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purebarnes · 4 years ago

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courage to change—

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ➢ when one man gets a chance to go out and date but something is stoping him, wether it’s his guilt taunting him or the girl he was meant to be with.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ➢ 1.8k

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀꜱ ➢ angst, mention of death, therapy sessions.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋꜱ ! ➢ just enjoy.

all on his mind was his nightmares, he would constantly have them and when he had them, he wouldn’t tell anyone about them. especially his therapist, dr. raynor even though she needs to know so that she could help him. after he was brainwashed and turned into a assassin that all he thought himself as. she was on his mind constantly and nothing could change that—she was the girl for him.

probably the most bizarre combination of people to ever get together but if it was meant to be then that’s all that mattered. bucky always wanted to be with y/n but after her dad passing then he couldn’t bare to see her again. no calls, no notes, nothing which was common for someone like james. he would go to his court-appointed therapy sessions to get help so that he could be free. it was the usual, he wouldn’t talk to her and she would have to take down notes.

most people would cooperate but when you’re in his situation then it would be extremely difficult for you as well. he would sit across of dr. raynor just staring, “did you call her?” she asked and he tensed up staring at the ground intensity spreading throughout the whole room. she shook her head as she new the answer but she need something. he would constantly bring up sam and y/n but mostly her and it was like he couldn’t forget all the passion they had. “james. have you called her?” dr asked once more getting no answer from the man, this time he shook his head at her meeting her eyes. he wanted to call or do something to make sure she knew that he still cared about her. “i can’t call her—why not?” she interrupted him and honestly he didn’t have a answer on why he could talk to her.

she moved passed the topic of y/n and went to go to tell her about the nightmare that he indeed had last night as she knew that he had one. he would do the same, not say anything but this one was easier to dodge. “are you still having nightmares?—no.” he told her while he knew that he was and it would taunt him ever night. “well, you seem a little off today. i don’t want to mention her but—it’s not about y/n.” he tried to tell her, “did something happen recently?” she asked bucky getting another no from his lips trailing off like it was smooth.

bucky hated constantly saying no and lying about everything that was bothering him, “you’re a civilian now. with your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna...” the dr said putting up her first to show that he wouldn’t hurt anyone. he stifled a smile while she continued, “so, tell me about your most recent nightmare—i didn’t have a nightmare.” dr. raynor sighed deeply before clicking her pen to write into her notebook, bucky groaned. “oh, come on. really? you’re gonna do the notebook thing? why? it’s passive aggressive.” he mumbled.

“you don’t talk. i write—okay. okay, i thought about her but every time i see anything there she is. everywhere i go she doesn’t disappear.” he told the therapist slightly telling the truth and he never told her about the nightmare he had. “but like i said, i didn’t have a nightmare—look.... one day, you’re gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted.” she told him.

she wanted bucky to open and finally figure out that he needed to be able to trust. “i trust people—yeah? give me your phone.” bucky groaned reaching his back pocket to reach for his phone to pass it across. she went to check the contacts he had, “you don’t have ten numbers on this thing. oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from sam and still nothing to y/n. look, you’ve gotta nurture friendships. i am the only person you have called all week. that is so sad.” she passed the phone back to him as he caught it waiting for her to continue. “you’re alone. you’re a hundred years old. you have no history, no family, no girl—are you lashing out at me, doc? because that’s really unprofessional, you know? i mean, when did that start? yelling at your clients? the notebook. that’s great.” he sighed when he saw her pull out the notebook into her lap to write a few things.

“all right, give me a break. i’m trying, okay? this isn’t... this is new for me. i didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know? i had a little... calm in wakanda. i had her and i just lost her.” he explained to the doctor sighing at the thought of bringing her up again, he wanted to be able to just forget her but nothing could do that for him. he lied, he wanted her back and he wanted to feel her but he couldn’t do anything. he thought it was too late, “and other than that, i just went down one fight to another for 90 years.” she knew he had gone through a lot, it was a lot and she wanted to help and asked him what he wanted. “peace—that is utter bullshit.” she spat out honestly, “you’re a terrible shrink—i was an excellent soldier, so i saw a lot of dead bodies, and i know how that can shut you down. and if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell. and, james, it is very hard to escape.”

if he knew what he wanted, he could of done something to make it all happen. bucky was a man of trauma and he wasn’t going to get better by not helping himself. “you have your mind back, you are being pardoned. i mean these are good things. you’re free.”

wednesday’s were the days that bucky and mr. nakajima would go out and eat lunch at izzy, a little bar that they would love to go and eat at. it was a couple times that he loved to go out and eat with the older, younger than him man. as they talked, yori suggested to ask out the lady in front of him. “you should ask her out—i can’t.” he knew he wasn’t ready to go back and date some girl that wasn’t y/n, sure he thought she was pretty but he wanted an excuse to not date her. it wasn’t that he didn’t like her, “He would like to take you out on a date.” he told the young lady as she looked up and bucky shook his head, not understanding why he would do that. “I’m really sorry about him—why are you sorry? i’m game.” he was taken back and he clicked his tongue while being intrigued, “tomorrow night then?”mr. nakajima said as she agreed on going he sighed, knowing that it might be time to move on.

maybe not move on entirely but to see what would happen in the date that he would go on. he turned back to mr. nakajima, “i can’t believe you did that. it’s a dance to these things. you gotta warm up and i haven’t danced since...” he said then automatically thinking about y/n and all the times she would laugh with him or giggle at him. he froze then looked back at him. it didn’t hurt if he would just go on one date and for her to never find out even though they would probably never be together again.

it was around ten o’clock and the gentle men brought flowers for his date tonight thinking it would be a nice gesture thing to do. they met back into the bar where they were talking and laughing like they would have known each other for a long time. it was almost like he has been there before—she brought up dating and asked if he had dated before and he couldn’t just not tell her anything. when he didn’t say anything, she kept staring until he spoke up drink his drink. “what’re you doing—what’s her name?” he looked started on what she meant, “was she special?” she asked another question. this time he understood what he was talking about, “y/n.” he just said not trying to make anything awkward by talking about his ex lover to the girl he was on a date with.

he was unsure on how she knew that he was thinking about her on their date, “she must be special if you’re thinking about her right now.” she joked chuckling but bucky stayed quiet finally understanding how he felt. he wasn’t ready to be with someone else and it don’t make it easy when she would be in his head everywhere. bucky looked at the wall zoning out to anything at that moment, the girl tried to snap him out of it but nothing worked. she told him that he would bring games so that they could play to pass the time. he went back in that zone.

she was dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of shorts that showed of her curves easily to distract bucky. she didn’t mean for him to feel this way between her but he could help it. she would go over to her bathroom and starting putting away her essentials until she felt a vibranium metal arm. the coldness hit her shown skin as she shuddered as he went to wrap his arms around her waist. y/n looked up from her position and met his eyes through the mirror and smiled widely, he went to place small kisses on her shoulder—she groaned at him.

she turned around with his arms still placed on her waist, he moved his arm up to meet her back. she pulled up her arms and wrapped them gently around his neck, “stop staring like that.” she said looking into his blue eyes falling in love even more. he chuckled slightly caressing her check with his hand running it back and forth with his thumb. he couldn’t help but pull her in for a kiss which she accepted kissing him back. he let go of her then placing his head on top of hers telling her to go to bed. “let’s go to bed doll.”

he grabbed her hand leading them to the bed and getting ready to sleep with each other, in their arms. y/n unfolded her sheets jumping on the bed with bucky on the other side, she turned off her table light and turned to get closer to bucky while she moved to lay her head on his chest. she chuckle making bucky look down on her, “i love you.” bucky told her then falling asleep together.

the man looked to see the girl from the bar and he stuttered looking at her, “i, uh, i... i gotta go.” bucky got up from his stool and went to go straight the door before heading towards his own apartment. he went to open up his phone and he thought he would go and text her asking her how she was or that he even missed her. he wrote down a message but nothing came out, he would just fail to express how he felt.

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #sam tfatws #tfaws #tfatws series #marvel #mcu phase 4 #mcu imagine #fatws bucky #bucky imagine

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

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Breakable Heaven

Chapter 11 of In Breakable Heaven! We’re getting to the part that inspired the whole idea for this series, so I’m pretty excited!

Summary: Reader deals with the repercussions of being abducted.

Warnings: hospital recovery (I don’t know if that needed a warning but just in case), nothing else I can think of

Word Count: ~2100

You were wheeled out of the classroom on a stretcher, not fully conscious but not completely out of it either. Spencer stood frozen in the corner, watching as the medics loaded you onto the stretcher and wheeled you out of the room. You wanted nothing more than to be able to tell him you were okay, but you couldn’t form the words.

Waking up in the hospital was confusing. It took a lot of effort to open your eyes, but once you did you were instantly alert. The overhead lights put you on edge. The whole experience reminded you of how it felt when the trunk opened in the parking lot.

Your heartrate spiked, alerting the nurses to your anxious state. They rushed in the room, taking your vitals and administering medicine through your IV to calm you down, effectively putting you back to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, Penelope was first in the room the second visitors were allowed. You could tell it was her from the sound of her shoes clicking against the tile floor of the hospital.

“Hey Pen.” You smiled at her, glad to see someone you recognize after waking up this time around.

“You’re up! That’s good! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I can go get the doctor! Or a nurse!” She turned around, ready to get anything you might need.

“Pen! It’s fine. Just sit with me, please?” You shifted slightly, grimacing.

“Of course. Of course! Anything.” She moves farther into the room, settling down into the chair next to your bed.

“How’s um…” You want to ask about Spencer, but you don’t know how without outing your relationship, something you’re not sure Spencer wants at the moment. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Oh, sweetie, they’re great! We didn’t have any new cases, so they’re all stuck doing paperwork.” She’s all smiles, unknowingly confusing you. If he isn’t on a case, why isn’t Spencer visiting you?

“Oh, good. I’m glad they’re getting a break. They deserve it.” Your smile is weak, but thankfully Penelope assumes it’s from the pain.

The two of you keep talking, Penelope showing you videos of cute animals to help cheer you up, for a few hours before she has to leave. Just as she’s standing up to go, JJ walks into the room.

“Hi, Y/N.” You laugh at the timing.

“Hi JJ. Fancy seeing you here as soon as Pen is leaving.” Your first genuine smile of the day graces your lips.

“Why, you didn’t think I’d leave you all alone did you? We’re taking turns. I’ll be back!” With a wave and a smile, she’s out the door. JJ takes her spot in the chair, leading you through the same conversation as earlier.

The next few days repeat like that until you’ve healed enough to leave the hospital. Every member of the team took a turn visiting you except for one. The one you wanted to see more than anyone else.

Penelope drove you back to your apartment, offering to walk you all the way up.

“It’s okay, Pen. I can handle it. I just want to get back to normal.” You leant over the middle console to hug her before getting out of the car.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I never asked before, but I’ve been wondering...” Penelope trailed off, not knowing how to word her question.

“What is it?” Her show of nerves was putting you on edge.

“What was the phone call about? The one right before you were taken. You just looked so happy in the footage, I thought maybe if you remembered it you might have something to smile about.” She sounded so genuine, you didn’t know how to tell her it would only hurt more.

“Oh, ya know… I- uh, I don’t remember.” You stuttered through your response. “Thank you though. I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t need to be. I’ll be okay.” You smiled, turning around before she could see the tears welling up in your eyes.

The walk up to your apartment was the first time you had a moment to yourself since everything happened. It gave you a chance to really think about why Spencer wouldn’t have come to visit you. Unfortunately, you could only think of one reason that actually sounded plausible.

You shake your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts as you pull out your keys. You walk into your apartment, the darkness forcing you to realize how alone you felt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but an insistent knocking on your front door wakes you up.

You shuffle towards the door from your place on the couch, sparing a second to glance through the peephole. You open the door without a greeting, simply leaving it open and returning to the couch.

Spencer walks in, closing the door behind him. He stares at you in silence, unsure how to begin this conversation.

“Y/N…” He expected you to turn towards him when he spoke, but you remained face down on the couch. You knew what was coming and you couldn’t deal with it. “How are you?”

That surprised you. You mostly expected him to break up with you and run, not check up on you first. Maybe you were wrong to expect the worst. Maybe he just didn’t want to out your relationship, but him not visiting you left a sour taste in your mouth. Especially because you know he was in Quantico with the rest of the team.

“Funny, you would know if you bothered to visit. What? You didn’t want the team to figure it out that bad? Hell, Hotch visited me and I barely know the man!” You started mumbling into the couch, but your emotion intensified as you spoke. You rolled over, sitting up to look at him.

“No, that’s not why… I didn’t want to visit you because I… I didn’t want to...” He looked physically pained by the words he was trying to say. “I didn’t want to break up with you in the hospital.” He finished the sentence, not even looking at you.

“You what?” Your voice broke on the two word sentence. His words were like a slap in the face, surprising you after his gentle opening of the conversation.

“I think we should break up.” He said it with more resolve this time, as if he had practiced saying it with no emotion.

You could feel your breathing speeding up, trying to push back the tears you knew were coming. “But why? What happened? We were going to get dinner? I thought you were happy? I thought we were happy?” Your words were rushed in an attempt to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you.

“We can’t be happy together. It just won’t work.” Spencer’s words felt so cold. He stood in front of you emotionless while you felt as though the world was crumbling around you.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Spence, where is this coming from? This is so different from the last time we talked, a complete 180- No. 540 because we’ve gone all the way around and then kept spinning!” You were more confused than anything, unable to understand why he was saying these things.

“It’s just how it has to be. Goodbye.” He turned and left without another word, leaving you to piece together where it all went wrong.

You sat on the couch, staring at the door as if he would walk back in and say it was all a dream, that he was happy with you, and everything would be fine as long as you were together.

You stared, unmoving, until the beginnings of daylight began to filter into your apartment through the curtains. The sounds of people getting ready for their days began to filter through your apartment building as you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up later that night, everything felt like a dream, the only reminder being the dried tears on your face. You spent the next few days trying to figure out what went wrong, but every single time you came up empty.

Penelope came by to visit you every chance she got, but you never told her about you and Spencer. Even when she told you how he has been acting off.

“How’s the rest of the team doing?” You asked in an attempt to learn about Spencer.

“Oh, they’re fine. Wrapped up another case yesterday. Apparently Spencer was acting a bit off though, nobody can get him to talk about it. I think Hotch and Rossi have an idea about it, but they wouldn’t budge when I asked.” She supplied you with the information you were craving.

“Off? What do you mean?” You tried your best to sound nonchalant as you prodded for more information.

“He just seems a little sad, but whenever anybody asks him what’s wrong he gets defensive. It’s typical Spencer behavior. Someone will get through to him eventually, and he’ll open up. Derek and I were theorizing, and he thinks it has to do with his secret girlfriend. Speaking of opening up though, have you considered therapy? I know you said you don’t want to talk about what happened, but I think it could be good for you to get it off your chest! I mean, you’re not even listening to music anymore! I just want you to be happy again, and I know it’ll take some time because you went through a trauma, but talking about it helped me when I was shot, and I know everybody deals with things differently, so don’t feel like you have to go talk to someone, I just want to help in any way I can, even if that means-”

“Pen, I actually scheduled an appointment for tomorrow.” You smiled at your friend, cutting off her rambling. Dealing with the breakup on your own has actually been more difficult than dealing with the kidnapping. At least you could talk to Penelope about your feelings regarding being kidnapped and tortured, but bottling everything else up inside was not healthy.

“That’s good. I’m really glad you’re taking the necessary steps to move on and heal.” She replied, smiling again.

“Thanks Pen.” You couldn’t help but wonder what she would say if she knew the whole truth.

