising a normal child from her, the very least he could do was give her Kouichi in return.

The baby was asleep, eyelashes long and dark against his rosy cheeks. His head was cradled in the sling, face half pressed to Kurama’s chest. He could feel the drool seeping through his collared shirt. Kouichi was cute, and while Kurama couldn’t judge brains yet-- the kid put shoes in his mouth-- he thought his son had a good disposition. He’d be a good grandchild, someone who could make Shiori proud. She sorely deserved that kind of happiness.

It wasn’t right to keep this child away from her. As she’d said, he had no idea what he was doing. No new parent really did. It was okay to rely on her. He wasn’t burdening her.

He was finally doing something right.

The daycare had been his idea. He was sure his wife wouldn’t mind withdrawing.

#yyh #yu yu hakusho #kurama #shuuichi minamino #my fics #oneshot

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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years ago

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ESC

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore, but I know I ain't apologizin' for nothin'. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and OF COURSE @hardcorewwetrash. Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains brief mentions of ticks and scabies, as well as human muzzling of a non-BDSM variety and allusions to previous abuse.]

Heyman’s Delights was, at its heart, a traveling circus. There were tents, a few acrobats and strongmen, fire-breathers. Paul had been trying for ages to get his hands on something a little more exciting, and it seemed like he’d finally managed it.

For one reason or another, there were people in the world deemed unfit for regular society. Usually displaying extreme aggression or overly predatory tendencies at an early age, they would put an incredible strain on loving parents and concerned siblings until tensions snapped. All roads tended to lead to Heyman’s Delights or other such traveling shows for these individuals.

The thing that boiled your blood was the fact that they were nowhere close to as inhuman as they were made out to be. Most of them could easily be suffering from hormonal imbalances or other undiagnosed issues. But due in part to the media hysteria (there had been an incident involving one such ‘feral’ child getting their friends to remove their school-mandatory muzzle so they could spook the teacher) and also in part to what you could only assume was parents that didn’t want or couldn’t afford another child, people were clamoring left and right to surrender their ‘feral’ children to various state-funded programs.

And if the government wouldn’t take them…might as well make a buck or two getting rid of your problem. If you could live with yourself afterwards.

“Bought them off of another one of those local shows. According to their owner Wolf was nineteen when he came into their possession, government releases them when they’re legal adults and no parent wants their kid back when they're like that. He’s unsure on Beast.” Paul Heyman sighed, a little heavier than you expected. “Vince threw Wolf in for free, said he didn’t need one without the other. But he hasn’t been trained as much as I was led to believe at first and he’s past thirty. This bleeding-heart altruism is punching holes in my pockets faster than I can line them.” He rubbed his temples. “We’ll just have to see what we can do, I suppose.” Recognizing the dismissal, you nodded and stood with the rest of your coworkers.

You had seen the photos of Beast, he appeared to come with a set of fine cauliflower ears. It wasn’t rare to stumble upon underground bare-knuckle rings where the dregs of society would bet money on the so-called ‘ferals’. Common belief was that they were subhuman, more resilient to pain, stronger, stupid. Hyper-aggressive outbursts tended to be calmed via distraction, dangled food or cattle prods the only two options you'd witnessed in person. Thousands of videos existed on the internet of 'ferals' silently devouring cheap microwave burritos or gas station hot dogs, fresh blood still dripping off their faces. Even more videos were shaky camera footage of the abuse, the prods or beatings.

No one seemed to make the connection that since most of them were sold off or surrendered young, they never got the chance to develop like normal children. Instead they were used as amusements, poked and prodded through the bars until a reaction was obtained. Then, John Q. Public would move on to the next thing, heart rate up and laughing with his friends about how he “wasn’t scared at all!”

You had signed on with Heyman a few years back, literally running away to join the circus. You were sick of being in one place, a stuffy room sandwiched between other stuffy rooms in a building that seemed all but abandoned by your landlord. Paul warned you that the work would be hard, the pay would be garbage and that you would more than likely have to sleep in a tent. You’d just nodded and signed your name, happy to accept all those shortcomings in exchange for the variety of a traveling life.

Heyman quickly seemed to realize that you were no quitter. Despite everything he threw at you, you carried on doggedly unloading and loading the trucks town after town. Your persistence had been a thorn in your side at every other job you’d had, but here it appeared to finally be useful. Paul would go to you for tasks that needed to be completed and you saw to it, simple as that.

His new acquisitions needed new housing so you, English and Gotch spent a good portion of the day putting together a sturdy cage for them. According to Heyman, they were currently kept in wooden crates with the barest slats in them for viewing. “I want my beasts to be able to stretch and move!” He instructed the three of you. Gotch just nodded, letting English gush about the genius of Paul Heyman while handing you a scrap of lumber to cover the bars. Aiden English was a kiss-ass through and through but he was also a classically-trained thespian, able to easily adopt any role pushed upon him. Not to mention the singing. Simon Gotch was very much the classic circus strongman. Like something straight from P.T. Barnum’s era, he had the mustache, the one-strap singlet, and the boisterous laugh of a man out of time.

You sat astride the bars of the roof, silently staring at the beams of lumber. “Hey, I was uh…I was thinking, maybe instead of wood, we should have a cloth roof? I mean, the two of them will be boxed up when we travel.” You suggested. “It would let in a little more light for them, and it’s not like we can’t just put a piece of plywood over it if it rains.”

“What, like a sheet?” Paul squinted at the roof for a minute. “I don’t see the harm in it. Saves me from buying another box of screws. The bars are still there.”

From your perch on the roof, you caught sight of a dingy van trundling along the road towards your campsite. There was a small trailer attached to the van. “And here comes the cavalry.” English muttered to Gotch, who nodded grimly. You studiously avoided looking up while Heyman moved to greet the van’s driver and gather up his new prizes. English tossed an old, tattered blue tablecloth to you and you wove it in between the bars of the cage, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles so it would lay flat.

You were in the middle of securing the sheet down to the sides of the cage when there was a loud, high-pitched roar from the trailer. An angry snarl followed, the two ‘ferals’ obviously not pleased with their surroundings. You swallowed hard as the full gravity of your predicament hit you. The whole caravan was being put to the test by the new acquisitions. If either of them got loose or something to that effect...

You squared your shoulders after a minute. You weren’t about to be scared off by a little noise. You had done your research, determined to see them as the people that they were and not the monsters they were always made into.

“Come over here and meet your new charges, boys! You too, sweetheart!” You rolled your eyes at Paul but obediently swung down from the cage and dusted yourself off, following the other two men to stand by Heyman. “This is Mr. Vince McMahon, he’s the gentleman parting with these fine specimens.” Paul continued, flattering the old man who appeared to have the leathery skin of an alligator.

You extended a hand to Mr. McMahon, cringing inwardly when he scooped your palm up and pressed it to his lips. “Enchanté.” His voice reminded you of an alligator as well, raspy. French was obviously not a familiar language to him. He released your hand after what felt like an eternity and you resisted the urge to wipe it off on your dirty overalls while he shook hands with Gotch and English. “It pains me to see these boys go.” He patted the side of the tiny trailer and then flinched back when the whole thing rocked. There was a thud like something had fallen over. “Whups, sounds like they’re roughhousing again. Guess I’d better uh…” Vince fumbled around under the front seat of the van before tugging out a cattle prod. “They were shock-trained, of course.”

“Of course.” Heyman echoed. You caught English and Gotch's worried looks at one another out of the corner of your eye. At least you weren’t the only one sure Paul was in over his head here.

“Sir, if we could…maybe not rile them up just yet?” You said quietly. “My associates and I would like to see the size of them, make sure our enclosure will be sufficient.” That was a bold-faced lie of course, and you felt more than saw English staring at you incredulously.

There was a loud whiffle of breath from the trailer. One of them was scenting the air. You wondered how terrifying this must be for them, trapped in a tight, dark space that moved and rattled uneasily. “Of course, they’re all yours. They’re secured and separated by a wall, naturally.” Vince unlocked the back of the trailer and swing the doors out. “Never know what they might do.” He chuckled, his laughter quickly dying off as the inside of the trailer was revealed.

It appeared that the separating wall had buckled or shifted during the transit. Or was pulled down. The hulking blond Beast barreled towards the open doors from the rear of the trailer. You didn’t even have time to think, body frozen on the spot.

A colorfully-marked arm abruptly hitched around Beast’s midsection, halting him in his tracks bare inches away from you and giving you an up-close look at the blond's strangely-phallic chest tattoo. “Shit, Beast!” Vince shouted, sounding more irritated than scared. “Knock it off!” The blond snapped and thrashed, struggling against the one you could only assume was Wolf. “You want to get zapped again, you piss-poor freak? Get back!” Vince brandished the cattle prod, making Beast snarl loudly in reply. “That’s right, you know what this does! So cool it!”

Wolf took Beast back a step, but then Beast lashed out with a vicious elbow and broke free. You dimly noticed the loose end of his chain trailing along behind him on the floor before Beast sent you crashing to the ground, the back of your head slamming into the dirt with a vicious impact. Your vision swam with reflex tears and you grimaced in pain, scared stiff as Beast pinned you with his body weight and screamed in Vince's direction over your head.

Something suddenly plowed into Beast’s side, throwing the blond off of you. Vince caught Beast in the ribs with the cattle prod, continuing to holler abuse. Wolf stared down at you and you stared back up, wishing you could stop shaking. His hair was matted and overgrown, hanging in his face. All you could make out was a pair of brown eyes studying you warily. You swallowed after a minute and his eyes tracked the motion, watching the way your throat moved before snapping back up to your face. “Hello?” You tried, flinching when a smile flashed through that thick hair.

“H-Hi.” He sounded almost shy, his voice deep and a little shaky. Definitely not what you’d been expecting. He tilted his head and then retreated cautiously back into the trailer, sitting at the edge and watching as Beast ate a few more volts.

You sat up slowly and English was instantly at your side, looking panicked. “Oh my goodness, how are you still conscious?!” He sputtered.

“Just my rotten luck, I guess.” You grunted, rubbing the back of your head. “Jesus.”

