#listen. I actually love cauliflower okay

[daisywords]

"low-fat" this, "low-cal" that, "oh use cauliflower rice instead," "zero carb zero fat zero meat zero dairy zero calories" how about stop taking the food out of my food. satiety is not that easy to achieve for some of us. blease I'm so hungry

[pbandjesse]

Great and excellent news!!! Crabcake is safe! He showed up this afternoon and I am just so happy that he is okay.

It really was the best end to a pretty bleh day. Me and James agreed that even when things were good it was always with the thought about Crabcake missing. It was a dark cloud. But he's back and he's safe and I'm very happy.

Today was kind of blah though. I slept really well and very deeply. And while I was tired when I woke up I felt a lot better.

I was sad that Crabcake hadn't shown up. But I tried to not feel sad. James made me a runny egg sandwich. Gave me a hug. And sent me to work.

It wasn't a bad drive. I am really enjoying listening to the Swindled podcast right now. And when I got to camp I continued to listen to it while I worked on setting up the printing table inside since it was going to be rainy today. It never rained hard but it drizzled throughout the day and was very grey and finally cool and everyone seemed so happy about that. I was feeling a lot better not being so hot.

The day would be pretty good. I wasn't as quick to get snippy. The kids were sweet. I wasn't worried about materials as much because it was the last day. And I was having fun talking to my coworkers and finishing the 5th ball of yarn for my blanket project. I was having a nice day.

I had a funny morning when a stockade boy walked passed and said "caliente...what does that mean?" And I said. Hot. And he goes "actually it means spicy" and I'm like. Okay same difference I guess. And he goes "actually a very different connotation" but caliente does mean hot! I double checked on Google! Why was this child gaslighting me?

And then not long after that Aaron just came up and said he was in my building last night and was like. "You gotta be careful there's a rat in your building." And I'm like. Why do you think that? And apparently the tarp in the corner was "rustling" and I'm like. Okay? Why do you think that it's a rat and not the mice or the snakes?? And he acted so shocked that there is a snake in my building and was like we should catch it for nature. And I'm like. No?? It controls the mouse population. Again why do you think it's a rat??? I was very confused at the jump.

But thankfully the girl groups were both lovely, though they struggled with listening when we were done and it was kind of frustrating to have someone blatantly do something and smile in your face when you tell them to stop. But then they left and it wasn't my problem anymore.

Lunch was fine. Chicken nuggets and pasta salad. There was cauliflower but I find that to sandy so I didn't get that. I would get frustrated by a conversation about which gas station has the best food and everyone was like Royal farm royal farms! And I'm like everything I've ever tried there has been horrible. And they are like well that's because your a vegetarian and can't get the chicken. And Im like. Okay? But everything else? Wawa is better. But I could feel myself getting to worked up and knew I had to go lay in the AC. I wasn't even hot but I wanted to be cooler.

I walked to our cabin and laid down for a half hour and it was perfect and I'm glad I have started doing this. I would have a snack and watch a video and lay my head down and felt much more human after.

My afternoon was good. All the kids were fun, and were really into the project and that felt good. I had some good conversations with the counselors and I was just really enjoying their company. Both the kids and the big kids (counselors).

Tipis would stay an extra half hour and they were very fun. We would make bead lizards and paint and they watched a video and were laughing and being good kids. Stockade would join us and it was just a good time. It really feels like the best of camp when tipis are there. They are always such a good crew. And I am glad they enjoy hanging out at arts and crafts.

I was happy to go home though. And after cleaning up and setting up for the next week (I covered the table is the cut out bears that gave me a crazy painful blister from cutting the fabric) (I joked to Noah "I bet you can't guess what we're making next week!!" And he made a whole like hemming and hawling but about not being sure of the mystery and we got all the kids in on it until one very literal child goes. "Bears!" And we go omg! He's right!! He solved it!! Just with so much real enthusiasm it was very funny.), and helping Kamal and Jeci find their tyedye shirts I would leave.

And it wasn't a bad drive. I would go to amazing glaze first. Got stuck in a little traffic. And went to get the pieces we made. I love my pond bowl and James turtle looked great. Our house numbers could be better but I am glad we did it. It was fun. Even if I had been having a very bad day at the time.

I drove home and would beat James by a couple minutes. No luck on Crabcake. But I held sweetp and was trying to be good.

James started the oven to cook a frozen pizza and I was going to go take a shower but I went over to Crabcake's tank and then!! He was there!! In his metal hide!! I was so happy to see him. I picked him up to touch our foreheads together. He has never escaped. He was buried deep deep under his water, if the tunnel is to be believed. How we did not find him digging in the box I do not know. I was right about him just sleeping his overheating emergency scare on Wednesday. But man was it scary and I am so so so relieved he's okay.

We got him food and I took a shower and washed hair. I do like my new shampoo but I for sure still need my hair products. Which was my mistake the other day. But we learn. And I feel very nice with my hair right now.

I would hang out on the couch with my husband and we had a nice night on the couch. James would leave me for a bit to replace all of our door knobs and they look so nice. Once the doors are painted properly I'll share. I'm very happy even if the lock mechanism doesn't work in our door. They still look great.

But now we are upstairs together. James made us fresh cookies (which came out huge and we had a very silly laugh about them.) and we shared those upstairs. But now I am very tired. It was a long day. And I am not feeling as burnt out but I am sleepy.

So it is time for bed. And tomorrow I will go to the market and then in the afternoon Jess is coming to get me to go to her coworkers party. I hope I feel good tomorrow. I hope you all feel good. I love you all. I hope you sleep great. Goodnight!!!

[soursvgar]

Happy Birthday Solomon

Pairing: Solomon x gn! reader (+luke and simeon platonic appearances) word count: 1.4k genre: fluff (with slight angst)

"Sometimes we’re fractured by the choices we make; sometimes we’re shattered by things we would never have chosen. But our brokenness is also the source of our common humanity, the basis for our shared search for comfort, meaning, and healing."

Definitely grey, leaning towards lilac, with a dark blue hue. And is that a spectacle of brown you discern?

You blink, trying to dissect Solomon's eye color while he's immersed in yet another advanced magic lesson. After a certain period of time spent in his proximity you conclude that more often than not, he didn't look that different from the demons around you. Are we sure he actually is a human, and didn't instead, cast some spell in order to bypass the RAD waiting list?

"Y/n, were you listening to me just now?" Solomon waves a hand in front of your face, your clueless facade not helping you unmask your case. "As I was saying... if you mix the red liquid with the transparent fluid over here, you will end with an unwanted chemical reaction. So make sure not to synthesize the two." He repeats his explanation, hoping this time you would catch it. "I can tell you're not on your best level of concentration today, y/n. Would you like to call it a day?"

Your apology is accompanied by a slight nod as you rush to head out. Truth is, you promised to hang out with Simeon and Luke and completely forgot about your mentoring appointment, that until Solomon ran into you on your way to town and reminded you of your educationary obligations.

"Sorry for my tardiness, I accidentally double booked. But I'm here now!" You announce, entering the spot you were scheduled to meet your celestial friends in. Both Luke and Simeon greet you with a warm smile, and a devilshake they had ordered in your name.

"You haven't missed a thing, we were waiting for you to discuss the plan for today." Simeon pulls out the chair for you to sit while Luke is taking several stationary items from his bag.

"What's today?" You respond with a puzzled look, mentally going over every seemingly important schedule you could remember. What could you have forgotten?

"Well, today is Solomon's birthday, we were mapping out the details for the celebratory dinner tonight."

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks. Today is Solomon's birthday, and you had just seen him and said nothing the entire time spent together, instead, you made a poor excuse so you can slip away because you failed to even recall your tutoring session. Your stomach turns with guilt, feeling genuinely awful.

"Oh, oh no..." You murmur, drawing a concern look from Simeon. "I completely forgot... I feel terrible. How can I make up for it? Do you guys have any idea what present will amend? I don't even know how many candles to get because he can't remember his own age!"

"Relax, y/n, it's okay! I'm sure he would love anything you will bring him. How about you make him a cake? Something from the human world, I assume he would really appreciate receiving human food made by an actual human." Simeon gently pats your shoulder, attempting to calm you down.

A homemade cake was not the worst idea, and while baking isn't exactly your forte, you are willing to walk the extra mile and at least try to create something edible. After all, it's the thought that counts, right?

Not too long after, you find yourself in the house of lamentation kitchen (after bribing a certain money grubbing demon to keep Beelzebub away, without, of course, filling him in on your actual pursuit.) with some recipes Luke generously donated for your cause. You casually flip through them while shuffling within your memories, working hard to recollect at least one thing that could help you surmise Solomon's possible cake preferences. The only idea you are able to come up with is that his favorite confectionery flavor would most likely turn out to be something bizarre like cauliflower- and, anchovy.

Eventually, you decide to take your chances with a strawberry shortcake that seems to turn out not entirely inadequate, you presume. Grabbing the piping bag, you carefully inscribe your message on top of the finished product to wrap it up.

"Well that certainly look delicious." The call from behind your back frightens you, causing you to completely blunder the last couple of letters. You turn around anxiously, already registering who the familiar voice belongs to.

"Solomon..." You gulp, admitting defeat as you step away from the counter, revealing the scene. You had a whole plan sorted out, starting from neatly tucking the cake into a decorative box and delivering it right before the celebratory dinner at purgatory hall, along with a heart warming birthday card. Solomon dropping by was not part of said plan, however.

"I was worried about you, y/n. You spaced out more than usual this morning, so I wanted to check everything is okay with you." He conveniently ignores the cake, the baking equipment and your guilt ridden stance, only smiling softly at you. "I'm sorry I made you smudge the name on the cake, who is this for? They sure are lucky."

"It-it's for you, Solomon. Isn't it your birthday today?" Perplexed, you inquire. As a matter of fact, if the man forgets how many years he had been existing on earth, it's not all that surprising for him to forget the date he started walking it as well.

"Ah..." he shoots you a look of astonishment, before he burst into a fit of laughter. "That's right, I guess it is my birthday. I've just realized that."

"Well, if I'm being sincere, I also had to be reminded. I'm sorry I haven't said anything earlier..." You nip down on your bottom lip, still full of remorse, despite the latter seeming exceptionally unaffected.

"Don't be." Solomon shakes his head at you in response, dismissing your blame. "Ah... how do I properly put that together in words?" Pausing in thought, he presses his index finger to his pair before he resumes. "I haven't been giving any special attention to my birthday, you see, as someone who existed through many decades, and have witnessed countless changes of the universe, I guess it slowly became a more and more insignificant cause of celebration. To be fair, spending my years among monsters, sorcerers, demons, angels, and other beings of some sorts- I've lost touch with my humanity for awhile now."

"Solomon..." Your face falls, starting to grasp the burden he must had been carrying for years.

"Don't make that face, y/n." His expression remains cheerful, contradicting his verbal speech. "What I was about to pick up on is that... today feels different from my other birthdays. For the past couple of centuries, I've been pacing aimlessly searching for knowledge. I figured that having a deep understanding of the world would grant me with a purpose of sort, or a legacy to leave behind, at least. However, things did not always occur the way I expected them to, or intended them to be. As time passed, I've gained a reputation, and not a good one, to say the least. Demons assumed I'm collecting them to gain power and control over them, witches didn't want me in their circles and regular humans simply were not sure how to decipher me." His gaze was now on you, making sure you follow as you quietly heed. "That is, until you came along, y/n."

"M-Me?" Your eyes widen, feeling the heat rising to color your cheeks with bright redness.

"Yes... you." He hesitates before proceeding as he catches a glimpse of your heated cheeks, causing his own to blemish with a rosy tint. "You only heard dubious rumors of me, I suppose. Yet, you decided to see for yourself and gave me a chance to debunk them. The more time spent in your company, I've started to once more feel it all- the blood pumping through my veins on its way to my face when your warm hand accidentally brush over mine, the comfort of a heart to heart revelation, and most importantly, the ability to be vulnerable without judgment, or fear of being taken advantage of. You've arisen all of those human emotions in me that I've considered forgotten, y/n."

Solomon paces towards you, placing a hand to your cheek, his digits softly caress over your skin as his eyes drown in your orbs. It really was a glint of brown you detected in them; you smile to yourself.

"And for that reason... as much as I appreciate the cake. The only thing I desire as a birthday gift, or wish, is to spend it with you." Craning his neck, he dips his head to your level and press his lips onto yours, using both hands to gently grasp your face between them as he deepens the kiss.

"Well, I've already made it, so... you can have both." You snicker, swiping the smeared part of what was supposed to be Solomon's name in frosting with your finger, then spread it over his mouth as you both laugh.

"Happy birthday, Solomon."

[prcttylittlebirds]

openpassionates​:

VENUS WANTS TO be understanding as possible but discussing such a dark topic did feel a bit awkward for their date. all she can do is gently rub his face and occasionally give him feathery kisses. clearly, he’s been needing to talk to his brother about someone outside of a professional setting. “yeah, i love it but i’ve seen it so many times so i’m not missing out on anything by pausing the movie. we can still enjoy ourselves though. i don’t want you to be down in the dumps.” she smiles once rafael gives her a delicate kiss on the lips. she tries to maintain her happy demeanor but the calls are getting to her. clearly there was something wrong if someone was calling repetitively like that. “so what kind of pizza did you get me? did you answer that already? i’m a little out of it. but i guess we’re both a little distracted.” she hints towards him and how he’s trying to ignore the call. “i’m proud of you for opening up. i’m also proud of you for actually trying to watch the movie.” she teases toward the end, plastering another grin on her face before she gives him a quick kiss. 

“i’m okay, it was starting to get to me, but i’m okay. promise.” rafael assures her. the kisses that they shared always relaxes rafael. he’s been having such a good night so far, and he doesn’t want anything pulling his attention from her. he kisses her again. this time it’s not as gentle, and he lets it go on a little longer than the others. “don’t pause the movie, it’s getting good from what i saw.” he laughs, knowing he’s been half-watching the movie. still, he knows what’s going on, surprisingly. “i got you a veggie pizza, cauliflower crust. the cheese is daiya cheese i think, i know it’s vegan.” he knows that the more his phone buzzes, the more intrigued venus becomes. he’s almost tempted to tell her that his ex is calling, but that would open up the dreaded conversation that he needs to have. rafael knows avoiding the inevitable is stupid, but he doesn’t want venus to think the encounter with his ex was something he set out to do. “i’m gonna listen to the voicemail.” he pulls away from venus so that he can grab his phone. he listens to his ex tell him off, causing him to sigh. luckily, venus couldn’t hear what she was saying. the yelling was clear. he’s sure she heard that. “i’m in hell…” he mumbles. he knows venus will wonder what’s going on and he’ll have to tell her.

[olimpsia]

Guide Lysander episode 2

EDITED: I got the illustration. You need to answer all the right answers. (Lovometer 80. Also maybe the key are the neutral answers? Idk, I marked the ones I used that got me the illustration)

✅ = right answer

❌= bad answer

⚪️= neutral answer

Answers in blue are the one I choose

Dialogue 1:

Lysander:

I can give you a tour of the house after, if you want!

a. Actually, I already had a look around, yesterday, when I was looking for you. ✅ +5

b. Oh. No, you don’t have to. I already had a look around yesterday.

c. Of course, I’d like that! You’ll be able to show me all the places you got into trouble when you were little ⚪️

Dialogue 2:

Lysander:

I’ll admit, I miss it a bit. I don’t play anymore

A. I’ve never liked board games. They always end badly.

B. If you want, we can okay pop-up pirate tonight. I’ve never played. ✅ +5

C. If you have more natura game than pop/yo pirate, we can play…

Dialogue 3:

Lysander:

I’m not sure, there’s a moral to this story, bu I find it amusing.

A. I love listening to you tell your stories.✅ +5

B. I prefer the stories that take place around the table.

C. I think I preferred the kitchen stories. ❌

Dialogue 4

A. (I crouched down to place the piece of cauliflower on the ground)⚪️ (I choose this one when I gained the outdoors, picnic, illustration)

B. (I crouched down and held out the pice of cauliflower) ⚪️

C.(i trow the piece of cauliflower at him) ⚪️ (I choose this one when I gained the indoors illustration)

Dialogue 5.

Lysander:

I’ll fill the watering cans

A. (I took the piece of apple and walked towards the chickens) ⚪️

B. I’d prefer to stay with you. I don’t necessarily feel comfortable alone with the animals. ⚪️

C. (I took a piece of apple and walked towards the goat) ⚪️

Dialogue 6:

Lysander:

Generally for lunch, I just eat something quickly…

A. That’s okay. Well eat better tonight! (I think it’s ❌ -5)

B. No problem, this is great! I usually don’t eat much at lunch either. ⚪️

C. Are you kidding me? I’m going yo be able to taste your tapenade with bread, I’m thrilled! ✅ +5

Dialogue 7:

A. Do you think we still have a lot to do?

B. What do we have left to do this afternoon? ⚪️

C. We still have to feed the cows, right?⚪️

Dialogue 8

Lysander:

Well, there isn’t a particular technique. When you see an apple, you take it and put it in the bag.