After a week off, you went back to work at the bookstore. You just wanted things to be as normal as possible. That was kind of hard with the media circus surrounding your kidnapping, but you did your best.

You were actually unprepared for the media involvement. From your perspective, the case was over before it really began. You were only “missing” for about 5 hours, but it’s difficult to keep a case quiet when the suspect was shot and killed in a public high school. It’s one of the things you worked through in your therapy appointments.

After your first appointment, you scheduled another for later in the week. You decided to go twice a week for a month while things were still so fresh, and then you decreased it to once a week.

After about a month of therapy, you decided to do another cover show. Your therapist helped you work through the emotions enough that you could once again turn to music to heal. After scheduling the show, you called Penelope to invite her and the rest of the team.

“Hey Pen! Are you busy this Saturday?” You surprised yourself with how happy you sounded.

“Not unless a case pops up, but right now everything looks clear. What did you have in mind?”

Penelope wasn’t oblivious to your happy attitude, but ultimately she decided not to mention it for fear of putting a damper on things.

“I’m actually going to do a mini-show, just three songs, but I wanted to invite you and the team! I think it will be really cathartic for me to get all of this out in the open.” You planned the three songs with your therapist. It would be a way for you to tell Spencer everything you were feeling. He wouldn’t answer your calls or texts, and he might not even come to the show, but you decided you needed to get your feelings out there even if he wasn’t there to hear them.

“That’s wonderful! I’ll make sure everyone is there!” Penelope couldn’t hold in her joy as she squealed in delight.

“Thanks Pen, but don’t force anyone. Only if they want to come!” Your words were playful, but you didn’t want Spencer to feel like you were forcing him to come through Penelope.

“Okay, fine. But I’m still going to pester!”

The two of you hung up the phone, eagerly awaiting Saturday.

tag list:

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#spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

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Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 1

******

It’s been two and a half hours. Your notepad and pen have been long since set aside and your tea is now cold, the little that’s left. You’ve tucked your legs underneath yourself, calves pressed against your butt, as a blanket rests on your bottom half.

Across from you the brunette boy hangs from the ceiling as he continues to talk.

“I didn’t even have time to think about how that must’ve made Aunt May feel. My teachers told her I went missing on the trip and she couldn’t contact me because I left my phone on the bus and even if I had it I was in space and I don’t think long distance calls cover the solar system I was in, which would’ve been cool if-”

“Pete.” You mess up your eyebrows as you run your fingers over them. The boy keeps going.“ Pete.”

“- and even though she got dusted she-”

“Peter!” You exclaim, stopping his rant.

His head whips down as he looks at you, noticing the still sweet yet slightly tired expression on your face. With an apologetic smile, he eases himself down from the ceiling and flops on to couch.

“Sorry. You don’t want to hear all my problems.” Fingers wringing in his lap, he looks away from you.

You stand and walk over, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder,“ it’s my job to listen to your problems Pete. And I do want to hear them, just pause. Your time was up an hour ago.”

His demeanor changes with the physical contact from you. The sad, guilty, expression brightening, a smile left behind.

You remove your hand and take a deep, settling, breath.

The chuckle you give makes him laugh,“ sorry, I just like having someone to listen.”

“I’m happy to listen and if I didn’t have other appointments I’d let you finish.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“If you can’t hold on then my last appointment ends at four, come see me after, if you want.”

He smiles and gives you a quick hug,“ thanks Y/n, your the best. And I can be a little patient I’ll wait till my next appointment.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” Before he can leave the room you stop him,“ oh and Peter, try writing it all down. Sort of like an apology to May. It’s clear you feel guilty about worrying her. Whether you share it with her or not, putting it on paper might help.”

Giving you a thumbs up, he leaves out.

After cleaning up his pop cans and chips, you grab your cold tea and leave your office.

It’s now been six months since you moved into the Avengers compound. Your old friend and occasional patient, Tony Stark, asked/recruited you to come lend a hand.

As a licensed therapist and superpowered empath, Tony figured you could help everyone move past, or at least come to terms with, everything that happened with Thanos, himself included.

Once you agreed the man moved you into the compound and gave you an office space.

You spent your first week here getting to know the team, none of them being overly excited about the new comer. Especially not one who later revealed herself to be their “therapist.”

But time helped, in most cases. Tony and Peter were the first to open up to you, both guys being talkative. The difference is Peter actually takes your suggestions and help while Tony simply tells you his problems and then compartmentalizes.

Shortly after them was Sam Wilson. Aside from his relentless flirting and overly joking attitude, he’s very receptive to help and open about his emotions. Much like him is Steve. The blonde man had no problems relenting his feelings to you and taking your help in return, he just struggles with actually using said help.

Mister Clint Barton is probably the easiest person to help. There are a number of things he wasn’t “excited” to share and other things you barely had to ask about. He revealed that he talks to his wife Laura about certain topics but had yet to even address somethings with himself.

Your biggest difficulties lie in the lives of Wanda Maximoff, James Barnes, and Natasha Romanoff.

Wanda, while trusting you as a friend, had not a single interest in sitting down to discuss her traumas. She’d lost too much and suffered to greatly to even begin to process it. Months in and the most she’s talked about is the death of her parents and very few happy moments with her brother.

James, or Bucky, was silent. He watched you, eyed every move you made and sized you up like you were a target. Seeing as he pegged you as someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly, he figured you had no ill intentions. To this day though, he struggles to open up. You mostly talk about his friendship with Steve.

And Natasha. You’d yet to even have a session with the mysterious red head. Your first week in she ignored you. Your second week she made it abundantly clear she didn’t want anything to do with your “therapy.” By the third week you barely saw her around the facility.

Still, you are far from giving up hope on anyone.

You find that you’ve made it all the way to the kitchen despite being lost in thought.

Wanda and Steve stand in front of the stove, the blonde man intently watching what the young girl is cooking, both oblivious or unbothered by your presence.

Gaze flickering over to Sam sitting with Bucky at the counter, you smile.

“Ready for your appointment Sam?”

He gives you a smile and winks,“ always.”

The man waits for you to fix another cup of tea before following you to your office.

Sam wastes no time getting comfortable on the sofa, wrapping himself up in the Sherpa blanket you provide after he’s grabbed two bags of skittles and a pop from the fridge.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the snacks each member of the team prefers and in an attempt to make them more comfortable you stocked your office with the treats.

“Alright gorgeous, you’ve got me all to yourself, wassup?” He finishes with another wink and a smirk.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you set down your mug, and pull the notebook you use for him from your desk.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t flirt with me in here?”

He shrugs,“ what’s the fun in that?”

You smile at him, sitting in your chair and sipping your tea,“ when we’re in here and that door is closed it’s about you Sam, you aren’t helping yourself by disassociating.”

For a moment he looks away, popping a few skittles into his mouth. When your eyes connect again you know he’s ready to be serious.

“Did you do complete the exercise I asked you to do?”

“Yeah yeah.” He grumbles, whipping out his phone.

Two hours later you’re giving the man a hug and exiting your office shortly after him.

Despite the team gathering for dinner, you head up to the roof.

It’s always been heavy on you to take on the emotions of the team. As much as you love helping them and having them trust you, it becomes a bit much.

When it gets overwhelming you step away. Taking some time to process everything you’d taken in and work through it.

Using your powers in this way has a downside. When you take away the horrible feelings they have toward themselves, it’s absorbed into your own emotions. Sadly, you can’t just make them disappear from yourself like you do with the team. You have to process and deal with it all.

Not surprising at all, the members you will see tomorrow are going to ruin you: Steve, Bucky, and Wanda.

******

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #prove me wrong #reader insert

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kissjane · 4 years ago

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LONELY NIGHT / Short fic

#48 from this prompt list

I think the lovely 🐝 wanted something like this, and some other anonymous Davenzi shipper… Hope you’ll like it.

I called you at 2am because I need you

Trying to sleep alone is the absolute worst. It is bad enough to not be able to see his boyfriend during the day, but at least during the day, he can distract himself with other things. Right now, in the middle of the night, all David can think about is Matteo.

The past few weeks have been nothing but horrible. First David had spent a few days at his parents’ house, and when he got back, Matteo had been rushing to finish a big project for school. When that finally had been handed in, his mother had suffered a bit of a relapse and Matteo had gone to stay with her. He had gotten back to the flat share last Thursday, and David had been more than ready to finally spend some quality time together, but then Hans had decided a party was in order. As usual, it had lasted until early morning, and there hadn’t even been time for a shower together before they had to rush off to class. On Friday they had been invited to Amira and Mohammed, and by the time they had left there, the cold that had been threatening to break through for a few days had made David cough and sniffle, and he had sent Matteo home alone. He’d stayed mostly in bed all weekend, and then when he had finally felt better, it had been Monday again and the normal hustle that came with it had overtaken them once more.

And now they were back to Thursday, and David had snapped at everybody – at breakfast, he’d yelled at Laura for chewing too loud, and before class, he had told a few unsuspecting classmates off because they were giggling about one of David’s favourite movies. During his lunch break, he had scoffed at Carlos and Kiki sitting too close together, which had greatly confused Carlos because he and Matteo would have been even closer – but Matteo had been spending his lunch breaks in tutoring recently. He’d even thrown some sarcastic remark at Hanna when she had walked to the library with him, and when he had stopped by the flat share in the hope of catching Matteo before David had his therapy appointment, he had snarled at Mia and Vicky.

Matteo had sent David a text during the latter’s appointment, asking if he was okay, why he was so grumpy and curt with everybody recently, and if Matteo had done anything wrong.

And David had been ashamed at his behaviour, when he had read the texts after he left his therapists’ office, but by that time it had been over an hour since Matteo had sent them, and David hadn’t known how to explain that he was just frustrated.

His finger had hovered over his phone to call Matteo, but it had been late, and Matteo had seemed so tired when they had briefly talked over the phone that morning, in between classes. So he had just gone home with lead in his shoes.

And as he lays in his bed, tossing and turning, constantly frustrated by the lack of a warm snoring body, he remembers that tomorrow isn’t looking good either. Matteo has class until late and on top of that, he is supposed to get together with some classmates for a group assignment in the evening. It doesn’t look like they will have much time together, and Saturday they already agreed to go help out Jonas with a surprise he was preparing for Hanna’s birthday.

David sighs. He wonders why the whole world is conspiring against him. Is it that bad to want an hour alone, undisturbed, with his boyfriend? Hell, he’d settle for thirty minutes at this point.

He didn’t even know it was possible to miss somebody this much. And it feels like he is overreacting, too – it isn’t like he hasn’t seen Matteo at all, they’d hung out plenty. But it’s just – they haven’t been alone. And while Carlos is right, they are always touching somehow when they are together, it isn’t enough. David needs to be closer to Matteo, to feel the warmth of Matteo’s skin, to breathe the same air, to rest his head on Matteo’s chest and hear his steady heartbeat in his ear. And he also needs Matteo inside him, and Matteo’s tongue all over, and to taste Matteo, and to watch how Matteo closes his eyes and tenses his whole body when he comes. It isn’t wrong to want to have sex with your boyfriend, is it?

Long story short, David is horny, and frustrated, and he doesn’t care about being needy. It is unbearable. He grumbles out loud, trying to get comfortable, hugging Matteo’s pillow as some sort of ersatz Matteo.

Nothing helps. The blankets are too heavy, but without them, he is cold, and the bed is too big without Matteo. He grabs his phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding him, thinking he can watch something on YouTube until he falls asleep. But automatically, he goes to Instagram, checking out Matteo’s pictures, or his own with Matteo in them. And then he opens up their chat history, reading the silly messages of love they exchange all the time. His thumb almost caresses the screen, as if it is Matteo’s face. And then suddenly he notices that Matteo has been active recently.

Before he completely realizes what he is doing, he has pressed call. Matteo answers almost immediately.

“David? What are you doing awake? It’s almost 2 a.m.”

Just hearing Matteo’s voice makes all the stress and grumpiness disappear, and David laughs.

“I could ask the same,” he retorts, his voice teasing.

He can almost hear Matteo smile, and he curls up between the sheets, thinking about how Matteo is probably doing the same right now.

“Is everything okay?”, Matteo asks softly, after a few moments of companionable silence, and David’s cheeks flame up in shame again.

“Yeah…”

Matteo presses on.

“You can tell me, if I did something wrong… I mean, you seemed so grumpy earlier, and Mia said you came by and she thought you were angry… But I can’t figure out what I did, so just tell me, please…”

“Oh, Teo…” David sits straight up against the wall. “You did absolutely nothing wrong!”

“Are you sure? But you are upset about something, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s just because I’m so frustrated that we haven’t had any time together between the two of us. I miss you, that’s all.”

Matteo is silent, and David wonders if anything is wrong.

“Matteo?”

“Yeah,” the reply comes quickly, “I’m still here. I just… You really are so angry and snappy because you miss me? That’s all?”

God, David didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love with Matteo, but he just did. He might just have melted at the softness in his boyfriends’ voice. But the fact that Matteo doesn’t get how much David needs him must be rectified, immediately.

“That’s all? It’s just about everything! You are everything. So when I can’t have you, of course I’m gonna get snappy. I need my Matteo fix. I needed my Matteo fix two weeks ago, in fact. A day without alone time with you is… not a good day, no matter what else is going on.”

Matteo laughs softly.

“Really? I didn’t know. I thought I was the clingy one…”

“Hey!”, David retorts. “I’m not clingy. I just know a good thing when I see it, and I don’t plan on letting go. You’re stuck with me.”

“Just the way I want it.”

They both laugh, and then the line goes silent for a few minutes, only the sound of their breaths coming through.

“I miss you too, you know…”, Matteo then speaks, softly, a bit hesitatingly. “If you want –”

He cuts himself off, and David knows Matteo doesn’t want to assume, doesn’t want to pressure, doesn’t want to offend – so he just takes the proverbial bull at the horns.

“Can I come over?”

He hears the sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line, and then Matteo’s beautiful laugh.

“Hurry up.”

David is already out of his bed, pulling on some pants and a hoodie over his sleeping shirt, not bothering to find socks.

“Be there in ten.”

“Good,” Matteo says. David can hear the excitement in his voice. “Use your key.”

David smirks.

“Why?”, he asks, as he tiptoes through the flat, opening the front door, rushing down the stairs.

“Can’t open the door naked…”

David unlocks his bike in record speed and starts pedalling as fast as he can.

“Be there in five,” he pants, hearing Matteo’s delighted laugh right before he ends the call. The image of a naked Matteo waiting for him is incentive enough.

He makes it in four.

#I write things #davenzi #🐝#all the davenzi shipping anons #50 cliché prompts

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #7- Just in Case You Forgot Decepticons Were a Thing

While the Lost Light gets all of Rung’s appointments in order, our narrative is going to take a little shift, so we can get to know some pretty neat dudes.

And by “neat dudes” I mean completely morally and ethically reprehensible bastards.

But first, here’s a brief history of the Phase-Sixer known as Black Shadow.

Very limber, Mr. Shadow. Also, note the abstract sort of Decepticon insignia shape going on with the panel. That’s just neat.

Now, Black Shadow’s kicked a lot of keister in his long, storied career as a ‘Con, which makes his current situation all the more bleak, as he’s in the final throes of a visit with the Decepticon Justice Division.

The guy with the arm-mounted cannon that’s clearly compensating for something is Tarn, the leader of the DJD. His main character trait is he’s sapiosexual, but only for Megatron. He’s so devoted to the Decepticause and its rhetoric, he wears a mask of the insignia at all times.

Behind him are Helex and Tesaurus, who turn into a fondue pot and industrial-sized blender, respectively, and Vos, who turns into a sniper rifle, and was once fired by Megatron himself. I assume he’s only part of the DJD for the clout.

And then there’s Kaon, who turns into a wheelie chair.

