#in part because it's really convenient knowing that they can pick any dog park to walk to and the other will randomly be there

[sufficientlylargen]

Story Concept: Star-crossed lovers, destined to fall in love but be kept apart, except they don't actually have any interest in each other, the stars are just super obsessed with shipping them for some reason.

[nameless-shrimp]

SILENCE || CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Deaf!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual content.

Notes: okay, finally. chapter three. sorry for the wait. i love gojo satoru. really much. okay, enjoy.

previous chapter.

He ran into you again.

Satoru was patiently waiting outside the gates of the school, wondering where Geto was so that they could both make their way to meet Yaga for whatever mission that they would be assigned to for the day. He sighed, kicking his feet against small pebbles on the sidewalk. He knew that he couldn’t be late for another meeting with Yaga, though he was very moody for some type of pastry.

Then again, knowing who he was, he wasn’t surprised at his sudden cravings. Not bothering to wait for Geto, he decided to make his way to the bakery that was a few blocks away from the school.

As he walked down the sidewalk, he glanced around his school. It really did look like a religious school, though the average human would think that, and then Satoru continued to whistle his thoughts away (ranging from wondering where Geto could be to figuring out the kind of pastry he was craving—so was it chocolate croissants or maybe, a pecan pie today?) despite the stares he’d get from people that would walk past him.

It didn’t take him long to reach the bakery, where Satoru opened the door to find that the bakery wasn’t as busy, most likely because it wasn’t a rush hour kind-of-time.

Not that he was complaining, though.

Satoru took out his phone, deciding to scroll through his past images of him and Geto grabbing dinner the other night. (Half of them were blurry, most likely because Geto was trying to take his phone away before the brisket was gonna burn on the grill).

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have anyone that knows sign language.”

The voice was audible, and it was the usual old lady that ran the bakery that caught his attention. However, he trailed his eyes up, gazing his attention to the lady he recognized before he minded his own business and he opened up some messages from Yaga-sensei, and as per usual, it had to deal with exorcising grade two curses.

Christ, a lot of this was starting to become tiring; at least, it seemed like a lot of people knew that Satoru was the strongest since everyone began to rely on him.

Someone in front of him left their position in line, so Satoru moved up a bit, scrolling through his phone as usual. He bit his bottom lip, wondering if he should’ve brought some lollipops with him so that he could’ve kept his cravings at bay.

“I appreciate you typing out what your order is on the phone.”

He looked up once again after taking a few steps forward, not minding the person in front of him as he was browsing the pastries. It seemed like the croissants were freshly baked a while ago, as expected from this place—it was the best; donuts sounded like a good option as well too. Sprinkles, icing, or maybe some sort of jelly filled treat. It really made him itch for a sweet, and he felt himself wrinkling his nose at the tasty thought.

“Gojo Satoru!” The old lady perked her voice out loud and Satoru shot a grin, waving at the lady who had her usual pink glasses and a bright smile on her face. It seemed like the person next to Satoru shifted a bit as they were fiddling with their wallet, though it wasn’t Satoru’s business.

“Hey Yuki,” Satoru greeted. “I’m not sure what I’m craving for today.”

“Would you like to try a red bean donut?”

“I’d like something sweeter,” he grinned.

The old woman chuckled, her laugh vibrating a large aura of positive energy—something that Satoru had always admired. “It’s no surprise coming from you. I can even make you a crepe if you want, you know? Chocolate and bananas?”

“Ah,” Satoru held up his phone, checking if Geto had texted him of his whereabouts, but it seemed as if Satoru had no update. He tapped his foot, debating if he should stay for some time to eat.

The person next to Satoru had dropped a couple of dollar bills in the tip jar, earning a welcoming source of gratitude from the lady. However, Satoru’s thoughts were interrupted once the sound of plastic bags had fallen to the floor.

Satoru looked down to see the customer that was next to him bend down to pick up the bags of bagels. He bent down to pick up two bags—it seemed like this person liked cinnamon raisin and plain bagels—and handed them off to them. “Here you go,” he sent off a generous smile.

The person in front of him tensed up and looked up at him, their hood had fallen down to their shoulders.

And—his breath hitched.

He didn’t know why, but it did. He wasn’t expecting to see you here out of all places, and it seemed a bit far out from the neighborhood you saw him at. Though, Satoru shouldn’t question it, because he did run into you at the nearby convenience store.

“Oh, hey,” Satoru knocked some of the confidence back in himself.

You glanced up at him and though you couldn’t see the color that was hidden beneath the black shades that were nearly at the tip of his nose, you could tell that he looked a bit surprised as well too. And Satoru knew that he was. Perhaps that he didn’t expect to come in contact with you but it shouldn’t have mattered anyway, you were nothing but a stranger to him that bumped into him late at night or that you were kind enough to offer him chocolate once before. It wasn’t that big of a deal and Satoru knew better than that, or at least, he thought he did.

He cleared his throat, smirk growing as if confidence had punched his gut and he straightened up his posture. “Nice seeing you here,” and his smirk grew into a cheeky grin.

Satoru’s flirty side was already making its way out and you couldn’t help but feel warm to your cheeks. And there it was; the sight that Satoru admired because it always fed deep into his ego enough to make him have that boisterous and barbaric personality, only because he knew that he was gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and outstanding in his own way. Getting these kinds of reactions were lighting the fire to burn inside him more; that arrogance that everyone was annoyed by yet for some reason, it was a part of Gojo Satoru.

“Yuki,” Satoru called out to the baker behind the counter as he watched you place your bought items in the plastic bag quickly—almost like you were nervous. “I will pay for this one’s orders.”

“How kind of you, sweetheart,” the old lady perked up a genuine smile and Satoru winked at you, where you gazed up at him and came to the realization that he was way too damn tall.

After Satoru had ordered some donuts to eat, he decided to ask you to sit next to him near the large window that had a perfect view of the street on the outside. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, gazing at the owners walking their dogs and the small Beetle vehicle that was parked outside of the bakery.

Every once in a while, Satoru gazed at you, and you’d be lost in your own head as well, staring out at the world that was outside of the window. He wasn’t sure if you were too nervous to speak to him—and he wasn’t sure where this nervousness came from, but he really wasn’t complaining; after all, he had this kind of effect on women, anyway—due to the fiddling of your fingers on your cup of coffee or the times that you bit your bottom lip, looking hesitant to even face him.

But Satoru couldn’t lie to himself. For some reason, he found himself a bit tense.

And it had to be because you never spoke a word to him after your previous encounters together. That had to be it.

Seriously.

“So,” Satoru broke the silence, tilting his head as he bit into the chocolate glazed donut. This caught your attention as you finally forced yourself to make eye contact with him—or really, you were just staring at black sunglasses, but close enough—and he pursed his lips. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You shook your head.

“I won’t annoy you with questions about it,” Satoru smiled politely at you before chewing the bite from the donut he took. “So,” he spoke with his mouth full for a moment before swallowing and continuing, “is there any way I can get to know you?”

You bit your bottom lip again and then reached for the phone that you had in your hoodie pocket. You began typing on the phone and then held it up for Satoru to see. His eyes adjusted to the bright screen as he read the text.

'My name is L/N Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. :)'

“Likewise,” Satoru responded, placing his donut down on the plate. “Gojo Satoru. We’ve ran into each other a few times before.”

You nodded.

“So you remember?”

You nodded again.

“At least I don’t look crazy, heh,” he chuckled awkwardly, unsure of how to properly have a conversation with someone that was not open to conversation. Satoru wanted to ask because he was used to having women touch his neck and beg for his attention all over, regardless of who it was—and there would be easy-going conversations here and there to break the ice, somehow.

But with you—clearly, you were different. And Satoru didn’t want to sound basic with that thought in his head. But you were—because you weren’t fucking speaking a word to him.

“Do you mind if I refer to your first name?” Satoru questioned, raising his brows. “You’re welcome to do the same to me—if you ever speak a word to me.”

You nodded, smiling a little bit.

Some progress was being made, at least.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if this offends you but—”

Before he could finish his question, you chuckled out loud, nearly spilling your hot coffee on the table and you waved your hand in front of him, trying to signal him to stop. You held up your pointer finger, informing him to hold it for a minute as you typed on your phone with your free hand quickly. Satoru raised a brow at this, but he knew that you were probably already answering his question—and really, he should’ve known you’d get asked this a lot.

You held your phone up to him.

'It doesn’t. Don’t worry. But I am deaf. I can’t hear.'

“Eh?!” Satoru fell back, completely confused by the text. He pointed at you while throwing his free hand in his tousled white hair. “H-Hold on, so how are you able to hear me?”

You fought back another chuckle before you turned to the side, parting your hair behind your ear where the visible sight of the implants in your ear were noticeable.

Satoru felt dumb. Because—duh, no fucking shit. Of course, hearing aids and cochlear implants existed.

“Oh, right,” Satoru pouted, pursing his lips playfully as he eyed the bakery in front of him. Suddenly, the green couches and the faint string lights were more of an interesting sight to admire—when really, he just felt pretty embarrassed. “My bad.”

You simply kept your smile and waved your hand around.

“So, do you not speak then?”

'I do. I just… don’t like the sound of my voice. I was born deaf.'

“I’m sure you sound cute,” Satoru grinned, completely satisfied with his compliment. And of course, you pushed your lips in a thin line and turned away, trying to hide the faint blush that was growing from your neck to your cheeks. The obvious light pink was a delightful sight for him to see; you didn’t realize it but you were definitely feeding his ego up, and Satoru liked it—a lot. “C’mon. You can talk to me, right?”

You bit your lip again and shook your head shyly.

He squinted his eyes a bit as he took note of your behavior. It seemed like you bit your lip a lot whenever you were in situations that made you timid. Satoru found this cute—or really, he wasn’t going to lie to himself, it was kind of hot. But he couldn’t say that kind of stuff to you, especially with how fragile you looked in front of him.

Satoru felt his phone vibrate and he realized that he received a message from Geto. With one glance, he realized that Geto had finally made it to the outside gates of the school.

He pouted. He wasn’t ready to leave you yet, but for some reason, he was interested in you. Satoru thought that you were someone he could play around with for some time—and yeah, maybe that was the move that he would be going for.

“Hey,” Satoru sighed deeply, pretending to act a bit disappointed—or well, he kind of was in reality, but he made it more dramatic than he really needed to. “Sorry Y/N. My best friend’s waiting for me somewhere. Do you think we can talk again?”

You nodded, smiling at him.

That bright smile of yours was contagious because he found himself smiling as well. It felt genuine, right, and he felt comfortable. Though no words ever came out of your mouth, he felt steady—which was good. It was a great start, actually.

“What’s your phone number? We should meet up more often,” Satoru suggested, a cheeky grin stretched out on his lips.

You exchanged numbers with him and he couldn’t lie to himself. He was thrilled—excited almost, and he wasn’t really sure why. Maybe it was because he scored himself another girl that he could possibly fool around with, but this wasn’t a surprise to Gojo Satoru. With that arrogant personality and beaming azure eyes that captivated the soul of others, he knew that he had it in him to get what he wanted.

Needless to say, the scent of freshly baked croissants never left his nose and for some odd reason, the picture of your smile couldn’t escape his head.

Once Satoru left the bakery, he was met with Geto, who was resting his back against the wall and he eyed his friend cautiously before he huffed a breath with a small smile on his lips. Clearly, he knew. “You got another girl’s number, did you?” Geto questioned.

“You got it.” Satoru snapped his fingers as he put his hands in his uniform pockets. “C’mon. You can’t act surprised.”

“Oh,” his closest friend rolled his eyes, dark hair swaying with the wind. “I’m not.”

“Really now?”

“Really.”

The mission was supposed to be quick and easy, at least that’s what Geto was informed about—and Satoru was informed as well. (But it wasn’t like the white-haired flirt even paid any attention to the messages or lectures that Yaga gives, anyway).

Staring up at the tall building in front of him, Satoru took one glance at his phone and scoffed at the messages from the previous girl he slept with, who was consistently texting him to come back to her place. He wasn’t interested anymore, clearly, and he had stated that numerous times.

Times like these were exhausting for him, but it made Satoru feel uneasy with himself, though he refused to admit it to himself no matter how many times he eyed himself at the mirror, admiring his own reflection but hidden beneath was someone that was afraid to open up about how he felt. And he always cared; it wasn’t like he didn’t—because he always did. It showed from his affectionate gestures with the women he slept with and how he’d always listened to them whenever they vented about their bad days before officially getting the chance to sleep with them.

Maybe he really was an asshole, toying around with their feelings. Yet, was he really? Satoru was lost in his thoughts—once again. The damn whirlwind of thoughts that seeped its way into moments when he needed to pay attention to the present the most, like the murmuring inaudible voice of Geto to his ears or feeling the presence of intense cursed energy coming from the building in front of him.

Geto turned to face his closest friend who was tucking his phone deep in his uniform pockets. “Another girl trying to hit you up again?” Geto asked, raising his brows.

Smirking to himself, almost as if he was the most charming prince, Satoru nodded and stretched out his arms. “Yeah, the last girl I fooled around with,” he explained before staring back at the building with the immense cursed energy that was radiating a few feet from the roof. “But it’s fine. I found someone else I can mess around with for the time being.”

Geto decided to take the first few steps to the building as Satoru followed behind. Geto shook his head and smiled to himself, allowing Satoru to furrow his eyebrows. “Can’t help but break more hearts, huh?”

“It's not my fault they fall for me. You know I always tell them I’m not someone that’s the commitment type,” Satoru scoffed. And Geto knew he was telling the truth too. “Hell, even you know that.”

“I know,” Geto responded. “You’re just something else.”

“What do you mean?” Satoru questioned, suddenly feeling a bit defensive.

“You’re a jujutsu sorcerer,” Geto stopped on his trail and then made a swift turn to face his friend with a serious look glued on his face. “You keep messing around with all these women. I know you don’t want a relationship, and you’re just being you but don’t play with me. Do these women even know that you’re a jujutsu sorcerer? Or, at least, you’re capable of the abilities that you have?”

Satoru didn’t say a word and he only looked away. Of course, Geto would question him, but now was not the time for a lecture. He shook his head and refrained from answering his questions, “we need to exorcise this little shit already,” Satoru groaned, walking forward.

“I’m talking to you,” Geto raised his voice.

“You’re not my parent,” Satoru huffed. “No, they don’t know. None of the girls I’ve been with knew about what I had or what I do or anything about me. I was just there to fuck and leave. I don’t even cuddle them or anything; I tell them these things. I always do.”

“It’s not about you telling them what you are and who you are and what you do,” Geto explained, crossing his arms. Seriously, Satoru couldn’t believe that this discussion was going on. He wanted this to wait for another time, but it seemed as if Geto didn’t have the patience—or rather, his mind was eager to know some things right here and there. “I’m curious. What if there is a time that you fall in love?”

Satoru held back a snort. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“It won’t. I can’t be in a relationship.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Satoru groaned loudly, where the noise was audible enough to echo in the abandoned hall of the building that they had walked their way into. “Who would want to date a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“Ouch,” Geto chuckled lightly, placing a palm on his heart. “Are you telling me that I can’t get any action then?”

“You know what I mean,” Satoru shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Unless the girl is a jujutsu sorcerer or can handle her own, then I can’t be in a relationship. Even if she was a sorcerer though, if she can’t be strong, then I don’t want her.”

“There you go, again.”

“What now?”

“Bashing on the weak,” Geto sighed, closing his eyes. “You understand that jujutsu sorcerers are here to help protect those that can’t see the curses or are too weak to exorcise them. But it doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with it, man.”

“Look,” Satoru snapped, letting his frustration show in the tone of his attitude. “I don’t have time to protect and babysit my girlfriend—if I ever have one, okay? I’m sorry. I just—fuck, can we talk later?”

Geto had a smug look on his lips. “Nah, let’s talk about this now.”

“We need to exorcise this little shit or else we won’t hear it from Yaga-sensei.”

“I know, but I find this more interesting.”

“Why you—” Satoru shook his head and then placed both of his palms on his cheeks. He felt his face fall into a flushed state; he knew exactly why he wouldn’t be able to be committed, and part of the reason would be that he was someone that really couldn’t protect the weak forever, let alone the person that he may end up with long enough to call his soulmate.

If that ever happened.

Satoru knew who he was as a person; he wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of who he was, mostly because he believed he wasn’t capable of being in a relationship. The strongest and the idea of continuously protecting someone who was weaker than him seemed exhausting. It was a selfish thought, though he couldn’t blame himself; he mostly worried about himself rather than worrying and caring for another that wasn’t him.

Despite the obvious selfish thought, Satoru couldn’t find himself to let anyone close to him get in any dangerous situations. Even though he knew that—hypothetically if he did love someone—he wouldn’t let that happen, but he didn’t believe anyone should grave themselves in any bit of danger that the jujutsu sorcery life held, let alone an innocent person.

“Fine,” Geto placed his hands on his shoulders and stretched out his back. He let out a tired yawn before he glanced up at the stairs ahead, where the walls were cracked and the paint was chipped. Clearly, the building had been abandoned for quite some time, and Geto looked at Satoru with a pleasing smile. “But tell me about this new girl you’re trying to mess with.”

“Can it wait?” Satoru whined, portraying a playful pout as he bit his bottom lip that quivered.

“I don’t think so.”

“Man, alright,” Satoru sighed, placing one of his palms on the back of his head. “She’s really cute. She doesn’t talk at all, really—actually, she’s deaf.”

“What now?”

“She can’t hear,” Satoru explained, pointing at his ears and mouthing out words.

Geto looked at him with an irritated stare, clearly, a vein was popping out from his forehead and he huffed, “I know what being deaf means. But how are you even talking to her?”

“She talks on her phone and types out the words,” Satoru explained, scratching his head. “She has these implants or something that she wears and she talked to me about it today.”

“I take it that she doesn’t have many friends?”

“Man, I really don’t know.”

“And you’re gonna fool around with her feelings like that?”

Satoru whined, placing his palms on his flushed forehead. “Can we please talk about this later or something? I don’t wanna hold back on this mission.”

Geto had a smirk grow on his lips. “You actually want to get some business done, hmm?”

“Shut it,” Satoru said as he gritted his teeth.

“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over.”

“Fine.”

At least for now the conversation was over.

[hattywatch]

T. Jost - Dog Day Afternoon

A/N: No one asked for this. It’s just a small meet-cute. It’s been a while, be gentle!

“Nooo. No!” A gentle tug on the leash brings the labradoodle back to your side, “We do not poop on lawns in this neighborhood, mister!” You’d be absolutely mortified to be caught bagging up poop off of the pristinely manicured lawns in this community, so you bend down and give Cooper a satisfying scratch behind his ear and let him gently tug you towards the end of the block. 

He’s one of your favorites, so well behaved and affectionate when you visit him. His humans are out of town for the weekend, and you stop by a few times a day to exercise him and give him his meals. If someone had asked you when you were in high school if you saw yourself picking up after people’s dogs to pay your bills you’d be confused to say the least. But, the fact of the matter is you’ve opened your own business with five girls working for you, and you rarely have to deal with humans on the day-to-day, so it’s actually kind of a blessing in disguise.

This particular gated community has been your bread and butter as of late, full of well-to-do families who don’t take vacations, they holiday. It’s a marked difference. They’d pay anything to have their treasured pet pampered in their own home and not stuffed into some grimey kennel with 20 other dogs. The best part is they all talk, so you’ve been able to turn 1 client into 15 in only a month. Cooper was the one that started it all. 

You’re nearing the end of the block, coming up on the grassy park that caps the cul-de-sac when Cooper finds a street sign to relieve himself on. You have one headphone in, so you don’t quite hear the heavy footfalls before you see the men jogging up beside you. 

The blond one is broad and shirtless, he looks like Thor incarnate. His running partner is younger, with curly hair and biceps that strain the sleeves of his t-shirt, which is damp with sweat. Of course, it’s at this time Cooper finds a patch of grass to poop on and you wish you could throw yourself into the picturesque lake to your right as you start unrolling the bags you keep in your pocket. The men smile as they pass though, everyone in this town is polite to a fault. 

______

Three days later you haven’t given them much of a second though. 

Today you have Daisy, whose dainty name would be more fitting on a dog half her size. The dopey husky can hardly control her own body, tail smacking against you as you try to get her harness on before you lead her through the streets which are starting to become familiar. 

Daisy lives 5 doors down from Cooper, and it really is so convenient, allowing you to maximize your profit with minimal travel time. She’s still being leash trained, so you grab a handful of treats and shove them into your pocket and hope that “heel” is something she can be coerced to learn. Today you wind your way past the park, up and down the curving streets, intent on this being a “walk,” not a “pull,” like Daisy seems to prefer. 

You pass your favorite house, stark white with a red door and a blooming rose bush on either corner of a wrap around porch. The porch swing is occupied by a pretty blonde woman holding a small baby. She looks up as Daisy barks and you smile and give an apologetic wave. The woman smiles back and you see the beautiful, blond man from the other day hop out of the truck in the driveway. 

He smiles and waves at you as well before walking up to the porch and kissing his wife and baby, sitting down next to her on the swing. 

It warms you up to your toes to see that this couple isn’t too jaded by the beautiful home they have and the affluent community they live in to enjoy the little things. 

Daisy barks again and you see that she’s making herself at home at the edge of their driveway, and you grimace before grabbing the bags from your back pocket. The couple doesn’t seem to mind and gives you another wave when you pass by, intent on getting Daisy back to her house so you could move onto the next client.

______

On Sunday, your only day off, one of your girls calls in sick, so you throw on some leggings and flip-flops and drive over to walk a fluffy pomeranian named Precious. 

She’s a demon. 

She’s yippy and aggressive from the moment you walk in the door. She can, however, be plied with treats, so you arm yourself with a handful and hope you can tire her out so she’ll be easily swayed back into her crate without too much chaos.

She lives across the street from that white house with the red door you love so much, so at least that’s one plus on Precious’ side. You get to admire the home from close up. Making your way down the walkway trying to control the spawn of dog-satan, you catch a glimpse of a shiny new jeep parked outside. 

The driver looks familiar, he’s handsome… And he’s staring right at you, which is awkward, as you’re pretty much still in pajamas and Precious has not stopped her shrill yapping since she’s been put on her leash. 

“Hey there,” he’s not talking so much to you as he is talking to the ball of fluff dragging you down the walk. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t pet her, she’s a bit cranky this morning,” you tell him while he’s mid-squat. He shoots back up and smiles and you finally recognize him. The curly haired friend who was running with the blond from earlier in the week. He’s more handsome up close and it’s making you a little antsy. 

He laughs and it suits his boyish face, “Fair enough, I’m pretty crabby when I have to wake up early on the weekend too.” You smile and try to pull Precious closer to you, lest she start nipping at his ankles. 

The red front door across the street opens, and that golden couple steps onto the porch. They wave at you and you wave back, smiling tightly, a little uncomfortable trying to pay attention to the beautiful man in front of you and the little fluffy ball of rage between you. 

When he notices you waving, he looks over his shoulder and waves ridiculously back to them as well, a big goofy grin splitting his face, “Is it okay that I park here? I can move if it’s not.” 

“No, no, go ahead. No problem at all,” you smile genuinely this time. He says thank you and holds his hand out, “Tyson, by the way. I’m Gabe’s friend,” he thumbs over his shoulder at who you assume to be Gabe.

Still nodding, you give him your name in return before blurting, “Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around here before,” before you can shut your stupid mouth and he smiles impossibly bigger. 

Gabe, who you have identified as the blond dad from the house across the street helps you save face when he shouts, “Tyson, c’mon we’re going to be late,” as he remote starts his truck from the front door, bouncing his tiny baby on his hip. 

Tyson ducks his head at being called out and smiles one last time before waving and heading to a waiting Gabe, “See you two around.”  

Gabe gives you a big grin as he backs out of his driveway and passes you and Precious, still huffing at your feet at the delay in her walk. You walk her the opposite way they drove off in, not trying to encounter any more broad chests and pretty faces before you’ve had your morning coffee.

______

Friday is a busier day, you have 6 walks back to back in your new area, plenty of families going on a long weekend trip for memorial day weekend. You start your day off with Cooper, followed up by Daisy. They’re getting used to their routes with you and their walks are enjoyable. The next four are with Rocky, Lucy, Maggie, and Duke who are all newer clients. 

You’re up to Lucy when you pass Gabe’s house for the first time. There’s music coming from the yard and a few extra cars line the sidewalk, so you assume he’s hosting a party. If you look for a familiar, shiny jeep who could blame you? 

It isn’t there though. 

You’ve almost forgotten about it by the time you’re walking Duke, a tiny little yorkie who is veritably ancient in dog years. He still has some pep in his step though, and you shuffle through your playlist to find some appropriately happy music for the occasion as you turn a corner. 

With your head down, thumb scrolling skillfully through your favorite Spotify playlist, you jump when you hear the sound of a horn. Duke gives a little bark and you look up to see who the offending party is.

Tyson’s body is half out of his window waving, where his car is parked on the corner across the street.

He hops out and walks over to you, peering at Duke with a little confusion.

“You could probably save yourself some time if you walked all of your dogs together. How many do you have?” He laughs and starts squatting down to Duke’s level while looking up at you for permission to pet. 

“This one’s friendly, you can pet him,” is what you say, because your brain is starting to lose higher functioning the more his shorts creep up his bent legs, revealing the thick, muscular thighs underneath.

Once given permission, Tyson becomes the equivalent of a floppy golden, all sunshine smiles and praise for Duke. “Who’s a good boy?” he coos as he holds Duke’s head in his big hands, simultaneously rubbing under his chin and the top of his head.

He stands up and turns his smile on you, which makes your stomach swoop a little bit, not that you’d admit it. “You should come to Gabe’s house when you’re done walking all of your dogs. He’s having a little party; he said he invited all the neighbors.”

“That sounds nice,” you begin, knowing you shouldn’t and can’t., “but unfortunately I have some more work to do this evening.” 

The smile on Tyson’s face doesn’t falter when he shrugs, “Okay, maybe next time.” He bends down to Duke one last time and uses a higher-pitched sweet voice to say, “See ya, buddy!” before standing up and jogging back over to his idling truck. He hops in and waves before driving back towards Gabe’s house. 

Duke looks up at you, unimpressed, “He’s cute," you sigh. The yorkie just wags his tail and tugs you over to a maple tree to do his business. 

______

It’s a week later when you’re trying to coax Precious down the driveway that you see the pretty blonde walking towards you smiling with a stroller. You know she’s Gabe’s wife, but she’s waving to you in a way that says she wants to talk and you wind the leash around your hand so Precious doesn’t get any ideas. 

“Hi! You’re (y/n) right?” she waits for you to nod and say ‘that’s me’ before continuing, “Oh awesome! I’ve heard so much about you from the neighbors. I’m Mel, I live over there,” she points to the house with the red door that you know to be hers, “We have plans Friday night and we need someone to come and take Zoey out. Would we be able to book you?” 

She looks ecstatic to have run into you so you pull your phone out and check your calendar, “Let’s see, I will actually be in the neighborhood around 7, and I’m free around 7:45, does that work for you?” 

“Ah! That’s perfect. We’re just so excited, because it’s the first time we’ve been out since the baby,” she beams down at the little girl in the stroller, “Mom and dad need a night out, ya know?” She’s smiling so brightly and she’s so sweet, and you don’t know, but you do get it somehow. 

You type her name and address into the calendar on your phone, “I’m sure. You guys totally deserve it, babies are a lot of work!” 

Mel laughs, “I had no idea just how much work! But thank you so much for fitting us in. The sitter will be there with her, so just knock and they’ll let you in and show you around,” her eyes are lit up and you’re actually excited to help her get a free night out with her husband, “I’ll text you and just save my number and we can work out all the details. I just have to get her home to feed before she starts fussing! Thank you again.” 

She’s a whirlwind when she types your number into her phone with fast thumbs, but she has her timing down, because you can hear the baby starting to whine as she crosses the street to her house, right on schedule.

_____

When Friday comes you finish two walks and end up on the porch of the big white house with the rose bushes flanking it. You knock three times and step back to wait for the sitter to let you in. 

Surprisingly enough, Tyson opens the front door. 