A. I could be able to do that!⚪️

B. Would I pick them even if they are a bit bruised and have holes?⚪️

C. All of this? It’s going to take us days! ⚪️

——

After this, go away and come back, you will found Agatha next to a wheelbarrow full of apples.

——

Dialogue 9

Si, what do you think about life on the farm, after your first day?

A. I doubt that white nice. Exotic in any cases it’s Indy unpleasant. ⚪️

B. I really liked it! I feel… really good here✅ +5

C. I… let’s just say it’s not really my natural environment

Dialogue 10.

A. (I set my hand on the handle. He May have unlocked it since yesterday…)

B. (I’ll have to ask Lysander) ✅ +5

C. (Maybe the key is hidden somewhere… under the lamp, for example…?) ⚪️

Dialogue 11. HERE YOU CAN DECIDE WHICH ILLUSTRATION YOU WANT

Lysander:

Are you hungry? I’ll make us something to eat.

A. I’ll come with you, to help. (Lay down illustration)

B. No, i can wait… I want to hear more about what you write (indoors illustration)

Dialogue 12:

Lysander:

Obviously, I write a lot more that Castiel can sing, but at least those that correspond to him travel a little.

A. You don’t have to sing them, you can make a collection of poetry out of them ⚪️

B. Castiel didn’t offer you to continue with him? ⚪️ (but I liked this dialogue)

C. You don’t need anyone to sing the others, do you?⚪️

Dialogue 12.1 (they aren’t 100% right, I played this dialogue in the Spanish server)

Lysander:

Do you mind? Would you like me to buy some for you, tomorrow?

A. I think I’ll be able to last the week

B. No, don’t bother. I should consider it myself.

C. Yo be honest, I don’t eat it either. ⚪️

Dialogue 13:

Lysander: the last time we talked about it on the phone, you weren’t very sure…

A. I’m not even sure I’m going to keep going, if you have to be completely honest. ⚪️

B. ideally, if I want to do research, I’d have to go on to complete a doctorate.

C. I still don’t know. I like what I’m doing right now but…. ⚪️

Dialogue 14:

A. (I cuddle up against him to fall asleep in his arms.)✅ (I think this is +5, I now have 85)

B. Good night Lysander. Sweet dreams. ⚪️

C. (I don’t really feel like sleeping. I’m in the mood for something more… carnal) (I’m not sure, I didn’t checked the lov before replaying the episode, but candy gets frustrated because Lysander just wanted to sleep)

Okay I’m done, if someone knows if the other answers are neutral or negative, please tell me and I’ll edit it

[abundanceofnots]

The door to the darkened alley next to the Alibi Room opens behind him, letting out a jumble of voices and loud music. Mickey expected Ian to find him there sooner or later. That’s why he’s so surprised to see that it’s not his husband pushing the heavy door open with his hip, his hands occupied by holding two glasses of beer, but Tami, his—

Well, whatever they are to each other.

Strangers, mostly. Both holding the title of Gallagher family appendages—the husband and the baby mama—who occasionally shared a laugh over some Gallagher bullshit. But that has always been as far as their relationship went.

“Occupied,” he informs her curtly before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

Tami smiles, undeterred.

“I was actually looking for you,” she explains as she lets the door close behind her, cutting the sounds from the inside to mere thumps again.

“Look, if you’re already tired of your baby daddy’s dick, I can’t say I blame ya, but you’ll have to find someone else because, on principle, I don’t fuck Lip’s sloppy seconds—”

Tami makes a face. “Jesus fuck. Is that really the only reason you can think of why I might want to see you?”

His eyes dart around her head of hair as he tries to look at anywhere but her, suddenly feeling very tense.

“Yeah?”

“Well, fuck you, too. No, here, listen.” She passes him one of the beers. “I saw the way you looked back in there and thought you might wanna talk.”

Mickey’s felt sick all evening. Ever since their big announcement when Ian threw his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, squeezed him tight, and gave him that blinding grin before he told everyone the good news.

There was clapping and noise, so much fucking noise. People were reaching out their hands to tap him on the shoulder or shake his hand, and it made Mickey feel like those hands were all grasping his throat while his blood was pumping in his ears.

His plan was to spend the rest of the party here, where he could breathe again, chain-smoking his way through the ordeal. He thinks he’ll be sick if he drinks anything right now, but he takes the glass from Tami anyway.

“About?” he shoots back noncommittally.

“Why you’re scared.”

On instinct, Mickey scoffs out a laugh. “Fuck off, I ain’t scared.”

“Right,” Tami replies, giving him a pointed look over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. “That why you’re hiding out here during your own party?”

“Just needed to—” Groaning in exasperation, Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose and composes himself. “I just needed a second away from everyone congratulatin’ me. Or callin’ me daddy Milkovich. Or fuckin’ Kermit asking if I was gonna be the mom or the dad—” He cuts himself off again, measuring Tami with a hard stare. “What’s it to you, anyway?

She responds with a sincere smile.

“Believe it or not, I was scared of having a baby, too.”

Mickey’s brows furrow in confusion. “That why you decided to have another?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not scared anymore.”

“Sounds fuckin’ stupid.”

“Maybe,” Tami admits with half a shrug.

They spend the next few minutes in silence, Tami drinking her beer and Mickey finishing his smoke, his own beer left untouched.

“But you’re a chick, you know, so it’s different,” Mickey states resolutely after he lights another cigarette, confident he’s found an argument she couldn’t dispute. “You have, like, all those motherly instincts and shit. I don’t.”

For some reason, she snorts and shakes her head. Then, her expression softens again, and she says, “I have it on good authority that there’s one little boy who basically worships the ground you walk on.”

“He’s five. Fuck does he know,” he retorts back derisively, immediately chastising himself because Freddie knew a lot, in fact. Most importantly, how to get underneath Mickey’s skin.

Not that he didn’t love and pester Ian just as much, obviously. Everyone loved Ian, the charming motherfucker. But Mickey and the kid had a special bond, much to Lip’s irritation.

Freddie was one of the main reasons Mickey decided that he was ready to have kids all those months ago. He isn’t so sure of it now, though.

He takes another drag and lets the smoke out through his nose.

“I never thought I’d be this,” he explains ambiguously, not just meaning being a guy who gives enough shit to smoke outside a bar. “Always knew how to survive. I was good at that. I was gonna see forty, most of it behind bars, maybe fifty, if I was lucky enough and didn’t lose a fuckin’ limb at some shitty construction job. And then, one day, I wake up to a tire iron to my spine—”

“If that’s a metaphor, I don’t follow.”

“—and next thing I know, I have a whole ass husband, a fuckin’ condo on the West Side like some yuppie, and I catch myself sayin’ things like, fuck it, let’s have a kid. What’s wrong with me? I can’t fuckin’ do this, can I?”

The truth he’ll never admit to anyone, probably, is that Tami’s right. He is scared. Fucking terrified, really. Because there’s a kid who will have him for a dad, and Mickey feels sorry for it.

The poor bastard isn’t even a proper baby yet. It’s just a sonogram stuck to their fridge. A baby-like matter that Ian’s app insists is the size of cauliflower now. When Mickey finally managed to spot one in Whole Foods, he found himself apologizing to it for some bizarre reason.

He doesn’t want to be like his dad. He wants to do this right, but he doesn’t know if he knows how.

“The most important thing?” Tami breaks the silence then, reading Mickey’s reaction correctly even when he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t bail on this kid. Or Ian, because he’ll need you to be there just as much.”

Mickey bites his cheek and nods. There’s a chance he’d say more, ask Tami for advice even, maybe, if, at that very second, Ian didn’t come out to join them, bursting out of the alleyway door as if summoned.

“There’s the pops-to-be!” he cheers a little too loudly with a smile that splits his whole face. He stumbles forward on clumsy feet and envelops Mickey tightly in his arms. “I was looking for you.”

“Fuckin’ octopus-man,” Mickey laughs, careful not to let the drunk idiot spill his beer. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Just a couple beers,” Ian answers as he nuzzles into Mickey’s neck.

“Such a fuckin’ lightweight.”

Humming his agreement, Ian snags Mickey’s glass and knocks down most of its contents in one go. He belches before saying in a low voice, “I was planning on dragging your ass to the bathroom later and having my way with you, but since we’re already here, alone...”

He already has his free hand palming at Mickey’s dick over his jeans when Tami makes a sound behind him, something between a snort and a cough.

Ian’s eyes take a minute to properly zero in on her.

“Tami! Hey!” he greets her with exaggerated excitement. “You’re here, too. Why are you here, too? Something wrong?”

Tami looks pointedly at Mickey. “Wanna tell him, or should I?”

He seriously considers being honest for a second, but his next words are out before he can stop them.

“Your brother’s girlfriend was tryna jump me.”

Tami almost chokes on the incredulous huff of laughter she lets out. She finishes her beer and shakes her head, staring Mickey down.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Mickey, I swear to God. Forget I ever said anything,” she barks at him as she goes for the door.

“Hey, Tami,” Mickey stops her last minute. “Thanks, or whatever.”

Tami rolls her eyes. Still, just before she slips back inside, she throws a quick smile over her shoulder.

“Did you just thank her for trying to fuck you?” Ian inquires stupidly when the door closes behind her.

“Sure,” Mickey sounds off without further explanation.

He turns back to his husband and lightly pats his cheek, letting his hand slide all the way down to his junk in hopes of pointing his attention in the right direction again. “So, about those plans you had—“

But all of a sudden, Ian’s white as a sheet, giving him a look of absolute horror.

“What?” Mickey asks, mirroring his look.

“Think I’m gonna puke.”

“’ Course you are,” Mickey has enough time to groan before Ian bends in half and proceeds to throw up on the sidewalk.

Mickey takes a few steps away, trying to give Ian some privacy, but he’s stopped by a hand clutching his wrist and pulling him back.

“I’m so sorry, Mick,” Ian says in between spits as his hand slides down to hold Mickey’s awkwardly.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Mickey tells him gently—just as gently as he strokes his back in big circles. “I’m here.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙4

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (to be warned later in series)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Well, at long last you get another chapter of Andy Barber and I’m just as impatient all y’all!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

Andy's perfect suburban neighbourhood was enough to make you feel out of place. His house only added to that boiling insecurity as he pulled into the wide driveway. He kept his calm but taunting silence up as classic rock continued to blare from the radio, interrupted by jarring jingles and ridiculous radio jockey banter.

As he killed the engine, the sudden silence hit you like a wall. You opened the car door but found it hard to go much further. The door shut and you planted your hand against it. 

Andy startled you as he came up beside you, your suitcase rolling behind him as your large tote was slung over his shoulder. You made to grab the bag and he waved you away.

"Come on," He nodded to the house, "You said you were tired. I'll get you settled and you can rest."

You frowned but said nothing. You walked ahead of him around the front of his car and up the mosaic path that led to his front door. He fished around in his pocket and brushed against you as he reached to unlock the front door. He pushed it open and waited for you to enter.

The place looked straight out of a catalogue. White furniture!? Who in their right mind lived like this. It would be like living in a museum. You inched inside and stopped short in front of Andy as a photo of his wife and kid met you on the small side table just beside the couch. He barely kept from colliding with you.

He dropped your bag against the wall and let your suitcase go. He reached around you and took the picture. He cleared his throat and stepped away. You watched him through the wide archway that opened up on the other side of the staircase. You could barely see him as he went to the kitchen and shoved the frame in a drawer.

He returned, his eyes avoiding you and gathered up your bags. He edged past you, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to look back at you.

"Well, you coming?" He asked and started up the staircase.

You followed a few feet back as his footfalls echoed around you. He led you down the hallway and pulled closed a door as he passed. You glanced the posters on the wall and a seemingly interrupted scene still set up within. The snap of the clasp kept you going.

He turned back at the next doorway and sighed. He shrugged and nodded to it.

"I'm just across the hall," He said. "And you'll have... space."

His tone was sour and you didn't miss the tic in his jaw. He waited until you stepped ahead of him and opened the door yourself. He pushed your suitcase just inside and set your bag on the bed. A floral quilt was pulled across the top as similar flowers hung in oval frame along the wall.

"Never really had many guests," He said as he pushed back his jacket and gripped his hips. "Don't even know if anyone but me ever slept in here. You know, had a beer too many and... well, you take a nap and we'll talk when you get up."

"I can find somewhere else," You said.

"You won't," He insisted. "Not now. Talk later." He went to the door and grabbed the handle, pausing before he could pull it shut behind him. "I've got some work to finish up. I'll be in my office. Downstairs, just off the front room. Just by the Sox banner."

"Sure," You turned away in resignation. "I guess I'll find you."

A long exale came from him just before he slowly pulled the door closed. You listened for the click then hung your head. How did this man expect to start a new family when his old one still lived here? It didn't matter how many pictures he hid, he couldn't just push them out.

🌙

Once you laid down, it wasn't hard to fall asleep. The days had piled atop your eyelids and dragged you down into a heavy doze. You awoke on your side, your arm trapped beneath you and tingling. You groaned and sat up, your head ached with each move.

You yawned and looked out the window. It was dark. You rubbed your eyes and did your best to rouse yourself. The house was silent. You inched the door open and listened. You crept out and headed down the hall to the stairs. Again, you listened and heard nothing.

You descended and went to the kitchen. You found a tall glass from the cupboard and filled it from the tap. As you turned around, the rim just before your lips, you jumped at the shadow that appeared in the archway. 

Andy flicked the light on. He leaned on the wooden frame and crossed his arms. His button up was rolled up past his elbows and his hair was mussed as if he'd been running his fingers through it over and over. You choked on the water and steadied yourself.

"Hey," You coughed. "What's, uh, I was just... thirsty."

"It's fine. By all means," He uncrossed his arms and stood straight. 

He neared the end of the island that stood parallel to the sink. You set your glass down on it nervously. 

"I... just woke up. I thought maybe you were already... sleeping." You said. You were hoping, actually.

"No, not yet. You hungry?" He asked.

"Not really," You replied. "Thanks."

"You should eat. What did you have today?"

"I... um," You tried to think. You'd had half a club sandwich at the diner. "I had a sandwich and um, a cookie on the way home."

"That's hardly enough for two," He neared the corner of the island. "I'm not a bad cook. I could make you something. Or order something?"

"Really, it's fine--"

"It's not--" He raised his hand to calm himself. "It's not fine. You're carrying my child. You starve myself, you starve them. So... eat." He turned and opened the fridge. "I've got some hummus and veggies you can munch on and uh, thin crust pizza I can toss in."

He turned and set down a tupperware of celery, carrots, and cauliflower along with a container of hummus. He closed the fridge and opened the freezer with a puff of cool air. He took out a thin crust cheese and spinach pizza.

He went to the stove and held down the temperature button. He turned back and opened the box as he waited for the over to preheat. He took out the pizza and peeled away the plastic. He left it on the counter and came closer again. He pulled the lid off the tupperware and the smaller container.

"Eat," He said. "Is everything gonna be this difficult?"

You scowled and grabbed a carrot stick. You scooped up a glob of hummus and bit into with zeal, all the while staring him down. You smiled at him with mouth full and chewed.

"So, can we talk or are you going to continue to act like a child?" He asked.

"I don't know, are you going to keep acting like my dad," You huffed.

He blinked and shook his head.

"I'm open to compromise but if you're gonna be like this, I won't be so understanding," He hissed. "So sit," He pushed a tall stool towards you. "And eat."

"Yes, father," You climbed up on the stool and grabbed some celery.

"I always thought it was 'daddy'," He raised his brow. You scoffed at his bad joke.

The oven dinged and he shoved the pizza inside. He set the time and stood across the island from you. He put one hand on his hip as his other gripped the edge of the marble.

"Tomorrow, you make an appointment." He said.

"Sure," You picked out a piece of cauliflower. 

"And you can't keep working two jobs. You gotta drop one." He stated. "It's not good for you or the baby."

"You can't just make me give up my livelihood." You argued.

"Livelihood? How much do you think you make in a year? Probably no where close to twenty grand. I make at least five times. We can afford for you not to kill yourself--"

"'We'?!" You exclaimed. "Andy, there is no we."

He slapped the countertop suddenly and swore.

"Fuck's sake. You know for someone so damn helpless you sure do hate help!" He snarled. "It's like you want... you want this to go wrong. Everything has to go wrong so you can keep being the innocent little victim of your own life."

You recoiled and swallowed your mouthful. You threw the carrot stick in your hand at him. He batted it away easily.

"You don't fucking know me," You spat. "So don't you judge me."