“There you are, see? Gentle as a lamb.” Vince panted, standing over the cowering Beast. “Now I’ve got to be going, so if we could move this process along…”

…

Paul had definitely bitten off more than he could chew. All Wolf seemed to want to do was sleep, and Beast delighted in tormenting the other man through the bars of their cage. The original plan had been to display them to the public in an enclosure they could interact with each other in, but Beast ceaselessly savaged Wolf until Paul put a sturdy divider in their cage.

Beast quickly became Heyman’s favorite, due to how he paced and scared off the bravest of souls by screaming and lunging to the bars at the most random of times. He was the picture of crazed animal, all froth and fury. Paul loved it.

Wolf would wake up out of his sleep at mealtimes, usually offering you a grunt, sometimes a “hi” if he was in a generous mood. You stayed to talk at he and Beast as they ate, Beast snarling into his food. You had lost most of your fear from Beast knocking you down, understanding that he had probably just gone for the first shot at freedom that he saw and it was unfortunate circumstance that you stood in his way. You had jokingly appointed yourself as head of feral nutrition, knowing that if you avoided Beast because he had scared you, you would never get past the incident mentally. It helped that there hadn't really been any competition for the position either.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened the day you came to be with us, Beast.” You said hesitantly one night. It wasn’t fair that they were kept in tiny cages, even if Beast seemed like the mauling type. You didn't think your own sanity or temper would hold up well under the duress of constant captivity, especially if you were crammed into a sardine can with someone you didn't like.

Wolf looked up at you curiously when you began talking, 'hmm'ing in his throat and then returning to his food.

“Just like everyone else.” Beast had never spoken before. You hadn’t been sure that he could. Tiny blue eyes narrowed at you over his plate. You knew that staring only made the person doing it look stupid, but you couldn’t help it. “You think you’re the first one to sit here an’ fuckin’ talk to me like this? Fuck you.” He muttered. “Fuck your boss too.”

“Brock-” Wolf sounded like he was about to protest but Beast stuck a hand through the bars between them, grabbed a fistful of matted hair and yanked.

“Shut the hell up, freak.”

“Hey, stop it! Why do you always push him around?” You asked indignantly, getting to your feet.

Beast mimicked your motion inside the enclosure, gripping the bars until his knuckles whitened. “He’s weak, that’s why.” He spat. “That’s the only reason I need, asshole.”

“I think I preferred when you were doing your strong-silent act.” You retorted.

“I could have ripped you apart and escaped. But this-” Beast’s face reddened angrily as he searched for the word. “-dumbshit just had to play hero. What, were you worried?” He asked Wolf mockingly.

“Don’t like getting prodded.” Wolf mumbled. “The lightning hurts like tch-zark!” He clicked his teeth and tongue in a weird imitation of a lightning strike. “Scares you too, dick.”

“Fuck you.”

“They don’t use the prods. I…I know you’re not happy, m’ not happy either but at least they’re not hurting us.” Wolf pointed out. “I’ll hurt people if they let me go, that’s what everyone always said. So I’m being good.”

Beast gritted his teeth. “Don’t give a shit what you do, idiot.”

Wolf rolled his eyes and then fixed his attention on you. “Dumb request.” He began slowly. “Need a bath. A-Ask Heyman, maybe we can work something out? A hose, tub?”

You nodded. “Absolutely, I’ll do what I can.”

Wolf smiled briefly. “Thank you. Don’t listen to him.” Beast clocked him upside the head and Wolf grunted. “You talk to us like people. It’s nice.” He continued after shaking off the blow.

“Why wouldn’t I talk to you like…you are people.” You pointed out.

“You know what I mean.” Wolf looked sad and Beast stormed off to the other end of his enclosure, clearly done with the conversation. “Most people act like we’re dumb or like we can’t understand them.”

“I don’t understand any of this garbage.” You tugged at your hair, a little frustrated. “We get told when we're young that if you’re a ‘feral’, it’s obvious because you’re bigger and dumber than the other kids. Like that’s an actual diagnosis, you’re just a crazy, hyper-aggressive child. You’ll try to bite or lash out, your parents will have to give you up because you’re a danger to society. But you guys...” You gestured at Beast. “He sounds almost totally normal. Obviously the whole wild thing is a sulky charade for him.”

“My parents surrendered me when I was six. I tore a piece off the doorframe and then I tried to bite my dad because he came at me with a knife.” Wolf said haltingly. “S’why I don’t talk so good. Nobody outside the complex I was in cared all that much about what we were doing. What mattered was we were away from them.” His voice grew more sure as he spoke. “Sometimes the older guys, y’know, kids that had actually been to school, would teach us. There was this huge kid we called Hacksaw because the story went that he’d ripped clean out of every single thing his parents had secured him in and they’d had no choice but to give him up. He was the teacher most of the time, he had a loud voice and he was bigger.” Wolf grinned. “Dumb as hell though.”

“Was Beast with you there?” You asked, getting an angry huff of ‘no’ out of the pacing blond.

Wolf shook his head. “Met Brock for the first time in McMahon’s pony show.” He glanced over at the other man. “He’s not that bad, except for most of the time. Vince enjoyed having him bust me open when I was misbehaving. I acted like I would bite, started laughing. Vince didn't like that.”

“It was business, dumbshit.” Brock grumbled. “If I went after you, McMahon would ease up.”

“There used to be more at Vince’s. A smaller guy named Neville. Big ears. Then there was Moxley. He'd get the rages. And Samson, played the guitar sometimes. They all escaped one night. Dunno’ what happened to them, they just up and vanished.” Wolf seemed to be sinking back into a funk, slumping down against the bars of his prison.

“Hey, easy. Look, I'll go talk with Paul and get your bath squared away, okay?” You patted his hand through the cage.

“M' name is Baron. What my parents called me, anyhow.” Wolf raised his eyes to yours. “I can't forget that. Please.”

“Okay. Baron.” You said softly.

…

When he was soaking wet Baron appeared decidedly less threatening. “It just grows so fast.” He had mumbled through the muzzle Paul insisted he needed to wear, wincing every time he found another tangle with the old comb. You had given him a trim to the best of your abilities once he was finished washing up and he looked miles better when you were done.

“You have a nose! And it's a nice one, too!” You had said in mock surprise, getting a snort out of Brock while you unbuckled the muzzle and pulled it back through the bars.

Baron had worked his jaw for a minute then graced you with a real smile. “Thanks.”

As you laid in your sleeping bag late that night, your thoughts kept returning to the young man in his cage. His parents had surrendered him at six. Your heart ached. What would it be like to go through most of your life being told over and over that you were the problem?

You were startled out of your musings by a rustling noise and you sat up in your tent when the flap slid open. It was just Adrian, one of the acrobats. He pressed a finger to his lips and you nodded, a little confused as he crowded into your tent. “Had t' talk with you.” His normally cool British accent sounded more clipped for some reason. “I've seen ya' spending time with the ferals.”

“I talk with Brock and Baron, yes.” You winced. “Mostly Baron, Brock isn't much one for conversation.”

“He never was.” Adrian muttered cryptically. “Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I'm not sure how they'd react to seeing me. But if at some point you could maybe...ah, I dunno', let it slip into a conversation that everyone still cares, I'd greatly appreciate it.” Adrian touched your shoulder, his eyes searching your own. “They don't deserve this life. You and I both know this. Can I trust you to deliver the message?”

“Adrian, what...”

“Hey, this is important. They're people, not fucking attractions. You have to promise me.” Adrian pleaded. “Get the message to Baron. Tell him that, tell him three days.”

“Everyone still cares, three days. Got it.” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What the heck does that even mean?”

“He'll know.” Adrian hugged you tightly. “I have to go. Don't want Gotch to talk.” He joked, his body language much more tense than you would care for.

Sleep didn’t come easily after Adrian left. You stared up at the ceiling of your tent, thinking. Everyone still cares, three days. It must be some kind of code, you reasoned. What does it mean, though? Why can’t Adrian tell them himself? You scooted down further in your sleeping bag.

When daylight finally began creeping through the fabric of your tent, you quietly eased the zipper open and slunk across the camp to Brock and Baron’s cage.

“Early for breakfast.” Brock commented idly when you were within earshot. You ignored him, moving to Baron and shaking him awake through the bars. Baron grunted and rolled over, yawning widely.

“Hey, listen to me.” You said, keeping your voice soft. Baron nodded sleepily. “Somebody wanted me to tell you this: Everyone still cares, three days.”

Brock’s fingers were around your throat before you realized he was moving, the large man dragging you in to knock your head against the bars of their enclosure. “Brock!” Baron cried. You gasped for breath as Baron tugged and pulled at Brock’s arm. But Brock didn’t even seem to notice. He looked purple with rage.

“Who told you that?” He hissed.

“Brock stop it, you’re gonna’ get us prodded! They can’t breathe!” Baron said frantically. “You have to let them go before something bad happens again!” You made a choking noise and it seemed to whip Baron into a higher frenzy, his fingers clawing at Brock’s arm hard enough to draw blood. “Wolf will bite!” He snapped his teeth loudly, like a warning shot.

Brock just scoffed at him. “Wolf, my ass!”

“Wolf bite!” Baron sank his teeth into Brock’s thigh and jerked his head to the side, making Brock scream angrily and swat at him.

“Hey!” Heyman’s sharp yell interrupted the scuffle. Brock quickly released you and you stumbled back from the cage, wheezing as air flooded your lungs. “What the hell is going on here?!” Baron hadn’t stopped chewing on Brock’s thigh, ignoring the blows that rained down on his head. Brock started slamming his leg against the bars, cracking the metal into the back of Baron’s busy jaw.

You reached back into the cage and touched Baron’s hair. “Baron.” You said shakily. “Hey, Baron. Baron shh, you can stop. It’s okay.”

Baron snarled into Brock’s skin but you kept petting his hair, kept whispering and he finally eased off enough for Brock to pull away. Baron’s chest heaved, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. He still seemed furious, his brows drawn into a tight scowl as he panted for breath and jittered restlessly under your touch.