He’s smiling, like always, with his right eyebrow raised in confusion, bouncing a giggly baby in his arms. She’s in a pink onesie, covered in what looks like mushy carrots, and Tysons white shirt doesn’t look any better. 

“We weren’t expecting company, were we, princess?” He nuzzles his cheek across the top of the baby’s peach fuzz head and she squishes her eyes shut, babbling happily. 

“I’m not really 'company' perse. I’m just here to walk Zoey,” you rock gently from foot to foot, hoping he’ll let you in and you can get your job done without looking like a total fool. 

"Don't you have enough dogs of your own?" He laughs but steps aside to let you through the front door, the inside of the house is just as nice as the outside. 

"Oh. Those aren't mine," you pull a biscuit out of your pocket and click your tongue, trying to coax Zoey out of her hiding spot under the kitchen table. "I'm just the dog walker." Zoey crawls towards you ok her belly, unsure and skittish. 

"That's a good girl, c'mon mama." Tyson hands you her leash off of the back of a kitchen chair and you can feel his eyes on you as you snap her harness together. 

He nods, bouncing foot to foot, keeping the baby happy, "That makes more sense. I thought you had like, 6 dogs. Gabe told me I was an idiot." You look up and his face flames, luckily the baby chooses that very second to spit up onto the burp cloth slung over his shoulder. 

"Oh no, baby girl," he coos at the infant, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm going to take care of this, don't leave without saying goodbye," he winks and walks through the kitchen, leaving you in a whirlwind, Zoey whining at your feet. 

"Let's go girl."

_____

If you didn't know better, you think, as Zoey noses along the bushes down the block, distinctly uninterested in doing anything at all, you'd think you were being set up. Except you don't really know better.

You think back to the mischievous glint in Mel's eye was she stopped you for your number and Tyson's surprised face when you showed up, apparently unannounced, at the door. 

The more you think about it the more flustered you get, not dressed to woo a potential suitor, and more likely than not, coming back with a bag full of Zoey's poop isn't really the way you prefer to meet men. 

You dig into your pocket for some chapstick and maybe stop in front of a tinted car window in an attempt to curtail your hair into something halfway cute. It's a lost cause. 

Zoey walks listlessly at your side, she's well behaved, but clearly has no business to do, so you head back to Mel and Gabe's house. She looks excited as you make your way up the porch steps and barks at the front door. 

Tyson steps outside and shushes her softly. "Shh girl, please. I just got the baby to sleep." 

"Do you want me to bring her into the back until she calms down enough to go inside?" You wrap the leash around your hand and pat the top of Zoey's head. 

"Nah," he pulls the baby monitor out of his back pocket,  "I was going to sit on the porch for a little anyway, it's nice out. Want some coffee?" 

You say okay and sit on the porch swing waiting for Tyson, not entirely sure how life has led you to this moment on the pretty wrap-around porch of the house with the red door. 

He comes back out and shuts the door quietly behind him before handing you a cup and sitting next to you on the swing. You're quiet for a pause, but then you giggle into your mug. 

"Did you really think all those dogs were mine?" Tyson looks up at you, smiling goofily back over his own mug. 

"Yeah, I totally did. Told Gabe I was going to see if his pretty neighbor needed help walking all of her dogs. Mel finally figured out it was you and they had a good laugh at my expense." His feet are solid on the porch rocking you back and forth while Zoey dozes in front of you. 

Your ears warm at the compliment. "Thanks." 

"I don't have a dog or anything, but maybe I could get your number in case I wanted company for a walk? What's your schedule look like?" You let your leg slide towards his on the swing so your knees knock. 

Smiling and pulling your phone out of your pocket, you hand it over, "I think I could squeeze you in."

[jack-bytez-genuine-corner]

I don't really want to get into it in depth but all of these issues are far deeper than any comment has touched on. While everyone should try to eat more balanced meals, especially in the US, your diet is rarely an individual choice but a societal structure. Food insecurity in the US can leave people without many options to get plant based foods for an affordable price outside of whatever is offered at a gas station freezer section or a fast food drive through. Similarly as more and more Americans work several part and even full time jobs to afford rent their options for balanced / healthy / plant based meals plummet as you have to weigh the added work of cooking and shopping with any potential time for rest. If you've ever worked a night job like I have you know how hard it is to find time to go to a grocery store and stock up followed by cooking a proper "Lunch" vs a 5 minute drive through a McDonald's. While there are services to aid in getting people food and healthy alternatives do exist they are far from ubiquitous and as convenient as getting a Big Mac two blocks from your house literally whenever you want.

Another bit is that the sustainability argument only goes so far. It is more sustainable now largely because greens are gatekept by time investment and overall societal downplay. Unless you're corn or soy your existence will likely be rotting away on a shelf in a store. However if a sufficient amount of people started to actively push for those fruits and veggies over meat it's sustainability will come into question as water - packaging - transit all play a role in getting that food from the farm to your grocery store to your table. If we swap out plastic packaging for eco friendly(er) paper or cardboard the weight of the trucks themselves will spike for lower loads leading to more emissions. This is also not talking about the extra layer of importing food and foods from other regions, this isn't talking about the reality of how farm locations are picked and utilized, nor the extra layer of things like insecticides. It is not as simple as "Individual choice" and it never will be, nor is it as cut and dry as those who profit from the food chain simply want you to eat more meat and eggs and milk. Are we actually getting things to be more sustainable, or are we just trading off methane gases from feed lots for extra water usage in California which is in a drought.

Talking overfishing here for a second, it's not that there isn't a lot of tasty fish we can eat more of, it's that there has been a direct failure to respond to the fact that we're fishing the exact same type of fish to death. Diversifying the fish we eat would in turn lead to less overfishing, the issue is that consumer demand is all for things like tuna and salmon while societal assigned watch dogs sleep at the wheel leading to companies to do what they do best which is to sell the ubiquitous well known item and only that item. Can you blame the consumer for not knowing of the thousands of fish they could potentially eat and enjoy just as much as a salmon? Do you blame companies for ultimately overfishing to avoid educating people on what other fish they can eat? Or do you blame the watch dog organizations who let the overfishing occur and refuse to step in due to the "Idea" of free market capitalism? Because ultimately it comes down to everyone is at fault which also means no one is which isn't a very exciting story nor useful towards making things better. This applies to plants as well with things like bananas and avocados as well as the grass on most people's lawns to the grass in public parks to private golf courses. Most people would agree that we want to live in a more sustainable society, but to put public pressure on societal powers to make that happen is both exceedingly difficult and sometimes not a thing you can adequately do.

Which brings me to my final bit on how your diet isn't really yours: Government subsidies! Everyone's favorite!!! It should be of no shock to anyone that a big part of the reason for corn's push into every type of food, including feed for cattle, is in no small part due to high government subsidies to farmers who grow corn. Decades later from a handful of people ultimately deciding that corn is the miracle plant it's hard not to find a product touched by it. Sauces, soda, bread, juice, the entire MackyD's menu, fruit preserves, jam, crackers, fucking applesauce even. No matter where you turn a decades old decision to plop corn on top of all else is still reverberating through society to this day despite the health effects of things like corn syrup being known. If you want to avoid corn syrup, a problematic part of America's diet, you'll need to put in serious work and effort to do so, but that also means competing with nutritional labels, purposefully confusing and deceptive marketing, alongside a final batch of convenience and temptation because the corn option will likely be cheaper due to those exact subsidies. Is it *actually* a personal choice for people to eat corn in basically everything you can buy when it is often the only thing you *can* buy? Is it truly the customers fault for buying corn when the businesses are quite literally having their costs lowered by the government that wants more people to eat more corn?

In essence, it's pretty clear that the push to claim that your diet is personal choice is pretty deceptive. I also find the talk of ethics when it comes to animals in the food process tends to fall on deaf ears because, again, what other choice do you really have? Fake meats as a random example are pricier than real meat of the same weight so to actively go with the (Mostly) cruelty free option could be the difference between a meal every day of the week to a meal for only 3 days. I personally really don't like eating meat every day and try hard to diversify what I eat, but I'm in a privileged position in my life right now where that's actually feasible where as many others are not. A slab of meat and a potato go a long way in comparison to many greens, and similarly the idea of sustainable food is not a thing that can be talked about even in passing while gleefully ignoring that the biggest polluters aren't even in JUST food. Private jets could be heavily regulated if not banned outright and it would do a ton for the environment, a death of luxury cruise liners would hurt some vulnerable populations but would also cut down on a lot of pollution. In food production forcing an end to the reign of corn, even if it's just in cattle feed, would also do a lot towards lowering the green house emissions of cattle. If you give a damn about the environment, the first thing you need to recognize is that personal choice does nothing when a single person can actively pollute more than a town of people in a day with a single private jet flight, it does nothing if you choose to stop eating meat cause you're in a position where that's feasible while not forcibly pushing your reps to right the many wrongs of the government - food producer relationship.

There's some cartoon villain CEO's out there, but I can nigh guarantee you that if we didn't subsidize corn like it's Free Market Jesus of Nazareth they'd be doing backflips away from corn faster then you can whisper the C word. They aren't sitting around a board room thinking about how they can Pavlov condition people into eating cow, they're thinking about how they can maximize profits and force the line to keep going up without having to do anything, and right now that means cattle, that means children working in butchers, that means extreme inbreeding of chicken cause it's a way to make sure nothing in the chain actually changes while profits get maximized. If you want to see cartoon villain level CEO and executive level tomfuckery in the food industry you should look at what happened to pork and bacon, where an extremely successful marketing campaign got a health conscious US onto a decade long obsession with bacon which killed off interest in other parts of the pig, notably healthier parts of the pig. I would also recommend reading up on how corn took off in the US but I've written enough on this for a life time.

Here's my final question: Is it consumer choice to eat so much corn, to eat so much meat, to eat so much bacon, or is it a corporation decision because they're the ones who are spending millions and billions to market this brand new "Alternative", or is it the government who pays the corporations to chase the a anointed miracle, or is it all an ouroboros of never ending fault?

period

[luvlyrv]

No More Secrets | Joy x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Request: Can I please request where the reader is a single parent who is also dating sooyoung. Sooyoung doesn’t know that the reader has a kid, since reader has been hiding them because she felt like sooyoung would shame her or wouldn’t want to date her anymore. Sooyoung accidentally see’s the readers kid and instead of being angry, she just wants to be part of the family. Thank youu!

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: First request I've ever done! Thank you for sending this in, I hope it's what you wanted. Also hhh you'll probably notice but I decided to keep the child vague? Maybe you have a dream baby that you wanna parent idk, so I don't have a name or gender for them, hope you don't mind.

Date: 1/23/21

Over the past few years you've thrown yourself into your work. It was hard trying to provide for the needs of both you and your child at the same time, both in the physical and emotional sense. Whether or not you would be able to pay the bills was always a worry, and as you continued increasing your time at work you began to fret about if you were there for your kid at the same time.

The biggest struggle overall was toiling through those worries by yourself. As much as you tried to distract and provide for your family by working more and more overtime shifts, you couldn't ignore the growing emptiness in your heart and bed any further. Sure, you could reach out to friends and family to ask for help and be your support group, but they could never be what you desired right now. Right now you wished that someone was there holding you. That someone told you things would be okay and could love you in a romantic sense. Someone to completely swipe you off your feet and make your worries melt away.

Unfortunately it's been proven to you over and over again that it's hard to find a date. Very few people were your type, and from those people you weren't their type for the most part. Even if you matched you found yourself so busy working and taking care of your child that you were on a tight schedule, and your matches just never seemed to want to work with someone inflexible.

One day though, it felt like an absolute miracle when you got a match. A woman named Park Sooyoung had appeared on your feed. You read through her short biography, learning how she loves to sing and is an aspiring model and dog mom. Staring at her pictures you felt like she was out of your league. You couldn't tell what was worse, swiping no and missing out on a possible opportunity or swiping yes when you knew she was 100% out of your league and would likely reject you instantly.

It was a welcome surprise when you finally swiped yes, only to see a match screen pop up instantly on your phone. Soon after that the both of you began talking to each other. Your thumbs nervously tapping away at your phone as the both of you said your hellos and started giving more detailed introductions. The tightness in your chest eased up as every text sent by Sooyoung was charming you, all of them being disarming and funny to you.

Within the next couple of days you felt like you were glued to your phone. Without meaning to your hands would find its way cross the table or to your pocket just to pull out your phone and look for notifications from Sooyoung. Luckily for you it always felt like her name was on your screen with her patiently waiting for a text back.

Soon enough she asked for a coffee date. You obliged to her offer but told her your schedule, already profusely apologizing as you expected it to be difficult for her to work with. Sooyoung just said not to worry about it and set out a date that would be convenient for the both of you.

Every day after that was spent living in anticipation. You wondered about the sound of her voice and if things would be as easy and comfortable in real life as it was over text. As you dropped off your child at your friend's place to be watched over the evening your heart swelled even more. You really were going to meet Sooyoung.

*

*

You enter the coffee shop nervously, your eyes scanning the entire shop trying to look for a familiar face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a tall figure gracefully sitting in a booth. Focusing on her face, she looked exactly like the woman you matched with. A smile fell on your face as you thanked the heavens that at least you weren't catfished. You make your way over to her booth and speak out.

"Hey, Sooyoung?" The woman looks up and smiles instantly looking at you.

"Hey! Really good to meet you, Y/N."

"Sorry, did I keep you waiting? How about I treat you coffee?" Sooyoung just shook her head at your offer.

"No no, I'll do the treating this time. Maybe on our next date?" She suggested casually. The smile on your face grew a little bit wider at the idea of a second date. The two of you go up to the counter and make your orders. When they were complete you both went back to your booth and sat down to talk.

The two of you casually talked while sipping away at your drinks. You were really happy, because you couldn't remember the last time your heart fluttered this much. You were thankful that spending time with your date felt so natural and comfortable. Hopefully Sooyoung would be thinking the same thing too.

*

*

It wasn't supposed to go like this. You were hoping that maybe by the second or third date you could bring up the fact that you're a mother. Every single date though you'd push back that conversation more. The two of you would be having so much fun together you didn't want to turn the atmosphere serious so suddenly. Either that or your anxieties and fears made their way back into your heart.

Yet here you were, already on your fifth date with Sooyoung's presence in your life becoming more and more familiar. The guilt of not telling her was silently eating away at you. Despite that, your fears still held your tongue.

After all, meeting someone like Sooyoung felt like a one in a million chance for you. If she broke it off with you now, you'd feel devastated from the loss. Not only that, but as much as you liked Sooyoung you weren't sure if your child was reader for an unfamiliar adult figure to enter their life. What if Sooyoung was secretly dangerous? You could be putting your child in harms way.

So as much as it hurt you to feel like you were breaking Sooyoung's trust, you had to protect your family first. For now, you'll just continue trying to gauge how good Sooyoung is with children and hope she isn't offended by how long it's taking you to tell her such pertinent information. You sigh while looking at the food sitting in front of you.

"Are you not hungry after all?" Sooyoung asks. You look up with a bit of a surprised face, just being snapped out of your train of thought.

"Oh sorry, I was just thinking." You smile a bit, trying to ease any of Sooyoung's possible worries. You start to take some small bites of your dinner. Sooyoung just quirks her eyebrows a bit at the sight. She wondered what could possibly be thinking about. Things were awkward for a little bit after that, but the rest of dinner went smoothly. The small amount of tension dissipated and the two of you were able to converse and share laughs as the night went on.

When dinner was finished Sooyoung offered to take you home. Although you were a bit worried at first, you decided to take her offer. You enjoyed the car ride as you watched the dark night sky pass by while continuing to chat idly with Sooyoung. She drops you off without a hitch as you thank her.

*

*

It's now been a couple months since you've first met Sooyoung, and you're life has been better ever since. Although trying to manage the many different parts of your life all at once and by yourself was hard, you knew that Sooyoung would always be there to listen to your worries. Or at least the worries you could talk about without talking about your family.

You were sitting on the couch with your child on your lap, snuggling into you. You couldn't help but to be filled with warmth as you saw how happy and excited they looked while watching the movie on TV. For the past couple of weeks they were begging to watch the movie with you, so finally you had set the time to have a movie night with them. On the table were snacks scattered across it as well as your phone. You noticed your phone light up from a notification. You leaned over just a little bit to reach it and check.

i missed you! i have some takeout and im coming over~

It was a text from Sooyoung. You stared at your phone in shock. Your mind was torn. On one hand you loved the spontaneity of it all and the seemingly romantic gesture. On another hand you hated the spontaneity of it all and worried about Sooyoung finally entering your house only to see that you've been taking care of a kid the entire time. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise though.

You decided to suck it up and meet your fate tonight. You'd welcome Sooyoung to your home and see how things go from there.

alright, see you soon!

You let out the breath you were holding in as you squeeze your eyes in frustration. Your child looked up at you with a worrying look.

"Is something wrong, mommy?" They ask innocently. You shake your head and try to give a reassuring smile. You squeeze their arm a bit.

"Nothing is wrong, someone is going to come over later though so don't be scared from the doorbell." You answer. Your child just nods their head and looks back at the TV, eating some of the popcorn you had made earlier.

Around twenty minutes pass before you finally hear the ringing of your door bell. You gently pick your child off of your lap and onto the couch as you get up to answer. You took in a few deep breathes to try and ready yourself. While reaching out to unlock and turn the doorknob, you realize your hand was shaking despite your efforts.

You open the door and try to give Sooyoung a smile, but you reckon that your worry was obvious as her face quickly had a concerned look.

"Hey Y/N!" Sooyoung says with a smile, with it fading a little as her eyebrows became upturned. "Uhm, are you not happy to see me…?" You become apologetic as you frantically responded.

"Of course I'm happy to see you! It's just that… uhm." You open the door a bit further for Sooyoung and allow her to enter the house. You look at your kid sitting on the couch now staring at Sooyoung rather than watching the movie.

"K/N, this is Sooyoung! A friend of mommy's." You bite your lip after introducing her. You felt bad as it you felt like you were dumping news onto both your date and your own child. You watch as Sooyoung went over to your table and put the takeout down. Things were silent except for the pounding in your chest. You prepared your mind and heart for the worst, expecting Sooyoung to politely say goodbye and leave.

Then, Sooyoung put on a grand smile and excited sat down next to your kid.

"I'm so excited to meet you! Is it okay if I watch this movie with you?" Sooyoung asks, but instead of answering the question your child decided to blurt out their thoughts instead.

"You're really really really pretty." They said with a face mixed with surprise and admiration. Sooyoung gives out a laugh, finding the bluntness of your child hilarious and adorable.

The feeling in your chest began to ease up as you watched the sight. You were both surprised and happy with the way things were looking, but you'd definitely have to have a conversation with Sooyoung afterwards. For now though, it seemed like the three of you could eat take out and enjoy some snacks while watching the rest of a kid's movie.

The movie eventually came to an end though. Your child was yawning and complaining about being tired so you made them go brush their teeth. After they were done you picked them up and gently laid them in bed, kissing their forehead and saying goodnight. When you closed the door to their room, you went back to the living room where Sooyoung was patiently sitting.

"I guess we have some things we should talk about, right?" You gave a little fake laugh after asking the rhetorical question. You walked towards the couch and sat down a couple feet away from Sooyoung.

"So…" She began talking, at first looking at the floor but then into your eyes. Her eyes seemed to be filled with hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered. Already you were feeling horrible. You reached your hand out to clasp hers and she let you.

"I'm so sorry. I really am Sooyoung. I was just worried about whether or not you would like kids, let alone start being a part of one's life. I just… I needed more time to gauge that. I was really meaning to tell you though, I promise." You tried to explain to her. Sooyoung leaned forward to you and hugged you.

"Hey hey, don't worry. I absolutely adore K/N already." She backed out of the hug but was still close to you. She tucked away a stray hair as she continued talking with you. "I'll take care of the both of you, okay? I want to do that for you both." She gives you a reassuring smile. You lean in and give her a quick kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry. No more secrets from me." You say, happy that it now felt like nothing was in between you and your relationship with Sooyoung anymore.

[bluenet13]

Heroes Tonight

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 911: Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Prompt: Taking the Bullet

Summary: Life is but a series of split-second decisions, and when you were born a hero, any one of them can end it all in the blink of an eye. Especially when your boyfriend is about to be shot and you don't think, just leap. Or, Carlos and T.K. should have been safe. It was only their day off. But when a convenience store robbery walks in on them, they end up in even more trouble than if they had been on shift.

Links: ff.net - AO3

"This was a really good idea," T.K. says softly, before taking another bite of his cherry ice cream, "thanks for insisting we do something special."

Carlos smiles, and squeezes the fingers that are intertwined in his. "I'm all about staying in bed all day on a day off, especially if it's with you. But every once in a while I like to go out and show the world that the prettiest boy in Texas is all mine."

"You're a dork," T.K. says, a teasing smile on his face, which quickly turns into a fake pout. "But… only in Texas? And what about the other days?"

Carlos sets his mango sorbet down and captures T.K's mouth in his, anything else that T.K. wanted to say dying on his lips, as he parts them in an invitation and deepens the kiss. Carlos' hands now on either side of his boyfriend's face, as T.K's moves his to Carlos' back and draws him close.

When they both need some air, they break the kiss and smile at each other shily. Carlos then grabs his phone and takes a selfie of the two, doing quick work of posting it to his Instagram. "There you go, now the whole world knows... Maybe we can get Marjan to reblog it so even more people know," Carlos lets out with a breathy laugh, then snickers when T.K. playfully smacks his arm. "As for other days... on those I like to show that boy how happy I'm that he chose me." Carlos again continues right from where T.K. left off, his smile only faltering for a second as he remembers a time when a failed past relationship made T.K. choose fear over him.

"I love you," T.K. breathes out, "and if you let me, I'll gladly spend the rest of my life showing you how I choose you over and over again."

"Rest of our lives," Carlos echoes wishfully, "I like the sound of that."

Carlos and T.K. share another kiss, before T.K. interrupts the moment with a chuckle. "I think the rest of our lives is going to be cut frustratingly short if we don't get out of here and to the Ryder household soon."

Seeing the time, Carlos blanches. Quickly finishing the last of his ice cream cone in one swallow, then grabbing T.K's hand and pulling them both towards the parking lot.

Carlos and T.K. had already agreed to meet the team for another 126 hangs before Carlos convinced T.K. to take advantage of the first day of summer landing on their day off to go on an adventure. So they had spent their Saturday on Zilker Park, then playing a round at Peter Pan Mini-Golf, which Carlos had insisted was a real Austin attraction and mini-golf tradition that T.K. needed to experience. Then stopping at The Range after much insistence from T.K. for Carlos to teach him how to shoot. Argument which had been going on for weeks and which Carlos had instantly metaphorically shot down as soon as T.K. tried to argue that it wasn't just for fun, since they never knew when he would be taken hostage again, and learning how to shoot could help him defend himself. At that, Carlos had mumbled that making the switch to paramedic was supposed to be safer, then told T.K. there was no way he would let him handle a gun, as he already was a trouble magnet without adding firearms into the mix. But T.K. was nothing if not stubborn, so today he had sweetly offered to drive when they left the park, and next thing Carlos knew, they were already parked in front of The Range, T.K. smiling up hopefully at him. Never able to deny his man anything, Carlos had begrudgingly agreed. And so they had spent their next two hours in the shooting range, before ending their magical day at the ice cream parlor.

That's how now Carlos and T.K. were very late. Which wouldn't be a problem if not because they were already in hot water after being no-shows at the last three team gatherings. This time, Marjan had said in no uncertain terms that they were both expected to be there or they would be forced to take a time-out every third shift. Well, that idea had come from Mateo, always the sentimental wanting to keep the band together and preserve the status quo, but Marjan and Paul had easily agreed, much to both Carlos and T.K's displeasure. Judd hadn't particularly cared either way, saying his only job was getting the house ready for the team.

-x-x-x-

"I'll be back in a sec," Carlos says, as T.K. parks the car in front of a convenience store a few blocks from Judd and Grace's house.

"I can go with you," T.K. offers, already turning the key and opening his door.

"Sure?" Carlos inquires softly, "I don't mind if you'd better just wait here."

T.K. shakes his head, shooting Carlos a confident smirk. "I'll just get some snacks while you check the fridge."

Nodding, Carlos gives T.K's hand a quick squeeze before following him out of the car. As much as Carlos always wants to protect T.K, he makes a point to remember that living normally while in proximity to alcohol is a natural part of his boyfriend's recovery.

Intertwining their fingers together, Carlos and T.K. then walk into the store, completely oblivious to the two men arguing next to their car, three spots away from theirs.

Parting in different directions, Carlos goes to pick some beer, while T.K. tries to decide which potato chips brand is better, then meeting back in the center aisle and walking together towards the front. "Wait, I forget Mateo wanted some Takis," T.K. says, cringing, then runs back to the snacks aisle.

As soon as he meets Carlos again in the center aisle, T.K. sees the six-packs discarded to the side, and turning to his boyfriend, he easily recognizes the no-nonsense posture and fiery eyes that Carlos keeps reserved for when he's on shift. But before he has a chance to ask what happened, Carlos moves his finger to his lips in the universal sign for please stay quiet and don't get us into any trouble, and grabs his hand, forcing them both to kneel, as he begins to take quiet steps back.

That's when the voices coming from the front start to filter into T.K's mind, eyes going wide as he realizes what's going on. "...quietly open the register and no one will get hurt. Speak or call for help and you won't live to say another word." A man is threatening in a hushed voice. Then there's silence, and Carlos and T.K. can only assume that whoever is tending the register is complying with the robber's demands.

When Carlos feels that they have backed away enough, he drops T.K's hand after giving it a final squeeze and reaches for the phone in his back pocket.

"We have to do something," T.K. whispers, a broom in one hand, and shovel in the other, his face scrunching as he silently tests which would make a better weapon. Because, of course, and much to Carlos' dismay, he had walked them to a mix aisle containing household, yard and other miscellaneous items.

"We're not doing anything," Carlos warns, "and drop those things!" He exhales long and slow, his hand clawing through his hair as he tries to take control of the situation. "I already messaged my boss, someone should be here any moment now."

"It will be too late, we can't let them get away," T.K. argues, "come on, you're a cop, you can't tell me you're okay with this."

Releasing a pained exhale, Carlos closes his eyes for a second. "Of course I'm not okay with this! But I'm a cop because I know what to do in these situations," he chides, "and I'm not okay with my hothead boyfriend getting hurt either. So, you're staying right where you are," he finished in a low, threatening tone.

T.K. nods and stays put, even if the fighter inside is shouting at him to do anything but that. But with Carlos here, he can't do something stupid and risk his boyfriend's life.

Those thoughts however come to mean nothing as soon as the bell above the door rattles loudly and a mother and her daughter come in, both stumbling and crying out loud as soon as a gun is pointed in their direction.

"Oh, crap," Carlos mutters, turning quickly to T.K. with a pleading look on his eyes. "Please," Carlos tries but T.K. is already crawling forward to get a better look. "T.K!" Carlos hisses but he's too late, and is forced to follow instead.

"You two, come here," the robber directs, grabbing the lady by the arm, pulling her along with the girl, who's holding on to her mother's skirt. "Just stay here, and don't try to interfere," he says, pushing them both down towards the floor, behind a hot bar full of hot dogs, taquitos and pizza slices.

With that done, the man moves back to the register and continues pulling out bills and dropping them onto a bag his partner is holding open. "Come on, man. That's more than enough. Let's go before someone else decides to crash this party." The second robber pleads, speaking for the first time. His eyes looking nervous as he moves them from the register to the front door and back again.

And as if summoned, the bell rings again, and a couple of teenagers step into the store. "Mierda!" One swears loudly as his eyes move between the two men, the cash register, and the terrified store clerk whose back is as far as it would go into the wall, his hands raised and slightly shaking.

"Marcos, vamonos," the older teenager says as he grabs his companion's hand and tries to walk back outside.

"You're not going anywhere," the first robber declares, his gun already being pointed towards the two boys, "we don't need no one calling the cops."

"We won't, we won't. Please, just let us go. My brother and I won't say anything. I promise," the teenager begs in a heavily accented voice. Then out of nowhere, he opens the door and pushes his younger brother out of the store. At the same time a shot rings out and the boy collapses in a pool of crimson.