"I know you fucked me in the toilet after about twenty minutes," He snickered.

You took the hummus and wipped it at him too. It splattered across his front and the container bounced across the counter.

"After three drinks, on top of several before," You snapped. "I don't have to explain myself to you." You got off the stool. "I don't want your fucking pity or whatever you're doing. I'm not going to be your little project."

You swept around the island but he caught your arm and pulled you back. The garlic from the hummus filled your nostrils and woke your hormonal hunger.

"Where are you going to go? You think I want you sleeping with my baby on the street?" He squeezed, hard. "And whatever you want to call it, my pity is better than the alternative."

"Let go," You wriggled in his grasp.

"You really wanna be a little bitch over a cafe gig?" He lowered his voice. "You walk out, I'll find you. I will not stop," He sneered. "You got it?"

"You're hurting me," You gritted through your teeth.

"Tomorrow you tender your resignation," He growled as his other hand came up to frame your chin. "Right?"

"Stop--"

"To-mor-row," He said decisively.

"Tomorrow," You uttered softly. "Okay?"

He smiled and nodded, slowly releasing you. He pulled loose his tie and slipped it over his head and unbuttoned his short. He slid it back down his shoulders and bared his chest. He approached the broad archway as he shed the shirt entirely. He stopped and turned to glance over his shoulder.

"I gotta clean myself up," He said. "I expect you to clean up the rest."

He left you and you squinted at the doorway. What an asshole. You took several deep breaths then took several sheets of papertowel from above the sink. You wiped the hummus from the counter and the floor and tossed the towel. You picked up the errant carrot stick as well and the oven beeped.

Everything about this kitchen was idyllic. It was the perfect suburban haven. The oven mitts, printed with an image of cheese and grapes, hung from the cupboard just beside the stacked ovens. You took them and pulled out the rack. You eased the pizza onto a plate and set it on the counter. You snapped the oven shut and turned it off after a brief struggle with the buttons.

Andy reappeared as you turned back, he wore a grey tee a some plaid pajama pants. Even in the bar, having done what you'd done, you'd never seen him without his suit. He was always the staunch lawyer man, even with a belly full of whiskey. Now he just looked like some guy.

"Two bulletpoints down," He said as he went to the drawer and searched for the pizza cutter. "I'd like to sort this out tonight. I have a long day tomorrow."

"Fine," You took the cutter from him and sliced the pizza into triangles. "What else can I do to appease you, your majesty?"

"For one, you will not be working beyond six months," He stated. "Can't risk it. Especially with those heavy trays."

"Six months? You know, they would accomodate me--"

"I'm a lawyer. You know how many workplaces are dragged into court for not accomodating employees?" He interjected.

"I'm a lawyer," You mimicked. "I get it. Six months."

"House rules," He raised his index, "Home before nine when you're not closing, but I'd prefer it if you stuck to day shifts," He instructed, "I'm pretty good about housework." He went tot he fridge and took down a notepad that had been pre-printed with a roster of chores. "We can switch off with dishes. I do laundry on Sundays but I take my dry-cleaning in on Friday. Sweeping and mopping, about once a week. I can take care of that if you can do a bit of dusting and tidying in the living room."

You stared at him. Was everything about his life so ordained? Well, surely not fucking a stranger ins a bar.

"I think I can clean up after myself," You sniffed. "Curfew, cleaning, good, got it."

"Right," He said gruffly, "And in regards to your care, you will inform me of all your appointments and medical concerns."

"Okay."

"And, I don't mind if you have friends over but let me know ahead of time," He continued. "No guys."

"What?" You chuckled dryly. "What are they gonna do? Knock me up again?"

"No guys," He snarled. "I mean it." You stared at him. You shook your head and he shoved the plate at you. "Eat."

You took a piece, the cheese stringy as it clung to the next. You bit into it and swallowed before you found your voice.

"Andy, this isn't-- we fucked in a bathroom," You muttered. "You can't think--"

"My house, my rules," He warned. "Now, you have your own room and freedom to anything inside this house. That's it. Fair trade. This isn't a negotiation."

"Fucking lawyer," You rolled your eyes. "You know, we get you in the diner all the time. You complain about the fucking food yet you're barely paying pocket change for a damn omelet then you don't even leave a tip. Write something on the receipt like 'resilience is more valuable than any bill'."

He laughed and ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Well, with an attitude like that, I can't imagine you ever getting stiffed..." He said. "...on a tip."

"Alright, I play by your stupid rules until this damn thing is out of me," You sneered. "That's it."

"Good girl," He smiled. "Now have a few more slices and you're free for the night."

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter two: i’m screwed

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 3.1K

A/N: you guys are? the? best? i’m so thrilled that you guys like the story and i hope you like this chapter, too.  i’d like to thank my emotional support llamas @ladyartemesia and @taetaewonderland for being the amazing people they are and beta reading for me, too. they really are the best.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

************************

“What’s with the muscle?”

Donghyuk looks over his menu, eyes narrowed on the man just behind you.  You sip your wine as you decide on how you want to answer that.

Jung Hoseok is seated at a table for one, barely three feet away.  If you thought spending the last four days with him under one roof had been the most awkward stretch of your entire life, then you were dead wrong.

Tonight is infinitely more awkward.  

“Personal security,” you say casually, picking up your menu to peruse the entrees for effect.

Donghyuk’s answering huff of agitation is loud -- probably loud enough for Hoseok to hear and your skin prickles with embarrassment.

“You need security to have dinner with me now?”

“Don’t be silly,” you say under your breath, hoping Donghyuk will take the hint and lower his voice.  “I’m getting some heat on the Kwon and Lim case, so it’s just a precaution. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” he deadpans, one skeptical eyebrow raised.  “I see you every day at work. How is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“Must have slipped my mind,” you say with nonchalance, looking back to your menu.  

You should be deciding on something to eat but your mind is wandering.  You wonder if Hoseok has ever been to this restaurant before. You wonder if he purposely picked a table where he could see you but you couldn’t see him. You wonder what he plans to order.

You wonder --

“Well, you’re sending him home for the night, right?”

Your wine glass thumps against the linen tablecloth when you set it down with more force that you’d intended. A flush creeps up your neck.

How much of this conversation can Hoseok hear from his vantage point?  The thought makes the tips of your ears warm as you fix your dinner date and occasional hookup partner with a warning glare.   Smart as Donghyuk is -- with the law degree to prove it -- he can be downright thick sometimes.  

‘No,” you say quietly.

He narrows his eyes.

“No, you don’t want to? Or no, you can’t?”

You blow out one long, irritated breath.

“‘Hyuk, I’m about two seconds from walking out of here,” you hiss. “Can we just drop this?”

He stops just short of frowning, eyes sliding back over your shoulder to Hoseok.

“And for the love of God, quit staring at him.”

Donghyuk slams his menu shut.

**********************

Jung Hoseok is like a ghost in your home.

He moves with a practiced stealth that makes it hard for you to keep track of what room he’s in at any given time.  He’s awake when you wake and still awake when you head to your room at night.

You have no idea when the man sleeps or when he eats.

Conversations -- if you can call them that -- are stilted and awkward. Short discussions limited to working out the logistics of your day.  You tell him where you need to be and when and he makes it happen.  

Apart from that, there is silence -- thick and suffocating and constant.

In fact, Hoseok is so silent inside your home that when you’ve retreated to your opposite corners of the apartment you could almost pretend that things are normal.  You could almost pretend that you don’t have a complete stranger living in your home.

But then you catch a scent.

It’s the smell of coffee that greets you when you wake every morning to a freshly-brewed pot.

It’s the clean, masculine smell that wafts under his bedroom door, carried on humid air after he’s showered.

And sometimes it’s the scent of gun oil that creeps into your room at night when he’s cleaning his pistol, bringing back memories you’d thought were long lost.  Memories you’d hoped were long lost.

That’s the scent that always brings you back to your senses -- the one that reminds you that the man under your roof isn’t just any houseguest.  

He might not look like the battered thugs who worked for your father all those years, but underneath the designer suits and composed exterior is a man cut from the very same cloth.  

And you’d better not forget it.

***********************

The sunlight beating down on the window to your office this morning is deceptive.  

Behind the protection of the thick glass, it’s powerful enough to make you feel uncomfortably warm in your lightweight sweater -- but outside it’s bitter cold.

Hoseok is parked just across the street from your building, like he has been every day this week.  You can’t help but notice there isn’t any steam coming out of the exhaust of the sleek black sedan and you wonder if he’s warm enough in there.

“You busy?”

Hyejin interrupts your thoughts with a knock at your office door.  

“Not at all,” you sigh, turning to smile at her before taking a seat at your desk.  “I should be busy, I just seem to keep finding ways to put things off.”

“Tell me about it,” she laughs. “Listen, I was looking for the photos we got from the Daerim warehouse. I can’t find them in the file and thought maybe you pulled them for something.”

“No, I haven’t pulled them,” you say, lips pursing into a frown as your hands skate over the papers on your desk.  You flip the corners of the folders up, checking to see if the photos are hidden underneath.  “They’ve got to be here somewhere.  Maybe Hajoon took them?”

Hyejin nods. “Yeah, maybe.  I’ll check with him.  You alright this morning?”

Tense laughter bubbles up your chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a lot going on, is all. Let me know when you find those photos, okay?”

“Will do,” Hyejin promises before leaving you alone to your work and your thoughts.

Hyejin is probably the closest thing you have to a friend — but there’s no way you’d tell even her that your brother thinks someone is trying to kill you and you’re living with an armed guard.

That’s not a conversation you can have with anyone.

You grab a drink, straighten up your papers and get to work.

The raid at the Daerim warehouse turned up enough guns to arm the entire city.  Police spent hours unpacking weapons from giant crates, hidden inside huge sacks of coffee beans and offloaded from a ship that docked from Colombia.  The coffee was pretty decent, actually.

As for the guns -- you knew the Ssijog leadership was furious about the confiscation. In all, investigators estimated they took about 7 billion won worth of firearms out of that warehouse that day.  That’s the kind of financial hit that could level any criminal organization, including your brother’s.

What you can’t seem to understand is why the Ssijog seem more worried about the men taken away at that raid than the guns.

You take a close look at the side-by-side booking photos of Kwon Jiho and Lim Joowon.

These are the kind of men who look like the muscle your father kept around. Heavily-tattooed, thick-necked and ears cauliflowered from one too many fights.  Their criminal records read like street gangster templates, page after page of petty crimes starting in their youth graduating to more violent crimes in recent years.

Men like these are a dime a dozen in this line of work.  So what makes these two so special that the Ssijog are this desperate to get them back?

You pull a post-it note out of your drawer and grab a sharpie. In big block letters you write the question you have to answer before this situation really spirals out of control.

WHAT DO THEY KNOW?

****************************

Car rides are the only time you let yourself get a good look at Jung Hoseok.

When he’s driving, his eyes never leave the road, never stray in your direction -- and you refuse to make him feel like some kind of glorified chauffeur by riding in the backseat.  So you use the silent drives as an opportunity to steal glances at him from the passenger seat like a shy kid.

Hoseok has strangely elegant hands for a man with a career in crime, you think. Long fingers free of scratches and calluses; prominent veins that move when his hand works over the gear shift.  And then there is his face -- his chiseled jawline and sharp nose and bow-shaped mouth.

He’s handsome, of course, and you -- a woman with a pulse and perfectly-functioning eyesight -- would be lying if you tried to deny it.

Tonight you are so distracted with looking at Hoseok’s face that you miss the fact that he’s skipped the turn he normally takes to get back to your apartment.  It isn’t until you are well into the heart of downtown that you snap out of your stupor and take a look outside.

“Where are we going?”

“Your brother wants to see you.”

Your scowl is wasted on the man because he doesn’t bother to look your way.

“So is this how things work now? You and my brother decide where I go and when and I’m the last to know?”

Hoseok is unmoved by your obvious irritation.

“Just following orders,” he counters evenly. “You’ll need to take up any concerns you have about your schedule with Namjoon.”

“I’ll do that,” you murmur, turning to glare out the window.  

A short while later you’re walking into your brother’s office, Hoseok trailing closely behind.  Namjoon signals for him to leave the two of you alone to speak privately.  You round on him as soon as the door latches behind Hoseok.

“If you want me here,” you say tightly, “Then tell me. Directly. I don’t like finding out I have plans second-hand from my babysitter.”

The corners of Namjoon’s mouth lift into a wry smile.  “Good to see you too?”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile back. Your brother seems at ease tonight, lighter somehow.  It’s a good look on him.

“I want to know how things are going,” he says, leaning back into his chair. “How are you finding Jung Hoseok?”

Let’s see. Frigid? Intense? Unapproachable?

“He’s...quiet,” you say after a long moment.  “And maybe unnecessary at this point. I haven’t had any more trouble since that letter.”

“I assure you, he’s still very necessary,” Namjoon returns quickly.  “We’ve still got a lot to work out as far as this situation goes. My guys on the street say the Ssijog are in planning mode. I don’t want any of them catching us unaware with some kind of nasty surprise.”

You sigh.  “So no end in sight.”

“Not right now. Just bear with this a bit longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your buzzing phone.

Your mouth pulls into a tight line when you read the waiting message.

hyejin: can’t find the pictures. hajoon doesn’t have [ 6:15 PM ]

you: ? i have backup on my laptop [ 6:17 PM ]

hyejin: okay need to make sure we have those tonight? [ 6:18 PM ]

you: yeah, i’ll call you from my place when i get them [ 6:18 PM ]

“Everything alright?” Namjoon asks when you rub your fingers against your temples.

“Yeah, just work stuff,” you sigh, a low-level anxiety simmering in your stomach. “I actually have to go, unless there’s something else you needed?”

“No, just—“ your brother looks like there’s something he wants to say, but decides against it.  “— just be careful, okay?”

You nod and send him a small smile.

“I’ll try.”

You’re almost to the door when you hear him call out to you again.

“And Amsaja -- with Hoseok.  Try being nice.”

He nearly laughs at the disgusted look you shoot back.

*****************************

HOSEOK

Hoseok’s got a pretty good idea of what a prosecutor makes in this town, and it’s damned sure not enough to pay for your lifestyle.

Your spacious apartment in one of the best buildings in town, your expensive furnishings, your fancy car and your designer clothes.  Hoseok has done the math in his head and that shit does not add up.

You’re a hypocrite, he decides -- too good to associate yourself with the trash that brings money in for the Gajog, but apparently not too good to spend it.  Living comfortably on the backs of men you wouldn’t acknowledge in the streets.

Men like him.

Hoseok wishes that didn’t get under his skin the way it does.  

He wishes he didn’t feel resentment simmering under the surface every time he sees you, every time he even thinks of you.  You keep to yourself and you don’t make demands and you haven’t really given him a reason to dislike you, but he desperately wants to.  

He needs to.

He wishes he truly didn’t give a shit about the idiot you had dinner with the other day.  The one straight off the assembly line of some prep school in the Seocho District.  The one with the loud mouth and the loafers and the country-club grin.  He wonders what you see in that guy, when all he can see is how punchable his face looks.

That’s why Hoseok doesn’t give too much weight to the furtive looks he can see you stealing in his peripheral vision.  He doesn’t put too much stock in the way your cheeks color when he looks at you sometimes.  He has to remind himself that underneath the polite distance and pretty packaging, you’re just desperate to be done with this entire situation.  You’re desperate to distance yourself from him and people like him.  

When he finds himself staring at you when you’re not looking, Hoseok forces himself to remember that men like him don’t warm your bed, they pay your bills.

And he’d better not forget it.

**************************

Hoseok can read the agitation in your body language loud and clear the second you slide back into the car.

He can see the way you keep scrolling through your phone, firing off texts and emails from the passenger seat. Tonight, you stare out of the window instead of pretending not to stare at him and he wonders what happened behind closed doors with your brother.

He almost lets it go because it’s none of his business. But he’s curious.

“Are you...upset about something?”

You seem to startle when he asks the simple question.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of,” you admit quietly, eyes falling back to your phone. “Work stuff.  I have to find something when we get home.”

Hoseok nods, eyes glued to the road.  “We’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks,” you say, turning to look out the window again.

Minutes later, you’re both walking into the apartment.  Hoseok turns to secure the deadbolt lock and when he turns back, you’re gone.  He hears the room to your bedroom click closed.  

He briefly entertains the idea of asking you if you need help, but resists.

Instead he sweeps the open rooms of the apartment like he does every night before heading into his room and closing the door.

************************

The knock that comes almost two hours later is just short of aggressive.  Hoseok jumps up off the bed, ready in the case of trouble.

He does not miss the way your eyes go a bit wide when he opens the door, dressed in a thin tank and sweatpants.