Heyman approached cautiously once it appeared you had Baron under control. “You mind explaining to me what just happened?” He blustered.

“Heard…heard something. Woke me up.” You lied quickly. “They were fighting so I tried to…tried to stop them.”

“You’re crazy, getting between two ferals?!” Paul was practically shrieking at this point, jabbing a finger at Baron. “Look what he did to Beast! You're wearing a muzzle for the foreseeable future, Wolf!” Baron flung himself against the wall of the cage, yelling nonsense and trying his hardest to get a hold of Heyman. His long arms fell just short though and he finally collapsed in a heap, curling up in the corner. “Now that that's over with.” Paul huffed, looking somewhat shaken.

“Mr. Heyman, please-” You began to protest but Paul carried on over you.

“No, I'm firm on this one! He's a menace and I want him fully muzzled. Liquid diet.” Heyman insisted, smoothing out the remainder of his hair. “That's an order!”

Baron just huddled tighter, flinching away when Brock reached through the bars to harass him.

English and Gotch ended up muzzling him. You couldn't do it.

You loaded the truck by yourself as a trade-off, hefting rolled tents and wheeling boxes up the ramp with a dolly. When it came time to board up the walls of the enclosure for travel Baron didn't so much as look at you, wrapping himself in a hole-riddled blanket.

“Three days.” Brock muttered, bumping his forehead against the planks. “Three fucking days, Baron.”

“Dun' care.” Baron slurred through the muzzle. Gotch had strapped it too tightly around his jaw but he wouldn't let you fix it. “All I do'shurt. Destherve thith.”

“Oh please, you ain't never had a set of balls before. Then they show up and all of a sudden it's 'Wolf bite!'” Brock taunted, slapping his shorts over the bandaged area. “You went for paydirt, you cocksucker.”

“Were gonna' hur'them n' we'd ge' zapped.” Baron shuddered, gripping the blanket tighter and staring at his knees. “S'bad.”

“Brock, stop bothering him, please.” You said softly. Brock snorted but sat down in the opposite corner, tilting his head back and watching while you slid the roof boards into place.

“Three days.”

The trek to the new fairground was a long one. When the group stopped for dinner, you went to remove Baron's muzzle so he could eat. But he flinched away. “Mr. He’m’n said I gotta' wear'it, 'member?” He grunted.

“I don't want you to wear it.” You replied angrily. “You didn't do anything wrong, it's not like you were trying to strangle me!” You raised your voice so Brock would hear you, narrowing your eyes in his direction.

“Dun' wanna' get in trouble.” Drool trickled out of the bottom of the muzzle. “Tha' smells good though. S'it fries? I lo' fries. Oh...shit, ugh, stop.” He tried to wipe off his chin with the bottom of his ragged shirt. “Nooo, c'mon, s'gross.” He groaned.

“Yes it's fries. A burger, too. You want it?” You waved the wrapper in front of his face and watched his pupils dilate. “Gotta' take that off if you want to eat the probably-meat.” You sang.

Baron whined, tugging at the bottom of the muzzle. “Wanna’.”

You reached out and weaseled the buckle loose, quickly pulling the muzzle down over his chin. Baron glanced fearfully over at Brock, who rolled his eyes. “Are you even serious right now? Just eat the fucking burger, idiot.” He grunted, already well on his way through his second sandwich.

You tore chunks off the burger and handed them to Baron. He had a habit of bolting his food if you gave it to him all at once. Brock started watching you feed the other man, his brow furrowed like he was thinking hard. You ignored him and continued to slip one fry at a time through the bars, Baron humming quietly as he ate.

“Why?” Brock muttered finally. You looked up at him. “Why the fuck didn't you say something about me? I know the idiot is your favorite. You could have told your boss I went after you first. Don't tell me you didn't want to get me in trouble or some bullshit.”

“I knew how that would have ended.” You replied simply. “Mr. Heyman is incredibly emotional. He would have flown off the handle. Just like everyone else on this damn planet, he's fine as long as you two are ripping each other apart. But as soon as a 'regular' person gets involved?” You shook your head. “There was no good way to resolve that. So I lied.”

“But-”

“Look, out of all the people I might owe an explanation for something, you are the absolute last on that list.” You snapped, getting to your feet. “If anything, I think you owe me an explanation for losing your mind over some dumb thing that I was told to say. Haven't you ever heard of 'don't shoot the messenger'?”

“Sounds dumb.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Fuck you too, buddy.” Brock just chuckled.

Baron, seeming a bit more at ease now that his stomach was full, waited patiently while you re-buckled his muzzle (correctly this time). He bumped the metal mesh into your forehead, his sleepy smile doing odd things to your stomach. “Thanks for keeping us from getting prodded. This isn't too bad. Sorry I was such a baby about it this morning.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes. “It's not right. I don't want you to wear it, but I don't want you to get in trouble either. I don't know what to do, Baron.” You whispered.

“It's okay.” Baron reached through the bars and awkwardly patted your shoulder. “Don't worry about me. Three days, y'know.”

“What does that even mean, what’s three days?”

“Nothing.” Brock said sharply, shooting Baron a fierce look.

…

You found out what it meant three nights later, when you were woken out of a deep slumber by someone tripping over one of the guy lines on your tent. The muffled swear that followed startled you to fully alert because it was a voice you didn't recognize. Who...? Curiosity won over self-preservation and once the footsteps faded away you quickly slipped out of your tent.

A flash of light from over by Brock and Baron's enclosure caught your attention. There was a quiet clatter, the sound of metal on metal. “Easy now, cool it Brock.” That was Adrian's voice. “Don't botch this, big guy.”

“Great job, getting hired as a fuckin' acrobat.” That voice belonged to the person who had tripped over your tent. “You always were the flexible one, Nev.”

“We'll have plenty of time for you to pat him on the back once I'm free.” Brock growled.

“I can't leave.” Baron mumbled. You had to strain your ears to hear him even as you snuck closer.

“Bar we don't...look man, I know everyone says you're a danger. We got a guy to help with that now. I promise, we're going to get you to some people who can make you safe.” You caught sight of a thinner man with a mop of light, curly hair, shimmying in place beside the cage door. Next to him was Adrian, who had a pack slung over his shoulder. Further off in the shadows you could barely make out a third figure.

Brock slid out through the cage door, taking a deep breath of air. “I'm not waiting around for you to sass Moxley and Mighty Mouse.” He snapped at Baron. You had to snort at the apt nickname for Adrian.

“Fine, go with Samson, Brock.” The man who you assumed was Moxley jerked his chin in the direction of the man on the edge of the parking lot. “We'll catch up.” Brock didn't wait around, bolting for the trees. “Great to see that confinement has only improved his shit attitude.” Moxley grumbled.

“Bar, you can't stay here. Paul will think you had something to do with it.” Adrian pointed out gently.

Baron hung his head. “You remember what I did, Nev. I deserve-”

Moxley undid his muzzle and pulled it off, chucking it to one side. “What any of us woulda' done, stop beatin' y'self up about it.” He scolded.

Baron tugged the cage door half-closed. “No, I'm staying. I can take it.”

“Baron?” You quietly called his name, taking a step forward.

Moxley whirled, his whole body alert. Adrian relaxed when he realized who you were, patting Moxley on the shoulder. “Easy. They're a friend.”

“Skulkin' son'uva, Jesus.” Moxley put a hand on his chest.

“Why won't you go with them?” You asked Baron, who refused to meet your eyes. “Hey...” You pushed the cage door open a little wider so you could enter the cage. “Baron?”

“You don't get it, I'm dangerous.” Baron mumbled. “I'll hurt people.”

“Yeah?” You circled around him, scoffing. “Like when you ripped me to pieces right out of your trailer? Oh yeah, that didn't happen. Like you did when I was cutting your hair? Oh that's right, you didn't. Earlier this week, when I hand-fed you and you graciously let me keep my fingers?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You're pretty bad at hurting people.”

“You-! You're different, alright?” Baron exploded. “You talked to me, talked to Brock. Even if we didn't talk back. You weren't scared. I wasn't an animal to you.”

“If you go with your friends you don't have to be an animal ever again.” You reasoned with him, a plan coming together in your mind when he shook his head stubbornly. “Listen, I'm at least going to give you a hug, okay? Seeing as how I'm not allowed to be in here with you and Mr. Heyman probably won't be too keen on keeping you around when he wakes up to his Beast gone.” You hugged Baron tightly and he stood there, stock-still like he didn’t know what to do. “Run.” You whispered, and when you pulled away you shoved him backwards with all your strength. He stumbled out of the cage and you quickly shut the door behind him, hearing the lock click with a sound of finality.

“No!” Baron grabbed the bars and shook them in a futile effort. “What the hell are you doing?!” Baron asked incredulously, brushing Neville’s hand off when the smaller man tugged at his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Baron. Go on.” You mustered up a brave smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, okay?”

“I’m not leaving you like this.” Baron rested his forehead on the bars. “I don't want to.” His voice cracked.

“You have'ta. There isn’t another option.” Moxley whispered. It seemed the commotion hadn’t gone unnoticed, lights clicking on in the various tents and cars. “We gotta' go, Baron. I toldja', there’s people that can help you where we’re going. If we don’t leave now, the rest of the crew will be caught and I know you don’t want that shit on your conscience.”

You took Baron’s hands and brought them to your lips for a moment, then gently pushed him away. “Go on.” You urged. “I’ll buy you guys some time.”

“We won’t forget this kindness.” Adrian murmured, squeezing your hand while Baron grimaced. “C’mon Bar, we have to move.”

You sank into a crouch as flashlight beams began to crisscross the parking lot. Adrian melted into the shadows with Baron and Moxley in tow. You listened to their retreating footsteps, fighting back the urge to cry. You heard Heyman and Gotch hollering to each other and you squared your shoulders, exhaling in a bracing burst. Any extra seconds you could give the little group to escape would probably be beneficial.

Time to see if you could hold up under stress. If Paul wanted an angry feral, he'd sure as hell get one.

