#my parents for a really long time worked opposing full time jobs so while mom was at work dad was home but usually sleeping because he

[freshwitchgladiator]

hm

#this is a weird ranty post I’m feeling weird today and trying to figure out why and typing helps but I don’t want to look at this afterward #the one thing tumble tags are good for esp on mobile tbh #mothers day is weird for me and id completely repressed it until my sisters talked about getting treats at church for being #quote: FUTURE MOMS #my one sister isn’t even 12 yet. but I think about Mother’s Day and I just feel weird. sometimes the kiddos call me mom still #it’s not often but it happens and part of that is oldest sister syndrome from being 6 years older than my oldest sibling #my parents for a really long time worked opposing full time jobs so while mom was at work dad was home but usually sleeping because he #works the grave shift and is an idiot who pushes himself to be awake at such random times that he has three different sleeping pills he has #to take whenever he fully exhausts himself #one of them and only one is ambien. #but I remember from the time when I was in like 6th grade I was expected most days to get me and my brother up and off to school #he was in kindergarten at the time #and I remember one day getting hyper fixated on something for school that morning so I didn’t get my brother to school on time and I got #grounded for two weeks for it #I was expected to parent without actually having any of the responsibilities or ability to discipline and so when things went wrong it was #always my fault #but because I don’t have kids bio or otherwise I’m overlooked #you ever look at yourself at go “huh apparently I need therapy for that too” #shut up Alex

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun? | part 4

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: chronic illness, hurt/comfort, drug use**! spencer and reader smoke weed together; talks of relapse and recovery. Also, a case involving child abductions, getting engaged, love confessions

word count: 2.4k

a/n: not sure how long this is going to keep getting but I am enjoying adding to it

P1 P2 P3

Days like today suck.

She can’t get out of bed, she’s so hungry her stomach is swirling and screaming and there’s a pain in her intestines that feels like someone is eating her from the inside out but she can’t move… and she has to pee but her legs hurt and her head is pounding from the light. It’s 6 am according to the alarm clock, Spencer hasn’t left for work yet and she’s already missing him.

She manages to make it to the bathroom, sitting there for too long after because she can’t find the courage to stand back up.

“Why?” She whispers to herself before the tears start.

Covering her face as she cries, she’s still sitting on the toilet with her underwear around her ankles, sobbing as Spencer walks in.

He helps her up without asking, he’s seen too many bad mornings now to ask if she needs help, he just knows she wants to go back to bed, so he fixes her underwear and picks her up.

When he finally lays her down with all her pillows, he lowers the temperature in the room to relax her bones and gets her a ginger ale to help with the nausea from the pain she’s in. It is a regular occurrence for her to wake up and feel like she’s dying, but Spencer was wonderful when dealing with it.

He’s in the kitchen for a while, she’s worried he’s making something for her to eat that she’ll have to lovingly turn away because she can’t do it right now. Her throat is too tight and it hurts to swallow or talk.

She can hear him talking… he’s on the phone with someone.

When he comes back in, he cuddles into her the way he knows she likes. Soothing his hands over her back in a way that helps the pain while also helping her feel like she’s not alone in all of this. He’ll never understand; but he loves her, so a part of him feels it too.

“You called out?” She whispers against his chest.

He nods, his cheek resting on the top of her head as she feels the friction. “I don’t feel good when you don’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry you had to help.”

He’s told her time and time again that he doesn’t mind.

He would kill for her, he’d clean up the mess if she killed someone. He’d even dig the fucking grave if she needed him too… he wasn’t opposed to being there for her no matter what that entailed.

She just hated the fact he had to, he knew her apology came from her hatred of herself and not the fact she felt sorry for him. She loved the help, it made her feel loved until she felt disappointed in herself for needing it.

“Do you want your medicine?”

She smiles finally, “if you mean my secret joint stash— yes, but if you can’t handle being around me like that, then I don’t need it today.”

“I think I’d like to try it,” Spencer whispers. “If you can smoke weed and not relapse then I think I can too?”

“Probably, but if you can’t, I’ll support you however you need me to?” She smiles up at him, he kisses the tip of her nose as she kisses his chin.

Getting high with Spencer is… interesting to say the least. He doesn’t want a full hit, he just wants a taste and so she takes a drag and blows the smoke from her lungs to his. Sharing a part of themselves in a way they never expected before, this is his most vulnerable moment and he was trusting her with it.

The sunshine hits his face in such a perfect way that as they lay side by side, she can watch his pupil devour his iris as he gets high. Their breathing is steady and their fingers are interlocked. They’re content just blinking together, in the sunshine, quiet. In love.

Her body is so calm, and her mind is slow as she takes it all in and he looks so relaxed. He’s not jittery or caffeine-deprived like most mornings; he’s not anxious or stressed or trying to find a way to pretend he’s fine before leaving for work again, only to come home sad.

He’s okay.

She’s okay.