Back in the rear of the store, the shot seems to set something loose in T.K's mind, because not two seconds later, he's turning to Carlos with an apology in his eyes. I'm sorry, T.K. mouths, then gives Carlos' hand a final squeeze, before he drops it and begins crawling towards the front of the store.

-x-x-x-

Getting to his feet, T.K. raises his hands just as the two robbers notice him for the first time. A lump making its way up his throat as he stares down the barrel of a gun. "I'm a paramedic, I can help. Let me..." he begins to say, but his words are cut short as the gun is pressed directly to his temple.

"And where did you come from," the man asks, "is there anyone else here?"

"No, I was alone, hiding in the back," T.K. explains, releasing a relieved breath as both he and the man with the gun scan the area where he came from but come out empty. "Please, let me help him. He's going to bleed out," T.K. tries again, pointing with his chin towards the teenager.

"Go! But I don't want any more surprises or I'll shoot you both," the man angrily concedes.

"I need a first aid kit," T.K. says. "Please," he adds as an afterthought, because he's open to being polite to the man threatening him with a gun, if it can potentially stop him from getting shot, again.

After getting a nod from the man, the store clerk lowers his hands for the first time, reaching down towards the counter and grabbing a small red bag that he throws to T.K, before raising his hands again just as quickly.

Catching the bag, T.K. wastes no time. Just barely acknowledging the robbers with a clipped thank you, before rushing to the boy and kneeling next to him. By now the boy is unconscious, his wound bleeding freely. Not ideal, but T.K. honestly thinks it's a small mercy as he roughly pushes gauze into the opening. After the wound is packed, T.K. curses to himself when he sees there's no chest seal or sterile medical plastic on the kit. Reaching for his wallet, he instead grabs his credit card, and carefully places it over the hole, then uses some medical tape to hold it in place, doing his best to form an airtight seal on the wound to keep air from being sucked into the wound and preventing the lung from collapsing, while also making sure to leave a small opening to let out air.

With that done, T.K. turns back to the robbers, wondering why the hell they're still here and where the damn cops are, when the boy starts to stir, mumbling in pain. Wishing he could switch places with Carlos, T.K. tries his best to keep him calm, whispering whatever comforting word he can think of in Spanish and promising that his brother is safe. Absentmindedly, T.K. also wonders where Carlos is cause he hasn't heard a single sound coming from the back.

Turning to the rear of the store, T.K. tries to find any sign of his boyfriend, but instead he notices the reflection of blue and red lights bouncing off a potato chips display. Keeping any expression from his eyes and his breathing even and calm, T.K. turns to the door, trying to understand what's happening outside.

Seeing cops beginning to get close, weapons and shields at the ready, T.K. carefully starts to pull the boy towards the first aisle and away from the front of the door so he doesn't get trampled down.

"What are you doing?" One of the men asks, as he and his partner begin to walk towards the door, eyes going wide as they see what T.K. just saw. "Did you call the cops? Or maybe it was that damn brother of yours," he all but shouts, gun going up as his finger tightens on the trigger.

Not knowing what else to do, T.K. raises to his feet and stands protectively in front of the boy, his lips parting as he tries to form words, but before he settles on anything in particular, a voice booms from outside, no doubt amplified by a megaphone.

As a man, who T.K. assumes is commander of S.W.A.T, or whoever came to negotiate their release, asks the men to turn themselves in before anyone gets hurt, the one who's clearly the leader swears loudly, as he begins to take steps back. Then when he feels far away enough from danger, he begins to pace, his gun moving widely along with his thoughts and words.

A telephone ringing is the only thing that stops the pacing, as the man angrily grabs it and starts shouting demands. Not smart, T.K. knows but what can he expect from two guys that took like 20 minutes to rob a convenience store. Not able to hear the other end of the call, T.K. just sighs as the robber asks for a car with a full tank, and for the cops to leave so they can drive away, threatening to shoot everyone if his demands are not met, before he throws the phone into a wall, the device breaking on impact.

Knowing there's no way out now, the firefighter turned paramedic tries to add his two cents in an attempt to get everyone safely out of this situation. "Come on, man. Think this through. The cops are already here, they won't just let you go. Turn yourselves in and I can say this was just a big misunderstanding." T.K. has no idea how he would do that, but he can only hope the men are dumb enough to believe his empty promise.

"But we shot someone," the second man whispers, voice shaking. "There's nothing you can say that would justify that."

What a surprise, the one not in charge is actually the smart one, T.K. thinks and chuckles inwardly. "That's okay. He just came in too quickly and scared you guys. We can explain that to the cops," T.K. tries his best to sound convincing.

Seeing the leader drop the gun to his side, T.K. has a second to think that his words must be sinking in and they will turn themselves in. But there's a reason why he's a firefighter and paramedic, and not a cop. Because next he knows he hears someone shout his name, just as the gun is lifted again and a single shot resonates all around him. Everything happening before he even saw it coming.

T.K. waits for the remembered pain, but it never comes. Instead his mind barely recognizes the voice of his boyfriend as the one who screamed his name, just as the man in question lands on the floor in front of him. Blood already beginning to pool under him.

As soon as T.K's mind comprehends that Carlos just jumped in front of a bullet for him, he tries to run to his side, but the robber is now standing in front of him and as soon as T.K. moves he swings the gun hard against his temple. Stunned, T.K. stumbles backward as tears cloud his vision, and he can only wonder if they're because of the hit or due to the fact his boyfriend just got shot.

Feeling like he has nothing left to lose now, and throwing what's left of his self-preservation out the window, T.K. launches himself forward, tackling the man. Both paramedic and bad guy land hard on the floor and instantly begin to struggle against each other as they fight for control of the one weapon. The robber manages to land the first hit, punching T.K. on the face, but he just shakes his head and swings, connecting with the man's nose and feeling it break on impact. Taking advantage of his bit of good fortune stunning his assailant, T.K. takes hold of the gun and raises to hit feet, backing away from the offender on the ground.

Trying to remember everything Carlos taught him earlier today, T.K. sets his feet down and squares his shoulders as he points the gun at the man who just shot his boyfriend. But before he can cock the gun or even really think about pressing the trigger, T.K. instead disassembles the weapon and throws it to the ground. Not only because his oath says that he's supposed to save people, not be judge and executioner, but because T.K. knows Carlos would never want him to hurt someone on his behalf.

Fight over with and save for the time being, T.K. stands paralyzed as he stares down at Carlos, bleeding out on a dirty store floor in front of him, after being shot with a bullet meant for him.

-x-x-x-

As T.K. took care of the injured teenager, Carlos had stayed hidden in the back. Grateful that his boyfriend was just working quietly and not doing anything special to put himself in even greater danger.

Keeping an eye out on T.K. and the robbers, Carlos had text his boss as the men continued to wipe the cash register clean, moving then to the mother's purse. He had done his best to keep calm as he shared with his boss the internal layout of the store, and information on the number of people inside and where everyone was located. But when the commander of S.W.A.T had started making demands, which were only followed by the leader of the pair making even more demands over the phone, Carlos realized he had seen many stories like this before. And rarely, did any of them end peacefully.

Knowing the men wouldn't voluntarily give themselves up, and not wanting his worst fears to come true, Carlos had begun to crawl forward. Luckily T.K. had been focused on the man with the gun and the injured boy, and the man with the gun on T.K. and the cops, so no one had noticed Carlos getting closer.

When T.K. had started trying to plead with the men to turn themselves in, Carlos had the sudden urge to kill his boyfriend himself. But then T.K. seemed to be gaining ground so he allowed himself a brief smile. Before his cop training kicked in and Carlos recognized the man was not accepting defeat, but preparing to go out in a blaze of glory.

And suddenly Carlos knows what is about to happen. And what he has to do.

"T.K!" Carlos shouts, at the same time as he closes his eyes and leaps.

The pain is instantaneous as Carlos collapses to the floor. Darkness already nudging at the edges of his vision.

With all his energy being used on just being able to take one breath after the other, Carlos barely notices the robber walking towards T.K. before the man is raising his gun and Carlos stops breathing altogether when he thinks he's about to shoot at T.K. again and this time he can't do anything to protect him. But the man just pistol whips T.K, forcing Carlos to release a nervous exhale. Because another hit to the head is not ideal, but definitely better than the alternative.

But then Carlos gets another urge to shoot T.K. himself, because his boyfriend launches himself against the robber and they begin to struggle on the ground. And before Carlos can even try to get up and help, T.K. is standing and pointing the gun at the man, making Carlos curse silently because why did he teach him how to shoot. But T.K. being T.K. never disappoints him, and does what Carlos himself would have done, then seems to lose the remaining of his energy and just stumbles and stares at Carlos with teary, guilt-ridden eyes.

Just then the doors to the store burst open and the scene around them turns to full-blown chaos as cops and paramedics rush inside. Doing his best to ignore everything going around him, Carlos focuses solely on T.K, because he can feel a lot of blood pooling below him and if he's about to die he wants his boyfriend to be the last sight he sees. So, doing his best to clear his eyes, Carlos shakes his head and looks up, smiling at T.K. who just dropped to his knees beside him.

Carlos parts his lips to try to say something to his boyfriend, but he's not listening. "No, no, no," T.K is saying over and over again, his already blood stained hands going to Carlos' chest as he tries to stop the flow of the blood which has already soaked his shirt.

Talking off his flannel, T.K. pushes it into the wound on Carlo's chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but I need to stop the bleeding," T.K. soothes when Carlos grunts and tries to move away. "Damn it! Why is this blood not stopping?" Discarding the saturated shirt to the side, T.K. uses his own hands again, blood seeping through his fingers.

"T.K, it's okay," Carlos tries to say, but stops as he coughs and chokes on a mouthful of blood. "Please stop and look at me," Carlos whispers as T.K. continues trying to stop the bleeding, so he weakly raises a hand and catches T.K's, intertwining their fingers together. "Whatever happens, everything... everything will be okay," Carlos promises, even as more blood trickles down his mouth, "you'll be okay. I love you, T.K."

"No, no, no!" T.K. continues his chant, tears sliding down his face as he desperately shakes his head. "Please, Carlos…"

"I'm sorry," Carlos says with a pained gasp, weakly reaching out with one hand and running it through T.K's hair, stopping on the bruise already beginning on his temple and stroking softly. By now he can hear muffled voices around him but can't make out any words and he knows that he's fading. Then he sees T.K's lips moving and desperately tries to read the meaning behind his words, but his eyes are closing and he's just so tired. When his lids finally close, Carlos can see unshed tears pressing against them, but instead he chooses to focus on the last image he saw. That of two cops grabbing T.K. by the arms and pulling him from Carlos, his boyfriend's teary eyes pleading, as T.K. begged him to hang on and open his eyes.

-x-x-x-

The door opening behind him and a multitude of emergency personnel rushing inside, springs T.K. back into action.

Forgetting all about the boy whose life he just saved, and ignoring the cops and paramedics around him, T.K's only focus is the man bleeding in front of him. He drops to his knees, doing his best to ignore Carlos' attempts to talk, because it sounds suspiciously like his boyfriend wants to say goodbye and he's not ready for that, instead he concentrates on using his shirt, then his hands, as he tries to stop the bleeding. As Carlos grunts, T.K. does his best to push his guilt down, hating that he's hurting him but willing to do whatever is necessary to save his life.

As Carlos continues trying to call his attention, T.K. can only continue his chant and work because if he stops to listen he knows he will break down, and that is not going to help Carlos. But then his boyfriend grabs his hand and squeezes weakly, and T.K. crumbles. Because Carlos' tear-streaked face is looking directly at him, and there's blood on his lips, and he is obviously dying.

But Carlos can't die so T.K. shakes his head and continues to chant, "no, no, no!" His words, a plea for anyone willing to listen. Then he pleads to the man himself but T.K. can see Carlos' eyes are beginning to close and then he's apologizing. Carlos' hand softly caressing his boyfriend's hair, because even when he is bleeding out, Carlos is still more worried about T.K.

As Carlos goes silent, T.K realizes someone else is talking to him, and there are also people kneeling to his side, and someone is grabbing his arm from behind, but he does his best to ignore it all. "I love you, too," he whispers instead, because he didn't say it back and if this is Carlos' last moment, then T.K. needs to make sure he knows. But he doesn't think Carlos understands because he scrunches his face in confusion before his eyes finally slip shut. "Carlos, please, you can't do this to me, to us… please fight… Please, open your eyes." T.K chokes on his own sobs, and then he's being pulled away from Carlos, two sets of hands grabbing him from behind.

"Son, please. Let the paramedics work. And they need to check you out too," a cop, who is not Carlos, but might be his boss, T.K. can't really remember, is saying to him. "That's a lot of blood."

With that comment, T.K. looks down at himself, his stomach threatening to revolt at the sight, but he pushes it down and shakes his head. "It's not mine," he mumbles, pushing away from everyone. He stumbles backwards, almost collapsing, but steadies himself on the same potato chips' display that first alerted him to the cops' presence. If only he hadn't seen them and tried to play hero.

Feeling his anger and guilt begin to overpower him, T.K. uses the last of his strength and swings his arm hard against the display. The sudden movement makes him feel lightheaded, and for the first time, T.K. notices the nausea and headache. Blinking his eyes a few times, he lifts his hand and touches his temple and winces, then frowns when he sees his fingers covered in wet blood. But he focuses on the dried crimson staining his fingers, and suddenly T.K. is stumbling to the back of the store where he remembers seeing a bathroom and standing in front of a run-down sink as he roughly rubs his hands, trying to get the blood, Carlos' blood, out of his skin.

After his hands are as clean as they will be with just water, T.K. stares at himself in the mirror, absentmindedly wondering if the cop had been talking about the blood on his clothes, which is undoubtedly the boy's and Carlos', or about the one that he now sees flowing down the side of his face. Not particularly caring about the answer, T.K. feels the need to strip off his clothes because he just can't keep seeing all this blood that should be inside Carlos' body. But shaking his head, he just sighs and exits the bathroom instead.

As soon as he's back in the front of the store, T.K's stomach drops as he notices the amount of blood on the ground, then the absence of one of the men whose it belonged to, but before he can ask, he sees the stretcher being pushed into a waiting ambulance. T.K. tries to run outside to follow, but with his adrenaline fading, and all his discomforts finally making themselves known, he just swings wildly as his vision dims and he feels arms pulling him down into a stretcher.

"No," T.K whispers, struggling to get up. "I'm going with him. You can treat me in the ambulance... or I can wait until we get to the hospital. Just save Carlos, please," he begs, voice breaking at the end.

The paramedics prepare to argue, but a voice T.K. only heard once but still would recognize anywhere, speaks next to them. "Let him go." Steadying himself on the stretcher, T.K. turns to find Gabriel Reyes staring back at him. "Let him ride with his boyfriend."

"Thank you, sir," T.K. says, then wastes no time and climbs into the ambulance, sitting on a bench next to the stretcher and instantly taking one of Carlos' hands in his.

"Just take good care of my son. I will be by the hospital as soon as we're done here." And by done here, T.K. knows Mr. Reyes means making sure everyone remotely at fault for what happened to his son is sitting in a cell, without any possibility of parole. So he just nods, before the double doors of the ambulance are closed, cutting any further conversation short.

And whatever happens next at the convenience store is lost to both T.K. and Carlos as their magical day ends with another trip to Dell Seton Medical Center.

-x-x-x-

Opening his eyes, Carlos' first conscious thought is asking himself why everything hurts. He then tries to move his hand to rub his tired eyes, but finds an IV there and decides to leave it alone. Trying to move his other hand, Carlos sees no IV or tubing, but his hand still feels glued to the bed, so he turns his eyes downward and sees another hand attached to his, their fingers intertwined together. Following it to its owner, Carlos sees T.K. slumped on a very uncomfortable-looking chair next to him. The sight steals his breath away for a moment, as all the memories of the last day come crashing down on him.

So, Carlos' second conscious thought is wondering how he can still be alive when there was so much blood. Maybe this is all a cruel dream and I'm still in surgery, Carlos thinks, but as soon as his eyes land on his boyfriend again, seeing him unharmed except for a white bandage on his head and brace on his other hand, Carlos pleads with whoever is listening for this to be real. Because if T.K. is okay, nothing else matters.

There's no third conscious thought, as the pull of whatever drugs they're giving him is too strong and Carlos drifts back to sleep. But not before he squeezes T.K's hand, and softly promises that he will see him soon.

-x-x-x-

One of the next times Carlos wakes up, he quickly notices there's no hand in his, instead T.K. is lying on the bed next to him, one of his hands under his head holding it up, the other one carefully set on top of Carlos' chest, as his eyes focus on the rise and fall that tells him Carlos is still alive.

Wanting a moment to take it all in, Carlos says nothing and just stares at his boyfriend, thanking their lucky stars because they're both okay. A few seconds later, still saying nothing, Carlos just moves his free hand and sets it over T.K's, intertwining their fingers from above.

Turning away from their joined hands, T.K lets out a small squeak, tho later he would argue it was only a gasp, then looks up and smiles at Carlos. "Hey babe, glad to see you awake," he says softly, "you really scared me today."

Carlos begins to say something, but his dry throat makes it hard to talk and he ends up coughing instead.

"Here, don't talk yet." T.K. quickly turns to a table next to the bed and grabs a cup of water, setting the straw in front of Carlos so he can drink easily. "Go slow."

Carlos drinks a few, tiny sips, letting the cold water soothe his throat and waits a moment before he tries to speak again. "Thank you."

"Anytime," T.K. whispers, then turns back to the bed and gets closer so he can kiss Carlos' forehead. His lips lingering above as his eyes look down on him with as much guilt and pain as Carlos as ever seen there.

"I'm sorry I scared you, but you also scared me a lot," Carlos admits, barely stifling a grunt as he slowly lifts his head to press a kiss to T.K's lips. "And I'm also glad you're okay."

"You shouldn't have done that," T.K. mumbles, lowering himself back onto the bed as he continues to stare at his boyfriend, as if trying to convince himself that he really is okay. "When you said I wasn't allowed to get shot again, that didn't mean you could just jump in front of a bullet meant for me." With that admission, his eyes glaze over and he squeezes them shut to stop any tears from falling.

"I'm sorry, T.K, but I couldn't just do nothing and see you get shot right in front of me," Carlos says honestly, even when he knows his action forced T.K. to do just that but still not regretting his decision. "Besides, at the moment, I didn't think, I just did."

"That's not how this works..." T.K. begins, but Carlos cuts him short.

"This works however way it ends with both of us alive at the end of the day," Carlos finishes for him.

T.K. opens his mouth to say Carlos didn't know that would happen when he took that bullet for him, that he could have died, but honestly, he doesn't think it matters. Because T.K. would have done the same thing for Carlos, and they both know it. So why delve on it now.

"Thank you," T.K. says instead, "and sorry for also worrying you. I just couldn't let the boy die."

"You saved his life… both our lives," Carlos says proudly, "a doctor came before, the boy is okay. His brother also. He stayed outside and helped explain things to the cops when they got there," he answers the unspoken question on T.K's eyes.

T.K just nods, the events of the day still too fresh for him to say much. So Carlos and T.K. just fall into silence for the next few minutes, eyes locked on each other but no words being exchanged.

Raising his hand, Carlos runs it through T.K's hair, stopping when he reaches the white bandage. "You okay?" He asks softly, breaking the silence in the room.

"You just spent four hours in surgery to fix a hole in your chest and you're asking if I'm okay?" T.K. wonders incredulously.

"I will always worry about you," Carlos says sincerely, "and… I'm very high on painkillers, I can see you're not."

Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, T.K's sighs, for once wishing Carlos didn't know him so well. "I'm okay, or I will be. They offered some OTC painkillers but you know I'd rather not."

"Okay," Carlos says simply. He wishes he could do something to alleviate T.K's pain but he knows he can't. This battle is something T.K. always undertakes alone, but as every other time, he will just be here to hold his hand while he toughs it out. "Come here," he says, pulling T.K to him and running his fingers soothingly over his scalp.

Sighing, T.K carefully rests his head over Carlos' shoulder, mindful of all the wires and tubes around him. "Next time we're not going out, and just staying in bed all day, just like this," he says with a breathy laugh, his eyes beginning to slide shut as feelings of content and relief overtake him.

"And next time you guys don't want to hang out with the team you can just say so, no need to be all dramatic and get yourselves shot and concussed again," a voice says from the door and both Carlos and T.K. groan when they see Marjan, Paul, Mateo and Judd standing by the door, no doubt with Owen and Gabriel closed behind… Both cop and paramedic wondering if it's too late to close their eyes and just fake sleep.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Weeping Statue | Feeding Habits Update #6 & let’s chat about quitting writing

Hello! Are we back for another Feeding Habits update (finally)?? Let’s chat chapter 7, Weeping Statue.

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Can we talk about struggle? Because this chapter was IT. I believe I started it in late July and finished it earlier this month. I’ve taken my time with chapters before, but this was next level--the amounts of changes I went through in one chapter was astronomical, and reminded me of drafting chapter three earlier in the summer. I went through so many stages writing this chapter: from enjoying it, to feeling no joy from writing at all, to nearly quitting this book altogether!

Scene A:

Harrison and his mother Suzanna simultaneously avoid each other over breakfast after he failed to return home the night previous

She lowkey calls him out (calling out his denial of missing Lonan)

Scene B:

Harrison goes to a farmhouse owned by Theodore Harvey, a friend of his mother’s, to drop off the rescued litter of kittens from chapter 6. He realizes he is missing one kitten and concludes Reeve has stolen one after dinner the night previous.

Scene C:

Harvey invites Harrison inside for coffee where he admits his coffee machine is broken.

Harrison fixes the coffee machine, and is hired by Harvey to flip the rest of the farmhouse as he and his wife are moving.

Scene D:

On his way home, Harrison stops at a gas station where he buys a bouquet of tulips for his mother, a dog collar for the puppy he found in the kitten litter, a pack of gum, pastries, and sunscreen before heading to a beach.

At the onset of a lightning storm, Harrison swims in the ocean and has an epiphany--he decides to accept his miserable life (a development!)

Scene E:

After the beach ordeal, Harrison returns to his apartment ready to accept the plainness of his daily life when an old ghost from his past (his! ex!) Lonan appears to be having dinner with Suzanna

This chapter brought so many things. A) many... breakdowns lol (I cried a lot!), B) many false epiphanies that wound me back into ruts, C) a desire to quit this series that was just as terrifying as it sounds and D) an ideology I never would’ve gotten on my own. Just have to thank my sister Sarah for telling me a few weeks ago after I insisted that I knew what needed to logically happen but couldn’t write it no matter how hard I tried. She said: “It’s not about what works, it’s about what you want” << literally changed my philosophy on writing, even as someone who tries their best to advocate for care and enjoyment in writing. Not sure if it’s because of the timing when she said this, but I’d probably never had made it out of the rut without having this said to me.

I was *not* planning at all to have my boys reunite so soon in the book. Technically, it is not very soon and we are almost done the book, but for some reason, I really didn’t think it would work so early because I felt Harrison’s POV was so undeveloped already (I still think it is). HOWEVER, the fact of the matter is: it was not working at all. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get to point A to Z but the thing about writing is, it is not formulaic! I tried to make fit what I thought worked, but as time progressed and I immensely struggled, less and less did I want what worked. Writing was miserable and that’s not what I want writing to be for me. So I took Sarah’s advice, and I did what would make me happy, and that was, and has always been, seeing my boys interact.

Now that I’ve finished this chapter, I’m not sure if I made the right decision! I have yet to write the boys interacting so I don’t know if it will work, but what I liked about this method is that it freed me from this constriction I’d written myself into and opened a new avenue to do something that DOESN’T “work” for the story but that does work for me. To me, this project, this series, is more important to me than making something “work”. Sustaining my health and happiness (which were declining on the path I was on) is critical for me and my writing journey.

EDIT: by the time I’m editing this post, I have written the boys interacting and haha yep this was the right decision! Was doubting myself for a sec, added in a lil robbery, and now it’s all good (oops)

Excerpts:

I don’t have too many for you because this chapter does need an edit to “set” it in place (right now it feels like liquid Jello that has been in the fridge but is yet to set up). I know it needs one more scene but I cannot :) write :) what :) it :) needs :) no matter how hard I have tried, and so I am giving that section of the story a break instead of over-kneading it and toughening up the dough unnecessarily.

Here is part of the opening scene! There are things I don’t like about this but I am trying not to self-hate, so !!!

The next morning, Harrison gets up at dawn to drop the kittens off at the farm, and Suzanna makes coffee for one. This is unusual for both—Harrison rarely leaves the apartment, and Suzanna always makes coffee for two. In his room, Harrison combs his hair and twists his earring, its blue gem pearling in dribbles of sunlight. In the kitchen, Suzanna stirs coffee like it’s wronged her. Harrison dabs cologne onto his throat and blinks off his hangover. Suzanna flecks her spoon onto the tabletop so it leaves an egg of amber on the surface.

When he approaches the kitchen, Harrison pretends he does not see his mother and his mother pretends she does not see him. They move like this, repelled, one moving left, the other moving right, one opening the top cupboard, the other opening the bottom.

Harrison stops at a convenience store and buys a hodge-podge of things (also the beach scene which yes mirrors the last scene in Lonan’s POV hehe I indulge myself):

He picks up the best bouquet of fuchsia tulips, a collar for the dog he left in his bedroom even though it’ll be weeks until she’s big enough to fit in it, a pack of spearmint gum he doesn’t need, a package of pastries, and a tube of sunscreen—SPF 30. He almost drops every item at least once on his way up to the register, and definitely drops them when his receipt is spitting from the machine and the store clerk says she likes his earring—is it vintage—and he nearly vomits in the parking lot, trained against the hood of the taxi—is it even his taxi—the plastic bag teetering from his wrist, rain coiling against his cheek, the air so humid, his clothes so heavy, it is no wonder the next place he ends up is the beach.

It is never smart to swim during a storm. If he thinks hard enough, his mother’s voice warns him to keep from the shore, stand behind the yellow line, stay safe, stay where you are, don’t run under a tree, and even more, don’t run into the water. He does everything wrong in an even worse order—dollops sunscreen into his palm before opening the pastry so his teeth freckles with zinc, chews the gum and the pastry at the same time so his tongue becomes a slime of crumbs, rests the tulips too close to the shoreline so they wilt under a wave, misplaces the dog collar in his own left hand, and dives into the water fully-clothed.

Harrison getting very angsty about Lonan’s future (which he’s predicted completely wrong haha):

He will die alone. Reeve will not think of him again and he will deserve that. Somewhere in the city with the missing kitten, drinking bottles of holy water because there is no drink more fitting for a woman so sacred. His mother will miss him only briefly, and then return to her daily life of no longer needing to clean up after him. Maybe she’ll find the tulips. Put them on display until they wither, then use their carcasses as fertilizer. Save electricity. Use the coffee machine less. Downsize to a smaller, cheaper, prettier apartment with arched walkways and stained-glass windows. Harvey will think he is a fluke who missed his first day of work and will never think of him again. The dog isn’t old enough to recognize him. Suzanna will give her the collar. And Lonan will continue his life in Las Vegas, tottering after Eliza, refilling her wine, getting neon at house parties, watching French silent films without captions because he’s probably learned another language, cut his hair, gotten a tattoo, learned how to cross-stitch, bought life insurance, a yacht, a coastal summer home, learned how to play the mandolin, perfected his lamb sous vide. He’s probably married. Him and Eliza family-planning. He’ll expand a future, and Harrison will do the opposite. There is something freeing in being unmissed.

Lightning snaps across the sky like a wishbone, sounds like the prick of tambourines from under the water. Everything turns violet—the clouds, his skin, the waves. Tomorrow will be a better day, as he sinks lower into the current, tomorrow will be a better day, as the light fades and dissolves into blackness, tomorrow will be a better day, as seaweed wraps his throat, as the freezing water impales his ribs, as he burrows under and simultaneously, rises up.

This next part comes right after!

In the stomach of a tidal wave, the sky is so much bluer. An unrolling of cyan like fractals of a baked marble. There is so little to remember. No grocery lists, no fresh turmeric, no shift of portabella mushrooms. No outstanding to-dos—no kibble to by, no resume to update. Harrison folds in blue and lets it gorge his eardrums. He gives his body to that wide chasm of water and breaststrokes not into a second life, but a third.

