#i wanna eat your guts the animated series

[starrysharks]

doodle cuz i feel bad for being so inactive

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (Two)

Note: I feel like this is so bad im sorry!!!!

CW: Angst, titty sucking, passionate asf sex, simon missed ur pussy and you very much and vise versa, breeding kink, PIV (no protection, pls use it irl), squirting, simon eats the FUCK out of ur pussy, multiple orgasms, praise, hint of degradation, possessive!simon, OVERSTIMULATION, slight daddy kink… sorry

Part One

It was a quiet ride, the subtle sweeps of cars fleeting by as Simon gripped the wheel, eyes trailing off to the side to look at you briefly. Your head was leaned against the window, your knees knocking together anxiously as your daughter babbled in the back, cooing about how Mummy and Daddy were now back together.

You tried to hide the shed of tears that filtered across your iris, every small childish mumble like a stab to the gut as you listened to the genuine happiness in her tone. You would turn around occasionally with a small smile as you reached out to tickle her foot, giggles filling the car.

Simon pulled in, the car bouncing slightly as it hit the gravel carpark, his hand swerving into a spot before he turned to the back. “You excited, baby?”

Ella’s face lit up as she fumbled to take off her seatbelt, “Get me, Daddy! Get me! I wanna see the lions!” It was refreshing knowing she still viewed Simon as her hero, no matter how distant he was in their lives. You knew that even though your ex-husband was rarely around, his time with them did everything it could to mend the time apart. Toby woke up at the commotion, the toddler having slept the whole way there despite his older sister’s constant bickering about what animals she had to see first.

Everything seemed to flash past you as you walked inside, the whir of kids and noise sending your brain into overdrive as your eyes flickered to Simon with Ella swinging around on his shoulders and Toby kicking his legs in the stroller. You looked away; breath shaky as you attempted to compose yourself. This was supposed to be a happy day, for all of you, yet seeing him with your children, something that was supposed to be normal, felt so distant and unknown. Gathering yourself, you plastered a fake smile, hands reaching out to pinch your son’s cheeks as you grabbed the stroller.

Your heart hammered in your chest for the remainder of the day, fingers tingling with anxiety that bled into your veins, consuming your lungs with what seemed like everything but oxygen. It was a series of squeals and commotions from your young ones, their elation evident through the bright glow of their face, soft red resting on the apples of their cheeks. As the day quieted down, Toby slumped in the stroller as you tucked him into the car seat, his new plush crocodile cradled into his arms, mouth wide open as subtle breaths snored out.

Ella was cradled into Simon’s shoulder, her shoes half hanging off as she clutched onto him, dead asleep. You settled into the ride home yet your anxiety only seemed to heighten. You were alone with Simon, with no kiddish voices to break the tension, brown orbs glaring into the side of your face.

“Should we talk about this morning?”

You scoffed. “You have some nerve asking to talk about this morning,” you screamed into a hush, “What you did was completely disrespectful. Not only did you break into my house and kick my date out, but you left our kids in the car! What the fuck were you thinking?”

He cleared his throat, almost like he wanted to hold back how he felt. You noticed the white in his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, right eye twitching as he stared at the squiggles of tar ahead. “I don’t want our kids growing up thinking it’s normal for parents to separate. They need their mum and dad together, y/n.”

The world silenced for a second, the screams of the wind rushing past you seemed to slow as your voice cracked, seeps of emotion pouring out as you choked on your breath, “Then you should have fought for your family, Simon. There is no us anymore, it’s just them. They’re all that connects us now.”

You felt like all the ivory had been sucked out of your eyes, endless pits of your pupil consuming you whole, blurring your vision with fog as you blinked, hot streams of liquid salt spilling onto your cheeks, brimming at the cracks of your lips as you sniffled. You could feel his hesitation as he looked at you.

His words regurgitated in his throat as he stammered, tangled limbs reaching out to grip yours as you pulled away.

“Just drop us home.”

Your eyes had dried now, soft stains of bare skin caving through your foundation as you smudged your fingers against it. Simon stuttered as he pulled up to the driveway, tyres screeching to a halt as you sat in silence.

The soft strum of fingers caught your attention as you turned around, the innocent face of Toby looking back at his parents, tongue blabbing out of his mouth. “Dadda! You have dinner?”

“No, sport. Daddy’s gotta go-“

“Yeah, baby. Daddy will have dinner with us.”

You blinked at your own words, Simon’s surprised expression meeting yours. The wrench in your heart would never subside, the entirety of the beating organ still belonging to your ex-husband, but being a mother was a sacrifice. And you would sacrifice yourself in every existence you become one if it meant your children didn’t have to battle the same internal wounds.

“They’re tucked in,” Simon said, voice soft as he noticed your withered body in the couch. Your hair was messy now, strands spitting out as you anxiously tucked them back in, smoothing them down with the dampness of your palms as you ran around all night, ushering to the demands of your children.

“Thank you.”

You felt ill, your tongue cascading down your throat as you palmed at your knees, desperate for him to leave yet desperate for him to stay. Simon stilled, keys jangling in his hand before he sat down next to you, his weight disrupting the couch as he shuffled around.

“I need you to know that I did want to fight for you, y/n. I have counted every single day since you handed me those papers, waiting by my phone every single night on deployment hoping for you to text me, call me, fuck - blow my phone up. I never wanted the temporary absence that we had apart become permanent. Everything I said,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he looked away, “Everything I said on October 6th, 7 years ago, I meant. You weren’t supposed to get away from me - I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have let you get away from me.”

It was strange. Simon was never one for feelings, the brutality of his job allowed for any harsh emotions to crack through his fingers as he pulled a trigger, any dampness of tears would sweat through his skin as he pummelled a blade into an enemies head.

But it was you. And you weren’t violent, or any enemy, you were his wife, the person he vowed his entirety too.

Your anxious cascade cracked as you whimpered out a sob, chest heaving as you buried your face, tight with tears, into the pillows of your hands. You felt warmth spread through you, the texture of Simon’s fingers burning through you like wildfire, every ember he felt scorching through your flesh as he pulled you in.

Arms tangled together, intwining like wool as he wrapped you into his chest nimbly. A zephyr ran through you, your wrists clutched in his hands as you straddled him, the weight of you feeling like the grandest treasure upon him.

It was nothing strange, nor sexual but Simon recognised that cry, the differing pitch as you shuffled your frame into his. Simon knew you like the back of his hand, every crevice, every crease, every scar. He knew your backstory, and the one you made up to impress people. He knew the hex of the colour of your eyes and the print of your thumb. No papers would take that away from him.

Soaked eyelashes clumped into one as you looked up at him, orbs resembling once of a doe, innocence seeping through every inch of a salt-stained tear. His eyes met yours, apertures of cocoa reflecting your weary frame as you gripped onto him.

“Let me come home, please.”

Simon’s voice was desperate, it was raw, any shed of arrogance erased through the lines, eyebrows knotted together as he rubbed at the small of your back.

Your nod was subtle, but he could practically hear it, calloused hands gripping at the plush of your cheek and seeping through the tip of your spine, thumb rubbing at your earlobe as he clutched onto you.

Hot, seething pricks ran through your limbs as your lips connected, saline lining your mouth as he lapped at the heat of your tongue, rough groans leaving his lips as he savoured the taste.

Any diffidence left your body as familiarity sunk back into you. Hands pawed at the globe of your ass, gripping the flesh as anguished limbs wrapped around Simon’s waist.

With an easy tug, he lifted you, your hands wrapping around his neck as he pulled you in closer, teeth kissing. You never questioned Simon’s strength, and you wouldn’t start now as you felt your back hit your mattress.

He tugged at his shirt, the black fabric pooling on the floor as you sucked in a breath. Your eyes traced every scar, lighter flesh engraved into the skin of his torso, a short trail of hair disappearing into his pants as you stared at his burly physique.

Simon gripped at your shirt, the material practically ripping before his hands were at your chest, grabbing at your flesh desperately as you tangled your fingers into your bra, sliding it off. His mouth was hot on your chest, the sound of moans and pants filling the air as he positioned himself between your legs, teeth grazing the hard nubs, sucking with fervour as you whined, your hand at the base of his head, cradling it.

“Missed these so fucking much,” he practically whined, groping your tits as he pinched your nipples, lips sucking deep marks of possession into the soft skin. Your pants were desperate, begging him for more as you pulled his hair, fingernails clawing at his scalp.

Your hands fumbled with your pants, hips raising as he slid them off, clumsy fingers chucking them across the room as you laughed, lips connecting once more in a giggly state as his thumb pushed against the wetness of your panties.

“Missed how fucking wet you got for me. Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned, fingers rubbing at your heat through the thin cloth eliciting a pained moan from you.

“Simon - I need more, been so long.”

He choked out a laugh as his fingers hooked into the fabric, lace dribbling down your leg before he mewled at the sight of you. His hands held your thighs apart, your soaking cunt on display as it throbbed, slick folds glistening in the poor lighting.

“Prettiest fucking pussy,” he choked out to himself, placing your legs over his shoulder as he knelt down. Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe of your pussy, his body seething for a taste of you as his lips found your neglected clit.

He lapped at you mercilessly, your cries and moans moulding into one with the filthy squelches of his mouth against your heat. Long digits circled your entrance, teasing you, before they curled in.

Your eyes rolled, pools of ivory exposed as you let out a guttural moan, your thighs tightening around his ears as he smirked against your pussy. Cocky fingers rubbed at the right spot, favouring the clench of your tight hole as he pulled every noise he could get from you.

You were barely cohesive as he lapped at your slick, the throbbing of your clit edging him on as he soothed your g-spot with the pad of his fingers. The coil you had only ever felt with Simon began to build, the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach as you stuttered out a whimper.

“Si- too much - I’m gonna-“

“That’s it baby,” he cooed, pulling away from your pussy for a second to take in your expression as you came, your face contorted with pleasure as your legs jerked, pussy wrapping tighter around his abusing digits as he fucked you through it with them. You looked down at him, saliva and your slick coating his mouth and chin as he grinned.

You stammered out a groan as his mouth attached back on your pussy, slurping up your liquid gold as you attempted to push his head away in overstimulation.

“Oh my- fuck - Simon - too much,” you whimpered your words commanding him to continue as he guzzled around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as your legs shook uncontrollably.

It wasn’t long before the continuation from your previous orgasm rose again, heat swarming your lower belly as you screamed out, your hand slapping over your mouth as you felt Simon’s spare hand wrap around your thigh, squeezing tightly.

You pulled at his hair, tugging at the ashy roots before you were gushing around his fingers and tongue again, sloshing liquids soaking your sheets as he groaned at the taste, mouth lapping it up with vigour. You whined in humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much as you heaved.

“Si - no more -“

“I’m sorry baby, too fucking good. Will never get enough of your pussy.”

His words were filthy yet only held the truth, his continuous slurps against your heat causing your body to jerk as you relentlessly bucked your hips. Simon’s abuse continued on your pussy, your pussy gushing and coming another 6 times before he was satisfied, the sheet under you drenched in both your slick and squirt as Simon milked your overwhelmed cunt, claiming he was “making up for the months lost”.

You were dry heaving, throat dry as he captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of you infiltrating into your glands as you groaned, his hands reaching to tug at your breasts as he took in your fucked out state, legs jiggling and twitching as your pussy convulsed at the number of orgasms he dragged out of you.

You felt like you had been lying here for hours, yet you weren’t satisfied. You would only be content when he was inside you, stretching you to the brim as he pumped a load inside your worn-out hole.

“Simon - please - I can’t… I need you now,” you were practically crying, tears shedding at the brim of your eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, slicking back the sweat on your forehead.

“I know baby, done so well for Daddy, hm? Even after all that you still need to be plugged full of me don’t you?”

You nodded as a harsh slap landed against your clit, your body jolting as you squeaked. “Yes, please,” you cried, “Please Daddy.”

His hands were like clockwork, tearing at his jeans as they released his cock, a satisfied groan leaving his body as he gripped at the tent in his pants, a sticky wet patch soaking the material before his length throbbed out, angry tip slapping his stomach as a trail of precum glistened against the base of his cock.

His dick was flushed red, begging for release as he ran it through the squelch of your sopping folds, rubbing against your manipulated clit as you moaned.

Your hands gripped his head as he leant down to kiss you, his arm holding him up while the other positioned himself at your entrance. He stilled for a moment, cock almost pressing in before he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The words were soft yet meaningful, your eyes interlocked as he began to push inside, your mouth gasping open as you clutched onto his shoulders. It was hard when you were together all those years to get accustomed to his frightening length, and now it had been a year and the stretch was searing through you.

“I know, sweet girl, you can take it. Such a tight cunt for me, so fucking good.”

Fingernails clawed at his back as he pushed in, your whines muffled by the palm of his hand as he held himself up his elbows. “Holy fuck,” he spluttered as he bottomed out, his lips connecting to your neck as he sucked, resting inside you for a second as you whimpered.

The burn slowly faded as you rutted against him impatiently, the tip of his cock resting against your sweet spot as you gasped.

“So fucking impatient, always been such a slut for me. Haven’t you?”

You nodded, whining as he began to move, moving his hips slowly as he rubbed inside you perfectly, your mouth wide open as your head lolled back. A series of expletives tipped from your tongue as you choked on the air, Simon’s pace picking up at your dramatic noises.

“Fuck - taking me so well-“ he grunted, hands groping at your tits as he watched your pussy absorb his length. It was an obscene sight and he loved it. Every fibre of your being belonged to him and it was something he constantly craved.

“All fucking mine - shit - my fucking pussy,” he grunted, thumb rubbing at your clit as you mewled, twitching below him as he spat, “my fucking wife - got the tightest fucking cunt just for me.”

You clenched around him at his words, knowing it was true as his balls slapped against your ass, skin spanking against each other as the sound filled the room, ecstasy roaring through both of your veins as you made love.

The squelch of your pussy was taboo as he lapped in the missed sound. His eyes took in the way your body reacted to every movement, no matter how small. He took in the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, lower stomach bulging as he pounded into you.

“Fuck - Simon - oh my God,” your words were a mere blabber, barely making sense as you clutched onto him, pulling him down to meet your lips.

“I can’t pull out, baby - fuck - gotta cum in this pretty pussy. Give you another kid, hm? - shit -“

His hips didn’t falter as his pace fastened, chasing his own high as he rubbed at your clit, your breaths growing shallow as your orgasm began to build. “Gonna fill you with my cum until it takes. Need your belly round again and your tits full - such a good fucking mum, makes me so fucking proud.”

His words were the final straw as the build up in your stomach popped, your whole body convulsing as your pussy clenched around him, a loud groan leaving his throat before you felt the hot splashes of his cum pumping inside you.

“That’s it baby, milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl for Daddy, gonna break you apart everyday on my cock until you never forget who you belong too.”

He didn’t pull out immediately, his cum plugged inside you as some seeped out, rolling down the crevice of your ass below you. Your eyes shut, gentle pants leaving your lips as you felt Simon’s absence before a soft cloth was wiped gently across your sex and masculine arms were gripping onto you, carrying you into the guest room before engulfing you into a thrill of heat, Simon’s chest against your back as you fell asleep.

TAGLIST: @kiiwiipie @nijiru

Disclaimer: im sorry if this is disappointing im super tired :(((

[sparguscityangel]

it’s quicker and easier to eat your young

@segaphantom wanted more animalistic!Dark Jak and then i realized that i, too, wanted that. but then while thinking up of scenarios, i had too many ideas i wanted to explore and also im a Creature and like horror so i decided to do a mini mini series of 5 times dark jak was treated like an animal + 1 time he was treated like a person. this is part one set somewhere before jak 2. because why not. this series is also open to suggestions warning: descriptions of violence and killing. i tried being as mild as i could, but if you guys wanna see something more gorey i gotchu.

enjoy!

5. Everywhere Kwin looked she saw only red. The prison — though usually bathed in a suffocating and nauseous green — was now bathed in a sharp crimson. The alarms were blaring and echoing off metal cell blocks and the lights were bouncing off the polished armour of dead guards everywhere. Even looking down at her palms, all she could see was red.

It was bound to happen. Kwin wasn’t as naive as her young intern — Oh, Precursors, he was only twenty-five — and she wasn’t going to lie to herself that she didn’t see this coming. She had been warned. She had had amble time to stop what she was doing, but the payoff seemed so close, close enough to reach out and grab, that she had buried all her doubts in order to pursue it. The first of an army, the fist of Haven City, their weapon against the Metal Heads — all within reach, and she was going to be in the history books as the mother of the DWP.  Even now, as the screams of guards heading straight to the slaughter drew closer and closer, Kwin couldn’t help herself. Breaking into the lab was easy enough, the only real obstacle was leaping over dead scientists and trying to stuff as many viles and files into her bag as possible. Every sample, reaction, combustion, exploratory surgery, tonic, and experiment were valuable to their research. Five painstakingly long years of failure after failure had finally yielding a success and she wasn’t going to let her legacy die in the rubble. 

She licked sweat off her upper lip as she moved through the laboratory, ransacking the offices for any and all flash drives she could find. The team that worked with her was small, only about ten alums from the best programs from the best school from the best boroughs, and all had impressive research. She’d credit them, one day. Though, of course, as footnotes. She was the pioneer, after all. 

The bag around her had grown heavy, irritating her old bones as it tugged her down, but she couldn’t stop gathering more and more. It was only when the skin on the back of her neck prickled did she realize she was not alone. 

She froze. Hand mid-turn of a door knob, Kwin felt the air in the lab shift significantly. It was here. It took all her courage to turn around, squinting through broken lenses to find nothing there, but she wasn’t naive. She didn’t get to be one of Haven’s top eco scientists by ignoring her gut, and her gut was telling her something was lingering in the flickering red lights. The offices were all opened with broken windows and overturned chairs. She scanned the room, darting her head at every corner for any sign of the creature in her midst. Slowly, she finished turning the door knob and continued into the corridor. It lead to the lower levels of the prison, usually reserved for the guards to manuveour easily through the floors in case of a riot. As if it mattered. It had only took mere minutes to dispose of the guards on duty. They barely stood a chance at containing that thing, yet Kwin couldn’t help but be in awe of it. She couldn’t help herself. Kwin had never been a mother, never felt the desire to be one, frankly. The city was on its last legs as it was, what point was there in bringing more mouths to feed when it was a struggle to feed herself? No, her work was her family. That was her legacy. In that moment, as she watched the creature sink its teeth into the jugular of her intern, she didn’t feel fear. She felt euphoric. She wondered if this is how it felt to see one’s child for the first time, to see the fruits of labor paid off in a way that she had only ever hoped it would. She, and she alone, had finally found a way to tame dark eco and create something from it. Her skin to skin bonding was watching her perfect monster tear the limbs off Nova and Fender. 

Kwin made it two yards before the backup lights of the corridor shut off with a low hum, and the emergency alarm casted a long shadow of herself on the wall. It felt like the obnoxious ‘ding!’ of a kitchen timer. She swallowed, her legs refusing to move as the door ripped from its hinges and another shadow joined her own. Her hands worried the leather strap of her bag, gripping it impossibly tighter as she turned to face the creature. 

The subject itself wasn’t an ideal match for her expectations. She had wanted someone older, taller, robust, obedient. She had sneered when Erol presented her with the subject, explaining to her that looks were deceiving and promised her that the subject would exceed all her expectations. She was skeptical, obviously, but now, she admitted that she was wrong. It was perfect. It stood at the door frame, crouched on its hands and knees as it watched Kwin with beady eyes that were a tad too big for its face. A lithe form that she had seen maneouvor gracefully between kills, leaping from victim to victim with all the brutality of a Metal Head. It moved towards her, and Kwin reflectively held a hand in front of her. She cleared her throat, mustering all the authority she held into her voice when she commanded, “Don’t move,” 

The creature looked taken aback. It rose up from its crouch. She licked her lips, then spoke again. “Stay!” she hissed, taking a step towards it. The creature didn’t move. Good. It understands commands. “Heel,” 

And understand it did. It lowered, sitting on its knees with its upper body nearly pressed against the floor. Blood had soaked its uniform thoroughly, leaving smears of gore on the ground. All the while, it kept its eyes trained on her as she moved closer. 

“That’s it. Be a good boy, and stay,” she said in a hushed tone, giddiness rising up in her. If the creature only answered to her, she could use this to her advantage. The nagging voice in her head that warned her of the Baron crossing her was silenced. How could he command the creature if it viewed Kwin as its Alpha? It would only respond to her, and her alone. 

Who ever said beating submission into something wouldn’t pay off?

She smiled down at the creature, letting go of the strap of her bag. With the tip of her boot, she nudged the creature. It stayed still, stiff and quiet. All that time she spent running around the prison in fear for something so unresponsive. She huffed, shaking her head at her own stupidity. She’d have to call her sister later and recount the encounter, already thinking up of ways to describe the utter power she now holds over the creature. She clicked her tongue at it, watching an ear flicker. “Come,” she said, turning around to continue the walk down the corridor. Cell Block F should be at the end, and it’ll have to do until she’s able to request backup to clean Cell Block B. By the way bits of flesh hung from the horns of the animal, she doesn’t think the Cell Block is particularly pristine at the moment. 

Her steps echoed in the hollow corridor, though she doesn’t hear the patter of the creatures bare feet behind her. She scoffed, frustrated. Her patience was wearing thin already. “I said, come,” she shouted over her shoulder. The muscles under its ashen skin rippled and flexed, calculating. She was just about to spit out another command when it moved. 

The thing about a wild animal, Kwin realized too late, is that they are far more intelligent than one would think. Predators have survived for years in the harshest environments, growing and evolving and adapting in order to live to see another day. Though one could argue that a predator born and bred in captivity is all bark and no bite, it didn’t mean that it has lost all simblence of survival. A caged Metal Head is still a Metal Head, after all. The scorpion will always sting the frog no matter how many times the story is told. It’s in their nature. 

Kwin should’ve remembered that sooner, before the creature pounced on her back and sunk its claws into her shoulders. She fell instantly, screaming. She kicked and thrusted herself upwards, but the creature held her down with strength to rival that of a fully grown man. It growled and roared, flipping her over onto her back to with ease. Kwin stared up at the monster she created, at the blood and vicera clinging to its features. It was fast, faster than it should be for something so strong and brutal. It could’ve killed her in the laboratory, but instead it had stalked behind her, waiting until there was nowhere to hide before attacking. It slashed at her throat, only knicking her chin when she thrusted her palm up to its throat. It barely fazed it, only making it more mad. 

Even while fighting for her life, all Kwin could think about was her bag. Its contents laid spewed and gutted on the floor, flashdrives broken and pages ripped in their scuffle. All those years of research amounting to nothing as the creature grew bored of fighting her and ripping into her throat with fangs sharper than daggers. Her blood splattered across its face and chest, and she watched as it spat the chunk of her neck out. 

Darkness was creeping in, and in her final moments, the creature bent down near her ear. Its breath was hot and raspy as it whispered, “Stay,” before everything turned to static. 

[blueascend]

Most days, Adachi eats lunch with Kurosawa. Since they work in different departments they don’t see each other too much during the work day, so it’s nice to spend that bit of time together. 

Today however, Kurosawa is out with a group of other salesmen from their floor, to close a deal with Cube Enix. Toyokawa is to produce themed stationary to advertise an upcoming anime adaption for one of their series. Kurosawa had told Adachi some of the details while they cooked last night but Adachi hadn’t retained a lot of it, too focused on preparing the ingredients right and not screwing up dinner.

“It’s called - cuties something?” Adachi tells Fujisaki over lunch. 

“Cuties Force X?” Fujisaki says.