“It's nice,” he whispers, “but it’s not as good as you.”

She smiles, trying not to laugh at how his thoughts are going to be all jumbled for the next few hours. He’s going to be smart yet stupid at the same time and she couldn’t fucking wait to hear all the things he thinks of.

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“This is like a tidal wave..." his ramble starts and she is so excited to see where it takes them. "A tsunami that rushes and relieves just as quickly." His eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy.

"You’re like a volcano; there are so many stages before mass destruction, and even then there’s still the ash cloud and the debris and the lava dries like rocks… the destruction is total and the cleanup will be brutal.”

“I’m addicted to you," his eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy. "Drugs are boring and you’re not,” Simplifying his meaning as his eyes open again.

“I love you,” he says with the same certainty as the first time.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she didn’t think they’d go down this path when she was blowing into his mouth, she expected him to panic or get horny.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how much.”

He shakes his head lightly, “I wouldn’t be opposed to knowing.”

If she thinks it over, she’ll abandon ship before she can tell him, so she just jumps into it.

“I was a little scared to ask you to help me lock my door that first day because I thought you’d think I was just some junky who couldn’t get their shit together. But the second you asked if I had a local group and you helped me; that was the moment I knew I wanted you in my life for forever.”

He smiles, silent so she can keep going. He’ll take his turn when she’s really done.

“And then when we got to talking it was like I knew you already. Like I had your memories in my mind and as you told me things I was like well duh! Yeah, that’s my Spencer! I don’t know how it happened so fast. One minute you’re a stranger and the next you’re the only person I ever want to see for the rest of my entire fucking life,” it’s more passionate than she expected as she rambles on.

“I can’t get married on paper without losing my disability, but I don’t give a fuck about a piece of paper or someone officially giving us that title one day, I’m content just staying in this bed with you for the rest of time and never moving again.”

He looks like he’s about to explode with love as he presses his lips together in the softest smile. He can’t keep quiet any longer, “are you asking me to spend the rest of my life with you but not marry you?”

She laughs at the realization, “I think so?”

They’re trying to kiss but it ends up more like laughing with their mouths touching and teeth occasionally clashing. It’s hysterical because of the marijuana, sure, but they’re high on each other. It’s everything they’ve ever wanted.

To find something better than drugs; that little purpose in life comes back, that drive to see tomorrow because there are good memories to be made with their favourite person. She’s not afraid of the darkness or the unknowing anymore, Spencer’s her guiding light.

He's holding her close to his chest after a while, "are you feeling better?"

"Of course," she smiles, "I've got my weed and my reid."

His laugh is everything as it fills their space again. This was how the rest of her life was going to feel, and it made her excited for tomorrow.

—

She’s feeling a lot better later and they need Spencer to help Penelope back at work, but he doesn’t want to leave her. She’s in sweats with a blanket on her lap in the corner of Penelope’s office, a book in her hand and a coffee on the table beside her as she listens to them bicker back and forth.

“If you hack the NSA we can no longer use all this as evidence if he’s brought in alive, Penelope!” Spencer whisper shouts at her, afraid to raise his voice at her but wanting to get his point across.

“Hotch needs the aerial shots like yesterday, and the NSA won't get them to us in time for this kid!” She yells back.

“Call google…” Y/N suggests, flipping through her book.

“What?” Spencer looks at her like she just said the dumbest thing ever.

“They’re taking photos constantly for their maps program, my mom was saying our new roof is now on the updated map. They might have all the photos saved up, if the FBI asks nicely they might work with you…” she explains, pressing her lips together in a tight smile.

“You’re a genius!” Penelope shouts, dialling the phone and getting JJ to work his media magic for contact at google.

Spencer's smile is one she hasn’t seen before, he’s not only proud of her; he looks a little turned on. She just cracked the case by knowing all the little hacks about the internet as part of her day job. She lived online, and now she was saving lives because of it.

It was a good case to help on, she got to see 3 kids go home to their parents and know a terrible man was going to rot in prison for the rest of his sad and pathetic life. The hard part was seeing them go through months of footage of this guy's yard, seeing the child-sized holes he dug up. The disrupted earth and the knowledge of what happened when there wasn’t picture proof.

—

They go to a meeting after work.

They sit side by side, her leg is crossed and resting over his knee as their arms are linked and fingers interlocked. They really couldn’t be any closer if they tried. They just wanted to listen today, to know they were in a room of people who were trying, people who understood and battled every bad feeling they did.

“Y/N,” the group leader calls her out just before the end of the meeting, “it’s nice to see you back here with Spencer, we heard you found another group but it’s nice to see you here for the support.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but as you can see he is distracting.” She gestured to how they were sitting with a small giggle. “I like coming here if you guys don’t mind me occasionally dropping by?”

“By all means,” another member, carol, spoke up. “Spencer is a great sponsor, it’s nice to see him happy.”