A flashlight shone in your eyes and you snapped your teeth, sticking an arm through the bars to swipe at whoever was holding it. “Whoa! Easy, what the fuck?” Simon backed up out of reach and then shone the light over your head, his face going pale as he took in the lack of residents in the cage. “Oh no. Oh no.” He breathed. You managed to grab his leg and he yelled in fear, flailing and falling over in his effort to escape your grasp. “Help! Help! English they’ve gone feral!”

You continued to snarl and paw at his leg. The longer you kept his attention, the more likely it was that someone else would help him instead of running off into the woods.

“Simon!” Aiden cried, ever the drama king as he valiantly pulled the other man out of reach of your deadly fingers. “What's wrong with you?! Mr. Heyman, come quick!”

…

You hadn't realized how much the muzzle would cut into your jaw if you moved wrong, but you were finding out pretty quickly. You hadn't realized how small the enclosure truly was. You hadn't realized how drastic the emotional and physical toll of being labeled an attraction was. Now you understood why Baron slept all the time, or why Brock would play up to the crowd.

If you didn't scare people away they would mob and heckle until you had to lash out, just to get five minutes of peace. No one wanted to see a 'feral' that looked like it was about to burst into tears. No one wanted to feel sympathy for something like what you were pretending to be.

It was worth it, you thought as you paced and did your best at imitating Brock's infuriated screaming. Their safety depended on you keeping up the act. Paul hadn't been too upset at losing the two 'ferals' or Adrian, quickly realizing that you were a hell of a lot easier to feed and transport than Brock and Baron. Not to mention he could market you as the first 'turned feral', like you'd been transformed into a crazed beast from too much time spent alone with the 'ferals'.

It took a little work, of course. You didn't have the added 'benefits' of rapid hair growth or other such issues to depend on so you ended up improvising with more noises and rumpled hair. You ripped the sheet covering the roof to pieces, scattering it around the cage to give the place a den-like appearance. Your collar was Baron's old one so it was enormous, jingling around your neck when you darted to the bars and swiped viciously at the people who got too close. You didn't talk, flat-out refused honestly, and Paul gave up questioning you after a few tries.

English usually brought your food, pushing it within reach with a stick and then fleeing quickly. Gotch was the one in charge of boarding up the enclosure when the caravan set out and he did it all while watching you nervously.

A weird feeling of loneliness slowly crept in as time marched on. No one attempted to talk to you after Heyman, your days were spent either in the darkness of travel or in the wild hysteria of being a freak. It took its toll on you as fall chilled the air and the leaves changed colors.

Sleep became your solace. In your dreams you were no longer caged; you slept in a soft, comfortable bed instead of a pile of tattered blankets. Baron would come to you, all big brown eyes and gentle noises in his throat as he held you close and kept you warm. Waking up was the worst part of your day. You always woke up tense now, wary and shivering while your breath frosted in the air.

It was hard not to listen to the things people said. The insults they hurled or terrible jokes they made more often than not added a little real fury to your act. It was bad enough that they would say those things to you. You could only imagine what Baron and Brock might have heard in their time as attractions.

Then there was the day where a young man dumped his soda on you. It was already cold out and now you were wet and sticky, on top of everything else. You grabbed him and slammed his head against the bars, screaming in his face like the beast you were supposed to be. You got grim satisfaction from seeing him cry, a grown man reduced to a sniveling mess. But all the satisfaction in the world couldn’t dry you off or make you less sticky.

There was no dinner for you that night because you had acted out. You curled up in your ragged bundle of thin blankets once Simon clumsily muzzled you and tried to ignore the rumbling of your stomach, feeling disgusting and lower than you’d ever been. Tears welled up in your eyes and you cried for the first time in ages, shivering and hiccupping pitifully.

“This ain’t exactly what I had in mind for a darin’ rescue.” Moxley’s rough voice by your head startled you and you barely kept from screaming in surprise. You bolted to the side of the cage and were greeted by the sight of Moxley and Baron.

Baron looked distraught, his fists clenched tight. “Who has the keys?” He asked, his tone harsh. You made a noise in your throat, reaching out desperately to touch him. Baron leaned closer, letting you cup his jaw. “What the hell did they do to you?” He whispered, his own fingers tracing the twisted-up straps of your muzzle.

“Get them out of that fuckin’ shit Corbin. We need the keys.” Moxley said curtly.

Baron slowly loosened the straps around your head, trying not to catch your hair in the process. The leather dragged against the scraped areas on the back of your jaw and you groaned in pain. Large hands ghosted over the abraded skin. “Shit, you’re raw. I’m sorry, would have been more careful.” Baron apologized.

“Heyman.” You rasped, your voice dry from disuse. “Heyman has keys.”

“Well fuck him.” Moxley shrugged, picking something off the bottom of his boot. “What do you think, Baron?”

“He’s mine.” Baron snarled, pushing away from the cage.

Moxley winked at you once Baron had stormed off. “He’s been an absolute wreck since we got word of a ‘turned feral’. Guy was chompin’ at the bit, we all figured it was you but he was losing his damn mind. Should have brought Nev for the door, he didn’t wanna’ wait. Now we gotta’ do this the old-fashioned way.”

You were totally overwhelmed by what was going on, sinking into a kneeling position.

Moxley made a noise of sympathy, petting your sticky hair. “It’s alright. You’re gonna’ be safe now.” He assured you. “We won’t leave you here. He won’t leave you here.” You whimpered and rested your forehead against the bars, barely able to comprehend it. He came back. Moxley seemed to understand your reaction, continuing to just pat your head. “I can’t believe that you’ve been in this cage the whole time. You’ve lived regular, you ain’t like us where you grew up in that shit. How did you even handle it?”

“If I couldn’t talk, they couldn’t ask me questions.” You mumbled. Keys jangled loudly and you turned around, confused at first when you saw Heyman at the cage door. You squinted and realized Baron had a firm grip on his arm, standing behind him in the shadows.

“Open it, fucker.” Baron snarled. Paul looked a little worse for the wear, his striped pajamas mussed and missing a few buttons. You got the feeling Baron hadn’t woken him up gently. “You have three seconds.”

“This is illegal, I’ll have you know.” Paul blustered. “Intimidating a-”

“No, what’s illegal is what I’ll fucking do to you if you don’t open the fucking cage.” Baron interrupted him, his grip tightening. “They’re not a feral, you’ve been keeping them locked up like a damn animal. I fail to see how the fucking law is going to be on your side here. Now open. The. Door.”

“Y-You’re not…” Paul trailed off when you shook your head.

“So if you let them go, we’ll just take them and be on our way. No muss, no fuss.” Moxley made his presence known, ambling to stand by Heyman. “Or…we can do this the hard way.” He had a wicked smile on his face. “Your choice.”

“N-No, I don’t want any trouble. I’ll j-just--” Paul dropped the keys twice in his haste to obey, finally unlocking the cage. “If I had known-”

“-You would have gotten everything you could out of them and then thrown them to the goddamn wolves. Get back into bed.” Baron shoved Heyman in the direction of his trailer. “You never saw us. Breathe a word and we’ll find you.” He threatened.

The night suddenly seemed brighter, the fall air crisp and clean in your lungs. “Can you walk? We have to move.” Moxley said hurriedly. You nodded jerkily, scrubbing your hands over your face to wake yourself up a bit. “Samson is in the next town over, we have shortcuts. Let’s go.”

Fingers twined through your own and you looked down at Baron’s hand, confused. “So we don’t lose you in the woods.” The large man explained, tugging you along behind him.

“Oh.” You hadn’t realized you were crying with relief until your breath hitched in your chest.

Baron grunted when he felt you shiver, quickly stripping off his hoodie and bundling you into it. “Better?” He asked worriedly, tying the hood strings so they held snugly beneath your chin. You nodded, letting him wipe your eyes with one of the sleeves. Baron’s smile still made that odd feeling flare up in your stomach. “Cool.”

“You talk more.” You pointed out as the three of you slipped through the foliage.

“Elias makes me sing with him so I can sound normal.” Baron grumbled while Moxley snickered. “Stupid Samson, forcing me to sing ‘Country Roads’.”

“I bet you sound good.”

“Better than him, anyhow.” Baron pointed to Moxley, who immediately stopped snickering. “Roadkill sings better than him.”

“Damn Corb, why you gotta’ smack-talk the roadkill?”

“Good thing we weren’t going for stealth, idiots.” Said a new voice through the trees.

“Elias! Shit, I must be sprinting, I thought we were still a ways off from the road.” Moxley apologized, pulling bushes to one side so Baron could haul you up an embankment to the road.

“How many times you done this?” The bearded man scolded, pulling open the sliding door of a van parked on the side of the road. “We’re lucky, man. Get in before something dumb happens.”

Baron easily lifted you into the vehicle, climbing in behind you. “Sit down.” He muttered, grunting when you wrapped your arms around him instead. “Oh. What?” He asked curiously, patting your back carefully. “Shh, there there. That’s the thing, right?”

“Yeah, you’re a natural buddy.” Elias laughed from the driver’s seat. “Christ.”

“I thought-”

“Don’t listen to him, man. You’re doing fine. Rub little circles. They’re…it’s--uh, anxiety. Yeah. They need contact right now.” Moxley bluffed, winking at you before strapping on his seat belt.

You flushed as Baron instantly pressed his whole body to your own, arms tightly enfolding you in an embrace. “I’ll help you.” He sounded so determined. “We’re gonna’ get you a shower. A real nice one, with hot water and soap. You’re all sticky, what happened?”

“Baron has volunteered to be your sponsor to help you readjust to normal life. We tried to explain that you weren’t like us but he was…very determined.” Elias said wryly. “So he’ll be sharing his bunk space with you.”

“Gonna’ take care of you like Mox and Nev took care of me.” Baron reassured you.

“Yeah, you’re uh…you’re in good hands.” Moxley seemed to be fighting off laughter. You had the feeling that you were in for a odd time of it, but you were so relieved to be free you couldn’t help giggling hysterically into Baron’s chest.

He came back.

…

Baron was disappointed when you didn’t let him shower with you, he had apparently become very fond of hot showers after years of nothing but sponge baths or dealing with communal bathing areas.