Black Shadow’s looking pretty rough, but the boys haven’t killed him yet, and there’s a reason for that; the DJD’s sole reason for existing is to punish any Decepticon who stalls the glory of Megatron’s vision of a better tomorrow coming to fruition, no matter how slight the infraction, and simply killing their victims doesn’t exactly drive the point home, now does it? They’ve got to make an example, you know?

But really it’s so Tarn can pontificate. See, he considers himself a bit of an intellectual, as shown in his quoting of Megatron’s autobiography, Towards Peace.

Ugh, He’s a fanboy. It’s enough to make you want to puke. Which Black Shadow does. It’s mostly blood. Or is it? Hard to tell, energon is everything for these guys.

The DJD have had their fun, so now it’s time for them to say goodbye to Black Shadow. This is where Tarn’s special talent comes into play, and it’s a nasty one.

Tarn has a unique voice, one that, when matching the timbre and frequency of another ‘bot’s spark, can be used to affect said spark, even making it give up the ghost. This is exactly what he does to Black Shadow, but not before making him apologize for selling out the Decepticons for a butt-ton of money.

Speaking of unique voices, Tarn’s characterization is almost completely in his. It makes sense, given his power, that he have a way of speaking that stands out from everyone else. It’s smooth, and cool, and seems well-rehearsed; this is not a guy who stumbles on his words. He sounds like a Bond villain.

Roberts has admitted that he wrote these characters with English accents, and while I can’t say that I buy it for everyone in MTMTE, I certainly do for Tarn.

But maybe that’s just because I’m American, and a lot of the media I consumed growing up had the whole “the villain sounds British/camp gay” thing going on.

Anyway.

Black Shadow explodes, because we haven’t had one of those in a while.

With another tick put on their List, the DJD get ready to move on to their next target. We don’t get any names, but whoever they are, they’re about to have a very bad day.

Then we take a quick jump back to the Lost Light, since things were kind of a massive mess when we last saw everyone.

Rung’s not dead, by the way. I guess Swerve really is just that bad of a shot. Still, he’s not much more than a brain on a rope, and that means that Rung’ll be out of commission for a good while.

Poor Swerve. He feels so awful about this whole thing, even brought Rung one of his little ships to keep him company. The worst part is, now that Swerve’s shot the therapist, who will he talk to so he can work through having shot the therapist?

Speaking of guys who need therapy, Red Alert comes visiting in the dead of night, after visiting hours and in cover of darkness. He tells Rung about the little surprise he found in the basement, and bids him farewell, as he will surely be killed now that he knows about Overlord.

Who the hell programmed that drone to be so menacing?

Red Alert, again showing that this ain’t his first paranoia rodeo, slips a data slug full of Overlord bondage footage into the hole where Rung’s thumb should be- guess it got lost in the helter-skelter when he got shot- then walks out of the medibay, presumably to die.

Anywho, that’s enough of the Autobots for a little while. Let’s see what the Decepticons are up to.

On a planet far from wherever the Lost Light is faffing about, a Decepticon wakes up to a bunch of dudes hovering over him, insulting his looks, and stealing his organs. He reacts accordingly.

This is Fulcrum. No, not the Decepticon medic from Eugenesis, different guy. This Fulcrum’s primary function is probably about as removed from healing as it gets.

The guys trying to harvest him are the Scavengers, and they’re pretty surprised that he’s not dead, because, well…

Yeah.

Misfire- the dude who got kicked in the face a second ago- does both Fulcrum and the reader a solid by introducing all the members of this merry band of assholes, starting with the surliest of their ranks.

Crankcase was first introduced into the IDW run in Stormbringer #3, where he shot at Thunderwing and spouted off a couple lines ripped straight from a porno.

Stormbringer is really just… something else.

Spinister, who can and will shoot anything that meets his unpredictable criteria of being a threat, is the only other Scavenger who isn’t debuting in the comics with this issue. He was in Stormbringer #4, not that he really did anything of note there.

There’s Flywheels, who can’t tell a lie without transforming, and is a born-again evangelical. His character is a removal from his previous iterations, as he’s a triple-changer instead of a Duocon, a robot that only exists if two separate sentient vehicles combine. So, in his case, tank + plane = giant robot. Transformers is weird.

Then there’s the leader of this group, the ever-stressed, glorified babysitter, Krok.

Krok takes the opportunity to save Fulcrum from the verbal barrage, explaining that the Scavengers are expropriation specialists, meaning that they take people’s shit for their own benefit, and that includes bodily fluids. Misfire was supposed to be siphoning energon from the corpses in the area, but accidentally got high on another dude’s supply in the process. Misfire may be hopped up on drugs at the moment, but he’s only a bit more put-together sober, so this really is roughly par for the course with him.

Back on the Lost Light, Chromedome pays a visit to Brainstorm, who is currently hanging from the ceiling. Not in a suicidey way, mind you, just in a Brainstorm way.

He wants to be noticed so badly.

Chromedome’s here because he managed to steal Skid’s weirdly forgettable gun back in issue #4, while Skids was busy harassing that bar drone. He handed it off to Brainstorm to try and figure out what the deal was. Problem is, the gun blew up the moment Brainstorm cracked it open, only allowing him to get a quick look at the internals thanks to his super-futuristic robot eyes. All he can really say is that it looks like something that came from The Institute. Back at it again with the ominous proper nouns.

Getting back to the Scavengers, it looks like the boys have set up a little campfire for the evening. It’s a gorgeous night.

In love with the colors this issue.

We get a very brief history lesson that shows us why reducing your workforce to a spreadsheet instead of living, free-thinking creatures isn’t a super great idea, and then Krok drops the bomb on Fulcrum about the war being over. This is pretty wild to Fulcrum, probably because after 4 million years of that nonsense, you don’t really expect it to ever actually end.

Of course, when the impossible turns out to be possible after all, there’s only one question to really ask: who won?

Now, none of the guys really know how everything ended, only going off of the pulse wave that Vector Sigma shot off during the reformatting of Cybertron. They figure it was probably the Autobots, because they’re at least a little genre savvy. Bummer for them, considering they’re technically part of the bad guys. Just ask the campfire.

You know, I don’t think this is what President Roosevelt had in mind when he started doing fireside chats.

And so our location is finally revealed to us- this is the planet known as Clemency. Hey, wasn’t that the place Tarn said their next target was? Man, that really sucks for these guys. Hope they’ve got their wills in order.

Meanwhile, in the medibay of the Lost Light, Rung has another late-night visitor. This guy takes the data slug from inside his thumb hole, thus removing any hope of Red Alert’s fate being found out. Well dang.

Back on Clemency, the boys have made it through the night, and are using the light of daybreak to start scrounging up parts for their super sweet ship, the Weak Anthropic Principle.

Hold on to your butts, because this one’s a doozy.

The Anthropic Principle is based in the school of philosophy, and states that any and all observations about the universe- or any universe, really- have to be fed through the filter of realizing that said universe is only observable because it allows for sapient life to exist and observe it. There are two flavors of this principle; the strong anthropic principle states that the universe has some sort of compelling force which dictates it be able to house life which can observe it, while the weak anthropic principle basically says that the only reason we’re even considering the strong anthropic principle is because we live in a universe where we can.

Now, why exactly Roberts decided to bring this philosophical idea into the fold completely escapes me, unless he decided to, in a roundabout way, poke fun at the fact that we are currently observing a universe we don’t exist in through the magic of fiction- that theory doesn’t hold water, though, because there are still sapient creatures populating the universe of the IDW comics, and even humans at that. I’m curious where he even learned about this. What an odd, confounding tidbit of information this is.

But enough about that, because Misfire’s just seen a cryptid.

He transforms and blasts past Fulcrum and Krok, interrupting Krok’s explanation of what the device he keeps hidden in his fist is for, trying to catch up to the Necrobot.

The very same, Fulcrum, thank you.

Misfire is a firm believer in the Necrobot, while Krok is firmly not. Misfire’s tried chasing down this guy several times now, but he’s not caught him. The Necrobot is kind of like Bigfoot, if he were also a Catholic priest. This go doesn’t prove any different for poor Misfire, though it’s not all bad.

Flywheels’ only purpose as a character is so that Roberts had a stand-in for the word “fuck” for this issue.

Misfire’s found something very exciting, and he immediately calls Krok to bring everyone over.

Everyone’s super jazzed about finding this thing, and they break out the flashlights and break in to see all the fun stuff that’s inside this obnoxiously large ship.

Of course, this is a Roberts story, and we haven’t yet had any sort of scientifically experimental horrors yet, so we’re honestly a little overdue at this point.

But wait, there’s more!

Aww, it’s nice that Fulcrum and Krok already have each other’s contact info.

Everyone regroups and they weigh their options. Misfire fucking hates this ship, and wants nothing to do with it. Fulcrum however, isn’t so quick to throw this entire nightmare bus off the cliff. Fulcrum’s a little weird, and not just because he looks like he’s got a military pack on and no shirt.

Oh honey, you got a storm coming.

As if on cue, Krok starts hearing music, and asks around for a phone. He picks up a transmission from a familiar masked face. Tarn lets the fellas know that one of them has done a big no-no, and if the others hand the transgressor over, he’ll let them watch, because Tarn assumes that that’s something other people are into. Tarn is bad at people. The transmission ends, leaving the boys to panic, and also wonder where the leader of the DJD learned to count, until they find a very special friend deep within the bowels of the ship. The extra life signal, and the only other living thing on the Worldsweeper- Grimlock.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 7 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #incoming analysis #comic script writing

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allthingsfangirl101 · 5 years ago

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RA&L Chapter 20: Too Well For Too Long

Masterlist

The next week I went through the processes of getting ready to leave. I had to go through several tests to make sure I was okay to leave. My parents came and started the paperwork that takes 2-3 days to process. Jack and Jason came after school and helped me pack. As the week came to an end, it got more and more real.

"Let me guess, it just got real that you're leaving in two days."

I turned around to see Dylan in my doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. "Maybe," I shrugged, making him laugh.

He walked into the room and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest. "I can't imagine what you must be feeling," Dylan whispered.

I leaned my head against his chest, a sigh leaving my lips. "After a rollercoaster of a year, I'm finally going home. Home home. All the tests, appointments, therapy sessions, medicine trials, painful PT. I feel like all of this, not just me leaving Sunday morning, is a dream and I'm terrified I'm going to wake up."

Dylan pulled out of the hug, turned me around, and used his finger to make me look up at him. He smiled before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my lips. I instantly got lost in the kiss as our lips started moving in sync. Dylan was the first to pull away, a playful smirk on his face.

"Did that feel like a dream?" He teased.

"Little bit," I shrugged. Dylan smirked at me with a small laugh.

"I have an idea," Dylan said randomly. "What if I take you out on Saturday night to celebrate you going home? I know this local dance studio that holds open dance parties every weekend. It's not super crazy. Mainly just dancers who attend the studio, their families, and sometimes older couples who come to waltz. It could be fun."

I smiled as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck nervously. "That sounds like a lot of fun. We can make it into a whole night. We can get all dressed up, go to dinner before. It'll be really fun."

He let out a sigh of relief as he nodded along with my suggestions. Suddenly, the smile fell from his lips.

"You know nothing is going to change between us once you go home, right? I know I start filming my new movie soon, but I'm not going to drop you or forget about you or ignore you. We'll still talk every day, hang out around our schedules, go on dates where we outrun paparazzi," he said, making me laugh. "We'll still be. . ."

"Together?" I asked, finishing his sentence when he didn't.

"More than that," he said, shaking his head softly. "I know I haven't officially asked you yet, but I just figured we were already. . ."

"Already what?"

He hesitated before speaking up. "Will you be my girlfriend, officially?"

I couldn't stop the smile that formed on my lips. "Of course," I said, a small giggle escaping my lips.

Dylan smirked as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips moved in sync.

"Enough of that." We pulled apart and turned around to see Evan smirking at us from the doorway.

"Sorry," we said in sync as we stepped away from each other. Evan laughed as he walked into my room. His smile fell as he looked around at the boxes the movers my parents hired were supposed to come to pick up Sunday morning.

"Wow," he said under his breath. "I can't believe after all this time, you're leaving." He looked over at me, tears in his eyes. I smiled as I walked over and gave him a hug.

"Don't get me wrong," he said as he pulled out of the hug. "I'm happy you're better, but I'm a little sad you're leaving."

"And you say you don't pick favorites," Dylan joked.

Evan sent him a playful glare as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "Della is my favorite," he said, failing to keep his glare.

There was an awkward silence that Evan broke by clearing his throat and unwrapping his arm from my shoulders.

"So, movers are coming Sunday morning with your parents when they come to pick you up," Evan ran through the plans. "Your mom wanted me to remind you to pack clothes for tomorrow, tomorrow night and Sunday morning in a backpack or overnight bag that you can easily throw in their car when they get here."

I nodded, already having that bag packed. I looked over at Dylan to see him smiling at me. I turned my head when I noticed Evan staring at me weirdly.

"Evan?" I said, hesitantly. "You okay?"

"Yep," he said, popping the "p", trying to sound okay. "Actually, no. I'm not."

I gasped as he pulled me back into a hug. I laughed as I wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered, not pulling out of the hug. "I know it hasn't been easy on you and there were many times you wanted to give up. But you never did and it finally paid off. Out of all my patients, I've helped at the center, you're the one I'm most proud of."

He finally pulled out of the hug and reached up, catching a tear with his thumb. "I shouldn't say this but, since you're leaving the day after tomorrow, I'm gonna say it away," he smirked. "I love you, Della."

"I love you too, Evan." I laughed, another tear sliding down my cheek.

This time, I was the one who initiated the hug. He gently squeezed me before letting me go. He pulled out of the hug, his hands still on my arms as he studied me. His eyes drifted to Dylan behind us. I watched as he walked over and shook his hand.

"You take care of her," Evan threatened. "You hear me? If I find out you broke her heart, I will hunt you down and kick your ass."

"Evan," I sighed, laughing slightly.

"Don't worry," Dylan said, glancing at me before turning his attention back to Evan. "I'll take good care of her. I promise."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Evan said, finally letting go of Dylan's hand. Once Evan wasn't holding him captive, I walked over to Dylan and wrapped my arm around his waist.

"Before you leave Sunday, I want you to come to say goodbye to me," Evan said, turning towards me. "You better not leave without saying bye to me."

I let out a small laugh as I smiled at him. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * * * *

Saturday morning, my mom helped me finish packing. After she left, I went to lunch with Evan where we talked about my progress and his next patient. I smiled as he walked me back to my room for the last time. We stopped outside my door, neither one of us saying anything but neither one of us reaching for the doorknob.

I looked over at him and gathered my courage. "Evan?" I said softer than I meant to.

"Yeah," he said looking at me. "What's up, kiddo?"

"I just wanted to say thank you. I wouldn't have gotten better if it wasn't for you. You were one of the only people who didn't give up on me. Even through all my refuses to communicate, my eye rolls, my obvious disobeying your suggestions, you stuck by me. Through all of it. Thank you."

Evan smiled as he pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as he rubbed my back, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You're welcome," he whispered. He pulled out of the hug, slightly rubbing my arms. "If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, just give me a call."

"I will," I smiled as he reached up and caught a tear that had fallen.

"Get some rest. You got a big day of moving ahead of you." He smiled. "After your date with Dylan," he added, a smirk forming on his lips. I tried to ignore the blush rising up my cheeks as he sent me a knowing look.

"You really like him, don't you?" He chuckled.

"Yeah," I nodded. "In fact. . . I think I'm in love with him."

Suddenly, Evan's eyes filled with tears. "What?" I asked when I saw the way he was looking at me.

"It's just," he sighed. "You know how I think of you as my little sister."