She didn’t know he was a sponsor but he thanks her for the compliment, it turns out almost everyone in his group turned to Spencer for support. It was comforting to everyone there to know the real, chemical and biological reasoning behind their addictions. Spencer provided a sense of calm for all of them, like a younger brother; they all loved him dearly.

They’re still holding hands as they walk home, the sun is still setting and it's barely even 7 pm. All the lights on the street are on, shops are closing and the sidewalks are bare. One store is still open however, across the street, she can see the big storefront window, illuminated with the brightest lights to show off a new collection of rings.

“Do you want one?” He notices her eyes darting to the light like a moth to a flame.

“What?” She zones back in when he stops walking.

“A ring, do you want to get one?” He clarifies with the softest voice.

She nods softly, “you should get one too though, seeing as I asked you and everything.”

He grips her hand tighter and they dart across the street. Giggling like children running to the playground, they’re almost out of breath from laughing as they open the shop door with a ding. Smiles on their faces, joy in their hearts, it makes the shop owner swoon as she sees them.

“Did you just get engaged?” She pries with a knowing smile.

They nod, “we just need some rings,” Y/N adds.

She waves them over, “well I’m going to need our sizes first, here try these on.” She hands them what looks like a thin ruler with holes spaces out.

Y/N attempts to find the right one, fitting the best into the 9 and a half. Spencer fits into the 11 on the first try like he knew already and the woman just laughs at the way Y/N glares at him with love.

“What kind of rings are we thinking? Do you have a preferred cut, style, size, or colour?”

It’s a lot all at once and she’s never really thought about it, “I love my grandma's ring, do you have any vintage styles?”

“I have vintage-style rings as well as some restored rings from the '20s and '30s,” she brings out a jewellery box from under the counter. “These are all appraised and unique.”

When she takes the lid off, Y/N’s eyes widen at the view. There are at least 50 rings in their velvet beds as they wait patiently to be tried on; all different shapes sizes and colours like she said. It feels a little overwhelming at first but then her eyes land on a green one. She takes it out slowly and slides it over her ring finger.

It’s perfect.

Spencer picks out a nice gold band to match, he pays and the lady is so happy to watch them leave hand in hand with their new rings. Dedicated to each other forever and ever, he was her person for the rest of time because he said so and that’s as good as a piece of paper.

She’s a completely different person from who she was when she woke up; twirling down the street with the love of her life, high on loving him as he makes her laugh and holds her hand. He stops in the middle of the street and places his hands on her cheeks, drawing her in closer.

“Loving you is so much fun.”

“Ain’t it fun?” She agrees with a smile before pressing their lips together.

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun #drug tw

[withoneheadlight]

oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So. 

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while.  Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands,  feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e.  When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this:  the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

💎

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

#harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy hargrove #Billy x Steve #xask #askfic #xharringrove #the harrington-hargrove household #xaskwithoneheadlight #xfluff #xpronight

[tony-is-my-daddy]

Dream a little dream of me pt2

The weather was bad, it was getting a bit cold at the middle of October now, but Peter and his little students were outside on the playground. He was pushing one of the youngest little boys in the swing who couldn't do it by himself yet, while watching over the rest of the children around him so no one would get hurt. Of course, you wouldn't think a class of fifteen kids was a lot to look after, but honestly, even looking after one was a challenge for some people.

It was nice, though, the kids were slowly starting to go home with their parents, even the little boy who he was swinging, and after a while, it was just him and Morgan. It was strange, Morgan was usually one of the first kids to be taken home.

"Hey princess. Who's coming for you today," he asked as he sat down next to the little girl who sat on a bench, swinging her legs that couldn't reach the ground.

"Eric..."

Peter frowned. "Who's Eric?"

"My new dad. I don't wike him too much."

Oh. "Your mommy has a new boyfriend?"

"Yes he's gunna be my new dad."

"Well, when did you meet him?"

"Last week..."

"That's a very little tiny short time," Peter said, his thumb and index finger almost touching as he showed how small he meant to the girl. "Why don't you wait until you get to know him better? Maybe you will like him."

"But I wanted you to be my new dad..."

His heart skipped a beat at that. "Now now, Morgan, daddy told you not to talk about this, right?"

"Right... sorry."

"It's okay, bub. Just be nice to Eric, okay? You can't be sure what he's like if you don't know him yet."

"Otay."

Just then, someone walked through the gate, a tall, broad man with black hair and brown eyes. He smiled when he spotted Morgan on the bench.

"Hi Morgan! I'm so sorry for being late, it won't happen again, I promise," he said as he walked over to her and Peter. "Hi um I'm sorry, this won't be a regular occasion, traffic was just a nightmare," he explained to Peter this time. "Eric."

"Peter. It's okay, I gladly spend my whole day with this little angel, ain't that right, Morgan?" The little girl giggled as Peter pinched her cheek. "Alright, now go home with Eric, bub."