“You need something?” he asks when you don’t say anything right away.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” you say with a shake of your head. “I’ve just never seen you in anything but a suit.  For a second I wasn’t sure you were the same man.”

“You think I sleep in a suit?”

“Well I wouldn’t put it past you,” you say hotly.  “But that’s not the point. I need you to take me to the office. Please.”

Hoseok glances at his watch.

“Now?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “I know it’s late and I’m sorry. This is super important.”

“Alright, hang on,” Hoseok says, turning to grab his holster from the dresser.  He slips into it and notices your gaze lingering on the pistol he fits onto his side.  You clear your throat and look down at the floor while he slips a sweatshirt overhead.

“It’s just a precaution, okay?”

Hoseok doesn’t know why he’s bothering to reassure you.  You know that he’s armed all the time, you grew up in this life.  None of this should surprise you.

You say nothing.

It takes only ten minutes to get across town to your office, in the dead of night and in the absence of traffic.  You look almost as irritated as you are surprised when Hoseok climbs out of the car to escort you inside.

“You’re coming in?”

“Yes,” Hoseok fires back, keeping pace just behind you.  “It’s well after hours. No one will see us together, since that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You stop for a moment, turning to face him and mouth opening like you want to deny it.  But you don’t.  

“Fine,” you say under your breath. “Please avoid looking at the cameras.”

“I know how to do my job,” Hoseok manages between gritted teeth.  

“I never said you didn’t,” you hiss back.

The two of you stand just outside the entrance to the building, trading glares.  

The tension feels like a step backward somehow.

One strained elevator ride later, Hoseok trails you into your office.  You flip the lights and immediately get to work going through file cabinets.  Hoseok takes a look around.

It’s not a huge space, but the large windows looking out onto the street make it look a little bigger.  Piles of file folders and papers are sorted into neat columns on your desk.  A desk, Hoseok notes -- completely devoid of personal effects.  No pictures, no mementos.  He doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.

“Shit.”

It’s the first word either one of you has spoken in five minutes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Hoseok turns to find you on your knees at the base of a filing cabinet, a pile of flash drives scattered across the floor.

“What is it?” he asks, crouching down beside you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, covering your face with your hands.  

Hoseok picks up a flash drive, turns it to the side to read the small label.  It’s dated three years back, with the name “Cheon” written on the side.

“All of my digital evidence is gone. All of it,” you whisper, voice wobbling with emotion.  “I was searching the cloud at home and thought there was some kind of mistake. There’s no way this is a mistake. There’s no way my cloud and flash backups disappeared by chance.”

You’re right, of course, but Hoseok doesn’t voice that out loud.  You look stricken already without him pouring salt in that wound.

“What about these?” he asks, handing you the flash drive.  

“Old cases,” you say, shoving a hand through your hair.  “They didn’t bother to pull my old cases. Whoever took them knew exactly what they were looking for.”

Hoseok almost forgets himself for a moment.  

He nearly forgets who you are and who he is and what this is. He stops himself just short of reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder.  

You turn tired eyes up to meet his.

“I’m screwed.”

**************************

tag list!

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[scarred-but-still-smiling]

okay curious anon (but not on anon lol):

what's your favorite season? whats your favorite holiday in the season? what's your comfort food? what's a food most people like that you hate? what is the worst texture in the world? what's the song you've been listening to on repeat lately? what is the first fandom you've ever been in? like very very first? what are you having for dinner? how many pillows do you sleep with? which celebrity do you think is the hottest? what is a celebrity that everyone says is hot that you think is ugly? what is the last animal you pet? was it a good petting experience? what beverage do you drink most often (soda, water, etc). when do you usually get up/go to bed? do you make your bed most days? what's your comfort video game? what's your favorite candle scent? do you have any piercings? if not, do you want any? what's your most harmless unpopular opinion?

also, texan questions bc it's me here: do you like dr. pepper? have you ever had dr. pepper float? what abt hot dr. pepper? how well do you handle heat? do you like lizards/snakes? have you ever had bbq? was it good?

no pressure to answer all of them if it's too much <333

Hi Tony!

Okay so

My favourite season is autumn because I love the colours and also despite my anxiety I will always love the theatrics of Halloween

My favourite holiday is Halloween followed by Easter bc while I'm not religious I do very much love sweets and chocolates

My comfort food is my mum's roast dinners. I still remember the beef roast she made me for my 21st birthday and it's still the best thing I've ever had

Pears. Fuckin hate them. The taste I don't mind, it's pretty nice, but the texture of every pear I've ever eaten has been gritty and/or grainy and it's been sensory hell

Worst texture eating wise is half cooked onion. I can't articulate why exactly but it's like nails on a chalkboard I swear to fuck. Worst texture touch wise is slimy. Like, not quite slippery and not quite sticky but also both at the same time. Hate hate hate hate hate

I haven't been actively listening to music lately but I did buy Skul the Hero Slayer yesterday so like. The tracks for the first area? Yeah that'll do

I believe my very very very first fandom was Doctor Who, followed pretty closely by Professor Layton and then Ace Attorney

I had some pasta with cauliflower and carrots and a tomato sauce. Just something I can throw together pretty quick

I mean. I have two pillows in my pillow case right now but they're both pretty flat (that's why there's two of them)

Idk really I don't really give a shit about celebrities?

Again, I don't know lol. Though I will say I never understood what people saw in Bangkok Catapult all those years ago, he was never my type.

I think? It was a random lil doggo with cocker spaniel ears that I saw in town a couple days ago

Yes it was a good pet, was a very nice doggo

Water. I tend to keep a big 2l bottle of water in my room next to my bed so I don't have to use much energy to stay hydrated

I usually start winding down around 11pm, but I don't get to sleep until like 1am at the latest. And waking up is anywhere from 9am to noon depending on how much of an asshole my body wants to be (to be clear, waking up later is much preferred)

I do not, I spend most of my day in bed since that's the only place in my room with decent back support so there's really no point lol

Hmm I don't think I have a comfort video game honestly. I tend to just play until I'm done with the story stuff and then get bored and move on. ADHD will do that to you

Lavender I think. Honestly I've never really been able to afford fancy candles? And since my mum is allergic to perfume there was a very limited range of scents she can have without choking

I do not have any piercings yet

I'm considering it. I'm not sure but I'm definitely considering it

My most harmless unpopular opinion is that Hawaiian pizza is The Best Pizza. I will die on this hill, come at me.

I don't think I've actually tried Dr Pepper honestly. Like the option is there, I can buy it from Fred's (local newsagents where u can get pops and sweets and stuff. Idk why we call it Fred's we just do) I just haven't gotten around to it yet

Honestly the thought of putting anything dairy based in a carbonated drink with a high acid content is very off-putting I'm afraid

Wouldn't that just make it go flat?

Absolutely awful because two of the three main medications I'm on are the type to fuck up thermoregulation. I'm shit with the cold too.

I love reptiles very much I would like to touch one one day

Not for many many many years have I had a BBQ

It was very nice though, obviously very under seasoned as British Food (derogatory) tends to be, but it didn't make me sick so there's that

This was fun!!

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Edward the Blue Engine, Keeper of Sudrian Secrets

... ft. FC2 and head canons on several other topics from the early books

Edward has always loved hearing stories. Over the years has only become more and more avid a gossip hound, and people (meaning both people and engines) seem to find him a good listener.

Put this altogether, and after over a century on Sodor he knows where alllllllll the bodies are buried, you know? 

Okay, not alllllll of them. But a lot!   

And, of course, we're talking figurative bodies ... mostly. He only knows about one clandestinely buried body. Well, maybe two. Tops.   

Now, this is true to some degree of all the Sodor engines. But there are a laundry list of reasons why Edward's a rather extreme example of this trope. Frequent idleness in his early years kind of forced him to hone a genuine interest in others. He happens to have above-average human facial recognition, too (which engines are generally not gifted with—hence frequently nicknaming their most important people based on the most obvious thing about their appearance, because for the most part All Humans Look Alike to them). 

And, of course, it helps that Edward's been on the N.W.R. for damn near the whole show. He might have only arrived seven or eight years before Henry and Gordon, but those years were huge as far as context for the sea change that the big engines represented. 

(Thomas was there even a few months earlier, of course. But I headcanon Thomas as having terrible long-term memory—in part to explain why upon meeting Trevor he's all 'wtf - a ‘traction engine’? That's some kinda alien baloney that I definitely never saw a couple hundred of while literally helping to build a railway in the 1910s!’  Besides, Thomas was a baby, and the railway's ethos was long to protect (and sometimes to overprotect) him. Whereas, this exact period of “early N.W.R.” was Edward's coming-of-age, where to his adolescent surprise he soon found himself one of the oldest engines on his new main line, and trusted accordingly with all the sensitive stuff.) 

So, altogether, if you have a question about your family history, or about some niche local happening over the past hundred years, and it went down anywhere near the N.W.R. (especially but not limited to the Brendam line), well, there's a significant chance Edward can tell you something about it that no living human remembers. Or, at least, he can point you in the direction of the coach who would have overheard the really juicy bits, because the old drama went down in her. 

Edward's long ago honed a pretty good sense of judgment in when to hold his tongue and when to dish, and he's made quite a lot of human friends this way. He's also cited in several history theses and umpteen Sudrian genealogical write-ups. 

That doesn't mean that he hasn't sometimes kicked off a huge kerfuffle. Okay, that's a lie, he has. It's almost the only sort of trouble he doesn't know how to avoid. Most memorably, there was embarrassing epic incident in 2005 when he unwittingly outed an illustrious Suddery mayor and patron from the early ‘30s and his hush-hush long-standing affair with a cross-dresser (who turned out to bear a hilarious resemblance to the mayor's aristocratic wife, actually). Said former mayor's dynasty still lives on, meaning that by the end of Edward's sneaky reporter-friend's research, at least one promising political career was besmirched (mostly by her own ridiculous behavior when she reacted to the news about her honorable ancestor, but still), and the upcoming mayoral race became an everyone's-lost-their-damn-minds-and-also-a-few-thugs-were-hired-on-both-sides circus for the ages, and there were figures (made mostly of cauliflower) burned in effigy in Lower Suddery, and the national wire decided this was all too wonderful an example of Sodor insanity to not pick up.

It also definitely meant that for a couple of years the entire North Western fleet was harassed with copycat writers hoping that lightning would strike twice.

FC3 staged an intervention where Edward could be brought up to speed on the human concepts of “the world wide web” and “homophobia” and, not least of all, “scum-sucking, bottom-feeding, curse-of-the-earth tabloid quote-unquote journalists.” 

But FC3 wasn't even the one who had the most headaches related to Edward's memory. That honor belongs to FC2 ... who, before taking on the job, thought that he was all-too-aware of what an unscrupulous, mendacious bastard his father was, but who found over the years that he didn't know the tenth of it.   

As steam began its exit on the mainland, and as enthusiasts got more and more interested in N.W.R. history, FC2 had to grapple with how much of the latter was clouded in obscurity ... or, apparently, falsified.   

One example of what we mean: When needing to send him to the Works post-‘Stationmaster’s House for Breakfast adventure,’ FC2 discovers that they don't seem to be able to produce a deed for Thomas. 

He conducts an audit of all the relevant files. A whole year later, and the files are in rather less confusion, but the only information about where the hell Thomas came from is scanty and conflicting. There is something that purports to be a deed? But it raises more questions than it answers.   

Thomas himself remembers nothing besides Sodor, and earnestly relates a story that FC2 finds most improbable, that FC1 steamed him to life on the Tidmouth construction site. 

From Thomas, Edward learns that FC2 is trying to get to the bottom of the matter, and so asks to speak to his controller privately. He confirms Thomas's story, but has far more context, about how FC1 finessed the hell out of the L.B. & S.C.R. and the Admiralty alike. He mentions at once that if FC2 finds a deed it's a forgery—they forged three different ones over the years, in fact. Edward can even distinctly remember the Inspectorate poking around looking for the “missing” engine in 1919, but Thomas was hidden away for the whole summer on the Norramby branch line, with all employees and engines instructed to lie to the inspectors and say that the L.B. & S.C. tank was transferred elsewhere years ago, or at least that, no, they don't have an engine by name of E2107 (after all, they didn’t! He was already Thomas by then!) ...   

FC2: ... 

FC2: ... 

FC2: ... Do you mean to tell me that my railway has a decades-old PR campaign featuring what is now the most famous tank engine in the world ... 

FC2: … and we stole him?!?!?! 

Edward: *cheerfully* Well, yes, sir. 

FC2: ... 

Edward: *still sunny* But I doubt at this point that anyone could prove it!

Just the tip of the iceberg. Frankly, the N.W.R. was too poor, until their post-war expansion, to have had any right to survive, and the only reason they did was because FC1 lied and cheated in this way all the time in order to keep his trains running.   

FC2 soon develops dread any time people like the Thin Clergyman or other enthusiasts bring to his attention some “interesting little mystery” they've stumbled upon concerning the early history of his railway, because every. fucking. time. he discovers that he can find out the answer from Edward, and pretty much invariably it comes down to “yet another Really Useful Deception.” And he has to be, like, well, blast it all ... don't tell this to anyone else. And every time Edward's just like, no, of course not, sir.   

That Edward is so earnest about the thing, and has apparently suffered not one whit of angst in carrying any of these secrets and is perfectly prepared to continue to speak, lie, or keep mum about them in the future—whatever FC2 wishes!—is just an extra layer of existential exhaustion for FC2 ... a truly above-board dude who wants to leave behind a legacy of integrity. 

Preferably without blackening his father's name in infamy, and incidentally probably crippling his own controllership, in the process. 

Occasionally he wants to just blow it all up, tell the world the truth about what a cold lying rat bastard his father was, and have done with it. But sometimes these old scandals show him a lovely side of his father that he himself, to be frank, seldom personally experienced. 

Like when FC2 asks why Edward was idle for the year of 1922-23, during a period of “locomotive crisis,” and for the first time Edward gets a little sad, but explains with his usual pride in FC1 that there was no locomotive crisis. Not by 1922! The board of directors, wanting to pursue a “big engine policy,” had already bought or leased quite a lot of engines—more than could be afforded, really, and putting the N.W.R. solidly in the red for ages. But FC1 lied (per usual) to the board about the difficulty in keeping up with the traffic during that period… as cover to prevent them re-selling his “green elephant,” Henry, who had proven so flawed that he would have certainly only been purchased by a scrap merchant.   

FC2 goes home and spends a lot of time that night staring into the fire with his brandy, trying to figure out how FC1 can be both the biggest bastard and the greatest man to ever set foot on Sodor. 

BONUS: 

By 1965, shortly after the “Exploit,” FC2 finds himself contacted by various preservation groups and heritage railways trying to get dibs on hosting Old Iron himself for a 70th birthday visit. 

FC2: *has records checked, sighs, goes to Edward* 

FC2: See, it's strange, how this historian has published information sourced from old Inspectorate documents about you being built in 1901 and purchased from the G.E.R., when we have a deed of sale saying that you were built in 1896 and purchased from the F.R. 

Edward: *who, incidentally, does not want any birthday celebrations and who definitely doesn't want to be sent away on any stupid tours* Mysterious. 

FC2: Don't be cheeky. Which record is correct?

Edward: Neither.  

FC2: *inaudible swear* Am I going to want a brandy for this one? 

Edward: Sir, I'm a steam engine. I really don't understand what drives humans to drink. 

Edward: But yes. 

[ladyblogger-margie]

Boys BBQ

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x M!Reader

Summary: Will takes you to a BBQ to introduce you to his friends. 

Word Count: 2272

Warnings: 18+ Only (anal sex, handjobs, unprotected sex)

a/n: I saw someone observe that there aren't many M!Reader stories, so I thought I’d do my best to contribute to the void! It’s my first time writing M!Reader, so, I just tried my best. Everyone deserves to be taken care of by our beloved Mr Miller. Plus all my comfort characters are bisexual. 

You hovered over Will as he pumped your hard, well lubed cock in his hand a couple times before lining you up at his entrance. 

“You ready for me, baby?” you asked him as he looked up at you, his pupils blown wide. 

“Hell yes, I want you to fuck me,” he ordered you. 

You pushed inside him slowly. You’d already worked him over well with your fingers, but you wanted to be gentle with him. Will had suffered so much for so long, you never wanted him to suffer with you. 

He on the other hand, didn’t seem as concerned. He wrapped his legs around you tightly and gripped your bicep, urging you on. You pumped into him, your hands firm on the bed framing his face between your arms. He turned his head and kissed the tender flesh of your inner forearm. You slammed into him hard and he squeezed his eyes closed, relishing the impact. His tender kiss turned into a bite and it sent a shiver through your body. 

You brought one hand to his cock and stroked it in time with your thrusts. Both of you were breathing hard and you were starting to lose control of your pace as you climbed closer and closer to your release, your movements were erratic as he propped himself up to his forearms to kiss you on the lips. 