I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "It's just. . . Watching you grow, not just physically but. . . You let someone in. Deeper than how far you let Dr. Hailey and me in. You fell in love and I. . . I couldn't be prouder."

I laughed as he pulled me back into his chest, hugging me tightly. "I know I should let you go," he sighed, not pulling out of the hug. He held onto me for a few more seconds before finally letting me go.

"Thank you," I said before I could stop myself. "I feel like I can't say that enough."

He laughed as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek. "Now that you have your life back, I want you to go and live it. I know that the center and the accident took a lot of time and energy but I don't want anything holding you back from living the life you deserve. Whether that life is with Dylan or with another boy you meet somewhere else, just promise me you'll live."

"I will," I smiled, trying to stop my eyes from watering. With his hand still on my cheek, he pulled me in and kissed my forehead.

"Proud of you, kiddo."

* * * * *

I looked at myself in the mirror, smiling when I noticed the bags under my eyes were gone, I didn't look like I was starving myself, and the scars on my neck were even going away. I fixed my dress before turning around to my almost empty room.

I didn't have much stuff to begin with. Mostly clothes, my computer, some random things in my desk, textbooks, a few pictures of my family. I didn't really understand why my parents insisted on hiring movers considering between the five of us, and maybe Dylan and Evan, we could've all done it in two or three trips easily.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard a knock on the door. I grabbed my purse, putting my phone into it as I walked over and opened the door. A smile instantly spread on Dylan's lips when he saw me.

"Wow," he said under his breath. "You look beautiful."

"You always say that," I blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Because it's always true," he smirked as he stepped forward and grabbed my waist, pulling me into his chest. He didn't hesitate to lean down and press his lips to mine. I smiled into the kiss as I kissed him back.

He pulled away and whispered, "You ready?"

I bit my lip and nodded. He smiled down at me and grabbed my hand. We were quiet as we walked out to his car. The radio softly played as he drove us to dinner.

He pulled up to the front of the restaurant, slightly smirking when he saw the look of surprise of my face.

"Is this. . . Is this necessary?" I whispered.

"Only the best for my girl," he said as he winked. I blushed as he got out of the car and handed his keys to the guy at the desk. Another valet was about to open my door but Dylan stopped him.

"I got it," I heard him say. He turned towards the door and smirked when he saw me watching him. He sent me a wink as he opened the door for me. I bit my lip as he grabbed my hand and helped me out of his car.

As we walked into the restaurant, I noticed him a little jumpy. "You okay?" I asked as he walked in and let out the breath he was holding.

"Yeah," he sighed. He sent me a look before saying, "I just. . . I was worried that the paparazzi would find us again and ruin tonight."

I pulled on his hand, turning him towards me. Before he could say anything, I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his. I felt him smile into the kiss as he started moving his lips against mine. I pulled away, lowering off my toes.

"For once in my life, I'm happy. I'm 85% better, I'm finally going back home tomorrow. And you want to know the best thing?" I smiled up at him as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "You, Dylan. You're the best thing in my life right now. You are the first person I have ever fully opened up to. I'm better, I get to go home, and I have you in my life. Nothing could ruin tonight."

"Even creepy dudes taking pictures of us?" He asked, a playful smirk on his face.

"Even creepy dudes hiding in the bushes," I laughed.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I just. . ."

"You're still trying to make up for the accident," I said, my heart dropping into my stomach.

"I'm sorry, Dells. I can't help it. I look at you and see how amazing and beautiful you are and how caring you are and. . . I took your entire life away from you, Della. I took. . . I took your voice."

He stopped talking when he saw the tears in my eyes. "Dylan, please. Stop." I said my voice breaking. "Stop thinking like that. I don't blame you for what happened."

"I don't want you to wake up one day when you realize what I took from you and. . . And hate me."

"I could never hate you, Dylan," I said quickly, my voice breaking.

"Promise?" He said, he said softly.

I reached up and cupped both of his cheeks in my hands. "I promise," I whispered.

He smiled before quickly pulling me into his chest and pressing his lips to mine. We pulled apart when someone cleared their throat.

We laughed when we saw the hostess smiling at us. "Do you two lovebirds have a reservation?"

"We do," Dylan laughed as he grabbed my hand and led me over to the hostess stand.

"Name?" She smiled between the two of us.

"O'Brien," Dylan said, giving my hand a squeeze. We walked over to our table and sat down.

"Dylan?" I said softly. "I hate that you still think about the accident."

"I'm sorry, Della. I'm really trying to forget but. . . I was selfish and did this to you and. . ."

"Dylan," I cut him off. "I love that the accident happened."

"What?" He asked, sort of laughing.

"Yep," I laughed, popping the 'p'. "I'm happy the accident happened. Because of that accident, I have you."

He smiled as he stood up and leaned over the table to press his lips to mine. He sat back down right as the waiter walked over. We spent the rest of dinner, talking about his latest movie and me moving home.

"I bet the boys are excited for you to come home," Dylan laughed.

"They really are," I smiled, looking down at my half-eaten dessert. "They have this long list of what they want to do once I move back home. From movie nights where we sleep in the living room, brother-sister dates, and meeting all their friends."

"They really love you," he sighed. I reached across the table and grabbed his hand.

"They'll learn to love you," I said, sending him a look. "Especially when they realize how happy you make me."

"You think so?"

"I know so," I laughed. "They're protective, but all you have to do is watch a football game with them or play video games with them and they will try and take you away from me."

"They won't," he smirked at me. "But I am determined to get them to like me."

"They will, Dylan. I promise."

* * * * *

Dylan and I walked into the dance studio, a smile immediately forming on my lips when I saw the friends and families dancing together. "Is this okay?" He asked softly.

"This is perfect," I smiled. He smiled back as he led me over to where everyone else was dancing. We spent the rest of the night, dancing to the music.

As we were dancing, there was a weird feeling in my throat. I tried to ignore it, not wanting to ruin this night, but the more we danced, the worse the feeling got.

I tried to cover it up, but Dylan saw right through me. "Della? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, carefully trying to ignore the pain in my throat.

A little bit later, he asked again. "Della," he sighed, pulling me to the side. "What's going on? Every time you swallow, you cringe. Are you. . . Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." My voice failed me as it broke. When it cracked, I started coughing. Once I had calmed down, I looked at my hand. My heart dropped when I saw a few drops of blood.

"Della? Is that. . . Are you. . . That's blood."

I opened and closed my mouth, my eyes watering as I couldn't look up at him.

"Della? How long has your throat been bothering you?"

"A few songs after we got here."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly.

"I didn't want to ruin the date," I whispered, still looking down. I held my breath when he used his pointer finger to lift my chin. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

"You should've told me your throat was bothering you. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything. Especially something that has to do with your throat."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He smiled at me, but his smile quickly fell. "What hurts, babe?"

"Just my throat," I said, my voice breaking as my eyes watered. I tried clearing my throat but it made everything worse. When I started coughing, Dylan instantly led me over to the chairs. He sat me down and started rubbing circles on my back as my coughing slowed down.

"We should get you back to the center," he said gently as he helped me stand up. With his arm tightly wrapped around my waist, he led me out to his car.

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #tfios #rehab love story #RAL

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fluffyvillain · 5 years ago

Text

The Bond

Chapter: 3/?

Summary: Mila is left to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: None

A/N: I just hope that you are enjoying this story.

"Is that you, honey?" Elaine sprawled on a couch, watching a movie.

"Yeah." Henry washed his hands and then joined Elaine, putting her feet on his lap.

"How was dinner and why are you home so early?" She paused the movie she was watching.

"Terrible. She wasn't some old lady, she was something like 25, 30 and," he threw his head back, "she was a complete lunatic."

Elaine set up and caressed his biceps. "What happened?"

"Do you remember that waitress who served us champagne when we entered the room last nigh?"

"Yes."

"Well, it was her."

"But she paid 10.000$ to have dinner with you."

"Exactly and I called her out for that, telling her that she won't get anywhere with me."

"What did she say?"

"That nutcase told me she was my soulmate."

Elaine jumped from the couch. "What?"

"That's absolute bullshit, I didn't feel a thing." He took Elaine's hands in his, kissing them softly. "Even if she were, I wouldn't care. I believe in a right to choose and I chose you."

"I'm not sure that you can even fight that. If it is possible, I will choose you, against anyone. But, what if she is your soulmate?"

"Even better, that would mean that soulmate bond is nothing compared to love I feel for you." He pulled on his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "I love you so much, you don't have to worry about anything."

"I love you too, but..."

"No, buts. It turned out that she owned the restaurant where we had dinner and that means that she was crazy enough to choose to work as a waitress only so that she could meet me. I told you, she's insane."

When Mila finished a half bottle of wine, she figured she shouldn't be alone. She called her best friend whom she has known since kindergarten. "Hey, Ruth, what are you doing?"

"Nothing really, what's happening? You sound a bit off."

"Can you and Blake come over? I have something to tell you."

"Sure, we'll be there soon."

Mila managed to finish the whole bottle by the time her friends arrived. She welcomed them, hugging both of them at once. "My frieends," she kissed Blake on the cheek first and then she kissed Ruth. "Two soulmates who found each other in high school, that must be wonderful."

"What's wrong, Mila?" Blake was shocked to see her in such a state, Ruth, on the other hand witnessed a few such moments, mostly when she missed her parents.

"Only everything, my darlings. How about you go sit by the pool while I get us some drinks."

"Okay." Two spouses and soulmates followed Mila with their eyes until she turned to the kitchen. They made themselves comfortable and waited for her to come back.

She came back, holding three glasses and a bottle of vodka and Baileys. She pored Baileys for Ruth and vodka for Blake and herself. Both of her friends waited for her to say something. "I found my soulmate."

"Honey, that's amazing. Finally." Ruth bottomed up Blake's glass of vodka and hugged her friend who was hasn't moved from her chair.

"But, buuuut, listen to this. He didn't find me."

Ruth returned to her seat. "What do you mean? I've heard that some people never meet their soulmate, but not this."

"That's a better option, trust me. I think that I'm going to explode, or better yet, implode. I did some online research before I called you, there have been approximately a hundred documented cases like mine. In some case, it was sort of delayed recognition, about 7%. After some time, their soulmate bonded with them after some major even in their life, like they needed to wait for something. For the rest, well, nothing, things remained the same for them." She downed her second glass of vodka, pouring the third one.

"So, there's a chance that you will bond eventually?" Blake tried to calm her down, even though he knew chances were slim.

"No, nope. I bid on a charity auction to have dinner with him, only to have him call me psycho and that he already loves someone. Which I've freaking felt every second since I first saw him. You two know what it's like to feel each other, only in my case, I'm the only one with the feeling." Third and fourth glass were gone too.

"Who is he? Do we know him?" Ruth moved to sit closer to her friend, drawing soothing patterns on her shoulder.

"Henry Cavill." There went the fifth one.

"Shit." Blake couldn't bite his tongue and his wife shot him a death glare. He also bottomed up a glass of vodka.

Ruth and Blake stayed with Mila until 2AM and they would've stayed the whole night if they didn't have to go to work in the morning. Mila was wasted, but at least she didn't feel anything anymore. Her friends helped her go to bed, Ruth tried to take off her dress, but she refused, she just jumped on the bed, rolling over duvet, pulling one side with her, wrapping it around herself.

She woke up around 2PM with a nasty headache, feeling thirsty and as soon as she opened her eyes, Henry's feelings kicked in again. Shit. Her hand reached her phone, she was surprised to see a dozen of missed calls and even more messages from Ruth, she wanted to make sure she was okay. Mila called her back, assuring Ruth that she was fine. Once she was done, her bare feet touched the floor, she took of her dress, staying only in her underwear. She grabbed a towel, but instead of going to shower, she went for a swim, just after satisfying her thirst.

She dove in the pool and swam lap after lap, until she could barely keep herself above the water, so she relaxed and started to float with her head under water. She stayed like that until she started to getting dizzy. This could take away the pain. She held her breath until her lungs felt like exploding. What the hell am I even doing? She pulled her head up, taking a deep breath her lungs desperately needed.

Then something inside broke, she got out of the pool and a dam that was holding back her tears cracked, one lonely tear portended the waterfall that followed. She felt hopeless and helpless, she couldn't see any way out. She cried in her towel for quite a while, staining it with makeup she didn't take off last night. She vaguely remembered feeling desperate like this when she was a child, her aunt and uncle used to take to therapies to help her cope. That's when she decided to try to do it now too, maybe someone could help her.

She took a long hot shower, desperately trying to block Henry out of her mind and soul. Efforts put in by her were in vain. When she was done, she opened her laptop, going through same web pages she read regarding her situation, trying to find any mentions of any kind of a therapist. With a bit of luck, she found one rather fast. She Googled his name and found his contact.

She punched in his number right away and doctor's assistant picked up, she explained to her that she couldn't make an appointment since the doctor lived across the country, but she wanted to have sessions via Skype. The assistant turned her down, explaining that doctor didn't work that way, but she was desperate. She explained her situation and the assistant called doctor right away, knowing how interested the doctor was in this matter, so Mila's call was soon transferred.

"Helo, Mila. I'm doctor Leitmann, my assistant explained your situation. In your case, I will make an exception and we can do therapy over Skype."

"Thank you, doctor, I feel like I'm going out of my mind."

"Close your eyes and take deep breaths, think about your favorite place, that's the best advise I can give you for now. Sort of like meditation. Does this time tomorrow work for you?"

"Thank you. Yes, that will be perfect."