"Goodbye, Mr. Parker," she said as she jumped off the bench.

"Bye bye Morgan!"

Morgan and Eric walked out and got in a car, leaving Peter alone on the school grounds. He sighed as he looked around, the playground that was a few minutes ago full of screaming children now so lifeless. It was scary and he didn't like being there without the kids, so he went back to his classroom where he collected all of his belongings. He checked his phone before leaving and saw a message from Tony.

Tony: Ready for tonight?

Peter: Not yet, just got out of work

Tony: You're still beautiful

Peter: Don't make me blush

Tony: ;)

It was Friday again, almost a week after their first date, and now they were going on a second. Peter was so excited about having their second date now, since he very much enjoyed their first one. It all still seemed so surreal, him dating Tony Stark, texting him every single day and seeing him occasionally when he came to get Morgan. He loved it, of course, but he wouldn't be surprised if this all were just some kind of fever dream or a bad joke. Though be prayed for it not to be.

When he got home, he laid down for a while, opening up his chat with Tony again as he put something on for background noise on the TV.

Peter: What should I wear?

Tony: ?

Peter: This is a fancy place

Tony: Not that fancy

Peter: Fancier than what a kindergarten teacher is used to

Peter: So what should I wear?

Tony: I'll be wearing a suit and tie, if that helps

Peter: Then we should match

Tony: You're adorable

Peter: I know :)

Tony: Literally everything you wear will look amazing on you because EVERYTHING LOOKS FUCKING AMAZING WHEN YOU WEAR IT

Peter: You say that because you haven't seen me in my lazy sunday attire yet XD

Tony: What does that look like?

Peter: A shirt that's 3 sizes big on me and sweatpants

Peter: And ugly glasses

Tony: I wear ugly glasses too

Tony: But that's even worse since I wear them because I'm old as fuck

Peter: You're only 10 years older than me

Tony: I'd like to point out that you have daddy issues but then that would seem like I'm not glad that you do so I'll just keep quiet

Peter: Shut up and get dressed XD

Tony: Alright, see you in a bit ;)

God, he loved their banter.

During the past week, they really spoke every single day, for the first two days Tony texted him first, and then Peter got brave enough to text first as well. They got to know each other more, they told each other about their traumas and families - Peter about that one aunt that he still had and loved, and Tony about his dad and mom, then his closest friends who he counted as family. Peter now also knew that Tony loved old school rock, cheeseburgers and liked to work on old cars in his free time, that he went to MIT and graduated early with perfect grades. Tony knew about how much Peter loved to cook and that he loved pets, especially cats, and he was really into the 50's and 60's songs, that he was a nerd back in school and he was part of the decathlon team.

So basically, now they knew a shit ton of things about each other, even just after a week. It was crazy, they wouldn't stop talking to each other, it was like they were fifteen years old in love again.

As Peter's mind was wandering back to Tony and to how amazing of a person he was, he slowly began to get ready for their date. He chose one of his two suits (wow, what a great job) and a baby blue tie that looked good with the light grey. He got dressed, gelled his hair back, and he was ready to go. Thankfully, not long after that Tony texted, saying he's just leaving his place. Peter waited until the doorbell rung again and this time, he let Tony in. There was nothing wrong in letting the man look around, right?

"Hey Tones," Peter greeted when he opened his door for the man. "Come on in, I just have to put on my jacket and my shoes and we can go."

Tony walked in and looked around the small kitchen and dining space. He peeked through the archway to the living room as well, then hummed. "Living cozy up here, I see."

"Very," Peter chuckled. "That's what the landlord said when I was looking around the place as well, I assume because the best was to describe a small ass apartment is ‘cozy’." Tony laughed at that.

"Well it might be small but it's very homey. I like it a lot." The older man leaned over to look at the succulents that stood in a perfect line on his windowsill. "I like the plants."

"Oh there's a lot of them in here, most of them I keep in the living room. Wanna check them out?"

"Yeah sure-" he looked at his watch, "oh wow, maybe not now. We're gonna be late for our reservation."

"Oh sorry, yes, let's go," he said as he pulled up the zipper on his jacket.

They went to a modern place which looked super expensive, but Tony assured him that ut wasn't actually. They sat down at a nice little table for two, a romantic candle lit between the two of them at the center of it. Everything looked so nice and Peter was so excited. They ordered their dinner and began eating as soon as the waiter brought it to them. They were both very hungry already.

"How do you like it," Tony asked.

"Oh it's absolutely amazing. How's yours?"

"Good. I think my mamma made it better, though."

Peter's eyes widened. "Your... mamma?"

"Yeah, my mother used to cook a lot of italian dishes that she learned from my grandmother. She always said that italian food was the best kind of food in the world."

"Wow, I didn't know that."

Tony smirked. "You also didn't know I was half italian."

"No way!"

"Yep."