“Neville had to help me wash my hair, I don’t want you to miss anything.” He said worriedly, his shirt already pulled over his head.

You quickly assured him you would be fine. “I’ll let you look me over once I’m clean, deal?” He nodded seriously and proceeded to sit on the floor, inches from the raggedy shower curtain. You coughed. “Um, Baron, I kinda’ need to…”

“Oh!” He shut his eyes, covering them for good measure. “You’re safe. I won’t peek.”

“You’d better not.” You hurriedly peeled your dirty clothes off and got into the shower. As much as you’d like the company while you washed up, you weren’t sure how he viewed you. Were you just someone who had been kind to him? Or were you something more? Either way, it would hardly be fair for you to dump an emotional bombshell on him in the shower.

Your mind wandered, wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin as you scrubbed off the dried soda coating your arms and hair. There was no harm in thinking about it, was there?

Baron gave you your towel once you were done, waiting until you stepped out of the shower to get to his feet. He began carefully checking you over, clicking his tongue sympathetically at the raw-rubbed areas on your neck and behind your jaw. Baron then traced his fingers around your hairline. “Ticks.” He said by way of explanation when you gave him a confused look. “Because you’ve been sleeping outside.” Your whole body shuddered involuntarily. “Nev says to check the hairline, they hide behind the ears, armpits.” Baron paused for a minute. “Groin. Any um…any crevices, really.” He mumbled, taking a step back and clearing his throat. “So I’ll just…go. And get your…um…clothes, yeah, and you can give yourself a once-over. Moxley says I need to give you your privacy.”

You ripped the towel off once he’d left, panicking. You hadn’t noticed anything while you were showering, but you’d also been distracted. You ran your hands over your thighs, relieved when you felt no lurking intruders. You went up your stomach, checking your sides. You cupped your breasts and were about to move on, then…

In retrospect you realized that maybe screaming wasn’t the best course of action as it summoned Baron with alarming speed. “What?!” He took in the sight of you standing there naked, and carefully put down the bundle of clothes he’d been carrying. “You found one?” His voice was weirdly calm.

You just nodded, your lower lip starting to quiver.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He soothed. “Where is it?” You gestured at the side of your right breast, where the fiendish bloodsucker had taken up residence. Baron muttered something that sounded like of course, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling momentarily. “Alright, can I touch you? I’ve got one of those tick pullers on my keys.” He pulled your towel up and draped it over your shoulder, like he was attempting to preserve your modesty. “You don’t need to cry, s’okay. I’ll take it off and Regal can fix you up with meds if you get sick. Brock had a bunch of ticks on his butt, he got really sick but he’s fine now.”

You laughed through your tears at the mental image of Brock enduring someone pulling ticks off of his rear. You were incredibly embarrassed at your body’s response to Baron touching your chest, his motions all business as he carefully cupped your breast and held the skin tight so he could use the small tool. It still somehow stirred a reaction in your belly, even with you quietly freaking out about Lyme disease or a thousand other issues you could get from the little bastard embedded in your skin.

“Got it. Okay. You should wash that with soap and then get dressed. I’ll put this little fuck in a baggy, we’ll head to Regal.” Baron’s voice was still strangely calm, the low sound grounding you.

“Thank you. M’sorry.” You managed to hiccup. “So gross.”

Baron burst out laughing, surprising the hell out of you. “You had one tick-” He sputtered finally. “If you’ve got a strong stomach, you oughta’ ask Regal how many times they had to delouse me. He wanted to shave my head it was so bad.” Baron continued to snicker, making your indignant knee-jerk reaction peter out.

“Oh excuse me for not being graced by the scabies fairy.” You retorted while quickly pulling on your clothes.

“I’d cry if you’d had those.” Baron said bluntly. “Doc Regal gave us his monthly presentation for newbies on all the shit he’s seen and I about lost my lunch.”

…

“He’s quite smitten with you, you know.” William Regal said offhandedly as he counted medications and jotted something down on his notepad.

“Excuse me?” You asked, flustered.

The doctor (“How many times do I have to tell you Baron, I’m a pharmacist.”) looked up at you, one eyebrow raised. “Come now, you can’t be serious.” His tone was chiding. “You haven’t noticed?”

“W-Well-” You twiddled your fingers and Regal rolled his eyes.

“He was only here for a few days before he came to me about the odd dreams he had. You were a rather large part of them. He was having difficulty establishing a foothold in reality when it came to your place in his dreams.” Regal folded his hands, his face Bond-villain severe. “Baron grew very attached to you during his brief period with Heyman’s Delights. He says you were the only person who would even interact with he and Brock. He mentioned an incident when Brock lashed out at you and he bit Brock ‘with everything he had’ because you were in danger.”

“I just stroked his hair and tried to talk quiet to him. I didn’t want him to get hurt.” You recalled.

“It apparently made a lasting impression. His dreams, as with most so-called ‘ferals’ when they gain freedom, were of a sexual nature. But he mentioned the petting happened almost every time, like you were soothing him back to sleep. He found it calming but he had a difficult time waking from something like that.” William shrugged.

You wished you could vanish into the floor, your body hot and cold all at once. Baron chose that moment to make his appearance, knocking on the door before pushing it open. “Hey.” He greeted you warmly. “All set with the doc? I have your bunk made up.”

Regal exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Baron-”

“Sorry, sorry! You all set with the pharmacist?” Baron rephrased his question. “I didn’t even know that was a word until last month, you’d think he would cut me some slack.” He stage-whispered to you as he ushered you out of the makeshift office. “So you’re gonna’ be in the bunk next to me in the orange trailer. Orange trailer is the one that’s mine. Neville said I could have it if I fixed the roof, and that wasn’t even a big deal.” Baron continued proudly, “Moxley says I’m great at fixing things, he comes to me with trailers all the time and I get them squared away.”

“You do upholstery too?” You teased.

“No, Mr. Styles is the sheriff around here. He upholds the law and a whole bunch of other things. I just fix stuff.” Baron didn’t seem to understand why you were laughing so hard, grinning uncertainly. “I um. I have a couple of documentaries we can watch, if you feel up to it. Not much in the way of entertainment around here but I guess that’s why we move so much.”

“Documentaries?”

“Yeah! Elias found me some old wolf ones. He says most of the information is inacc…in…uh, not right anymore, but I just like watching the wolves.”

The VCR made a terrifying noise when Baron fed it the tape later on, squealing and sputtering for a moment before the grainy footage began. You sat up and watched with Baron for a little while, his rapt expression one of the most adorable things you’d ever witnessed.

You reached out and began to stroke his hair. He didn’t even seem to notice at first, his attention entirely on the documentary. Little noises bubbled from his throat every time one of the wolves howled. You slipped behind him and tugged him back against you, Baron moving absently as he remained glued to the television. You dug your fingers into his scalp and that he noticed, if the whimper of “ah!” was any indicator. You continued your ministrations and his head lolled back on your shoulder “What are you doin’?” He asked thickly. “I love petting. Gonna' make me get hard.”

“Oh?” You dragged your fingers down through his hair, relishing the deep groan that came from his chest. “What would I have to do if I get you hard?”

Baron stared up at you, his brow furrowed. “Well, you wouldn't have to do anythin'.” He said finally. “If...I mean, if we're talking about what I'd want you to do, I'd...um, I'd like it if you'd...if you'd pet me. Below the belt.” His voice had dropped to an embarrassed mumble. “On my cock.”

You slid a hand down his torso and started playing with the zipper on his jeans.

Baron swallowed, covering your hand with his own after a second and rolling his cock up against your palm. “Do you feel me through that?” He asked, moaning softly when you nodded. “M' hard, you did that because you like me, right? Like how I like you. So you did what you know I like?” You nuzzled your face into his neck and pressed yourself tightly to his back, nodding shyly. Your fingers pulled down his zipper and Baron whined, muscles in his thighs flexing nervously. “Yes.” He gasped when you wrapped your hand around his cock. “Oh! Fuck--”

“Regal said you had dreams about me.” You whispered, loving the cute flush that quickly reddened his neck. “Good dreams.”

“Y-Yeah.” Baron admitted, cradling your face against his own while his cock twitched in your hand. “Just look at me. Want you, want to touch you all over. Make you happy.” He took a deep breath, seeming like he was gathering up his courage. “Sit on me and I can touch you if you want?” He said in a rush. “Please?” The begging note in his voice was what did it for you. You licked his ear playfully and he shivered, growling when you continued to mouth over the sensitive skin. “Ah, fuck, please-”

You slid out from behind him and he quickly grabbed you around the waist, easily settling you into his lap. His cock rubbed against the damp spot on your pajama pants and you blushed when Baron pressed two fingers to the area, teasing your clit.

“Like that?” He asked softly, “You feel good here, right?” His other hand slipped into your pajama bottoms to cup your ass, urging you to roll against his cock. “Here, right here. With me.” You dug your fingers into his hair again and pulled, making him snarl loudly. “Ah, can't do that, not fair. I'll fuck you sideways.” Baron warned, chuckling when you repeated the motion. “I'll do it. Better watch it.”

“Yeah yeah, big talk.” You stuck your tongue out at him and were surprised when he leaned in and captured it. Baron kissed with his teeth more than his lips, nipping at your tongue and licking hungrily into your mouth like he was devouring you. You grabbed at the neck of his shirt as he prodded his cock against you over and over, dry-humping you roughly. “B-Baron please--”

“Inside? Didn't know if you...” Baron paused as you stood up to drop your pajama bottoms and kick them over the side of his bunk. “I...Oh.”

“Please?” Now it was your turn to beg, sinking back into his lap and rubbing your soaking wet pussy over his cock.

Baron's eyes narrowing was the only warning you got before he lifted you bodily and pressed your back to the wall. “Yes.” His teeth snapped loudly at the end of the word, hard cock prodding up against you. “You're wet for me, you're wet for me and you're going to have me, you already do but now you can have all of me.” He said firmly, his forehead touching yours as he slowly entered you. “Told you I'd fuck you sideways.”

“I dunno' if this--counts as--sideways.” You managed to gasp.