“Ah, that’s right! You know it?”

Fujisaki shrugs. “I’ve seen advertisements around. It’s about a group of anthropomorphic animals but I’m not sure about the plot. It looks cute, though, perfect for themed stationary.”

“Hm.” Adachi takes a bite of his burger. “I guess so.”

They finish eating in companionable silence. As they head back to the office, they hear loud chatter and peals of laughter echoing down the hallway. A woman passes them and Adachi’s eyes widen for a moment - she’s sprouted cat ears! - before realizing she’s wearing a headband.

He and Fujisaki exchange puzzled looks but they get their answer as soon as they enter the office. A group of people is gathered around a stack of boxes, and they’re pulling out animal-themed headbands. 

“Adachi! Fujisaki!” Rokkaku calls, waving them over. Kurosawa is standing next to him, wearing an abashed grin and a pair of - are those fox ears? “What do you think?”

“Where did these come from?” Fujisaki asks, accepting the headband Rokkaku thrusts at her. It’s a pair of brown, white-speckled deer ears. At Rokkaku’s urging, she puts them on.

“We closed the deal with Cube Enix! They gave us all this merchandise in order to inspire the planning and development team. But they said they didn’t need all of it, so we offered to take some of the boxes off their hands.”

Adachi peers into the nearest box. It looks like someone threw all their surplus Cuties Force X merchandise in there, all different sorts of headbands and tail pieces carelessly mixed together. 

“We’re picking out headbands based on personality,” one of their coworkers, Nakamura, explains. She’s wearing a pair of zebra ears, which Adachi has no idea what says about her.

“That’s why Kurosawa is a fox,” another coworker, Chino, adds with a giggle.

Kurosawa gives her a polite, somewhat uncomfortable smile. Adachi wants to say something, to deflect the unwanted attention away from him, but thankfully Rokkaku intervenes before he has to.

“What about me?” he asks the women, pointing at his own bare head. “What animal suits me?”

Nakamura tilts her head. “Hm. A bear maybe?”

“A bear?” Rokkaku repeats incredulously. 

“Or a frog?” Chino says.

“A -  they don’t even have ears!”

Adachi startles when something touches his head. He turns to see Kurosawa grinning at him, hands raised to place a headband in Adachi’s hair. Curious, Adachi reaches up to feel long, soft ears.

“Rabbit?” he guesses.

“Bunny,” Kurosawa says, leaning in to quietly add, “because you’re quiet, reserved… and cute.”

Adachi feels his cheeks grow warm but he’s put up with Kurosawa’s teasing for long enough to be able to maintain eye contact at least. “And what’s it supposed to mean that you make me a bunny when you’re a fox?”

“Hm.” Kurosawa tilts his head. “That I want to chase you?”

“And eat me?” Adachi dryly asks. Kurosawa’s grin just widens and okay, now Adachi does have to look away before his face combusts. “Pervert.”

He goes to remove the ears but Kurosawa grabs his wrist to stop him. “Don’t you want to keep them on? Everyone else is.”

Adachi looks around the office to find that Kurosawa is right. Everyone, even the people sitting at their desks, hard at work, is wearing animal ears. 

“They suit you,” Kurosawa adds. 

Adachi huffs. He leans in, quickly whispering before he loses courage, “So do yours.”

It’s worth the embarrassment when Kurosawa beams at his compliment.

*

Adachi blinks. He’s standing in a clearing in a darkened forest, the huge crowns of the trees above blocking nearly any hint of light. The ground below him is soft and damp, fragrant with the heavy scent of decaying leaves. 

He looks around but sees no one. There are no sounds either aside from the wind rustling the leaves; no birds chirping, no small creatures scattering across the forest floor. Whever Adachi is, he’s far away from his burrow.

His… burrow?

Ah, that’s right. He’s a bunny, he lives in a burrow at the edge of the forest. He had to enter it for - something? Food, maybe? For some reason, Adachi is finding it hard to concentrate, to form any concrete thoughts.

Behind him, a twig snaps. Adachi twirls around, ears raised, whole body alert. It’s a fox - a human? - a fox, with orange ears nestled in his dark hair. He’s wearing a suit and looks comically out of place, leaning casually against one of the trees.

“Are you lost, bunny?” the fox asks. It’s Kurosawa, but it’s not, and Adachi can’t figure out how that makes sense but somehow, it does. 

He straightens and Adachi leans back on his heels.

“Don’t come closer,” he says, raising his hands as if he has a chance in hell of fighting the fox off should he decide to give chase. 

Kurosawa grins, clearly thinking the same thing. “Or what? You’ll cuddle me into submission?”

Adachi doesn’t respond. There’s a hungry gleam in Kurosawa’s eyes and it’s making Adachi’s heart pound, making him want - want to be chased, to be caught. 

Clearly, something is wrong with his instincts. He’s just not cut out to be a prey animal.

“Don’t worry.” Kurosawa takes a small step closer. Adachi takes a step back. “My fangs are sharp. You’ll barely feel it when I sink them into your throat.”

Adachi swallows. 

He bolts.

He hears Kurosawa give chase.

Heart hammering wildly as if trying to escape from his chest, Adachi can barely see his surroundings as he runs past them, blurring into shades of green and brown. He’s fast, faster than Kurosawa, but he doesn’t know this forest as well as the fox. 

Every step counts, every stumble could seal his fate. The wind whips past his ears, the taste of copper rising on his tongue. In the distance, he can see the treeline start to grow thinner, rays of sunshine escaping through, and somehow Adachi knows that if he only makes it there, he will have escaped the fox.

He doesn’t. 

His foot catches on a raised root and Adachi goes flying, breath knocked out of him as he lands on the forest floor. He turns around, trying to get back on his feet, but Kurosawa is on top of him in a second, pinning him down.

Adachi stares up at him, frozen. Kurosawa stares back, eyes dark, his grip warm and solid around Adachi’s wrists.

“I caught you,” the fox says.

“Yeah,” Adachi breathes out. He should probably be terrified but it’s not fear that sends his heart pounding again as Kurosawa lowers his head, lips trailing softly against the column of his neck.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

Kurosawa’s grip on Adachi’s wrists tightens and he’s opening his mouth, tongue hot against Adachi’s skin, his entire body pressed against Adachi’s. Adachi feels the touch of fangs against his throat and squeezes his eyes shut, prepared to feel them sink in when -

A loud noise startles him awake. 

Adachi stares up at the ceiling, brain trying to catch up with everything that just happened. It was… a dream?

Next to him, Kurosawa groans and then leans over Adachi to turn off the alarm on the nightstand. He runs his hand through his hair and then lies down again, giving Adachi a curious look.

“Adachi? Are you okay?”

Adachi blinks. He’s not sure. Is he okay?

“Bad dream?” Kurosawa guesses, rubbing Adachi’s arm comfortingly.

“Ah-” Adachi looks away, heat rising to his cheeks. “Not exactly.”

“Not...” Something new enters Kurosawa’s voice, making it husky. “A good dream, then?”

Adachi swallows. “M-maybe.”

There’s a brief silence. Then Kurosawa’s fingers are gently grasping Adachi’s chin, turning his head to face him. Adachi reluctantly lets him and when he looks Kurosawa in the eyes, they’re gleaming in a familiar way that sends heat pooling in his gut. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” 

[darling-i-read-it]

Shiizakana

2x09 

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, manipulation 

Author’s Note: I don’t know? What’s going on? My fingers just go and then I reread it and I’m like ‘oh shit i did that’ and i love it sm

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary :A truck driver's body appears to have been torn apart by two different species of animals working in tandem; Will meets Hannibal's new patient; Hannibal sends Will a test to determine his true self.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​

(not my gif) 

You leaned back against the headboard of the bed. You had woken up and wasn’t able to go back to sleep so you decided just to sit up and stare into the darkness, thinking and hoping that your eyes would get droopy enough to sleep. You didn’t want to have another nightmare if you did go to sleep. You had at least stopped waking up screaming. Will sometimes didn’t even notice now and you would rather him get a good night sleep. He assured you thought you could wake him up whenever you needed to. 

You glanced down at his sleeping face and let out a small sigh. You at least knew that he was something you could trust. Even if he tried to kill your only mutual friend at this point or was sent to jail on murder charges that same friend set him up for. You knew you could trust him to not want to hurt you. 

He woke up with a start. It startled you how quickly he sat up because of how peacefully you thought he had been sleeping before. 

“You okay?” you asked groggily, voice raspy from sleep. He got his bearings and nodded slowly, sitting up beside you against the back of the bed.

“Nightmare,” he muttered.

“What about?” He thought hard and you weren’t sure where his mind had gone.

“Hannibal,” he muttered. “How with love we see potential and through love we allow the loved one to see the potential.” He shook his head. “It probably didn’t mean anything. I think a deer was there.” You laughed a bit and put your head gently against the back of the headboard.

“Dreams can be weird. But they can also be very insightful,” you pointed out. He nodded, mulling over the dream he had just had. He thought about the way Hannibal was tied up and shook the image out of his mind.

“Yeah, I guess.”

-

Will had just gotten out of therapy with Hannibal. It was odd, thinking about that. Will used to tell you every detail of the sessions that he remembered but now you feel odd asking for them. You knew he was trying to get a ploy out of something. You weren’t sure what but you knew it was something. 

“I’ll meet you out there,” you said as you got your papers together. Will nodded and left out of the door. Hannibal stepped outside the office and you glanced up at him. “How was the session? Did you try and manipulate him again?” Hannibal shook his head.

“Not today.” You nodded and put on your scarf, grabbing your bag of paperwork.

“Thank you. I would like to keep him in one piece if I can help anything.” He nodded.

“That I understand.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hannibal nodded and you waved at him as you walked out the front door. Margot Verger was outside, talking to Will. You walked up to her and gave her a small smile. 

“Hello Margot,” you said, standing beside Will. She gave you a kind smile.

“Miss. Secretary. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Y/N,” you said and shook her hand. Will put his hand on the small of your back and Margot gave you a suggestive smile.

“Miss. Secretary dating the guy who didn’t kill all those people. Quite a duo.” She gave you each a nod as you chuckled a bit in acknowledgement. “I’ll see you two around.” You nodded and she walked away, into the building. 

You glanced over at Will who was watching her go inside.

“What do you know about her?” he questioned.

“Nothing. I mean, Hannibal isn’t supposed to tell me anything,” you said which basically meant you knew a bit but weren’t allowed to share. Will nodded and you finished your walk to the car.

-

You sat in the house together. Hannibal let you go home just after Will’s appointment even though you were meant to stay longer and wrap things up. You sat together in front of the fireplace, on the floor surrounded by dogs. Every chance that you got you spent time with him after realizing the value of that time when he went to prison.

“Do you have any regrets?” Will asked. The same question he had asked Hannibal when therapy began that day. He had an arm over your back, leaning against you and the couch where you were both keeping yourselves up. 

“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?” Will looked into the fire that he had built to guard against the cold outside days. 

“I have so many regrets,” he whispered. 

“Regret comes with life.” 

“That’s what Hannibal said,” he whispered. You looked at him. His eyes seemed far away. “I regret what I did in the stables.” 

“You regretted pulling a gun or you regret letting Hannibal stop you from pulling the trigger?” Will let out a small sigh and his eyes finally met yours. 

“You were there,” he said. “You saw a part of me…” 

“That I knew was there,” you said honestly.

“What would you have done if I pulled the trigger? I wanted to. I still want to. Hannibal would have covered for me and I can’t tell what you have done.” You looked away from him. You hadn’t thought about it. You wanted him to kill the social worker. You thought that the man deserved it more than most. You knew how the justice system can fail. But still, would you have covered for Will after?

“I wouldn’t have let you go back to that hospital,” you said honestly. “I don’t know what I would have done to ensure it. Probably anything I needed to.” You looked back at his eyes and he nodded, pleased enough with that answer. 

“Are you out of hot cocoa?” he asked as he looked at your cup. You looked down at it and nodded.

“Yes sir I am.” He moved his hand away from behind you and took the cup out of your hands.

“I’ll put the cup in the sink. Do you want anything?” You shook your head.

“No, thank you. You’re very kind Mr. Graham.”

“Only for you.”

-

You walked beside Will from your car into the crime scene. You noticed Hannibal getting out of his car as well. You were all tucked in heavy coats from the weather. Will and you were both wearing beanies to hide your ears from the air. Hannibal was wearing a fun hat that you thought looked rather silly. 

“Hannibal, I love that hat,” you called as he met up with where you and Will were walking. 

“Thank you very much,” he said and you smiled. You stuck your hands in your pockets and approached where Jack stood. He turned to all three of you and seemed amazed that you were together. He stifled it quickly though.

“It snowed all night. There are no tracks. You sure it was an animal?” Will asked as he came to a halt.

“Severance of the jugular and carotids, esophagus destroyed. The bite almost severed his head,” Zeller said. 

“Evisceration was performed by large, non-retractable claws, so we’re looking at a wolf or a bear,” Price finished. 

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t afraid of humans. Not anymore.” You eye the corpse-icle on the cab of the truck.

“Don't wolves and bears drag away their kills? To eat?” you asked. 

“Unless it went mad. A rabid animal attacks its victims at random and doesn't’ eat any part of them,” Hannibal suggested. 

“There was no eating here. We found just about everything. Viscera was exposed, belly was laid open, but no sign of gnawing or rutting,” Zeller explained. The body's guts were sprayed everywhere but the cold had taken up most of the damage that you could see. Except the things that Price and Zeller hadn’t unearthed already.

“Found the same wound patterns on recent livestock mutilations in the area. Evisceration, dismemberment yet everything accounted for,” Price added.

“Since when does the FBI get involved in animal attacks, Jack?” Will asked the question you were all thinking. 

“When somebodys holding the leash of whatever’s doing the attacking.”

-

You and Will drove together to where they were holding Peter Bernardone. You got out of the car with him but leaned against it, looking over at him.

“I think this might be best handled with just you,” you muttered. Will looked over the front of the car at you.

“Why would you think that?” he questioned. You shrugged.

“You and Peter have the same problem. The same intention, for better or worse. He might open up to you more.” Will nodded and looked up at the large building. 

“Come inside anyway. Wait in the lobby for me.” You nodded.

“Sure, of course.” 

-

The next crime scene seemed just as gruesome than the last. Will was no longer convinced of the animal thing that was being pursued, he was wondering much more about the person behind the supposed animal.

You waited back beside Jack as Will did his thing. You glanced over at the man, surprised to find yourself here. Beside him, with Will in the situation you wanted him out of so much.

Will stepped out of it and turned around to you and Jack.

“It’s not an animal. It’s a man who wants to be an animal,” Will whispered. 

-

Will walked into the office as you sat at your desk. You had your feet up, drinking out of your water bottle.

“You don’t have an appointment,” you said. “What can I do for you?” He walked up to your desk.

“Is Hannibal busy?”

“No sir.” Will nodded and went to open the door before turning to you.

“I’m not here on an appointment. If you wanna come join.” You raised an eyebrow and pretended to think about it.

“Well if you insist handsome.” You got up out of your chair and Will opened the office door. You both walked inside. 

“What do I owe the pleasure to see both of you in my office?” Hannibal questioned.

“I work here,” you answered.

“And I am a patient.” 

“And we are dating,” you finished off. You sat on the desk while Will leaned against it beside you. 

“The murder recently, not a clean one,” Hannibal said. “No beat is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his own rage,” he muttered. 

“It’s not rage. Rage is an emotional response to being provoked. This is something else,” Will explained. 

“What is it?” Hannibal asked.

“Instinct. It’s the way he thinks.” 

“The way any animal thinks depends on limitations of the mind and body. If we learn our limitations too soon, we never learn our power,” Hannibal inquired. 

“He tore his victims apart didn’t he? I’d say he learned his power,” you said. 

“He claimed his power. Can you imagine tearing someone apart or would you prefer to use a gun?” 

“Is this a question to just me or also Y/N?” Will asked, a small sly smile on his face. 

“Both of you I suppose.” 

“Guns lack intimacy,” Will stated. 

“And it’s instant. Doesn’t allow to watch eyes drain,” you whispered.

“You set an event in motion with a gun. You don't’ complete it,” Hannibal said. You nodded, fingers wrapped around the desk. What an odd question that seemed so normalized in this room.

-

You were inside doing the dishes when you heard a car pull up. You looked at Will, who was sitting on the couch. He looked at you.

“Were you expecting company?” you questioned. He shook his head.

“I was not.” 

You put the dish down and dried out your hands, following Will to the door. You stepped outside together and the sight of Margot Verger came to your eye. You were surprised, very surprised. You had barely given the woman a second thought and now she was at your doorstep. 

“Sorry for the intrusion. We met outside of Dr. Lecter’s office,” Margot explained. 

“I remember,” you muttered.

“How did you find us?” Will questioned.

“Turns out, you are famous Will.” 

“You’re not exactly anonymous yourself, Margot,” Will said. So he had googled her mostly likely. You had as well.

“It’s cold. You have any whisky?” 

-

You, Margot and Will all held a glass. The two of them sat across from each other in the chairs while you leaned your back against the kitchen counter. 

“What’s the heir to the Verger meat packing dynasty doing at our door?” you asked her. She gave a small annoyed look, not at you but seemingly at existence.

“My brothers the heir, not me. I’ve got the wrong parts and wrong proclivity for parts,” she explained. Will liked her. She was frank, simple. You liked that about her too but you weren’t sure if you exactly liked her.

“Didn’t answer my question,” you retorted. 

“I’m here for a character reference. Patient to patient. To the secretary I suppose. What do you think of Dr. Lecter’s therapy?” That was a question you left entirely up to Will.

“Depends what you’re in therapy for,” he admitted. 

“I’m in therapy for all sorts of reasons. The Vergers slaughter eight-six thousand cattle a day and thirty-six thousand pigs, depending on the season. That’s just the public carnage.” She tapped her foot against the ground in time. 

“What’s your private carnage?” Will questioned. Margot glanced at you, like she had just been expecting Will to be here. Still, she spoke with courage. 

“I tried to murder my brother.” Will and you both studied her.

“I assume he had it coming,” Will suggested.

“Did he ever,” she scoffed. She paused a moment. “What’s your private carnage?” Will thought about answering. He glanced at you and you shrugged, taking a sip of your glass.

“I tried to murder Dr. Lecter.” 

“See now, that’s interesting.” Margot mulled over this. “Did he have it coming?” Will debates answering that and doesn’t.

“What do you think?” 

“I can't’ say that I know.” 

-

You sat patiently in your home. You were flipping through a book, wondering if you had the desire to put brain energy into reading it. You and Will were simply existing as you had been denied so long with the whole prison thing.

You had just decided to grab some food when your phone rang.

“Hello?” you asked, voice distracted as you walked to the kitchen. You walked over to Will and put your cheek against his shirt, kissing it lightly.

“Y/N?” Hannibal spoke. You pulled away from Will slowly but he noticed your hesitation for the phone call.

“Yes?” 

“I need you to do me a favor.” Will looked at you but you didn’t look at him.

“Yeah?” 

“I need you to come into the office and grab a very important thing I forgot. I would go myself but I have dinner boiling and I hate to ruin a good dish.” You nodded and glanced at Will. 

“Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Text me the details.” You hung up the phone. “I have to get something for Hannibal and bring it to him,” you told Will.

“This late?” 

“He said it was important.” You slipped on your shoes. “You wanna come?” He shook his head and gestured to the dogs.

“I’ll hang out with the dogs.” You nodded and grabbed a jacket. 

“Be safe,” you said and he gave you a look. You walked out onto the porch and started toward the car when you stopped. You looked out at the darkness of the woods and came to a slow stop. 

Something was wrong. 

You weren't sure what but something was wrong. You got into the car and forced the feeling out of your mind. It was probably nothing. You pulled out of the driveway and started down the road.

You made it about two minutes before you felt an overwhelming urge of dread. You closed your eyes for just a second before turning around in the dead end street, going back to the house. You saw Will running back into the house as you pulled up, Buster in his hand and the rifle in the other. You parked quickly and ran inside after him. 

“Will?” you called. He met your eyes and you looked down at the Buster who seemed hurt. “What-” Will grabbed your arm and pulled you toward him before pushing him behind the counter.

The window broke.

-

You sat in a chair at the dinner table of Hannibal’s home. Will stood behind the chair of the head of the table. 

Hannibal opened the door and you both looked up at him. Hannibal's eyes landed on the dead body of the man who Will had killed this evening. The man that you had helped him kill. The man who had attacked you in your home.

“I send someone to kill you,” Will started. “You send someone to kill me.” 

The air was tense. You were tense. They were tense.

“Even steven.”

2x10

[luxshine]

As I finished reading It (video already up for Patreons, but if you don't want to join up for the very, very low price of 1 USD a month, you can wait for Monday), there are some things I REALLY Wish someone had the guts to adapt in a future new remake (That should be, really, a mini series of at LEAST 10 episodes, hell, make it animated and let Steven Webber voice Pennywise)

1./ The ACTUAL Narrative Structure of the novel (More about that in my video) 2./The Derry Interludes with the story of the town and how it grew under It's influence. 3./Frigging Patrick Hocksetter's death. Like, you want gruesome? THAT'S Gruesome. 4./The REAL rite of Chud, with the Deadlights and the Macroverse because holy shit, That was Richie Tozier's BAMF moment. 5./Beverly Marsh's real BAMF moments. None of that Damisel in Distress crap that 2017 gave us.

6./Mike Hanlon's BAMF moments. Stop giving HIS story to Ben. I like Ben, but Mike is BAMF too. 7./The REAL final confrontation with It, to explain that no, It is not a frigging giant spider (see again point 4 about the Deadlights) 8./The ACTUAL final fate of Derry. The novel describes it as "Steven Spielberg, eat your heart out" and I wanna SEE that, damn it!

Things they can keep out:

The Sewer scene. We really don't need the sewer scene even if in the novel context it makes sense.

Things from the adaptations that were not in the novels that they can keep:

Richie's updated job and sexuality. DJs are pretty much a thing of the past for many people on one hand, and on the other, the changes make sense, it can even be defended with a reading of the novel, and it works well with the real ending.

The Losers still remembering each other at the end. I mean, yes, in the novel it makes sense they forget, but I want Ben and Bev happy ever after, and the rest of the Losers bond to last .

Oh, Have I forgotten to mention that It is among my three top favorite King novels and every time I re-read it I end up with MORE things I noticed? :D

[tsukidrama]

hello!!

omg i listened to hange’s eng dub and… youre right it doesnt match 😭. it sounds like a disney channel voice, which isn't bad in itself but not in this context. i wouldn’t roast you for liking/not liking dub voices don’t worry, as i said there are some i can’t stand in my own language. it’s pretty hard to do better than romi park too, though the french va does a pretty good job (i found an extract here if you’re interested! you can hear a few others too, mikasa and erwin are pretty bad imo) and sometimes her voice sounds pretty hot, at least to me ahjdkfhdf. but i also watch in sub except when i’m watching it with someone and the japanese cast is really great in general.

im telling you, i couldn't get through 30 seconds... romi park EATS every role she has and she alone is enough to keep me on team sub tbh. i tend to default to subs when watching anime anyway.

kaj,nbsd,jfnsdk her voice is definitely a little sexy, catch me letting the whole video clip play just so i could listen to her talk 😭 also idk what it is but the way she looks without her glasses + the eye bandage just. .oohoo hohoh ohhphho (i groaned out loud when mikasa started talking, i hate it??? - jean's VA is killin it though).

and that’s including yelena WHO WAS SO GREAT IN THE LAST EP, i’m so glad you converted me to her cause between the two parts of the season because UGH akejzhfkjgfjhfezqkjfhzlf what a woman. bat shit crazy and hot woman. mappa did her SO GOOD. and that was a really good distraction to everything happening around because next week’s episode is going to be ROUGH for everyone. (spoiler alert if non manga readers are reading this, don’t continue) but porco’s death should be next week right? same for colt. i think it’s impossible to not be moved by what’s going to happen even if you don’t like the characters. isayama and mappa are great at making us sad about every character.