When they got back from the date to Peter's place, it was already quite late, yet it seemed too early to let the man leave just yet. Peter desperately looked around his house to find something, anything, that could make the older man want to stay for a bit more.

"Hey, I have some leftover wine. It's not Chardonnay or anything like that, but... if you wanna stay for a while and drink some then I think... I wouldn't be very opposed to that."

Tony smirked. "Well how can I say no when you're asking so nicely?"

They took of their jackets, shoes and blazers and Peter grabbed two glasses and the bottle on their way to the living room. They sat down on the couch and started drinking. Tony was looking around the place, the stairs behind Peter's desk catching his eyes and he finally looked up to see a loft bedroom.

"You actually sleep up there?"

Peter laughed. "Yeah, I do."

"There's no walls, aren't you scared of falling off?"

"There's fencing up there, Tones. See, all around the flooring."

"And where's your bed?"

"Oh I don't have a bed. I have a mattress on the floor."

"What the fuck?!"

"Yeah, I mean, it didn't seem like a good idea to have that old hardwood flooring hold up not just my weight but also a bed's weight. So I thought a mattress would be enough. It's actually quite nice up there, I have lots of plants."

"Yeah, and if you come home drunk you might break a leg on your way to your... mattress."

"That's why I mever drink until I get drunk."

They discussed Peter's living situations for some time, and when they finally stopped talking for a minute or two, Tony looked at his watch.

"It's late, isn's it," Peter asked.

"Almost midnight."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here for so long."

"No, it's fine. I didn't really... wanna leave anyway."

Peter smiled, looking away from the older man's eyes shyly. "You know, if it's already so late... and you had a lot of wine now, maybe... it wouldn't be a great idea to drive home."

"Peter Parker, are you asking me to sleep over?"

He glanced up at the older man through his thick lashes. "Would that be okay?"

Tony put the glass half full of wine down on the coffe table and leaned in to capture Peter's lips in a soft kiss. "It would be more than okay," he breathed when they pulled away. Peter grinned from ear to ear and he pulled Tony back in for another kiss by his tie, this one deeper, more passionate than the one before. They ended up making out for about ten minutes on the couch, Peter's arms around Tony's neck and his legs in Tony's lap, the man's arms wrapped around his body and hands stroking his back. It was perfect. Sexy. Until Peter forgot that he still had a glass of wine in his hand and spilled it all over the back of Tony's shirt.

Tony, of course, forgave him, but it definitely killed the vibes. Tony's dress shirt ended up soaking in the sink while the two of them fell asleep, cuddling on Peter's mattress.

After that great second date, Peter invited Tony over on Tuesday the next week to bake a pumpkin pie together. Yes, it was a lame idea for a third date but it was his turn to finally ask Tony out, and he didn't really want to go anywhere, he just wanted to stay in his apartment, bake a pie and maybe cuddle with Tony under a blanket afterwards. Let a man dream!

Tony didn't seem to have any problems with the idea and on Tuesday, after both of their shift was over, he went over to Peter's.

"Hey! So great to see you again," Peter greeted him with a kiss.

"You saw me yesterday night when we FaceTimed," Tony said.

"Yeah, but that was on FaceTime, it's not the same. Come on, get undressed and we can get to it. I hope you're ready for cutting it open because I can't do that."

"Are you serious," Tony chuckled.

"Don't laugh at me! Just help."

No, Peter was obviously not serious. Cutting a pumpkin open was difficult, but he could've done it if he wanted to. But then he wouldn't have seen Tony roll up his sleeves and his biceps flex as he cut the pumpkin open, which would've been a shame. God, the man was so damn hot...

They cut the pumpkin and cooked it for a while for the filling while they made the pie crust together. It was such a great thing to do together, Peter enjoyed it, to be honest, more than he enjoyed their other dates. He loved cooking and spending time with Tony, mixing the two together only made things that much better.

"It says lightly floured hands, Tony," Peter yelled. "You don't have to take a handful of flour!"

"Oh I know what the recipe says, this isn't for the dough. I just thought maybe I could return that you ruined my favorite shirt last weekend." He wiggled his eyebrows while not taking his eyes off Peter.

"Nooo, no no no no, I said I was sorry!" But it was too late. His date threw the handful of flour at him, covering his shirt (he wasn't wearing an apron because he only had one and gave it to Tony, God damn it!) and even a little bit of his neck and chin.

"Yeah, that's what you get," Tony laughed wholeheartedly, his entire body shaking with his genuine laughter. It was adorable, honestly, and if Peter wasn't covered in flour, he would've smiled at how sweet Tony's laughter was.

"You're a meanie! That wine thing was an accident but this wasn't," he said like he meant it, but honestly, he was enjoying it a bit as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry my dear." The older man cupped his face with his floury hands and kissed him. Peter completely forgot about what happened for a minute, but then Tony's hand slipped into his hair, ruffling it so that the flour got everywhere.