#henry cavill #henry cavill/oc #soulmates au

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 4 years ago

Text

as usual, an unrealistic list of things I’d really like to get done over the three-day weekend, which is not super likely to go well considering I’m posting this at 5 fucking p.m. but whatever:

gaming-related

I have exactly a month left on my (so far unused, whoops) PC Game Pass subscription, so I need to go over my wish list again and identify

which games have achievements

each game’s average playtime so I can prioritize

which ones interest me the most (emphasis on spooky games because...it’s spooky season)

try Fallout 76 once it finally finishes downloading, because I played the free weekend on Steam before and this is Microsoft, and...I think my character should just be on their servers but I don’t actually know hahahaha yeah that super didn’t work, maybe in a week when our billing cycle restarts I’ll try redownloading and reinstalling it, and anyway I did download and test a couple other Game Pass games

cancel my current SWTOR subscription so I’m not still paying for that while focusing on Game Pass games

play one of a few Flash games on my to-play list, if there’s something short

misc/housekeeping

check out my current backup situation and see how hard it would be to modify, I mean at some point I have got to set up an actual system but for some reason that’s intimidating so if what I currently have is at all usable, I should add to it

and then verify my drivers. I don’t know what’s wrong with my PC and I’m really not sure how to figure that out but since Memtest86 ran for three fucking hours and came back clear, it seems like this is the next major step in the troubleshooting process okay I actually didn’t do this but I did try some other things that also didn’t work

finish claiming all the Black Panther comics

a tiny bit of room cleaning? maybe?? I actually already did a very tiny bit, and this is something (one of...many things) I could do while on a call with friends, which is also in my plans

open a couple packages from one of said friends, which keen-eyed readers might note was in a to-do list ages ago oops

check Tumblr drafts

work on modifying or fixing some masks that currently aren’t working well

send an email that’s been on my to-do list for...a while

actually another email would be a good one too

keep trying to get Hazy to learn that letting people handle her paws results in good treats, so we can make an appointment for a Petco nail trim (and ideally clip them ourselves, sometimes)

ah fuck I still need to finish my will

creative

mildly edit the short fic I posted a few days ago, give it a title, and toss it on AO3

as always, some typing would be really really good

so would...some writing...

make some more potion bottles with, uh, random stuff I’ve collected on recent walks around the neighborhood (other potion bottles with other random ideas I’ve had wouldn’t be a bad idea either...and I would like to try one of the Youtube tutorials I found for making tiny hourglasses, but I guess that’s probably not a priority)

do a little reorganizing in my giant to-do lists for a) 1/6-scale projects and b) lyrics for titles

doing more research on parts for a 1/6 female Loki is really not urgent but...I might want to...and some things are on sale right now...

repair Tiny Loki’s tiny mask

rewrite my paper list of prioritized projects, which I needed to do anyway, but now I’ve also lost the original and that’s very annoying (also make a pocket for it in my notebook so this is less likely to happen again)

make designs for a few new Pride Cap shields, maybe? it really would not take long to make just a few, and now is when I should be adding stuff to Etsy if I have any hope of like...holiday sales

for that matter, now would be an extremely good time to at least start planning what kinds of holiday-specific things (and/or other new listings) I might be able to make in time to list them on Etsy

mental health

write up a post for the ADHD Reddit and maybe other related places

experiment with Notion and Airtable as organizational options

research some bullet-journal layouts to see if anything seems like it would work for me

in general, spend some time just kind of...brainstorming the type of system that would be useful for me in keeping my shit together, so I have a better idea of what I’m looking for (also probably helpful to list like...the big problems I’m trying to fix)

see if Penzu seems like a good option for a keeping-my-shit-together strategy I have in mind from my latest therapy session, and if not, do a little research on other journal-type possibilities

shopping I probably shouldn’t be doing

make a Michaels order tomorrow when both coupons will be active, because...there are some Halloween things that are somehow already sold out at the nearest store but I still want them...and they’re available at the store all the way across town...so...

possibly go to an estate sale benefiting the rescue group where we got Scully and Hazy, which is also all the way over on the other side of town but if I’m going over there anyway, I might as well

some stuff in my Etsy cart that I don’t want to miss

ditto eBay, I think mostly in my cart but also check watch list

AliExpress is also having some sales and yes there are more tiny things I want to buy for Loki’s arcane workshop, shut up (but also if I’m going to buy another Hot Toys body, this time for Thor, I gotta...take some measurements)

politics

call legislators

I really don’t know why I bother but I’ve found a bunch more articles recently that I’d like to throw on Facebook

for that matter at some point I’m probably just going to do a Facebook post like “hey, if you care about me at all, please consider voting Biden,” which also probably won’t make a difference but like...there’s a tiny chance it might

actually write those Sierra Club letters to voters that I meant to do like...two weeks ago...and maybe also some postcards, idk

maybe go to a thing Monday afternoon

also maybe just like...look through my links and folders to see who’s doing textbanking? like I don’t necessarily have to do any of it this weekend, just figure out what’s available?

........hmm this is all a terrible idea, probably, in part because my brain is looking at this absurdly long list and still going “oh shit, oh fuck, we’re forgetting something major aren’t we!!!”

#for future reference #bad adult #why...am i Like This

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nattikay · 5 years ago

Text

So I don’t typically like making personal posts of this type, as I generally come here to escape all that and relax, but at this point I’m just not really sure where else to go with it, all things considered.

Anyways...I’ve been...stressed lately. No, coronavirus isn’t the root cause of it, but it certainly ain’t helping (as I will explain later).

So the first thing I guess...is my younger sister’s wedding tomorrow. To explain why this is a stressor I first have to reveal a bit about myself, a little deeper than I am usually comfortable doing on the internet, and I know it’s ultimately gonna make me sound like...kinda a selfish butthole.

So...I’ve always greatly valued the concept of marriage and family. It’s a value I hold very dear, I always have, and I’ve always wanted to one day get married and have kids of my own. However, I’ve also always struggled hugely with social anxiety, for pretty much as long as I can remember, and needless to say dating does not come easily to me.

For a while, that was ok because I had other goals to work towards in the meantime...getting into my college of choice...getting into their animation program...doing well in my classes...graduating...getting a job...but now I’ve done all those things, and getting married would be the natural next step in life.

...if I could actually fall in love with someone.

So I’m stuck. I feel like I’m just treading water, or running in circles. I feel like I can’t progress and it’s scary. But progressing itself, going out and meeting people, opening myself up like that--is also scary. It’s like I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. A lose-lose situation.

I did have a sort-of boyfriend towards the end of college, but then I graduated and moved away and, well...things are a bit complicated. I still chat with him online now and then, but we only see each other in-person maybe once or twice a year for conventions. And even though we’re still on good terms in a friendly sorta way, given the time and distance I’m not sure whether or not he’s still interested in pursuing that type of relationship with me, nor am I sure how to bring it up without making him feel awkward.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I should’ve stayed in Utah after I graduated, found a job there and been able to spend more time with him...but I didn’t...and now a part of me feels like...I dunno....like I missed my chance?

But...all of that’s a tangent...it’s not the only issue...

So anyways...like I said...this is my younger sister’s wedding. For those who don’t know, I’m the oldest sibling in my family. Maybe I wouldn’t feel as stressed if my sister were older than me. But as it is...this is the first time in my life that I haven’t been first to a major life event. And yes, I know, I know it’s not a race, it’s not a competition, etc. etc. etc....I know. But...it’s a reminder.

I’m stuck, and now I’m being “surpassed” and I’m constantly being reminded.

And things seemed to work out so easily for her too. She met this guy less than a year ago and they’re absolutely head-over-heels obsessed with each other.

and I don’t

understand

that?

I mean, her fiancé’s a good guy don’t get me wrong, and they’re really happy together and I’m glad of that, but at the same time...watching how they are with each other, how they interact...I don’t...know that I’ve ever felt that? And in my head, I wish I could, it seems like it’d be so nice but...

guys, sometimes I feel like I’m broken.

I feel like I don’t have that capacity to get so excited over a real person the way my sister and her fiancé are about each other.

Not romantically. Not even platonically.

Except...not quite. I do have some capacity to be all giddy. But...it only ever seems to happen with fictional characters, animals, or plushies.

Never real people. Never real relationships.

and I don’t

understand

why

And quite frankly, I’m terrified, absolutely terrified that that’ll lead me to being forever alone

And yes, I know that some people are perfectly content to live their lives single, and that’s fine and you do you and I’m not gonna judge you or say you’re invalid or whatever; I don’t believe that. But...I don’t think I’m one of those people. Marriage and family is something I hold too dear to my heart to just give up on the idea of having my own.

But...like I said...reminders.

Reminders, reminders, and reminders of one of my weaknesses, one of my struggles, of a concept that utterly frightens me and I have to be around it constantly right now. And when I’m with other people, I have to do it with a smile.

I love my sister, don’t get me wrong. And like I said, her fiancé’s a good guy. I’m glad they’re happy. I don’t want to ruin that for them with my selfish struggles. Just because I’m unhappy right now doesn’t mean I have to drag them down with me. They deserve to have a good time.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not struggling.

So...there. That’s why my sister’s wedding is a stressor for me.

On top of all that...the wedding was supposed to be in April, in Utah. But because of the coronavirus shutdowns, we’ve had to to some last-minute rearrangements, and now it’s tomorrow here in Alabama. This has been extremely stressful on my mom, who really put a lot of dedication into the wedding planning and is bummed that it didn’t work out. She’s been particularly frazzled this past week, constantly scrambling to get all the rearrangements taken care of and terrified that more shutdowns with mess it all up again.

This is why I’m making this post here. Usually I would talk to my mom, or my therapist...but I don’t have another therapy appointment for a few weeks (if it hasn’t been cancelled for the virus) and my mom, well...she has enough of her own problems to deal with right now. I don’t want to burden her with mine.

And then there’s the situation at work. With the whole social distancing thing going on they’re trying to get as many people set up to work remotely as possible. Unfortunately, because of what I do and the way our network works, this entails bringing home my entire computer setup, which is a hassle in itself on merely a physical level. I stuck it out coming into the office longer than most of my coworkers, but my mom texted me today saying that they’re now talking about shutting down all “non-essential” businesses so if I wanted to work at all over the next little bit and not eat up vacation hours I should just bite the bullet and move my setup home. So I did.

But now there’s another potential problem. I’ve got all the hardware and it should work just fine...but I also need internet connectivity in order to access our pipeline. As we were packing up my stuff, my coworker mentioned that he wasn’t actually sure if the computers had wifi capabilities and that I might have to plug it in directly...which could be a problem, because the internet connection is on the other side of the house from where I’d be working, and even if I moved my setup to that room I’m pretty sure I’d have to unplug the router in order to plug in this computer and then everyone else would lose their wifi...which would really suck with all of us being stuck at home right now, and would be especially detrimental to my dad who is also working from home right now and needs the wifi.

Granted, I haven’t actually tried to hook it up just yet, so who knows, I might just get lucky and it’ll have wifi capabilities after all...but I don’t know for sure yet.

I mentioned this issue to my mom when I got home today, mostly just to warn her that I might have to make some weird arrangements like a long extensions cord or something (if it doesn’t in fact have wifi). Alas, that turned out to be a mistake...like I said, my mom’s already really stressed with the wedding stuff and a potential work computer problem just added fuel to the fire and then she started stressing about that too even though it’s not really a thing she needs to be worrying about, it’s my problem to figure out...but nonetheless I felt pretty guilty for making her feel even more stressed that she already was.

I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t get my work computer connected at home. I guess just bring it back to the office...but that’s assuming people with still be allowed in the building at all come next week. I just...I dunno man. I don’t know.

All this mess has led to me starting to experience certain anxiety symptoms that I haven’t really dealt with since I first went on my medication a few years ago, which means the stress is getting bad enough to...override the meds a bit. I guess. idk, the symptoms haven’t been too severe but the fact that they’re there at all...hng.

If you made it through this whole mess, congrats, I’m impressed

tl;dr

everything’s a mess, everyone’s stressed, I have anxiety and I don’t know who to talk to

not really looking for advice so much as just somewhere to vent and maybe some comfort, idk

Thanks for your time

-NattiKay

#just a really big vent #if you actually get through the whole thing...I'm impressed #but don't feel obligated to #just trying to get some things off my chest I guess #idk #just don't really know where to turn right now #:/

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years ago

Text

no more math and history, summer time has set us free 3/?

AO3 link

First session revs up.

Arya’s schedule gives her Thursdays and Saturdays off. On Thursdays Ygritte handles the stables by herself, and there are no riding lessons given on Saturdays.

The first Thursday, Arya spends the morning dropping her clothes off at the camp laundry, and then putting them away when they’re done. Since half her clothes are missing their name labels, she finds it easier just to wait around until they’re done rather than risking someone else getting her knickers.

After lunch, Arya decides to take a step into the drama barn and see what Sansa’s up to this summer.

The drama barn is actually a barn, though there are no stalls and no animals. A raised stage takes up most of the space, the lights and prop and costume storage up in the haylofts. When they put on the end of session show, the doors are opened and the audience sits outside under the stars.

Sansa had told her the second night at camp that the first session they were putting on Alice in Wonderland, the second the Wizard of Oz and lastly Peter Pan. Arya always liked watching the shows, and not just because the mass overrepresentation of girls in the drama program always led to some interesting cross-casting.

Right now, Sansa and Margaery are passing around scripts to this group of campers. Most of the campers are young enough they're basically yelling their lines, making the wit sound utterly goofy. The CIT is a blonde girl, who at closer inspection, Arya realizes is Joffrey’s sister Myrcella.

Arya asks about her after the campers start to disperse.

“Bran ran into her a few days ago,” Sansa admits.

“Did she say anything about…” Arya raises an eyebrow, hoping that says enough.

Sansa’s expression turns sour.

“Her and Tommen live with their uncle now. Joffrey’s going to trial in a few months because right after he turned eighteen he got drunk and plowed his car into a sidewalk, killing two people. Their mother went on a series of very public interviews about how it wasn’t his fault, but only revealed to the rest of the world how bad her drinking problem is…”

Arya’s gaze remains steady.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say I told you so.”

Sansa sniffs and shakes her head.

“You don’t have to, I should have known. I should have seen, even his own brother and sister didn’t like him.”

Arya pulls herself onto a crate of masks and looks Sansa in the eye.

“And at least your taste has improved since then.”

Sansa hadn’t had time to date much in the last few years, but the ones Arya had met seemed decent enough. Right now, Sansa’s gaze is aimed across the barn to where Margaery is checking over the Alice in Wonderland costumes. They’re mostly over-large foam headed animal costumes, suitable for children of many sizes, but there are a few that look more like typical clothing. She holds up the Queen of Hearts costume, a long filmy red thing.

“Is that your costume?”

Sansa nods, smiling, eyes still trailed on Margaery.

“I have to, I’m the only one tall enough to wear it. Sometimes if we’re unlucky it ends up being a boy“

Her eyes stay, and Arya’s follow. Margaery is lovely, golden chestnut curls, a huge red smile, the kind of body that was the envy of other girls.

Including Sansa, it seemed.

Arya’s voice softens.

“Are you still not comfortable with it?”

Sansa ducks her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Coming out to people outside the family.”

Sansa’s eyes fall closed. Arya had been the first person she had told when she had come to the realization that she was bisexual. It was still one of Arya’s proudest moments, that her sister trusted her that much. The other siblings had been similarly easy, but Sansa had been so frightened to tell their Mum, certain that with her old-fashioned ways, she would disapprove.

She’d never had the chance to find out.

Figuring this was as good a time as any to ask her, Arya wonders aloud.

“How did you first know anyway?”

Sansa gives her a look that’s half withering. Arya laughs, maybe it was a stupid question.

“How did you know you were straight?”

Arya shrugs, kicking her feet, the crate she’s sitting on is large enough that they dangle.

“I don’t know. Contrary to popular opinion, I’ve always liked boys. I’ve never fawned or made a fool of myself around them because I never thought they deserved that much extra thought. I still remember Mum fretting, wondering when I would start doing my hair and going out all the time like I was supposed to.“

Arya’s stomach drops again. She’d never told Sansa why Mum’s opinions on that specific topic was such a sore spot for her.

Sansa smiles.

“I’m not sure even Mum would know what to make of you spending so much time with the lifeguard here.”

Arya feels her neck turn pink. Sansa nods knowingly.

“Even back then I knew. You were always surrounded by little boys, but you treated him different than you treated them.”

“That’s different,” she insists, “I do like Gendry, but he’s my friend first. We’ve been friends for a long time...and a lot has happened since we’ve seen each other last time.”

Sansa nods.

“A lot has happened. I guess that’s one of the good things about camp. Gives you time to relax and reflect, remember what’s actually important.”

Arya had never thought about it like that, but it was the truth. Most children at camp didn’t know anyone else, they came without siblings or family friends, unlike Arya who always had a few people she knew here. They could be whoever they wanted to be for the summer.

Morning activities are over after that, so Arya and Sansa walk to the mess hall for lunch.

Lunch also means mail call, and Sansa squeals when they’ve got a letter from Robb, tearing it open before Arya can read a single word,

“He says work is going fine, though they’re still undoing so much of the mess Robert left us in,” Sansa starts, “He says the dogs are doing well too.”

Arya grins. Several years before, one of their father’s friends had a litter of puppies, one for each of Arya and her siblings, and Jon as well to have one. The enormous fluffy malamute mixes had run free on the Stark’s, frolicking in the snow come each winter. Lady had died early, and Nymeria had run away, but Arya still loved watching them all the others run about.

“He says Ghost misses Jon dearly, and lets us know he hasn’t heard from him either.”

Sansa bites her lip at the next lines.

“He also says he feels a million years old going into work every day...and tells us he wants to hear every single detail so he can pretend he got to come here this summer too.”