YESSSSSS I'D BEEN WAITING FOR THE AIRSHIP BOW SINCE THE PART 1 TRAILER DROPPED and in my heart i knew we would have to wait like a year but it was worth it. so much shit is about to hit the fan but it's a .001% reprieve every time her crazy ass limbers into view. i'm so excited for some of her cuter passive moments after the fighting.

[anime spoilers below]

yep :// almost definitely. last week's episode ended on the same cliffhanger as chapter 118, and 119 is where everything goes tits up. crispy colt, porco's literal fucking skull, falco's traumatizing rubber chicken titan, and then the 119 cliffhanger is the gunshot decapitation. im gonna lose my shit. typically mappa tends to put more like 1 1/2 or 2 chapters per episode, but A LOT is about to happen next week. personally i hope they show paths even it's just for a moment and makes me wanna rip my hair out when we see the to be continued...

as the oldest of all my siblings, colt's death hits me as one of the worst in the entire series. i can't, it literally guts me. i don't even care about him. and i don't even want to talk about porco (A TOTAL LIE) he's just such a sad character, i get so upset over him. he's such an asshole but it still hurts so bad... and then i ended up getting more attached to him when s4 was animated him as the sexiest mf man i've ever seen 😩 and now he is my husband so this next week will suck. and then i can quickly

i promise i wont send you tiktoks all the time but i saw this one and it reminded me too much of the latest trnt chapters to not send it to you.

have a lovely rest of your week! i hope you’re doing well.

-j

i like the tiktoks! jda;slkjlkn very true and canon. best part of emotionally healing lesbian relationships.

i'm hanging in there! i hope you have a good week too, good luck this sunday lmaooo

[uh--nope]

Blue Lock English Dub VA Headcanons

Lets immediately clear some things up.

•No, I dont know if theres an anime out for blue lock let alone a dub

•These are just my opinions and ideas aka HEADCANONS. This is like my personal dream cast for the english dub

•I'd love to see if anyone else has differing ideas or who they would like to see in the subbed ver.

Now let's begin~

Isagi Yoichi-Justin Briner

Every time I hear Briner's voice its always a character thats super soft or has immense baby energy (ex. Deku). And its easy for him to voice soft characters because hes soft and a literal fetus himself so I wanna challenge Briner. Just go apeshit my dude. Isagi is perfect because hes soft sometimes, but when the game starts, he's top tier serious. Also, I just wanna hear Briner curse someone out or aggressively tell someone to "MOVE!".

I'm tired of baby Briner I want BHAD BHABEY BRINER

Bachira Meguru

(AKAmywife)

I wanna cheat and say Briner again (and it doesn't help that I keep hearing Bachira as Hanako from Toilet-bound Hanako). But I actually have two other people in mind: Johnny Yong Bosch and Byrson Baugus

I think Bosch did well as Sarihiku from K: Return of the Kings and as Chakuro in Children of the Whales. Now Imma need both of them in one voice.

Baugus just needs to bring Chaotic Hinata tbh.

Chigiri Hyoma- Daman Mills

I always think that Chigiri has Disney princess vibes. And it doesn't help that Smooth-voiced Criminal Daman Mills is all I hear when he talks.

As a second choice maybe Clint Bickham. I loved Kenma's low, whispery tones. I just want those tones to be a little more cockier...?????

Kunigami Rensuke- Christopher Sabat

Sabat has literal Dad energy. Since Kunigami want to be a hero style soccer player and Sabat also voices the number one hero, All Might, I think it would be kind of fitting to have him play the Dad of this series.

Nagi-Eric Vale

Lowkey I wanna cheat again and say Mills or Bickham

ericvalekillschildrenisanoldjokefromfiveyearsagowhenhe

voicedavampirethatkilledabunchofchildrenandimsopressed

tosaythisjokebutdontwannacauseanycancelations

He's voiced swauve charcters, but theres this softness in his voice thats just about right for Nagi

Or

Or

Or

Mathew Mercer.

Rin-Micah Solusod

He can do it. I know he can. Why? I just have a gut feel thats all.

No, I actually, I have a better reasoning.

Rin's voice in my head has this raspy undertone especially when hes saying Isagi's skills are lukewarm or it doesn't make his heart dance.

Barou

I feel like Barou is always yelling at people. Its only when hes eating or doing something as mundane as walking that he chills out. I feel like Ty Mahany or David Wald can do it.

I'm also super tempted to throw Clifford Chapin (Bakugo's VA), but Barou needs to be baritone boy. AND I MEAN BARITONEEEE BOY. So I'll throw in Joe Daniels in there just because of that.

Reo

When I first saw Chigiri I thought he was a lil overdramatic princess, but Reo is truely Drama Queen(TM). So I want him to have a nice balance of bratty but he also knows what hes doing...time to time. I wanna throw Ian Sinclair out there. Blake Jackson did pretty good in Run with the Wind so I think he or Jarrod Greene have the ability to bring Reo in existence.

Junpachi Ego

Ego has this local-weirdo-cares-for-no-one attitude. As well as this throatyness(?) in my head. So I'll cheat again and say Eric Vale maybe...? Or even better Aaron Dismuke. Yeah, definitely Dismuke is performance with Senku (from Dr. Stone) was the kind of cocky attitude voice that I would hear in my head when reading. It shouldnt sound like Senku, but a more crazier(?), softer(??) tone(?????).

Other actors I would like to hear

Justin Cook as a second for Kunigami

Trina Nishimura or Caitlin Glass as Anri

Alex Organ as Jyubei Aryu

Conclusion

Making a VA headcanon list is hard lol. Its like looking up what sort voices are in your head while also making sure you dont forget what they sound like while also trying to remember what other character VA had voiced sounded like. What does that mean? No, I didnt look up how VA sounded like, I just looked at their "Behind the Voices" page and tried to remember what that character sounded like. If I couldnt remember I kept scrolling until I found one I did...as if I'm some sort of casting director lol

Does anyone else have any (better) suggestions?

[mymymadeline]

•Friendly Dark

gif by: @chrishemsworht​​

pairing: Hallmark Christmas Movie Au! Poe Dameron x Reader 

word count: 6.9k+ words 

summary: 

warnings: alcohol cw

Adore You series: 01, 02, 03, 04, ... - AO3

Even though you’re on vacation, you are far from exempt from your work. And nothing is proving that more than the headache you nurse as you continue pouring over document after document on your tablet. Numbers and figures, charts and graphs, blueprints and sketches, even interviews and gossip articles – they’re all blending together after staring at the screen for what’s likely been hours. 

Snoke’s call the night before was not a social one – they never are. He was going on about some acquisition Kylo’s been trying to make for the past few months, and apparently, he was missing something crucial, which is where you usually come in. The two of you have always been a team for a reason. He was more of the passion and ideas, whereas you were better with relations and logistics. 

Snoke had immediately sent over hundreds of digital files for you to go through and find… well something. Most likely some kind of professional blackmail. Some kind of small violation or incident that would really be such a shame if it came to the media's attention. You know, the usual. 

So far, everything they’ve done is up to code, as far as you can tell. But Snoke won’t take no for an answer. He’d have your head for it. So you continue looking through page after page, searching for some dirt, searching for any kind of upper hand on the competition. 

After coming back in that night while on the phone with Snoke, you blew past your parents and went straight up to your room, where you’ve been for almost the entirety of this Sunday. You couldn’t even face them after that absolute embarrassment of an evening. And though this morning you did stalk around the house if only to get a thing or two to eat, you pointedly ignored your mother, only giving your father a small silent nod of acknowledgment. 

Stealing away to your room for a full day of silent, frustrating work was not exactly your idea of a fun vacation back home, but neither was last night. Just the thought of running into Poe again makes you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment and stress. He probably thinks you’re an idiot now. Probably never wants to see you again. And who could blame him if he did? 

If you were a different woman, you’d probably have shed a few embarrassed tears in the solitude of your room, but that wasn’t you. Not anymore. So you rub your eyes once again, and get back to work.

You’re back to staring at a tax filing by the company’s CEO from seventeen years ago when a notification pops up at the top of your screen.

Unknown Number

hey! its rose! i got ur number from when you called the shop lol hope thats not creepy

i was wondering if ur busy tonight? i was thinking of getting drinks w/ some friends at Kanata’s! wanna come? i can pick u up since ur ride is chopped ;)

You blink back at the notification. Drinks? At Kanata’s? 

You can’t remember the last time you actually went out with a group of friends, especially for fun. Taking clients you and Kylo were wooing out to dinner was a common occurrence. But fun? They were never.

Another wave of anxiety washes over you. Friends? Who were these friends? Would they like you? Did you know them? Maybe it would be better to just stay and finish your work. Nothing could go wrong if you did that.

You open the message, absolutely ready to type an excuse why you can’t come, when there’s a gentle knock at your door. You already recognize it as your mother by the way she knocks even before she calls out gently. 

“Love? You in there?”

“I’m here.” You leave your voice flat and emotionless. You need her to know you’re still mad.

“Can… Can I come in?” 

‘No’ dances on the tip of your tongue for a strong moment, but the uncertainty in her soft voice gives you pause. 

“...Okay.”

The door clicks open slowly and your mother pokes her head in, a small, nervous smile affecting her features. You only look at her blankly from your nest of blankets and pillows that have been on your bed since high school.

She steps more fully into the room, closing the door behind her most of the way. She leaves it open just a little, giving the both of you some air to breathe, but also, in a way, making sure not to lock herself in a cage with a wounded animal. 

And she approaches you like one–cautious, hands visible and apologetic. You huff, curled up in the corner of your bed, and try to look anywhere but at her. But she’s hard to avoid as she sits gently on the far edge of your bed and pulls her hands into her lap, looking down and rolling them over one another contemplatively. You two sit like this for a moment, simmering in the uncomfortable tension, but like hell you’re the one with anything to apologize for. 

She lets out a deep sigh. “I’m… so, so sorry… about my behavior last night. I suppose I just… wasn’t handling your absence as well as I thought I was.”

Despite the small sorrow your heart finds at her small and broken tone, the anger–rage even– that has been boiling since the night before claws desperately to be let out. You breathe deeply, and do your best to keep it still in its place. But that doesn’t exclude the fury that seeps into your quiet voice, as you level your gaze with hers.

“Mom, that was the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in my entire professional career. I need you to know this.”

She nods understandingly and looks back to her fiddling hands. “Yes. I know. And I couldn’t be sorry enough. I realized...I– I don’t know how to be your mother anymore.” You blink at this. A terrible lurch in your gut crawls into your throat at the sight of the tears silently beginning their descent down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do for you when you're a grown woman who’s accomplished so much on her own without me. I miss you, but I’m not really sure I know you anymore.”

She looks up suddenly at you, her face twisted with grief and regret.

“I didn’t mean it like that… I-”

You stop her, shaking your head, swallowing the lump in your throat, willing the sudden strange wetness in your eyes away. Your voice comes out more choked up than you wish. But whatever wall was up is quickly crumbling away.

“No… Mom, I think I understand.” You look down at your own hands now, picking at your nails nervously, silently discovering the lineage of this habit of yours. You smile sadly at the thought. “I feel that way too sometimes… about myself.”

“Oh, love.” Your mother reaches out, placing her hand on your foot, the only part of you she can reach, and squeezes it gently. She smiles sweetly, her eyes and cheeks still wet, though she’s wiped away the tears.

“You’re not my little girl anymore… but you’re still my daughter, and I’ll love you no matter what.”

You nod, suppressing a sniff as you rub at your nose. She squeezes your foot one more time before standing up and making her way back to the door. She reaches for the handle when you call out. 

“I love you, Mom.”

The smile she sends you is genuine, heartfelt, and warming to your core. It makes you realize how much you truly missed your mother, even if she had her difficulties. “I love you too, girlie.”

With that, she closes the door, leaving you alone with your tablet and the unanswered message. But you know your response now. 

Me

Sounds fun! Let me know what time. I’d love to come, if you’ll have me.

You begin entering Rose’s information into your contacts and her response is almost immediate.

Rose Tico

duuuh! ill get u at like 8ish? and we’ll meet them there! cant wait!

You look down at the message and can’t help but feel a little more at home. 

______________

 You run a hand through your hair, adjusting your outfit for the hundredth time. You’ve opted for something more casual tonight. Something a little more friendly, approachable. You suddenly frown at your reflection. You don’t need these people’s approval. Well, no. But it wouldn’t be so bad to be friendly for once would it?

The two voices in your head continue to battle it out, leaving you frozen in the mirror, desperately trying to understand how you feel in this moment. Anxious? Perhaps. Regretful of accepting this invitation? Maybe. 

Your phone chirps, lighting up on your desk. Glancing over, you see it’s Rose. You don’t need to read it to know it’s just her announcing her arrival, but you pick it up anyway, settling down on your bed and slipping on your shoes as you open the message.

Rose Tico

here!!! right in front lol

Me

One moment!

You lace up your boots quickly, practically sprinting out of your room and down the stairs, snatching up your long coat on the way. 

“I’m headed out, I won’t be back until you guys are already in bed. So, goodnight.”

You call out to the living room as you pull on the coat, your parents turning from their seats on the couch, eyeing you with interest.

“And where are you going this late, young lady?” Your father questions sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

“Out with friends,” you rush, already halfway out the door, spotting Rose in her car and giving a small wave. “Love you, bye!”

Half-jogging down the steps, you cross quickly but cautiously through the snow-laden yard, careful not to slip. As you close the gate behind you, Rose is already opening the passenger door from the inside, beckoning you in.

“Get inside, it’s freezing!”

You allow yourself a small laugh and slide into the seat next to her. Pulling the door closed, you look around, taking in the space of the car, as she starts it back up and pulls away from the curb. 

Like most things in The Base, it’s worn and old, peeling and chafed, likely held together with duct tape and love. But despite all of its imperfections, it’s not only comfortable, it’s cozy. It’s warm and personal, every dent containing a story, every mile meaningful. 

You can’t help but think back to the chill rigid efficiency of your TIE. Sure, it gets the job done, and is mighty stylish while it does so, but you’ve never felt like it was yours. Never felt anything but cool indifference for its sleek lines and dark exterior. 

“So, you’re looking snazzy tonight.” Rose pulls you out of your thoughts with her cheery tone. 

You look down at your outfit, once again tugging at its hems. 

“Am I? I was actually trying to dress down.”

She laughs at that. “You think that’s dressing down? No way, this is dressing down.” She takes one hand off the wheel, gesturing at her own attire: A brown button-up with a sewn name tag and a pair of dark cargo pants. Likely the uniform she wore to work today. Her cool attitude and smooth voice put you at ease, and you can feel your guard begin to lower. 

“I like this on you,” you quietly praise. You pick at your nails, continuing, “Don’t take this the wrong way, please, but… I admire that you can wear clothes like that and feel comfortable. I feel like I have to dress up all the time, no matter what. I don’t know… I- Nevermind.”

You look up at Rose and she pulls her eyes away from the road for a moment to give you a meaningful look. She nods sympathetically, her previous lightness replaced by understanding. She realizes the weight of this seemingly minor admission.

“I get it, I do.” She gives you a soothing smile. “I just hope you can feel comfortable here… with us. We like having you back, even if just for a moment.”

Still smiling, she turns back to the wheel with a light shrug. “Plus, this isn’t Canto Bight. You’ll look great no matter what.”

You groan, half sardonic, half-serious. “Oh, please don’t remind me. You know, I thought I was a vulture, but those people,” you give an audible shiver. “They’re something else.”

Rose laughs melodically. “Oh, do tell.”

______________

 The ride to the bar is short, the car only really needed for warmth, but the company is appreciated. Rose laughs along to your story of once attempting to cover for Kylo’s drunken rage in front of investors, and while it was a very unamusing situation at the time, you find yourself chuckling with her. 

“Well, that’s why we don’t let him have Bespin Fizzes anymore.”

Rose giggles at that, before piping up in her seat a little. “There it is!”

The bar comes into view just ahead, a familiar neon sign reading Kanata’s hanging overhead a small brick building. The parking lot is compact, but practically full, reminding you just how small the town is, as Kanata’s is the only real bar in the whole Base, and as such, is the town’s favorite happy hour hangout. 

She leans up the dashboard, pointing to an old, grey, junky Corellian that’s as familiar to the town as the bar. 

“There’s the Falcon,” she points out with a smile, though you don’t need her to tell which car it is. “They’re here.”

You nod, smiling at the old hunk of junk fondly, before suddenly realizing what the Falcon’s presence implies. She pulls up to the spot next to it as you turn to her.

“Wait, we’re getting drinks with Han? ” You try not to sound upset, only curious, but Rose reads your panic easily. 

“No, silly,” she giggles, and seems to dodge the question, stepping out of the car. You quickly follow behind, stepping out into the chill night air. Closing the doors, Rose rounds the car and you trail next to her, past the Falcon and towards the bar's entrance. She continues her explanation without you having to ask. 

“About five years ago, Han gave the Falcon away.”

“He gave it away? Why would he do that? To who?” 

She pushes open the door, leading you into the dimly lit bar, which you only now realize with its unfamiliar interior, that you never stuck around to be old enough to actually enter it. The lights are low, yellow and red, but not unwelcoming, in fact creating a warm atmosphere. It’s brightest around the bar itself, with neon and string lights, as patrons sit on the stools, chatting over the low playing jukebox on the far side of the room. Near it are a couple of pool tables, busy with players in the middle of games. A few locals drink in booths against the walls, however Rose leads you towards the high tables and stools in the middle of the room. You’re scanning the bar for anyone you recognize when you finally see where she’s leading you– to the only couple occupying the tables, and your heart drops into your stomach as your fight or flight instinct kicks in. 

“To them!” Rose points but once again you don’t need her helpful hand to see what you need to.

At the table is a girl you don’t recognize with a sweet face and dark hair, but it’s the familiar face next to her that makes you want to run.

Finn, your old classmate, but more importantly your old employee, sits smiling and laughing, casual as anything. You knew Finn left First Order – on very bad terms, one would be remiss to forget – after a fateful trip home for somewhere less cutthroat and competitive, but you thought that meant somewhere like Alderaan. You didn’t think he’d come back, and you certainly didn’t think you’d actually see him here.  

Rose doesn’t notice your hesitation, continuing to pull you forward and calling out to her friends. She catches their attention, waving, and you brace for the moment of impact. 

Finn is going to be mad that you’re here. He’s going to be furious. He’s going to stand up and yell at Rose about how awful of a person you are and make sure nobody in this town will even so much as smile at you ever again. He’s going to laugh in your face and tell you to go back to Coruscant and you’ll do it because you’re so deeply embarrassed.

The girl turns first, smiling and waving back at Rose. She grins brightly at you as well, obviously unfamiliar but still friendly. Finn turns second with an easy expression, glancing at you briefly before doing a double-take. His face falls, but not into anger like you expect. It drops to confusion, like he’s making sure it’s you, which then turns into half-smug disbelief, a bewildered smile taking over his features. 

Finn speaks first. “No-freaking-way.”

Tension still wracks your body as he steps off the stool, meeting you and Rose in front of the table. Rose looks between the two of you before dropping your hand and covering her eyes.

“Oh my God, I totally forgot about the whole…” She looks to you apologetically, not towards Finn, which confuses you. “I’m so sorry I forgot to say.”

“No, I- it’s okay. I just hope I’m not intruding.” It seems that this town just loves to leave you at a loss for words.

Finn laughs, seemingly completely at ease. “Not unless you’re here to talk about work. Or to try to win me back.”

“God, no. Not that we wouldn’t love to have you back but,” you glance quickly at the friendly girl still sitting at the table, obviously confused. “I understand that you’re much happier here.”

“That I am.”

“Then that’s all I care about.”

Rose absolutely buzzes with energy at the exchange. “Yay! So we’re all still friends and everything?” Her hands are clasped and her hopeful eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you. 

You turn your gaze back to Finn, hoping that you look as genuine as he does. “I hope so.”

“I don’t see any reason why not,” He smiles warmly at you, offering his hand. “Besides, you weren’t exactly the one that left me with a bad taste in my mouth.”

You take his hand easily, and just barely manage to quell your surprise when he uses it to tug you into a warm hug. The recent bombardment of hugs you’ve received in the past few days is the only thing that gets your arms moving properly, wrapping loosely around Finn for a moment before you part. 

As you pull back, an awkwardness comes to hang in the air as a silence settles between the four of you. You suddenly remember the girl at the table seemingly the same moment that Finn does. He pipes up, turning towards her and half leading you to the table where they were sitting. 

“Right, uh, Rey, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine.” 

You extend a hand and introduce yourself to the woman, Rey, and she lets out an awkward laugh as she takes it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was a bit, erm, hesitant to intrude on the moment. Seems like there’s a lot of history going on here.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Finn laughs before his nose scrunches up in thought. “Actually, you might have some idea. You know the place I used to work before we met?”

Rey’s face twists in disgust. “You mean that awful tech company? God, you couldn’t stop talking about how awful it was for almost a year. Must’ve been terrible. Did you work there too?” 

She looks to you as your cheeks heat up and you can't help the grimace that creeps into your expression. “I actually still do.” 

Finn opens his mouth but Rey beats him to it. “Oh no, that must be awful. What do you do? Get yelled at all day by some tall blonde woman like Finn did?” She chuckles at her own joke, but she’s the only one. Finn and Rose look like they’d rather be anywhere else. Probably at the bar. With strong drinks. Yet, you feel a chill indifference wash over you. The one you feel whenever you walk through the doors of the First Order offices and meetings. 

“Actually I’m the COO.”

Rey’s jaw slackens with the shock, mouth starting and stopping any words she attempts to get out. “I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” Finn has his head fully in his hands and Rose looks like she might die. But you smile softly.

“It’s okay. I’ve heard far worse before. From people whose opinions were far more important.”

The urge to storm out tugs at your gut but your feet stay planted. It’s strange. You’re not quite sure what emotion it is that you’re feeling exactly. There’s anger, but it’s the blow to your pride that fuels it. There’s certainly embarrassment. Mostly, you realize it’s guilt. Guilt that the company you worked so hard to build has hurt people - people that you care about. You knew it happened, probably every day, probably right at this moment, but being faced with the conversations that people must be having behind your back… It hurts. It hurts in many directions. 

“Drinks!” Rose chirps loudly, desperate to break the tension. “I’ll go get us some drinks!”

She spins on a dime and immediately heads towards the bar. Looking between you and Rey, Finn gulps. “She’ll probably need some… help with those…” He’s immediately out of his chair and trailing behind Rose. 

Rey sits quietly, a thoughtful look on her face as you finally take a seat on the stool across from her. The silence hangs for a moment as the jukebox croons quietly in the background. 