They pulled away from the kiss, Tony grinning widely while Peter tried to mask his own smile and look angry. "White looks so good on you, baby."

"Oh yeah? Let's see it on you!" Peter reached into the flour bowl as well and the next thing Tony saw was him blowing the little white particles at him, he had just

enough time to close his eyes before they hit his face. "Aww, so amazing," the younger man laughed, rubbing the flour into his date's beard.

"You're so immature."

"You started this!"

While they fought over who was more childish, constantly throwing more and more flour at each other until there was barely any more left, they almost overcooked the pumpkin and they made no progress with the crust. Tony also told Peter that he was a terrible cook, which started out another playfight between them until they were wrestling on the dirty kitchen tiles, laughing and screaming as they fought for dominance. The older man ended up on top of Peter, straddling his hips while holding one of his wrists in each hand to stop him from fighting. Their laughter soon died off and Tony leaned down to kiss Peter, the kiss tasted like flour, but it didn't matter.

"I forget why I came here now," Tony joked.

"I wanted to bake a nice pie with my boyfriend, but nooo, you just had to ruin it," Peter said, laughing through the sentence and he wouldn't have noticed what he said if it wasn't for the smile on Tony's face changing into pure shock. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I- that was so wrong, I know we've only had two dates so far and we never even talked about where this whole thing was going. I'm sorry for being so forward, I wasn't thinking."

"You really think about me like that?" Tony's head tilted to the side slightly, like an adorable curious puppy's. And Peter would've commented on that if it wasn't for how nervous he felt at that moment. He swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"Well..."

"Because, you know, I've never... felt this way with anyone before." Tony finally let go of his wrists and scooted off his hips to sit on the tile, now Peter sitting up as well to face him.

"Me neither..."

"It's so weird, I mean, we really haven't spent much time together but this whole thing feels so... natural."

"It does, doesn't it?" He felt so relieved. He wasn't the only one feeling that way! "I mean, talking to you is just so easy and I really like it. You make me happy."

"You make me feel like I'm twenty-something again," Tony joked and Peter smiled slightly, pushing at the man's shoulder. "No, seriously now, you make me feel young, happy, whole. I have never ever felt that before with anyone, and you... like, this is literally our third date and look at us!"

Peter laughed out loud now. "Where are we going with all this, Tones?"

"I think... I think it's a bold move, but how about we just become official?"

"You mean like actual boyfriends?"

"Yeah! I mean, what could go wrong? We both want this and we seem to perfectly match!"

"It's kinda early though, aren't you scared?"

"Hella fucking scared. It's like bungee jumping off a cliff. But everyone who's been bungee jumping and didn't die say it was an amazing experience."

"And what if we die?"

"Then... we'll know not to bungee jump again."

Peter chuckled. "So... boyfriends?"

"Boyfriends." He crawled into Tony's lap and kissed him again, this time it lasted longer. Their first kiss as an actual couple, and it happened nowhere else, but on Peter's dirty kitchen tiles while they were both covered in flour and who knows what else. And the pie was long forgotten.

Tony invited Peter over to his house as well. He said he'd seen Peter's multiple times while Peter had never seen his. So Tony drove him over to the Stark Tower and they went all the way up to the penthouse at the top of the huge building. On their way, they ran into Pepper as well, who greeted Peter with a big smile and told him that Tony had said a lot about him already. Peter was happy and Tony was blushing, but no one saw that (Peter did see it).

When they got up to the penthouse, Peter's jaw dropped to the floor. The living room itself was bigger than Peter's whole apartment and probably just the furniture costed more than his rent.

"Wow, this place was probably a chick magnet," he noted as he walked through the living room.

"It was but it doesn't work anymore. Now I just use it to amaze beautiful doe-eyed teachers with it."

"Well, it fucking works. This place looks great, Tony!"

"I'm glad you like it." His boyfriend stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle. "You know, it's definitely bigger than your... cozy apartment. And it has a bed. A king sized one, actually, that can fit the two of us perfectly."

"What are you saying, babe?"

The older man started peppering kisses on Peter's shoulder and up his neck, making him shiver. "Well, you could spend some more time here, you know. It has a nice working area, a big kitchen where you can cook whatever you want, and I have Netfix, Hulu and Disney+. It's a real dream, you know."

"Tony, babe, this is very nice of you but what if Morgan will get confused? I mean, she already wants me to be her dad-"

The kisses stopped. "She does?"

Peter mentally smacked his own head. "Uh... she might've been saying things to me about that ever since you first asked me out."

"Wow. She never told me about that. I mean, she asked about how you were when I told her I met you again, but nothing about... that."

Peter turned around in Tony's arm to face the slightly taller man. "On the first day Eric came to pick her up, she was all gloomy because she said she wanted me to be her new dad. And she once gave me a drawing where he drew Pepper, herself and you and me."

"Well, maybe that's a sign then?"

He frowned. "What kind of sign would that be?"