“I love you,” he said, and the shock of it had you coming hot and thick inside him. Your grip on his long, thick shaft grew tighter as you shuddered through your release. He had never said that to you before, and you hadn’t said it either.

You were silent, catching your breath as you pulled him off until he came hot and sticky across his own stomach and chest. You pulled out of him gently, slowly and leaned over his perfect, but scarred, body and licked his cum clean off his defined abs. Your legs were shaky as you helped him clean up, still not saying anything. 

When he was taken care of and cleaned up, you flopped over on the bed next to him. He said he loved you when you were balls deep inside of him, he probably didn’t mean it, right?

“I know what you’re doing,” Will said from beside you. He too was on his back staring straight up at the ceiling of your bedroom. 

“Oh, do you?” you quipped sarcastically. 

“Yes, I do. You’re overthinking this. You think I didn’t mean it when I said I loved you,” Will said, rolling over to look at you with his head propped up on his palm. 

“Maybe,” was all you admitted despite the thoughts racing around your head. You furrowed your brow, he was really good at reading you and had demonstrated that fact since you started dating almost 3 months ago. But there was still so much about him and his life you didn’t know, and while you thought you loved him back, could you ever really love someone you didn’t really know?

“You don’t have to say it back,” Will said, “But I just wanted you to know where I stand.”

Then he pulled you into his side with your head on his chest. You curled into him, unable to resist the comfort of his embrace. You ran your fingers gently over the exposed skin of his body, mindlessly running over the scars on his body, especially the particularly gruesome one on the left side of his abdomen. He said he got it last year, but would never elaborate when you asked. 

“I can’t sleep with you thinking that loud,” Will said with his eyes still closed. 

“I’m just thinking about how I don’t actually know you that well,” you explained. 

“I think you know me pretty well,” Will shrugged. 

“I’ve never met your friends even though you’ve met mine, and I don’t even know if they know I exist,” you blurted out. 

Will tilted your head up and kept a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him, “You know me better than most, but you’re right, I think it’s time you meet my friends.”

The next Saturday you sat shotgun in Will’s truck on the way to his friend Frankie’s house for a barbeque. You were excited to meet his friends until a terrifying thought flashed in your mind. 

“They know I’m a man, right?” you asked. 

Will smiled that endearing half smile that had your knees weak when he answered, “Yes, they know you’re a man.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, but your relief didn’t last when you had a brand new horrifying thought, “They know we’re dating, right?”

Will squeezed your knee, “Yes, I came out to them years ago, they know I’m bisexual and currently dating a man.”

You sighed deep, “Oh thank god, I wasn’t prepared for some big ordeal.”

He chuckled, “Oh it’s going to be an ordeal alright, I haven’t introduced them to anyone since my fiance, so they are going to be insufferable.”

“No pressure,” you tried to look calm but he saw through you completely. 

“I’m teasing. They’re my family, they just want to make sure I’m okay,” he explained, “But I promise they’re good people.”

You tapped your foot rapidly, an unconscious nervous tick, as you nodded, “Like I said, no pressure.”

Will took his hand from your knee and grabbed your hand instead. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of your hand.

“They’ll love you,” he promised as he parked in front of a simple house with a well-loved garden out front. 

You weren’t sure if you should hold his hand or not in front of his friends so you elected to carry the case of beer between you two, removing the possibility from the equation, all the while knowing you were overthinking everything as usual. 

Will knocked on the door and a beautiful woman with a toddler in her arms opened the door.

“Will! It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long,” she said, kissing his cheek before she turned to you.

“You must be the one Will’s been spending all his time with,” she said, stretching her hand out to you, “I’m Frankie’s wife, Anna.”

You shook her hand and introduced yourself. 

“Thank you for inviting me today,” you said, “We brought beer, is there somewhere you’d like me to put it?”

“Will knows where the beer fridge is, give it to him and I’ll bring you out back to meet the others,” she turned on her heel and something about her had you Will following her exact instructions without question. 

Will gave you a scratchy kiss in the cheek and a squeeze on the arm before he took the beer from your hand. You darted off behind Anna, barely keeping up as she balanced the toddler and a tray of vegetables through the house.

“Can I take the tray?” you offered and she thrust it into your hand.

“Thanks, honey,” she said, pulling open the door to the backyard and leading you through to where you could hear music playing and smell the barbecue cooking. 

The man behind the barbecue stepped away to meet you at the back door, “Frankie,” he said as he shook your hand and you introduced yourself. 

Frankie pulled you in the backyard and directed you to an open lawn chair, taking the tray from your hands. Sitting around an unlit fire pit were two very attractive men who you assumed must be Pope and Will’s brother Benny. 

Frankie introduced you to them and they both nodded as you took a seat. 

“It’s good to meet you, man,” Benny said and he passed you a beer from the cooler beside him.

“You too, Will talks about you a lot, but you’re not how I pictured you,” you said. 

“Better looking in person, huh?” Benny asked, confident. 

“Well Will’s told me how many fights you’ve lost recently, I thought you’d be uglier for sure, and definitely sporting some fucked up cauliflower ears,” you explained.

Pope and Frankie laughed and Benny let it roll off of him, “Didn't you hear him,” he said,” He says I’m hotter than he expected.”

That only made Pope and Frankie laugh harder and roll their eyes. 

Just then Will came out to the backyard and pulled up a chair next to you.

“I hope Benny isn’t giving you a hard time,” Will said.

“Actually, he’s putting Benny in his place,” Pope explained and winked at you.

You liked Will’s family very much. It wasn’t long until Frankie was laying out a huge stack of burgers on the table and you all dove in. Though of course you waited for Frankie to get his daughter Carmen sorted out first. But once she was settled out of harm's way, all bets were off at the buffet.

You spent most of the evening just listening to them all share stories and crack jokes. You poked fun at Will by telling them that he loves the live-action Beauty and the Beast movie, but you held back the part of how you saw him shed a tear near the end. That part was just for you. 

Frankie and Anna built a fire in the pit and as he set it alight, Frankie stepped back and said, “No cold-camping tonight, boys,” though he looked like he regretted his words. 

An icy chill fell over the group despite the heat from the new fire. You watched as the firelight danced across Will’s sad face. You reached out slowly and clasped Will’s hand in your own. 

Pope smiled when he saw you hold Will’s hand, and his smile set a chain reaction through the other guys who followed suit. Will turned to you when he smiled, his sad eyes full of love and gratitude. 

Benny was the only one who didn’t smile. Instead he rocked back in his chair, his arms tight across his chest. 

“You good, Benny?” Will asked, his voice soft but steady. 

Benny cleared his throat, “I’m going to refill the cooler.”

Benny stood and carried the cooler with him back into the house. 

Luckily Carmen breaks the silence by showing a picture she had been colouring to Pope. 

“Look!” she showed off her hard work by shoving it into Pope’s lap. 

Pope picked it up with a smile, “It’s beautiful!” he turned it around to show everyone else, “Isn’t this great?”

You and the others all clapped and Carmen beamed. When Pope tried to tuck the picture away in his coat, Carmen pulled it back with a, “Hey! You can’t keep that, I was just showing you!”

Everyone laughed and Benny returned and passed out the next round to everyone. 

You watched Will watch Benny and knew there was something going on you didn’t understand, and weren’t sure if you were supposed to say anything or not. 

“Where’s your bathroom?” you asked Maria and she gave you simple instructions so you excused yourself inside to collect your thoughts and empty your bladder. 

When you exited the bathroom, Will was leaning against the wall waiting for you. He pulled you into his embrace, one hand on your face, the other sneaking around to palm your ass. 

“I know you must have questions,” Will said. 

“We don’t have to talk about that now,” you said, “Today was about meeting your friends, and I gotta say, I really like them.”

You kissed Will quickly, but before you could pull away he deepened the kiss, pulling you close to him softly but purposefully. 

You heard the laughter from outside and broke the kiss with a sigh. 

“We should go back, I don’t want them to think I’m a bad influence,” you said, holding Will’s hand. 

“They already told me they like you,” Will said with his classic half smile. 

“Well good, because I -” you paused and took Will’s face in your hands, “I love you.”

Will smiled large, the lines around his eyes crinkled, “I love you too.”

Then you kissed him, softly at first, but building as he splayed his palm flat on your back and you pushed his back up against the wall, your hands on his waist. You felt his cock grow hard against your leg and you knew he could feel yours too. 

You jumped back when you heard the backdoor open, your face warm. Will kissed you soft on the cheek, his beard scratching against your own stubble, before he led you to the sound where you found Benny carrying Carmen by the ankles upside down. 

“This munchkin wants s’mores, so we’re on a supply run,” Benny explained as Carmen giggled hysterically. 

“You handle her, we’ll grab supplies,” you offered as you and Will followed Benny and the still laughing Carmen into the kitchen. 

As you gathered supplies Benny looked over to you, “I’ve got a fight next weekend out of town, you’re coming, right?”

Will stepped in before you could answer, “I hadn’t asked him yet.”

“Well I was inviting him, I like him better than you,” Benny said to Will. 

“I’ll be there!” you said, unable to contain your smile. 

Benny nodded and swung Carmen around as he made his way back outside. 

You turned to Will, “I guess that means I’m in?”

“For as long as you want to be here, want me, you’re welcome,” Will said sincerely. 

“Good, I love you, and I love your friends. I think I’ll stay,” you said, and you and Will carried the s'mores supplies outside and your heart felt more full tonight than it had ever felt before. 

[elvis-facts-daily]

Okay, you all asked for it. As an Elvis fan, here's my top ten tips for enjoying elvis

1. When listening to Elvis, turn the volume up. HIS VOICE WAS LOUD IN REAL LIFE.

2. Recording companies repeatedly tried to pair him with female singers. These were rarely successful and are not considered real Elvis recordings. When listening to these tracks, chant "Elvis-only" repeatedly in your head.

3. Children cannot hear Elvis' name or they'll get cauliflower ear.

4. If you're in a music store and you find an album called "Elvis Sings For Children," do not be fooled. Despite the title, this is not a collection of songs for children. This album actually contains subliminal messages designed to turn the listener into a slave for The Man. The first track is nearly impossible to understand, but is actually an appeal to join some kind of cult. Once you hear it, The Man will never let you leave. Call 1-800-555-ELVIS to report a sighting of this album.

5. Elvis had a twin brother who died at birth. His name was Garon (pronounced "Gah-run"). To honor him, say "Garon" after every sentence when talking about Elvis. Ex.: "Elvis ate too much fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Garon."

6. Don't discuss or ask about the "cursed" or "mysterious" deaths that surround him. You will look foolish because there was nothing mysterious about them and they aren't even that many. He outlived every one of his peers. Get over it.

7. Don't let anyone talk you out of your adoration for the "King", no matter what. To quote Zappa's commentary to his song "I love Elvis": "Regarded by these cynical so-called music experts as an example of the recording industry's ability to brainwash the American youth, Presley appeals to the hopeless and wretched denizens of misery... The worst thing that can happen if you're a devoted Elvis fan is that you might wind up working in a gas station, living alone and dying forgotten in a trailer house. That's it! Merely the worst thing that CAN happen!"

8. When you argue that Elvis is the greatest popular music artist of the twentieth century, your comments will usually produce one of three equally absurd counterclaims: (a) The Beatles; (b) Jay-Z; or (c) Johnny Cash

To respond to (a), swear and make a dismissive gesture because The Beatles had weak singing and played instruments horribly. To respond to (b), snort indignantly because, while Mr. Carter can jump around a lot and has lots of fun, he's not the King of Rock and Roll and obviously didn't even try to carry a tune. To respond to (c), make fun of anyone who tries to insinuate that performing for convicts means more than entertaining real, live enthusiastic crowds of music fans.

8. Look up The Simpsons Funniest Clips on youtube.com

9. In general, foaming at the mouth is a positive thing. Frothing at the mouth and being able to gently blow bubbles is very good. Being able to gently blow bubbles through a straw is sublime.

10. Pray to God that you don't end up like him.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry. 

(Fluffy part....and I will give a bit of a trigger warning here, y/n mentions abuse from an ex. This is sort of a short part, I part five is long and I promise it delivers on the smut. )

Part One Part Two Part Three

You left work a little early Wednesday. You had been marinating your cauliflower since the morning. But you wanted to make everything perfect for Harry. You put a table cloth over your small table, and added a single candle. You plated up your buffalo cauliflower. You spooned some blue cheese into a small bowl. You knew he wouldn’t eat it, but you needed it for yourself. You also put out some celery and carrots. You put a bottle of voka and some tonic out. Drinking on a work night wasn’t something you did often, but you knew vodka wouldn’t leave you with a hangover. He texts you letting you know he’s downstairs. You buzz him in and open your door.

“Love?” You hear him say.

“In the kitchen!” You yelp. He walks in. He’s wearing those black ripped jeans again. You can slightly see his thigh tattoo. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is slightly tattered too. You notice he took his boots off at the door.

He comes right up to you, and takes you in for a hug, he simply hold you for a few moments, and sighs happily.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah, just a long day. Sorry for my appearance, I didn’t want to be late, and stupid me forgot to pack extra clothes.”

“You look fine. Sit, dinner’s ready.” You smile. He sits down at the table, and you hand him a serving utensil so he can take as much as he wants.

“This smells great, (y/n).”

“Thanks, it’s my own sauce recipe. It’s vegan, but the blue cheese isn’t.” You laugh.

“No worries, I don’t need it anyways.” He pops a smaller piece of cauliflower into his mouth, and nearly chokes. “Holy shit, this is spicy. Well done.” He takes a sip of the glass of water you left for him. You both decide you don’t need the alcohol tonight. You’re secretly thankful.

“I had some extra strawberries, no chocolate though.” You say after finishing dinner, bringing a bowl of strawberries to the table.

“Oh, thanks. Another thing I forgot about, bringing dessert.”

“Harry, it’s okay.” You look over at your couch. “Come on, let’s go sit down and get comfy, and you can tell me about your day.”

He grabs the bowl of strawberries and places it on your coffee table. Before you sit he grabs your wrist.

“Would it be alright if we, like, cuddled?” He looks at you with tired eyes.

“Of course.” Your heart flutters.

He lays on the couch, resting up against the pillow on the end near the armrest. You place your body on his, and he runs his hand across your back. He lets out another happy sigh.

“So how was your day?”

“Stressful.”

“I gathered. What happened?”

“Just these people I was working with, they didn’t understand my vision, and we kept fighting. It took nearly three hours to get two decent shots. Finally, they understood where I was going with it and let me do my thing. It was exhausting.”

“I’m sorry.” You nuzzled into his chest. You felt like you could fall asleep. Before you knew it, you heard light snores. You looked up and saw Harry’s eyes closed, and lips parted. You smiled at the beautiful site. You soon drifted off as well.

“Oh shit.” You awake to him rustling underneath you.

“Mm, what time is it?” You press into his chest.

“Only around eight-thirty. We slept for like two hours.”

“Must’ve needed it.”

“Love, I hate to move you, but I desperately need a wee.”

“Oh!” You immediately get off him. He goes down the hall to the half bath. You go use your bathroom as well.

He gets back to the couch first. Confused that you’re not there, but realized you probably needed a wee as well. He smiles at you as you come sauntering back in. You sit down next to him, and you both put your feet on the coffee table, his hanging over the other side. He really is tall. You grab the remote and turn the TV on. He puts an arm around you, and snuggle into him.

“Right, what are we watching?”

“How do you feel about Chopped?”

“Love it.” You smile, beaming up at him. You stretched your neck out and winced. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just think there’s a little kink in my neck from how we fell asleep is all.”

“Damn, that’s my fault. Want me t’rub it?”

“That would be great.”

You two adjust yourselves so he has his back against the arm rest, and you sitting between his long legs. His soft touch feels amazing on your neck and shoulders. You lean back further into him, and let out a small moan as he massages out a particular knot in the back of neck.

“Ugh, that feels so good Harry.” He adjusts himself a little, and continue to rubs your neck. His legs tighten around yours a little. You realize now what you’re doing to him, and you feel bad, honestly. You think of what you and Niall talked about the other night, but you still feel like you’re not ready. Harry lightly taps your shoulders and presses a kiss to the back of your head.

You move your arm to hook around him so you can give his hair a gentle squeeze. He presses his hips to your back side and feel him twitch against you. His hands slide down your arms and wrap around your waist. He kisses you on the cheek, down your jaw, and then down to your neck. He doesn’t waste any time to get your skin between his teeth. You lean back as far as you can into him. His hands move up your stomach a little, and stop just below your breasts. You want to give him the go ahead to touch you, but you don’t speak up.

You’re too busy practically panting from the way he’s sinking into your skin. He’s trying to show what he can do with his mouth, he has to be. You find yourself suddenly on your feet.