Arya frowns at this. It’s not fair that Robb had to grow up so fast just because he was the oldest, and the only one who could be legally responsible for the rest of them. She didn’t think her and Sansa were too much stress on him, but between Bran’s medical appointments and therapy and keeping Rickon in school and from actually running wild, she understands how it could wear him down.

Speaking of Rickon, after lunch is finished, Brienne approaches Arya.

“Can you come with me for a few minutes? It’s nothing serious, I was just hoping for your assistance.”

She leads Arya away, and as soon as they turn up the hill, she realizes they're going towards the infirmary. Gods know she spent enough time there as a camper, covered in bumps and bruises.

“Rickon got into a fight with another boy on the sports field when his cabin and one of the girls cabin’s were playing kickball. Rather than immediately punish the both of them for fighting, I was hoping you could get the story out of your brother before I make my decision.”

Arya sighs deeply. This is a role she often plays at home.

When she enters, she expects far worse than what she sees. Rickon’s hair is a mess and he has a splint on one wrist and a couple of scrapes on one cheek.

“How’s the other one look?” Arya asks, sitting down beside him.

Rickon’s silent. It’s a strange look on him. From faraway an unfamiliar person might even expect an angelic child with his red curls. His siblings knew better, and had resisted for years letting him off easy just because, at thirteen, he was the youngest of them.

“We were just talking about the zombie game at the end of session. I was telling how you all always talked about how they picked one person to be the zombie and try and infect the others. One of them started laughing and saying there wouldn’t even be a contest being that we had a real zombie here already.”

Arya must look confused, so he continues.

“Couple of the guys have been making fun of the other cabin’s CIT since we got here. The girl with the scarred face?”

Arya’s heart sinks.

“So you punched him?”

Rickon nods, his head still downcast. Arya sighs.

“Rickon,” she starts, “I’m not angry at you for defending someone being teased...but you can’t just punch people. Tell a counselor, someone who has actual power to punish that person who’s being mean.”

She ruffles his curls.

“But I will tell Brienne what happened and that both of you need be put on KP for the rest of session, but that she should keep an open ear out for anyone else bullying Shireen.”

Rickon nods, knowing that’s fair. And Arya pats his hair again. A week’s worth of emptying trash and doing dishes is worth it for standing up to a bully.

Saturdays are a different sort of day off. There are fewer cabin activities on weekends. Instead there are campfire breakfasts, beach parties, nature hikes and camp-wide tournaments. Tomorrow, Arya and Ygritte are set to be leading a trail ride through part of Mistwood, so Arya plans to spend her day off relaxing as much as possible.

Which is why she has to be convinced when Gendry tries to convince her to go on a short hike.

“I already had Hot Pie do us up a couple of sack lunches. I found something last year that I wanted to show you!”

And in the end, a hike is hardly the worst way to spend a free day.

Arya loves the forest, the places where the trees and wild things rule. There are cedars and hemlocks and tall, tall redwoods.

They’ve only been on the trail maybe twenty minutes when Arya spots a weirwood.

“I didn’t know these grow this far south!” she exclaims, examining the blood red sap dripping from it’s ancient face. She’s never spoken too much of her affinity for her father’s faith, the faith of her home in the north.

“There’s not a lot of them, but there are some,” Gendry tells her, “One year after you left, the counselor sent us on a scavenger hunt to find as many of them as we could when he took us on a nature hike.”

Further into the woods, the morning fog still lingers, telling Arya they must be closer to the coast than she had thought.

Eventually, they reach the edge of a gorge, before a sheer drop into a stream below. The ground smooths out into rock.

“What am I looking for?”

Gendry shushes her, sitting cross-legged on the ground pointing to a spot across the gorge where the ground slopes down into rock along the edge of the creek. Arya sits beside him, somewhat reluctantly.

They’ve been sitting for maybe half an hour, They’ve both opened Hot Pie’s lunches, peanut butter and jelly with apples, and munch on them quietly.

It’s close to noon when there’s movement below in the rock. The whole of Mistwood is full of caves, though counselors have never let the campers explore as much as they would have liked, citing the potential for there to be wild animals living in the caves.

“Oh!” Arya exclaims when the movement is revealed to be a wolf, huge and dark gray, leaving the cave to drink from the stream, blinking up at the sky with his huge blue eyes.

“I didn’t know wolves lived in the Stormlands, or anywhere in the south, for that matter” she says.

“There have been rumours of wolves in the woods here for generations. There’s a story about a northern girl who came here in the old days to marry a lover, and not only survived, but, thrived despite that old bit of advice that northerners don’t do well south of the Neck,”

Arya smiles and snorts. Advice like that always sounded ridiculously old fashioned to her, not to mention that so much of the Neck had been drained years ago for development, aside from some bits protected by the parks and forest services. Without it, defining the line between north and south was much more difficult.

“They called her the Wolf Queen, and it seems like that’s where they assumed the stories came from, until about five years ago, some wildlife biology guys working out here found this pack.”

They sit and watch the wolf until he returns to his den. Wolves come out to hunt at dusk usually, this is like the middle of the night for her. Arya finishes up her sandwich, licks her fingers and rolls the trash up to tuck in her pocket. She’s spread her hoodie on the ground and is laying on her stomach, gazing across the gorge.

The day is pleasant, not too hot, and with no one else around, Arya finds herself feeling comfortable, maybe a bit too much. Gendry’s sitting with his back against a tree, and she crooks her head over her shoulder looking at him.

Softly, her lips open and her words tumble out.

“Last year, right before I turned sixteen, Mum and Bran were in an accident. A drunk driver went over the median and hit the car head on.”

Her words slow, and she ducks her head back against the rock, so she can’t see Gendry’s face.

“Bran was thrown from the wreckage, he collided against a metal railing on the shoulder. Fractured his spine. Pretty low down, the doctors kept saying he was really lucky, and how much worse it could have been. Great joy that was to a boy who had just found out he would probably never walk again…”

Arya cringes, remembering the conversations with the doctors and physical therapists, how they had described that with therapy, Bran would regain independent control of almost all of his bodily functions and other ADLs. There were all sorts of things in that conversation she hadn’t wanted to ever have to consider about her little brother, but now had to, they all had to now…

“Mum was dead on the scene.”

Arya feels tears prick at her eyes, and she wipes them away. She’s not looking at Gendry, doesn’t have to. She can imagine his face contorting.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

Arya feels warmth beside her, and turns her head enough to see Gendry stretched on the rock beside her, face up.

“How are- are you- are you all still living at home?”

Arya’s stomach flips when she realizes what he’s talking about.

“Robb had already turned eighteen. He was already interning at Dad’s company, so he was able to petition to become our legal guardian.”

Arya cringes again, thinking of the mess Robb and Mum said that Robert Baratheon left the company in after Dad’s death.

“Jon joined the air force as soon as he turned of age so we would get familial benefits from it.”

Gendry lays on his back, his breathing even, as he thinks on her words.

“I can remember everything from when my mum died,” he admits, “I was eight. I remember walking home from playing football at the park after school and there were people outside the flat, and a policeman told me to gather my things in a bin bag and come with him.”

Arya winces. She remembers Gendry telling her about the bin bags when they were younger, how it was all he had to move his clothes and school things and toys from place to place.

“It wasn’t until even three months later that I even learned what happened. That her neighbor had seen her collapse while watering the yard and called the ambulance. She’d died of a brain aneurysm, no one could have done anything.”

Arya rolls on one side to watch his face. The sun shines off his still fairly pale face.

“Do you-” she starts off, stuttering, “Do you constantly remember the last thing you said to her?”

Gendry nods.

“That morning before school, I complained we were out of my favorite cereal. Then I left for the bus.”

It’s petty, she thinks, a petty and childish set of last words. She still thinks hers were far worse.

“You turned eighteen in May,” she changes the subject, “Is your current foster dad kicking you out?”

Gendry smiles, genuinely.

“No. Mr. Davos was the one who impressed on me how bad the outcomes often are for kids who just age out of foster care instead of being adopted. He hounds me all the time, makes sure I stay in school. No one ever really did that before.”

Arya thinks. She knows a lot of the charitable work Mum had organized with the church and for PR events at the company had involved foster children. She’d never gotten involved, maybe she should have.

“He’s been wonderful to me...these three years were more than I had ever thought I would get as a kid. And I can’t imagine how those three years have been for Shireen…”

His voice trails off, and Arya thinks it’s a good enough time to bring it up.

“Rickon got into a fight the other day, apparently some of the kids have started telling Shireen she has to play the camp zombie.”

Gendry’s jaw sets. It is remarkable, Arya thinks, that his anger is so much quieter than it used to be.

“She told me last night that some of the girls have taken to calling her the Bitch.”

Arya’s shocked.

“Because-”

“Because her burns make her look like the Hound.”

Arya’s stomach twists again.

“I still can’t believe he let that name catch on.”

Her voice is quieter when she continues.

“They are burns then? I wasn’t sure.”

Gendry inhales roughly.

“Yes, they are burns. What happened to her, her story...it’s very different than mine, but it’s worse. I won’t tell you the rest of the story, I-”

His gaze moves from her face to his feet.

“It’s not my story to tell. If she’s with us one of these days, and tells me it’s okay, I can tell you, but not otherwise.”

Arya nods in agreement. The noontime sun has begun to wane, and the afternoon breeze begins to drift in from the sea of Dorne and makes the air more comfortable.

She turns her head over her shoulder again, and smiles.

“Thank you for showing me the wolves...It’s getting a little late though,” she says, “We should be getting back to camp.”

Gendry nods, pulling himself into a sitting position before standing. He offers Arya his hand to pull her to her own feet.

They hold hands the entire hike back to camp. Gendry runs his thumb along the inside of Arya’s wrist, and she hopes he can’t feel how much her heart is thrumming.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #summer camp au #fic

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rich50g-blog · 4 years ago

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Starting anew

Hi i am Richard i was married for over 30 years to a non loving woman, a month ago i decided to find a loving woman for the rest of my life. I am 67 so maybe not impossible thing to accomplish but will be difficult to find someone who would love an old man, I am not wealthy by any means i will tell why that matters later, I also moved to Kingwood Texas i worked here 30 years ago and loved all the trees and trails for biking and walking. New apartment took me a while to get settled in, when i first got here i started having some problems with my left knee and hip, my hip was pain my knee was weakness so much so if i put all my weight on it i would fall down, I know how to fall from past experiences with weak ankles, i mostly scrape a knee nothing too serious. So I have also signed up for several dating sights some are worthless some are ok, some attract scammers who love old guys to try and weasel money from them, that happened to me 8 times before i stopped using the site., then i tried Zoosk, and was attracting all the wrong woman i thought, mostly gray haired old sad ladies, I realize i am old gray haired old sad man but thought i could get someone a little younger and intelligent. i next joined Anastasia-date, mostly Ukraine with some Russian ladies thrown in, most liked my age and my pictures, so that worked out pretty well, i would do a search for a particular city, and height of the lady, nothing else was added, I am 6′2″ so liked taller ladies 5′8 and up. that was easy there are a lot of tall slavis women, then after a couple of chats i learned to search ladies with no kids, I have had my kids did not need anymore, i also looked for ladies over 35 because the ones under that all wanted babies or family. I have two grown daughters and after my youngest was born i had not one but two Vasectomy’s which was fun no. hehe So my search contained height, no kids, over 35, and i added different levels of English, I found out Intermediate was not good either the ladies did not understand a word i said or typed, they had to use a translator program so then i would add Advanced or fluent to my search, the advanced ladies knew moer English and understood me pretty much. So the only problem i noticed with the women here was the men there, every one mentioned how selfish the men were there and only wanted sex and no relationship, So i was getting more and more information into what these ladies wanted in a man and not wanted. So I fit my profile to feel their wants and needs, Wow I started to get some beautiful, intelligent women who preferred older men, they trust them not to be selfish, and conceded like most not all slavic men. I will not put all of the men there in the category but a lot are, some examples a pretty 30 year old lady with 3 kids from Odessa Ukraine, I mean she is gorgeous, intelligent and dumped by her husband who found a much younger woman, She raised 3 kids so far by herself for 10 years because her husband did not want the responsibility to bother him. What a loser and he has not seen his kids since he left with new girlfriend, ok anyway she is very nice and pretty but finding a lady with 3 kids was not my idea of life, so i told her goodbye, sorry i have to have somethings about the ladies taht i can live with. that was not one of them, you won’t believe the next one, who was a stewardess living in Odessa, what a crazy bitch oh my, oh yea there is something called video chat, not all ladies have it, but this one did, she was pretty and tall ok and she was 30 with not kids again ok. She started stripping I mean to nothing, and playing with herself i was not prodding her to do anything my mouth was open in awe of what was happening, by the way video chat is very expensive. Next this crazy woman starts to talk about her mother, I go ok as she talks more and more about her telling me how pretty she is and stuff, again i know i should have left the chat but i wanted to see what this woman was going to do next, well next made me sick, this whole entire time she was setting me up to have sex with her and her mother, my gosh sorry that is sick to me, so now i have had enough I closed the video chat and blocked her from contacting me again, One thing i was starting to find out was none of the ladies i had talked to wanted to or thought of leaving the site, they said they felt safe, but me thinks that the site programmed them to never leave, because site only makes money if they get men to chat with them, So none of the ladies even mention it when i ask they change the subject. The thing is i came to figure out is this site and most of them do not want the people to ever meet, they make it so hard to meet it is almost impossible too, the women do not realize this or if they do afraid to leave the site because they live in old communist state and they were told to do everything and obey without question. That is why anytime i would ask a lady to leave this site to like Google Hangouts they would say maybe later i still have not made enough money on you yet haha here is another thing all chats are monitored and if you were to type the name of a free site the monitor would dot out what you typed. Again they do not want the girls to meet anyone they lose money if that happens., So I still talk to a couple of ladies just to chat and see how life in their country is.Most of them are still bad, but flights to Europe are opening up. Ukraine still has civil war going on and no body can fly there for obvious reasons they shoot down airliners. for the ladies to get to the area they have to take a bus to Kiev and fly from there, riding the bus through a bad area. So it is not easy, because of Covid I would talk to many ladies because the chance of visiting them was almost impossible because of borders closed.. Ok moving on i had two MRI’s last week and i was given a appointment with a neurosurgeon, they told me i have degenerative disc disease in spin lumbar causing pressure on nerves and spinal stenosis, but i did not understand it could be surgery or physical therapy and med . we will see. Ok while i was looking at the Europe dating site I had found the Asian one mostly Chinese women who are all very beautiful and good wife's they also think older men are better because the young ones they cannot trust, this site is owned and operated by the Europe one with same features, I found here that most of the ladies here do not want babies over 35, so again my search criteria consisted of over 35 at first but i changed that later for another reason. I would also in search add wealthy or rich, just to see how many women turned up, hundreds of not thousands of ladies starting from 19 on up. and again they are looking hard for old guys they can trust. Most were business owners from very rich families. originally i was not in this for money but i got to think why not i am on SSN and a small Pension so heck yes. ok I first got a letter from woman 1 on July 9th, two days later her sister wrote one. Shes lady 2. lady number 1′s letter said she was a banker wanting to invest in the U S and moving their business here, yea what are the odds right? Well when i got her sisters lady number 2 who told me their family where heirs to the Qing Dynasty, i did my research and found that their family is one of the oldest and riches family in China. So wow, this is the arrangement the sisters wanted to make with me, I would marry one of them and the other would be my concubine. What the heck? So now i have to chose between a gorgeous 27 year old or the other sister a beautiful 19 year old, who are promising to fly here in private jet. ,Oh yea i have set up a call to the girls next week and supposed to talk with Dad as well. No pressure right? Now i am getting a little nervous the girls are telling me that their father wants me to take over the family, because Dad wants to retire,I was a manager and engineer for ATT for over 30 years but this would be managing the wealthiest family business in China. Yes it is getting very real now, oh yes on the dating site on my search for rich or wealthy or business owners thousands of ladies profiles appeared I talked to some but very immature would in first chat say they have loved me all of their life, this was common with most of them i talked too, The younger sister is cute but i can tell is very immature so chances are i am going to chose the older sister who owns several banks, and wants to move her business to the U S which allows me to live where i want too, my choice is San Diego, i grew up there and love it there, by the beach both girls seem excited about that.Well its 5 in the morning my hip will not let me sleep but i am going to try again, night all till tomorrow for more Richie

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

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Rising from the Ashes (14/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Two chapters in one week? What? I’m trying to get back to spacing this and BOTB out, so this one gets another posting even though I’m not entirely sure if my writing speed for chapters will keep up. I’m nervous about this chapter. Seriously. I’ve read through it a lot. So I hope that you guys like it 💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Tag list: @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64

There’s absolutely no reason for him to be running today. He doesn’t have the time. He should be in his office reviewing his presentation for tomorrow. He and Robin have spent weeks preparing “what if” scenarios for soldiers to have to run through in the new basic training regimes, and it’s been such a challenge having to form things for teaching instead of actual warfare. He’s been retired from the Navy for half a decade this year, and yet he still spends nearly every day of his life reliving scenes and memories of his time in the military. It’s a bit of the crux of being a career military man. When you get out, what are you qualified to do?