“I really didn’t mean it that way,” Rey starts quietly. “It’s just…” She leans towards you, elbows resting in front of her on the table. Her eyes are earnest, kindness pouring forth. “Finn was miserable when we met in Jakku. Work was stressing him out to no end, but mostly… he felt like he was hurting people. He had a stable and successful job but… what did it cost him? All he ever wanted to do was help people.” She sighs, and a small smile tugs at her lips. “I like to think I helped him, but really, he knew all along what he had to do. I’m so grateful that we’re both here now, working with the kids, helping people where it feels like it really matters. I can’t speak for you, but it sounds like you’re proud of your company, and I’m glad but… It just wasn’t right for Finn. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

You’re momentarily stunned by her small speech. Not just the words but her honesty. You can tell from the tone of her voice just how much she cares for Finn and how much she believes in their cause. You find a small stain on the table, gazing at it intensely in thought. You’ve just wanted to help people too, all your life, but making something of yourself always came first it seemed. You told yourself you were helping people, creating new things that made so many people’s lives easier, donating intensely to charities, but how many people were you hurting on the way? How many times can you tell yourself that some eggs must be cracked to make an omelette? How many people have you screwed over, blackmailed, and outright stolen from? How many shady people have you bought from or sold to? How many things have you ignored or swept under the carpet just to keep business running as usual?

“If it helps… Finn always spoke highly of you.” 

You look up as Rey draws you out of your thoughts, something she obviously picks up on going by her smile. 

“Well… He’s a good man. A good friend before he was an employee… I didn’t mean what I said either - about your opinion not mattering. That’s not true, I just…” You trail off, but look up to find comfort and forgiveness in her warm expression. You give her a small genuine smile of your own. “Maybe we should just start over.”

You extend a hand, introducing yourself and she does the same, laughing lightly as she does so. At that moment, Rose and Finn come shuffling over, each balancing a tray with a few colorful drinks and rounds of shots. Placing the trays on the table, Finn eyes your smiles and parting hands. 

“Are you guys… Is everything good now?”

You nod, laughing. “Yes, I think we just got off on the wrong foot.”

“And we’re just here to have a good time and hang out - no work talk.” Rey winks at Finn. He lets out a hearty laugh, clapping you two on the back. 

“Oh, you two are good.”

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” Rose cuts in. She looks absolutely tickled pink, poorly suppressing her roguish grin. Finn and Rey raise an eyebrow in unison, seemingly used to this behavior. 

Rose giggles, “I invited Poe!” 

You instantly feel your heart rate pick up and a gentle heat rise in your cheeks, but it seems your the only one excited about this development. Rey only sighs with an unamused laugh. Rolling his eyes, Finn shakes his head, “That’s not exactly a surprise.” He turns to you. “She invites him out every time. And every time he says no. ‘Too busy.’”

“He never just relaxes,” Rey chimes in. “We’re constantly inviting him out, even inviting ourselves into the shop occasionally, but he’s just so dedicated to his work. It’d be admirable if it wasn’t so annoying.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Rose waves her hands around, as if attempting to dispel the negative comments in the air before they reach you. “BUT… I told him a certain special someone was gonna be here!” 

Finn and Rey both turn to you, Rey holding an expression of curiosity and Finn looking at you with new eyes, the gears turning almost visibly in his head. Did she mean you? Everyone seems to be looking at you expectantly so… she must be. Sure, Poe seems to like you well enough but… This is behavior that seems to have been going on for years. How could your presence possibly change that?

“Wh- Me?” You ask, turning to Rose at a sudden loss for words. “Why- What makes me special?”

Rose rolls her eyes so hard her head can’t help but follow. “You are so oblivious. And so special.”

Finn nods, with a grin you can only describe as ‘shit-eating.’ 

“Of course.” He bites his lip deviously. “This is gonna be so fun.”

“Really wha-”

You’re cut off by the sound of the blowing snow and wind as the door creaks open behind you. As if on cue, each of your heads swivel to the entrance to see the door swinging shut behind Poe shaking the snowflakes out of his hair, cheeks ruddy from the outside cold. He looks up from tugging his gloves off to see the four of you gawking at him. If he can tell he just walked in on a discussion of himself, he doesn’t show it. He practically beams at the four of you, but lets his eyes settle on yours.

“Hey guys.”

“This is gonna be so fun,” You hear Finn whisper behind you. 

You fail miserably at trying to hide your smile, but you know it’s for the best. 

______________

 “God, I know it’s embarrassing but... that’s so funny.” Rey chuckles with red cheeks, thoroughly amused.

“But it’s so embarrassing,” You exclaim, a little louder than you’re usually comfortable with but the drinks you’ve been slowly consuming for the past two hours have loosened your tongue just a bit. 

Finn continues to shake his head in laughter. “I do love your mom, though. I wanna thank her for that one. A proper Base welcome.”

“C’mon, it really wasn’t so bad,” Poe laughs. 

Once he’d arrived, everyone made quick work of getting him a drink and dragging over a stool, planting him firmly and snuggly between you and Rose. Small pleasantries and catching up eventually turned into you and Poe recounting the previous night's dinner and conversation at the strong behest of the rest of the group. It mostly consisted of you complaining and apologizing to Poe and him simply laughing it off, attempting to placate your worries. Finn, Rey, and Rose simply watched in entertainment, soaking up every juicy detail. 

“Really, you have to stop beating yourself up about it. You’ll drive yourself insane.” Poe places a hand on your shoulder, sending a little shiver of electricity through your body that you desperately try to curb. You look down at his hand on your shoulder and are struck with the desire to see it as often as possible. Meeting his eyes, they are warm and kind and cause you to immediately lose whatever it was you were going to just say. You are now very aware of just how buzzed you are. 

“I’ll… I’ll try.” You give him a small smile and he accepts it readily, his own smile growing. Over your shoulder, Finn must catch his eye because he swiftly turns his head back to his drink on the table and clears his throat. His hand gives you a small pat and quickly retreats back to his lap. His hand makes a loose fist and you miss its warmth. 

“Well,” Rose starts. “It’s getting late and I am so beat. I should get going.” 

Rose gives a meaningful glance at Finn and Rey, “Isn’t it a school night? You guys should get going too. Don’t want to have to show a video tomorrow.”

Finn’s eyes widen a bit and Rey nods fervently. 

“Yes, absolutely. You’re so right, Rose.” Finn begins standing up from his stool. “C’mon, Rey, we should be off.”

Those fucking conspirators. You know you should be grateful - they’re trying very hard to set you up with your high school crush - but all you can feel is panic. You’re an expert at talking to people, from brokering deals to conducting yourself in interviews and even giving presentations, you’ve trained and practiced in the art of discussion. But for some reason, just being in the same room as Poe makes your brain short circuit. Your mind constantly pulls back and forth whether to close off and shut him out or loosen up and actually let him in. It’s barely been three days but it feels like so much longer. And that’s terrifying.

“Uh-Wh- Are you guys okay to drive?” You sputter.

Finn sends you a reassuring smile as he grabs Rey by the shoulders, “Rey might not be in any state to drive, but I’m totally fine. I’ve had maybe two drinks in the past couple hours. Don’t worry.” 

Rose is off her stool too, gathering her coat. “Could you maybe drop me off too? I’d just walk but it’s so damn cold.”

“No problem, Rose.”

“What about me? I’m supposed to walk then?” You interject, flustered. “Rose, you drove me here.”

Rose gives an exaggerated look of cluelessness, giving you a shrug before looking over at Poe.

Breaking his momentary silence, Poe gives you a nod. “Yeah, I can give you a ride if you want.” 

You can only nod along. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you.”

Rose lets out a little squeal, scrambling over to give you a kiss on the cheek and skip out the door, calling out goodbyes over her shoulder. You can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh along with Finn and Rey, both of them giving you and Poe sidehugs before taking their exit as well. 

As the doors swing shut and the silence between you settles, you glance around at the bar. There are about half as many people as there were a few hours ago but the place doesn’t feel empty by any means. The few patrons still mill about, some playing pool, some chatting at the bar. You sigh contently at the sight, something Poe catches as he watches you.

“Good to be home?”

You look over, momentarily studying his handsome features in the warm lights as you try to figure out how to answer his question. 

“I don’t know. Like I said before, it’s not really home. And yet it is.”

He nods, thinking for a second. “But are you happy to be here?”

You eye him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m starting to be.”

“Well, I’ll drink to that.” He grins, holding up his bottle. You meet his with your own, both taking a swig with a smile.

As you settle your drinks back on the table, Poe leans over with a lowered voice. Your pulse thrums in your veins. “You know, I actually had a great time last night, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You sigh with chagrin, momentarily closing your eyes to rub at the spot between your brows. 

“Well, I’m glad you had so much fun at my expense.” 

Poe leans away, shutting his eyes in his own embarrassment. 

“That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry.”

You chuckle lightly, a sound that gets Poe to open one eye before breaking into a smile, laughing with you. He leans in again, still smiling but a serious tone overtakes him.

“I really understand if you don’t want to talk about it but… What was your mother talking about… with Ben?”

You feel like a bucket of water has been dumped on you, ruining the easy-going mood you’d let slowly wash over you for the past few hours, but when you look at him, you can’t help but want to tell him everything.

“I just… I’ve only heard bits and pieces about what happened after you graduated. You really… disappeared.”

“Not disappeared,” you say quietly, with grit in your voice. “They just started paying attention to me somewhere else.”

“I paid attention to you,” Poe murmurs. When you catch his eye, he corrects himself. “I mean, we all did.”

You smile sadly, “Yeah, this is different.”

Poe gently knocks your shoulder with his, making you let out a snicker. Glancing over, Poe levels you with a genuine look, with soft eyes and a smile. “I get the feeling you don’t talk about your life often. So, tell me about it.”

He’s right. You never talk about your life, you certainly never regale your story to whoever asks. Doing that requires you to be vulnerable, it requires self-reflection and introspection. It requires you to think about things that you’ve long locked away inside. But… 

“Well, I’m not sure how well you remember, or if you ever noticed but… no one ever really talked to me. Then one day, Ben did. No one ever really talked to him either, so we made a fast pair. He was odd... but he was a real friend to me. I wouldn’t have traded that for anything.”

Poe nods understandably, encouraging you to keep going. 

“We decided to stick together. We got into Imperial University together and got out as quickly as we could. Neither of us… We couldn’t stay here, not with what we planned on doing with our lives. This town… it just wasn’t for us.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot. I get that, too.” Poe takes a drink.

“You do?”

He laughs softly. “Yeah, but that’s a story for another time. Keep going.”

“We learned at school that we worked really well together. Our mentor Snoke realized that, too. He led us, taught us, molded us. He helped us build our company, First Order Tech. He was our first investor, he still sits on the board of directors. Kylo… Ben may be the CEO, but Snoke is still in charge of both of us to this day. It’s our company, we created it from the ground up but… We still bow to him.”

You shake your head. Time for the hard part. Might as well get it out quick and easy.

“Somewhere along the way… I don’t know if it was love. It wasn’t love how it should be - I can tell you that. But, Ben and I… were together. And then he proposed. I don’t think it was because he wanted to. I think he just thought… he was supposed to. Just the natural progression of our lives, I guess.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until the teardrops reach your chin, where they hang heavily before dropping onto your lap. You quickly wipe them away, as Poe once again places a hand on your back, but this time it stays there, his thumb rubbing comfortably back and forth.

“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

“I just,” You sniffle, wiping your nose. Way to break down just as he was warming up to you, kiddo. “I’ve never talked about this before, not really. I don’t even think I’ve ever cried over this before.”

“Anyway, I somehow became lucid enough to call it off a few months before the wedding.” 

You sniff wetly and press the backs of your hands to your eyes, your makeup no doubt ruined by now. Poe’s thumb keeps its motion.

“I just wanted it so bad,” Your voice cracks. The lump that had been caught in your throat breaks free in the form of a sob. “I let myself be blind because I…”

Your hands are shaking and tears run freely down your face.

“I wanted to be loved. And I thought that’s how I would get it. But I woke up.” 

You drop your hands onto the table, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You clench your fists and your voice no longer trembles.

“And I’m glad I did. We’re both better people for it.”

Only now do you chance a look at Poe. You had kept your gaze down, too scared to find what his expression might be, too scared to read his thoughts on his face. But his hand had stayed planted, comforting you. That had to mean something, right?

Looking up, you see only his warm gaze that had assured you deeply enough to get you talking in the first place. It carries a sadness, a kind of worry in the crease between his slightly upturned brows. But you find no disgust. No pity. 

“I wish I knew what to say.”

You chuckle wetly, “You don’t have to say anything. I understand that it’s a lot.”

His hand makes a broad stroke across your back as he leans in once again. 

“There’s actually a lot of things I want to say, but I’m sure you’d hate all of them considering they all sound like condescending things your mom has probably said to you over the years.”

A genuine laugh bubbles out of you at this, a bright smile pulling up your wet mascara stained cheeks. Seeing this, Poe can’t help a smile of his own.

“Things like ‘you’re so brave’ and ‘you poor thing’?” You giggle.

He chuckles, “Yeah something like that, the usuals.”

“Well thank you for sparing me.”

“No problem.” He pauses for a moment. “But really, thank you for telling me.”

He sounds like he means it.

“Thank you for listening, Poe.”

And so do you.

You sit like that just for a moment, gazing at each other. You take in the small details, admiring the creases around his eyes, the shape of his jaw, the curls in his hair. He seems to be taking you in as well, his eyes flickering across your features. You see them linger on the stains of your cheeks, turning your head away subconsciously. 

“Ready to go?” He asks softly. 

You smile and nod, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

You wobble just a bit as you get up from your seat, but Poe’s hand is still there to steady you. It stays there as you walk to the door. Stepping out into the cold, you instinctively huddle against him, a move he readily accepts as you walk.

“I’m not always a sad drunk, I promise.”

You feel the rumble of his chest as he laughs gently at your small joke.

“Don’t worry. I believe you.”

The ride is comfortably silent, except for the low hum of the radio as you drive. Pulling up to your house, you want to say something, do something, to thank him for what he did tonight. For driving you home, for listening to you and comforting you as you practically sobbed in his arms, for coming to the bar at all, supposedly just because you were there. 

But you don’t do anything.

“I’ll see you around,” is all you say. 

You hear him swallow as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll see you.”

When you finally slink upstairs and collapse in your bed, you still feel the phantom touch of Poe’s hand across your back. 

-

notes: Whew! Thank you SO much for reading and thanks to all the people who stuck around! It’s been such a long and hard year and I hope everyone is doing okay. I’m determined to make this year great and I hope you all will join me!

I understand it’s been forever so if you’re on the taglist and would like to taken off it, hit me up and I’ll totally understand - and if you’re not on the taglist and would like to be leave a reply or send me a message! love you all <3

taglist: @ikbenplant @jamesdeerest​​ @fortheloveoflamp @operation-spot @asianravenpuff @whovianayesha @ultrunning @nowheredreamer @honestlyjustwow​ @badwolf-212 (for some reason i can never tag you properly :( ) 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #459

“i wanted you to know that i love the way you laugh  /  i wanna hold you high and steal your pain away”

Does the person you like have any flaws? He's never seemed very expressive of what he feels. Has anyone ever given you a ring? Why? Yes. Because it was our anniversary and he wanted to, ig. If you ruled your own country, what type of government would it have? I'm not educated enough to answer this. Creation theory, Evolution or the Big Bang theory? I really don't know what I believe about the origins of the universe, but I do believe in evolution. Describe one of your most emotional farewells. The last time I saw Jason and we talked for a long time, and I finally got my closure. It was all so heavy. It started so stiffly, but it ended with us just chatting and smiling and, to my absolute shock, a hug from him. I'm getting emotional so NEXT QUESTION. What was your last serious conversation about? I was reassuring and comforting Sara about some stuff. Is there a city that you have a particular fondness for? If so, what city is it and why? No. Are there any gnomes in your yard? No. When was the last time you were stung by a bee? What kind was it? Years ago. A bumblebee. Are you gonna buy lottery tickets when you’re old enough? I am old enough, and no. The odds are way, way too small, and I don't really dabble in addictive behavior. Have you ever been into a real cave? No. :( That's a life goal, though. Have you ever posted mean comments on YouTube? I know I did once as a kid. It was regarding Meerkat Manor and I thought it was really disrespectful to Flower just because of the music chosen lmao. The drama. What color is your digital camera, if you have one? Black. If you had to spend one day in any movie storyline, which one would it be? Alice in Wonderland, I suppose? Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): Oh man, I've played waaaaay too many video games. I suppose Silent Hill with how confused it left me at first. Its concept is definitely wild. Parasite Eve is high on the list, too. In your opinion, what is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Boy in the Striped Pajamas destroys me. What is the best song to make out to? I could answer this but I'm not gonna lmfao Is there anyone right now that you are simply/overly infatuated with? story of my life ayyyyeeeee Who was the last person to play with your hair? Are they cute? Not a clue. Who was the last person close to you that died? Did you cry? Jason's mom. I sobbed on-and-off for days. Do you consider yourself a healthy person? Physically and mentally? No, in either way. Do you know anyone who owns a boat? My dad does. I'm sure others, too, with how popular fishing out on a boat is here. Do you know anyone who uses medical marijuana? I don't know. Even for medicinal purposes, it's not legal here. Do you know anyone who’s died in childbirth? No. What did you do for your 21st birthday? I was in the psych hospital, so... lmao. Therapy, reading, and coloring. Lots of reading and coloring. Because they did NOT fill your schedule enough there. We only had two group therapy sessions a day, and the rest was just... blankness. If dinosaurs could be tamed, would you want one as a pet? I know I'd be one of the dumb ones that absolutely wanted a tiny raptor, lol. Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? Not interested. Do you eat soup when you’re sick? I don't like soup. If you read, which book or series did you enjoy most as a child? My first real series that I read religiously was Hank the Cowdog. Then it was Warriors. Do you buy Halloween candy when it’s on sale after the holiday? No. I really don't need candy available to me. Do you agree with the “they’re just being kids” excuse? It depends on what they're doing. In a lot of cases, no. Do you ever watch talk shows? No. Do you have a/any hero(s)? Mark Fischbach, Steve Irwin, my mom... Have you told your parents all of your secrets from when you were a teen? No. Though Mom has playfully once told me that she knows a lot of things I don't think she does, and that's terrifying lmao. You’re getting married. Who’s your maid of honor and best man? M.o.H.: Mom or Sara. Best man isn't my choice. Would you rather get highlights or dye your whole head? DYE IT ALLLLLLL. Are you wearing anything of any sentimental value? Describe? My friendship ring w/ Sara. It has a heart carved on the outside and "bitch" engraved inside so no one can see when you have it on, lol. She has one that says "jerk." It's a Supernatural reference. Who challenges you the most? In what way? My therapist and psychiatrist. They just help ensure I pursue my goals and give me little nudges forward to reassure me. Who seems to hold you back? In what way? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT ME. I listen to my anxiety WAY too much. What was the last opportunity that you passed up, and why? Going up to Lake Gaston w/ Mom to visit Ash and her fam. They go there all the time, and it's a real nice place. I just didn't want to go because of the heat. Should there be an application process for having children? Hunny, that would not stop people from fuckin lmfao Name one thing that you think defines you as a person? m e e r k a t s What is a fear you have about living on your own? That depression would get the better of me and I'd neglect taking good care of my house. One of the many reasons I'll never live alone. Not at all saying I'd leave the responsibilities to my partner, but they'd be motivation for me to get stuff done. What’s the worst name your mom has ever called you? I don't know. Nothing that bad. What’s your stance on spooning? It helps me feel safe and loved and alsdkfjalwe I just love cuddling in all sorts lmao What’s your most recent obsession? Violet Orlandi & Melodicka Bros' cover of "Somebody That I Used to Know." Have you ever been scammed? Ha ha, yes. I once wanted to get Jason a Joker and Harley Quinn pillow from deviantART; talked to the artist, paid 'em, never got it. :^) Have you ever fostered an animal? No. I would get WAY too attached to foster. I wouldn't be able to give them up without breaking down, probs. Do you know anyone who acts way younger than what they are? I'm sure I do, but no one is coming to mind atm. Would you say you’re a pretty independent person? God no. Does the last song you listened to, remind you of someone? JASON. Do you currently want a new computer? Yes, actually. I want a desktop PC for better gaming quality, honestly. Also, the "escape" key doesn't work on this laptop, one key is missing so I have to hit the sensor JUST right, and it restarts randomly sometimes. I want a PC mainly because I want to get out of the habit of being on my laptop in bed all damn day. How would your parents react if you got a tattoo? I already have like six or seven, so they wouldn't be surprised. Is there anyone you can picture yourself being with forever right now? Maybe. Who is your truest friend? Sara. What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? THIS house? Idk. Nothing that I'd consider odd. What bug frightens you most? STAG BEETLES lkadjslkfja;lwekjawl;kejrlawer Who is your oldest friend? That would be Sam, and he's in his mid-30s. How long have you known them? Many years. We met via WoW, which I've been playing since '14. I don't really remember how far into it we met, though. Where are they right now? lol I wouldn't know, he's all the way in Jersey. Plus we haven't talked in a while. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? God no, that would be so weird. What is the best gift someone can give you? An ear to listen without it feeling like a chore to them. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. I don't think I could do it. What is the last movie that made you cry? The The Lion King remake made me tear up. Have you ever played in a waterfall? No. Ugh, that sounds like a blast. In your life who has meant the most to you? Let's not get into this. What has been your biggest failure in life? Letting depression and my other conditions take away my identity, becoming my new identity. Do you trust yourself? No. I second-guess EVERYTHING and never know what I should listen to: my heart, my head, my gut... or which voice is what. Would you ever consider getting an abortion, under any circumstances? Yes. What was the last bug you killed? Some kind in the bathroom. Idk what it was. Just a little thing that sort of resembled an earwig, but not completely. Do you prefer profile pictures by yourself of with someone else? By myself, since it's my page. Do you know anyone who has written a book? I don't think so? Do you drink milk/juice from the carton if no one is around? Ew, no. I live with another person, and even if I didn't, what if I had guests? Has anyone ever told you they liked you in a realllly sweet way? Maybe? Has a member of the opposite sex ever given you jewlery? Jason has. Do you find sleeping in cars easy? NOOOOOOOOOO. I'm too scared to let my eyes close and not see what's going on on the road. Has a boyfriend’s/girlfriend’s parents ever gotten mad at you? Why? I don't believe so, no. What is the funniest thing a child has ever said to you. Definitely something my niece has said, but idr what it was. What’s been on your mind lately? Y'all know, lol. Do you feel like you need to get something off your chest? No. Sara was recently there for that. ♥ How would you react if someone told you they had feelings for you? Be very very excited if it was from a certain person.

[thorne93]

Long Lost Love (Part 5)

Prompt: Clint just lost everything. He turns to you – an old friend and an old flame – for comfort. Can you keep your old feelings at bay? Can he?

Word Count: 4043

Warnings: The Snap, grief, loss, mentions of abuse throughout series, angst will be the best friend in this fic

Note: This was written after IW, but before Endgame - so I have my own take on how certain things happened. Couldn’t have done this without @arrow-guy @carryonmyswansong @like-a-bag-of-potatoes (my amazing betttaa!) @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Aesthetic by @dontshootmespence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For one year, you two did this. You got up at dawn together, ate a quick breakfast, tended to the animals, did the repairs around the farm, went out for supplies, ate dinner, then went to bed separately. 

You kept your word on going into the city every Monday and Wednesday. You didn’t have half as many patients or clients as before, but the money still helped both you and your staff. You kept your apartment in the city too. You needed something familiar after all the craziness. 

Life was… getting better though. Clint smiled more now, he laughed here and there. He was eating better. You really started to believe he was coming out of his grief, ever so slightly. As it turned out, his family wasn’t the only one he lost in what the Avengers called “The Snap”. Apparently, quite a few people he cared about were gone too. Wanda Maximoff and Sam Wilson being some of them. 