Here is the last bit:

He buzzes back into the apartment at 3:00AM, tracking in saltwater and SPF, puff-pastry gummed to his palm, a dog collar wound around his ring finger, a sheath of tulips shedding into the elevator behind him.

He hits every floor button twice and is undisturbed when the elevator lurches and reopens in sixty-second intervals. A man rotating a jade cuff on his wrist gets on at the fourth stop and gets off at the sixth. A woman wearing a lynx cape gets on at the eighth stop, breaks up with two girlfriends, and gets off at the eleventh. Two children in coveralls tail in after she leaves and throw jacks at each other’s eyes until one of them bleeds, and by then, they are on the fifteenth floor and the children are leaving like they have not left behind accidental shell casings. On the sixteenth floor, a deer head chihuahua patters in with no owner and barks at the door chime the moment it releases and lets him out. A mother and daughter shell pistachios on the twentieth, a maintenance man introduces himself as David though his nametag says Maxwell on the twenty-second, a flock of teenage girls in whirl about a new way to blend oil pastel on the twenty-third. So it is no wonder by the twenty-fifth floor, Harrison misses his stop and becomes one of these people too—the man with zinc down his eyes like a weeping statue, juggling pastry and a dog collar and a seedy bouquet of tulips.

He tracks seawater in that hallway, parts of him scattering with the zinc, the petals, the crumbs. Like a way to get back home even though he hasn’t started at his destination, he moves through the labyrinth of halls, both starving and nauseated. Tomorrow he will rise at dawn and taxi to Brooklyn and hammer four nails into two pieces of plywood and repeat. He will feed his dog. Learn how to cook something that will impress his mother, something French that he can’t pronounce like brasillé or oeufs cocotte. Find liberation in the constrict of routine or at least pretend to. It will be good for him, the rising, the taxis, the hammers, the nails, the dog food, the cooking—it will all be good.

By the time he gets to their door, his fingers are oiled and dripping with sunscreen. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. He nearly drops the house keys. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. Tomorrow will be his arrival. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. His beginning swelling as he turns the lock. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. There is no other way out.

The apartment is dark when he tracks in. The scent of cinnamon steeping the air like Suzanna’s pulled a saucepan of papas off the stove. At first he doesn’t hear it, but he should, the voices leafing the kitchen like a flit of moths. He steps out of his shoes but never sets anything down, even after he passes the coffee table. Two plates ringing the centre, streaked with and caldeirada and bayleaf. A pitcher of lemonade sweating onto the glass. It is almost like he never left, like he and his mother shared dinner, sipped from each other’s cups, cleaned the tines of each other’s fishbones. And he almost believes it. He never went to the farm. The kittens are where he left them, just a few feet away, not in Brooklyn. He doesn’t have a job to tend to. He never fixed the coffee machine. He didn’t go to the convenience store. He is not slathered in sunscreen, not holding a dog collar or pastries or a bouquet of tulips. He never dove into the ocean like it was some port to asylum and didn’t emerge soaked and walking half-dead to his apartment because he never left. This reality is so easy to believe, he is unfazed by the voices and how they get louder when he reaches the kitchen, when one says “Were you shopping for the apocalypse?” and the other one chokes on its drink and apologizes for its rudeness and stares at him in daydream, those eyes like forget-me-nots, gas fires, seafoam, the wing of a starling, his drop earring.

Harrison is grateful he is soaking wet when he enters that kitchen and Suzanna and Lonan sit at the table sharing a box of petit fours. At least he has an excuse when he drops everything.

That’s it for this update! The tea starts HERE!

--Rachel

[tardis-stowaway]

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong. 

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look  to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more  paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

[ponydera]

TW: Anxiety/Depression/Paranoia

You wake up like you do every day and lay in bed contemplating on whether or not to get up. You roll over to your side and pick up your phone; it’s nine am. You open up the phone menu and scroll through several social media apps before you realize you are getting hungry and finally pull yourself out of bed. You make your way to your kitchen, contemplating on what to have, before you grab an apple and start eating that. Eating an apple was your safest bet: if you had toast with eggs and bacon you’d have to worry about when the toast would pop, and the inevitable jump from that, and then there was the sizzling and crackling of the eggs and bacon in a pan that would keep you on edge. And heaven forbid you try to microwave something to eat and the whirring and incessant dinging that it was done irritate your nerves.

You finish off the apple pretty quickly and thought about just going back to bed but then you remembered how you promised your therapist that you would try to get some more fresh air. Plus, getting dressed every day is supposedly supposed to help with your mental health. Or so they say. So you get dressed and you go to put your shoes on, and your right shoe is bigger than it was the last time you put it on. Maybe it was just your imagination and you needed to tie it tighter, after all, what else would be the reason for the increase in size. You put the extra space in the shoe to the back of your mind and leave the house and like always, triple-check to make sure that the door was definitely locked behind you.

It’s a hot day outside and there’s no breeze making the walk to the nearby park even more unbearable than it usually would be. You can’t tell if the echo of your steps are really yours or someone else possibly walking nearby, the birds suddenly flee the trees and squirrels run off at your approach so maybe the crunching of leaves and twigs are from them, and the insects seem surprisingly quiet since they’d usually be buzzing around in the heat. Few cars pass on the road beside you and you can’t help but wonder if something is wrong because there’s so little people out and about on what would normally be considered a beautiful day. You hear a bell ring, startling you from your thoughts, and you look around to see a biker coming up behind you to pass. You take a few seconds to recover from the shock that you weren’t expecting and then continue on your way.

You eventually make it to the park where there’s a small convenience store and a mom-and-pop ice cream shop for campers and park goers can rest and get a few things they might have forgotten. The campground has a few RVs and the park has a couple of families there for a barbeque while their kids play on the playground. You decide it’s too hot to just turn around so you make your way into the convenience store for a drink. There’s only one worker up at the counter and it seems as if she has nothing better to do than stare at you while you pick out a drink. You don’t really know if she’s staring at you though because you can’t bring yourself to look but you can feel a stare at the back of your head. You grab a lemonade and quickly make your way to the counter. “Will this be all?” She asks and you just mumble a “yeah” not able to keep eye contact so you look to the cigarettes behind her and then the cash register display with your total. You awkwardly wait to swipe your card as the machine prompts you to donate to a local hospital. You still feel her eyes on you. As quickly as possible, you finish the transaction and leave, opening the bottle of lemonade and downing a third of it right away. After all, you only had an apple for breakfast, you didn’t even drink any water so you’re probably dehydrated.

And as if your mind read your stomach’s thoughts, it started to rumble. But the only place around was the ice cream shop or going back into the convenience store and there was no way you could bring yourself to face that stare again, so the ice cream shop it was. Luckily for you it was empty, that gave you time to think about what you wanted. It seemed like the shop workers were still busy opening up so they don’t pay you much mind as you peer through the glass at the selections. But then a bell rings and what seems like several families of campers comes into the shop. They must have been the ones at the barbeque or the ones in the RV, but it didn’t really matter because the small shop was suddenly crowded with people. People wanting to look at the display also, people wanting to know if you have ordered yet or if you’re still waiting to order, people waiting for you to be gone so they can get their ice cream. Suddenly losing all interest in having ice cream, but not wanting to get the side-eye for leaving without buying anything, you order two scoops of vanilla in a waffle cone. Again, you can’t make eye contact with the worker and just mumble your thanks as they hand you your ice cream and you swipe your card.

You escape into the heat of the day with your ice cream in one hand and a lemonade in the other. Not the best of combinations but it would have to work because there’s no way you could go back for something else. So, you head to the nearest park bench that’s farthest away from the kids still playing on the playground and you sit to eat your ice cream. The taste makes it the most enjoyable part of your day so far, giving you a little bit of comfort in an otherwise anxious day. You quickly make your way through the ice cream, you were much hungrier than you thought, and you get up to head home; the best part of this whole excursion.

You don’t bother to deviate from the path you came on, too many possible unknowns, plus this was the shortest distance back to the house. Suddenly, a dog and a walker turn the corner towards you. You keep walking but can’t stop staring and the dog looks like it’s trying to make its way to you. When the dog gets close enough, it jumps to try and get your attention. The walker says the dog’s name is Milo and that you’re free to pet him. So you give your thanks and then bend down to give Milo the full attention he deserves. You pet him for a few minutes and then start to wonder how long you’re allowed to pet him, surely you’re holding up his walker from wherever they were going and that makes you realize that the walker’s attention had been on you and your interaction with the dog this whole time. You start to panic since you aren’t sure if it’s polite to keep petting or when you should stop, so you stand up immediately, give your thanks once again, wave at Milo and speed walk away.

You don’t stop until you get to your house and shakily unlock your door; you’re not used to high-intensity walking on a really hot day so you are out of breath when you arrive at home. You get into the air-conditioned house and quickly shut the door and locked it behind you. As you catch your breath in the darkened living room, you down more of your lemonade that has started to get warm. You turn on a light and look around; for some reason it feels like everything in your living room has been shifted by at least one inch. You sit down to turn on a show you’ve seen five times to relax and it’s almost like the TV is closer than it usually is. You get up and make sure your entertainment system is pushed against the wall and you move you couch back a bit, but when you sit down this time, the TV seems too far away. Maybe you were just imagining it being too close. You kick of your regular sized left shoe and your larger-than-usual right shoe and curl up on the couch for the rest of the day, promising yourself that you don’t have to go out again until tomorrow.

_________________________________________________________

Hey guys, I'm trying out writing prompts and I'm trying to get my average word count up. Today's prompt was inspired by my anxiety, depression, and paranoia and I figured I'd put it all in one package. I hope you guys enjoy and any constructive criticism is welcome!

[addysonsophia]

Pressed Coffee

Pairing: Johnny x Reader (gender-neutral terms were used, but I had a fem!reader in mind when writing this).

Genre: Fluff, angst, some suggestive situations (not really).

Word Count: 9.1K

Summary: This is difficult to explain. I had to write this for a college lit class following the form of David Levithan’s Lover’s Dictionary, which twists the “normal” way of defining words. Told through the lens of a man we learn about his relationship, the reader doesn’t know the sequence of the events that are taking place before our very eyes, through the words that he has chosen to define with tableaus of his love life. I did this with Johnny, and I think I did a good job. Wow, this was a bad summary. Let’s try: How coffee can lead to a beautiful romance. Yeah that’s ok.

Warnings: None, some angst near the end. 

Caffeine n.

           I was late, like always.

           I woke up a whole hour later than normal, and that caused me to do a speed-run version of my morning routine. Good thing I shower at night—a great time saver. I left my apartment in twenty minutes; as I stepped out the door the noises of the morning surrounded me: cars bumper to bumper through the city making their way to work: morning joggers with their dogs and strollers zooming past the seemingly frozen vehicles; birds swooping down from the sky to the land, hopping, and hoping for some food.

           I quicken my pace as I head to the subway station on 48th Street; my shoes just a tiny bit too tight today, barely allowing me to keep my speed. Closer, I get to the orange sign, the faster time moves, never letting me get ahead, leaving me two steps behind. Down the stairs with a quick hop in my step, and a swipe of my subway card, I wait on the platform for my train. I looked to my watch, then to the board above the tunnel—the train was seven minutes way.

           “Crap.” Was what I said out loud but, in my head, I was breaking down. It takes a lot to make me stressed but being late was suspect number one. Being late, is like a mortal sin that has been ingrained into my psyche from a young age: all my after-school activities in high school emphasized how important being on time was. “If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. If you’re late, you’re dead.” That is what many band teachers, drama directors, and coaches have said to me. In college, there were consequences to being late, the beginning of practices would be spent running for every person not there (if they didn’t inform the coach that they would be late), then when the offender would arrive, they would run. Being on time shows that you are respectful, aware of other people and their time that they are giving up to also be there.

           With the rising levels of stress, I shot my boss a quick text:

           “I’m running a bit late. I’ll be in soon. Would you like me to pick anything up for you?”

           A minute later, she responded with:

           “That’s fine, you don’t have tons of work like normal. Can you get me a coffee? You know my order ;)” A sigh of relief fell from my mouth at the message, and the growing squealing sounds from the tunnel. I send back a thumbs up and slip my phone back into my pocket.

          The wind of the underground picks up as a silver train flew by, slowly coming to a halt. As the doors open, people being to push their way into their spots—I take mine towards the front of the car, another hand joining the many others on the rail overhead. Swaying back and forth, the lights flicker above me as the air conditioning blows; a baby sits on their parents’ lap in front of me with the biggest smile on their chubby face. A small wave is all it takes to grab the baby’s attention, smiling back, I make a funny face at them, and now they’re bubbling with the cutest laughter. They reach out to take my hand, their ravioli sized fist wraps around my pointer finger, and the last of my stress melts away with this little angel in front of me. The parent, also has a smile on their face, appeased with the behavior of their child—any form of travel with a baby is hard, so I try and make it a little easier for them.

          Sadly, my stop was up, and I waved bye to my new friend. I stepped off the train and headed up the stairs to 110th street. I already knew what coffee shop I was going to: there is a small café down the block from my office that has the best drinks and snacks—which was prefect because I had to skip breakfast. Hauling ass through the streets towards Papaya Acres Café, I mentally prepared my order.

           “One large, caramel swirl ice coffee, two and two liquid sugar; one medium hot coffee with regular cream and sugar; and a croissant with butter, warmed.” The bell chimed as I pulled the glass door open and was immediately bathed in the scent of coffee and sweets. I inched forwards in line towards the cash register, when I made it, I recited my order perfectly, paid, then waited at the pick-up counter. The bell above the door twinkling when more customers came in, the melodic music coming from the speakers, and the whining from the espresso machine. I pulled my phone out to kill time before my order was ready, I opened Twitter and started scrolling through my feed.

           “Dude, you can’t just, like, look at someone like that and not expect to get punched in the face.”

           “I didn’t mean too! There was a-a-I don’t even remember, but she didn’t have to punch me.” What did this guy do? I know that I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it, I had to listen in.

           “I don’t know, I saw your face, and I would have punched it too if you were looking at me like that.” The man, that was facing me, had brown hair that was styled away from his face, leaving his brown eyes on display—they were light and full of mischief. He wore a grey sweatshirt that looked comfy as hell, and he had a smile stretched across his face.

           “Well, he seems nice.” I whisper to myself, my lips dancing into a smile. I turned my back to them, deciding it better to not listen in anymore.

           “I don’t know any—”

           “Miss, here’s your order.” Two coffees sat in a carrying tray and a bag—hopefully containing my croissant—in between the drinks.

           “Thank you, have a great day.” My smile grew as I picked up my order. Turning back to the door, I began texting my boss that I was on my way. I made it a few steps when my hands were knocked towards me.

          He was early, like always.

 Frustrated adj.

           Today, out of any day, today was the day that I was going to cry in public. Now, I never usually cry, not at movies (sometimes I do, I’m not heartless), not at sad songs, not when I’m stressed, and definitely not in public. But this just broke the dam.

           There I stood, in the middle of a coffee shop, with both boiling and freezing coffee down the front of my white sweater—well, my now, brown sweater—and cute black pants. The clear plastic cup sat crushed next to the paper cup, the rest of the hot coffee melting the ice on the floor. A pair of faded, black converse faced my black shoes. Tears begin to pool in my eyes, the tiled floor becoming blurry, hands clasp my shoulders and my head snaps up.

           “Are you okay?” Deep brown eyes stare back at mine. The tears being to race down my face.

           “Yeah.” I nod slowly.

           “Then why are you crying?” A soft hand comes to my cheek, his thumb brushes a tear away. After that I just completely broke down, like big ugly sobs, snot—everything. His hands shift, moving from my face and shoulder to caressing my head and holding my back.

           “I woke up late, then my train was late, but my boss said it was fine and wanted me to get her a coffee, and then I split it all over me. But this is the fifth time I’ve been late this month, and my supervisor said that if I was late one more time, I have to meet with her.” With a heaving chest and choked sobs, I managed to explain my short morning. Sinking further, I wrapped my arms around the kind man and just let it out. I probably shouldn’t have done that, but he was so warm, and I was so tired—sometimes you just need a hug.

           “That was my fault, I’m sorry.” He whispered into my hair, a hand running up and down my back. Slowly, I began to calm down, savoring the hug for a few more moments before I pulled away. I looked at his grey sweatshirt and saw dark marks from where my face was and the remnants of the coffee.

           “It’s okay, I’m sorry that I got tears and snot on your sweatshirt.” Dabbing at my tears to dry my face, I turned away, getting mascara on my sleeve—the sweater was already ruined so it couldn’t get any worse. I pulled myself from his arms sighing, I bent down to grab my phone (thankful undamaged) and texted my boss what happened. I turned to the counter to reorder, and the worker already has my order ready.

           “Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” I begin to pull my wallet out to pay, but she was just shaking her head at me.

           “After what I just saw, you are fine. Don’t worry about it.” Her smile was kind. I went back up to the counter and put a couple of bills in the tip jar.

           “Thank you so much.” I turn back around and see the man still standing were I left him.

           “Hi, my name is Johnny. Can we start over again?”

Gilded adj.

           Being with Johnny was like being in a world of sunlight. Everything was filled with loud laughs, quiet whispers, longing glances, quick kisses, and loving touches. Of course, there were arguments and disagreements, we were a normal couple in a not so normal world. His job is demanding, long hours and weeks spent with the only kinds of communication are texts and FaceTime calls. At first, this arrangement was strange: dates spent at hole in the wall restaurants in a back-corner way from the other patrons; dinner and movies—at home; late (like 1 a.m.) walks in the park, and food from convenient stores. It was easy to get used to, and I get why it had to be that way. When your boyfriend is part of a world-known group, you can’t really go outside in broad daylight and be seen together—it would most likely ruin his career, and some of the fans go too far.

           I rolled over, a mess of blankets and sheet caught between us, and I just look at him. The sun streamed in through the curtains, filling the room with a warm glow. His hair turning a rich golden brown, the light doesn’t stop there, bathing his skin a shimmering yellow. The sight making me gasp, because in that moment, he looked ethereal—in that moment I knew I loved him.

           Soft breathes fell in the space between, I moved my hand and started tracing his face. Thick eyebrows, long lashes, strong nose, full lips, sharp jaw; this man looked like he was carved from the Gods themselves, and he was all mine.

           He groaned when I stopped my movements; arms moving, coming to pull me closer to his chest.

           “Morning.” Eyes still closed.

           “Morning.” Eyes opened, the brown catching the light and turned gold. I leaned in and placed a quick kiss to his lips, then tried to get up. But he wasn’t budging.

           “Where do you think you’re going?” He raised himself up on one arm, holding me with the other.

           “Bathroom.” He shook his head, I moved away again. Then he lifted himself up, arms coming to either side of me, only to lay himself on top of me, effectively stopping any attempts to start the day.

           “You’re not going anywhere.” His lips tickled my neck as he spoke. I sighed out and began to run my hands through his hair, and his breathing slowed. Shortly after, the snores started, and there was no way I was getting up for about an hour. I wrapped my arms around him and started to fall back to sleep.

           Perfect, it was perfect.

Hostile adj.

           It was a rare date night out, and I was brimming with excitement. Tonight, we went to our favorite restaurant then headed for a movie at my place. On the walk back to my apartment, something felt off. Footsteps and whispering followed every step of our own. I pulled my face mask higher up on my face as I looked around—to not cause suspicion. With a glance behind us, I saw a group of girls, and my heart sank. This was it; this is where the relationship ended; they were going to find out and tell everyone.

          See when you date a celebrity, there are rules because there are consequences. The fans of most groups are wonderful, the kindest people you will ever meet, but then there are a few that are not. These fans think that they are entitled to the artist: they stalk them; find their phone number, and call them constantly; they send death threats to anyone who gets close to their favorite artist—or worse to the artist themselves. To say I was scared would be an understatement.

           “John, there’s a group of girls behind us. They’ve been following us for a while.” I lean my head on his shoulder to not cause alarm.

           “John? Wha—Oh. Ok. Ah, let me think.” He became serious: eyebrows furrowed under his black cap; lips pursed behind his face mask. I don’t know how they found us; we were so careful.

          Steps grew closer, and I could hear some of what they were feverishly whispering about.

           “Do you think it’s him?”

           “It has to be. I mean, look at him.”

           “If it is him, who is that?”

           “I don’t know, but I think if I can get close enough I can—” With that they dared more steps, for every two we took, they took three. This was getting serious.

           “Ok, after we reach this corner, we are going to enter that store—see it? The bookstore? —then we are going to walk around inside until they follow us in, then after a few seconds we are going to leave, then make a break for it down the block. Sound like a plan?” It was a stupid plan, but it was the only one we had right now.

           “I guess, this better work.” My grip tightens on is arm, trying to ground myself in the situation.

           “Wait!” One of the girl’s screech behind me, I slightly turn my head to hear better.

           “—said that she spotted him on 1st and 3rd Street. Let’s go.” They all crossed the street and headed in down the block—away from us.

           “I think we are going to have to stop with the dates outside for a little while.” With a sigh, he nodded.

Lend v.

           It was a cool day, in October, and I forgot my jacket. Walking through the streets at night would have been fine if it were summer, but it wasn’t. I had been in such a hurry to get out of the apartment to meet up with him, that I just completely forgot to grab the jacket sitting on the hook by the door. I didn’t notice until I had made it to the restaurant.

           “Did you walk all the way here without a jacket?” I scooched my chair closer to the table, grabbing my glass to sip some water.

           “Uh, I forgot it to grab it when I left.” A chuckle falls from his mouth, his eyes curving to crescent moons, then he reached across the table to take my hand, his larger one encompassing my own.

           “You’re a freakin’ loser.” An often-used term of endearment. Eyes rolling, I squeezed his warm hand.

           “Takes one to know one.” His face breaks into a wide smile.

           The waiter came to take our order, and when he left, we just sat in each other’s gaze, content with the moment. The food came, bites were shared, and when the bill was paid, he offered to walk me home.

           With the moon rising higher in the sky, the temperatures dropped. Lights from shops, apartments, and streetlights created a world of color, drenching us in greens, blues, reds, and yellows. A gust of wind came from behind us, and in a moment of silence after—he dropped his jacket onto my shoulders. I laughed.

           “Thank you.” I looked at his profile, a strand of hair fell into his eyes, and he just left it. Lips were curved into a small smile—proud of the smoothness of the execution; a black turtleneck was the only thing shielding him from the weather, and from the looks of it, he was winning.

           “Always. Can’t have you freezing on me.”

           “I’m not going to freeze, Johnny.”

           “Not when I’m here, duh.”

           “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

           “I’m lucky you’re mine.” Not only was my body warm, but my face was too.

           He was smooth.

Loneliness adj.

           He was gone. Days had turned into weeks, and the bed had grown cold as nights were spent hoping for his return. Time seemed to move slower without him by my side; the sun and it’s jovial rays never seem to set, and when they do the moon and its frigid compassion surround me in an endless longing for the light. I know that I shouldn’t be acting like this, but he was my world.

           I made my way to the kitchen, the cold floors numbing my bare feet. The blanket wrapped over my frame providing little warmth. The rising sun casted an orange glow in the room. I slowly set my mug into the sink, washing the rings of coffee from the inside wall, my movements becoming sluggish as the world caught up with me.

           The lock beeps from the front door, gradually opening. Shuffling could be heard in the entryway: keys being placed on their hook, bags being set down, shoes being kicked onto the rug, and jackets being placed on the rack. Water running down the drain was the only thing that filled my ears—deaf, I was to the footsteps drawing closer. Mug in one hand and scrubber brush in the other, I gazed to the beginning of the day: lights flicking on room by room in the building across from me, people making their way of from their homes, cars starting to head towards their destination. Vibrations come from behind me as warm hands snake around my blanket, hands turning into arms and a chest pressed into my back. It does not shake me from my trace, still I gazed out the window—until warm lips press onto the top of my head. By the time I had set down the mug and scrubber, I was turned around, facing him. As I looked into his eyes, my own began filling with tears. Like the play button had been pressed, my hands shot out to grab his arms, pulling him closer.

           “You’re back?” uncertainty filling the room.

           “I’m back.”

           My world had returned. He pulled me from the sink, taking one of my hands and his other sliding to my back, he begun to sway. There we stood, dancing in the kitchen at 6 in the morning—revolving around each other, for we were the centers of our universe.

Nervous adj.

           The energy in the venue was high, everything was buzzing: the lights, the speaker, the crowd, and my heart. This was the first time that I saw Johnny’s group in person, I’ve seen concert videos, fan-cams, and their online concerts, but never in real life. He has been on tour for two months—which is a long time to only talk through FaceTime and texts, but it was well worth the wait. I managed to get tickets to their last show, shortly after followed plane tickets and a hotel reservation.

           The beginning of my day was spent sleeping in to get rid of the jet lag, once I was up and ready, I headed to the venue; the concert may start at 8 p.m., but you also have to get there early so you can get fan-made stuff and merch. I arrived at 4 p.m., and began to wait, making friends along the way, excitedly talking with them about the members, songs, moments, and theories for the next comeback.

           I made it to my seat, light stick, and fan banner in hand as I pulled my phone out to text him good luck—as I did for every concert. I went on Twitter to see that the concert was trending, a smile on my lips as I liked the groups’ pre-concert posts. The fan sitting next to me saw my fan banner.

           “Ooh, you like Johnny?” Their eyes sparkling in the bright fluorescent lights overhead.

           “Yeah, as much as I love them all, he’s my favorite. Who’s you’re favorite?”

           “Haechan, he’s so cute. But I also love all of them members too.” After that we got more friendly, names were swapped, and then we started talking about everything about the group. As time for the concert began grew closer the more my heart began to race, my palms became sweaty, and my stomach was in knots. Soon the lights dimmed, and the crowd thrummed with energy, light sticks turning on and the space changed into a green ocean.

           The screens on the stage flickered to life, beginning the VCR introduction. The lights flashed and there he was in all his glory, standing before me. The music played and the members came to life, moving as one before the crowd.

But he always stood out to me.

Smitten v.

              He had seen me during the concert and had someone come get me when it finished. Going through some ‘STAFF ONLY’ doors, and many turns later, I was in the dressing room waiting for the guys to finish going over the concert.

           Sitting, on my phone, still going through the concert tag on Twitter, I heard them coming from a mile away with their excited yells and laughs. The door opens and they all flood into the room, the sound following them in. He was the last one, of course. Eyes scanning the room, going from person to person trying to find something, someone—me.

           When our eyes met, it was as if the world going on around us had melted away, it was only him and me. It was perfect. Slowly, I rose from my seat and started to make my way to him, he was pushing through the people blocking us. When we got to the middle, he slowly, but surely, wrapped his arms around me. It was warm and whole, and I accepted it—eagerly. I buried my face into his chest—slightly heaving from the two-hour long concert, the sweat was felt on my cheek— and I smiled into it.

           “Hi, I missed you.” Quiet, we were, afraid that this moment could end in the next breath.

           “I missed you too.”  He kissed the top of my head, then rested his cheek there, I wanted him to stay there forever. But our reunion was stopped when the others joined in on the hug—turning into a dog-pile. I let it happen for a little while, but then it started to get hot, and they were all sweaty—so, so sweaty.

           “Guys…I can’t breathe anymore.”

           “You let Johnny hug you, so why can’t we.” Mark said from somewhere from the outside of the pile.

           “Because he’s my boyfriend, and ya’ll are gross and sweaty.” I squirm in Johnny’s arms, but none of them budged. “I’m going to die in here, aren’t I?” I whisper.

           “Probably, but at least I’ll die with you.” He whispers back.

           “No, you’re not, you Giraffe. You get fresh air and everything, while I’m down here in the depths of gross boy stank.” I resorted to whining, I’m not proud but I needed out of my prison.

           “Guys, you heard them, give ‘em some space. They’re right, you do stink.” He started pushing them away, chuckling.

           “Is that better, Baby?” He brushed my hair out of my face when I looked up at him.

           “Yes, Handsome. I can only handle one stinky boy right now.” His hug became crushing as he lifted me a few inches off the ground that left me squealing.

           “Stinky?!” Eyes wide. “I’m stinky?” He asked, voice raising a few decibels.