"If Morgan likes you then we really were meant to be. If everything's going so smoothly then maybe the universe is trying to tell us that we belong together."

Peter smiled, leaning his head against Tony's chest. "I want this all, Tony. I really do. But I'm so scared something will go wrong," he whispered.

Tony pushed his chin up with his fingers to make Peter look into his beautiful dark brown eyes. "Let's not worry about the future just yet. Let yourself fall, baby, I'm here to catch you, okay?" Peter nodded, and Tony pulled him into a sweet, loving kiss.

The kiss turned into making out, and then soon enough, hands were roaming bodies and their kisses grew more and more hungry. Tony pulled Peter upstairs into the master bedroom where they settled on the king sized bed, clothes flying off and touches becoming bolder, until they were completely naked.

And they made love. It was amazing, better than any sex they've had before, it was sweet, sensual, passionate, loving, and their bodies fit together so perfectly. After reaching their climax together, they laid in each other's embrace for a while, breathing heavy as they recovered from such an amazing orgasm. And those three little words were so close to slipping from Peter's mouth, but he wasn't gonna say it. Not just yet. But someday.

Someday...

#starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #teacher x parent au #fluff #slightly nff #tony x peter #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #au #no powers au #teacher peter #single dad tony

[disgruntledkittenface]

Peanut butter filling!

hiii thank you!!

Peanut Butter Filling: share a snippet that really shows a character’s personality. (or: talk about an upcoming scene where their personality will shine!)

Okay, so what came to mind is super long, so it's below a cut! This is from when Louis comes to meet Harry's family for the first time and the gist is that he tries to take care of Harry, who's nervous, when actually he's nervous too and needs some taking care of!

chocolate themed wip ask game questions

send me one!

“So,” Louis says, as Harry exits the highway. “Are you nervous?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits, turning to look at Louis once he stops at a red light. “My parents can be a little… they have high standards, and they can be kind of blunt about it? My dad especially. And I want them to like you, and to be kind to you.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Louis says, reaching over to pet the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck peeking out of his knitted hat. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Meeting the parents,” Louis explains, looking out the car windows as they drive through Harry’s hometown. “I’ve never been this serious about someone I’ve dated.”

“Are you kidding? You’ve never done this before?” Harry glances sideways to see Louis shake his head. “Well, you know how I’ve always rushed things, I’ve done this way more times than I should have.”

“Any tips before we get there?”

“Um, yeah,” Harry says, chewing his lower lip as he thinks. “Okay. With Gemma, when she makes fun of you–”

“Don’t you mean if?”

“No, when,” Harry says, turning left when they reach an intersection. “When she makes fun of you, don’t just take it; you have to joke back. She’ll respect you for it.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“My mom is more of a softie than my dad, she just wants me to settle down, I think. She’s been studying up on Monaco, so expect a lot of questions about it, the history. She’ll probably ask about the university there.”

“Well, I happen to be an expert on Monaco, so that’s fine.”

“And my dad… he’s really big on propriety, like manners. He and my mom both taught at the same liberal arts college when I was growing up, and he’s been president there for ten years now, so he’s used to being in charge, not having people talk back. So even if he’s being rude, he’ll get really upset if he thinks someone is being rude back to him. It sucks trying to have, like, an actual dialogue with him.”

“That sounds hard,” Louis says softly, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s neck. “Luckily I have some experience working with difficult personalities like that. I’m not worried, darling, I’m really not.”

Harry pulls into the driveway and shuts off the ignition, turning to Louis. “Famous last words.”

The wind picks up as they get out of the car, shuffling the red and yellow leaves that have fallen to the ground, and they hurry as they grab Louis’ suitcase from the trunk and walk up to the house, which is owned by the college where Harry’s parents work. It’s larger than they need as a family, but one of the requirements of the job of college president is to entertain, and his parents make use of the space more frequently than Harry had expected when they moved in.

“Hello?” Harry calls out as he closes the door behind them. “We’re here!”

Harry’s mom rushes into the front hallway from the kitchen, trailed by Gemma, whose features are schooled in a disinterested expression. She can't hide the gleam in her eyes, though, and Harry can tell that she’s just as eager to meet Louis as their mom is.

“Mom, this is–”

“Oh, no, no,” she interrupts, waving her hands at Harry. “I’ve been reading about protocol; you’re supposed to present us to the prince, not the other way around.”

“Please, Mrs. Styles,” Louis starts, reaching out a hand. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’m not concerned with protocol while I’m a guest in your home. Well, that’s not strictly true, I am concerned with your house rules. Should I take my shoes off?”

“Oh, call me Anne,” she exclaims, her face lighting up as she shakes Louis’ hand. “I am delighted to meet you, Harry speaks so highly of you.” She seems to forget to let go of Louis’ hand, and he smiles patiently, raising his eyebrows. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, no, don’t worry about shoes or anything like that. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Gemma makes a scoffing sound behind her. “But you always yell at us–”

“And this is my daughter Gemma,” Anne says loudly, finally releasing Louis’ hand to gesture behind her. “Say hello, Gemma.”