He didn’t much keep in contact with the team. You tried to encourage him to, but he said every time he called them it just reminded him of what he lost. You didn’t quite understand, but you respected him enough not to push it. 

One day, a pipe in the barn had rusted out, so Clint got the things to fix it but he ran out of plumbers tape and needed a monkey wrench. Two things he thought he had brought in his toolbox, but apparently not. He asked you to go grab them from the garage. You nodded and jogged for a bit back to the garage. It was a really hot, dry day and you felt like you needed two showers. The weeds were tall and dry and you couldn’t wait for the next rain to get some of this dust down. 

You got into the garage looking for the plumbers tape. Clint had never organized this freaking mess. You started pulling out bins from a shelf when you looked inside one, you found an old wedding album. It was covered in dust, but it was lace covered. You frowned and opened it. The tools were long forgotten. 

Inside of the book were pictures of Clint and Laura… It was like a punch to the gut.

Both of them stood with giant grins on their faces. They had the typical run of the mill wedding. She was in a satin gown, her hair up, a simple pendant on her necklace. She held his hand, smiling proudly. Her veil was perfect. He stood there in a tux, his smile rivaling that of the sun. 

You flipped through, and you didn’t know if you were going to smile from how happy and silly they looked on their special day. How happy you were for both of them. Or if you were going to scream and cry and break down because it should’ve been your day. He’s all you’d ever wanted…

Why weren’t you good enough? What went wrong? 

After several minutes, Clint came running into the garage. “Y/N? Where the hell-- Oh, there you are. Did you find the stuff? We gotta get this pipe fixed.”

He didn’t see what you had in your hands because you were turned away from the door he just came through. 

“You never told me why you never asked me back out…” 

He instantly stiffened. “Y/N,” he started, his tone full of warning. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it. 

You turned around, snapping the wedding book shut as you looked at him. “No I wanna know. When we left the circus, I was under the impression that one day you’d come back for me....” 

He took a few steps closer to you. “I tried, I wanted to, but with SHIELD--”

You were beyond angry. You were trying to hold this in because you knew he was grieving and you didn’t want to come into his life like a hurricane and make his pain worse. But you had feelings too that had never even been addressed or considered, so you wanted to know. 

“Don’t blame SHIELD, you married Laura so something was okay with having a life, a wife, a family.” 

“I didn’t want you to get hurt and I didn't think you wanted me back.”

“What gave you that idea?” you questioned, entirely flabbergasted. 

“When I visited you in Manhattan you said you didn’t want a guy in your way.” 

You frowned, trying to remember the interaction. When you finally did, you looked up at him. “That? You thought I meant you? I was talking about other guys, Clint!”

“I thought you meant it as a subtle way to tell me to take a hike.” 

Your eyes wildly searched his. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You couldn’t be with the only man you ever loved because he misunderstood a half-assed joke years ago? 

“No!” you cried out. “I waited for years for you to come back,” you stated, tears flowing despite your efforts to keep them inside. 

He looked down, feeling guilty and ashamed that he didn’t make it more clear back then that he did want you back. “Well, I’m sorry. I thought you were moving on.”

“No,” you informed, your voice full of anger and sorrow. You shook your head. “I was waiting.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. You said your life was too busy at the moment, I just assumed you meant for me, for everyone,” he said, not realizing how badly he’d been mistaken. He thought back to that day the clinic, realizing how your words would’ve sounded, but you thought he knew you well enough you meant other men. Anguish started to wrap around him slowly, creeping up into his throat. “I had no idea.”

“Well now yow you do.” You shoved the album into his chest and went back outside. 

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

For the next few days, you cried yourself to sleep. Thinking Clint didn’t want you was one thing. Thinking he just wanted to move on was one thing. 

But finding out he actually thought you were telling him to move on was just unbelievable to you. You’d spent all this time, all these years, waiting for him and he had no idea. You thought you were clear. You thought it was understood on both sides that you’d get your lives together and he’d come back for you.

You couldn’t go after him, you didn’t even know what part of the world he was in most of the time. You wanted to write letters, to make it clear. After he joined SHIELD and visited you in college, you thought he’d come back, again. He came back then, right? You just assumed he was still getting his life together.

Then one day… he had visited you… and told you about Laura.

The bell chimed to your clinic, the same one that always introduced new clients and their precious patients. But this bell chimed to signal that the only person you’d ever loved just walked through the doors. 

You happened to be out front at the desk, talking to your front desk staff, going through a chart when he walked in. You looked up and saw the disheveled blonde looking like a sight for sore eyes.  

“Clint, hey,” you beamed, grinning from ear to ear. You wondered if this was it, if this was when he was finally going to ask you to be with him again. You felt it had been long enough. It’d been over a decade. He was well into SHIELD by now, and you were well on your way to Manhattan’s finest veterinarian. Maybe he was finally coming to tell you he was ready, ready to be together, to start a family -- you certainly were. 

“Hey, Y/N, long time no see,” he greeted kindly.

“Yeah, I’ll say. It’s been forever. How’ve you been?” 

“Good,” he answered, shrugging as he put his hand in his pants. “Hey, you wanna grab coffee? Do you have time?”

You glanced down at your schedule and then your watch. “Yeah, I’ve got a little over an hour before my next appointment. Girls, can you make sure to take care of any walk-ins?” you requested. They said they would and you two were off. The closest cafe was only three doors down. After a quick trip out of your clinic front, you found the cafe, ordered, got your drinks, and sat down. 

“How have you been?” he asked and you suddenly realized what had been off about him since he walked in -- he seemed nervous. 

“I’m fine?” you responded, sounding as if it was a question. You let out a laugh to indicate how befuddled you were. In a way, it was. You were confused as to why he was giving you small talk. You two grew up together, you were closer with him than anyone on this planet. Why was he being so weird? 

“That’s good. Really good. I’m glad to hear it. Your business?”

“The clinic is doing just fine. I’m treating all kinds of animals. I’m really good. Are you? You seem a bit… off.” You wanted to reach towards him, possibly comfort him or just be closer to him. It seemed like you hadn’t hugged him in centuries. 

He looked down for a moment. He hadn’t touched his coffee, that was a red flag right there. If Clint Barton could IV the coffee, he would. Something must’ve been really troubling him. 

He took a deep breath and then looked up at you again. “I’ve met someone,” he informed evenly. 

Ice felt as if it replaced your heart. You stared at him in utter shock, horror, dismay, confusion, bewilderment. You struggled to keep your composure at all. How… How could you have been this blind? 

“Oh?” was all your lump-ridden throat would let out. 

“Yeah, uh, her name is Laura. She’s great. She really kind of kicks my ass when I need it.” He softly chuckled. “We got married…”

Did he want you to be happy for him? How the hell could you not see this? Were you waiting for a man for over a decade that didn’t want you? Or did he not realize you were waiting?

No, he clearly didn’t want you. If he loved you, if he truly loved and wanted you, he would’ve made his feelings clear for you between leaving the circus and now. All this time… wasted. Hoping without hope, waiting without word, wanting without cause just to find out he moved on, and didn’t even tell you until after it was too late to make your case?

These were clearly the actions of a man who was no longer in love with you, and possibly never was. 

“Does she make you happy?” you asked, somehow hoping that would numb the crushing pain inside you.

“She does,” he said with a head nod.

“Then that’s all that matters. Congratulations.” You leaned over and hugged him, fighting back tears harder than you’d ever fought anything. 

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

You were in the city, it was Wednesday afternoon. You wrapped up your last walk in, wished the girls a good evening, got to your car in the parking garage, and headed back to the farm. Why, you weren’t sure. At this point, it was pathetic. Clint loved someone else. You weren’t sure how many times he needed to make that absolutely clear. 

And yet, you continually ran to him, over and over and over. He showed up and you did anything for him. You never stopped loving him, not even when he told you he was going to give the life you deserved away to another woman.

You didn’t hate Laura, it wasn’t her fault. You were happy that Clint had a good, full life with her and the kids… You just didn’t know why it wasn’t your life with him. 

For years you had sacrificed your own happiness, believing that one day he would find his way back to you, but he never did. He even made it perfectly clear to you, through matrimony, that he didn't want you anymore. You still couldn't move on.

How do you move on from the one man who had saved your life? From the one man who saw you when you were scrounging for scraps at dinner? The one man who would take a beating just to find a pretty flower or trinket left in the stands to give it to you. The one man who made you laugh until your sides begged you to stop laughing. The one man who was both as deadly accurate with a bow and arrow as he was with his acrobatic skills. The one man who could brighten your day in the smallest of ways. He could see you when you were down and he knew how to make everything okay. Even being an orphan in a circus with bosses who threatened you and beat you, as long as Clint was there, you truly didn’t care.

When he left your life, the light slowly went out of you. He snuffed out that last small flame in you when he tied the knot with Laura. 

Now, his family was gone. You were back in his life, but you didn’t want to be a last resort, and yet that’s all you felt like you were to him. Someone to run to only when he’d run out of options. 

For some reason, that was something you never had an answer for. 

You returned to the farmhouse, walking in, throwing your keys on the entry table, trodding in with your medical bag. You were absolutely beat. Between working the long hours, the emotional pain, and the long drive, you just wanted to head to bed.

Something caught your eye though. Just as it did, Clint appeared out of the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted happily. 

“Yeah,” you said with a bit of confusion in your tone. You peered around him. “What’s going on?” you asked. You could see the kitchen was dimmed, candle light illuminating it with a small strand of fairy lights on the counter. 

He reached out and took your hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He pulled you forward, his face warmer than it had been since you’d arrived. 

As he tugged you into the room, you could clearly see it. There was a lace tablecloth on the table with two candles, and two romantic place settings. Fairy lights lit the kitchen and counter space. There was a small vase filled with wildflowers you’d seen on the farm. 

“What… what is all this?” you asked with some mild excitement. 

“I’m taking you on that date you always wanted,” he said with a bit of a shrug and a smile. 

You shook your head. “I can’t believe you did all this.” 

“Well, you deserve it. You deserve a lot for having to put up with me, the farm…”

“The farm isn’t so bad,” you said as you lowered yourself into a seat and he began to grab food and plate it for you. “Animals are a breeze to work with. You, not so much.” You smiled up at him with a teasing gleam in your eye.

“I know. You’ve made the hardest part of my life a lot… easier to deal with. If you hadn't answered your phone that day… I honestly don’t know where I’d be. Off a deep-end somewhere.” He sat down across from you and began to eat and sip his wine. 

“I’m sure Nat and the rest of the team help keep you sane, when you call,” you added, trying not to sound like you were the sole reason he was mentally okay.

“Somewhat, but having you here, having your help, your presence, knowing I can talk to you any time… It really helps.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. Having an escape from… out there is nice too. Of course, I’m always happy to be around you, too,” you confessed a bit uneasily. 

You weren’t sure what this was, where it was going. Was this two friends having a dinner date? Or was it truly the date you always wanted that he never came back to give you? You weren’t sure how to steer the conversation and hoped that he’d be a guiding light. 

“It reminds me of this time Nat and I had to bunker down in a cave for two weeks. God, I made so many bat jokes I think she was ready to kill me. To be fair, coming out in the sunlight was hard as hell on the eyes,” he said, shaking his head and continuing to eat. 

“I bet. Jeez, I couldn’t do that. Any part of your job seems impossible to me. When you all were fighting Loki, oh my gosh. No, it seemed absolutely crazy.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said. “I saw you train tigers and lions and elephants like it was nothing. You were never afraid of them.”

“Because I never intended to hurt them,” you replied easily. “They trusted me, I trusted them. It was simple. But the people, the things, the aliens you face… it’s… a lot. I would be trying to hurt them, and people change when it’s a fight for their life. I wouldn’t have the guts.” 

“I bet you would. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met and I’ve trained with the best.”

“You’re just saying that,” you quietly said, waving him off. 

“I’m not. Really. You know me. I’ll tell you if you can’t handle shit. I used to tell recruits all the time that they weren’t cut out for this job. I’d sit them down, explain everything they might ever face, and tell them I didn’t think they had it in them. Nine times out of ten they listened to me.” 

“Did you tell them getting put under mind control was a possibility?” you teased before sipping your wine. 

He laughed. “Not until it happened, then I started telling them to be prepared for literally anything. God. We went from taking weapons from the bad guys to trying to knock out aliens, killer android bots, to fighting for the universe. My job was supposed to be relatively simple. Somewhere those lines got blurred.” He shook his head, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“I bet. My job never got more exciting than an unusual diagnosis,” you stated.

“I think you liked it that way though,” he suddenly said, staring at you. He had this look of...adoration in his eyes and face that you hadn’t seen since… well since you left the circus. 

“You do?” you questioned, thrown a bit by his response. 

“Yeah, I mean our lives in the circus were nothing but… well hectic. A new city every few days, training with exotic and wild animals. We never knew where our next meal was coming from and we also had to fight to survive. Our childhood was far from a picnic. I think you chose a job that’s relatively stable and helps animals and people.”

You lowered your head, wondering if maybe that’s why he gave you up. “You must think I’m pretty boring then, hmm? You went and chased adventure, fun, chaos…” 

“I went after what I knew. The circus equipped me with skills to be an archer and the only way I knew that I could make something of myself was to go military. I figured my footwork, my acrobatics, and archery would help, and they did. I didn’t care for the action part of it.”

“So if you could’ve had a normal, steady, peaceful life with your talents, you would have?”

“Oh yeah, in a heartbeat. It’d mean I could’ve stayed closer to you.” 

He reached across the table and held your hand. You were overjoyed of course, but again that gnawing feeling of being second best began to creep up from your stomach. You quieted it, trying to tell yourself this was all you had wanted, and you should take what you could get. 

You smiled at him and held his hand. “I’m glad you found SHIELD, and Nat. I’m glad you found the team.” 

“Me too. Oh, man, I have to tell you about this time we were in Budapest,” he suddenly said, his face lighting up.

You nodded, motioning for him to continue and he did. He launched into a full story that had you rolling. It was both scary, thrilling, and funny. He had you on the edge of your seat, listening. Before long, you two were swapping crazy stories. Yours mainly involved animals swallowing weird things or really bizarre animal custody cases or someone once flying you all the way to London to look at their pet bird because they only trusted you. He told you about missions that were funny or odd or where they barely made it out. 

When you first arrived here tonight, you were weary, and you weren’t sure you were going to stay, but now, regardless of what tonight was, it was a reason to stay. Your exhaustion was long forgotten as Clint walked you upstairs. He was finally sleeping in his master bedroom again. It was a slow process and sometimes you still ran in there when he woke up screaming or crying in the middle of the night, but at least he wasn’t on that shitty couch of his. 

“Well, this is me,” you feebly joked as you stood at your door, throwing a thumb over your shoulder. 

Clint just nodded, smiling at you. “Thanks for having dinner with me and giving me a second chance.” 

“Thanks for offering me one to give,” you responded quietly. 

The two of you looked at each other. That look in his eye had returned, after all this time. He was looking at you just like he used to every night at the circus. That same look that told you he couldn’t live without you and he couldn’t lose you. It was there again and you had it all to yourself. 

And for the first time in forever, you wanted to feel him again. You had always loved him, always were in love with him, that much was true, but the longing and desire had been snuffed out quite some time ago. 

Now, it was ignited again. His unruly blonde locks were poking out everywhere, reminding you of a younger time, a time when it was you two against the world. His eyes were alive with so much longing, it sent you to the times when you lied next to each other under the stars. He was so close to you, you could feel his body heat. 

Your body ached to close the gap in that dark hallway, only illuminated by a full moon and one small lamp upstairs in your room. It was as if kissing in the darkness meant no one knew. It was as if it wouldn’t be like he was betraying Laura in her own home. It was as if it could give him permission or a guise to love you. 

And so he took it. 

He swept towards you quickly, capturing your lips with his and you nearly gasped from the shock. He tasted… new and yet familiar. The familiar warmth and nuttiness of coffee wafted off of him, as did the smell of farm work, not that different from the circus. But there was also this mintiness to him, this sweetness too, those were new. 

You embraced it though. Your hands went to his shoulders, holding them firmly so you could steady yourself. His hands were on either side of your face, where they always found themselves when you kissed. 

His lips were firm, tender, moving with purpose. When he let you go, his eyes were closed and you simply stared at him. He rubbed his lips together before saying, “Goodnight.” 

He let go of your face before grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze, and he went to his room.

“Sweet dreams,” he quietly called before shutting his door. 

For the first time in over ten years, you thought you could actually have sweet dreams, and you retreated into your room, looking forward to the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[the-elusive-libbin]

Hypnosis Mic- Hunger canons

Hunger Noises and reactions - Some of the Hypmic bois - Self indulgence at its finest

So I wanted to do some hunger stuff since I rarely do hunger based things and its actually my favourite kink. This is rather self indulgent so please do bear with it. Here are some mini canons regarding some of my favourite Hypnosis mic bois...this is one of my current hype anime series after all. Not included all of the guys, i.e Badass temple and Dotsuitare hompo, simply because I don’t know them all yet. Anyway, click ‘keep reading’ if you wanna keep reading ;)

Ichirou Yamada- Boisterous and rowdy- preferred wording: Belly: Ichirou tends to cater to his belly when it growls in public by raising an eyebrow at it, scoffing in mild irritation and eating a lot. Secretly he flusters more when his brothers hear his empty tummy and make jokes but the oldest buster bro puts on a face for the two youngsters, always has. He’s been without food for the sake of his younger brothers before and during those times, he would often fill his starving belly full of water in a feeble attempt to quieten the organ and hope that the others didn't ear the odd escaping moan; after all he's the one that's supposed to be caring for the two youngsters and he’d hate to make them worry. Nowadays he’s more nonchalant around others when they hear his groans, waving it off or joking about grabbing a bite to eat.

Jirou Yamada- Persistant and whiny yet deep, as though imitating Ichirou's belly- Preferred wording: Belly: Jirou doesn't hide his hunger anymore, sure he used to go hungry a lot and it's not like he's not embarrassed by the noises that emanate from his belly, but he's too used to complaining and whining for food when he's starved nowadays. If he wasn't too dense to realize the strong front that Ichirou always used to put up for he and Saburo, Jirou would attempt to mimic the oldest brother and do the same thing, putting on a strong front for the youngest bro. Unfortunately Jirou is dense and doesn’t realize ... his stomach has a habit of groaning directly after Ichirou's has. His mouth waters a lot at the sight of food when he’s ravenous and he will eat rapidly in order to fill his stomach quicker, something Ichirou has scolded him for on multiple occasions.

Ramuda Amemura - Long and high pitched with a deep undertone - Preferred wording: Tummy: Ramuda just let's his tummy rumble in public, it really doesn't bother him, especially since the girls tend to find it cute and sometimes they even give him candy. It's a win win in the little shit's eyes. He'll openly whine, about how hungry he is while patting his tummy with both hands and is even known to ask others if they can hear it moan, all for attention of course. Ramuda doesn’t like being hungry for too long though and isn’t usually due to the amount of sweets he passively consumes. Must have a good metabolism.

Gentaro Yumeno - Soft and gentle but very aggressive when neglected - Preferred wording: Stomach or Belly: Gentarou generally has a soft spoken stomach if you will. He eats meals on a regular time scale and doesn’t often skip. That does not mean however that he never skips meals as sometimes he can become so carried away with his writing that he forgets to eat. In situations like this, the writer will find his stomach a nuisance as it begins to suddenly, without warning, rumble at a fairly audible volume....embarrassing if you’re in a restaurant people watching and writing because there is no doubt that they would have heard the hungry groans. In response Gentaro inwardly flushes and decides it may be high time to grab some food before he is once again, rudely interrupted. Most of the time the man’s stomach is calm and collected but in it’s defense, there are only so many hours you can go without food before you have to speak up.

Dice Arisugawa - Constantly groaning, medium length, fairly deep, echoey rumbles- Preferred wording: Belly: Dice is always gambling his money away and so doesn’t tend to have money for food. Dude would sooner gamble his life away than eat. Of course canonically this means he’s always hungry and always trying to mooch food and money. Therefore I don’t think he’d be privy to hiding the ominous groans that constantly escape his belly, he’d use the moaning of his gut to emphasize his point as he complains about how he needs food and that he’s wasting away. Puppy dog eyes, groaning tummy and theatrical belly rubs or even lifting up his shirt to show you the damage are all things he’s used to. The only time he hides his growling tummy is when he’s fruitlessly trying to explain that he hasn’t been gambling....which of course everyone knows is a lie. He’s not flustered by his groans and canonically will love anyone who treats him to a meal.

Samatoki Aohitsugi- Deep and violent groans - Preferred wording: Gut: Samatoki has no time for his stomach’s noises and will try to cover the noises up should he accidentally skip or have no time for a solid meal. He especially likes to keep an arm wrapped around it when the crazy navy officer of the Mad Trigger Crew is nearby in the fear that he’ll soon be stuffed to the gills with something foul. Samatoki’s little sister cooks decent meal portions for him and often prepares bentos for while he’s ‘working’ so it’s unusual to hear the white haired man’s belly in the first place. He actually dislikes being hungry and is prone to getting hangry. He wouldn’t want to admit it but he’s rather flustered by his belly noises as he feels they ruin his tough guy image and make people feel sorry for him. Watch his face turn red should you comment on a loud grumble or groan.

Jyuto Iruma- Fairly average, medium sounding gurgles- Preferred wording: Stomach: Jyuto is flustered easily enough by his stomach but he tries not to let it show; coughing into a gloved fist or pushing his glasses back onto his face are often enough to keep his embarrassment at bay. Tease him however and you’ll get the opposite effect, polite ‘excuse me’s’ reddening cheeks and robotic movements. The guy wants to remain cool and collected, not look and sound as though he’s missed multiple meals, do him a favour and don’t tease. Jyuto tries to keep his stomach nice and satisfied while keeping to his meal schedules as best he can. He shares his fear of being stuffed by Rio with Samatoki and shudders at the thought of his teammate’s cooking. Canonically, Jyuto’s grumbling tummy has caused trouble for both himself and Samatoki before.

Rio Mason Busujima - Deep, guttural, animal-like groans- Preferred wording: Gut/Stomach/Belly: Rio canonically lives in a tent in the woods catching and eating whatever he can to eat, which often leads to the ex-marine slurping down a plethora of weird and wonderful things. There are times when of course, he is unable to catch a decent meal and so may have to go to bed on a partially or completely empty stomach. There is nothing stopping him from buying food, he just doesn’t do it often, when he does, he stocks up on canned rations. On occasion he has found himself running without provisions and in those cases his stomach likes to very much voice its displeasure. Rio isn’t really bothered by his stomach or its growls, they’re natural and he’s used to it. I think the only way to fluster him with hunger would be if his stomach groaned in a crowded room and everyone heard it or maybe if you were to place an ear to it. His stomach is often loud like an animal roar, even at the start phase of his hunger and can be calmed only by gentle tummy rubs and food. You’d have no chance of getting any sleep whilst lay beside this man when he’s hungry.