           “Big time.” Then, my life flashed before my eyes as he starts to rub his head all over my face. Gagging, I push his nasty ass away from me, but with his grip around me, he wasn’t going anywhere. A hidden smile on my face turns into a frown when he lifts his head up to look at me.

           “You’re gross. I don’t want to hug you anymore.” I push again, but that only encourages him. His hands shift from my back to my sides, then he starts to wiggle them over the covered skin.

           “Stop it! No, Johnny! Stop!” Forced laughs escaped as tears start to run down my face.

           “Then, take it back! Say you want to hug me!” He wasn’t letting up, if anything, he was picking up the pace.

           “Never! I told you that I don’t want to hug stinky boys!” My chest began to rise and fall at a rapid speed, air rushed into my lungs only for it to be ripped back out. There was no end in sight as one of his hands grasped my side to stop me from trying to twist out of his attack.

           “I’m not stopping until you say it AND give me a kiss!” A huge smile and crescent eyes are all I saw as he brought his face closer to mine, smile slinking into a smirk. “Be good, and listen, Baby.” Time to bring in the big guns.

           “Jaehyun! Help me! Please!” I whip my head around to not only look for my hopeful savior, but to hide my flushed cheeks from his comment. As fast as I called his name, two more arms wrapped around me, and pulled me from Johnny’s ruthless hold. I push off from Jaehyun; finally, away from the constant contact, I slowed my breathing down. Smoothing my hair down and running my sweaty hands down the front of my jeans, I stood up straight and looked at Johnny.

           “That was mean.” Lips: full on pout mode, Eyes: puppy dog mode engaged, Arms: crossed over one another. I was the picture-perfect example of how to get an apology. With his jaw dropped and eyes wide, Johnny was the perfect example of forming an apology.

           “Mean?! You said that you didn’t want to hug me anymore!” True.

           “But I was just joking. You didn’t have to rub your sweaty head on me, then tickle me.” Jaw snapped close, and eyes turning into soft brown ones, we were at a standstill. The others were lightly laughing at the scene going on in front of them, one seen many times before, but always with a different victor.

           “You hurt my feelings.” One step closer.

           “You hurt my nose and lungs” One step.

           “You were mean.” One step.

           “You were meaner.” Last step. We met in another hug; the winner was obvious.

           “God, they’re so whipped for each other.” Mark whisper to Jaehyun with an eye roll.

Telephone n.

           “I love you.”

           “I love you more.”

           “Not possible.”

           “I think it is, Johnny. I love you so much more than you love me. You fill up, like, 54% of my heart.” With a slight nod, I won this time.

           “Only 54%? Are you loving other people on the side?” A dramatic gasp and a flared hand placed on his chest caused me to laugh.

           “Of course, Loser. The rest of the boys take up about 6%, My mom has 10%, Ms. Jenkins and her cat has 7%, and I have the other 23% saved for a rainy day.” My cheeks began to hurt from smiling so much; one thing that I love about him is that no matter what, he can always make me smile.

           “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Baby.” I slightly leaned forward, even though it did little to minimize the actual distance between us. My breath caught, as I strained my ears to hear him as he whispered.

           “I love you, 3000.” My face dropped, a chuckle bubbled out, turning into a laugh, then into a cackle, and finally, I was in bed with tears streaming down my face and I couldn’t catch my breath. Once I finally calm down, I looked at him with a serious face.

           “You are the love of my life.”

           “And you are the love of mine.”

           “I miss you.” Sigh.

           “I’ll be home soon.”

           “You’ll always come back, right? Back home? Back to me?”

           “Always.”

           That night, neither one of us hung up, content to still in a comfortable silence until he fell asleep. Then I soon followed, the sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep with one word on my mind.

           Always.

Voyage n.

           I watched the sun sink beneath the tall buildings. The sky had been graying all day and with the dark clouds rolling in, all the signs pointed to a storm.

           But there was going to be more than one storm tonight.

           Hours over the stove, wasted as the meal sits in the oven waiting to be eaten. Slowly, they lose their heat, mine steadily rose. The cars filter through the street below, reds, blues, blacks, but not the car I was waiting for. The rain falling on the street, coloring it dark; the hum of electricity fresh in the air as a flash of lightening lit up my face in the window. I looked around my dark apartment and felt empty. With a huff, I head to the bathroom, limbs stiff from sitting folded up on the couch, waiting. I looked at the mirror, sighed, turned, and left. Walking through the dark apartment, I heard thunder booming overhead, followed by a crack of lightening, brightening the room for a second, before being shrouded again.

           Four times. Now, five times, he had missed our date. There was no text, no call, no note. Nothing, there was nothing.

There was one thing: loneness.

There were two things: loneness and anger. Two things that don’t work well together. One eats at the mind, and the other eats at the soul.

           Hours passed, and I was still alone, sitting on the couch. Still waiting. That’s what this relationship was, waiting: waiting up for him to come back after practice, waiting for him to come home after months of being away, waiting for him to show up to dates, waiting for love. That was the hardest part, the love. Being away from each other as often as we are, you don’t feel loved—I don’t feel loved. Nights spent lying in bed waiting for him to hold me. Days spent waiting for any sign of life on his end. And the in between spent always waiting.

           It was a moonless night because of the storm, still pounding away. They say thunderstorms are caused by the Greek God, Zeus, king of the sky, when he’s angry. How I shared his rage tonight. How I wanted to scream at him, but no sound came out. Nothing came out. The door beeped, then opened; shoes kicked to the floor, and keys hung up on the rack. A sigh fell from the doorway. I looked at my watch, the glow threw shadows around the living room as it read: 11:23 p.m. Steps heard, a light clicked on, a name is called—my name. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

           My named echoed through the apartment, he wondered into the living room—light still off.

           “Baby, what are you doing sitting in the dark?” A chuckle falls from his lips, a sigh from mine.

           “Waiting.” My mouth too dry to put power behind it, so it came out as a whisper.

           “What?” He made his way closer to me, only halfway to the couch I was curled on.

           “Waiting.” It was a little louder this time.

           “Honey, speak up. You’re whispering.” He was almost in front of me know, I could smell his sweat mixing with his deodorant.

           “WAITING! I SAID I WAS WAITING FOR YOU!” A crash of thunder boomed in time with my declaration. He stood, staring at me like I had grown another head.

           “I’m sorry.” With my chest heaving, I pulled myself off the couch, making my way to leave the room to cool down. I passed him and he grabbed my arm, halting me. I turned to face him, his eyes moving quickly over me—searching for the reason of my outburst. A crack of lightening spilt the sky and lit his brown eyes that were wide with worry.

           “W-What’s wrong? What happened, Angel?” He grasped my hands and held them in between us. I scoffed, head shaking. Did he really forget? Something so important—a date—and he doesn’t even know what he did wrong? I let it go the first few times, but this—this tipped the scales.

           “You forgot.” I spoke, words filled with a venom that I could feel the burning at my tongue and throat, itching to get out. I stared at our connected hands, frustration filling me up, I could see it collect in the corner of my eyes. The wind started to slam against the windows, as another clap of thunder sounded.

            “Oh, Sweetheart. I am so sorry. I got hel—”

           “You got held up at practice.” I laughed, because of course he did. He always did. I was beginning to feel hot; I dropped his hands and crossed mine. He reached out for me, but I stepped away—needing space.

           “Darling—”

           “Stop with the nicknames, Johnny! Stop trying to defuse the situation!” I paced around the living room—still in the dark—trying to ease the anger. Johnny walked away to turn the light on; the room bathed in a hue of gold. He was wearing those sweatpants that fit him just right, and a black long sleeve; a tired look on his face, but his eyes were guarded—trying to read my fire-filled ones.  

           “There is no situation, I don’t see why it is such a big deal if I miss a date.” Annoyed—that’s what he was, he was annoyed with me. But the feelings I had, were worse.

“Oh? So, that’s how you feel about it? You don’t care about our dates? The only thing you seem to care about is work.” My back was turned, I didn’t want him to see me cry.

           “Are you fucking kidding me? The only—Wow. What is wrong with you?!” The level of his voice was rising—so was mine.

           “What’s wrong with me?! You have missed five dates, Johnny!” I turned around in time to see his eyes rolling. “No calls, no text, no heads up! I would have been fine, but I stood for hours over the stove cooking your favorite meal! I had set the table all nice, I got your favorite wine, your favorite candles, and your favorite music! But you just didn’t show up—too busy dancing with your friends—leaving me alone!” Hands thrown up in the air, I moved into a corner of the room.

           “Do you want to know what you sound like right now? You sound like a brat.” The word being spat out of his mouth. “You think I’m just singing and dancing all day?! I am working my ass off to make people happy! I work all day, and I just want to come home and sleep!” There it was, the guilt, beginning to build in my gut. “You knew what you signed up for going into this relationship, you knew that things weren’t going to be easy! But here you are, whining like a little bitch because I missed some dates!” The storm outside matched the storm inside, the loud rage was inescapable.

           “What did you just call me? A Bitch? I—Ok.” I ran my hands through my hair, I was boiling now, nothing was going to stop the war he just laid out. “I do know what I signed up for! But when you’re in a relationship, things go both ways, Johnny! I don’t think you recognize that! When was the last time you planned a date? When was the last time you went out of your way to do something nice? When was the last time you showed me you cared? I don’t remember, and after all of this, I doubt you do.”

           “Are we serious arguing over this?”

           “Don’t change the subject!”

           “We are seriously fighting over a date?! A DATE?!”

           “ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!” The windows rattled from the thunderous boom. The storm or the shout? That is something that will be unknown for the rest of time.

           “What is this really about? Are you jealous? Are you jealous at the fact that I do something I love? Are you jealous because you work a meaningless desk job?” My mouth dropped. One of my biggest regrets was not pursuing what I wanted to in college, I did what my parents wanted and that was shared in secret with him. Late night talks, quiet whispers so no one in the world could hear our confessions.

           “I can’t believe that’s what you think this is about! I know you love your job! I love seeing you happy because of it! I-I just can’t keep this up.” Tiredness just rolled over me as I was sitting down on the couch, and holding my head in my hands. The storm still raging outside.

           “This?” He sneered.

           “This! You! Coming here late every time you stay over! Dates spent here, your place, or some random restaurant at 10 at night! Not seeing you for weeks at a time! You’re never here anymore, Johnny! There’s always some excuse as to why you can’t come over. And sometimes there’s nothing at all!” The rain on the windows matched the tears on my face. “I’M SO LONELY, AND YOU DON’T EVEN CARE!” My chest heaves for a different reason as sobs echoed through the apartment. I spared a glance at him, the anger was gone, replaced with realization and sadness. His hands shook, eyes searching around the room, mouth slightly open, trying to find something—anything—to say. But the damage was done.

           An eternity had passed, but only mere minutes had. One question weighed on my mine. One that needed to be said. One that could change everything.

           “Do you even want this anymore?” My eyes shut, waiting for his response. But none came. When I opened them, he was standing in the doorway, mouth open, eyes frantic. With a sigh, I rose from the couch and headed to the door. I walked by him and when he didn’t say anything, I scoffed. I slipped my shoes on and unlocked the door.

           “Wh-Where are you going?” He sounded so small. My baby—no, not anymore. He may not have answered the question, but his silence did.

           “I don’t know.” It was like I took a backseat to the situation and I was now only watching it.

           “When are you coming back?” Opening the door was the easiest and hardest thing I had done all night.

           “I don’t know.”

           “I’m sorry.” I hummed in response, slipping out the door.

           I don’t know how long I walked for, but the moment I had stepped outside, I was soaked by the rain and guilt. It wasn’t cold though; it was surprisingly warm. I had shut my phone off after Johnny had left his 6th voicemail. I want to be alone, but my thoughts kept me company. The mind likes to bring up memories, I found, after a something like this. Mornings spent waking up to breakfast in bed with a loving kiss in between bites, soft pouts led to a forkful of food, and warm gazes fueled breakfast being forgotten for a little while. Beautiful flowers placed on my desk at work, with a dorky note attached to it; doorbells rang with deliveries of even more flowers when he was gone for months at a time. Date nights that came to an end with a slow dance in the living room as music circled us from some random playlist on his phone in his pocket, after a while, hands, and lips begin to wander, one pulling the other down the hall to the bedroom. Late nights shared in bed, hair slighted messed, hands tracing shapes onto skin, lips moving in hushed whispers, and eyes full of love. Sleepless, nightmare filled nights, glasses of water at my beckoned call, hugs were endless, and a soft voice always lulling me back to sleep.

           As I sat on the curb of some random street, crying, these memories showed me that he did care. Love is shown and spoken in different ways, and I was so focused on the verbal, rather than the actions. God, I was so stupid. Last week, he had made me lunch for work, he even took the time to cut the fruits into hearts.

           I raised my head up and looked towards the sky, rain hitting me in the face. I sighed, then reached into my pocket, and tried to turn on my phone, but a black screen stared back at me. This night couldn’t possibly even get worse. So, I stood up and tried to find a street sign to figure out where in the hell I was. I spotted one above a bookstore and figured that I was about a 30-minute walk away from my apartment. From the love of my life. Walking in soaking wet clothes and shoes in the rain is very much uncomfortable, but it had to be done to get back to my life.

           Street after street I grew closer, after some wrong turns and a very nice lady who gave me directions, I was almost home. As I waited at a crosswalk, I heard something being called from across the street. But I ignored it, it was most likely nothing, just a random noise from the city. When the light changed, I heard it again, this time sounding like my name, growing louder. I made it across the street when I heard it clearly, this time I looked to where the sound was coming from. Combing the streets, I saw brown hair, a black long-sleeve, and track pants that fit just right. I started down the sidewalk, tears forming in my eyes, and a smile on my face. His back was to me when I met him, so I ran into him at full force engulfing him in a hug, starting to sob.

           “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was dumb and I know you love me.” He turned in my arms and wrapped his own around me. I looked up, his hair was wet, and his shirt was soaked. Tears fall down his face, his eyes sparkling. I raised a hand to his cheek, he pressed into the warmth, and I wiped away a tear, only for it to be replaced by the rain.

           “I’m so, so sorry, Johnny.” He took my hand and kissed my palm. “I-I was being selfish and I didn’t see all that you did for me. Can you forgive me?”

           “Always, Baby. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t loved, because I love you so much, and my heart broke when you said that.” He dropped his head into my neck as his shoulders shook with tears, his hands gripping the back of my shirt like I was going to disappear from his hold. “I let you down, you didn’t feel loved when all you were doing was giving me love. I wasn’t doing-I wasn’t being enough for you. I’m sorry.” He broke down, he’s sobs echoing into the night. We stayed like that, in the rain, until he started to hiccup, my hands soothing up and down his back when he calmed down. I took his face back into my hands and raised him so he could face me.

           “Look at me, Handsome. Please look at me.” When he opened his eyes, they were sparkling and red. I brushed his wet hair out of his face and put a smile on mine.

           “Johnny, you are enough for me. Mornings with breakfast in bed, surprise flowers when you’re away, lunches when your home, dances in the living room. You show me your love, and I appreciate everything you do for me.” I reach up to place kisses all over his face, making sure to cover every inch, I wanted him to feel my love.

           Here we stood, in the rain, in the middle of the city, staring into each other’s eyes. His hand raises up to hold my face, and I hold my breath. He leans in, slowly I close the gap. I melt into him; his lips were soft against mine—there was no rush. We broke apart, with rain falling onto us, I break away from his arms, grabbed his hand and walked towards the apartment. In the light of the city, hand in hand, we felt the love for each other again—in that moment he became my everything, and I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Wander v.

           The night was full of life during the walk we took in through the city. Lights glowing, shinning onto his beautiful face; with our hands entwined we made our way to some unknown destination. Papaya Acres Café. I laughed as I saw the café.

           “Do you remember that day? The one where we met? I was a mess; I was surprised that you even had the balls to ask me out on a date after I rubbed my snot into your sweatshirt.” In the moment, it was probably one of the most embarrassing times of my life. Now, it is a funny memory that gets laughs when we tell people how we met.

           “Of course, I did! It’s not every day you bump into an angel and make them cry, so I had to do something to make you smile again.” His hand squeezed mine as we entered the café, the bell chimed as he held the door open.

           “Why, thank you, kind sir.” A curtsy.

           “The pleasure is mine, my lady.” A bow. Followed by giggles.

           “Welcome to Papaya Acres. What can I get for you?”

           “Handsome, I’m going to the bathroom. Order for me?” With a nod, I turned and went into the bathroom. Soft jazz played through the green tiled room as I entered a stall. I wrung my hands into a paper towel and headed back into the café. Johnny was sitting at a table near the pick-up counter. My chaired squeaked when I pulled it back; wincing, I sat down.

           “I missed you.” His lips pouted, face sitting in his hands, eyes soft.

           “I was gone for like three minutes, Loser.” I laughed out.

           “I always miss you when you aren’t around.” I pulled one of his hands from his face and held it in my own, comparing the size difference. I hummed as I laced our fingers together.

           “I missed you too.” A playful smile appeared on my lips.

           “Here is your order.” I looked over and saw three cups? Huh, that’s weird. Maybe Johnny wanted to try a new drink or something.

           “Thank you. Have a good night.” He got up to pick up the drink tray, and I waited for him in the middle of the café. My hand got cold when he passed me my drink—I drink iced coffee, no matter the seasons—and his were now full with his two drinks. Putting my drink near his face, he took a sip from the yellow straw, humming in delight when he pulled away.

           “You got two drinks? What kind did you get?” When he told me, neither of which was something that I was going to try; when one of us orders something, the other automatically gets to have a taste of it, it’s a rule we made after many meals were pouted over because no one would share.

           Walking through the park down the street from the café, arms bumping as our laughs reverberated on the trees and buildings around us.

           “My dad knew I liked beans. So, he was like playing with beans. Then he dropped it, and then he dropped a rock. And then it slid, and then hot water started falling. And then, coffee.”

           “You actually think I believe that? Johnny, I’m not Mark.” I chuckled.

           “Hey, don’t be mean to Mark.” He chuckled back. He walked over to a trash can and tossed mine and the cup he had been nursing away, leaving the untouched cup in his grasp. He, now having a free hand, connected in the middle, brought our clasped hands to his face and placed a gentle kiss on my knuckles, his fingers running over my ring finger—something he had only started doing recently, but I paid no mind. I looked at his face, and he wore a serious expression—his thinking face: eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed.

           “What are you thinking about, my love?” My free hand brushing away some hair that had fallen into his eyes. He sighed; a small smile played on his lips.

           “I was thinking about how it would look if you had a ring right here.” He pressed on my ring finger. I laughed with a smile. He looked at me with wide eyes; I looked at the cup in his hand, he was shaking.

           “Johnny? Honey, you’re shaking. Are you ok?” My hands cupping his face now, I searched for the reason for his sudden nerves. His eyes snap to mine as he takes my hands off his face, and he steps away. My heart is now in my throat, as my mind races to find out what was causing his anxiety. My hand, acting on its own, reaches out for him, but he only laughs with his head down.

           “You are truly something different, you know? You are the reason I get out of bed now; there are days when I don’t want to go to work, days were I just want to give up, but then there you are with your cute little texts, cheering me on, notes left from the last time you were at the dorm. When practice runs long and I can’t give anymore, you pop into my head, and then I remember that tonight you are waiting for me to come home—so I push ten times harder.” He cleared his throat, and shook the cup in his hands, a dull rattle followed. He swallowed. “I know it isn’t easy being in a relationship with me, the dates, the secrecy, but you are always there.” He brought his hand up to push away hair that wasn’t there. “God, this is hard.” He whispered, his hand moving to run down his face.

           “What’s hard?” He looks at me. He shook the cup again; the same rattle came from within it.

           “I want you to be there.”

           “What? I’m right here, Baby.” Now it was my turn to furrow my brows—in confusion.

           “I want you to be with me. For as long as you’ll let me. I want to grow old with you; have kids, have a family—maybe a dog. I want to dance with you in our home when we have gray hair and wrinkles.” I get it now. He chuckles. “You are so beautiful, and I just want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to make breakfast with you, I want to go grocery shopping with you, I want to do puzzles with you—”

           “I hate puzzles, Loser.”

           “That’s beside the point, don’t interrupt—it’s rude. Where was I?” The rattle started again.

           “You were listing things you wanted to do with me.”

           “Oh, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I want to sit with you in the living room and just spend the day reading, I want to take you out and have photoshoots that I can post for everyone to see. I want you, Baby. I’ve never wanted anything so much.” I smile and move to close the distance.

            “Johnny Suh, are you asking me to marry you?” A rattle.

            “Well, duh. But now you ruined it.” He whined.

            “I didn’t ruin anything. Now, go ahead and ask me. Should I practice my surprised face first? Hold on, I need to warm up.” I started pulling faces with different sound effects and hand motions. He let out a long whine and stamped his feet a little.

           “Stop,” He drug out, “This is serious.” I cleared my throat, wiped my hands on my legs, and pushed my hair out of my face.

           “Of course,” Serious face, “Continue.”

           “I love you with my whole heart, you never stop running through my mind, you are magnetic. And I can’t help but to be draw to you.” He popped the lid on the coffee cup and stuck his hand in, pulling something into his fist. Then he got down on one knee. “My love. Will you marry me?”

           Remember when I said I don’t cry in public? Not only has this man made me a liar not once, or twice, but now three times. I guess, you could say that I wanted to make him sweat a little bit.

           “Let me see…” I tapped a finger on my chin as I began to walk around him. Adding to the act, I hummed and muttered, nodding, and shaking my head. When I got in front of him, I covered his hands in mine and stared into his eyes.

           “Of course.” I whispered. He jumped up, picked me up and spun me around. When he set me down, he took my hand and slipped the ring onto my finger. He kissed the ring, then me. There we were, in the park at 10 p.m., with our love in the air.

           “I love you.” Were the words we whispered for the rest of our lives.

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

Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought!

I could possibly be interested in writing more of these if you guys like, doesn’t matter the length, member, or group. Just send in a word or words, member/group, and if you want it angsty or fluffly!

Thank you again!

[furyfought]

abernathy is a small town, surely you’ve met AGATHA KLEIN ; they can be a little IRREVERENT & OPPORTUNISTIC but have no fear , the TWENTY SEVEN year old definitely makes up for it by being IMPISH & SENSITIVE . most of the time anyway .  they’re usually seen around KLEIN & ASSOCIATES, LLC , as a CRIMINAL DEFENSE ATTORNEY . you know, i hear they’re affiliated with the local mc, iron kings as an ATTORNEY . they’ve got this vibe of A HEART GROWN RAVENOUS, A CYANIDE CENTER ENCAPSULATED BY SACCHARINE FRUIT, AND A SOUL IN THE FORM OF A SCRIBBLE WITH FANGS going on , makes them easily recognizable.

loosely inspired by jennifer check (jennifer's body), wendy byrde (ozark), ginger fitzgerald (ginger snaps), elizabeth sloane (miss sloane), john silver (black sails), & BBHMM.

+ pinterest, stats.

hey, friends. i’m devin (or dev) & very tickled to be here. agatha’s a combination of two of my favorite muses, and i can only hope that you’ll love her as much as i do. 🤎

"𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒. 𝐍𝐎. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓."

agatha’s story isn’t one that she likes to tell anymore. she feels it’s useless: to be defined by the actions of others, to attempt to battle the preconceived notions that run rampant regardless of what one says or does. she doesn’t want to beg for understanding anymore, or to claw her way from beneath the filth she’s made of her life. all that most know is all that she can bear to have known. the rest? it’s confetti; a meager concession in a game of chess. if you know her, is that a fact or a weapon to be used against her?

when it comes to the stories that can be told, however.. perhaps the most important is background. agatha’s an abernathy native: raised in grandiose park, flew the coop for college, only to settle back down in bordeaux apartments. klein & associates, llc. has been in her family for generations, each forefather serving increasingly questionable clients. agatha’s life, like that of many kleins before her, was already planned before she’d ever even been a thought in her parents’ minds. under her mother’s rule, there wasn’t any room for straying from that path. agatha would be smart; she would be clean; and she would be, without fail, someone. in other words, she would be her perfect replica. imagine the disappointment when agatha was anything but. 

agatha’s childhood can be summed up by three things: a door slammed shut in her face, an ear-piercing howl, and the chronic longing to go home — wherever that was. it’s another thing she doesn’t talk about, another thing she tries not to think about. those three things have followed her into adulthood, but they’ve taken different forms now. no longer is agatha a child screaming her throat raw — no; now, she cries out in other more productive ways. if you were to ask her, she’d tell you that she’s a woman grown; the past is behind her, buried in the sand where it belongs. the truth is trickier, less absolute. agatha is a child in the form of a woman; forever in the midst of a metamorphosis, unsure if for better or worse. she lacks foresight & lives largely in the now. she can’t imagine a future for herself and her choices in life reflect that.

agatha succeeds because she’s pretty, powerful, and convincing. wherever she falls short, her father is sure to more than make up for it. it’s amazing what people will do for the right price, and when they want to keep certain secrets from ever seeing the light. nepotism & immense privilege have done wonders for her, but she does.. actually work hard, too. she has an incredible memory & is really good at digging for more information & making her case. if she tells you that she’s going to do something, then she’s going to do it right no matter what. she’s dogged in that way, blinded to the outside world by her stubbornness. she works long hours & values her career above all else. she thinks it’s the only sure thing she has & views it as the one stable, secure thing in her life.

agatha is lonely to the point of defect. she lacks a sense of security in her life, which is why she’s so career-focused. she genuinely thinks that the only person ever looking out for her is her dad. she becomes very predictable once you realize that she will always pick the winning team; that she will forever follow the money; and that she is always going to make the decision that most benefits her. that isn’t to say that she doesn’t have any friends omg, but.. she doesn’t really trust easily. if she trusts you and considers you near and dear to her heart, then she’ll choose you. but until she has that reassurance? you’re on your own, bro. 

but like.. you literally would not know that unless you got burned by her. agatha is really good at listening and really good at playing parts for people. the thing with having no story is that she’s free to create her own. if you need a hero, she can be that. if you need a villain, she can definitely be that. she’s eerily good at getting chummy enough to make people think she’s close, only for them to realize.. they don’t actually know anything real about her? fun stuff. 

i think.. her entire life is a vie for power while also wanting to let go of that desire while also being afraid of what might happen if she were to let go of that desire. she’s not tht bad. she can play decent, be a guy’s guy. and she does come off tht way. it’s jus.. underneath there’s tht like .. tht rot tht she can’t scrub away. n it rears its ugly little head smtimes. but. :^) she can be cool n shoot the shit u kno.. heheh.

anyway.. lighter stuff<3 puts the gaslight and gatekeep in girlboss. talks just like her daddy, except for when she’s in the courtroom. egocentric without ever meaning to be. (spoiler: it’s a smoke screen.) she can, must, and will find a way to twist your words into something she can make sense of. believes in mixed drink supremacy. will absolutely smoke all of your weed + play dumb about hogging the blunt. plays dumb a lot actually, until it’s time to be smart. she’s touchy-feely, but freezes up whenever someone touches her. stares — a lot. can’t ever be the person to pick you up after a rough night out, because she’s likely there with you egging you on to do one more shot. every event is a tits out event / she has to be the most overdressed person in the convenience store at all times. can, must, and will be your unsolicited sugar momma. YOU SPIL-DBFDHFDJHBF LIPSTICK IN MY VALENTINO WHITE BAG? energy. thinks everything is a competition because it is. if she loved you once then she loves you forever. thinks going 20 over the speed limit isn’t speeding, actually. a bit of an emotional anarchist. can’t actually take what she’ll dish out. teases u if she likes u. teases u if she doesn’t like u. doesn’t care abt the feud as long as she’s gettin’ tht shmoney. big fan of an emotional sucker punch. 

"𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋."  + below are some ideas open to any & all muses no matter the age, gender, affiliation, etc !

i’ve left how she got involved with the mc totally absent from this intro bc i was hoping to plot it out! i’d love it if someone wanted to be her “in”. could be they were a childhood friend in need of help, a client she got close to, jus smth tht happened by chance.. whtever we come up with works! <3

if anyone needs an evil ex gf .. She’s Here. she will lie, cheat, scam, trash yr car, empty yr bank account.. whtvr you need, baybee<3

conversely.. not-so-evil ex gf? agatha can be nice & caring without there being a catch sometimes. maybe they still talk. maybe they’re friends. u tell me.

fwb / ex fwb? she do be sending them ‘u up?’ texts. 

someone tht agatha only got close to bc she wanted them to testify/be a character witness in court oopz<3

omg actual friends pls.. ppl tht Know her. tht See her. ppl tht she cares abt n would actually do anything for. friends!!!!!!!!!!!!

agatha has “get off my lawn” energy so i think it would be very funnie if someone needed a place to crash n she let them stay at hers thinking it was temporary n then they jus.. did not leave. n she’s like 🤨 hello?

an almost smth? anything weird n awkward n unspoken tht maybe fizzled out or maybe still lingers under the surface?

agatha doesn’t have a budding drinking problem but if she does no she doesn’t but if she does then<3 drinking buddy? someone that she’s gotten into questionable shenanigans with? poor bartender tht has to deal w her trying to “help” them as she waits for her uber to come? the possibilities are endless.

agatha’s all bark n very little bite but i still think it’d be funnie if she had a hateship. jus putting tht out there<3

if yr muse wnts an ego boost via unrequited crush.. lmk. i’m willing to hulk smash all of agatha’s dignity jus for u.

omggg a dealer? >.> who said tht omg #hacked.. 

on n off again thingz? lorde wrote tht "i am my mother's child i'll love you til my breathing stops / i'll love you till you call the cops on me" line abt her</3

budding friendships!!!!!!! ppl tht she goes to pilates or yoga with; people she gets brunch with; ppl she keeps running into n its like heeey u :); little platonic crushes jus . all of the cute platonic thingz tht make her go wtf is this 🤨. 

i mean.. if anyone wants a sugar momma.. I MEANNN..

college friends!! law school friends!! ppl she met over the summer while interning somewhere!! i left tht purposely vague, hint-hint.

tinder dates gone wrong. ghosted tinder dates. tinder thingz.

agatha’s been attending galas / banquets / office partiez for ages now so if anyone wants to be her plus one or her lil fake date... :^) could be cute. cld be angsty. world is our oyster. 

speaking of which.. coworkers n maybe even a lil personal assistant would be so sexie.

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

So, It’s been awhile. There’s a reason. The last week or so has been... a week. jesus christ. I shall regale you of my tale, not in chronological order necessarily because that’s how I roll. BUT if you suffer through it, you shall be rewarded with an outdoor plant update post after. Bribery. 

So. Early last week, The Spawn sat down with me and presented a proposal, a well researched proposal, advocating for her starting her own residential cleaning business because she finds it incredibly satisfying and relaxing to clean stuff and she does quite well. So we sat and brainstormed, researched, and talked about how she planned to advertise. She needed a business gmail (and all the tools that come with that), logo, business social media, website, and flyers. 

Being her age, she doesn’t have the skill or knowledge to do these things. So, I volunteered to help with these things so that she didn’t have to spend money hiring someone. I created the email account, put all the brainstorm stuff into a google doc that saved to the biz drive, which included a to do list and the basic info needed. I created a logo. (At which point, she called me a wizard while watching me do so.) I helped her try to create a biz facebook account, but facebook immediately flagged it as breaking the rules. like literally as soon as I created it. So I appealed it & The Spawn wanted to wait to see what came of that before I went further. So she took me with her to shop for the things on her supply list, and we decided to go grab some of the smaller stuff still needed for J’s appt at the same time. This was Friday. 

Saturday, I got a text from J in the early afternoon saying that he needed me. I quickly packed a ‘just in case’ bag, since I didn’t know what to expect or how long I would be there. Now, you have to understand that in the 7 years we’ve been friends, while he has discussed things with me via phone or text, in person he is like me, incredibly stoic. Hell even via text or phone, he always insists that he’s fine and responds to my reminders that i’m here if he needs someone, and to just let me know, he responds “I appreciate it, but I won’t”. So him reaching out like that is a MASSIVE thing. I showed up, let myself in, and he just walked up to me, wrapped his arms around me and started sobbing. I stayed the night, alternating between being comforting and being distracting. It was extremely disarming to see such raw emotion from him repeatedly over the course of the night and to hear him say the things that he is usually uncomfortable articulating. 

The next morning he seemed better, thanked me for coming (to which I responded “Of course I came. I’ve not ever been lying when I’ve said that I’d come if you needed me, day or night, but you have to let me know.”) and apologized for ‘being a mess’. I told him every time he apologized (which happened quite a bit over the course of the night) that there was no need for an apology because this wasn’t something to be sorry for. He was struggling, as people do, and rather than embrace the darkness or fight it alone, he asked for help from someone he trusts and loves that he knows reciprocates. That i know how hard it is for him to do that and that I am proud of him. 

Sunday afternoon the kids (The Spawn and The Bf) picked me up because she needed to take him home but didn’t want to leave the dogs alone. I got in the car after The Bf got into the back, insisting I take the front seat. We hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot of the apartment complex when The Spawn casually asked “So are ya’ll fucking?” 

that’s how I learned that I was the subject of a bet. Apparently, The Bf asked where I was when he came over and out of convenience, not wanting to really explain the relationship, The Spawn said I was at my boyfriend’s. I guess he went on about how how come I’m never hanging out with him, etc, so The Spawn explained the actual nature of our relationship. At the end The Bf said “Nah, they fuckin’ but your mom isn’t telling you.” The Spawn said, “No, she’d tell me because when I started high school I asked her about her past encounters and asked about what stuff was, if she’d done it, and if she enjoyed it, and she was always honest with me. That’s how I know she likes it up the butt.” He insisted that J and I were banging so The Spawn, knowing the truth, took advantage of this and made a bet. It was an easy win for her. SO...

I get asked this question & I look at her, eyebrows raised because she knows how our relationship is (granted if I were physically able and he was willing, I would definitely jump back up on that horse) and said, “No. Mom is no longer physically capable of fucking without risk of severe injury. Plus, despite having ridden that horse previously, I’m not into endangering our besties status. I would go into further detail and commentary but I don’t want to make The Bf uncomfortable. These are things you know, so why do you ask?” She told me of the bet, Then i promptly text J about it because I knew he’d get a laugh out of it. And I was right. 

By the end of Sunday, she recieved an email stating that facebook was upholding the ban, so she and I talked and decided to make a webpage via WIX and after getting a few clients, she could upgrade her account with them to get extras that are offered, including her own domain (rather than the name.wix address) and a lack of wix ads on her page.  And then it all went downhill from there.

Monday through Wednesday (yesterday) had The Spawn breathing down my neck more than any boss I’ve ever fucking had about when her business shit would be done. On top of what I’d already done, between Monday and Wednesday I:   set up her google voice account for a business number, wrote her a “first time client” script, created a google sheets quick reference client database, created a google forms for detailed client records (all in a folder together that is searchable by client name, which would be the title of the form), set up the calendar, downloaded and edited/collaged her before and after photos she took via cleaning some of our spaces, and built her a 7 page website including the photos, facts, and little blurbs that go along with it. It went live at the end of yesterday. 

Throughout this process, rather than just checking in and thanking me for doing it all to save her money, she asked me every couple hours what still needed to be done. When I was not as far along as she felt I should be, she got progressively more hostile. Yesterday morning she had the balls to text me “What all do we still need to do before I can get rolling?” I responded with “ ‘We’? hahahahaha *I* still need to [list].” 

I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “Am I missing something? Did you forget to list something in the list of stuff you did between Monday and Wednesday? You mentioned flyers....” You are correct. But yesterday while I was being driven to my 2nd vax appointment by my father, I basically told him that I’m fried. If a flyer just included facts, I’d be fine, but the part where I need the potential customers to be drawn in and want to learn more is not happening. The creative well has run dry to the point that it is reminiscent of the dust bowl. And I reminded him that there is a reason I no longer do this type of shit for a living. I mentioned that thinking about The Spawn’s company is making me stress puke and that any time The Spawn approaches me to talk about anything, I immediately feel incredibly nauseated. 

Now it should be noted that when I mentioned this in a multi paragraph text earlier, he responded with “Just take a step back from it for awhile, then go back to it.”    

and everyone wonders why on earth I don’t speak up when I hit my limits and why I just push onward despite the damage it does to me. THIS. THIS IS WHY. Everyone is all for me not pushing myself too hard... until it is inconvenient for them. So I basically screamed in the car. On the way back he said he’d help. Ok. cool. 

Except that every fucking idea he had legit just tripled the amount of work I was going to have to do. I mentioned being burned enough that I was considering just paying a freelancer to do it. This motherfucker chimes in with “Oh! [Cool Ex Employee Who Left to be a Stay at Home Mom with her First Baby] does stuff like that. Let me reach out to see if she’d be willing to.” BRUH. That should have been the first thing out of your mouth after my original texts! Jesus Christ. I agreed but with the caveat that HE had to tell The Spawn and say it was his idea because he sees me getting overly stressed and has put his foot down. And he had to do it that night because I knew that if he didn’t, the first thing I’d hear today was “So when are my flyers going to be done?” and I am absolutely not dealing with that shit. The only thing I am doing from this point forward is showing her how to use her database/client files/calendar and I will be happy to answer questions or give advice, but that’s it. This isn’t my company and I’m not employed by her, so I’ve already put in far more work than should have been expected of me, with very little thanks outside of after I finished her logo and a couple times she came down and watched, then told me I’m a fucking wizard. 

Really It was good in a way because I had been doing that thing lately where I wonder if I’m just being dramatic because admin type stuff isn’t that hard and if I could do it from home, I should be able to manage... but this put me back down on earth, where I absolutely am not being dramatic and I cannot fucking do that shit 40 hrs a week for some random asshole. Shit, this was for my own child and I was ready to give up, stab her, then tell her to go fuck herself.

so...that’s been my last week and a half for so. Also, my only side effects from Vax 2 (pfizer) is feeling more tired/run down than usual and a bit of extra joint pain... but those might actually be related to the stress and hell I just went through. who knows. 

as always, don’t steal my shitshow. get your own shitshow. suffer through your own crap. 

[prettymuchdolansbitch]

Her | Pt. 2 (Nick Mara)

Nick’s POV:

As I opened the door, I saw Y/N pulling out of the driveway. “Wait!” I screamed and ran towards the gate in nothing but sweats. I saw her car go even faster down the street. “Fuck!” I screamed and slammed on the gate.

Dogs began barking and I ran inside the house looking for my phone. “Fuck! Where is it?!” I screamed at the couch. As I began flipping cushions over, Ed came out yawning.

“What’re you looking for?” He asked. “I need my phone. And i was so drunk last night that i don’t remember where i put it, or what I said to make Y/n livid.” I laid down on the floor searching under the couch.

“Wait what?” Ed said scratching his head. “Dude just help me find my phone and i’ll explain while i text y/n” I ran to my room with Ed following. Ed grabbed the pair of jeans that were neatly folded on my console desk. My phone fell out from the folding along with my wallet and keys.

“Oh thank god.” I snatched up my phone and sat down. Ed sat on the edge of my bed waiting for an explanation of what happened. I texted y/n quickly asking if we can talk. when she didn’t answer, i figured she’s still driving. i type a quick “just lmk when you’re home safe” I put my phone away and see Ed staring at me.

“she asked- well stated that i said that i’m still in love with Alexys. I fucked up and said we were together for a while. Like she can’t blame me. right?” I asked while biting my nails. A habit I knew y/n hated.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re fucked. Her asking was your chance to possibly save yourself depending on what route Y/n was taking.” Ed said and stood up. “Listen. Y/n’s chill. Just give her a little bit of time. Don’t force her to talk yet. Too many emotions are present right now..” Ed walked out of the room. I sat there with my phone waiting for a response from her.

Y/N’s POV:

I got home in less than 20 minutes. Usually it’s a good 40 minutes to get to my house, but i didn’t feel like being outside anymore. As soon as you saw the texts from Nick, you decide to shut your phone off for the day. You didn’t want to communicate with anyone right now.

After a binging session on Netflix, you get bored of it. You look outside and realize the sun is already about to set. You open your drawer next to your bed and pull out your bong and your bag of weed. You open your balcony door and sit in your hanging chair. You set everything up and see the sun is going down. You turned your phone on for the first time all day. A bunch of notifications popped up but you ignored it and played your music. After each hit, you immediately feel all emotion leave your body.

Nick on the other hand was a mess. Ed has warned everyone what happened. Zion tried making him play basketball, but he refused to get out of bed. Brandon needed him in the home studio for a song he was working on. Usually Nick would do it no questions asked, but he didn’t even answer the door for Brandon. Austin offered to cook for him. He didn’t even feel an ounce of hunger.

Nick would go in and out of sleep. When he was awake, he was just staring at his phone waiting for some sort of response or update from you. He knew he didn’t even deserve that considering he broke your heart; not the other way around.

Nick shot up as he got a notification you posted on your snapchat story. He opened it immediately and saw that you were home, smoking. Nick felt a sudden burst of confidence and swiped up. “So you can post but not answer my texts?” He sent it without re-thinking what he was saying.

You weren’t surprised when you saw Nick had messaged you seconds after you posted. You swiped to see what he said, but not all the way so he doesn’t know you read it.

You wanted to laugh. You couldn’t believe what you were reading. “This kid has the audacity to even give me the slightest bit of attitude.” You thought to yourself.

You weren’t going to ruin your high with his bullshit. You were of course sad because you love the kid. But you’re so close to losing it at the same time. You block him on everything. He had no chance of reaching you.

2 weeks later

The first couple days after the breakup, Nick moped around the house. He’s now just getting back into the studio and dancing again. Only Brandon and Nick went to the studio as everyone else recorded their parts.

Zion had texted you saying Nick shouldn’t be home for the day and you can pick up your stuff. As Brandon was playing the soundtrack back for Nick to hear, he got caught up in his phone. Zion was texting Brandon updates and how long they have to keep Nick in the studio.

Nick notices Brandon’s typing a lot and tries to get his attention. Brandon snapped out of his trance and tries to avoid Nick’s glare. “What’s got you so worked up?” Nick said pausing the music.

“Don’t get mad. Um.. Y/n’s at the house getting all her stuff..” Nick’s eyes bugged out. “SHES WHAT?! I need to go. I need to talk to her.” Nick began running around gathering his stuff. “Nick i don’t think that’s a good idea. I-“ “Brandon please. I never even got the chance to even try and apologize. I just need to talk to her” Nick was about to run out the door.

“She doesn’t want to see you!” Brandon yelled before Nick fully got out the door. Nick turned and saw Brandon now standing up. “She told us. She is really done, she’s moving back up near her mom in San Francisco” Brandon said not daring to look at Nick, who must be livid.

“And you guys hid that from me?! Whatever. Just I at least need to try. Because if I don’t, then.. then I’ll probably hate myself more than she already does.” Nick ran out and conveniently there was a cab out front.

Nick jumped in and told the guy the address to the house. Before the driver drove off, the door opened again. “Sorry man. I got you on the extra tip.” Brandon said settling in. “Dude why are you here” Nick said. “Well, i’m not gonna leave you alone. and you left your wallet in the studio.” Brandon handed him the wallet and they both stared out the window.

You were in Nick’s room searching for anything that was yours. You had a box full of his stuff and just left it in front of the closet. Zion sat in Nick’s chair and watched as you packed everything.

“So this is it? We’re never gonna see you again?” You laughed. “I’ll come back soon. Just I can’t be in the same vicinity right now.” You saw your necklace on the dresser in the same spot you left it. You sighed. “I think that’s it.” You looked away and gathered whatever you had.

Zion walked you to the door. Ed and Austin were standing at the door as well. “We’ll miss you.” Austin said hugging you. “You guys aren’t gonna make this easy huh.” “Nope” Ed said hugging you. “Bye guys. Thanks for this, again” Zion opened the door for you and you saw a cab pull in behind your car.

“Seriously!” You yelled before seeing the back door open. Nick’s head popped out. The car was close enough so you could hear what he said to the driver.

“Just keep it running, and do not move. You move, she leaves alright?” The guy shrugged and put the car in park.

At this point you’re at your car and everyone’s outside. The boys are standing at the door and Brandon is by the cab.

“Just give me a chance to talk. I mean you have to now, you have no way out.” You rolled your eyes. “I can easily just drive through your fence if I please” You smile and go to put your stuff in your trunk. Nick stops you from moving.

“You can, but you want to listen. If you didn’t, i know you’d be through the fence already.” Nick said and he was right. “You have 5 minutes.”

“Fine. You gotta believe me, I know i fucked up and i am so so sorry. I am in love with you. I literally can’t live without you. You can ask all of them. Today was my first good day in weeks.” You looked over at the guys and they all nodded. “And why ‘was’ it your first good day. It’s only 3 in the afternoon.” You crossed your arms.

“Because there’s a chance today might be the day i lose you completely.” You finally looked into his eyes to see if there was any sense of a lie. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes so gentle and hopeful.

“Just one more shot. And if i ever fuck up again, which will probably be never, I’ll let you go as you wish.” He was practically begging. You sighed. You nodded.

“A nod? What does that mean? What does that-“ Nick said slowly freaking out. “You got your shot” You pout jokingly. Nick picked you up and spun you around. The guys started cheering around you. “Oh stop. But i’m still moving. If you really want to see me, you’ll drive” You laugh.

“Baby, I’d walk to SanFran if i want to see you.” You shook your head and hugged him. He kissed your head and rested his chin on your head. You came back to your senses after all the butterflies had settled. You punched Nick in the gut and he fell to the floor.

“That’s for breaking me. But we’re even now” You laugh as you help him up. “Fair enough.” Nick paid the guy and he drove off right away probably annoyed Nick wasted his time. He wasn’t wrong though, if there was no car in the way, you would’ve left.

“Thank you y/n. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” Nick whispered so that only you could hear. You were skeptical, but happy to have him back in your arms.

[obsessedwithbbandsuju]

Forever

*Dialogue Prompt #3 for @2ya2yao​‘s Super Junior Prompt Fic Challenge

Well. If someone asked him, he would insist that it wasn’t mischief. It was for science, and his girlfriend was the subject.

Pairing: Park Jungsoo/Son Taeyeon

jagi: a Korean word that can be used to refer to one’s significant other

___   

The name Leeteuk wasn’t really associated with mischief in the idol world. Leeteuk was supposed to be the responsible leader of Super Junior, the tired mother who did his very best to keep a merry gang of crazy men sufficiently under control. And in some ways, Jungsoo knew, that was who Leeteuk was. But Leeteuk could also be mischievous, and right now Jungsoo was up to some mischief.

Well. If someone asked him, he would insist that it wasn’t mischief. It was for science, and his girlfriend was the subject.

Taeyeon was notorious for being good at, well… everything. Not only musically – though certainly that too – but athletically, linguistically, academically, practically, socially – he didn’t have the time on his hands to name it all. Not once had he seen her fail, or even so much as rattled.

And Jungsoo loved how capable she was. He did. But she had to have some weakness, right? It just wasn’t plausible that a human being could be such a natural in every field. There had to be something, and he was determined to find out what it was.

~

“Come on, jagi,” he whined into the cell phone, throwing in the jagi, a word he rarely used, to let her know how desperate he was. “I have to go soon, and Shimkoong is absolutely refusing to go where I usually leave her when I’m away. I don’t know who else to count on. Please?”

“Okay, okay. You always know how to get what you want.” On the other end of the line, there was amusement in Taeyeon’s voice as she accepted his request. Jungsoo gave a mental shout of triumph. “Thanks, Taeyeon. I’ll have her over soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” The sincerity that rang when she said those words warmed his heart, distracting him from his plotting, even for just that second.

Once she’d hung up, he scooped his dog into his arms and gotten into his manager’s car, asking him to head quickly to Taeyeon’s apartment before they arrived at the filming location. Usually they stayed together in his place, but with both of their schedules packed for most of the days of the current month, they’d decided it might be more convenient to stay apart from some time so the all the chaos didn’t clash in one apartment.

At his girlfriend’s place, Jungsoo watched Shimkoong intently as he handed her over to Taeyeon, who stroked the dog’s head and cooed. Shimkoong tended to get rather cranky in unfamiliar places, especially when he wasn’t around, and when she got cranky she could keep it up for several days at time, running around and barking and refusing to listen – which was what he was counting on. He thanked Taeyeon one more time with a kiss on the forehead, to which she laughed and swatted him away playfully. Before he left for the broadcast he was filming that day, though, she still sent him off with a kiss on the lips (since he insisted) and a “good luck”.

The filming took the better part of the day, and they paused in between only for a thirty-minute lunch break and forty-five-minute dinner break. By the time he was finished, Jungsoo was exhausted, but there was one thought that kept energy coursing through his body. He headed over to Taeyeon’s apartment, fully expecting to arrive to a relentless Shimkoong scampering around, barking up a storm, and an annoyed girlfriend. But when he walked in through the door, he saw his dog running up to him happily, wagging her tail. Trailing behind her came Taeyeon, looking calm and collected as ever. She shot him a smile, almost like she knew what his scheme was.

Jungsoo pouted.

~

Jungsoo stared at the instruction booklet in his hand and then back at the scattered parts of the new computer he had bought and was trying to assemble. He’d made some progress, but the pieces were still far from a working device, and he couldn’t help feeling that this was his limit; he had had yet another filming for another variety show earlier that day, he was tired and hungry, and the fact that the instruction manual’s font size was probably about five wasn’t helping matters. Huffing through his nose in frustration, he set the booklet down, glaring at the parts in front of him. And then an idea came.

“Taeyeon?” he called. He heard footsteps, and then she appeared from the hallway, her hair tied back messily in a ponytail.

“What is it?” she asked, kneeling next to him and rubbing his back soothingly. Jungsoo was silent for a second, melting into the sensation of her slim fingers against his skin through the thin T-shirt he wore.

Gathering himself, he turned to her with puppy eyes that he reserved only for her sight, probably because they wouldn’t have the slightest millimeter of an effect on the other members. “Do you think you could help me with this?”

Taeyeon glanced down at the mechanical parts strewn across the floor, then at the instruction manual that Jungsoo was still holding. To his surprise, she flashed him a small smile.

“Of course.”

A little restless with anticipation, Jungsoo handed her the manual. She squinted at its text, read one of the lines, stared down at the pieces for a moment, and then got to work.

About an hour later, the computer was put together nicely, its polished black plastic and metal practically glinting under the lights. Jungsoo held down on the power button, and the newly-assembled device turned on without a hitch.

He huffed.

~

When he’d suggested a walk to his girlfriend, this was not what he’d had in mind. He had just wanted a peaceful stroll in the moonlight with Taeyeon and Shimkoong, a chance to unwind after all the hecticness of the past two months. It didn’t seem like much of a request, but apparently the universe had deemed that it was.

Because they’d run into three of the many juvenile delinquents that often roamed the streets of Seoul at night while under the impression that they were grown and could do whatever they wanted. (It was a phase everyone went through in their late teens, though thankfully the majority didn’t let it get so out of hand that they began committing borderline illegal acts.) The kids couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, maybe twenty tops, but they sure had strutted right up to Jungsoo and Taeyeon like they were professional criminals.

Jungsoo calculated in his head the risks. He didn’t really want to run; it would feel silly fleeing from practically children, but getting in a fight didn’t seem very appealing either. Both of them were wearing caps to partially conceal their faces, and the dark was helping, too, but still, the consequences of a celebrity getting in a fight… no, they weren’t worth it.

On her leash, Shimkoong was snarling and barking.

“Cute dog, mister,” the kid in the front, a tall but thin boy with ripped jeans and a black jacket, smirked as he eyed Shimkoong blatantly. Nerves flaring, Jungsoo fought the urge to glare. His eyes flicked sideways toward Taeyeon who had just been standing next to him a second ago, but now she wasn’t there anymore. She’d stepped forward in the path of the delinquents, posture unnervingly relaxed. If Jungsoo was just a passerby he would have thought she was someone who often picked fights on the street, too.

“We’re trying to take a walk, so it would be nice of you to go on your merry way,” she said calmly.

The atmosphere was full of uneasiness; Jungsoo’s muscles were tense, Shimkoong’s fur stood on end, and there was visible aggression in the delinquent’s stare as he looked down at Taeyeon.

Eventually, though, he spat sideways in an attempted show of dominance, saliva flying from his mouth and landing with a splat on the street. Jungsoo fought the urge to wrinkle his nose, and Shimkoong gave a very soft growl. Taeyeon didn’t move.

“Tsk. Whatever, slut.” The delinquent’s voice was somewhere between sullen and purposefully dismissive, like he was trying overly hard to sound though. “Come on, guys. Let’s not waste time on this cuck and his bitch.”

Without another word, the three kids stalked off, glancing back occasionally at Jungsoo and Taeyeon with slight unease as if they were afraid they were going to attack them from behind. Jungsoo couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit of pity; he knew that brash hotheadedness mixed with crippling insecurity and nearly animalistic desire to prove yourself of early adulthood, and it was a no pleasant feeling. But he couldn’t feel any kindlier towards them than that, on account of the slurs their leader had used to refer to Taeyeon. Only once the three of them had vanished from sight from several seconds did he relax.

The entire time, though, Taeyeon hadn’t blinked an eye once (figuratively speaking). Slightly awed at his girlfriend’s composure, Jungsoo threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing. She glanced at him, and it somehow wasn’t a surprise to see her instantly smiling again.

“Doesn’t anything scare you?” He was half-chiding, because he would feel better if she was more cautious, but half-asking, because she legitimately had not seemed fazed.

Taeyeon squeezed his hand back with a shrug. “Plenty of things do, but not a few delinquent kids.”

~

Hyukjae, Donghae, and Ryeowook were fighting. About what, Jungsoo didn’t know. All he knew, or cared to know, was that he, eyelids practically drooping from filming since seven A.M. that morning, was just trying to sleep early for once when he’d been interrupted in his preparations to crash by the sound of the three members’ raised voices.

All of them had moved temporarily back into the dorm recently because they had several group schedules coming up that required long hours of driving and decided it would be more convenient to just go at the same time, rather than every member setting off and arriving at different hours depending on the traffic in their area. On one hand, it was nice because it was nostalgic; it took him back to the time when they were young and vigorous and the burden of their fame hadn’t quite caught up to them yet. On the other hand, Jungsoo felt like he was fucking dying. He’d forgotten how uncontrollable it could get with all of them living in the same space.

A few hours ago, Taeyeon had come over and spent the night at the dorm, eating dinner with them while rolling her eyes several times at the teasing from the other members to keep things private in the bedroom. They did not, in fact, have any intention of doing anything that night, for the sake of being courteous of everyone else, and it would be more than nice enough to fall asleep next to her.

Jungsoo just wished he’d get to lay down in peace.

“What do you mean, me? You’re the one who’s at fault here!” Ryeowook’s shrill voice rang through the dorm. Jungsoo groaned, suppressing the urge to shriek into the pillow. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with this.

Taeyeon must have seen the will to live fading from his eyes, because she sympathetically patted his shoulder. “You okay?”

Jungsoo took another calming breath. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” That was one way to put it. A more accurate way would be “I’m just done with this bullshit” or something along those lines, but he restrained himself.

“That’s understandable. Go and sleep, I’ll sort everything out,” Taeyeon suggested, giving him a light push toward the bed. Jungsoo sat down on the mattress, pointedly ignoring another bout of loud arguing from outside. “Are you sure?” She should know better than anyone how difficult his members were to deal with.

“It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with how Super Junior works,” she reassured him, amusement in her voice. “I’m still hanging around you people, which means I’m picking up some of your insanity – since that’s the only way to survive around this group.” She wasn’t exactly wrong. Maybe none of them had been exactly normal since the beginning, but being around each other had only amplified the chaos over the years.

“Okay, I’m counting on you then,” Jungsoo said, laying down with a sigh of bliss. She patted his head and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before leaving the room, flicking the light switch off as she did and closing the door tightly. Jungsoo stared after her, wondering how well she would fare.

Miraculously, he drifted off, but the concern over what had become of the argument must have been eating at him more than he realized, because only two hours later, he found himself blinking up into the darkness. It was quiet outside, but a quick glance at the door showed him that the lights of the living room were still on, which meant at least some of the other members were still awake. Taeyeon wasn’t back, either.