Not everyone has this problem. A lot of people go to school through the services and learn trades. He didn’t go to school, but he did learn a trade in logistics and planning to make sure that the ships didn’t go down in the middle of the night by some kind of Titanic shaped iceberg or an attack. It’s still what he does now, even as a civilian. He’d like to quit one day, to do something calmer, do something that doesn’t bring back so many memories of loss or bring forth so much stress, but this job pays well and supports his family. He can stay at least until Ada goes to college.

In seventeen years.

He’s going to be fifty-five in seventeen years. That’s odd for him to think about, but it’s exactly what he thinks of as his legs burn, the muscles and joints aching a bit more than they used to when he was younger. It’s usually not too bad, the running helping more than hurting, but some days it’s not as easy to hold his daughter above his head to make her giggle or to make love to Emma.

Just last week he’d gotten a cramp right in the middle of their activities, and Emma had laughed so hard that he had started laughing too.

Mostly he was laughing through the pain.

That cramp may still be going on in his right thigh.

It’s always an adventure.

And maybe one day it’ll be an adventure where he can take Emma sailing without any thoughts of war and the pros and cons of Norway randomly invading Afghanistan on a particular day or time.

So maybe that’s why he runs. He’s got a lot that he thinks about, personally and professionally, and the release of endorphins fuels him in a way. It stresses his joints, but it destresses his mind. Besides, he will admit that while he doesn’t think he’s a particularly vain man, he does appreciate the way Emma tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth when he lifts her from the ground or the way that she runs her fingers over the muscles of his stomach. Plus, he wants to be healthy for his kids.

That’s why he keeps running for the next thirty minutes, his legs pounding against the pavement and sweat beading at his forehead and down his back, the early February chill keeping him cool to a point where he knows he’ll start sweating more when he gets inside. It always happens, so it takes him a little while longer to cool down and to take a shower at the gym that’s around the block from his office.

“Jones,” a familiar voice calls to him when he’s just finished buttoning up his shirt, and he turns to look at Neal, his hair sopping wet like he’s just showered as well, “aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I could say the same to you,” he laughs as he pushes his hair back, hoping that it’ll dry correctly since he doesn’t have any of his gel with me. “Lunch break?”

“Yeah, I don’t usually make it here, but it’s been kind of a slow day. Figured I’d eat while I work.”

“That’s how it goes,” he sighs. He bends down to lace his shoes, pulling up his socks the slightest bit before he turns to look back at Neal. “Hey, so Emma is dropping Henry off at my office, and I’m taking him to his therapy appointment. Do you want a ride?”

Neal’s really got to get a car, but now that he might be moving, he’s decided to put off the purchase until he knows for sure where he’s living. It’s likely a good thing. This way he can save up money and put as much down as possible without having to worry about making far too many payments with interest rates the way they are. And if he’s in DC, he may not even need a vehicle. It’s all complicated and still a bit messy, but he and Emma have made plans to sit down and talk to Neal sometime this week, possibly tonight, so that they can actually get through some of this. It’s odd basically regulating a grown man, one who is older than both of them, but they’re trying to figure out how to be a family. Sometimes that takes awkward conversations.

He’s not exactly looking forward to this particular conversation because he’s struggling with the thought that Henry might have to spend some time away from them. Emma is worrying herself sick about it, and she doesn’t even know what’s going to happen. Neither of them do. Hell, Neal likely doesn’t. If he’s honest with himself, Neal likely hasn’t put much thought into either. Killian’s not sure if it’s because Neal hasn’t realized that technically he has a right to having Henry live with him or if he doesn’t care.

Scratch that. Of course Neal cares. He loves Henry, but sometimes he thinks that Neal is more concerned about impressing Henry than being his father. Maybe he still doesn’t know how, maybe he doesn’t think he belongs as a part of their family. He can understand that. He felt that way for a long time, and it must still be difficult for Neal. It might not ever not be difficult, but all he and Emma want is for Neal to feel at home.

And be a father to Henry, to not worry about trying to be more fun or the one who gives better presents. He’s getting there. He really is, and maybe if he and Emma did a better job, Neal would feel more at home.

They’re trying. For as hard as it is on them, he also knows that it’s hard on Neal. So they’re all trying.

“His appointment is at five, yeah?”

“On the dot.”

Neal flashes him a grin while he rubs his hand over his scruff. “Yeah, I’d really appreciate that. Are you going to take me home afterwards or are you going to force me to walk?”

“I thought I’d make you walk. You’ve been letting yourself go, and I didn’t want to say anything.”

He barks out a laugh, the sound echoing throughout the locker room, and it makes Killian smile too, the corners of his lips tugging up.

“I could still take you in a fight, Jones.”

“Please,” he scoffs, tightening his laces one more time before standing up straight, “that never happened. I beat your ass in training every time.”

“Not on – ”

“October fifth.” “See, you remember?”

“Because you never let me forget about it,” Killian laughs, reaching down to pick up his bag. “It was all I heard for months. It’s been thirteen years, and you still don’t let me forget.”

Neal shrugs, his face still crinkled in happiness. “It was a damn good day. You even bought me a beer afterward.”

“Well, I figured since it was a one-time thing, it was the least I could do.” He takes a step over and claps Neal on the shoulder, smiling down at him. “I’ll see you at a quarter before five, and since I’m not evil, I’ll even let you ride home with Henry and me.”

“Such a saint.”

“I try.”

It’s a quick walk back to his office, and after saying hello to his secretary Anna, he settles down in his office and gets back to working on his proposal while eating the leftover pasta salad from dinner last night. He gets about two hours to himself to plow through things before Robin comes in, closing the door behind him and plopping down on the couch, the leather creaking beneath his weight.

“Are you almost finished with the coding for it? Because we need to send that down to Arthur for him to double check, especially since you’re leaving early.”

“I’ve got one section left,” he sighs, typing out one more scenario before rolling back in his chair and looking at Robin. “Did you come in here to procrastinate?”

“Most definitely.”

“So you’re whining about me leaving early because I have to take my kid somewhere, and yet you’re in here not doing your work?”

Robin shrugs and leans back further on the couch. “I already finished my section, mate. I literally can’t do anything else without you.”

“Aww, Rob, I always knew you loved me, but I never knew how much.”

“You’re an asshole,” he laughs, flicking a piece of paper in his direction.

“And yet you love me anyways.” He curls one side of his lips up into a smirk and winks at him, making sure to exaggerate it. “I really will be finished soon, and I’ll likely work through it tonight once everyone is asleep. Emma and I have a lot to do this evening, though.”

“I get it. I’ve got to go get Roland from his mom tonight, but we always get it done, yeah?”

“Aye,” he confirms. “Now get your ass off my sofa so I can finish this up in time.”

Robin mock salutes before walking away, leaving his office door open. It could be an accident, but Killian knows that Robin did it just to annoy him.

The wanker.

The rest of his day goes by as it normally does. He gets all of his program formatted and sends it off in time so that Arthur can run through the technicalities of it before sending it back to Robin. It’s a long, drawn out process, and when there’s a knock at his opened door, Emma and the kids standing there, he’s more relieved that he’s been in awhile to get to see all of them in the office.

“Hello loves,” he smiles as he gets up out of his chair, reaching down to hug Henry first before embracing Emma and briefly kissing her. “I can’t believe Anna let you in here with I specifically told her not to.”

“It’s because I’m super fast,” Henry explains, not at all amused by his joke.

“That you are. Did you have a good day at school, bud?”

“Yeah, but I need your help with fractions later. Mary Margaret made them weird.”

“Did she now?”

“Yeah, she said something about a pizza, but I didn’t get it.”

“It’s okay,” he promises, smiling at Henry to try to get him to perk up a little. “We’ll figure it out later. Do you want to get out your legos from my desk while I talk to Mum?”

Henry nods his head before dropping his backpack on the couch and hurrying over to get the box of toys Killian keeps in his bottom drawer for the times when Henry is here. Or even when Roland or someone else’s kid is stuck waiting while their parents work.

“I always hated fractions,” Emma sighs as she sways back and forth with a sleeping Ada. “And percentages. I still get those wrong sometimes.”

“We can’t all be geniuses like me.”

“Tone it down, Einstein,” she laughs, her lashes landing against her cheek. “But from what I can tell, Henry had a good day, Ada too, so I hope both of their appointments go well. I’ll call you after Ada and I get finished at the doctor.”

“I’m sure they’ll both be fine. Henry and I are going to pick up Neal and take him to his appointment too, okay?”

“When did that happen?”

“I ran into him at the gym and offered.”

Emma clicks her tongue and sighs a bit, her hands constantly running over Ada’s back. “That’ll be good. If you guys want to go out to get something to eat afterwards, that might be good too. Or maybe a snack since Henry has homework and we were going to talk to Neal tonight. Of course we could always talk to him tomorrow.”

He presses his lips together and reaches forward to caress her forearm, moving his fingers in a way similar to what Emma is doing to Ada. They’re both trying to comfort, even if it’s for different reasons. “We’ll talk to him, and it’s going to be fine. He’s not…we haven’t had many issues with him since we told him about us, and he’s grown a lot since then, yeah? He’s not going to try to take Henry away from you, from us.”

“I know that,” she whispers, looking over his shoulder to see Henry. “I really do. I’m nervous. I can’t help it.”

“I know, love. I know.” He leans forward and presses his lips to her temple. “Go take Ada to the doctor and maybe stop to get something you like to eat too.”

“That’s cute that you assume I wasn’t doing that already. Bye kid,” she tells Henry, waving at him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Mom,” he murmurs, not even looking up from his legos.

You can’t get between the boy and his legos.

He finishes up a few last things, checks to see how many emails he has that he needs to respond to before tomorrow, and then shuts his computer down before taking Henry out to the parking garage so that they can get Neal and drive downtown to their therapists’ offices. Henry gets stuck on talking about how Avery told him a restaurant by the pier serves Mickey Mouse waffles, and of course, that gets him to talk about Disney World and how Grace and Violet went with their families over Christmas break. He and Emma have talked about it before, but it’s expensive and they have an infant they’d have to cart around as well.

Maybe some other time.

Why take your kid to Disney World when you can take them to see a hell of a lot of history in Washington DC instead? At least, that’s what they’re telling Henry about their trip next month.

But Neal easily joins in on the conversation about Mickey shaped waffles and the pros and cons of Woody versus Buzz lightyear. Luckily for Neal, Henry likes a lot of the classic movies, so he hasn’t been subjected to watching every new movie to know what his son is talking about. He still has to watch a lot of them, but he’s got the basic knowledge of Toy Story and The Lion King down.

The Lego Movie was all new to him. That’s a favorite in the house.

(He may never be able to watch it without his ears hurting ever again with that damn song.)

After shuffling through traffic, he pulls into the parking lot of the office building and puts the car in park so that he can take Henry up to Dr. Hopper’s office, the two of them dropping Neal off on the second floor.

“So Momma goes to talk to someone, I go to talk to someone, and my dad talks to someone?” Henry asks in the elevator. “Why don’t you talk to someone?”

Kids. They ask the exact things you don’t want to be asked about.

“I used to,” he says after thinking about it for a minute, trying to answer as delicately as he can. “And I might again. Sometimes we need someone besides our mums and dads or our friends to talk to, and that’s why we talk to Dr. Hopper, yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s nice. He talks about you and Mom a lot.”

“We’re very interesting people.”

“Sometimes you guys are boring.”

He chuckles and pulls Henry into his side right when the elevator doors open to their floor, the two of them stepping out and walking to the receptionist’s desk to tell them they’re here for Henry. Dr. Hopper almost immediately walks out, which has never happened to him at any doctor’s appointment in his entire life, and Henry happily walks back in his office with him. He knows that Emma waits in the office when she takes him, but he needs to go fill up the car with gas. So he gets back in the elevator and walks out into the lobby while responding to one of his emails from work.

When he looks up, though, he stops in his tracks, instinct taking over as he folds back into a corner of the lobby while he watches Neal get into a car outside.

What?

What the hell?

Why is Neal getting into a car? Who is he getting into a car with? Is this some kind of therapy thing? They drive and talk? That’s new but maybe it’s a thing.

Bloody hell. It’s definitely not a thing.

Neal is skipping out on his therapy appointment and getting into a random car, and he has no idea why, the blood in his veins heating as confusion and worry courses through him.

He’s already swiping out of his email to call Neal and ask him if he’s okay, if something is wrong that he had to leave, but something stops him from doing anything. Some kind of inner instinct that he honed from years in the Navy and years as a father understanding when a child is lying to him stops him from reaching out and asking Neal where he’s going right now.

He doesn’t…he doesn’t understand, and with the way his mind works, he can’t focus on anything but running through all of the scenarios that might be happening, even the crazy ones. He seems to only be able to focus on the crazy theories which don’t even seem coherent in his mind as he twists them around and tries to make sense of his muddled thoughts.

Something catches in his throat, and he tries to swallow the gulp that’s there while his heart pounds against his ribcage, something constricting in a way that causes his breath to be a bit shortened. Or a lot. He might not be breathing right now. He’s still alive, so he’s definitely breathing. But he can feel heat spreading across his cheeks and goose bumps rising on his arms.

Fuck.

This isn’t right. Whatever is happening isn’t right. Somehow, without any rhyme or reason, he just knows, and if he’s honest with himself as he has this psychological breakdown in the lobby of an office building, there are things that haven’t been right since the very beginning of Neal’s homecoming. He’s noticed them. Of course he has. But his kids, his relationship with Emma, and making sure that Neal has had an easy transition back into society have been his focus so that he hasn’t put too much thought into everything else. He screwed things up so badly with Emma, to the point where she might not have wanted to be with him ever again, and all he’s wanted was to get back on track with her, to make sure that she knows that he loves her more than his own life. All he’s wanted was to make sure that Ada is still growing as much as she should and that Henry is okay after going through such a transition both at home and at school.

All he’s wanted is for everyone to be okay, Neal included.

This, how he’s feeling, how he’s thinking, is not okay.

But maybe it is. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s imagining things.

He’s not imagining things. He can’t be. He’s not crazy. His mind is fully functional. He knows what’s in front of his eyes, and he just watched Neal get into a random car when he’s supposed to be at therapy.

Shit. He should have gotten the license plate.