Jakurai Jinguji - Soft and regular yet deep- Preferred wording: Stomach: The good doctor detests the idea of neglecting his stomach. It shouldn’t happen with his patients so why should he let it happen to himself? Unfortunately it does, rather often actually as the poor guy is always so busy taking care of others that he forgets about himself. Jakurai will always eat when he gets the chance to and he is fully aware that he needs to eat regularly to maintain a healthy diet, he’s a doctor after all. When hungry, the doctor’s tummy is fairly soft and deep sounding, rumbling in low tones that are not unlike that of his voice. It can become quite loud when he’s been hungry for long or if the poor doc falls asleep with an empty stomach as it will rumble deeply in a feeble attempt to wake its sleeping master. Most of the time Jakurai feels the vibrations before hearing them, especially if the room he’s in is bustling so he’s not too worried. Stomach noises are natural and his is just doing its thing. That does not mean that he won’t be embarrassed should a loud groan catch him off guard. Either way, stand next to this doctor on a busy day where he’s skipped lunch and keep an ear out. Perhaps you can hear those groans becoming gradually louder and louder as time goes by~

Hifumi Izanami - Almost sing-song-like, high-pitched gurgles- Preferred wording: It varies depending on the girl he’s talking to, otherwise he uses stomach: Hifumi’s stomach isn’t normally overactive, loud or really very vocal. It’s only on the odd occasion where he’s super hungry where it will whine like a neglected child. He’s usually sated and not hungry but Hifumi has a fairly good metabolism and can become hungry whilst working or chilling at home after a few hours of not eating. Should his belly groan while he’s working at the host club, suit on of course, he’ll just flirt it away “Do you hear that? That was the sound of me hungering for your love, how about some champagne?” In some awkward chat up line that somehow always works...much to Doppo’s irritation. He will change the wording and the way he acts about being hungry to match the girl he is currently with however, complain softly to those who like cute guys and acting refined about it to those who like mature men for example. Should Hifumi’s stomach grumble at home however he’ll whine to Doppo while cooking them both a dinner. He’s more likely to complain than he is to fluster at the sounds. Unlike Jakurai, Hifumi can drink on an empty stomach without getting tipsy as he’s built up an tolerance.

Doppo Kannonzaka - Average, each growl varies and is situational- Preferred word: Stomach or belly: Doppo eats normal foods at scheduled hours of the day. His lunch breaks are at the same time each day, his breakfast he eats at the same time each day and he presumably eats dinner with Hifumi at around the same time each day. Doppo’s stomach makes all sorts of noises, hungry or not and he finds it futile to attempt to stop them because he knows that they won’t listen anyway. His stomach has a mind of its own. Some days Doppo can be absolutely ravenous and not feel the bite of hunger with his stomach not making a peep, other days his stomach will groan loudly and uncontrollably, varying in pitch and tone. Should anyone hear this or dare I say comment on the sounds, he will blush and maybe even slam his head to the desk, cursing the world under his breath. He’s already way too tired to deal with the embarrassment of his random hungry stomach’s outbursts at work. He’ll have a bigger breakfast tomorrow he promises himself.  Regarding Doppo and Hifumi - I would assume that they come home from work at separate intervals, one working a salary man 9-5 job with overtime and the other being a host (Presumably working the Shinjuku nightlife.) I imagine that they get at least one meal a day together aside from Hifumi’s days off. My prediction as someone who worked the nightlife in England for 6 years is that the two rarely get time together but do see each other, Hifumi would possibly have to work weekends but may get time off in the week of or work less shifts, then again he is supposedly Shinjuku’s number 1 host so that may not be entirely accurate. Anyway it’s all speculation and I would totally love to hear more about their living habits. Let me know what you think, I’m slowly going to work through asks on my day off but I’m more than happy to chat hypmic ;)

[pricklerick]

magnum opus

Quick disclaimer: I don’t usually post warnings on my blog, but I’m going to now - this is a ficlet/summary of a huge Rick and Morty story that I’m completely unqualified to write. DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Guys, this is dark. Trigger warnings for incest, underage sex, pregnancy loss, postpartum depression, attempted suicide.

I’ll preface by saying that this is a story that’s been bouncing around in my brain for a while now. But I don’t feel that I have the maturity or life experience to tackle the subject matter and do it any justice at all. These are heavy topics that have affected many people, and the last thing I’d ever want to do is exploit them, minimize them, or misrepresent them.

So, if you choose to continue, know that you are responsible for the media that you consume, and know that the things I write (or the perspective of the characters that I write) do not necessarily reflect my personal opinions.  

Okay, that being said, have an angsty fic summary!

Morticia (known as Tish) and her Rick have been fucking for years. Tish knows that to Rick, she’s an easy lay - an accessible warm body at best. But to Tish, Rick is everything.

She’s seventeen, and Rick gets really antsy about an adventure to a universe where space herpes is airborne. He insists that Tish get a series of ridiculously painful alien vaccinations that leave her shaky and nauseated for a week. Tish puts up with it, because Rick gets what Rick wants, and Rick wants a very specific isotope of Nihonium that can only be found on Space Herpes’ Andromeda galaxy. Once Tish is feeling better, Rick drags her off to spend a single afternoon harvesting rocks. The whole thing goes off without a cinch for once, and Tish totally forgets about it.

But it’s not long before Tish starts feeling off again. She’s exhausted, can’t eat or sleep, and one night when Rick grabs her tits and squeezes just like she needs him to, Tish screams at the sensitivity.

Rick stops cold and just looks at her, that same look that he gives to a gadget that’s not behaving how he wants, and in that moment, something grows cold in Tish’s stomach.

She knows.

She takes test after shitty drugstore test, spends close to $100 at the gas station down the street. On her third trip, the cashier looks at her in undisguised pity, and Tish has to stop herself from punching him in the face.

“Rick, I think I’m pregnant.”

She doesn’t think, she fucking knows. Rick’s face stays carefully blank. He keeps tinkering with the android in front of him, the only sign that he even heard a quick blink and the subtle movement of the muscles of his throat as he swallows hard.

“Rick?” she prompts.

“Jeezus, Tish, I’m old, not deaf. Fucking heard you the first time.”

She huffs, lets her left hip rest against the countertop where he’s working, folds her arms across her chest to hide her shaking hands.

Rick sighs, swiping the goggles up so that they catch in his hair. “Not a problem,” he says evenly, carefully looking in any direction but to her.

Tish blinks. She’d expected… more. An explosion, a few curse words, hell, even some pointed fingers.

Rick is reaching for a drawer, pulls out a syringe that’s filled with a vicious purple fluid. “I mean, really Tish, there’s a whole— a whole multiverse of options out there. And you - you still insist on using fu-fucking horse piss!”

He’s coming at her with the needle. Tish’s body reacts before her brain even comprehends the situation, and she backhands Rick hard enough to send him stumbling. The syringe shatters on the floor, and Tish gasps, her hand stinging from the impact.

Rick is looking at her, both hands supporting his weight on the countertop. His chest is heaving. He spits blood, glaring at her, and Tish’s heart sinks to her toes.

"Fine,” he hisses. “You wanna play Mommy? Wanna tell your mother that you’re pregnant at seventeen? Knock yourself out, baby. I’ll fucking let you. At least nobody will think twice about your retard baby - you’re dumb as rocks, Tish, stupider than dirt.  And when this crashes and burns, like I know it will, when you’re in over your head and you hate yourself and that little mutation of genetic material that’s percolating in your gut like a goddamn tape worm, you remember this.” Rick looms over her, leaning so close that Tish can smell bile on his breath. “You remember that Grandpa Rick fucking told you so.”

And in a swirl of vivid green, he is gone.

Weeks go by and Tish is as sick as a dog. Beth is too busy grieving the loss of her dad to notice Tish’s hollow eyes and vacant expression; in fact, Beth seems to blame Tish for Rick’s disappearance.

And she’s right to, Tish thinks.

Tish doesn’t say anything. She loses a lot of weight - her cheeks are hollow and her jeans hang from her hips. All the while, she replays Rick’s words over and over again…

You’re dumb as rocks, Tish.

Tish knows she’s sick in the head. It’s sick to fall in love with your abusive grandfather, and even more sick to sacrifice everything for your abusive grandfather’s incest-baby. Tish can’t explain it. She’s always been good for nothing - not much to look at, useless at school, no real talent to speak of.

And then, one night when she was thirteen, Rick drunkenly grabbed her hand and dragged her through a portal, and Tish found her purpose.

She was good at playing side-kick. Dumb enough to shield Rick from his enemies, just smart enough to do (mostly) what she was told, and unquestionably devoted. Like an animal, she overheard Rick say once. Throw her a treat every now and then and she’ll come running.But Tish had thrived with Rick, despite everything. She followed him, pandered to him, drunk-sat him, memorized all of his quirks and habits. And when she was fifteen and neither of them could deny the draw of their bodies any longer, Tish had given herself to him, had quaked and keened beneath him as he mapped her with his hands and lips and tongue…

Tish was Rick’s, as sure as she was anything, and Rick, Rick was everything. And now, she had a part of him. A little piece of Rick, growing inside her.

Rick and Tish, forever and ever.

Tish is stupid, but she knows this much - if she does nothing else in her life, nothing at all, she’s going to do this. She’s going to leave her mark on the world, her mark and Rick’s.

She’s going to have this baby.

Still, that’s a hard thing for a seventeen year old to articulate, and Beth is less than supportive. Tish says nothing. She just dwindles away until one morning, 84 days after Rick left, she passes out in the middle of remedial algebra and wakes up in an ambulance. The paramedic refuses to hear Tish’s pleas of “low blood sugar; I skipped breakfast,” and Tish finds herself ushered into the ER, complete with ass-baring gown and oversized hospital socks.

“Congratulations,” the idiot in the white coat says, hardly glancing up from his clipboard. “You’re going to be a mom!”

Tish tunes him out as he prattles along about ultrasounds and hyperemesis gravidarum and dangerously low potassium levels. He tells her that she’ll be monitored overnight, and that her parents have been notified.

She must have fallen asleep, because when she wakes, holy fuck, Rick is there, staring at her with glittering eyes. Above her, Tish hears the blip-blip-blip of the heart monitor as it speeds.

Rick’s eyes never leave her face, but his hand snakes under her blanket, searching. He skims past her cunt, pausing as if to linger there, but then settles northward, fingers slaying wide over Tish’s pelvis as he palms the barely-there knot that rises beneath the dip of her hipbones. Tish’s whole body trembles. There’s something feral in Rick’s eyes, something deliciously possessive about the heat of his hand against Tish’s clammy skin.

“You’re an idiot,” Rick tells her solemnly.

I know, she starts to say, but it comes out as a moan.

The secret is out. Beth is casually disappointed in Tish for “repeating the same mistakes,” but admits that she hadn’t expected much better from her younger daughter. Rick explains away his absence with a bombastic story, complete with waving hands and drunken sound effects, and things go back to normal.

Rick refuses to talk about the baby. Tish only brings it up once, to let Rick know that she’s decided on adoption. He grunts and shrugs, and that’s that.

But Tish notices Rick watching her out of the corner of his eye. When they’re on adventures, Rick seems to move a little slower, to make more space for Tish, and once, Tish swears Rick shifted his body between her and and a hostile Gromflomite, almost as if he were protecting her.

And the sex.

The sex.

Rick worships her body in a way he never has before. At first, Tish assumes it’s because her tits are a little fleshier, but that’s not it. Rick can hardly keep his eyes and hands off of her, is always eyefucking her in the kitchen at breakfast, or cupping her ass as he slides past her in the hallway. He catalogues the changes in her body with his tongue, undressing her slowly, even massaging her lower back after a grueling day. When she doubles over at the dinner table with round ligament pain, Rick is in her room that evening, massaging her belly with a special alien oil. When her jeans won’t button, he takes her to an intergalatic shopping mall. He bitches the whole time, but he parades Tish around with his hand on the small of her back, and nobody bats an eye.

Tish loves it and loathes it. She basks in the glow of the moment, then cries into her pillow at night. It’s stupid to romanticize these little moments with Rick. He’s capable of altruism when it suits him, but it’s not like he loves her or anything.

Tish knows that she can’t keep this baby - she can’t raise a child alone, and, selfish as she is, she won’t give up her life with Rick.

She can’t.

But this baby, Rick’s baby… it deserves more than a shitty life on a deadbeat, backwater planet.

And Tish can give it that.

So with Rick’s reluctant help, Tish selects an off-planet adoption agency that is willing to place humans. She interviews potential families in her spare time. “I have an appointment,” she’ll announce, and Rick will sigh, blast a portal into the wall, and accompany her to the office. He hangs around, hovering at her shoulder until the receptionist calls her in, and then he disappears without a word. When the meeting ends, Tish finds a portal waiting for her in the corner of the reception area, and Rick tinkering in the garage.

They don’t talk about it.

There are more things that I’d like to work in here, but honestly, guys, I’m just not gonna. This is a fic that deserves some real life experience and at least 100k words, and I can offer neither. I want to hit on Tish’s lack of self worth - at this point, she’s living for this baby, because she views it as an extension of Rick. To Tish, this kid is the only thing of worth that she has to offer the world, and it’s the fact that it’s Rick’s, not hers, that she thinks is important.

On Rick - he loves Tish, in his own twisted way. He’s not at all interested in the baby, but because Tish is, he’ll play along. The idea of anything happening to Tish is absolutely unacceptable to him, and he was totally monitoring her (and the baby) while he was away. He couldn’t help himself. That’s why he came back when Tish was hospitalized. He wanted to make sure that Tish wasn’t going to kill herself trying to have this kid. And he missed her.

I don’t want to shy away from the darker aspects of the story. Namely, the incest and abusive/unhealthy relationship that Rick and Tish have. I imagine Tish worrying about the potential for genetic abnormalities, and wondering about the ethics of addressing this with potential parents. Maybe she brings it up to Rick one day, and he immediately whips up a little gadget and scans their baby (I really like the idea of Rick performing an amniocentesis, but I don’t know if that’s a little too much). But either way, I imagine Rick saying, “She’s fine,” and Tish just bursting into tears, because their baby is going to be just perfect, and also, it’s a girl.

And Rick just kind of fingering Tish’s hair and tolerating her crying it out.

Pregnancy kink. Rick is a kinky bastard, and I think a huge part of him is going to be hella turned on by the changes in Tish’s body. She’s literally growing a part of him. His baby’s baby is having his baby. It’s fucked up and it’s science, and Rick is gonna be so here for it. I’m not a smut writer, but I would love somebody who is to just take this and run with it.

It’s going to start with sex, but eventually, the further along Tish gets, the more possessive Rick is going to be of Tish. Yeah, it’s kind of hot that his granddaughter is carrying his child under their family’s nose, but there’s probably a deeper part of Rick that is just screaming for acknowledgement and absolution. THIS IS MINE. SHE IS MINE. I want to see jealous, anxious, overbearing Rick. And as this thing forces them to confront some ugly truths, I want to see that possessive, kinky, fucked up side of Rick soften into something that’s more protective and positive. I want to see him openly praise Tish’s body, and then eventually, praise Tish. I want him to slow down when she needs him to slow down and create space for her when she needs space. I want attentive, careful, gentle Rick.

But guys, Tish is going to lose this baby.

She’s like eight months along and begging Rick for a real adventure. She feels good, and she’s tired of sitting on her ass. And some stupid little thing goes wrong. Maybe she misreads a situation, or mishandles a weapon, or uses the wrong code word. And she falls, or maybe she takes a bullet and then she falls.

But she loses the baby.

Tish is not okay. This is postpartum depression meets miscarriage guilt. She blames herself for losing Rick’s baby. For eight months, this is all she’s lived for. She knew that this was her one shot, her one opportunity to leave a mark on the world.

And it was Rick’s baby. The thought of destroying anything of Rick’s is just unbearable to Tish, and it’s her fucking fault. She is useless on an adventure, and more than that, her stupid body is useless, sacrificing her baby to keep her alive.

Rick is fine once he realizes that Tish is out of danger, so Tish tries to be fine, too. She takes a week or two of bed rest, but she can tell that Rick is uncomfortable acknowledging her loss, so Tish tries to let it go. She goes on adventures, forces a smile, makes herself get out of bed and come to meals.

Meanwhile, Rick is kind of coming to his own conclusions. I imagine him holding the body of his daughter and thinking how perfect she is, how tiny, and how she looks exactly like Tish. And that thought, the thought of this tiny little Tish that could have been running around on some planet… well, that stings a lot more than Rick thought it would.

I mean, he’s okay. He doesn’t need another daughter, and he sure as hell doesn’t need a great granddaughter. He looks over at Tish, resting pale-faced in an alien hospital bed, and he hears the blip-blip of the heart monitor, and he knows that he’s complete.

But still, he can’t help but wonder, and something in his chest throbs as he does.

But Tish bounces back as well as he could have expected. Sure, Rick sees the shadow in her eyes, but when she grips his hand and says, “Where are we going today, Rick?” he answers her, because that’s so much easier.

Tish is fucking drowning. I’m not sure what the tipping point will be, maybe just a tiny misunderstanding with Rick, or a bad grade, or a joke about teen pregnancy at school. But she’s done. She’s fucking done.

She tries to slit her throat in the bathtub.

Once again, she awakens in an alien hospital, and once again, Rick is staring at her with glittering eyes.

And he’s pissed.

“That’s the second time I’ve found you in a pool of your own blood,” he says. He’s gripping her hands too tight, baring his teeth and hissing. In the dim hospital light, he looks absolutely feral, and Tish is terrified.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers hoarsely.

Rick’s face crumples, and something inside of her shatters at his disappointment. “I’m sorry!” Tish wails over and over, tears running hot down her cheeks.

She’s sorry for everything.

Rick crawls into bed with her, monitors be damned. Tish is crying so hard that she can barely breathe, and suddenly, Rick is there, curling around her, tucking his face into her neck and burying his fingers into her hair.

“Shh, shh,” he shushes her. He holds her tight, murmuring senselessly in her ear as she babbles to him. It all comes out, all of Tish’s fears and failures, like the bursting of a dam. Tish couldn’t stop it if she tried. Rick never says a word, but his grip around her tightens, his fingers working little patterns into her skin as she speaks.

“Fuck,” he breaths as Tish runs out of steam.

“I’m sorry!”

Rick sits up. “Don’t!” he hisses, then looks away, as if ashamed. Tish tenses, but before she can respond, Rick reaches for her hand and squeezes tight.

“If I have to hear you say you’re sorry one more goddamn time…”

Tish bites back an apology.

Rick swallows hard, clears his throat. His fingers twitch in the way that Tish knows means he misses his flask. She notices for the first time that Rick isn’t wearing his lab coat. He’s still sitting up in the bed, gazing at the floor as if he can’t bear to meet her gaze.

“Do you know… Tish, do you have any idea - fuck. Don’t - don’t ever, Tish. Please, don’t ever make me do this again. I - I can’t…”

He breaks off, shoving a fist into his teeth and grimacing, and the image is so incongruous with the Rick Sanchez that she knows that Tish can’t help but reach for him. He pivots at her touch, and there are actual tears in his eyes.

“Tish, it’s you, baby. Just you. You’re… you’re the only - the only good thing. All the rest of it, the adventure, the science… It fucking doesn’t matter, okay? Nothing matters.”

Tish’s breath catches.

“No, you’re still not…” Rick makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done, the only thing I’ve ever... ever… Fuck!” He throws his hands in the air. “You’re... you’re my magnum opus, okay? You complete me.”

“Oh,” says Tish stupidly.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Rick mocks. He’s flushed, biting his lip and running his fingers through his wild hair. “I can’t believe… just, just, Tish,” he looks at her now, dead serious, “Don’t make me say it again, okay?”

Don’t make me lose you again. Please.

“Okay, Rick,” she agrees, crawling into his lap and tucking her head under his chin.

And like, things aren’t magically okay. It’s never a healthy relationship. Tish never gets over losing her baby, and Rick never mentions it again. But there’s something about Rick calling Tish his “opus magnum” that really satisfies me in a way that no fic I’ve read has yet. And I like to think that they are a tiny bit more open now, or at least, they know each other better. Tish might never have any self-worth, but she knows that Rick values her, and that’s the best feeling. And Rick is a little softer with Tish, and he never quite loses that protective streak that he picked up while she was pregnant.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part four) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part four: Y/N begins to feel more at home, getting the hang of the daily routine at the ranch. But her world is finally complete when her horse arrives.  Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Sunshine’ by Ryan Bingham, ‘The Stable Song’ by Gregory Alan Isakov. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “You haven't mucked many stables in your life, have ya?”

     Panting, Y/N stops with what she’s doing, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. After turning out all the animals, Dean and Jo started training the horses, while she was assigned to assist Garth to muck out the twenty stables. The air might have cooled between the head wrangler and herself, he did not lie when he said that he was not going to treat her differently than any other intern. As she anticipated, she landed a dirty job, quite literally.          Out of breath, she turns to face Garth in the doorway, who is leaning on a pitchfork. He has his eyebrows raised, but his smile is gentle. With her pitchfork still stuck in the mixture of sawdust and manure, she chuckles nervously. Is it that obvious that she has absolutely no idea what she is doing? The stable boy has got her figured out, but she is not entirely ready to admit it yet. In another attempt to lift the heavy clunk off the concrete, she’s able to pull it up a few inches, but then she has to admit her defeat; it’s just too heavy.      “Guilty,” she sighs.

     “Here, let me help,” Garth offers. “What you basically do with each stable, is quickly scoop the clean shavings in one corner and only take out what’s dirty. Don't bite off more than you can chew, alright? If you try to clean out the stable in one haul, you’ll ruin your back. Make sure the wheelbarrow is already pointing into the direction of the shitpit, so that you don't have to turn it when it's full.”      “The shitpit? Really?” Y/N grins, assuming he meant the muck heap.      “It has a nice ring to it,” the guy returns, sniggering over his own choice of words.       He demonstrates quickly, moving the clean shavings aside and picking up the darkened wooden fibers with his pitchfork, hurling it into the wheelbarrow swiftly.      “Don't be too neat about it, the ponies are gonna drop their chocolate muffins the moment they step back in. Make sure most of it is out,” Garth scoops up the last droppings, then twists the handle and pulls the clean shavings back to the center of the stall, “then even out what's left and if necessary add a little more shavings.”

     The tactic helps, and Y/N cleans out the next stable a lot faster than she did the previous one. Yet she can't keep up with Garth, who finishes his row when she has barely reached the fifth box. Already she feels exhausted. Aching shoulders, a sore back, and already blisters start to develop on her hands during the very first hour of hard labor. On top of all that, she is so hungry that she can hear her stomach growl above the sound of Ryan Bingham’s ‘Sunshine’ blasting from the radio. Breakfast sure sounds good by now.       Twenty minutes past eight she finishes her final stable while the slender stable boy is sweeping the hallway. He is done by the time she returns with an empty wheelbarrow, which she turns over against the wall next to the other. Jo and Dean return from the arena, cooling the horses down by walking circles around the Joshua tree. For a second, Y/N watches the head wrangler on the beautiful buckskin with black manes and a shiny, golden coat. Her breath is stolen from her for a short second.

     Holy mother of God; he looks good on a horse.

     Even though the American Quarter is only walking, she can tell he’s a good rider. The way he comfortably adjusts his balance with the movements of the animal under him, the end of the reins loosely between his fingers and his free hand rests on his upper leg as he talks to Jo; riding comes naturally. It is like breathing to him, he doesn't even have to think about it. Jo seems at home in her beautifully hand-crafted saddle as well.       “I don't know about y’all, but I could eat.”      Benny leans against the large doorway, lifts his hat and wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm, then puts it back on. He picks a pack of Lucky Strike from his back pocket, as well as his zippo, and lights a smoke. He generously smiles at Y/N after taking a drag, and for a second she senses that Dean isn’t the only one who is interested in the fresh face. Well, fresh? Not so much after mucking out stalls in eighty-seven degrees, but then again, neither is the farrier. His shirt is drenched, dark stains on the center of his chest. A little insecure about his intentions, she smiles back sheepishly, after which Benny thankfully shifts his attention to the riders.      “Still comfortable up there, Chief? Get your lazy ass off that horse, us workin’ men gotta still our hunger,” he nags.      Dean chuckles, amused by the harmless bantering of his best friend. “Somebody has to do the ridin’ and keep the horse beneath,” he counters, as he swings his right leg over the back of the horse and lowers himself to the ground.      "One time, brother,” the Southerling sighs, shaking his head. “One time you saw me fall off that bronc and you still hold that against me? That was six years ago!”