Rubbing his eyes, he got up out of the bed and peeked out into the hallway. The way his door was positioned, he had a fairly good view of Hyukjae, Donghae, and Ryeowook sitting together on the sofa, talking quietly but cheerfully. Clearly, they had made up. Perched just a little distance away, watching the three with the expression of a satisfied mother, was Taeyeon.

She was even good at mediating arguments.

~

I give up. Jungsoo was about to admit that he’d lost. Apparently, his girlfriend was just perfect – good at everything on top of being funny and intelligent and beautiful. He was ready to just accept that he’d been lucky enough to somehow snag a superhuman for a partner.

He couldn’t even find anything bad to say about her cleaning, he noted, as he glanced over his shoulder at her, kneeling in a corner and wiping away dust. They had decided they’d spend the day today tidying up his apartment; something that Jungsoo was used to and liked doing, but there was a new kind of enjoyment in it when his girlfriend was there doing it with him.

He was engrossed in wiping down some of the drawers when Taeyeon shrieked – a terrified, shocked, shrill, and entirely alien noise. Alarmed, Jungsoo spun around in her direction to find her staring underneath one of the windowsills with horror in her eyes before she distanced herself from it at the speed of light. Bewildered, he abandoned what he was doing hurried over, wondering what it possibly could be that she’d seen. He had never heard her sound so frightened; she’d hardly even flinched when they were watching The Wailing together, so what could have scared her so badly now, especially in his apartment?

“What is it? Is there something there?”

Taeyeon looked over at him, disgust marring her greyish-hazel eyes. “There’s a spider!”

Jungsoo stopped in his tracks, dumfounded. A spider?

Approaching the windowsill and looking under it, he saw that she was right – there indeed was a tiny, light brown spider there, settled among its webs.

He glanced back at Taeyeon, whose gaze was still fixed under the windowsill like residing there the most monstrous abomination that had ever existed. “Jagi, it’s just a spider.”

“Just a spider?” She sounded practically furious that he’d dared use the word just in reference to a spider; in fact, this might be the most rattled he had ever seen her. “Kill it already!”

Jungsoo chuckled. He couldn’t help it. After all the ridiculous antics he’d done to try and pinpoint anything that might faze his girlfriend, this was it? A tiny spider? Sure, he might not be fond of arachnids, but her visceral reaction was on another level.

“Not funny,” Taeyeon muttered from behind him, flicking him on the back of the head as punishment for his amusement. Jungsoo turned around to face her, unable to stop smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just… I didn’t think a spider would be the thing to crack your composure.”

“Oh, shut up and get rid of it,” she hissed, furrowing her brows at him in displeasure. Obediently, Jungsoo knelt in front of the windowsill and disposed of the spider with a piece of toilet paper. As he stood, he noticed Taeyeon backing up, eyeing the crumpled paper in his hand warily.

“You know a tiny spider can’t hurt you. Especially if it’s dead,” he pointed out.

“It’s not about hurting me,” Taeyeon admitted, her nose wrinkled. “I just hate spiders. They’re… disgusting. Now will you please throw that away?” She had inched further away from him. Well, not him specifically; it was the toilet paper with the squashed spider that held all her animosity.

Ever the dutiful boyfriend, Jungsoo obeyed and made his way to the bathroom, where he flushed the arachnid. As he washed his hands, he glanced at Taeyeon, who had been peeking in to confirm with her own eyes that the spider was long gone. “Better?” he asked, amused.

“Better,” she huffed. “You think this is real amusing, don’t you?” The words were an accusation, but, now that the spider was completely gone, she seemed to have relaxed. There was playfulness in her tone, and she was smiling faintly.

Washing his hands as he formulated a response, Jungsoo decided there was no point in hiding it – she’d already caught on. “It’s just… you always seem to be a natural at everything. For a spider of all things to freak you out so much is funny.”

“Well. I never thought you’d have such a cleaning obsession when I first met you, either,” Taeyeon retorted, but her voice was mild.

“Ouch, low blow. What did you think I’d be like?” Jungsoo challenged as he wiped his hands with the towel. He was genuinely curious; by her own admission she’d been a Super Junior fan since their debut, which meant that she must have known something about him even before they met for the first time during a broadcast. He forgot which one – they’d seen each other several times for business over the years, although it was only in 2014 when she worked with Super Junior for their MAMACITA album that they’d become closer than just acquaintances.

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I thought you’d be more naturally witty. I thought you wouldn’t complain and nag as much as you actually do. I thought you wouldn’t be so awkward when you flirt. I thought you’d give me less cheesy pickup lines.”

“Jagi…” Jungsoo complained.

Smiling, Taeyeon closed the gap between them with a light hop and reached up to take his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss. When she pulled away, Jungsoo flushed, not having expected the sudden display of affection. There were times when his girlfriend could seem slightly detached, but other times, she was touchy-feely like this.

“I love you, Jungsoo,” Taeyeon said simply, dropping all honorifics from his real name in the way that made him shudder a little under her hands. “I love everything that you are. Cheesy pickup lines and all.”

She went to move away, but Jungsoo grasped her shoulders and pulled her to him so their foreheads were touching. She was significantly shorter than him, but the height difference was just suited so that he could look directly into her eyes like this. God, she was beautiful. Almost unconsciously, he brushed his thumb over the soft skin of her face.

“I love you too.” The words were barely a whisper.

With a smile, Taeyeon cupped his face in her hands. “I don’t say this often, but I want to right now,” she said. “I love you, and I’m going to protect you from anything.”

The rush that flooded him made Jungsoo heady and breathless, his veins burning like he was being scorched from the inside out with the heat of his emotion. “For how long?” he murmured, stroking his fingers across her cheek.

“Forever.” She kissed him.

[divineluce]

A Fae-ted Encounter || Athena & Luce

Timing: Monday, September 14th

Location: The woods outside White Crest

Tagging: @athenaquinn & @divineluce

Summary: Athena and Luce meet up for a morning run that quickly goes awry.

Athena had not necessarily expected to hang out with Luce outside of the whole getting a tattoo experience, no matter how much she had found their conversation to be enjoyable. So when Luce had mentioned a love for going for runs, Athena jumped at the chance. She found getting out and exercising to provide a certain thrill only matched by an especially good hunt or a particularly engaging textbook. It was early - just before six a.m., and the smell of the forest was calming. She began to stretch while she waited for Luce - and the feeling of her knives against her hips was comforting, as always. It was the easiest place to keep them during a run, since her running shoes didn’t provide a great deal of coverage. Particularly not as far as weaponry was considered. She had always been one to have a desire to be prepared, and this guaranteed that. Finishing up a second round of stretches, she looked up to see Luce approaching. “Hey! How’s it going this morning? Glad we were able to find the time to go for a run.”

No one ever talked about how much stress fucked with your sleep schedule. Luce was no stranger to sleepless nights, but it seemed like more often than not, she was stuck staring up at the ceiling of her room or drawing designs until her wrists ached and the sun had begun to break through the blinds of her window. Which was why she was going for a run now-- coffee could only do so much and fuck, going for a run with one of the kids she tattooed? She’d done weirder. Parking her 4x4 alongside the road, Luce stretched briefly against the side of her car before jogging towards the place they’d agreed on meeting up. It was a familiar trailhead to her, one of the many she frequented. “It’s going, it’s going. Nothing like a run to get things going though.” Luce said with a nod, tying her long hair back up in a ponytail. “Yeah, for sure. I haven’t run with a partner in a while, so it might take me a minute to match pace.” She warned, and tilted her head at the woods. “Let’s hit the trails, huh?” She grinned before setting off at a light jogging pace, just to get the blood pumping. 

“I agree completely!” Perhaps her voice held just slightly too much enthusiasm, but Athena found that she didn’t care all too much. Not to mention, that sort of behavior was likely exactly what Luce might have expected, given what she did know about her. “Not a worry, I have a few friends I run with sometimes, but I’m flexible.” She flashed the woman a grin, carefully observing her. This was an entirely different context from the last time that the two of them had hung out, and she was curious if Luce’s behavior would change in any way. She didn’t so much mind whether or not it did, she’d found her to be pleasant to talk to both in person and online, and more people to go for runs with was never a bad thing. “Let’s go!” Athena nodded, matching Luce’s pace. “Do you have a favorite trail or spot to go running? I know that I sometimes will change it up, but I think that’s carryover from sometimes not wanting to ever sit still as a kid. As much as I can deeply concentrate, I also have a need to move and see different things. Despite being small, this town does manage to provide that. On a tangential note, I hope we don’t see any moose today. That’s not a fun time on a hike.”

Raising an eyebrow at the girl’s tone, Luce decided to take it in stride. Literally, she grinned to herself at the idea. As they began to run through the woods, she kept her strides nice and measured, really focusing on just letting her muscles move, the blood to flow. It wasn’t as hot as it had been in the middle of July, thank fuck, but her natural body temperature made running in the summer a bitch. As she ran alongside the girl, Luce was reminded why she didn’t typically run with other people. People liked to talk. people liked to chatter and make small talk and she just… didn’t give a shit about it. She barely gave a shit when she was at work. But, hopefully talking more would help her stay awake. “Eh, mostly just the places around my cabin because it was closest and most convenient to me. But, there are a couple places in the national park that are pretty. There’s a cool trail that leads into a whole field of wildflowers-- it’s best in the spring, but still. Not a bad spot year round.” Luce lengthened her stride a bit, picking up the pace as they wound through the woods. “Oh, fuck no. I’m so not down for a moose run in.” She said with a shake of her head. Her silver knuckledusters were tucked into the discreet pocket in the waistband of her leggings, but those wouldn’t be enough to stop a moose, not at all. She’d just be hightailing it up the nearest tree if they ran into one.

She hadn’t doubted the woman when the two of them had discussed going for a run, but Athena was pleased to see that the woman kept up with her - was arguably a better runner than she was in some ways, though she was not too keen to admit that just yet, if at all. “That makes sense. I run on Harris Island a lot too for much of the same reason - it’s home for me, and though not the woods, it does provide wide and open space to go. Though sometimes I go through town.” Sometimes, and she’d run into banshee screams on more than one occasion. She wasn’t going to focus on that right now, though. “That sounds wonderful! Not sure if I’ve been on that trail before, but it sounds like a good place to go.” The two of them continued to make their way through the forest and Athena had to hold back a small giggle at Luce’s remark about the moose. “Though I’m not always opposed to them, they certainly are not on my ‘must see’ list ever.” There was a bit of an incline as the two of them continued through the forest, the morning air cool and calming - which was one of the number of reasons why she enjoyed this time of day as much as she did.

“Harris Island, huh? Too bougie for me.” Luce said, as they continued along the forest trail. Sure, Harris Island was pretty, but she hadn’t been back there since she’d dealt with… August. And Lydia. Her expression turned dour at the memory. That fucking bitch. She’d sworn her to silence about what they’d done, bound her, like she’d bound August. Fuck. “I’m not a big fan of the mega mansions they’ve got chilling out there. The Common’s not a bad place to run around town, though.” She added. As they made their way through the woods, Luce focused on her breathing, making sure to keep it nice and smooth. This particular trail was just a quick 1.5 mile loop, but she was still feeling the effects of her sleepless night. If she’d been in better shape, if she’d been less tired, she might have noticed the rustling in the bushes, the way the birds seem to quiet around them. But, as it was, she just kept running. 

“I mean, I still live with my parents. You are not wrong about it being a bit bougie, though I like being right near the ocean.” Athena shrugged. “I guess I’m used to it too.” She noted Luce’s change in expression and fiddled with the end of her hair for a moment, giving a small murmur of agreement at her words. “Oh yeah, The Common’s great!” When there’s no fae flocking around, but she kept those thoughts to herself. They were making their way steadily around the trail when Athena all of a sudden felt a shiver run up and down her arms as she skidded to a halt. So much for fae not ruining the hike. She turned to look at Luce, before looking back at the bushes, a rustling sound becoming more and more clear before she could spot ears. Shit. “We might have a bit of a problem.” She took in a deep breath, focusing her attention. The iron cold on her hip. 

“Nice. Must be lucky living out home.” Luce remarked, the comment sounding offhand. But, a part of her meant it. The recent wound of her mother, turning her back on the three of them, was still raw, still open and painful. She hated her mother for what she’d done to them, hated her father for never standing up for them, but she couldn’t shake the sadness that came with losing them. She shouldn’t feel so fucked up about it. She didn’t regret what she’d done. She’d done what was right. Even if it came at the cost of unclean hands and of losing the people she loved most. Before she could get too in her feelings about it all, Athena came to an abrupt halt. Taken off guard, Luce stumbled to a stop but managed to right herself. “What? What’s up?” She asked, looking at the trees around them.

“I am lucky, but I also love my family, so I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Athena shrugged. She wouldn’t, would she? Shaking any sort of thought like that out of her mind, she refocused herself on what was actually going on. Namely, the giant gosh darned fae-dog that was just off in the bushes. “Don’t move.” She gave a small nod, the creature standing up now. “It’s a - well. It’s not a normal dog.” Cù-sìth, she thought, her mind whirring as it often did, as she’d been trained to do. “You see that, right? Large dog. Very quiet.” She huffed. It might not be quiet for long. 

“That’s more than fair, for sure.” Luce nodded in agreement. After all, family was why she still lived at Bea’s. She could be back at her cabin, she could be staying there right now in fact. But, since they’d been cast out of the coven… there was a part of her-- a part of her that she refused to show to her sisters-- that wanted to keep what remained of her family close. All of those thoughts were pushed out of her mind at the girl’s words. Scanning the woods around them, Luce’s eyes fell on the giant dog that was lurking in the bushes. It wasn’t a wolf, so not a werewolf, but she wasn’t exactly familiar with every beast that ran around the woods. “Yeah, I see it.” She said, her hands resting on the waistband of her leggings, feeling the curve of the metal tucked in her pocket. “What’s the plan? Back away slowly?”

She didn’t know how much Luce knew. Athena remembered that the woman had grown up in this town, but she also knew that none of that guaranteed knowledge of anything. It made her job both easier and more difficult, but right now she wasn’t going to focus on anything but Luce and getting her to safety. “Good.” She nodded. “That’s - backing away is good, but these - they’re real fast when they want to be. Might not look it, but they are. Can be.” The cold iron of her knife was incredibly appealing but she couldn’t bring it out just yet. “You - we don’t want it to howl.” She whispered to Luce, taking another few steps towards the woman. “That’s not good. It’s - their howls aren’t normal.” She looked over at her. Athena knew that she’d be fine, but as fae as she was aware, Luce wasn’t a warden. “They are not the friendliest of dogs.”

As she stared at the creature, Luce was able to see that there the “dog’s” fur was green, with tufts of what looked like grass sticking out in clumps. “Is there any reason why this thing looks like a Husky fucked a hedge?” She hissed, as she tried to back away from the dog while discreetly pulling the knuckleduster from her pocket. But, her leggings were just a bit too tight and the weapon remained stubbornly tucked in her waistband. Christ. A dummy thicc joke went through her mind briefly, but it was quickly pushed out of her mind as the creature began to stalk towards them, hackles raised. “What do you mean their howls aren’t normal?” She asked, but before the girl could answer, the dog was already opening its mouth, a horrific howl coming from its maw. Instantly, Luce went to her knees, clasping her hands over her ears, but that couldn’t keep the bellowing sound that had already pierced her skull. 

“Because it’s one of the worst kinds of dogs you could ever see.” Athena admittedly had to smirk just slightly at Luce’s comment. Well, if that was anything to go off of, then perhaps she would have an easier time convincing her that this thing would be better off dead. “I mean that -” before she could respond, the creature had howled and though Athena knew it would have no sort of effect on her, Luce wouldn’t be so lucky. “We’ve got ten minutes max until it might howl again. Sometimes - there’s some ways or cases when people die after three howls.” She knew that she was talking faster than normal but she had to get all of the information to Luce as best as she could. “You - it’s going to make you feel afraid, but that’s okay. It’s - well,” she pulled one of her iron daggers out of its resting place against her hip. “I might have a solution. It is the only way to deal with this. It could do a lot of harm to those in town if we let it get away.”

The howl was the worst thing she’d ever heard-- and Luce had sat through more shitty fucking local bands at Soul than she wanted to admit. Fuck. It was as though her blood had gone cold, while at the same time, her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her goddamn chest. Fear, the overwhelming sensation of dread, of terror, of the urge to run as fast and as far as her feet could take her from that thing filled her chest. “F-Fuck!” Luce managed as her hands fell to the earth, clawing at the dirt. Heart pounding, eyes daring wildly, she stared up at the girl with unseeing eyes, too overwhelmed by sheer terror to do much more than stare. But, she saw a flash of metal, a knife. Was she going to hurt her too? Was she going to attack her like that fucking hedge husky? Fuck. Blue flames ignited in the dirt around her hands, a reflex, a means to protecting herself, even as the fear clung to her.

This wasn’t her fault, but some part of her thought that maybe she should have been more careful. Athena glanced between the cù sìth and Luce. Luce, who now had flames around her fingertips. Spellcaster? Or something else, Athena wasn’t quite sure at first. Holding the knife out toward the dog, she knelt down next to Luce, careful not to touch the other woman. “That thing over there causes fear. It’s doing this to you on purpose.” She wasn’t certain if Luce would even fully understand what was going on, but she needed the woman to know that she wasn’t going to hurt her, but that this creature was going to do a lot of harm if one of them didn’t get rid of it. “Fire might not do much, though it is a good idea,” she said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

Luce’s gulped in air, taking it in with rapid, panting breaths. The thing, she couldn’t see it, couldn’t tell where it had disappeared in the brush around them. She wanted to wrap herself in flames, protect herself from that thing. Its howl still rang in her ears as her fingers dug deeper into the earth, as though the gesture would ground her and keep her safe. As she struggled to control herself, Luce was able to catch the snippets of words-- Athena, Luce remembered her name through the oppressive waves of fear. It wasn’t just dread, the lingering howl rattled in her mind and she could hear voices. Screaming, in pain, begging for something to end. Bea. Nell. Ulf. Remmy. Nadia. Morgan. “No. No, no, no, no, no.” She said, curling up in on herself as she tried to ignore it. But, the flames around her grew, blue tongues curling around her arms now.

The woman was having an anxiety attack of some sort. Or at least that was what it seemed like to Athena. “Look. I’m not going to hurt you.” She didn’t know how much of what she was saying was getting through to Luce, so she kept repeating it, in different ways. They didn’t have much time to act. “Will that keep you safe?” She queried, looking down at the fire. For a brief flash of a moment, she found herself wishing that she could give the other woman some immunity to the creature just like she had. But if that wasn’t possible, ridding the world of it was the next best thing. “I can make this stop, if you’d like. I can - your fire might be able to help too.” Her voice held a certain sort of gentleness that surprised even her, but if that was what it took, she would gladly comply. “One blow to a major organ of that thing using my knife and we’ll be free. It won’t hurt you or anyone else.”

Dimly, Luce could see the way that the girl looked at the fire that was winding up her forearms, coiling like snakes around her biceps. “Y-yeah.” She managed, doing her best to try and calm herself. Her heart was still racing, her breathing still too quick. Her head felt strange, like it was going to fucking… pop off or something. Christ. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck that dog and it’s fucked up howl. Gritting her teeth, Luce staggered to her feet and looked at Athena. “How? And… why aren’t you..?” Her voice trailed off as she gestured to herself. The girl hadn’t even missed a beat when the creature had howled. How?

She wasn’t supposed to tell others what she was. That was practically a cardinal rule back home, but she knew she’d messed that rule up a number of times, be it on purpose or on accident. But she knew what Luce was, or had some sort of idea, and it was only fair for Luce to know what Athena was, too. “I’m a warden. I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself, but that’s why it is not doing anything to me. It is a form of fae, but it is going to do a lot of harm if we don’t take care of it as soon as possible.” She looked over at Luce. “Your reaction is normal for anyone who isn’t fae and isn’t a warden. We need to deal with it… soon. It’ll likely howl again soon, and that’s not good for anyone.”

As the girl explained just why she was able to withstand the fucked dog’s howl, Luce’s eyes widened. A Warden? That was some kind of hunter, right? She had no idea that there were specific hunters that went after different shit, but sure, that worked. She could roll with that, as long as Athena could fucking handle it. “Okay. Okay. W-what can I do to help?” She asked, hating the way her voice stammered with fear. She was better than this, she was fucking better than this. Clenching her fists, she did her best to rein in the flames a bit, just to keep them away from the girl. She doubted that wardens were fireproof. “I can… set fire to things. Or blow shit up. But I don’t know where it is.” She said, her eyes darting around the forest around them.

“If you want to keep it trapped, that might do us both a lot of good.” Athena bit her lip. She looked over at Luce carefully. Even if she was one to sometimes rush into things, even she could tell that right now was not the time for that. “We don’t want it escaping, but maybe blocking it so that it’s got no choice but to come towards me. That could help.” She analyzed the scene around them quickly - doing her best to take in as much of it as she could. Doing her best to think a few steps ahead. “Setting fire is good.” She glanced around them. “I think…” she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her skin feel cold. Doing her best to embrace the feeling. “It’s by those trees,” she said, upon opening her eyes. “I can see its tail.”

Swallowing, Luce shook her head in an attempt to get the ringing out of her ears. She could light shit on fire. That was all she was good for and she sure as shit wasn’t going to stop doing it now. Glancing over at the girl, she frowned when she saw that Athena’s eyes were closed. What the fuck..? Some kinda fucking Spidey-Sense bullshit? Hunter stuff? Whatever, as long as it worked, she wasn’t going to argue with it. Flicking her fingers in the direction Athena had told her, the trails of flame flew from her arms and slithered across the ground. The twin snakes of blue ignited the brush around them, sending fire and smoke into the air as Luce directed the magic to create a circle around the beast. “W-what now?” She managed as she brought one of her hands up with a grasping motion, sending the blue flames up into the air. Her fire, it was flickering, not as powerful as it usually was, and it took every effort to keep her grasp on her magic. 

“If you can help.” Athena repeated. “If you can help at all, we can corral this thing and we can be rid of it.” She ran her fingertips along the knife, savoring the feeling of the cold iron. Just like always. It was comforting, though she knew well enough not to voice that to anyone. She was good at playing the part of normal, and even though Luce clearly knew something was up now, she didn’t have to act in the same way that she could act at home. In fact, Athena was acutely aware of just how much she shouldn’t act that way. Luce, though she clearly had some powers of her own, was still human, and that meant Athena had to do her best to protect her. To make sure she was safe and well. “It’ll be quick after that. I’m good and I’m fast, and then you won’t be afraid anymore.” 

Gritting her teeth, Luce nodded. “I can do that. I can… do that.” She managed, though the words were more to reassure herself than Athena. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded as the beast began to snap and bite at the flames, as though it was testing the boundary. She urged the magic forward, feeding the flames with power that made them rise higher into the air, their cobalt tongues dancing among the brush. The creature let out a yelp and scampered back into the center of the circle, its tail low and hackles raised as it spun around, searching for a way out. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.” She growled, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to hold this for very long. Her magic was intrinsically tied into her emotions and fear like this, the primal urge to run? It made wielding the flames incredibly draining. 

Although Luce was clearly terrified, Athena had to appreciate how willing she was to jump right into action. She made a mental note of that - for the future, at least - one never knew when something like that could come in handy. Right now was not the time to focus on the future - right now she had to focus on getting rid of this thing. Whatever Luce was doing was working, and Athena let a breath out. “On it.” She said, and under any other circumstance she would have flashed a grin towards Luce, but the other woman likely wouldn’t respond to that right now, and so she kept it internal, her face professional. She took off toward the creature, permitting a smirk to cross her face as she came closer. “You can’t hurt me.” She giggled. “You can’t do anything to me.” The creature stood by her. It had been just over eight minutes, which meant it might howl again at any point. She had to stop it before that happened. “I can, however, do a whole lot to you.” She held tightly onto her knife before digging it into the creature’s chest, praying that she hit a vital organ, and grinning when it collapsed onto the ground. Turning around, she rushed back over to Luce. “It’s gone now. It’s not going to hurt you. Or anyone.” 

Keeping the circle of fire going without letting it burn the girl was hard, harder than Luce wanted to admit. But, she was going to make sure that fucking terror hound was gone. And if Athena said she could deal with it, she’d believe her. Just send in the blonde kid with a knife, no big deal. She watched as the girl circled the creature, stance just as predatory, before darting forward and plunging the knife into its chest. And then, it was over. Like that. Releasing her hold on the magic that was straining from her grasp, Luce let out a sigh and slumped back down on the ground. The howl, that fucking howl, it still had her messed up. But at least it was dead. “Nice.” She managed, wiping the sweat from her brow with a weary hand. “Fuck.” Luce muttered with a shake of her head. “Thanks for that.” She said not really sure what else she was meant to say. Thanks for shanking a fucked up dog? Thanks for being chill with the whole fire thing? Whatever.

She was hesitant to touch Luce, and so Athena instead settled for kneeling next to the woman, making sure that she was still breathing. The cù-sìth was dealt with, she didn’t have to worry about it surprise-attacking them. “Thank you. I - well, I don’t usually lose if I put my mind to anything. Be it something like this or an exam.” She wasn’t sure that her attempt to lighten the mood would have the intended effect, but so long as the thing was dealt with and Luce was alive, that was all that mattered. She found herself relieved that Luce also didn’t seem opposed to her hobby. “Oh - yeah, of course. It’s what I do.” She pulled her knees up against her chest and looked over to Luce. “We should get you home, probably. It’s - well, the - that cù-sìth is gone now. It’s - you’ll be alright.” She offered her a small smile. “I appreciate all the help you provided too. Nice team up, if a bit unexpected. Certainly not how all of my runs end.”

Not the type to lose, a perfectionist, huh? She sounded like Bea. Luce shook her hands out, dusting some of the dirt from her palms. Or… well, how Bea had used to sound. Her sister hadn’t been the same since everything that had happened. “Well, sounds like I lucked out big time.” She said and sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. She was absolutely wiped and it was only what… fucking 8? Christ. She still had work, still had appointments to keep. “Yeah, thanks. I need a big ass coffee, but I think I’ll be good after that.” Luce nodded. “No problem. Obviously, I’m not a hunter-- witch, duh-- but I’m not a fan of shit like that kicking it in the woods. I’m happy to help.” She said, before letting out a wry laugh. “Definitely not how they tend to go. Either way… thanks, Athena.” She said offering a slight wave of her hand before heading back to her car. Who’d have fucking thought? The semi-neurotic blonde who’d stepped into Ink Inc, a hunter? Whatever. She’d heard of weirder shit. And at the moment, she didn’t really care to question it, not when the girl had saved her from getting turned into dog food. But still… Who’d have thought?

[gumnut-logic]

When the World Goes Boom (Part Six)

This chapter is huge and was a challenge to write. The fic itself is now over 17,000 words. So much for a quick fic for Alan’s birthday. I give up.

Spoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angst, hurt/comfort, brothers and family, 5875 words

Many thanks to @scribbles97​​​ and @i-am-chidorixblossom​​​ for putting up with my crazy and reading this at random moments.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

There was nothing said between Jeff and his mother on the trip back to the house. Sally was of two minds. The first was to let it all play out, let Jeff trip over the brilliance of his boys and teach him the hard way that they knew what they were doing.

Not that she thought he didn’t trust them, it was more an unfamiliarity of how the family functioned in an emergency situation. This was the first time since his return that any of the boys had received a serious injury. It certainly wasn’t the first time for the family in his absence. Certain things had been put in place, certain habits came to the fore as the family retreated into itself.

Which led her to option number two - to sit him down, run interference between him and his middle son before they could blow each other’s heads off. Because that was what was likely to happen. Jeff was a lot like his eldest in temperament and John never responded well to Scott in confrontation.

So, her second option seemed the valid course.

Except Jeff refused to pick up the conversation.

Damn stubborn Tracy. The breed only came in that flavour and it could be as frustrating as hell.

As the car pulled into their driveway, she gave it one last attempt. A hand on his arm. “Jeff, hear him out.”

“I will.” Tight and dismissive.