Baron spread your legs a little wider, his pace erratic as he fucked you. He kept making sounds that went straight to your groin, helpless whimpers and growls pouring out of him when you pulled his hair and scratched down his back. “More.” It was a demand, it was a plea, gritted between his teeth as he thrust furiously into you. “Touch me, touch me, touch me God dammit-” He swore, words finally seeming to fail him as you swept his hair to the side and started nipping his shoulder.

The noises he carried on with wreaked havoc on your arousal, low-frequency rumbling in his chest seeming to roll through your whole body. You tensed up and Baron choked out a breath, obviously relishing the new sensation as he picked up his pace. “Coming-” You sobbed, gripping his shoulders tightly.

Baron's words came flooding back. “Yes do it do it want it-” He rambled, breaking his rhythm to sheathe his cock fully then move you back to his bunk. “No more sideways fucking, want you to come, want you to come.” He urged, smoothing the hair back from your face and pinning your hips down with his own. “Come for me come for me come for me-” You arched up beneath him as you came apart and Baron's forehead pressed to the hollow of your throat, your skin muffling his cry of “good!” when he came a second later. “Good.” He sighed again, his breath washing over your throat. “Good.”

You nodded tiredly in agreement, starting to comb through his hair with your fingers.

“Ugh, so good.” Baron groaned, nuzzling the thrumming pulse point beneath your ear. “Yes, yes.”

“Shh, I know.” You kissed his forehead, loving the way he stretched and preened over you before settling onto his side.

“Come here.” Baron demanded, pulling you back into his arms. You laid your cheek on the tattooed heart, feeling the lightning trip of his heartbeat slowly start to even back out. After a second Baron started stroking over your hair hesitantly, like he wasn't sure if you liked it or not. “You make me feel so good.” He said softly. “Not just this stuff. Always.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head up to look at him and he nodded solemnly. “I'm glad, then.”

“I hope you'll stay. Y'know, with us. Me.” He mumbled when you were almost asleep, his thumb sliding over the raw patch behind your jaw. “Me an' Nev an' Mox an' 'Lias, we got a lot of work t' do...”

Part Two

#Baron Corbin #baron corbin smut #baron corbin/female reader #feral!Baron #thirst party saturday #this somehow got really long #wwe #wrestlers without the wrestling #Wrestle!AU: Feral Peril #behold all my weaknesses in one post #enjoy!#Baron's Bitches #(in case any of you were interested)

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remysinnerchicken · 7 years ago

Text

A New Chapter

College sounds fake. The stories are everywhere online, from nightmare roommates to party horror stories to the constant reassurance that it will be the best four years of your life. There are tricks and tips on how to make your dorm room cozy plastered all over Buzzfeed and supposedly life-saving hacks for when you have to finally brave those communal bathrooms. Naturally, for an anxiety-ridden incoming freshman, those articles are eaten up with unabashed ferver.

However, what those articles fail to mention is that, while there are similarities, art school in the big city is a whole separate genre of fake. Roommates are still game of Russian Roulette, and the meal plans are still too damn expensive to be necessary, but there was something different about a school made up entirely of artists. Which, for Charlie Vega, was both a blessing and curse the moment she stepped foot on campus.

"This is campus?" Mike spoke up as he eyed the two buildings kiddie-corner from each other.

"There are other buildings around, but yes," Charlie quietly defended, "It isn't exactly green rolling hills, is it?"

"Where do you go to ditch class?" He raised an eyebrow, plastering himself to the window to try and scope literally anything out.

She shrugged awkwardly, "Pike's Place, I guess?"

"She isn't going to be ditching class," Their mother spoke up with an eyeroll, still trying to maneuver her way into the alley for car unloading, "Not when we're paying 50 thousand dollars a year."

He shook his head with a laugh, "Jesus Christ, kid. That much for singing and dancing classes?"

"You went to trade school for music in L.A., I'm not sure you have much of a position to judge from," She argued.

"I'm not judging you," He waved his hand casually, "I'm judging your pretentious school." His eyes scanned the now bustling alleyway and smiled at a woman in a bright colored shirt who had two large rolling bins with her. They exchanged nods and he got out of the car, ushering his sister to do the same.

The two emptied the tiny car's contents into the bins, Mike making small talk with the upperclassman helping out. She lead the two into a parking garage where people in a shirt just like hers stood beside bins just like theirs with freshman that looked anxious just like Charlie. She pointed to a tall Hawaiin man in a purple bandana, telling them to go "stand with him, he'll get you up the elevator."

By the time they had gotten to the eighth floor, Charlie was nearly reeling. The doors dinged open and she was greeted by a loud, excited voice.

"Hi!" The woman nearly sang, "You must be Charlie! I have your card for your room and a few papers for you to look over and hand back to me later tonight." She shoved the contents into her dazed hands and beamed like a million suns all fused together, "Go check out your room!"

Charlie took a second, realizing for the first time in thirty minutes where she actually was. She took a step back, eyes sweeping the doors in the hall and finding the one that belonged to her, just the second door down. She read Charlie and internally cringed, having forgotten to mention that little name switch to her family before they came. She looked back to the excited woman, finding her just watching with anticipation. She smiled awkwardly and went to her door, pressing the keycard to the reader and falling against the door as it opened.

"I made it," She announced loudly as she entered. She looked up to find her roommate, having stopped dead in her tracks the moment the door opened, and her two moms.

"So, you're... Charlotte?" One of the mothers asked.

"Charlie," She corrected, ignoring the way her skin crawled as she was acutely aware of her brother behind her. She came fully into the room, emptying the bins with shaking hands so that Mike could bring them back out to the loud woman.

"I'm Riley," Her roommate finally spoke up once Mike had come back. She stepped to the middle of the room, holding out her hand to Charlie.

She watched her wearily before shaking her hand, "Good to put a face to the texts."

"Same," She smiled before going back to organizing her side of the room.

"Alright, Charmander, you want to make your bed and start setting up or do you want to wait for mom?" Mike asked, sitting in the desk chair provided.

"Let's just wait," She answered quietly.

For what felt like hours but could have only been twenty minutes at most, Mike and Charlie sat and watched as the Winters set up Riley's half of the room. Every so often, one of her moms would strike up conversation, which Charlie tried to continue but her smiles were tight and her looks were fleeting. Eventually, the two women recognized how uncomfortable the girl was and left her alone, holding nothing but empathy for the anxiety ridden artist.

Just around the time that Sofia came back from parking the family car, the Winters left to go shopping for the extra necessities they had left back home. Together, Sofia and Mike put the art on the walls and made the bed, allowing for Charlie to put her knick-knacks where she chose, her clothes in the order she needed, and her plant in just the right spot in the window. By the time the room was setup, Charlie was sat at her desk holding her Scrump doll tightly against her body.

Danny Boy (9:32am): Hey, are you all setup?

She read the text over and over as if she couldn't understand a word it said. She looked up at her family as they made plans before leaving, and then back to her phone.

Charmander (9:34am): Almost. Mom and Mike are gonna bounce soon, I guess, but they want to go shopping first so I have some kind of food.

Danny Boy (9:35am): They're leaving so soon? Like, not even lunch?

Charmander (9:35am): :^) I'm dying inside.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before they all headed out to a nearby grocery store, getting cheap and fast essentials that could last her until the next time her mom came into town. She had a meal plan afterall, but as far as they could tell, musical theatre majors were going to be driven into the ground so any kind of extra snacks would be appreciated. Of course, it wasn't the most fun shopping experience she had ever had, as she really just roamed the aisles without an appetite for ten minutes before her family started grabbing things they knew she liked.

Arriving back at the dorms, Charlie and Mike took the stairs with the groceries, making for an earlier goodbye with Sofia on the first floor before she went to fetch the car. Riley was still gone and, after a choked up hug between the two siblings, Charlie was alone in her room for the first time.

Charmander (10:32am): Is your roommate there

Danny Boy (10:34am): No. Is yours? Do you need a friend?

Charmander (10:34am): mike just left

Danny Boy (10:36am): :( Come up to my room. The doors open.

That was the first place she differed from all the generic articles online. She had a friend from high school that was also attending her school of choice. She wouldn't say they were best friends, no, but they had certainly seen some things together. From homecoming disasters, to first heartbreaks, to gender revelations, to say they had history was a bit of an understatement.

Which is how Charlie found herself sitting in Daniel Knowles' room, streaming with tears as he hummed while putting away Poptarts. She wasn't offended, in fact she kind of preferred that he ignored her. It was sort of just a moment for herself.

Until he decided to actually talk to her about it.

"What is it that's freaking you out so much, if you don't mind me asking?" He inquired, not even looking in her direction.

She looked up, eyebrows drawn together and shoulders rigid, "Well... I mean... I've never done anything like this. I mean," She sniffed and swiped at her nose, "I lived with Mike for that one year. But it was different, I was still home with everyone. I was in a small town. I had somewhere to be. I had Mike."

"Well, you have me," He shrugged.

"Why am I the only one who's not excited?" She suddenly asked.

He paused then finally leaned against the counter, looking at her. "I don't think you are," He finally said, "I think everyone just says that they're excited so they can cover up how dreadfully anxious they are. But you don't tend to do that. You... Well, Charlie, you wear your heart on your sleeve and, ya'know, that's not a bad thing."

"I didn't use to do that," She mumbled to herself.

"No, you didn't," He agreed, "But then some larger than average poop broke your heart, you got sad, and now everyone knows you feel approximately all of the time because you just stopped hiding it. Which is a good thing if you ask me. You're here to study acting."

"So, I should be able to act like I'm not a horrible mess," She defended.

"Nah, I think it just makes you more genuine," He smiled, "You're very in touch with your mess."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, wiping underneath them to try and remove any evidence of her sobfest. A quick look through her camera on Snapchat and she could see that somehow her Wal-Mart brand makeup stood the emotional test and was looking just fine. With that in mind, she turned so that Danny was in the background of the photo and snapped a selfie. She posted it to her story with fake enthusiasm, mostly putting on a show for their friends back home, before setting her phone down and curling up in the chair she was sat in. For the next hour or so, she watched as Danny, soon to be joined by his roommate, set up their room. Or at least tried to.