     Y/N looks from Benny to Dean, who has tied his buckskin to the pole under the Joshua tree and now loosens the cinch of the saddle. The intern takes her cue and walks over to help, partly trying to make up for the attitude she gave him the night before, but also to impress him with her eagerness. The head wrangler grins at her over the back of his horse as his friend continues to argue over what’s true and what's exaggerated about the event that his friend just brought up. Y/N can’t hide her smile either; she would like to see where this is heading.           “Oh, you didn't just fall off that bronc. That was the biggest face plant in the history of the State of Arizona,” Dean corrects, slightly overdoing it to the amusement of the others.      “C’mon now, it wasn't like that,” Benny responds.      Dean opens the faucet and starts to hose down the Quarter, washing the dirt and sweat out of its golden coat. In the meantime Y/N takes off the bridle and replaces it with a leather halter, trying not to snigger.      “Benny, be fair. There's still a dent in the arena footing where you touched down with that brick head of yours,” Jo chips in.      Y/N snorts and Dean breaks out in full-body laughter, only fueled by the stunned expression of the farrier, the cigarette still hanging from his parted lips. He doesn't have a counter ready.      “I ain’t talkin’ to you folks no more,” he mutters eventually, after which he saunters away, mumbling something unintelligible.

     Dean smirks, and eyes the intern again over the arch of the buckskin’s back, running his hand through the horse's wet mane, after which he gives the stallion a pat on the shoulder. He's trying to suppress the trace of victory before the others notice. What was this whole little challenge with his friend about? Truly just his colleague’s legendary fall? Dean saw how his pal smiled at Y/N and felt his gut twist and turn at the sight. He knows Benny, he knows that grin. And although she obviously belongs to nobody and the two men usually don't mind when one gives it a go with the girl who the other is chasing, Dean felt the need to claim her. When the farrier mocked him on making slow time, he instantly took that opportunity to put him back in his place. He wonders if Benny picked up on his reasoning, and what if she did? The cowboy tries to read her as he lifts the heavy saddle off the pole.      “Wanna bring him back to his stable?” he asks with a gentle voice. “Led is in the second on the left.”      “Sure.” She smiles, glad to get the responsibility of one of his horses. But then she realizes something. Led? Who calls his horse Led? Unless…      “Led, as in ‘Led Zeppelin’?” she wonders, as she unties the beautiful stallion.      Surprised Dean frowns at her and looks over his shoulder. “You know this horse?”      She scoffs. “No, but I know the band.” 

     Feeling the cowboy's eyes on her, she can tell that he’s impressed, and instantly the heat rushes to her cheeks.      Why are you feeling so flushed every time he directs his gaze to you? She wonders. You're that confident girl who gave him a run for his money last night. Where did she go?           But something about his ways leaves her a doubtful mess inside.      “You know Led Zeppelin?” Dean appeared again, resting his strong forearms on the stable door. Apparently he stored away the saddle in the tack room and made it back in record time. She piqued his interest earlier, but now he just can’t help himself.       “I’m familiar with their music, yeah,” she admits, undoing Led from his halter, after which she intends to exit the box.      “Prove it,” he challenges, holding the door for her. “First song of the second album.”      “Whole Lotta Love,” she recalls without blinking, confidence returning now that he started on a subject she’s an expert on.      “Name of the fifth album.”      She grins as the two of them start making their way, joined by Jo and Garth, who helped her tack down the grey she was riding.      “Houses of the Holy,” she answers.      He laughs. “Well, I’ll be damned. Where have you been hiding all my life?”

     She can’t stop herself from chuckling as she looks down, catching Jo’s eye roll as she does. It's clear the blonde cowgirl is not impressed with her cousin’s smooth talk and it brings Y/N back to earth. Yes, she gives Dean the benefit of the doubt, but Jo warned her for a reason.      This is his usual M.O, he tells this to all the girls, the convincing voice in her mind tells her. There is nothing special about you.      “What’s your favorite Led Zep song?” Dean wonders.      “Right now at this very moment?” She steals a playful glance at him from under her Milano hat. “It would be a tie between What Is And What Should Never Be and Ramble On.”

     Dean opens his mouth to respond as he pushes open the heavy door to the small cafeteria, but then the titles dawn on him. The double meaning behind her peculiar choice of songs doesn't go unnoticed with his colleagues either, because Jo throws him a wide grin, and Garth sniggers. He shakes his head, but can’t hide the ear to ear smile. Before the wrangler can fire back, he enters the lounge area, the smell of bacon, fresh bread, and pancakes filling his nostrils like it does every morning. Aunt Ellen, his dear aunt Ellen. Everyone who works at this ranch should be thanking the man upstairs for this woman who makes the best scrambled eggs in the country.

     “Well, come on in, y’all!” She greets the workers, stirring the delicious smelling food in the frying pan, after which she starts scooping the eggs on the plates. “The food ain't sittin’ here to get cold.”      With a watering mouth, Y/N settles down on the chair opposite of Bobby, who is already sipping on his coffee while Benny puts a fresh pot on the table. Ash hits the radio, letting Americana music mix with chatter. When everyone is seated, Ellen turns to Y/N.      “Now honey, here we pray before our meal. Feel free to join us, but it’s perfectly fine if you don’t,” she informs the intern with a gentleness in her voice that makes her feel comfortable, whatever option she chooses. Ellen takes her husband’s hand and squeezes it sweetly, then turns to one of the wranglers. “Ash? I believe it’s your turn for prayers.”      “Great, ‘cause I’m starvin’,” Ash states, apparently keeping things short. “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat!”      “Amen!” Benny adds, not wasting a second before starting on his breakfast.

     Y/N grins at the sight of the two men, who couldn’t be more different, devouring the food as her neighbor Jo shakes her head disapproving, muttering ‘savages’. Laughing, Garth reaches over the table for a freshly baked bun while Bobby asks for the butter, and passes the ketchup to his daughter before she can ask for it. The blonde squirts the red sauce on her stir-fried eggs, leaving her bacon unattended long enough for Ash to almost steal it from her, had Ellen not smacked him on the hand with a spatula. The intern might have stumbled on a ranch that at the surface seems a little dysfunctional with workers and wranglers that occasionally score high on the crazy scale, but somehow she feels like she fits in. The fear of not being accepted was washed away by the welcoming comfort that reflects from every single one present in this room. She is a part of this already. 

     As she chews on the delicious bacon while laughing over one of Benny’s funny stories, she glances across the table, catching Dean looking over. It startles her a little, but she doesn’t look away and neither does he. For just a moment, she could swear she caught him off guard when she laid eyes on him, or did she imagine him flinching? The exchange of looks lasts several seconds as the cowboy keeps a hold of her gaze, letting her dwell in his emerald greens, before Bobby breaks the moment unintentionally by elbowing his head wrangler when he tries to pick one of the sausages out of the pan in front of him. Relieved, Y/N breathes and take a swig of her glass of orange juice. How many times does she have to remind herself that the only reason she’s here, is to prove to her dad that she can run her own business? She has to stay focused, remember what Jo told her, and do what she came here to do. Yet the presence of the tall and handsome cowboy with dark blonde hair, gorgeous eyes, and a killer smile is going to make that difficult. She doesn't even have to make it through the first day to figure that much.

     Honestly, Y/N has no idea what she was so worried about in the weeks prior to this internship. Working at the ranch proves to be hard labor, but the physical aspect of the job is about the only one she needs to adjust to. The rookie picks up quickly and doesn't have to be told twice, which is noticed by the crew. Garth especially compliments her on occasion, which fuels her confidence and motivates her to a degree that the soreness of her body is forgotten.      After breakfast, the trail horses are brought in and tied up at the tack up area, where she and Jo prepare them for the first ride of the day. While handling some of the four-legged workers, she tries to remember the names and characteristics of each. She gets to know Teddy, an easy-going, brown gelding whose full name is Ted Nugent, and Pink Floyd, a small chestnut with a peculiar scar on his shoulder in the shape of a triangle; a visible memory of an old injury he suffered when he ran through a fence as a foal. Then there's Bowie, a red roan with a zigzag marking on his forehead, Joplin, a dark mare, and Dylan, a pinto coming of age but is still going strong. Seems like Dean got a little carried away when naming the animals, it’s hard to miss the rock theme.       Jo takes a group of five inexperienced riders for a slow ride, while Garth continues to tack up training horses for the head wrangler, so that he can get off one and on the next. At that pace, eight horses have their workout before lunch. Between sweeping floors and turning out horses, Y/N manages to catch a glimpse of the training, and even though she doesn't want to get caught leaning on a broom, she can't stop her gaze from drifting over to the arena. The skilled rider is a joy to watch, and not just because he looks good doing it. Not once does he use force to control the horse, and the extent of his patience is remarkable, especially when one of the young stallions acts up. Without a shadow of a doubt, Y/N is going to learn a lot from him, she can't wait for her horse to arrive. 

     After lunch - which again is served by Ellen and tastes absolutely devine - the crew retreats to the bunkhouse for their two-hour siesta. Ash lays across the entire couch, completely out of it and snoring loudly, while Benny watches daytime television. The others went back to their rooms, all but Y/N. Impatiently, she draws marks in the sand with the heel of her boot, as she sits on the lowest step of the porch, gazing at the road that meets the private drive, about a half a mile further up. The heat is close to unbearable, even here in the shade droplets of sweat run down her chest. She understands the necessity of the break after experiencing her first day in extreme conditions, because working in these temperatures would be torture. A fly bugs the young woman; she smacks the insect out of her face while she wonders when the special delivery will finally arrive. The transporter called an hour ago that he had made good time and would probably arrive at the ranch half past noon. Which would be right about now, according to her phone. Y/N sighs and snaps her eyes at the main road again. 

     “What time are you expecting your horse?"      Dean slowly walks up from behind. She can feel the wood creak under her as he steps closer. His voice is enough to make her breath hitch a little, although she’s not sure if that’s because his sudden appearance startles her, or because he simply has that effect on her respiration.      Quick to cover her surprise, she answers him without moving from her spot. “Five minutes ago.”      Now she does look over her shoulder, watching him come closer with two cans of Coca-Cola in his hands. He offers her one, which she takes gladly and thanks him for, then she straightens herself again.       “I hope she’s alright,” she sighs, expressing her concern as she opens the drink.      “It’s a long drive from Maine, ain't it?” Dean assumes.      “Thirty-five hours on the trailer,” she replies. “They stopped for the night in Tulsa, but still.”

     He leans against one of the struts supporting the roof. The wrangler sips on his cool drink, clasping his lips around the opening in the can as he tilts his head back and takes a swig, exposing his neck as he does so. Y/N can't help but notice. Damn, that jawline… She snaps out of it and rips her eyes from him before he catches her swooning. Good call, because he looks down on her a second later.      “What’s your horse's name?”      “Meadowsweet.” She smiles.      “Quarter?” he asks again.      Y/N nods. “Sired by Gunner.”      Dean raises his brows impressed. Gunner is a leading National Reining Horse Association stallion, one of the few to earn over five million dollars in offspring, and is inducted into the NRHA Hall of Fame. Foals from his descent are known for their talent and eagerness to perform. That stallion has brought some of the best reining horses in the world.      “Don't worry about it. The transporter would have called if anything had occurred,” he reassures, comfortingly. “And all the horses that come through those barn doors, settle in just fine. These lands have this… peacefulness over them. It’s a good place for the soul, horse and human. You’ll see.”      Calmed by his gentle words, Y/N lets her gaze drift off, the corner of her mouth curling up. Then she glances up at the wrangler, whose eyes haven't left her yet.      “Has it been good for you, too?”       He scoffs. “Like you wouldn't believe.”      It's the way he delivers those words, that tempts Y/N to read the man in her company. How old would he be? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine, maybe? But it's without a doubt that in those years he has been through plenty. The cynical chuckle before he spoke, the way he averted his eyes immediately, those tiny tells just unraveled more than his confident talk and cheery appearance plus Jo’s warnings about the wrangler combined.       “How come?” she asks before she can stop herself.      A little thrown back by her unexpected question, Dean steals a glance, grinning at her nosiness. Instantly the blood rushes to her face again as she closes her eyes and covers her face with both hands. God! Why can't you simply think through what you are about to say before you blurt it out?!       “Sorry, that was inappropriate. Again,” she excuses herself.      “No, no. It’s quite alright,” Dean says, putting her mind to rest.      Usually, the wrangler isn’t eager on opening up about his past. It's something he keeps to himself and only very few know more about. He closed that book a long time ago, so he keeps it simple.      “My mom died when I was young, Dad wasn't around much,” he explains. “I came to live on the ranch when I was fourteen and I never left.”      Silenced, Y/N watches him, eyes big and filling with sympathy.       “No brothers and sisters?” she wonders.      Now she pulls on his heartstrings, even though Dean tries to suppress what he feels within. Yet his jaw flexes, his head tips down as the brightness in his eyes fades.      “I have a brother. But - uh...  He ran away from home before I left myself,” Dean elaborates. “I haven’t seen him since. I don't know where he's at.”

     With empathy heavy on her chest, she tries to think of something to say in order to turn this conversation on a less depressing course than the one it’s sailing now. Y/N breathes out, though. Seems like for the first time since the two met, she’s clueless about what to say, and so she states the obvious.      “I'm sorry,” she says, internally kicking herself in the head for bringing out the skeletons in his closet.       “Don't be. I landed on my feet,” Dean assures, trying to take away her discomfort with a smile. “These lands, this ranch; this is home. And the people runnin’ it and workin’ here are my family. Life’s good.”      He means that: she can tell, because the passion returns in his powerful gaze. Soothed by the sight of his contentment, she smiles down at the empty can in her hand, which she’s torn the cap from.

     “And you? Any siblings?” Dean returns, genuinely interested.      “Yeah, three brothers actually. All older than me.” She grins at that.       “Whoa, that must have been a challenge.” The wrangler chuckles as he takes the last sip of his Coke.      “Not so much. They toughened me up and when it came down to it, and were always there to protect me. Plus, I did learn how to build a treehouse and I’m a pretty good wrestler too,” she adds.       The cowboy smirks imagining it. “And how does a girl like you know so much about Led Zeppelin?” he wonders.      Y/N furrows her brow. “A girl like me ?”      “Yeah, I mean… Y’know,” he mutters, a little unsettled by her tone. “From upstate, young, twenty… something.” Shit. He's digging his own grave here.       “Twenty-four,” she fills in for him, amused by his stumbling, “and I like to think I have an old soul, but really it was my Grandfather who introduced me to music.”      “He did a good job teaching you then,” Dean compliments, looking down at his cowboy boots and still trying to overcome the near-miss.      “He did. He was amazing. Meadow was actually a gift from him,” she tells.

     Was. He was amazing.

     Dean peeks at the intriguing woman from under his lashes. He doesn't need to be a genius to figure out that her Granddad isn't amongst them anymore. A short silence follows as Dean ponders on how to continue the conversation, when a dust cloud on the driveway catches his attention. His focus on the horizon triggers Y/N to get up and look in the same direction.

A bright shimmer of sunlight bounces off the aluminum trailer pulled by a red Dodge, which approaches slowly in the distance. A whirlwind of excitement blows through her as she looks over at Dean. Then she gets down from the porch and heads off to meet them.      “Need help unloading?” he checks before following his intern.      “Yeah, I can use a hand,” she says, looking over her shoulder.      And so he follows. By the time they reach the square in front of the horse barn, the pickup turns onto the parking lot and comes to a stop. A middle-aged man with a black beard turns towards her after getting out of his truck, reaching out to shake her hand.      “Y/N L/N?” he checks.      She nods. “Yes, that’s me.”      A loud neigh sounds from the trailer, followed by stomping. Meadow heard her owner loud and clear and her response puts a smile on the cowgirl’s face. She missed her horse, but it seems like her friend is glad to see her human too.       “Was she okay?” Y/N checks with the transporter as she circles the trailer.      “A little restless every now and then, but other than that she did fine,” he says, taking the safety pins out of the heavy handle, turning it open.

     Dean had done so on the other side as well and the men lower the ramp to the gravel. Inside two pointy small ears are pinned towards the light. Meadowsweet's trademark white face stands out in the shade as she yanks on the chain that prevents her from turning around. It’s for her own good, too much freedom during travel could cause her to lose her balance and fall. But she doesn't understand the restrain, and the mare seems to be insulted by the limitation to her movement. All she wants now is to get out, eat, drink, and stretch her legs.      A soft low purr comes Y/N’s way, her nostrils flaring. After days on the road, taken away from home by a man she didn't recognize, a familiar face calms her. Softly hushing her horse, Y/N walks up to her, takes the lead rope, and clasps it to her handcrafted halter. She releases the chain and pushes open the divider, guiding her horse down the ramp while both Dean and the driver stand on each side of it, making sure Meadow doesn't step next to the lit. Alert, the mare looks around, taking in her new environment. The Arizona sun shines on her light brown coat, revealing a beautiful copper shine. A second neigh reverberates under the high roof of the barn when Y/N leads the Quarterhorse to the first stable on the right. Her call is countered by an echo produced by the other horses, who seem to welcome their new neighbor. Dean follows with the luggage, the heavy saddle under one arm and dragging her large tack box on wheels behind him.      “What did you pack? Bricks?” he complains, grimacing, moving the equivalent of a woman’s suitcase on holiday; a lot of stuff she’s never going to use or wear, but might need.

     Y/N presses her lips together and chuckles a little embarrassed. Yeah, maybe she went a little overboard while packing. She undoes Meadow from her halter and lets her be for a bit, smiling at how the mare curiously sniffs every inch of her new box. When she has decided her stable is safe, she circles around a couple of times, adjusts her bedding by digging through the wood shavings with her front leg, after which she lowers to her knees and falls on her side, taking a long-anticipated roll. She rolls over once, twice, then gets up and shakes off the sawdust, after which she looks at her human friend.      "Satisfied?” Y/N asks, amused.      Meadow sighs, pushing out a long breath, and starts eating the hay; seems like the Queen approves. Shaking her head with a smirk on her face, her owner closes the box. The driver walks up to her with the paperwork and a pen.      “If you could sign this, I’ll be out of your hair,” he requests, handing over the papers and Meadow's FEI passport.       Y/N leaves her autograph on the bottom line and hands the paperwork back. After exchanging another handshake, the man returns to his truck and starts the engine. As they watch him drive off, she lets out a sigh, the weight of the world finally falling off her shoulders.        “Told ya she would be fine,” Dean reminds her, leaning on the stable door and admiring the beautiful mare in the box.      Y/N smiles as she joins him, forking her fingers together while resting her arms on the edge.       “Thanks,” she responds, genuinely.

     He was right, and for the first time since the young woman arrived, a sense of true calm washes over her. Now that Meadow is here, everything is exactly how it should be. Her horse arrived safely and seems fit and well. Y/N can spend time with her again, more than she ever could when she was still in Uni. Now the adventure can truly begin.      “I’m heading back to the bunkhouse. Work starts at two again,” Dean informs, assuming that his intern plans to stay.      She watches him walk off down the alley between the stables, and takes a short second to appreciate the view. His hickory colored western hat is tipped forward to protect his face from the sun, the collar of his plaid blouse up, the hem at the bottom tucked into his jeans. Denim covers his O-shaped legs, which are probably a result of spending years of his life in the saddle. A muscular back, broad shoulders, strong arms. It doesn't matter from which angle she admires him, he’s insanely gorgeous. Another result of all that training and hard work is his well-shaped a--      A wet nose slobbers over Y/N’s face, pulling a startled gasp from her. Meadow took the liberty to awaken her owner from her thoughts, right after drinking from the automatic waterer. Oh well, she needed a shower anyway.      “It’s good to see you too, sugar,” she laughs, petting the horse. “Talking about sugar…”      She digs deep in her pocket. The motion of her hand alone triggers Meadow to extend her neck and ask for the treat with her intense dark eyes. Y/N finds a sugar cube, takes her horse’s favorite candy out and feeds it to the bay mare. Grateful, she crunches the sweet between her molars and begs for more, but her owner holds up her hands innocently.       “I'm out,” she says, sorry to disappoint.      Not taking her words for granted, the smart animal searches her boss’s pockets, first left, then right, then gives her a look that expresses something along the lines of ‘are you kidding me?’ To make it up to the mare, Y/N rubs her neck, softly scratching near her withers. Clearly enjoying the grooming, the mare nozzles her upper lip and turns her head a little. The cowgirl chuckles at the sight, once again realizing how much she missed her company. She mist her whiskers brushing against her hand as she reaches to touch her, and the gentleness in her eyes when she’s at ease.      Y/N’s hand lingers on the flat surface of Meadow’s forehead, between her eyes. It’s a horse’s blind spot, where she can't see her. Touching a horse there requires trust, yet there isn't a single fiber in Meadow’s body that isn't comfortable with her owner, not even her instincts. The mare even lowers her head further, a sign of relaxation and submission. Y/N lets her hand slide down her face and rest on her strong jaw, as she lays her cheek against Meadow’s white blaze, closing her eyes for a moment.      Dean talked about home earlier, how the ranch is his.      Well, this right here, this moment with her Meadow, is hers.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part five here

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Family of Five- Part 7: Secret Holder

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

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

______________________________

Te Koha wipes his brow, the dry heat wafting in through the open door of the garage. He needs the draft though, when there was the occasional breeze that manage to keep him cool. He is determined to finish. Nikau has been dying for a jukebox style dresser. It does not go with the soccer paraphernalia plastered across his room, but Koha’s not one to try and make sense of his brother’s decor sense. Though both his parents tried to talk the little boy out of it, Nikau stuck to his guns. 

Calum and Harlowe tried to find one online, nothing too expensive, since who knew when the boy would grow tired of it. But nothing was coming up. So Koha offered to make him one. He liked working with his hands, he said it’d be a birthday gift, if Calum and Harlowe were okay with going in for half on the supplies. Calum did a step better and paid for it. Koha had money from his gig at the cinema. But he wasn’t going to argue with his father on that. Calum did it because he knew the amount of time it would take Koha to do it and he was touched that Te Koha would work this out. 

Koha turns the sander off, setting it aside to look over the final piece before he can prime and paint. Running a hand over the wood, it’s smooth. He slips the dust mask down right as a knock sounds. 

“How’s it going?”

Koha looks up to see Nikau standing in the opening of the garage that faces the driveway. “Good.” He waves his brother over. “Come here. You can put the last piece in place, yeah?”

“Really?” Nikau asks, eyes growing in excitement. 

“Really really. Now, c’mon.” 

Nikau speeds into the room, steps carefully the cables. “We gotta make sure this fits.” Nikau pulls over the stepstool and carefully grabs the wood as it’s put over his head. “Have you put the dowels in?” 

“Not yet.” Koha watches as the wood sits perfectly. Then he grins down to Nik. “Fits like a dream. “You can help me put them in, if you want?”

The little boy nods, the back of his head tapping lightly against Koha’s chest. The pair work twisting in dowels, unaware of their father’s presence. Calum leans against the garage door that leads into the house, arms folded across his chest. “So how are we going to paint it?” Nikau asks. 

“Esha said she had some designs. We’ll ask her after dinner, I guess.”

“I want it neon! Yeah! That’ll be cool, right, Koha?”