“Sorry, did I…did I do something wrong?” He puts his hands up. “Did I leave too big of a mark last time?”

“No, no. It’s not you, Harry. I just think, you know, it’s a work night, and I have to be up early. So I think we should stop that for tonight.”

“I barely even got to kiss you.” He says looking at you with big eyes, and his bottom lip jutting out in the cutest pout you’ve ever seen. It breaks your heart. “Can I see ya Friday night?” You sigh in relief that he’s not mad.

“Yes, of course.” He stands up and takes you in his arms. You look up at him and kiss him. He kisses you back, but only for a minute. He presses his forehead to yours.

“I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but you’re doing something to me. I can’t quite explain it, but I like the way I feel when I’m with you.” You could keel over. A man had never been so honest with you.

“I like the way I feel when I’m with you too, Harry.”

With that he gives you one more squeeze and he’s out the door. You groan to yourself. You know you’re doing what’s best, but you just want to let him ravage you.

Harry speeds quickly to Niall’s, and lets himself in. Niall is sat on his couch in his boxers with a pint of ice cream.

“Uh, hey man?”

“Sorry for just barging in so late.”

“Did you see (y/n)?”

“Yeah.” He paces across the room and runs his hands through his hair. “We had a really nice and relaxing night, and then I did what I always do, I took it too far. But I couldn’t help it!”

“What happened?”

“I was giving her a neck rub, and it was strictly to help her out, nothing sexual. Then she moaned out ‘oh Harry that feels so good’, and I, well you know how it is when a girl says something like that.”

“So, what happened?”

“Well, she let me kiss on her, and I thought she was into it, and then all of a sudden she was telling me it was getting late. I feel terrible. I wish she felt like she could talk me through whatever happened to make her feel so uncomfortable.”

“Harry,” Niall starts, putting his ice cream down. “Listen, I can’t tell ya everything, but she has a valid reason for wanting to take it slow. If it makes you feel better, she’s really battlin’ with herself over it. She wants to give you more, but she’s scared.”

“Of me?”

“No, she’s actually amazed by you. She said it was refreshing that you’re being so cool about everything.”

“Then what is she scared of?”

“Giving it to another guy who will just leave her the next day.”

“Is that what happened with her ex?”

“Sort of, there’s a lot more to it. But that’s a story she should really tell you, not me.”

“Alright. I’m seeing her Friday, maybe she’ll feel comfortable opening up to me then. This’ll be our third week seeing each other. She makes me feel so happy, I can’t explain it.”

“Have you told her that?”

“Tonight actually.”

“Good, she’s definitely someone that needs that reassurance.”

“Good to know.”

“No offense, but did you go over there lookin’ like that?”

“It was either this or be late.” Harry raises his middle finger to his friend.

The next day you wake up like you have a hangover. You can barely get yourself out of bed. You were up all night thinking about Harry, and not in a fun way. You felt like you were lying to him or something. Today all you can put together for an outfit are some black dress pants, black flats, a white shirt, and a blush pink blazer. Today was Niall’s day to bring coffee, thank god. By the time you left the house you surely would’ve been late if you had to stop. Your coffee was waiting for you on your desk when you got there. You took it and walked down to his office. You tap on the outside of his door frame.

“Hey.” You say.

“Mornin’, come in.” He waves you in with a smile. You close his door most of the way. “Oh boy. What’s wrong?”

“Do you think I should tell him what happened? I feel like I keep sending mixed signals. I mean, when I think about it, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“(y/n), it was a big deal. You almost wasted away to nothing, and you had to see a therapist.”

“Okay, okay, so how do I explain that to him?”

“Just be honest, he’s a really understanding guy. I’m sure some clarity on his end would be good.”

“Has he mentioned anything to you?” You ask, looking down at your shoes. “Sorry, I don’t want you to be in the middle of this.”

“A little…he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“He does everything right. But I thought my ex was too, and I know he’s not him, it’s just hard.”

“Maybe you should go in for a session.” You roll your eyes with disgust. “Just an idea.”

“I know you’re right, and I shouldn’t treat you like my therapist.”

“That’s not what I was sayin’. I’m just sayin’ that clearly this is still something that bothers ya.”

“I think it’ll get better once I talk to Harry. What’s on the agenda today?”

“Here, got this flash drive for ya, and a memo saying how they want these clips edited together. Work ya magic.” You take the flash drive from him and smile.

You head back down the hall to your office, and you stop short when you see someone standing in your office. He turns around, it’s Harry. He smiles warmly at you, and you smile back, a little confused.

“Mornin’.” He says to you.

“Morning.” You say, kissing him on the cheek. You put the flash drive on your desk. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area, and I just wanted to check in and see how you were. I was worried about you last night.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. I’m fine. I was actually wondering if we could meet after work tonight. There’s something I want to tell you, and I don’t want it to ruin our date tomorrow.”

“Sure, but dontcha usually go to the gym after work?”

“I’m too tired for that today. I barely slept last night.” His face falls at your admission.

“Wanna meet at the coffee shop down the street from here?”

“That would be perfect.”

You get your work done, somehow. You tell Harry to just meet you by your car in the parking lot. Your knuckles are white while gripping the steering wheel. He gets in a few minutes later.

“Hi, sorry, I just wanted to talk more privately.” You say looking for at him.

“Of course, love.” You take a deep breath.

“Okay, and it may be way too soon to be talking about this since we’ve only known each other a few weeks, but I feel like you need some explanation for my behavior.” He just looks at you and gives you an encouraging smile. “So, over a year ago, I started seeing someone. We had gone on about four dates, I think. I really liked him, and I thought he liked me. I brought him back to my place on our fourth date. My hope was just to maybe make out.” You swallow. “Maybe a little more, but not go all the way.” Harry nods, his eyebrows furrowed, all his concentration on you. “But he had…other plans.” You feel your eyes start to tear up, but you swallow it back. “It started off fine, and it was like all of a sudden I was naked, and so was he. Everything happened so fast, he took out the condom faster than I could say anything. He was rough with me, and in the moment I didn’t feel safe enough to speak up to tell him to stop.” You take another deep breath. “After it was over, he kissed me goodbye and told me he’d call the next day. He didn’t call for like three days, and he broke every date we had planned.” You look away from Harry. “I basically shut down. I had never felt so used in my life. I missed a week of work. I told them I had the flu. I didn’t eat or bathe. I basically stayed in bed for an entire week. I had never felt that low in my life. It wasn’t until Niall basically broke into my apartment that I got my act together. I didn’t feel great, but I went back to work. I eventually went to therapy, it helped a lot. I learned to stop blaming myself for what happened. That guy was an asshole, and doesn’t deserve to ruin my life. But I guess ever since him I’ve been so guarded about having sex so quickly with someone, I guess out of fear of like just being used and hurt. I know there are people out there that have had worse than me, but for whatever reason this really affected me.”

You look over at Harry, and he is full on sobbing, tears staining his cheeks. He wipes his eyes with his shirt. You wipe your eyes as well. You hadn’t realized you had even started crying. He takes your hand in his, and kisses it.

“I am so sorry that happened to you. You’re so brave. And don’t compare yourself to others, what happened sounds horrible. I don’t understand how people can do things like that. I don’t understand how men can get pleasure by forcing themselves onto someone. I’m sorry if I pushed you into telling me.”

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t push me. I wanted to tell you. I feel much better now that it’s out in the open. You’ve made me feel so comfortable every time we’re together. I didn’t want you to feel like I was rejecting you.”

“I didn’t, don’t worry. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing something wrong.”

“I appreciate that, so much.” You smile at him. He puts a hand on your cheek, and you lean into it. “Thank you for listening.”

“Thank you for sharing your story with me.” Harry’s phone starts to ring, but he ignores it.

“You can get that, Harry.” He reaches into his pocket.

“Shit, it’s work, one sec.” He answers it. “Yeah? Oi, I left it on my desk for ya. Ya I did. Didja check again? Okay, go inta my office, yup, it’s on the left hand side. Got it? Okay good. See ya tomorrow.” He hangs up. You can’t help but notice how thick his accent got on the phone. “Sorry bout that. I swear I work with some real wankahs.” You giggle at the word. “What?”

“Nothing, I just thought that was a word only used in movies.”

“Nope, we really say it. We also say bullocks in case you were wonderin’.”

“I’ll remember that.” You laugh.

“Well, I’m sure you’re drained. You should get home and relax. What would you like to do tomorrow?”

“I’d love to come to your place again. I really liked it there.”

“Alright, whatdya say I pick ya up, and we get some food, and then go to my place.”

“I’d like that.”

“Do me a favor, let me know what you get home.”

“Alright.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek. You linger for a moment, and then he exits out of the car.

[wearebraveyourhighness]

Get to know me Q's: Since you're making me do the evens, you can do the odds.

Fair enough :P

get to know me, pick some numbers.

1. selfie

Nope...... :P

3. do you miss anyone?

Yes, my dad. He passed away from cancer a year ago in June.

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?

My daughter, Violet.

7. what was your life like last year?

Well.....I started the new year (2020, I think your asking anyway) in (January) about a month pregnant. Ended in the hospital at the end of January because the doctors thought I had an ectopic pregnancy later found out I just had an enlarged cyst and also had serve hyperemesis gradvidarum. Which, I had throughout my pregnancy mind you, so much fun, not! Found out my dads cancer resurfaced in February and spread. Found out I was having a girl in May. My dads passing away in June. Then, had my daughter in late September. That's pretty much how my last year went. Sadness and joy all wrapped up into one. Hence, why I haven't been on here very much but am slowly getting back into the groove of things.

9. who did you last see in person?

If you count this morning it would be my husband.

11. are you listening to music right now?

I'm actually watching/listening to a Prime show called Atlantic: A Year in the Wild.

13. how do you feel right now?

I am tired but that's normal for being a new mom. Anxious because I start my new job ordination tomorrow.

15. personality description

Oh lordy, ummm..... I'm shy and bubbly at times. I'm not really good at describing myself.

17. opinion on insecurities.

We all have them and its okay.

19. have you ever been to New York?

Nope

21. age and birthday?

I'm 29 and my bday is January 12

23. fear(s)

Death, losing everything, not making enough money, etc....

25. role model

Does a fictional character count? If so it'd be Padme' Amidala because she stood up for what she believed in and helped those who needed her most.

27. things i hate

I don't like broccoli, cauliflower, horror/gore movies, heavy metal (its the noise output), busy highways, change, and cleaning (sometimes depends on my mood).

29. favorite film(s)

Star Wars, Paris I Love You, nature/ancient history documentaries, Secondhand Lions, etc...

31. 3 random facts

I am learning to speak German (slowly it seems), I'm afraid of heights but not if I'm in a tree which is weird, and I'm a jewelry designer.

33. something you want to learn

I want to learn how to draw better and speak various lanaguages.

35. favorite subject

History, Creative Writing, English

37. favourite actor/actress

Natalie Portman

39. favourite sport(s)

Soccer

41. relationship status

Married, 1 yr will be 2yr in October

43. favorite song ever

I have way to many favorite songs. But, Across the Stars is my favorite.

45. how you found out about your idol

Watching Star Wars that's mostly it.

47. turn ons

Nice, loving, creative, someone who can make me smile, funny, etc...

49. where i want to be right now

On vacation but I think everybody does.

51. starsign

Capricorn

53. 5 things that make me happy

My daughter, family, writing, reading, and going for walks.

55. tumblr friends

Well there's Tabitha, Loren, Breanna, Greg, Sean, and Sandy.

57. favourite animal(s)

white wolves, kolas, and sheep.

59. why i joined tumblr

I joined Tumblr to improve on my writing abilities and meet new peoples. :)

[nikanndros]

Hey. I wanted to say Thank You and that I’m glad you back to writing again. I really do adore your stories and appreciate all your work, love the little added bits of humour, love etc you put into fics. I was extremely excited about seeing a new lamen fic up on the archive from you. I devoured it then reread it to pick up all the bits I missed the first read through. Enjoy on a pedestal to even tho aug/nik aren’t normally my thing. Hope this means your back for a bit and I’ll get to read more ❤️

Thank you! I hope I’m back too. Here’s some Lamen from the assassin au as thanks. 

-

“We know who you are, Damianos,” says the voice on the phone.

“Is that so?” Damen responds. Sure, the opening line is a little unnerving, but Damen’s got bigger concerns. Like whether the cauliflower at this store is organic, and GMO-free (whatever that means, Alyssa at the vegan health store has assured him it’s important).

“We know what you were hired for. And for a little--”

“What’s with the ‘we’ thing?” Damen interrupts. “I mean, you’re clearly just one person talking. Do you speak for an organisation or is it like, a royal We kind of thing?”

There’s a pause. “Our company was hired by a Mr Marley. We know that you’ve been employed to carry out a hit on him, and we are here to motivate you to act otherwise.”

“Huh,” Damen says. He puts the cauliflower in the trolley and moves down the aisle to the tomatoes. “Honestly, that’s a relief to hear. If you were royalty, it’d get awkward, because my partner and I tried this roleplay thing the other week, and--”

“We have your husband!” The man on the phone shouts suddenly, and with a tinge of desperation.

Damen frowns. “Sorry, was I oversharing? My husband says I need to be more open about our sex life, but maybe that was too much.” And probably also a plot on Laurent’s behalf to traumatise Auguste.

“We have your husband,” the man repeats sternly. “You are to reject the hit and send us information on who hired you, or we will kill him.”

Damen picks up a sweet potato, and regards it. “Okay.”

“Okay,” the man says. “We have a deal?”

“I meant more that I understood what you were saying than that I agreed to your terms.” Damen looks down at his trolley. “Actually, could you put him on the phone real quick?”

He can hear the man saying in the background that Damen is requesting proof of life. Then Laurent’s voice drifts over the phone.

“Sweetheart,” Laurent drawls. He sounds bored.

“I’m at the store,” Damen says. He can hear his own voice echoing back a little, so he must be on speakerphone. “Curry for dinner. Did you want me to pick you up some chicken or something to have on the side?”

Damen is a vegetarian, but he respects Laurent’s choice not to be. Also, Laurent is kind of tetchy when he’s low on iron. 

“That’s okay,” Laurent says, “My brother wants to take me to that steakhouse on Thursday, remember?”

“Of course,” Damen replies. 

There’s a noise of someone fumbling with a phone and then the man’s voice is back. “That’s enough,” he says. “You agree to our terms. You will meet us tonight at--”

“Actually,” Damen says. “I’ve really got to get dinner started, but I’m sure my beloved can handle things from here.” Laurent hadn’t said any of their ‘help me please’ codewords, so he’s definitely just playing around with whoever these guys are.

“What?” the man says.

“Listen, I’ve got to go now; I hate people talking on phones at the checkout, but,” Damen smiles, “Good luck.” They’ll need it.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 89

Warnings: none

Tagging:  @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007​

“Can you feel this?”  Esme asks, as she lightly drags her fingernails down Tyler’s face. Starting just below the stitches under his eye and then stopping at the corner of his mouth

In the past forty eight hours -and following a lengthy and heated debate pitting her and Julie against the head of anesthesiology-, they’ve significantly lowered the amount of sedation being pushed through the central line.  Upping the pain meds, but slowly easing the heavier drug out of his system. In twenty four they’ll cut the sedation all together; stopping it in the middle of the night while he’s asleep and then allowing both his body and brain to walk naturally.  It will be hit or miss; he’ll either react calmly to full consciousness or wake to overwhelming panic and fear over his surroundings and the state of his body. And while he’s nowhere in the clear when it comes to even a partial  recovery, it’s a remarkable beginning; his strength and overall health and physical condition allowing an earlier than expected start to the long and arduous healing process.

“I can feel it.”

His wakeful moments are coming more often now, yet still relatively short in duration. The pain medication and those to keep nausea at bay make him groggy and often disoriented; the quick return to exhaustion his weakened body’s response to fighting the injuries and the pain caused by them.

“A hundred percent or…?”

“A hundred percent.”

She gives a pleased smile then presses a kiss to his temple. “Good! The plastic surgeon was a bit worried; it’s deep enough that it could have messed up some of the nerves. But if you can feel it…”

“I can feel it,” he assures her. “I wouldn't lie.”

“What about this?” She scrapes her nails across the top of his eyebrow, followed by higher up onto his forehead. “And this?”

“The first one, not so good. Second one is okay.”

“Not so good as in you can’t feel it all or…?”

“It feels weird. I don’t know; kinda fuzzy. It didn’t scratch but it didn’t tickle either. Just feels...fuzzy.”

“Might take a little longer than the other spots. I’m sure it’s nothing. You want something to eat? Are you hungry?”

He glances over at the tray on the bedside table. Disgust registering on his face  at the sight of the cup of extremely weak tea, a styrofoam bowl of soup, and a container of red gelatin.  “Not for that. That’s not food.”