She eventually spoke up, seeing how uncomfortable he already was with his roommate, "Can we stop by my room? See if Riley's back and grab my computer?"

"Sure," He answered quickly, dropping what he was doing and grabbing his keycard. "I'll be back, Nate." He didn't wait for an answer before he left the room, Charlie at his heels.

It was only when they reached Charlie's room only a floor down that either of them said anything. She bit back a cheeky smile as she unlocked her door, "He's... certainly a character."

"I don't trust him," Danny deadpanned, "I, can already tell that I'm going to hate him."

With no sign of her roommate, Charlie let out a sigh, "I think I'm going to like my roommate. I don't know. I don't know if she's going to like me."

"You'll be fine," He drawled.

For the next several hours Charlie and Danny bounced from one floor to the next, answering calls from friends back home, sorting out their rooms, and trying to have any kind of communication with their respective roommates. Eventually they ended up on the floor of Charlie's room for a good forty minutes just talking to Riley before she left again to go to a family dinner.

Alone in the room, Charlie rubbed the back of her neck, "So, like... My family's gone... I don't have dinner plans."

Danny looked up from where he lay on the floor, "Oh, I'm sure my family can bring you out."

"I hate your mom," She scrunched up her face at the thought.

"So do I," He shrugged, "But it's food."

After a moment, she nodded in agreement. They called Danny's mom and sorted out dinner plans, and soon enough they were headed out, pressing the elevator button and waiting.

A tall person with incredibly light blonde hair rounded the corner and, seeing that the button was already pressed, stood back with their hands in their pockets, staring at the door. They sort of kicked at the ground a little impatiently, never quite standing still. They had a softness about their face despite having a completely blank expression.

Charlie took a minute to just stare at their shirt, silently admiring the design and briefly wondering if it was a reference to anything. Then, having realized they were staring at this stranger's chest for an indeterminate amount of time, she looked at their face. "Hey," She said, gaining their attention, "Uh, I realize now that it looks like I was just staring at your chest and I look weird. I was checking out your shirt."

They blinked then smiled, "Oh." They looked at their shirt, almost as though they forgot what it was, "Yeah, thanks! I like it." They looked back at Charlie, scuffing their shoe again, "I like your outfit."

"Thanks," She smiled, rocking back on her heels and tapping her toes together, looking down at her shoes shyly.

The elevator dinged open and all three of them got in, riding it down before branching off to their respective destinations.

Unfortunately what followed suit was one of the, if not the most awkward dining experience Charlie had ever had with Danny's family, which was really saying a lot considering the four or five years they had known each other. After a fight that had been sparked from absolutely nothing, Danny's mother refused to join them at the table, and it was just the two of them and his sister eating. With some awkward small talk here and there, Charlie managed to be the Switzerland of the family war, and got back to the dorm with enough time to spare before her floor meeting.

A couple minutes early, she and Riley crept out of their room and peered into the lounge, finding half the floor sitting in various places around the room. The two of them exchanged looks before choosing to sit against the wall on the floor next to one another. Riley focused her attention on her phone, while Charlie scoured the room with her eyes, noticing as each new person slowly filtered into the lounge.

What came by next was a bit of a blur, mostly a ton of information from their very loud and excited RA. Somewhere along the line Charlie made a remark under her breath, which the RA laughed brightly at, calling attention to Charlie by name. She ducked her head awkwardly, smiling a bit and noticing the way Riley chuckled in response.

Finally, as if the universe knew how to mess with her, they were instructed to find someone in the lounge to speak to. The catch being that it couldn't be your roommate. Charlie didn't miss the way Riley seemed to physically brace herself for the following conversation. It got worse when they found out they had to do it twice.

After a conversation with an upperclassmen that she absolutely forgot the name of despite hearing it multiple times within the past twenty minutes, she had to find another stranger to communicate with. She glanced around, recognizing the person from the elevator, but they had already found a partner to speak to. She rubbed at her arm uncomfortably before her eyes landed on what she had deduced to be the elevator stranger's roommate, due to earlier comments made in the meeting.

Perfect.

She sat next to him, startling him, and just let the words roll out of her mouth, "Hi, I'm Charlie, you look uncomfortable and I'm incredibly uncomfortable, so we're going to talk."

He stared at her like a deer in headlights before cracking a smile, "Yeah, sure, that works for me. Uh, Scott. Matthews. Acting major."

"Musical theatre," She nodded, recalling him saying that earlier in the meeting, "So, we'll have a bit of a similar experience."

He pursed his lips, tilting his head, "Well."

"It can't be that different right off the bat," She furrowed her brow, "We do the same thing, I just sing and dance more than you do."

"Still pretty different," He adjusted his seating position just barely, pushing back his hair, "But ya'know, it's. It's whatever."

"Jesus, okay," She huffed to herself, "Uh, interesting fact? I wrote a book once."

"Wow," He looked mildly impressed before shrugging, "I don't know, uh, I went to Catholic school."

She blinked, "You... Really?"

He smiled- no, he smirked. It was definitely a smirk. "Yeah. It's just as terrible as it sounds."

"Yikes, dude," The more she thought about it the more she hated it. She had her own experience with having a wildly religious dad, so to imagine growing up and going through the Catholic school education system was just horrendous.

"I mean, it's fine," He cracked his knuckles absentmindedly, "It's just, ya'know, the surefire way to make sure your kids are never Catholic. That was a fun conversation."

"Yeah, I... I get that. With my dad," She looked down at her hands then, fidgeting with her sleeves.

Their RA called for their attention shortly after, and she could feel an awkward wall go up between her and Scott once they were no longer engaged in conversation. She didn't think anything of it, nothing more than a failed attempt at making a friend anyway.

"Alright, and one last thing before we head out," Their RA finally said, "I need to show you guys the trash room!" Somehow she managed to make even that sound exciting. She stood, startling Charlie when she was only around 5'1", and headed down the hall with the elevators. Everyone followed after her and the moment they walked in, there was a murmur.

"Wow, look, it's my home," Charlie said to herself.

Scott's roommate, Grace as Charlie learned, gasped and turned to her. Excitedly they whispered, "That's what I said!"

Charlie looked at them and grinned, "Oh my God."

When their fun adventure to the trash room was over, they were dismissed from the meeting and Charlie and Riley immediately took to hiding in their room.

"So, there's that weird... mixer, party thing on floor twenty," Charlie mentioned, checking herself in the mirror.

"I don't think I'm going," Riley said.

"Yeah?" She looked at her.

"Like, maybe for a little bit because I hear food's involved. But I'm not, ya'know, a people person," She shrugged.

"I get that," She smiled a little, "I'm mostly just going because Danny wants to. I probably won't stay long. It's been... a day."

And so they went, Riley bailing out after a few minutes. Charlie sat with Danny and a few friends she had met during an Accepted Students Day in June, but mostly she was aching to leave. After some dancing and a weird conversation with a boy from her floor she couldn't remember the name of, she retreated to her room, finding Riley already in bed.

After a tentative shower, Charlie crawled into bed for the first night at college. She didn't know how long she stayed awake, staring at her string lights with something heavy weighing on her heart, but eventually she was able to sleep with Scrump in her arms.

#Verse: Misfit Tools #Remy writes #this is also lowkey remy journals #but its fine

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brainrattlers · 8 years ago

Text

I Hope I Can Handle It (Pt 2/?)

Summary: Sequel to “Think You Can Handle It?” - Reader is in a long-distance relationship, and is traveling for the holidays to see her man.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Words: 2664

Warnings: Fluff fluff fluff. Little bit of implied sexy times. Also I curse, and we know Sebastian does too. I can’t think of much else here.

A/N: Here is part 2!

(Part 1)

The next day was a blur of getting things ready. Checks and rechecks of your bags, making sure you had your camera and memory cards, clothes, toiletries. You had to keep telling yourself it wasn’t like you were going camping, if you forgot something, you could run to the store. Hell, there was a good chance Seb would probably have most everything on hand too. You were completely anxious though, counting almost the MINUTES until you needed to hit up the airport to head out.

You spent a little time at Mama J’s, working in the back office, looking at a few property options. Checking out floor plans, what utilities would run in those locations, and how seating would work. Spread out in front of you were a few inspiration boards, including some paint and fabric swatches, and photos you cut from magazines. Mama J came back to check on you, asking if you wanted some lunch. She noticed the fabrics and paints, sighing softly.

“Child, don’t get so wrapped up in this, I still haven’t quite figured out how to make it all happen yet. It will, but I need to save up a bit more anyway. I appreciate all the enthusiasm though. Keeps me motivated.”

“Mama J, if you don’t mind me asking, how much more do you need? Maybe we can get something going to make it all happen faster.”

“I don’t want to talk money,” Mama J looked a little sad, “There is still a chunk that I need to get, would like to upgrade some of the kitchen for the new location. Patience, child. What is meant to happen, will happen.”

The timer in the kitchen was beeping, and Mama J scurried off as you grabbed your phone to look up what a new restaurant-grade equipment would cost, and your eyes went wide. You suddenly understood that it was going to take a bit longer to save up to upgrade. Some gears in your head started turning, but was interrupted by a text message.

“24 hours! Cannot wait to see you!”

“Still picking me up at the airport?”

“Of course. Text me when you leave, and I’ll find where I’m meeting you at. I might have a late night tonight, so no call tonight I don’t think, but one more sleep until I see you. *heart emoji*”

You chuckled to yourself. You’d never expect Sebastian to put little hearts all over texts, but it was adorable.

“Yup, I will babe. One more sleep, until I get to sleep next to you. *winking emoji*”

Mama J smiled at the sight of you smiling so big as you texted. She knew she did good. As a surprise, she set down a plate of meat and potato colțunași in front of you. You ate up while you continued doing a little research on kitchen appliances. Mama J disappeared for a while during the lunch rush, but came back a few hours later to take a break and count out the register.