The older boy nods. “Yeah, super cool.”

It goes silent. Koha playfully ruffles Nik’s hair, earning him a huff from the young boy. Nikau gives his loose curls a shake to undo Koha’s mess of his hair. “Alright, boys. Dinner time,” Calum says. His boys turn around and nod at their father. Nikau climbs into the house first, gently bumping against Calum’s hip. Calum falls into the wall, huffing a little in an over exaggeration. “Watch it. I’m fragile!”

Nikau chuckles at the antic.  Calum does it every time. “You can take a hip. It’s not your fingers or voice.” He skips out the way of Calum’s reach, before he can be tickled. “Gotta clean up!” he beams.  Te Koha cleans his hands off, before putting the garage door down and closing the second door that leads outside. 

“It’s coming along nicely,” Calum notes, walking further into the garage. He looks at the wooden frame. He knows once it’s prime and painted it’s gonna be amazing. 

“Neon lights would make it pop,” Koha mutters. “Just don’t have the time.” 

Calum looks to his eldest, much like him. Maybe too much like him, Calum thinks. Always hyper critical of himself, always thinking of something better, a way to improve. As if right now is not enough. “Next time. Besides, this is amazing. You’re making an actual dresser. From scratch. That’s pretty incredible.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“Te Koha David Hood,” Harlowe bellows before her head pops around the corner of the door molding. “You’re a rock star,” she shouts. Then her voice lowers to normal,  “And it’s time to eat. For all your hard work, I made peach cobbler.”

“Thank, Mom.”

“Of course. Don’t be too long, boys.” 

“Good thing she doesn’t yell too often right?” Calum teases. Koha lets his laughter escape him. He honestly is too accustomed to the shouts of his mother. The house feels a little emptier when she’s gone for conferences. Though Esha for sure picks up the slack. Dinner goes as every other dinner does. Nikau and Esha talk to the most, animated while recreating their days at school or out with friends. Te Koha goes last. His days go about the same, or at least they appear to to his parents. 

“Today was fine.” Sometimes he’ll se good if something exciting happened. But most days are just fine. “I passed that maths exam. Didn’t do stellar, but I passed. Teacher will let me work over those problems I got wrong for half points to add back to the score.”

Harlowe nods. She knows the trig and Te Koha aren’t the best of friends. He does well in all his subjects, but this year has been a little tricky for him. “Well that’s good. You staying after tomorrow then?”

He nods. “I’ll stay until Esha’s done with her rehearsals and bring us both back home.” 

“Are we painting my dresser this weekend?” Nikau asks, reaching for another spoonful of green beans. One of his favorite veggies. Getting him to try new foods is still a struggle so they stick to the knowns for him though they slowly introduce new things. 

“Of course we are!” Esha cheers, reaching across like she’s going for some extra helping of potatoes. In reality she’s going in for the roll off Koha’s plate when her mother’s gaze is turned away. Te Koha doesn’t care for them but instead of fussing when Harlowe puts one on his plate, he just smiles. Esha takes it for him and splits it with Nikau, next to her. 

Calum knows. He always knows and tries to keep Harlowe’s attention until the theft is complete. Thankfully he doesn’t have to work to hard because Jack walks over, and sets himself down at her feet, creating the perfect distraction. Harlowe reaches down to scratch the top of her head. Calum knows that she knows about Te Koha and Esha’s deal. But rather than break the cycle, she places the roll and lets Esha take it without saying anything. 

At the dawn of the weekend, Calum wakes all too early in the morning, Harlowe still sleeping next to him on her back. He presses a kiss to her cheek and slips out of the bed. She’ll wake soon, feeling the shift of the mattress. But she will lay in bed for just a few more minutes. It’s about 6 but he can hear shuffling from across the hall. Then the stairs creak. Too heavy for Nikau. And it’s too early for Esha to even consider waking. Finishing up in the restroom, Calum waits at the door, listening to the alarm disarm itself. The front door opens, the alarm beeps twice to signal it. His first thought is that something is wrong. Though Te Koha can be an early riser, he’s never up before Calum. But rather than panicking, Calum slides into some basketball shorts, changes into a sweat resistant t-shirt and remembers that his running sneakers are downstairs. 

He slides into his sneakers and notices Te Koha in the backyard with the dogs, head tilted up to the sun. Te Koha can sense his father’s presence but doesn’t move. Much like his dad and Nana Jay, Te Koha and Calum share a silent language, a gut understanding of the other. “Wanna go for a run? We can take the dogs with us.”

“Sissy would not be down.”

“Sissy can keep up. But once Mum’s out of bed, we’ll take Pepper and Jack.”

“How is she? Like for real,” Koha asks, turning to face Calum. He remembers the years of watching her curl up into the sheets. He remembers the whole reason for the move. He overheard Harlowe’s breakdown in that bathtub. He was supposed to be asleep, but the sob woke him. Calum ran to the bedroom and Te Koha watched from the crack in his door. He waited a minute or two and then carefully walked into his parents bedroom, pressing his tiny ear to the bathroom door. The sound of his mother’s crying never ceased to break his heart. 

Calum drops his head for a moment. He can’t lie to his son. “She stopped taking her meds for a couple weeks there. She’s back on track, but it’s tough sometimes.”

“Why does she do it? She knows those meds work.”

“It’s-she thinks she can go without. And she knows she shouldn’t. She minored in Psychology in undergrad, you know that?” Te Koha shakes his head. “Yeah. She took enough classes though that she should’ve declared a second major. But didn’t turn in the paperwork in time.She knows good and well she because she takes meds and goes to therapy that her chance of relapse is greater. But the brain’s a powerful organ. It fools us all sometimes.”

It’s understood that Te Koha shouldn’t say anything about this. And normally he wouldn’t. He would press this information deep into himself and keep his lips closed. He would instead push her pill bottle closer to her in the mornings. He’ll count the number of pills when she’s gone. He’d ask Calum about the number of refills. He would ask about therapy. But he’s tired. He’s tired of holding secrets, of keeping his mouth shut. A tap sounds from the glass of the backdoor. Harlowe waves, signaling to both of them that’s she’s out of bed before turning and disappearing further into the house. 

This is it, the time of silence is over. Te Koha steps up onto the deck, walking right past the questioning stare of his father. This isn’t about Calum. This is about his mother. He steps into the house, words barreling over his tongue. “Do you know that I don’t like rolls and let Esha takes them?” he asks to his mother’s back. That’s an easy confession. 

Her hair scarf is still on, but she’s in a sweatshirt and lounge pants. “I know,” she says, still walking into the kitchen. “Would you like me to stop?”

“Do you know that Dad tells me when you stop taking your meds? Do you know that all of us can tell? Nikau, Esha, Pepper, Jack, Sissy--all of us.”

She pulls the fridge open, stepping back with the brita filter in her grasps. “I know.” Her voice is quiet. She puts the filter down on the counter and turns around. “I know because you look at me different when I do. You look at me like you did when you were 5 and thought my depression was your fault. You walked into our old garage and cried, apologizing and saying you would do better. What happened wasn’t your fault and never has been.”

“I know it’s not my fault. I know that now.” Te Koha walks closer to her, pausing a couple steps from her. She looks up to him, eyes watering. He may favor her physically, but his soul is all Calum. She takes his hand, pulling him into a hug. She wishes she could undo all the fear put in him from her own demons. She swore to herself that she would do her best to protect all of her children. But she was the one to hurt him. Not intentionally, not maliciously, but she had done it nonetheless. Te Koha folds into her embrace, feeling the slight tremor to her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I keep hurting you after I promised I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Ma. You don’t have to hide either. You told me how you got pregnant with me before marrying Dad. You told me that Dad and you nearly didn’t make it. You tell me so much and yet, you hide this. Something that you can’t control.”

“I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry about you. You aren’t to worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you, Ma.”

“Momma’s just hardheaded, huh?”

“Just a little.” They embrace for a moment longer. “I love you,” he whispers to her. He wants no one but her to hear. Not even an ant, not the dogs, not his dad, not even the chill in the air. It is for Harlowe’s ears only. 

He reply is just as quiet in return. “I love you. With every ounce of me.” 

Te Koha slowly pulls back from his mother’s hold, wiping her tears from her cheeks. “You gotta take care of yourself. Who’s gonna nag me or shout in the house even though we’re not supposed to shout in the house? Who’s gonna give those bear hugs that make you feel like you chest will implode? Who’s gonna just put hair oil in my bathroom with little notes on what they’re good for? Who’s gonna do all that if you don’t take care of yourself?”

“Esha,” she says with a wobbly smile. “Well, she’ll definitely shout into the house.” Harlowe nods, sniffling hard. “I’ll take care of myself. I know I shouldn’t stop taking them. I know. I’m just human. Parents are human too. And you shouldn’t be so worried about me. You should be a kid, staying out late, getting drunk, stumbling home shambly.”

Te Koha laughs. He’s not shy about a pint here or there thanks to his Dad. He has friends. He is a still a kid. But he’s a kid that needs his mom. He’d be so lost without her. After things started getting good again, she’d pull him and Esha into her lap, playing with their hair. Their favorite movies on the TV screen. He remembers when they renewed their vows and he watched her dance. That propelled him to relearn the Haka. Thanks to Calum too and his encouraging words. Every birthday she made him cupcakes because he wasn’t a fan of cake. His was the biggest one, lemon with lemon icing.

When his crush in year 7 rejected him, she held him throughout the night, let him cry it out. She never tried to tell him she was too good looking, never tried to tell him that they were wrong. She held him, told him that his person was out there. She told him that it was okay that this hurt. Pain was not to be pushed down, but felt and dealt with it. He needs his mom. It’s as simple as that. “Funny you mention that,” Koha starts. “Ken and Davon and I might be going out tonight. So I wouldn’t wait up for me.”

Harlowe laughs. “But I surely will try to.”

“I know you will.”

After one last hug, Te Koha slides into his sneakers, grabbing the leash for Pepper and following behind Calum and Jack. They stretch for a few minutes, silent between them. The pavement in unforgiving beneath their sneakers, sending jolts up Te Koha’s bones. The air is crisp, warm, but not unforgiving. Pepper keeps pace next to Te Koha’s strides. He pushes past Calum without even realizing. “Keep up, old man,” he teases between pants. 

Calum grins at the taunt. “I’m old, not Superman. Let me be.”

As his feet slap the pavement, Te Koha considers telling his parents. He’s been seeing Davon for a few weeks now. But there’s something fun about having his own secrets. He holds so many others. But this one doesn’t hold him down. This one makes him feel alive, remember the way his lips feel against Koha’s. It’s only technically true that Ken, Davon and him are going out. It’s a double date, Davon and him with Ken and some girl. Koha’s yet to actually meet her. He’s seen in her passing around school, but they’ve never interacted much. She seems nice. But everyone seems nice. Ken’s track record isn’t the best. 

As they look back around to the last stretch of the block, Calum notes the way Te Koha’s head is not on his shoulders. It’s physically still attached, but he’s clearly mentally elsewhere. And not the bad kind either. The release is the best medicine, the unburdening of all the stuff inside is how people break free. The dogs are let inside for water and Koha heads to the detached shed. They converted that into a home gym. Calum follows behind him. He’s tired for sure, but he’s going to try and see if he can get to the bottom of this new good mood. 

“Pull up challenge?” Calum offers. 

Koha nods. “You will lose.”

“I’ve hoisted three babies for many years. I think I got this. But if you’re so confident,” Calum steps aside, waving his hand for Te Koha, “be my guest.”

Koha reaches for the bar, hops just a little to grab the bar. Koha pulls up for one, swings for the second. He gets through the seventh one before dropping from the bar. His face a little red and huffy. Calum’s got some weight on Koha. It’s bound to happen over the years, but he does his best to keep his weight down. He’s slowed on the beers. There’s not much liquor in the house because of Harlowe. Calum exhales deeply before taking more air in and then grabbing the bar. 

He pulls up, chin resting over the bar. He’s a push up guy but knows Koha’s been working to improve his pull-up strength. So here is his huffing to get past the sixth pull up. He gets up the seventh time and keeps pushing. Eight. Nine. Ten. He let’s go, feet planting to the ground. He’s still got it. Te Koha huffs, a smile lifting half his face. “Show off”

“Just mad you’re old man still got it.” Calum reaches out and squeezes Te Koha’s bicep. “You’re getting there though.”

“I mean you’re right. You’ve got some years on me. But I still think in the end, I’m going to have you beat.” Te Koha flexes. 

“I’m not sure about that,” Calum grins, flexing in return. 

“I’m polling this on Instagram.”

Calum laughs, rolling up the sleeve to his shirt. “It won’t be a fair fight. I’ve still got it with the ladies.” Calum pulls his phone from his pocket. They pose in front of the mirror, Te Koha in front of him slightly. Both flexing to show off their biceps. Calum puts a poll on the picture. Who’s got the better gains. Pops or son? 

When they enter the rest of the house, Harlowe’s sitting at the counter, pen in hand, reading over papers. Koha kisses her cheek, eying her last slice of cinnamon toast. “I made too much. Take the last one,” she hums not looking up from the page. 

“Thanks, Ma,” he grins chomping down on the slightly cold piece of bread. “Dad and I have a poll on instagram about who has the best biceps.’

Harlowe points the tip of her pen to Koha and he beams at his father. “She’s gotta say that,” Calum retorts with a smile. 

“I picked in a random direction, I swear,” she grins, finally looking up. She knows she didn’t. She picked Te Koha on purpose. “Love you Cal,” she calls out as he ascends the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he huffs. She can hear the grin in his voice. 

Once everyone is awake, Calum fixes a quick breakfast, pancakes, eggs and bacon. Nikau begs to start painting the dresser so Esha throws on an old shirt she took from Calum’s drawer many years ago and Harlowe sacrifices an old shirt of hers from when they painted the new house to put on Nikau, knowing for a fact he’ll ruin his own clothes. Esha takes charge once they’re settled into the garage. She outlines what sections needs to be painted what color. She lets Nikau paint the sides of the dresser. It requires less precision, the perfect job for a seven year old. 

“I’m going to miss you when you go,” Esha says to Te Koha. He leaves for uni soon. He won’t be too far away. Just far enough. “Who can I collude with to bring alcohol into the house?”

“You heard nothing, Nik,” Koha says with a wink. He winks back, understanding not to say a word. “I can come home on the weekends.”

“It’s just not the same, ya know. Your room will be empty,” she whispers, cleaning her brush before going back to detailing to make the top look like the song selections. 

“I know. I’ll be there for every show and every football game too. I love you guys.”

Esha holds the back of her hand to forehead. “My stars!” Koha marks her arm with the green paint on her arms. She retaliates with the white. 

“Paint the wood, not each other!” Nikau laughs. Both Esha and Te Koha eye each other before putting a mark on each of his arms. He scoffs and then swipes at Te Koha first before just barely getting Esha as she jumps out of the way. 

Calum and Harlowe can hear their laughter echoing from the garage. She sneaks to the garage door from the inside of the house. Cracking open the door, she can see her babies, covered in painting, smiles on their faces. Calum peeks over the top of her head and watches the scene too. They get about halfway done painting before calling it a day. Harlowe fixes dinner that day, lunch was a free all except Nikau who eats dinosaur nuggets and broccoli. 

Te Koha shouts at his departure that evening, hoping to avoid his mother’s spill. She shuffles down the hallway. “Don’t drink and drive, eat something, text you when I’m on my way back.”

She smiles and nods. “Is that Ken or Davon outside?”

“Davon. He’s got a meet tomorrow, so he’s not drinking.”

He waits for the hug, the kiss on the cheek. But she just smiles, arms folded against her chest. Her smile is different, a little shier than usual, as if holding something back. Te Koha’s heart hammers in his chest. She finally steps into him, kissing his cheek. “Tell Davon I said hi and next time, he can come inside.”

Te Koha nods, stepping through the door. He blinks rapidly, hands a little shaky. She must know. But he was sure he had been careful. As she settles back onto the couch into Calum’s side, he kisses the top of her head. “Think we should tell him we saw him last week with Davon at the gas station?”

Harlowe shakes her head. “No.” He knows she knows. He knows they’re okay with it; they love him all the same. But if he’s not ready to spil that secret, she will let him hold onto it. She will let him keep the secrets a teenager is supposed too. “Let him have that.”

Te Koha settles into the passenger seat of Davon’s car. He registers the kiss to his cheek but he’s still in shock. “Everything okay?” Davon asks, holding onto Koha’s hand for a moment. 

His parents know. But they won’t bring it up. They will let him have this. This is how he’ll still be a kid to them. His parents still love him; they want him to stay young. Tears are blurring his vision. “Yeah,” he sniffs. “I’m fine.”

“You’re crying baby. You sure?”

Te Koha’s laughter is inevitable. He’s sure. He’s more than sure. He’s so glad to have his mother, even in all her craziness. There’s no one else quite like her.

[detectivejigsawpines]

A Pinesmas Carol-part 5 (A pretty messed-up memory)

Happy Easter, everyone!  A new chapter that’s...not exactly in the spirit of the holiday, since it contains references to trafficking, torture and attempted murder, but still.

Xander was disappointed when they left the downtown early.  But Stan placated him somewhat by carrying him on his shoulders again, and when they got home Rebecca took him off to play in the living room, while the men sat down at the kitchen table so Stan could explain.

He stared down at his hands, feeling his stomach sink with the knowledge that this all had to come out in front of them, including multiple revelations he wasn’t proud of.  But keeping his family safe outweighed his dignity every time.

“...It all happened about two or three years ago.  I was in Iowa, tryin’ ta get some business dredged up for these things called Stan-Vacs.  Not one of my better sales. But one night I ran inta this group-” his hands clenched a little- “and Archer was the guy in charge.  I needed money badly, and he said he’d give me some if I did a job for them, no questions asked.

“They needed help with, um, secretly moving some crates from one state to another, which they said were full o’ just a bunch of animals.  Rare, exotic kind, who were gonna be bought by some collectors. And I figured, what the heck, they’re not gonna eat ‘em or kill ‘em, they just wanna keep ‘em in their menageries or whatever, so what’s the harm?

“So I took the job.  I went ta the warehouse where the crates were bein’ kept, and helped load them onto a truck.  But…” He closed his eyes for a second. “I heard something in one of the crates make a noise.  And I peeked inside, cuz it didn’t sound quite right...and it turned out that they weren’t animals.”

He let that sink in for his brothers, hoping he didn’t need to elaborate that much.  Xander let out a peal of laughter in the living room, and he inadvertently flinched.

“Oh my g_d,” Shermie whispered, recognizing the implications for what they were.

“Yeah.”  His gaze remained fixed on the table, studying the mixture of light and dark grains in the wood, not wanting to see their potential disgust at him for getting himself mixed up with that kind of people.

After a moment he went on, “I-I volunteered ta drive the truck to the drop off spot...but when I was outta sight, I drove to a few blocks from a homeless shelter instead.  Then I opened the crates, and let the kids out, and told ‘em where ta go ta get help.

“I tried ta make it look like they’d broken out on their own, and then drove back to where I’d left my car, planning to get as far away as possible...but they found me.  And Archer figured out what I’d done.”

“What did he do?” Ford asked.  His voice sounded like he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know, but he was making himself ask anyway.

Stan huddled in on himself even more.  “Nothing too-”

“What.”

It had been a long time since Stan heard that level of rage in Ford’s voice.  And while it was nice that it wasn’t directed at him...it was still creepy.

He hesitated, and decided it would be easier to just show them.

So he stood up, pushing back his chair, and hiked up the side of his shirt.

“This.”

Shermie and Ford both gasped, and Stan was guessing that it wasn’t at the amount of hair he’d managed to accumulate as he got older.

No, it was probably at the jagged white scar running along his gut.

Stan lowered his shirt.  “But hey, it could’ve gone a lot worse…”

****

Flashback flashback flashback flashback

Stan was beginning to realize that getting involved with Archer had been a mistake.

Mainly because he was chained up and dangling by his ankles in a slaughterhouse, surrounded by dead pigs that were similarly strung up, and one of Archer’s goons was coming towards him with a cleaver in one hand and a meat hook in the other, and they weren’t for giving him a fancy haircut.

The big gorilla of a man looked like he was going to enjoy this way too much; a grin leaked its way onto his face as he got closer, and his eyes were bright and excited, like the chance to butcher Stan like a hog was the most exciting thing he’d gotten to do all day.

Archer was at his side, staring down at Stan.  Unlike in books, his eyes weren’t at all unusually colored-just a normal light blue.  The only thing that made them scary was the cold way in which they were staring at him, and the fact that they were in the face of a murderous psychopath who sold children for kicks.

“You know this is nothing personal, right, Pinowski?” he asked, pushing on Stan’s legs with two fingers and making him swing back and forth.  “I like your moxie; really, I do. But it’s bad business if I don’t make an example of you, so no one else gets dumb ideas.”

“Yikes,” Stan muttered, feeling a little woozy from all the blood rushing to his head, “you always talk like you’re Edward G. Robinson or somethin’?”

Archer smiled thinly, and stepped back, giving a nod to the gorilla.  He twirled the cleaver in his hand, clearly about to decide where to make the first cut.

By now, though, Stan had put the paperclip he’d kept tucked in his sleeve to good use, and as the gorilla stepped forward, he swung his newly freed fist, with the chains wrapped around his knuckles.  It hurt, but it was worth it to knock the thug into Archer, sending them both sprawling to the floor like a couple of ninepins.

Stan instantly started wriggling, trying to pull himself up so he could pick the locks on his ankles.  It was about as hard as it sounds, though, so instead he found himself swinging, his back slamming into one of the dead pigs behind him; he felt the line behind him starting to move, and it put him in mind of those weird things people kept in offices, those balls on strings where you pull on one end and when it smacks into its buddies the one at the other end moves-

Newton’s cradles, that’s what Ford said they were called.

Ugh, of all the times for him to remember his brother-

Stan barely managed to twist out of the way of the cleaver, which was swung with a vengeance at his neck; almost on reflex his hands flew up, grabbing the gorilla’s other wrist and trying to force it back.  Even using all his strength, though, the meathook stubbornly pressed forward, digging into his stomach and pulling down in a jagged line. The only benefit to this was that it gave Stan, fighting through the agony, a chance to pound him with an unexpected fist in the gut.

It took a bit more effort, but through a series of near-miracles Stan managed to escape into the night with his life and a deep gash in his gut before the cops showed up.

End of flashback end of flashback end of flashback end of flashback

****

“...I dunno if the kids got away or anything,” Stan finished, staring at the table again.  “I...think I just passed out in my car for a few days, after I cleaned and stitched it up best I could.  Somehow no one found me, and as soon as I could I got outta Dodge.”

“...You stitched it yourself?” Shermie asked, aghast.

“Didn’t think I could exactly go to a hospital,” Stan said.  “They’d wanna know what happened. Besides, I couldn’t go anywhere right then, I was hurtin’ so bad.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get some kind of severe organ damage!” Ford whispered.

“Yeah, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “My point is, if that was Archer I saw, he’s probably still gonna be mad that I screwed things up for him and then got away before he could finish makin’ an example of me.”  He swallowed, hard. “Maybe I should leave. If he sees that you guys’re my family, you’ll be the first thing he comes after, so-”

“No.”

His brothers spoke at almost the same time; Stan gave them a very bewildered stare.

Shermie spoke next, firmly.  “You’re not going anywhere, Stanley.”

“But Sherm-”

“We’re not letting you handle this yourself.  End of story.”

And as scared as that made Stan, because of how much danger they were potentially putting themselves in...having his family standing by him right now made a warm feeling grow in his heart.