“It’s the only food you’re allowed right now. Nothing solid. I don’t make the rules, honey. I just follow them and enforce them. You should eat a little bit; get your tummy used to food again.”

He grins. “My tummy?”

“Listen, I’m used to talking to little kids about this sort of thing. I can’t turn the mommy side of me off.”

“You’re a good mommy. A really good mommy.”

“I try.  You really should eat. Just a little bit. The soup doesn’t look too bad. You want to try that?”

“It looks and smells like shit. Probably tastes like it too.”

She moves to the bedside table and pops the lid of the soup; using a plastic spoon to stir and poke at the mushy, pale green concoction before placing some in her mouth.   “It’s surprisingly not bad. There’s actual taste to it.   I think it’s a mixture of cream of broccoli and cauliflower.”

“I don’t know if I can take your word for it. About whether it’s good or not. I’ve been living with your cooking for almost seven years.”

“And you’re alive, aren’t you? You’re a big boy; you’re not wasting away. So it can’t be THAT bad. Hang on for a second; don't move. Don’t even make a different face. “ She fishes her phone from the pocket of her hoodie; flipping open the front cover of the case and then quickly snapping a picture of him. “Thank you, husband. Now I have proof.”

“Of what? The huge fucking mess I am? How I need my wife to babysit me?”

“Don’t be like that.  I am not babysitting you, I’m taking care of you. And in case you haven’t noticed, you need a bit of help right now.”

“A bit? I’ve got a tube in my dick so I can take a piss, and I’m eating baby food. Which I can’t even feed to myself. What’s next? You’re going to have to wipe my ass for me?”

“If I have to, I will. In a heartbeat. And you know why? Because I love you, you insufferable bastard. And you would do it for me; if the situation was reversed. You would, right? Take care of me like that?”

“OF course I would. You’re my girl. My  wife.”

“And you’re my husband. It’s what people who love each other do. Take care of one another.”

“But I’m the man. The man is supposed to…”

“Shhh…” she lays a palm over his mouth. “...none of that toxic masculinity shit. Here, have some soup.”  She removes her hand from his face and holds the spoon to his lips; the other hand cupped under his chin to catch any spills.

“That’s not soup. That’s baby food.”

“Which kept your first four children alive and helped them grow, right?”

“But I’m not a kid.”

“No. You’re not. But this is all you get right now and you need to at least eat a little bit. A few spoonfuls. It would make ME feel better; if you ate something. Happy wife, happy life. Eat the fucking soup.”

“I don’t remember you using the F word when you were feeding our babies that kind of shit.”

“I was thinking the F word. A lot. Especially when TJ used to blow raspberries when he had strained peas or green beans in his mouth. Don’t make me shove this food down your throat, Tyler James.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I could always get one of the personal support workers do it.”

He frowns. “No.”  It’s one of the things he hates the most; the thought of a complete stranger helping him with basic needs.

“Eat the goddamn soup. Please.”

He sighs heavily, reluctantly opening his mouth and then quickly shutting it again.

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“What is your issue with the soup?”

“Why can’t I do this for myself again?”  The confusion and the forgetfulness are courtesy of the amount of medication -sedation wise- that had been pumped into his system and still continues -albeit minimally- to be administered. Once he’s fully weaned off, those issues SHOULD disappear within a couple of days.

“Because you’re not supposed to use your right arm at all and your hands shake too much. From withdrawal.”

He accepts the explanation, and the first spoonful of food. “Why can’t I use my arm?”

“You have a torn rotator cuff and a shredded labrum and a lot of scar tissue pressing on some nerves. That’s why you’re getting those pins and needles in your hand,” she explains, and gives him another helping of soup.

“Why didn’t they just fix it?”

“I didn’t want them putting you through too much once.”   Her tone never changes, nor do her eyes or the expression on her face. Always patient. Gentle. Loving.   “It’ll get fixed when you get home. When we get you into the hospital there.”

“When’s that?”

“I don’t know yet. Couple weeks, probably. Maybe sooner if you  keep doing as well as you are.  And if you keep eating your soup. Not too bad, right?”

“Tastes like shit.”

Sorry, I don’t have access to vegemite. This the one and only time I’d actually suck it up make you a vegemite sandwich AND feed it to you. And by the way, the picture I took? It’s my evidence.”

“Of what?”

“That you pout.”

“I don’t pout. That wasn’t a pout. That was  a frown.”

“It was a pout. You want more? Or do you want to try the jello?”

“I’ll try it. It’s not baby food, at least.”

“Probably not real jello, either.  And don’t be grumpy. I don't care how adorable it is when you are.”

“What did I tell you about the A word?”

“You’re adorable and you’ll never convince me otherwise.”  She places the half eaten bowl of  soup to the tray, licking the spoon clean as she returns with the gelatin.

“Don’t do that,” he teases. “I don’t want your cooties.”

“I think we’ve shared way more than cooties in the past seven years. You seem to forget I’ve had your dick in my mouth. On multiple occasions.”

“Oh trust me, I could never forget THAT. What flavour is it? What does it taste like?”

“Depends what you eat during the day.  Sometimes it’s salty, sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes there’s no flavour.”

“ Not THAT. The jello.”

“I think it’s supposed to be cherry.”

“Supposed to be?”

“Shut up and try it.”

“You’re bossy. Like your daughter.”

“You like it.”

“Depends on the circumstance.  You’re beautiful, by the way.”

“I look like shit. But thank you,” she pecks his lips.

“Never. You never look like shit.”

“All the ass kissing in the world won’t save you from trying the jello,” she chides.

Neither of them speak for several minutes, and when the cup of gelatin is finished, she playfully -and affectionately- ruffles his hair and places a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re a good patient. My all time favourite. Even when you’re grumpy.”

“I don’t mean to be grumpy. Not with you.”

“I know. You have any pain?”

“A little.”

“Back?”

Tyler nods.

“It’s the pressure on the wound. Lean forward a little bit.”  She places a forearm against his chest for support, then moves one of the pillows further down the bed; wedging it between him and the mattress and then helping him lay back. “Better?”

“A little. You’re good at this. This nurse stuff.”

“You and the kids are the only ones I’d be able to do this with. Strangers? No thanks. Feel a little better?”  She uses two fingertips to gently clear any leftover food from his lips. “Tummy okay?”

“Feels okay,” he confirms, then scowls. “Why can’t I feel my legs?”

“Nerve blocks,” she gently reminds him. “To help with the pain. You had three pretty serious surgeries done all at once. It was the best option. I didn’t want you to be in agony and I didn’t want you to be able to move and maybe hurt yourself.”

“You told them to do it?”

“I had two options. Nerve blocks, and a tube they’d put right into your spine that they could put medication through. I chose the nerve blocks.”

“Like an epidural? The other option?”

“Kind of . And seeing as you almost fainted when they gave it to me while I was in labour with Millie, I decided to spare you.”

“Good call, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I got you. Always. You feeling alright?”

“A little tired.”

“This is the longest you’ve been up. And the chattiest. I’m shocked.”

“Maybe I just like your company.”

“Well I like yours, so…” she softly kisses him.

“Will I be able to feel them again? My legs?”

“They’re going to stop with the blocks while you’re sleeping tonight.  It’ll take a couple days; to get the feeling back.”

“Are you sure? That it’ll come back?”

“I’m sure, baby.  This is only temporary. Just give it a couple days, okay? You trust me, right?”

“With my life.  And I think it says a lot that I just let you feed me baby food. And what’s up with this stupid fucking thing?”  He nods down at the metal ‘cage’ around his thigh.  

“It’s helping the femur heal. It was a bad break. A VERY bad break.  It was the best option to fix it.” She’s explained it all -the surgeries, the loss of feeling in his legs, the apparatus on the right one- at least a dozen times in the past twenty four hours. But she’s always the same; calm and gentle. But she hates how it makes her feel. Not having to answer the same questions over and over again, but at how confused he gets and in turn, how frustrated he becomes.  And how he sometimes looks and sounds so sad and scared. Like a lost, hurting little boy.

“How long do I have to have it on for?”

“A while.”

“How long’s a while?”

“Three or four months.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious? Why so long?”

��Because your leg needs to heal. Properly. This was the best way to do it. I would have picked another way...an easier way…if they’d given me another option.”

“I’m not mad at you. Please don’t think I’m mad at you. I’m not.”

“I know you’re not.”

“I’m a fucking asshole.”

“No. You’re not. You’re scared and you’re confused. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up, Tyler. This is a fucked up situation.”

“I'm not scared. I’m pissed. At this whole mess. At everything that happened. And the fact that sometimes, I don’t even remember what DID happen. And I’m pissed at...at…” he frowns, unable to come up with the name.

“Nathan.”

“Yeah, him. I’m pissed at him. I swear; I am going to fucking hunt him down and kill him when I get out of here.”

“He’s already dead,” Esme gently reminds him, then puts down the railing on the left side of the bed and takes a seat beside him.  “You don’t have to worry about him; he was taken care of.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent sure. Calm down, okay? Don’t get worked up. Especially over him. Why don’t you close your eyes and try and rest? You’ve been up for a long time.”

“I don’t want to rest. I’m tired of resting. It’ll rest when I fucking want to.”

“Don’t you get pissy with me, young man. Or I’ll never give you a sponge bath.”

“I can’t exactly enjoy your version of sponge baths with a tube in my dick. And I’m sorry. For getting pissy. I love you.”

“I know you do. And I love you. Even when you are pissy and grumpy.   You’ll be getting rid of this soon too,” she lays a finger against the port of the central line.  “They’re going to switch you over to a regular IV tonight. So you have to promise me that you won’t rip it out. You have a real uncanny ability of tearing your IVs out.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Don’t make me get them to put no-no’s on your arms. Remember when TJ split his head open?”

“The time he fell off the back deck in Telluride?  Or right after we moved back to Australia and he announced he was Superman and he could fly and he launched himself over the second floor banister?”

“The Superman incident.”

“Yeah, I definitely remember that. I was home alone with him. All of them. And he did that stupid shit.”

“They had put the no-no’s on him so he wouldn’t pick at the stitches. He was so pissed! He is a TRUE junior. Not just in name, either. He is so much like you, baby. A mini you.”

“I miss him. I miss all of them.”

“I know you do. And you’ll see them soon. When you get sent to the hospital back home.”

“That’s not soon enough.”

“No. It’s not. But I knew you wouldn’t want them here or staying in Mumbai. That’s why I sent them home.  It wasn’t to hurt you. Or punish you. You know that, right?”

“I know it wasn’t.  I know it’s what was best for them. I just miss them. And I guess I don’t really want them seeing me this bad.”

“You actually look really good considering. And you’ll get the stitches out in three days. Are they getting itchy?”

He nods.

“You’re going to be so sexy; with your new scars.”

“You have a very weird definition of sexy.”

“You’re my definition of sexy. I don’t care how many scars you have. Would it bother you? If it was me all beat up?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

“And that’s how I feel about you. To me you’re the most beautiful man in the world.”

“Did you just really drop the B word?”

“You’re beautiful and I don’t care what you say. Fight me.”

“You’d be able to kick my ass right now. Can I get rain check?”

She sighs dramatically. “I suppose.”

“Do they know? The kids? Do they know what happened?”

“They know the basics. I didn’t give them too many details. They know daddy got hurt and that he needs to stay here until the doctors say it’s okay to send him to a hospital closer to home. Maybe when you’re fully off the sedation and you’re up to it, you can video chat with them. They would love that. And I know you would too.”

“I can do that. Are they okay? With what you told them?”

“They’re sad. A little scared. But they’ve got a lot of people around them that will reassure them that you’re going to be okay. And they’re back at school and doing pretty good. They have a lot of crafts to show you. And the principal said there’s a special school. A private one; for kids like Tanner.  Gifted kids. Because he’s so smart and he’s not being challenged where he is and he deserves better than that. And we can more than afford it.”

“Do whatever you think is best for him. You know what that is. I trust you to make the right decision.”

“Both of their classes made you huge get well cards; they’ll show when you video chat with them. And they have so much to tell you.”

“I bet they do. And I can’t wait to see all of it. I miss it; that kind of stuff. I miss life in general. OUR life.”

“We’ll get back to it soon. We’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. Together.”

“Yeah…” Tyler smiles. “...we do.”

She leans down to kiss him. “Your daughter is super pissed. At me. For lying to her at first. She won’t talk to me.”

“She’ll get over it. You’re her mom. She loves you. You did what you thought was the best for her. And it was. It WAS the best thing for her.”

Esme nods in agreement, then closes her eyes and rests her head back against his chest. It’s incredible. That solid, strong body and the warmth that radiates off it, being able to both feel and hear his heart beating; the weight of his head as he rests his cheek against her hair. How even with those stitches in his left shoulder, he still manages to sneak his arm around her; hand resting on her baby bump.

“It’s getting big, huh?”

“It’s cute. Just makes you more beautiful. I can’t wait to see it; watching you get bigger with the baby. MY baby.”

“You sappy bastard you,” she teases, and tilts her head up towards him and presses a kiss to his chin. And for several minutes, neither of them speak; his hand moving in slow, smooth circles over her bump,  her body relaxing against his, feeling as if she could drift off into a peaceful, well deserved nap. But it’s short lived; eyes snapping open when she feels his body tense and then begins to tremble. It’s heartbreaking; the mental anguish so clearly etched on his face, the tears that stream down his cheeks.

“Baby…” she turns to face him, laying a hand on the side of his face. “...what’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

“I know; life’s pretty shitty at this moment.”

“You’re the only thing that’s right in it. You and the baby.”

“Don’t leave out how great you’re doing.  Because this is a huge right. Believe me, it is. You came so fucking close, Tyler. But you’re here and you’re doing amazing and things will only get better. And you have proved so many people wrong. That has to feel good, right?”

“It does actually.”

“I’m sorry. That you’re going through this. I’d take it all away if I could.”

“I know you would. I’m just glad you’re here. Not just here, here.  But HERE. Alive. Because what he said…”

“No,” she gently orders. “We are not going to talk about that. Don’t do this to yourself.  It doesn’t matter what he said. I’m here. The kids are fine. Fuck what he said. Please don’t think about that. Don’t think about him at all.”

“Hard not to. He’s the reason I’m in this fucking mess.”

“And he paid for it. Trust me, he did. So don’t give him another thought. Think about other things. Think about us. The kids. How good it’s going to be to get home. Even if it’s just to a hospital there. The one in Cairns is really nice. The ward you’ll be on? All the rooms overlook the beach. That’s perfect for you.  And you’ll be able to see the kids all the time once you’re there. That’ll do you a world of good.”

He nods in agreement.

“You’re tired. You need some rest. You’ve been up  a hell of a long time. I’m so proud of you. You have no idea HOW proud.”

He manages a small smile.

“You need sleep. You’ve used a lot of energy today already.”

“Doing what? Sitting on my ass?”

“It takes a lot of energy to heal. And you’ve been sleeping well; no pain for once. No bad dreams.”

“I had a good dream though. Good in a sad way.”

“About what?”

“My mum.”

“When you were a kid?”

“No. She was with OUR kids. At our house. She was on the beach with them; walking in the surf. And she looked back at me and she smiled and she was so beautiful…” his voice cracks with emotion. “...like that picture I showed you; the one when I was five. She looked just like that. And she was happy. She was SO happy. No bruises, no cuts, no old man in sight.”

“Baby…” she carefully kneels on the bed, then pushes her hands through his hair and kisses his brow. “...it’s okay.”

“I’d give anything for that dream to be real. Anything.”

“So would I, believe me.”

“After this first happened, I had a dream about her then, too. She told me not to be afraid. And I don’t know if that meant not to be afraid because I was going to be okay, or don’t be afraid to die.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the first one.”

“I didn’t want to die. But I was expecting to.”

Her heart shatters at his confession, and it takes all her willpower and strength to not cry herself. Instead, she places a hand on the back of his head and draws it down to her shoulder. Both of his arms -despite their injures and the pain and discomfort accompanying them- wrapping around her waist. His entire body shaking as he sheds enough tears for both of them.

*****

Koen and Rata take up residence in Tyler’s room while he sleeps. He can’t be left alone; panic immediately taking hold of him if he awakens and no one -especially her- is there with him. It’s the confusion and the ‘fog’ caused by the weaning of the sedation and the increase of pain meds; his brain not allowing him to remember where he is, why he’s there, or that she is even alive. Torturing him with the last thing ever said to him inside the storage facility; the promise that Asif’s people would get to her and the children, torture them, then kill them.