Why would he get the license plate? What would he do with that? To look up to see if the Uber driver Neal is using is registered on the site? Is it an Uber driver? Maybe it’s a friend. Maybe Neal didn’t feel like talking about things with his therapist today so he called a friend? Why would he do that? Why would he hide that from them?

Then again, why wouldn’t he hide that from them? Emma would make him go, would be upset if she knew that he wasn’t going, so maybe that’s it. He needed a break from talking. Killian understands that. There were days when he used to hate going to therapy as well.

But…

He’s got no bloody clue what’s happening.

It’s likely nothing, and this is just his paranoia and anxiety stepping up when he’s been living in a pretty stressful situation for a long while. Maybe it’s a bit of confusion, but maybe it’s just another thing about Neal that doesn’t add up when he truly thinks about it. Maybe it’s something. Maybe it can explain why Neal’s handling his PTSD better than anyone he’s ever seen. Maybe it can explain why none of Neal’s scars were fresh, why all of them had years to heal. Maybe it can explain why Neal is so hell bent on being an American hero and spending his time in DC. In working in the government even when the government failed him so spectacularly. Maybe it can explain why Neal seems to always be gone, to never be home on time. Maybe it can explain Neal knowing things he shouldn’t know. It’s only been a few things, a few random, unimportant things, but Neal knows things that he shouldn’t since he has been in captivity for eight years.

Or maybe it can’t explain anything. Neal was captured by Al-Qaeda almost a decade ago, and that’s where he’s been. He’s been through a tragedy, and he gets to be home and back with his family, even if it’s a little different than the way he thought it would be. Neal was captured, and he is a hero. That’s what’s happened.

But what if it’s not?

That’s preposterous. That’s the most insane thought he’s ever had, and Neal getting in a car to skip out on therapy doesn’t mean anything.

All of his thoughts are starting to sound like people who believe in conspiracy theories, and he is not that kind of man. He is too logical for all of this. He’s simply stressed and a little short staffed after a hectic day at work and the impending conversation about his son’s living situation. All he needs is to take a few deep breaths and calm himself down so that his mind stops working in overdrive.

His phone starts ringing in his hand and he sees Emma’s scrunched up smiling face from where he’d just kissed her cheek before she snapped the picture. She put it in his phone as her contact name, and it makes him smile nearly every time.

She makes him smile.

“Hello, love,” he greets, clenching his jaw and attempting to calm himself down from the race that his mind is currently running. He hates when he gets like this. It’s helpful at work but not now.

“Hey, babe. So guess who is the father of a perfectly healthy nine-month-old baby girl?”

“I sure as hell hope it’s me.”

“I mean, obviously I was just calling you to tell you about a random baby.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Exactly,” Emma laughs, her voice so light that it nearly breaks him apart thinking about everything that’s just happened. It has to be nothing. It’s just a weird coincidence, a misunderstanding. All of these odd little things happening over the past few months with Neal have been misunderstandings. They can’t be more. They can’t for Emma’s sake, for Henry’s. Emma doesn’t need to go through anything else. She needs to be happy. He’s overreacting in the biggest of ways. He’s got to cut back on coffee. “But seriously, Ada is growing just fine. She’s nineteen pounds and twenty seven inches. Dr. Kay said the only thing was that we need to try some more different textured foods, so I’m going to run by Whole Foods and get some of the things on this list we got.”

“That’s wonderful, love. I’m glad she’s healthy.”

He’s more than glad. He’s so relieved. He knows of all the things that can go wrong in young children, and it’s the biggest comfort knowing that his child is okay. She once had a high fever, just a few weeks after she was born, and that was one of the most nerve-wracking moments of his life.

“You and me both. Sometimes I get so worried about her. Like, it’s so easy to mess things up, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Swan,” he sighs, smiling the slightest bit because he can’t help himself when it comes to her, “you are the best mum on the planet. There’s no competition.”

-/-

“I’m dying,” Emma groans, adjusting herself in bed again, kicking around the pillows at her feet.

“I’m sure that’s not true, love.”

Emma’s eyes basically turn into black slits, and he immediately inches away from her, putting space between them so that she doesn’t punch him. He likely deserves it.

“I have heartburn that is killing me. Actually killing me. I forgot about this.”

“Do you need something?” he asks softly, reaching over to her and rubbing his fingers into her arm while she still twists and turns on the bed.

“I think I’m going to just lay here and suffer in my misery, but if you want to get the remote for me, that’d be wonderful.”

“Now that I can do.”

He puts his book down on his bedside table before moving the covers off of his legs and rising from the bed to take the few steps toward the television and the remote that’s resting on its stand. He picks it up and tosses it over toward the bed so that it bounces on the mattress toward Emma. She quickly picks it up and turns the television on, flipping through channels.

“I’m going to go get some tea, Swan. Do you want anything?”

“Water. And some more Tums.”

“As you wish.”

It’s still early, the sun having barely risen, so he’s surprised when he finds Henry in the kitchen standing on his step stool as he looks through the cabinets. Usually he sleeps in on Saturdays, and they always hear the floor creak when he walks past their bedroom.

“What are you looking for?”

“Food,” Henry shrugs, not at all shocked by Killian’s presence. “Where did all of our good stuff go?”

“There’s plenty of good stuff in there,” he scoffs, stepping over to look in the cabinet with Henry. “Do you want some oatmeal? Cheerios? What about some scrambled eggs? I don’t think Mum is feeling up to one of our big Saturday breakfasts.”

“I thought babies are supposed to make people more hungry. That’s what Avery says.”

“Isn’t Avery an only child?”

“Yeah, but he’s smart.”

“Of course he is,” he laughs, grabbing Henry by the waist and plopping him down on the kitchen island so that he’s away from all of the appliances. “I can fix you something to eat, and we’ll go upstairs and eat it in my room, yeah?”

“I thought I couldn’t eat in my room.”

“But you can in my room when I say so, and I think your mummy needs some extra snuggles with you this morning.”

“Why? She’s already got the baby.”

Oh shit. He’s been expecting this, but he wasn’t really expecting it until after the baby was here and a lot of their time was spent focusing on her. He most definitely wasn’t expecting it now when Emma’s five months along and Henry has known he was getting a sibling for two months.

This is going to be one of those moments where he terribly screws things up, isn’t it?

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to spend time with you,” he says softly, making sure to be extra careful with his words while he closes the kitchen cabinets.

“But all she talks about with other people is the baby.”

“Mum is excited, lad,” he sighs, leaning back against the counter and studying Henry’s face, wishing his lips weren’t curled down. “I thought you were too. You’re going to be a big brother just like Liam is to me and David is to your mum.”

“I am excited,” he mumbles underneath his breath while messing with his t-shirt, the picture of someone who is not excited, “but what if you and Momma love my sister more than you love me?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, stepping forward and wrapping Henry up in a hug even as Henry squirms away from him a bit before finally wrapping his arms around his back, “that’s just not true. We love you so much, Henry, and that’s never going to change, okay? Yes, you’re going to have to share your time with us with your sister, but I promise that we will love you just as much.”

“Are you still going to come to my soccer games?” he sniffles, burying his head in Killian’s shoulder.

“Every Saturday afternoon. I will be there for as much as I can. And when your sister is big enough, she’s going to be there to cheer you on every Saturday as well.”

“Is she gonna be able to yell like Momma does?”

“Oh most definitely,” he laughs, leaning back so that he can look in Henry’s eyes, his little brows no longer furrowed and his lips beginning to curve up. “She’s going to be a big yeller. She’s going to be a lot smaller than you, but we’re still going to do a lot of fun things. I always wanted a little sister, and you’re so lucky to get one.”

“You wanted a little sister?”

“Of course I did,” he answers, pulling the eggs out of the refrigerator so he can make some scrambled eggs. “When you have a younger sibling, you get to teach them all kinds of things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you can teach her to play soccer and to draw those cool pictures of yours. She’ll need a lot of help at first, like learning to walk and talk, and you can help her with that. You can also tell her stories like I do to you.”

“I think she’ll like Captain Underpants.”

He snickers under his breath as he cracks an egg open on the pan. “I think she might.”

“Will she like TV?”

“Who doesn’t like TV?”

“Grandma sometimes.” “Well your grandma is just a silly goose,” he laughs, moving his spatula around a bit while adding some pepper. “But yeah, bud, she’s going to like all of those things, and you can help your mum and I take care of her so that her favorite person in the world is her big brother Henry.”

He and Henry keep talking about all of the things that Henry can do with his sister once she’s born, even if a few of them are a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice way to keep Henry excited, to make him be happy again when he’s apparently been a little down about it. He’ll have to talk to Emma about this later, to let her know what’s going on, and maybe they’ll be able to figure out a better way to talk to him about everything than his on the fly conversation with Henry. He also needs to tell her that today is definitely not the day to tell Henry about Neal. They’ve been working on that ever since they found out Emma was pregnant, and it was finally going to happen this afternoon. They had this whole plan, something researched and practiced and thought through, but if Henry’s struggling with a little jealousy, now is not the time for him to find out that Killian isn’t actually his father.

It’s never going to be easy, especially for Emma and Henry, but they have to do it. Henry deserves to know about Neal. Neal’s memory deserves to be honored through his son. It’s a difficult balance for him to not step on toes, to make sure that he does what’s right for Henry. He’s not his biological father. He never will be. But that’s their life, and biology doesn’t mean a damn thing to him when he loves this kid as much as anything.

But Henry should also get to know about his biology and all of the sacrifices and love that Neal made and gave for Henry and for their country in general.

He should know that his dad is a hero.

Just not today.

“Alright,” he sighs, handing Henry a bowl of mixed berries while he holds the eggs and his tea, “let’s go sit with Mum and make her feel better.”

Henry nods his head before running up the stairs, nearly dropping his bowl, but he catches himself and busts through their bedroom door, leaving the door wide open as Killian follows in behind him.

“Hey, kid,” Emma greets, sitting up a little bit and flipping the channel to something else, “what are you doing up?”

“Daddy and I made breakfast, but it’s not for you.”

“Really now? Why not?”

“You’re not hungry.” He climbs up onto the mattress and crawls over to Emma, sitting himself right in her side was she wraps her arm around his shoulder. It’s one of his favorite sights in the world, and it gets so much better by the curve of Emma’s stomach under her tank top. “So this is all for me and Daddy.”

“What did we just say about sharing?” He laughs, settling down on the bed as well.

“Oh yeah.” Henry looks from him to looking at Emma who’s got a soft smile on her face as one hand rests on her belly and the other hand messes with Henry’s hair. “My sister and I are going to be best friends like Daddy and Liam, and I’m going to teach her how to play soccer.”

“You are? Do you think she’ll be able to kick goals like you?”

“Maybe not as good as me.”

“She’ll need lots of practice,” Emma laughs. “Soon she’s going to be able to kick my belly, so I think she’s already trying to catch up to you.” “I have to go practice,” Henry gasps, moving to get out of the bed only for Emma to yank him back down and pull him further into his side.

“Not quite yet, kid. I want you to cuddle with me because I love you so much.” “I love you too,” Henry says as he squirms, finally settling into Emma’s side and resting his head against her shoulder. He’s just about to pick up his tea and try to find them something else to watch when Henry looks at him with this big cheesy grin on his face as he loudly whispers, “she does want to cuddle with me.” “I told you so,” he promises as he reaches over to grab Henry’s hand.

-/-

“I think you might be a bit biased,” she gushes, the sound of Ada faintly filtering through in the background.

“Well, I am rather in love with you.”

“You sentimental sap,” Emma laughs. “I love you too. Let me know when you guys are on the way home, okay?”

“I will.”

When the call ends, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down more. He needs to get a grip, to ground himself. Emma grounds him, her voice, her face. She steadies him when he’s the furthest thing from steady.

She’s…everything.

He’s overreacting. He has to be. Neal is allowed to live his own life. They’re encouraging him to live his own life, and that’s the thought process he maintains as he sits down in the lobby, completely forgetting about the fact that he needs to go get gas or respond to the rest of his emails. Instead of doing anything productive he sits in silence and watches as people move in and out of the building, the gentle closing of the glass doors followed by the click of heels on the tile, the sound only dying out when they get into the elevator.

That sound is what he focuses on, counting the steps it takes for different people to walk the same distance, and when he looks down at his phone and sees that it’s nearly six, he stands from his chair and makes his way back to the elevator bay, loading onto the cart with a woman and her children who are going to the same floor that he is. Henry is already waiting for him when he gets there, and the smile on his face calms him the slightest bit. He’s happy. That’s good. That means the session went well.

“Hey,” he waves, placing his hand on Henry’s back and guiding him out of the office. “Did you have a nice time? Anything you want to talk about with me?”

“Nope. I already told Dr. Hopper about how we can’t go to Disney World.”

“When your sister is older, kid,” he starts. “When your sister is older.”

Neal is waiting for them in the lobby when they get to the lobby again, his foot tapping against the floor, and even though he’s told himself to drop it, to drop all of the wild thoughts that are running through his mind, he can’t. Neal’s come back just in time for him to not know that he left.

Damn it.

If he had stayed in the lobby he could have seen him coming back.

What would he have said? Where the hell did you go? Why aren’t you in therapy? Is everything okay? Are you hiding something? What’s happening?

(He’s lost his mind and needs to get a grip.)

He could say all of those things. He could. he knows the words, knows how to speak, but none of them fall off of his tongue. He doesn’t want to be accusatory when there’s most likely nothing going on, and he’s going to continue operating that way until he knows for sure. There’s a tentative tightrope that they’re all walking on, and he’s not going to be the one to push them off of it because he’s lost his mind.

So he doesn’t say anything when they get in the car or when they stop and let Henry get a smoothie. He doesn’t say anything when they get home and help Henry do his homework, the two of them trying to explain fractions to him. He doesn’t say anything when they eat dinner, and he doesn’t say anything afterwards when they’re all watching TV while he does eventually finish up working on his emails. And he doesn’t say anything when Henry and Ada are put down to bed.

And he especially doesn’t say anything when he, Emma, and Neal sit down to talk about whether or not Neal is going to take the job in DC.

He is. He wants to do it. He’s determined to do it, to make a difference in the world now that he knows what it’s like to have a second chance at life. And when Emma very tentatively asks him what he wants to do about Henry, Neal tells them that while it’s not ideal, he’ll be happy to come home for every holiday that he can and every weekend that he can and that they don’t have to send Henry to DC by himself. He tells them that he doesn’t want Henry’s life to be disrupted any more than it’s already been. He tells them every single thing that a loving father who both wants to do good for his kid and good for himself would say.

And Killian is positive that he means it. Emma is even more so. She’s so good at reading others, her little superpower developed over years of careful use, and he’s got to trust that she’s able to use it with Neal. He knows that sometimes she can be wrong, but he’d bet that she’s right nearly every time.

He’d trust her over everything.

So while he’s calmed a bit over possibly losing Henry, over Henry being hurt at never seeing his dad (something he’s still worried about if he’s honest with himself), he can’t turn his mind off. He can’t make the thoughts stop, the theories cease from forming, the worries festering. And when they’re in bed and Emma starts trailing her lips up the cords of his neck, instead of melting against her touch, he pulls back, turning his body away from her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly, her voice barely a whisper above the hum of the ceiling fan.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he lies, twisting a bit so that he can see her face, see the worry in her eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

How can he ever be mad at Emma when he’s mad at himself for thinking that Neal, this man they all love, isn’t telling the full truth? How could he ever be mad at Emma when he’s so mad at himself for nearly every thought he’s had today? How could he…how could he think something so absurd that would hurt everyone he knew if he ever said the words out loud?

How can he be thinking any of this?

“No,” he promises, reaching over to her and resting his thumb in the indent of her chin, making sure that she can see the seriousness in his gaze, “how could I ever be mad at you?”

#rising from the ashes #captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan fic

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