She sighed internally and grabbed her bag, following him out of the car. The breeze was stronger than earlier and it caught her hair. “Jeff, they have been doing this a long time. They know what they are doing.”

He turned at that, one step on the front porch. “Mom, so do I.” And he turned back and entered the house.

She sighed. This was not going to end well.

Sure enough, words were already being exchanged as she entered the room.

John was frowning, his calm obviously unnerved by one of a handful of people capable of shaking it. “It was a legitimate move, Dad.”

“I’m not suggesting it wasn’t. My concern is that you did it without consultation.”

“I didn’t need to consult. It is my responsibility.”

“For my business.”

The room froze. Oh, Jeff. Her heart hurt.

“Dad, I...” Those turquoise eyes turned to her for the briefest of moments before flickering away. “The business is under the control of all of us, Dad. You know that.”

Her son swallowed, but kept his composure. “In that case then, why wasn’t I consulted?”

“Because that’s not how it works.” John straightened just a little. “Scott is the primary contact. He sees to day to day activities and calls on my assistance at need. Scott gets injured, the ultimate decision making falls to me. I made a decision to save future lives and I actioned it. I have no doubt Scott would support such a decision.”

Sally had no doubt either. Lemaire really was an idiot and it explained why they had so many rescues listing Oxy-Baker as the culprit.

Jeff swallowed visibly and Sally groaned internally. Jeff had come back from his isolation a changed man, but the core of his personality, the same aspect that had enabled him to survive so long alone, was still there. He wasn’t one to stand on the sidelines, particularly in a business he had built from the ground up.

“You created a media storm.”

“Lemaire created a media storm and Eos has it under control.”

“That control is limited and you know it. She can only delete so much before absences are noted and questions asked. You can’t jeopardise her or our operations for random gossip.”

“It is under control, Dad.”

“Then how did I find out about it?!” Great now his voice was rising.

John was still holding it together. “I know what I am doing. Lemaire cut his own throat with that broadcast. I knew he would do it and worked it into the strategy.”

“What strategy?”

“Dad-“

“Why am I never told anything? Why am I always on the outside?”

“Dad-“

But there was no stopping him. Sally’s eyes widened as her son flared like a sun gone nova.

He threw up his hands. “My own family! I, just...John, why do you shut me out?!”

John just stared. “Wha-?”

“Jeff.” Sally reached out and put a hand on her son’s arm.

He turned and stared at her, his eyes widening.

Sally opened her mouth.

Jeff’s phone rang.

The moment snapped. Sound returned to the room. Jeff’s harsh breathing. John’s wide eyes.

Her own heart beating too fast.

The phone rang a moment longer before Jeff reached into his back pocket and yanked it out.

His voice harsh. “Jeff Tracy.”

Her son kept the phone on voice only.

“Hello, Val.” His glare at John proved this discussion was not over. “They are both on the mend. Alan still need further surgery, but Scott is getting there slowly.” His voice was tight. “You know the deal, dressing changes twice a day. Burns are the worst. Virgil is on it.” A pause and a frown. “Yes, I’m fine…John and my mother, at the house.” He sighed and lowered the phone, deploying it’s holoprojector. Val Casey appeared before them all.

She frowned up at Jeff. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Val, I’m fine.”

Her lips thinned as if she didn’t believe him. Sally was not surprised. Val could always read Jeff, almost as well as her sister. The two of them used to gang up on him.

Sally had often wondered if Val could have become something more than the boys’ aunt, but Jeff had never pursued and Val just fell deeper into her career.

No doubt, Val would pursue the topic of Jeff’s health later, but for the moment she resumed the reason for her call. “We have begun investigations into the explosion and I was hoping International Rescue would be willing to share your data on the incident.”

Jeff’s eyes flickered to John. “I had assumed you had already received it.”

John caught that gaze and held it. He shook his head just a little.

Jeff’s eyes widened.

Val was talking to someone out of projector range. “Foster says she has yet to receive anything. John?” Her dark eyes turned to her nephew.

“We’re still assessing the situation, Aunt Val.”

She stared at him a moment, her lips thinning. “Very well. I will want Foster to interview Scott, Alan and John at their earliest convenience.”

“That may be some time, Val. My two boys were seriously injured.”

“I know that Jeff. I don’t like it any more than you, but there was a major explosion in orbit. We now have projectiles intruding on shipping lanes and orbital contamination. It is a mess up there. The World Council is demanding an investigation. This could affect the operation of International Rescue.”

Jeff frowned. “How?”

“There are those who claim your rescue organisation is at fault.”

“What?! Two of my sons nearly lost their lives.”

“Then prove they weren’t responsible by sharing the information.”

Jeff’s eyes hit John’s. “I will see to it.”

Val held his eyes a moment longer. “I look forward to it. GDF Command out.” The phone flicked off before anyone could comment.

“Why haven’t we cooperated with the GDF?” The words were sharp and shot at her middle grandson.

“It has become our policy to not trust the GDF.” John’s expression was resigned.

“Why?”

“The Hood has a spy in their ranks, possibly more than one.”

“The Hood is in jail.”

“It’s not the first time and it doesn’t mean much, Dad, trust me.”

Jeff’s lips thinned.

John straightened and appeared to steel himself.

Oh, for the love of-!

“Jeff.” Again, she reached out and touched his arm.

Again, it was thrown off.

Jeff opened his mouth.

John’s comms went off. “John, you there?” Gordon.

The room froze.

The astronaut stared at his father a moment longer before turning slightly and thumbing his collar. “Yes, Gordon?”

“Hey, bro, I think we have a situation.”

“What?”

“You okay?” Gordon’s tone became concerned and she could hear her fishy grandson’s frown over the commline.

“I’m fine. Details, Gordon?”

“Alan’s remembered something. We don’t think the explosion was an accident.”

As her heart sank, Sally stared as John’s turquoise hardened into obsidian.

-o-o-o-

Okay, if Virgil was honest, pushing Scott out into the sunshine wasn’t entirely just for his brother’s benefit. He closed his eyes, holding the bed still a moment as the sun hit his face.

“Oh, god, who turned the sun up?”

Shit.

Virgil grabbed his sunglasses from his pocket and handed them to his brother. They were snapped up and shoved on Scott’s face ever so fast. The wraparounds blocked out everything and the concussed man sighed in relief.

“Sorry.” So much for being the medical expert in the family.

“‘S okay.” Scott lay back and literally melted into the bed. “Feels good.”

Virgil relaxed a little and resumed pushing the bed out towards the gardens.

“Not too far, Virgil.”

His shoulders dropped. “Kayo, I just need a tree and a view. Scott needs it.”

The security officer held his gaze.

“It’s only Lemaire. The man’s an idiot.”

Her stare continued.

“Please, Kay.” Puppy dog eyes maybe?

He held it for a few seconds longer and was satisfied to see her shoulders finally drop. “Fine.” She stalked into the fore, hand signals thrown at both Jeremy and Iz and the three security officers bracketed the bed and the two men.

Oh, he was so going to pay for this.

But, yeah, totally worth it.

Kayo led them out into the park and under a tree as requested. Virgil pulled the hoverbed to a halt with a sigh. The view was magnificent.

Jeremy stepped closer and took up a position near the Tracy brothers, Iz melted into the gardens and Kayo glared at Virgil one more time before talking into her comms quietly and running a perimeter.

So going to pay for this.

“She’s going to turn your life into hell, Virg.”

“Eh, she loves me. She won’t kill me.” He walked around the bed and perched on it beside his brother. “How are you?”

The breeze caressed his cheeks and it was wonderful.

“Better to be outside of that room.”

Virgil caught the unspoken terror in his brother’s voice. “Alan is going to be fine.”

“I know.”

Virgil reached out and touched his brother’s arm. “He will be. I promise.”

Scott turned to look at him at that, tired eyes staring up at him with a fragile hope Virgil had never quite seen in them before. Scott was always the powerhouse of inspiration in their family. The leader, the mover, the focus. To see him so tentative was alarming.

It was the concussion.

It had to be the concussion.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil startled. “What?”

His brother was peering at him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Virgil, seriously, are you okay?” Scott was frowning in concern.

Great.

“I’m fine.”

“You have bags under your eyes bigger than Grandma’s handbag.”

Virgil rolled those eyes. “Exaggeration. I just haven’t had my coffee this morning.”

Scott stared at him in alarm. “You were up that early and haven’t had coffee?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I had coffee over breakfast. Just haven’t had my morning refill.”

That stare continued. Ever so great. Now Scott was worried about him. “I’m fine. You’re the sick one.” He turned away so his brother couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“Did you sleep?”

“I slept.” A couple of hours at least.

“For goodness sake, Virg-“

He placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “I’m fine. Quit worrying.”

“It’s my job.”

“You’re on sick leave. Give it up.”

“Look after yourself.”

“I am. Just drop it, okay. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Exactly.” But it was said under his brother’s breath and Virgil doubted he was supposed to hear it. He ignored it anyway and turned away to focus on being outside and free from the confines of the hospital.

Scott appeared to give up, though he did manage to shoot Virgil a concerned look every now and again.

Virgil ignored him and just sat back against the headboard with his brother and relaxed.

He was on the verge of dozing off when his comms squawked at him. As he focussed enough to answer, Kayo swept out of the shrubbery and joined them.

Virgil’s heart sank even before he heard Gordon’s voice.

The explosion wasn’t an accident.

-o-o-o-

The room was ever so much more depressing and confined with so many people in it.

Their father and grandmother returned to the hospital, this time bringing John with them. Virgil noticed from the moment his middle brother walked through the door that something was up between him and Dad.

When Aunt Val and her second walked in behind him, Virgil realised exactly what.

Their Aunt immediately moved to both Scott and Alan, enquiring after their health. Her second, Captain Foster appeared both fearful and uncomfortable and had every right to both emotions.

Virgil glanced at Scott and found the expected concerned expression on his face.

But his brother shook himself and the commander made an appearance, his expression calming while his blue eyes missed not a thing. Virgil both welcomed it as a sign of his recovery and with a little bit of dread. Scott had never been entirely convinced Foster was innocent in the Hood’s theft of her identity. Virgil was of two minds himself, but everything IR could access…and that was a lot with Eos up their sleeve along with John…just proved her innocence more.

So, they treated her as innocent.

“Aunt Val, what brings you here?” Scott lay back against his pillow, his eyes tracking the people in the room.

Alan, in contrast was beginning to look tired.

When Scott and Virgil returned to the room with Kayo, the astronaut had been energetic, fuelled by his own discovery and worry. The words had literally fallen from his mouth in report to Scott. Virgil had shoved the beds together and the eldest brother had reached out to gently touch and reassure the youngest. It had been an important moment for them. Virgil hadn’t missed the tremble in his big brother’s voice or his inability to let his brother go.

Alan hadn’t minded in the slightest.

Virgil himself stood to one side listening as both Eos and Alan filled gaps in the picture. Scott’s expression hardened with each word.

Understandable.

Virgil wasn’t impressed in the slightest that someone was responsible for nearly killing two of his brothers.

Kayo went ballistic.

More security was ordered and her voice was sharp over comms. Virgil had no doubt the hospital was now tighter than Fort Knox.

“Commander, I have a report that you don’t believe the orbital explosion was an accident.” The colonel’s voice was crisp and clear.

Scott’s eyes darted to his father.

Jeff straightened just a little his expression firming up.

That blue gaze darted to John and their middle brother’s posture parroted that of their father with just a touch of defiance. The flicker of comprehension in Scott’s eyes reflected Virgil’s assessment of the situation. There was definitely an argument on simmer in the room.

Scott pushed himself up in the bed and Virgil jumped in to help. He could understand not wanting to face this lying down.

Scott grabbed at his head and closed his eyes.

“Hey, take it slow.” Virgil caught his brother’s shoulders and shot a glare at his father. Goddamnit, if this set Scott back after all the progress today, John wasn’t the only one who was going to be in an argument with his father.

“I’m okay, Virg.”

Pillows were shoved in to support Scott and the commander sat up straight, not quite high enough to look Casey in the eye, but impressive enough.

Virgil stood beside him.

“Colonel, we have only just now discovered there may be a possibility that the explosion was not an accident.”

“I need details.”

Scott’s eye darted to Foster for the barest of fractions. “I would prefer to do my own investigation of this matter. I need further information.”

“This is GDF jurisdiction, Scott.”

His brother’s lips thinned. He knew their aunt was right, but trust had been eroded after so many failures on the GDF’s part.

“There are some discrepancies in the station’s records. We suspect they have been masking their intake of both precious metals and radioactive materials.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“That is what we need to find out.”

“Do you have proof?”

Scott turned to John and every eye in the room followed. The astronaut didn’t blink, his voice cool as he answered. “You will have our records shortly.”

“Thank you, John.”

John didn’t answer.

Virgil frowned.

Their father stepped forward. “Thank you, Val. Keep us in the loop?”

“Of course.”

Scott’s lips thinned further. “Colonel, I would appreciate this information being kept in confidence.”

It was Casey’s turn to straighten. “Of course, Commander.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Thank you.”

There was a sudden silence in the room.

It was broken by a snore.

Virgil turned to find Alan flaked out in his bed, on his back, dead to the world. The medic flared. “I would appreciate it if my brothers were allowed to rest. It has been a long day and they are still recuperating. His glare landed on their father and the man met him eye to eye.

It was the Colonel who had the apology. “I’m sorry, Virgil, but this was important.”

“I’m aware of that, Aunt Val, but Alan was seriously injured. We came very close to losing him. So, you will need to excuse us if we are a little protective.” On the bed next to him, Scott flinched. Damn. Poor choice of words.

Virgil dropped a hand onto Scott’s forearm and squeezed gently without looking at his brother.

“I can respect that, but I will require Captain Foster to interview both Alan and Scott as part of this investigation as soon as possible.”

Virgil took a single step between his brothers and his aunt. “It will have to wait until at least tomorrow, Colonel. Both need more time.”

“You are not a doctor, Virgil.”

Of course, that set off his grandmother. “But I am, Val, and Virgil is correct. You are going to have to be patient.”

Alan snorted in his sleep. Gordon, sitting on the end of his little brother’s bed, lay a hand on Alan’s leg. There was a frown on the aquanaut’s face.

“I am trying to help you, Sal.”

“I know that, but you will have to wait. Our boys aren’t up to it yet.”

The colonel’s dark eyes turned to the eldest man in the room. “Jeff?”

Grey eyes darted from their grandmother to the sleeping Alan to the glaring blue staring from Scott’s bed.

A soft sigh. “My mother, as always, is correct, Val. We will have to wait.”

Val dipped her head in defeat. “Jeff, as soon as possible.”

“You have my word.”

With that the colonel looked to each of them, turned and left, taking Captain Foster with her.

As the door clicked closed, their father rounded on them. “What was that?”

Scott frowned. “What was what?”

“That was your aunt. Your mother’s sister. I would think you would treat her with a little more trust and respect.”

“Dad, that was Colonel Casey of the GDF. This is a professional relationship and we treat it as such. We have had difficulties with the GDF multiple times in the past. I can not afford to trust that organisation blindly. Aunt Val, yes, she means well, but she is not in control of every person in the Force. I will not trust them any more than I have to.”

“Why?”

Scott stared at his father a moment before turning to John. “Make sure Dad has the necessary mission reports as soon as possible.”

John’s FAB was very quiet.  

Their father returned Scott’s stare with equal wattage, his eyes grey stone. “I see we need to have an extended discussion.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Yes, sir, we do.”

The ‘sir’ floated around the room like a harbinger. Scott hadn’t addressed his father like that in over nine years.

“Jeff, I think we should talk about this later. These boys need their rest.” As if to punctuate his grandmother’s request, Alan snorted and rolled over in his sleep. His soft whimper as he landed on his injuries had Gordon moving fast to gently prod him in the opposite direction.

Virgil winced, and realised he was still standing in defence of his eldest brother even though their Aunt had already left. A swallow and he stepped back to Scott’s side. He didn’t miss his grandmother eyeing him.

Grandma reached up and placed a hand on their father’s arm. “C’mon, Jefferson, you need rest.”

He turned to look at his mother. His shoulders sagged just a little.

Her hand travelled around his back and her touch became a one-armed hug. “You boys get some rest, too.” Blue eyes pinned both Scott and Virgil in particular.

Virgil let his head nod just once as Grandma steered her son out of the room. Their father must be really tired to allow himself to be herded like that.

But then this was Grandma.

Virgil sighed as the door closed behind them. Grabbing a plastic chair, he let himself drop into it beside Scott and for a moment just sprawled there.

“That could have gone a bit better.”

“You’re telling me.” Scott’s tone was as tired as Virgil felt. “Dad’s pissed.”

“Don’t blame him.” Gordon’s expression was sad.

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. “No…god, I’m tired.”

That perked up Virgil and, in a moment, he was standing again, fussing at his brother to lie down.

Scott glared at him, but surrendered without complaint, proof of exactly how much that little meeting had taken out of him.

“I’m sorry, Scott, but that’s not all of it.” John moved quietly closer to the bed; his expression just sad. “Dad feels we are shutting him out. That we are not including him in the decision-making process.”

That explained the tension on John’s face when he arrived.

Scott rubbed his face. “I…uh.” He let a breath out in a rush. “FAB.”

“I’ll speak to him tonight.” Virgil’s voice was rough and both Scott and John, along with Gordon in the background, turned to him.

“Virgil, are you okay?” John’s eyes were suddenly concerned.

Virgil cleared his throat and his voice came out more its usual depth. “I’m fine, why?”

His brothers’ frowns didn’t disappear, but Virgil pre-empted further discussion of his health by speaking further. “I’ll talk to him tonight. Hopefully he will have had a rest by then. We’re all tired. Tempers are guaranteed to be short.”

Scott grunted.

As if to parrot his big brother, Alan snorted again.

Gordon stifled a laugh.

Scott glared at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes and threw himself back into the chair.

Concerned turquoise eyes followed him, but Virgil ignored them.

God, he was tired. A blink. His coffee. He never got his damned coffee. Explained the tired.

He rubbed his face fit to erase it and lay back.

It could all wait a few minutes.

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he knows?”

“Of course, he knows. How could he possibly not?”

“He’s asleep. How could he know?”

“Because you never shut up about it.”

“Can it, you two, or you’ll wake him up!” The hissed whisper was closer and definitely Scott.

“I think that would be a good idea considering he is about to fall off that chair.” Gordon? Yes, Gordon.

Virgil shifted and realised he was not in a comfortable position. Not comfortable in the slightest.

He groaned as his body complained. Ow.

“Now, see that? You’ve done it. You just couldn’t shut up, could you?”

A gentle hand touched Virgil’s shoulder and he shifted again. Oh god, what had he done to himself.

“Hey, Virg, take it easy, you’re going to fall off the chair.”

Chair? Wha-? He forced his eyes open.

Just in time for whatever was under him to tip sideways.

The world tumbled into a mess of linoleum, orange and bruising hard surfaces.

Strong hands caught him though.

“Shit, Virg, you okay?”

The orange? The orange was Gordon. Virgil blinked attempting force clarity into his thoughts. His butt hurt and he had whacked a foot, but those strong arms of his little brother had caught all the important bits. A dazed stare up into eyes as brown as his own and his brain came mostly online.

“Ugh, Gordon? What the hell?”

“You fell off your chair.”

Virgil struggled to right himself and his brother helped him to sit up. He was on the floor. Scott was peering over the edge of his bed down at him, a worried frown on his face. “You okay, Virgil?”

He ran a hand over his face. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Thanks, Gords.”

“All part of the service.” As usual, Gordon’s tone was light, but Virgil didn’t miss the fact his brother hadn’t let him go yet. “You fell asleep. Did you know you snore like a frog?”

He turned to his brother. “What?”

“A genuine frog. I can even name the species. Mating call and all. I suggest you don’t fall asleep next to a pond. You may wake up with some interested, but somewhat slimy female admirers.”

Virgil stared at Gordon for a full second before giving up and shaking the man off so he could roll to his feet.

Ow, everything creaked. “How long?”

Scott’s eyes followed him as he staggered upright. “Maybe a couple of hours. You were tired.”

Still was. He rubbed his face again.

“You missed lunch.”

Huh? Food. His stomach groaned. “I’m good.”

“Bullshit, Virgil. Go home, you need food and a bed.”

He ran his hands through his hair. Ugh, sleep inertia. His brain was fog. He just needed a moment.

He grabbed his chair and righted it as his fish brother unfolded from the floor. His sore butt hit the plastic of the seat and he groaned. “I need coffee.”

Gordon snickered obviously ignoring the warning in those words.

Scott’s voice was firm. “Gordon, could you please get Virgil some coffee.”

That prompted a glare war between brothers that Virgil had no energy to umpire.

Blue must have won over brown like it usually did, because Gordon stomped off.

“You okay, Virg?” Alan’s voice came from somewhere beyond Scott.

Virgil grunted.

“Give him a minute…or sixty.” The grin in Scott’s voice was just offensive.

“Shut up.”

Gordon returned with what turned out to be a decent and wonderful and, oh god, coffee. So warm, so longed for. “Gordon, I love you.”

His brother snorted. “Figured, but I’m thinking you love the coffee more right now.”

“Mmm-hmm.” His eyes were closed and the smell. Ohhhh!

Someone was giggling but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Coffee.

It was a few reverential moments and some steaming liquid of the gods later before he surfaced enough to discover three pairs of eyes smirking at him.

Three.

“Where’s John?”

It was Scott who answered. “Lemaire threw another fit. He returned to the house to tackle it.”

“Another one? I thought John had the business secured.”

Scott sighed. “He does as far as I can see. Lemaire is just hounding the press.” Virgil narrowed his gaze at his eldest brother, suspicious. Scott rolled his eyes. “And before you ask, yes, I did fall asleep, but your snoring woke me up.”

“And me.” But Alan was grinning, obviously feeling better for his nap. “What frog was that, Gordo?”

“An African bullfrog. A big fat nasty one, just woke up from hibernation. Kinda applicable really, considering.” Gordon’s grin was fit to split his face in half.

Virgil ignored him and guzzled the dregs of his coffee.

Perhaps Scott was right. Maybe he should go home if he was disturbing his brothers.

A hand touched his arm. Scott’s voice was quiet and sincere. “Virg, go home. You’re wearing yourself out. Alan and I are fine. We will be fine. Go home.”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

The door to the room opened and a nurse entered. “Mr Alan Tracy, it is time for your dressings change.”

Virgil blinked. It was that late? Where the hell had the day gone?

He pushed himself to his feet. He could hang for another half hour or so.

Scott groaned softly as Virgil moved his bed out of the way so they could undock Alan’s bed. “Virg, go home.”

“I will. After Alan’s had his dressings changed.”

“Virg-“

“I’m good. Gordon, hang with Scott and sing him a lullaby. Here hold my coffee cup.” He shoved the empty mug into his gaping brother’s hand and helped push Alan’s bed out of the room.

Alan’s giggle made it worth it.

-o-o-o-

The giggle lasted until they entered the procedure room and then nothing could deny the seriousness of the situation. They left Jez and Brie at the door to give them privacy.

As Alan’s bed was docked and the protective sheets laid beside him, Virgil moved to take up a position at the head of the bed and gently rested his hand in Alan’s hair. Out of the way, but still in contact with his little brother.

During previous procedures, Virgil had moved to the other side of the bed, but this time he wanted a better view.

Maybe down the track, he would be able to help his brother through his recovery.

The nurse left for a moment and Alan looked up, his hair soft against the palm of Virgil’s hand. “Thanks for this. I know it sucks to watch, but thanks for being here, bro.”

A small smile. “Anytime, Allie.”

He could have let Gordon come in his stead, but Gordon was as much his little brother as Alan, and while they were all adults…well, almost, his fingers brushed blond locks involuntarily…every instinct still called to protect them.

If he was honest, Virgil would have to admit that his family was everything to him.

He would do anything for his brothers.

A small sigh. He must be tired. He was getting maudlin.

The nurse returned, bustling in with a hypodermic. She smiled at Alan and he forced a grin. “Got me the good drugs again?”

“Certainly, Mr Tracy. Only the best for our best patients.” Her smile was genuine and friendly.

She prodded his brother’s IV line and injected the medication. “Let’s give that a few moments to do its thing.”

Alan grinned. “Bring on the psychedelic butterflies.”

The nurse only smiled and finished up. “It will be over before you know it, Mr Tracy.”

Virgil hoped so.

The next few moments were quiet as Alan settled.

Virgil found himself gently stroking his brother’s hair.

He wasn’t sure if it was for Alan or himself. Maybe it was for both of them.

Eventually, the door opened and the same nurse from this morning entered pushing a small tray of supplies.

Alan grinned. “Joe, you’ve come back for a second round.”

The young man smiled in return. “Wouldn’t miss it. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, the good stuff is doing its stuff. Can barely feel a thing.”

The nurse stepped up to the side of the bed, giving Virgil the barest of nods. “That’s what we like to hear. Have to make sure we have a happy customer.”

“Give me a little more and I’ll be more than happy.”

The nurse snorted as he lined up his tools. “Kelly says you’ve had just the right amount, Alan. Wouldn’t want you to go loopy on us.”

“Sounds like fun. Hey, Virg, is it fun?”

Virgil blinked. “Is what fun?”

“Being high as a kite. Joe, you should see what stuff like this does to my brother.”

“Alan…”

The nurse looked up at Virgil and a small smile spread across his face. “Really? What does it do?”

Virgil groaned. “Alan-“

“He gets funny. One time he tried to walk through a wall. Another time, he proposed to Kayo, his sister.” Alan giggled. So much for not being as high as a kite.

“Alan, please.”

“It’s okay, Virg. We still love you.”

Blue eyes were looking up at him and smiling.

God, Allie.

The nurse pulled out a hypodermic needle. “Now I’m just going to put in a local anaesthetic and we’ll get started.” He began uncovering Alan’s arm.

Virgil frowned. “Why does he need a local? He has a nerve depressant in place.”

The nurse blinked at him. “This is part of the procedure.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve attended every session with Alan. He has not needed a local anaesthetic before. You didn’t give him one this morning.”

The nurse turned towards him. “He was in pain this morning. I felt this would help.” The man turned back to Alan and pulled the covers off his arm.

“Which local are you using?”

The man didn’t stop what he was doing. “Why?”

“Virg, what’s wrong?” Concerned blue eyes stared up at him from the bed.

“Just asking some questions, Allie.” He turned back to Joe. “Can you please stop a moment and explain what you are doing?”

Joe straightened and turned to Virgil, resignation on his face. “I guess I’ll have to.”

A blur of movement, a sharp pain in his neck, heat and shock as he was flung away from the bed. His head hit something hard and the world sparkled in a rain of stars.

“Virgil!”

Alan!

What the f-?!

“You had to be a smart ass, didn’t you. Couldn’t make this easy. No…bloody Tracys!”

Virgil’s brain derailed for a second. The man beside the bed doubled as he reloaded the syringe. “Two Tracys instead of one, can’t hurt, s’pose.”

“Al-lan, r-run!” He fumbled for his collar. “J..J..ez.” Where was his voice? He lurched a step. “Alan!”

His brother was responding, ever so slowly, dragging himself off the bed, his sedated body ever so heavy.

Heavy…Virgil listed to one side and struggled to right himself.

Joe had the hypodermic charged again. He turned to Alan.

No!

Virgil threw himself forward and crashed into that doubling figure.

They went down with a resounding crash. Surgical tools went flying.

“Goddamnit! What does it take to shut you up?!”

Virgil wrestled with the man, but he was uncoordinated and numb. Joe slapped him across the face with an empty medical tray and everything vanished in pain for too many moments.

But he had a grip on an arm and he wasn’t going to let go.

The man struggled, fighting him, and Virgil again tried his collar comms his thick fingers fumbling. “Jez…Jeremy, please!” Not Allie, please not Allie, don’t hurt Allie.

White hot pain flared in his arm.

Not Allie.

Again, sharp, hot and burning.

Again. He whimpered.

“Get off me, you annoying piece of sh-“

Something stabbed into him and stayed there just as the room exploded with noise.

Not Allie.

“Scott, help…please…”

Everything came down to that fist and what it held.

Not Allie.

Not Allie.

Not.

Alli-

-o-o-o-

End Part Six