“I was doing some thinking, what would you think about maybe having investors, maybe even some partners, in the new location? That would certainly help with the up-front costs.” You questioned her, unsure of what her response would be, but hoped it wouldn’t offend her. She got quiet, but not in an upset way, more of a thinking of a good response way.

“I don’t know how I’d feel about it. I don’t like taking money from strangers… I don’t like taking money from family though either. If I did, I think I’d have to be super comfortable with whomever was investing, and I would have to pay them back.”

“You know that defeats the purpose of an investor, right?” You both chuckled.

“I know, but it just feels like cheating or something. I want to be able to prove I can do this on my own.” Mama J swooped the emptied plate out from in-front of you, and patted your head. “Thank you for trying to help me out though, but I’ve got this.”

You nodded, and looked at your watch, realizing most of the afternoon had slipped by. Thanking Mama J for lunch, you left the info you compiled to her to look at while you were going to be away. She hugged you tight before you left.

“You hug that man of yours for me, please? And wish him and his family a Merry Christmas for me!” You hugged her again.

“Of course Mama J. And a Merry Christmas to you. You’ve got Skype set up, right? Just in case I want to call, yeah?” She nodded, and shooed you out the door with a laugh, wishing you a safe trip and a Merry Christmas as well.

Heading home, you grabbed some Chinese food on the way, and sat down in your living room, staring at your suitcase. Not able to help yourself, you snapped a photo of it, and posted it to Instagram.

Ready to see what the Big Apple has to offer! 18 hours, @imsebastianstan!

Not moments after posting, the comments started pouring in, squeals and people saying they were glad you were still together. Questions of what plans were, if you would meet up with them. And of course there were the haters that are always online, but you were starting to get pretty good at ignoring those comments.

Finishing dinner, you did a last check of things that needed to come with you. Bag repacked for about the 8th time, you made sure your plane tickets were on your phone, alarms set to make sure you woke up on time (not that you’d be able to sleep tonight, of course). Finally crawling into bed, you inhaled deeply, realizing you weren’t going to feel the comfort of your blankets and pillows, and snuggled in deep. Of course you then also realized that you’d be snuggling into something, nay, someone else in less than 24 hours.

You grabbed your phone, clearing off notifications, until you saw one that, despite it happening on the regular anymore, made your heart skip a beat.

Imsebastianstan liked your post.

Of course he did.

Sleep took hold, and although tossing and turning all night, you did get a bit of sleep off and on before your alarm on your phone went off. Squinting, you noticed the text indicator blinking.

“See you soon, babygirl!”

You smiled, simply sending an emoji of a kiss print. Hopping out of bed, you took a quick shower, and grabbed your things as Y/F/N knocked on the door to take you to the airport. The drive was surprisingly quick. Y/F/N dropped you off at the terminal, helping you unload your belongings.

“I’m going to miss you, Y/N. What if Sebastian kidnaps you and you’re stuck in New York City forever?”

You laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I could think of far worse things happening. If it does happen? Well maybe you’ll just need to come visit!”

Helping you get your bag from the back of her car at the airport, Y/F/N hugged you tight, and wished you safe travels. You promised to text as soon as you landed.

You checked your bag, you found your gate. Boarded the plane, and were relieved to find that you weren’t seated next to any unruly children. Right before takeoff, you texted Sebastian with a little airplane emoji and an arrow in the direction you were flying. You put on your headphones, and caught a couple minutes of sleep, when your neighbor accidentally woke you up before the pilot announced it was time to land. Once safely on the ground, you checked your phone, texting Y/F/N, and found a notification that Sebastian had tagged you on Instagram.

Quickly opening the app, you found the post in question. Sebastian was holding a paper in front of his face, covering it from his cheeks down, but you could see him wearing his newsboy cap, eyes crinkling with a smile hidden behind the sign with “@(y/instagram handle)”, captioned “At the airport! @(y/instagram handle) is almost here!” You double-tapped the image, and not a minute later Sebastian texted.

“Are you at gate 62b?”

“Yes, but stuck on plane waiting for a section of travelers to move ahead of me. Meet me outside the baggage claim?”

“Of course. Tell them to hurry! Don’t they know I have a beautiful woman to hug and swing around and kiss passionately?”

You smiled, and tapped back “see you soon!”

Time was dragging. All you wanted to do was get off the plane, get some non-recirculated fresh air, and see him. You “saw” him nearly every day via Skype, but this was different. You were going to get to feel him. Smell him. Taste him. Those three senses had been grossly neglected because of Skype. Rather, the distance. At least Skype gave you the ability to see and hear him. Once you were off the plane and into the gate area, you quickly found your way to the baggage claim, and waited impatiently. Finally you say your bag on the conveyor, grabbed it and damn near RAN for the door. Rounding the corner, your heart skipped a beat.

There he was. Smile as bright as the sun, hair tucked under his cap, holding up his sign for you with one hand, roses in the other. His eyes were glistening, and you could tell he was like an excited little puppy, almost wiggling wanting to get to you. Tossing your bag down, he dropped the sign and held his arm out as you ran toward him, pulling you in so close, nearly picking you up off the ground one-handed. You stood there holding him tight, him inhaling the scent of your hair and it triggering the memory of the night you spent at the park. And then the next day together. He missed it. He missed YOU.

Finally letting go of your torso, he handed you the flowers you were sniffing, but slowly pushed them away from your face. Sebastian’s knuckle and thumb captured your chin, lifted it up, and kissed you. And of course Sebastian being Sebastian, wrapped his arms around you, dipping you down backward. Few fellow travelers whistled and clapped as the man kissed his woman. The both of you started laughing at the reactions, with Sebastian nearly dropping you from giggling too much.

“Aww baby girl, I missed you so much. But you’re here. You are finally here! How was your flight?” The questions started coming at you fast and furious as you picked up your bags, Sebastian making grabby hands at the suitcase to carry it for you. “What did you pack in here?”

Remembering the extra weight of jars, you reminded yourself about lunch from Mama J.

“I know it sounds silly, but I did bring a taste of home with me… Mama J insisted. So hopefully you didn’t have a big lunch planned…”

A smile crept over Sebastian’s face.

“If we can though, I need to hit up a grocery to get a few little things to make it magic.”

After finding the car that was picking the two of you up, a small detour was made to a corner store to pick up a few necessities, like bread and cheese. You hoped he had a griddle in his apartment. Never can tell with boys what kitchen utensils they may (or may not) have.

Arriving at his building, Sebastian insisted you carry the few groceries, and he carried your bags to the elevator. Pressing the button to his floor, he leaned in and kissed you. You smirked as he finally pulled away as the bell alerted you to the door opening. Leading you down the hall, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door slowly, ushering you inside. What you found surprised you a little bit. Having seen bits and pieces of his home while skyping, you were able to put it all together. It wasn’t a total bachelor pad, but it wasn’t the magazine-perfect apartment you were almost expecting. Instead, it was nicely furnished, with an overstuffed chair and sofa, a wall of books, and a large TV punctuating the living room. Fluffy blankets hung over the chair, and soft looking pillows sat on the sofa. There wasn’t a feeling of stuffiness or the fear of touching things. It looked inviting… comfortable. It felt like home.

Sebastian grabbed you, and kissed you again, holding you tight.

“Babe, why are you so kissy? Not that I mind of course…” you questioned all of the affection. He cupped your cheeks, and kissed your nose.

“Because,” (kiss) “I need” (kiss) “to make up” (kiss) “for all the” (kiss) “kisses” (kiss) “we’ve missed out” (kiss) “on.” You smiled, giggling with each kiss, before pulling him back to your lips for a long kiss that left you both breathless, borderline dizzy. Sebastian smirked as he led you to the bedroom right off the bat, your luggage in tow.

“Sweetie, I uh, well I was hoping that we could make lunch first.. Remember groceries?”

“Duh babe, I was just dropping off your luggage and letting you see at least where you are sleeping… and to get whatever Mama J sent you out wish. But I figured just in case, I wasn’t going to snoop through your luggage, I don’t know what you packed!”

You smiled, squeezing his hand as you took the large suitcase out of Sebastian’s grasp and placed it on the bed gently, admiring the quilt over it, and the number of pillows… including a body pillow. Sebastian must have caught your slight chuckle as you looked over the bed.

“What? A couple of those are for you… I figure sharing a pillow might be a little weird.”

“But the body pillow?”

“Um, that… is mine. I saw yours before I left… and it was really comfy, so I got one for myself.”

“Hold it at night pretending it is someone?”

Sebastian squinted at you. “Maybe?” He smiled and pulled you to him, falling on the bed, avoiding your bag. His giggles were infectious, and you couldn’t stop the smile from widening on your face as you curled up into him. The two of you lay there, intertwined, for a few moments. Finally, you broke the news that if lunch was going to be made, you’d have to get up. And after a few attempts of actually getting up and out of bed, with Sebastian pulling you back to him, you were up, smacking his hand away like a small child trying to grab sweets from the shelves at the store.

Unzipping your bag slowly, you pulled the well-packed jars from the bag, rezipping the bag and heading out of the bedroom, back to the kitchen. Sebastian followed close behind. You unbagged the items from the corner store, and asked where his griddle was. Surprisingly, he had one (which makes making grilled cheese sandwiches so much easier), and you sat it on the stove, heating up in preparation for the coming ingredients. Opening drawers to find utensils, you then opened the fridge with a little bit of a shock, only finding vegetables in it.

“Crap,” It dawned on you. “He’s on a diet because he’s bulking up for Infinity Wars.” Your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the freezer and saw chicken. Chicken on every shelf.

“Hey, uh, babe? Am I going to wreck your diet? I wasn’t even thinking…”

You felt his arms wrap around your midsection, his lips finding your neck.

“I can cheat every once in awhile, but be prepared, I eat like 5-6 times a day. And it is chicken and veggies.” Your face contorted in sadness and frustration. “I’ll just have to work a little harder those days, that’s all. AND that reminds me, I have an early present for you.”

You raised an eyebrow as Sebastian dug something out of his pocket, kneeling down in front of you. It felt as if you suddenly forgot how to breathe.

(Part 3)

Tags: @dawn121, @sceaterian, @pennyroyalcreep

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