She goes to lunch with Sanjib and two others from the ICU ‘family’, a young woman whose brand new husband had been in a horrific car accident, and an elderly man whose only surviving relative -a great grandson in his twenties- had overdosed on a near lethal combination of street drugs.  And it makes her blood run cold when the latter situation leads to talk of Amir Asif and his long standing -despite his death- reputation as the biggest and most evil drug lord in Bangladesh history. She offers no comment or opinion; not revealing her own seven year long tie to the man in question or her connection to the infamous ‘shoot out’ on the Sultana Kamal Bridge or the now well known incident three days before. She acts oblivious to it all; pretending to both listen intently and concentrate on her food. The conversation makes her feel nauseous and anxious; internally screaming about the false information and pure speculation   being spread around the table. Desperately wanting to set the record straight yet knowing it isn’t her battle to fight anymore; the last of Asif’s men dead, their demise hopefully ending his posthumous reign of terror.  It’s hard not to share her personal -and very accurate- account of what happened seven years ago; the memories and the images still so vivid and fresh. She is still able to to remember certain moments right down to the very second; recall conversations word for word.  But it would be for nothing; stirring up a hornet’s nest that’s better left to wither and rot. That chances are good that she won’t be believed; her lunch companions would laugh it off and accuse her of lying and she’d be left with the anxiety or reliving the nightmare in the first place . And she’s thankful when the conversation changes  to other matters; world news and celebrity gossip.

“I almost forgot what it feels like,” Sanjib says, as they slowly make their way back to the hospital; a two block journey from the small dinner they’d converged on. “The sun on my face. The breeze in my air.”

“I almost forgot what it was like to wear real clothes,” Esme quips.  “ARE leggings considered real clothes? Real pants? Because none of my shorts or my jeans fit. I can’t even get them over my stomach, let alone closed and done up. I am not amused.”

“Real clothes are whatever you feel most comfortable in. My wife always says that; when someone complains about her choice of casual attire. How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know. We were in Mumbai when we found out about this little bean. It’s what we call them; when I’m pregnant. Little bean. Or beans, for the twins.”

“That’s very cute.”

“My husband started it; after the very first ultrasound with our daughter. He said she looked like a little bean and it stuck.  I can’t be anymore than thirteen weeks; it’s mathematically and biologically impossible. That’s the first time we...you know...after our last baby was born. And she was three weeks then , so…”

“It was a surprise? This baby?”

“Very much a surprise. In more ways than one. None of our kids were really planned, though. Declan in a way, I guess. That’s number four. We had a miscarriage between him and his older brothers; that’s why there’s three and a bit years between them. It did a lot of damage to both of us; mentally speaking. It took us a while to be ready to try again. But it happened quickly when we decided to go for it.”

“Do you have a preference? Boy or girl?”

“If I’m totally honest, I do. I want a boy. Our daughter Millie is six, and none of my boys have been as difficult as her. I love her to death; she’s my first and she’s beautiful and incredible. But holy crap! The drama! And the attitude! She’s just...I don’t know...she’s just extra. Do they use that word here? Extra?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well let me tell you , she is very extra! The pre-teen and years are going to be brutal. My husband wants a boy, too. Although it doesn’t really matter that much to him; he’s very ‘as long as momma and baby are healthy’. That’s all he really cares about. He worries about me. All the time. Even now. No matter what he’s going through...how brutal it is...he always puts me first. He’s pretty incredible that way. Actually, he’s pretty incredible in a lot of ways.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He is. He really is. He’s big and he’s tough and he can be pretty intimidating IF he wants to be, but he’s got a huge heart. When he loves, he loves huge. You should come into the room sometime and meet him; when he’s up to it. I think you’d really like him. He’s a little tough on the outside, but I promise he’s pretty tame.  Unless you’re threatening his family. THAT doesn’t go over well. He’s not afraid to defend and fight for what’s his. Or stand up for what’s right.”

“I’d like to meet him. He sounds…interesting.”

“He is. In his own way.  People are always surprised when they get to know him. They look at him and assume things about him.  Some ARE true, mind you. When you do meet him, you’ll see what I mean. He’s a study in contradiction. I learned that real quick. And I think it’s what made me fall in love with him in the first place.”

“And you met working?”

“We did. We were assigned to the same job. Just the two of us. Things took off from there. It’s kind of strange and a little complicated; the hows and the whys.”

“Try me. I’d like to hear it.”

“You sure? It’s a dandy. I don’t tell many people.”

“How bad could it be?”

“It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just...surprising.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“Alright. Keep in mind, this is something I don’t just don’t tell everyone. You’ll understand why when I DO tell you. No one ever expects it.”   Sighing, she takes a sip from the plastic cup of iced coffee in her possession. “Tyler...my husband...is a  mercenary.”

Sanjib stares down at her, both eyebrows arched.

“Right?” Esme laughs. “I said it was surprising. That’s not what you thought I was going to say, was it.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well he is. A mercenary.  And we met on the job. Here in Dhaka. Well, we technically met in Australia, but everything between us started here.”

“You’re one as well?”

“No.  I’m not. I never have been. My job was to help guys like him information they needed; about people they’re after. And this job we were on was a little different than most. We actually had to pretend we were married. That’s how it all started. How WE started. We met and things happened while we were working together and well…seven years and five kids….” she lays a hand on her bump. “...SIX kids later, here we are. My fake husband became my real husband.”

“Now I’m even more curious. What kind of job?”

“I had to help him find where a fourteen year old boy was being held. Amir Asif took him.”

“You’re talking about Ovi Mahajan's son?”

She nods.

“I was just a boy when that happened. Only sixteen. Forgive me, but how old ARE you?”

“Old enough to have almost six kids and an almost forty two year old husband. But if you thought I was younger, thank you. My ego needed that.”

“So you did know. About what we were talking about at lunch.”

“Yeah, I did.  And I wanted to say something and clear some things up, but it wouldn’t have done any good. It just would have stirred up a lot of bad things for me. A lot of bad memories. Things I can’t seem to let go of. And it wasn’t entirely wrong; what you guys were talking about. We DID cause a big old mess on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. That was all us.”

“You were there. On the bridge?”

“I was. I pretty much heard and saw everything that went down. It’s pretty accurate; the way it was described at lunch.  But the man who got the boy out…who was responsible for it...he is very much alive. And I’m very much married to him.  He got off the bridge. Barely. But he did.”

“I’m sorry. The stories have all been the same. That he died. On the bridge. If I’d known…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, and in a way, that’s what we wanted; people to think he died.  It meant they wouldn’t come looking for him. Which in turn meant I was safe, too. And eventually our little girl.  It worked for a while, but they...Asif’s people...figured it out. And they found us and made our lives hell and we’ve pretty much spent the last seven years worrying about when they’d physically come after us. Always wondering IF they would.  And they did.  They came hard. They teamed up with Mahajan and they took people we care about.  And that’s what happened four days ago. I know it’s been all over the news. The bloodbath at the storage facility north of here. About all the bodies; Asif’s people.”

“That was you?”

“Well not me per say, but yeah. It was.  They did and said horrible things. About me. About my children. Things they would do to my daughters. My little girls.   They’re six and four months, and these people were going to hurt them. In ways that physically make me sick to think about. I can handle what’s said about me. I’ve had bigger and better threaten me. But those are my kids. My babies. And when I think about what could have happened…”

“I’m sorry.” Sanjib says, and lays a comforting hand on her back. “I didn’t…”

“My husband isn’t usually about revenge. He’s the one always giving me shit when I talk about wanting it. But he won’t back down when people are threatening his family. Especially his children. He will fight to the death for them; no questions asked. And that’s almost what happened. They almost DID kill him. That’s what happened; in that storage place. He got our friends out and he got the revenge he wanted. That I wanted. I told him to do whatever he had to make them pay. And now look. Look what happened to him. He’s paid too high a price. Way too high.”

“He was protecting you. And your children.”

“It’s still too high.  These people are merciless.  But they didn’t expect him to be even more so.  So that’s what happened. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we were here  seven years ago. Because Amir Asif...alive OR dead...won’t leave us alone. He won’t let us rest.”

****

She returns to the hospital an hour and a half after she left; emotionally drained following the emotional conversation with Sanjib, but somehow feeling lighter. It felt good; as if some of the burdens and the lingering horror of seven years ago had been stripped away, making her feel lighter and more optimistic.   It’s a relief; getting it off of her chest. Able to finally vent to someone without the fear of judgment; able to just let go of some of the things that have been holding her back and weighing her down. It will be different this time; when they get home.  She’ll finally be able to let it all go.   To let the memories of seven years ago become just that; memories. No more dwelling on the mistakes made or the decisions that could have been different. No more nightmares and vivid recollections of that final twenty minutes on the bridge; holding a dying man in her arms and putting her fingers through the hole in his neck in a desperate attempt to keep him alive.

This time when she leaves Dhaka, she’s leaving it behind for good.

“You missed some excitement,” Koen says in a way of greeting when she steps into the room, slipping out of the bedside chair with a loud yawn and a languorous stretch.  

She sets her purse and a take out container of food on the window ledge. “ I don’t really  don't want to know do I.”

“You never told me about that drongo’s apprehension when it comes to strangers touching him.”

“Oh no…” she glances towards Tyler; fast asleep, hair damp and his beard trimmed. “...please tell me they didn’t send a PSW in here.”

“They sure as shit did.”

“I specifically told them NOT  to send in someone.  It’s written right in his chart; no one is to come in here and force their services on him.   How bad did it get?”

“Bad enough they wanted to sedate  AND restrain him. Seems like these blokes don’t know how to take no for an answer; no matter how big and strong the guy is that keeps saying no.   All those drugs in him and all those injuries, and that fucker fought with the strength of ten men. Took me and Rata and two orderlies to hold him down. Just to get his hair washed and his beard trimmed.”

“Was he sleeping? Did they wake him up to do it?”

Koen nods.

“That’s why he freaked out. When he wakes up he’s disoriented. He’s confused and he’s scared and being in a hospital freaks him out. He has to take meds when I go into labour; so he’s calm enough to walk through the front door and he can see his child being born.  It’s his fight or flight. And he chooses fight. Every damn time.”

“Color me surprised.”

“He was probably losing it because I wasn’t here, right?”

“He was upset; pretty certain you were dead. No matter how many times we told him you were fine and just went out for a bit. It was like he didn’t even hear us.”

“He probably didn’t. He doesn’t know what he’s doing when he’s like that. That’s what his brain does to him. And now you’ve seen it yourself. All those times you’ve got on his ass about being ‘sick in the head’ and to just ‘suck it up’. Well, now you’ve got to witness what it does to him. The PTSD.  How’d he calm down?”

“They gave him some meds. Through the line thing.”

“They sedated him? Are you fucking serious right now? You didn’t say anything?”

“They said it was just a little something to calm his nerves. And it worked; that poor PSW was able to get shit done.”

“Yeah, and now look. He’s out.  We are trying to wean him off sedation. Not give him more. Jesus Christ. This is what I wanted. I told them not to give him anything.  Why didn’t you call me? I would have come back right away. He would have been fine when I got here. I would have been able to calm him down. Now…” she gestures towards the bed. “...he’s out again. Not what I wanted.”

“I didn’t know that. If I’d known…”

“It’s not your fault. It’s theirs. They were told not to send anyone in here. I said I would do it. I’d wash his hair, cut it if he wanted, trim his beard. He was fine with that. He wanted ME to do it. And then they totally go against that? What the fuck?”

“Sorry, sunshine,” he presses a kiss to her cheek and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Didn’t mean to shit on your parade.”

“Where did Rata go? Did he get  scared off?”

“Once again, he saw something he liked. This time it WAS a brunette.”

“I thought he had a girlfriend?”

“They broke up when he agreed to become a merc. The world’s his oyster now.”

She gives a derisive snort and rolls her eyes.

“I’m going to get a drink. A stiff one.”

“There’s a bar in this hospital?”

“No. But there’s a mini one in my hotel room.  Need me to bring you anything?”

“Some tequila would be nice, but seeing as I have this inside of me…”  she lays her hands on the sides of her bump. “...I’m shit out of luck.”

“Shouldn’t have let something else inside you and it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Very cute,” she grumbles, and he playfully tousles her hair before heading from the room.

Esme toes off her running shoes and then slips into the bedside chair; leaning back and putting her feet on the mattress.

“You just had to be difficult didn’t you,” she lightly scolds her sleeping husband.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I left you here. And I’m sorry that they sent someone in here AND they gave you meds. That is not what I wanted. At all.  I don’t blame you for being pissed. I don’t like strangers touching me, either.  I met someone nice here though; another ICU family member. Just a young guy; his wife had a stroke giving birth to their first kid.  Remember how scared we were just because I bled a little too much with Millie? We thought THAT was scary. Or even when my blood pressure went up with the twins. We thought THAT was  bad. But this? Having a stroke while giving birth? What the hell? How can the universe allow that to happen? Bring a baby into the world but take its mom at the same time?  Can you imagine? You’d be a basket case and burn the whole fucking place down if something like that happened to me. And this poor guy…this new father…”  she shakes her head and fights back her tears. “...it’s just so sad.   His wife probably won’t make it and he’s got this beautiful baby girl at home. Maybe when you’re up to it, you can meet him and talk to him. A little dad to dad chat. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

She sighs heavily, then runs her hands over and along her bump.  “I need to be honest about something. Either this baby is going to weigh over ten pounds or there is more than one.  And if   it’s over ten pounds, I’m doing a home vasectomy on you. That way I’m guaranteed no more surprises.   We haven’t used any of those knives from the set your dad gave as a wedding present. I bet one of those bad boys could do the trick.  But, on the bright side, I brought you REAL soup for dinner.  Sweet potato and thyme. It’s delicious. I made them puree it really good.  I felt you deserved better than glorified baby food.  I hope you wake up soon.  I miss you. As corny as that sounds. I know we just talked like two hours ago, but I  miss being able to  talk to you whenever I want.  I miss spending time with you. REAL time. Not like this.”

She slides further down into the seat and moves her feet further onto the bed, until her toes touch the side of his thigh.  And she closes her eyes as she leans her head back against the chair; minutes away from sleep when a light knock comes to the door.

“Holy shit!” She can’t hold the cry that escapes from her mouth, the chair being pushed back from the bed as she hurries towards the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?!”

“Thought you might fancy a visit.”

“Oh my God...Andy…” She throws her arms around his torso and buries her face in her chest; not bothering to restrain the tears that flow from her eyes. “...what the hell? What…?”

He chuckles and embraces her warmly. “None of that now. No tears.  Unless they’re happy ones.”

“Happy and surprised ones,” she says, and he cradles her face in his hands as she looks up at him. “What are you doing here? In Dhaka?”

“Thought I’d come and see how things were. How the two of you are doing.  I’m an artist when I feel like it; I have  a lot of time on my hands.”  He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. “How are you?”

“Right this second? Shocked. I can’t believe you’re here. We just talked two days ago.”

“And after I hung up, I decided to come here. Thought you could use another someone. A different face.”

“I can’t believe you came here...all this way...for us.”

“That’s what friends do, right? They make a way to get to each other. I made a way. Here I am. How is he?”

“Amazing, actually. He’s doing really well. Proving a lot of people wrong, that’s for sure.  You can come in. He’s having more wakeful moments. He might wake up if he knows you’re here.”

“Let him rest. He needs it. Come with me….”  he slips behind her, then places his hands on her shoulders and steers her out of her room. “...I have something to show you.  Go out now; into the hall.”

“What are you up to?” She laughs, then glances left to right when she steps out onto the hall. “What do you have to show me?”

“Over here…” he lays his hands against the side of her face and turns her head to the right.  “...the nurses station. Look there.”

“What about it? A nurse is holding a baby and the rest of them are gathered and their ovaries are exploding at how cute the baby is. Why…”  her voice trails off, eyes widening and a hand moving up to cover her mouth. “...is that MY baby?”

“Someone missed their momma just as much their momma missed them.”

“Oh my God...Addie…” It comes out as a choked whisper, and she breaks away from her friend and rushes over to the nurse’s station.  

“She’s beautiful,” the young nurse holding the infant hands her over to her mother.  “And tiny.”

“Thank you. Oh my God...Adeline...” she manages through her sob of relief, and settles Addie along her arm,  Managing a laugh at the sight of the custom made onesie the baby sports; DADDY’S LITTLE PEANUT written across it in pink and purple glitter. “Addie…”  she presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and runs her fingers through that soft dark hair, smiling when the baby flashes one of her own and reaches for Esme’s hair.  “...I missed you. I missed you so much. I was worried you’d forget me.”

“You’re her momma,”  Andy says as he joins her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “She could never forget you.”

“Ovi was supposed to bring her. Tomorrow. What…?”

“Change of plans. I have a room across the street. If you want to stay here at night, she can stay there with me. I’m a dad; I know what I’m doing.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how badly I needed to see her.  To be with her.  I could never, ever thank you enough. Or repay you.”

“That smile is all the payment and thanks I’d ever need,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her head and leads her back to the room.