The predictable monotone “Hello, Gemma,” is followed by her stepping forward to offer her hand to Louis, which he accepts, laughing.

“Harry, do you think you could offer to take his coat?” Anne looks meaningfully from Harry to Louis and back again. “Honestly, Your Highness, you’d think they were raised by wolves. We did our best with them, I swear.”

“Please, call me Louis,” Louis says, shrugging off his coat and handing it to Harry. “There’s no need for titles. I’m afraid I’ve already inconvenienced you enough, what with the security requirements.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Anne says, her tone sugar sweet in the way it only is when she’s lying through her teeth. It had been obvious that she’d been more than a little freaked out when two guards had done a sweep of the house and grounds earlier that day, something the head of palace security had called to arrange in advance. “We’re just so happy to have you here. Harry’s been on pins and needles all day, waiting to go pick you up.”

“Mom, quit it,” Harry groans in his best impression of a moody teenager. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” Gemma remarks. “Wait ’til she gets out the photo albums.”

“I’m afraid that will have to wait,” Anne says, looking genuinely regretful. “Harry, why don’t you show Louis to his room? Your father will be home with pizza soon.” She smiles apologetically at Louis. “Family tradition. We put all of our energy into cooking Thanksgiving dinner, so we always get takeout the night before.”

“Oh, it will be a treat for me,” Louis assures her. “I rarely get to eat pizza, and I love it.”

Gemma snorts. “Harry, you didn’t tell us your boyfriend was such a suckup.”

“Gemma Anne Styles,” Anne hisses, swatting her with a dish cloth. “Kitchen. Now.”

“Alright, alright,” Gemma says, holding her hands up in surrender as Anne herds her back down the hallway to the kitchen, leaving Harry and Louis alone.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Louis whispers, stepping into Harry’s space and resting his hands lightly on Harry’s hips. “Come here, give us a kiss.”

“Us?” Harry raises his eyebrows.

“Sure you’ve heard of the royal we, darling,” Louis murmurs, leaning in and kissing Harry softly. Harry forgets to banter back as he melts into the kiss, their first since Louis arrived since neither of them wanted it to be in front of the crowd at the train station. It’s the little bit of tenderness that he needs to get through the family dinner ahead, and he only pulls away because he doesn’t want his dad to walk in on them. Louis smiles like he knows exactly what Harry is thinking. “Well, Harold? Lead the way.”

The guest room in the basement is more like a suite; the bedroom has a queen-size bed, and there’s a full bathroom as well as a tiny kitchenette. It only takes a minute or so to show Louis around and point out the best feature, in his opinion: the coffeemaker. Harry drapes himself on the bed as Louis unpacks, actually putting stacks of clothes into the small dresser as opposed to living out of his suitcase for the duration of his stay like Harry usually does when he comes home.

“We should get back upstairs,” Louis says as he slides his empty suitcase under the bed. “I want to make a good impression on your father when he gets home.”

“Well, you definitely chose the right outfit,” Harry replies, standing up and running his palms over Louis’ chest. “It’s like you used a stylist, or a costume designer picked out the perfect sweater for a coming home to meet the parents scene in a movie.”

For the first time since he’s known him, Louis actually blushes.

“I, ah… may have had some help,” Louis admits. “From a stylist.”

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, unable to stop the grin forming on his face. “You have a stylist? You’ve never mentioned a stylist before.”

“Well, it’s not like he dresses me every day,” Louis says, smoothing a hand over his sweater. “But yes, I have a stylist. Zayn. We meet every few months and go through my closet, and he shops for me and makes recommendations for special occasions.”

“Special occasions like going to Buckingham Palace…” Harry can’t help smirking. “Or special occasions like meeting my parents?”

“Special occasions like both,” Louis says, burying his face in his hands. He mumbles something that Harry can��t quite make out, so he gently pries Louis’ hands away, lifting his eyebrows. Louis shrugs. “I wanted this weekend to go well.”

“I love you.” Harry kisses Louis before pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry for teasing, you’re just so cute, Lou.”

“Lots of people have stylists,” Louis mutters, grasping Harry’s sweatshirt in his hands as he hugs him back. “You have a stylist.”

“I know, honey, I know,” Harry says, holding Louis tight and swaying slightly. “You know, knowing that you’re nervous too actually makes me feel better.”

“Really?”

“Really. You don’t always have to be the strong one, you know. We can lean on each other.”

“Well, that’s… that’s very nice of you to say,” Louis mumbles, pulling back. “Can we go upstairs now? I don’t know why but it feels like bad form to be down here when your father gets home.”

“Of course, Lou, let’s go up.”

#chocolate themed wip ask game questions #grace kelly au

[holidaywishes]

sometimes i hate hockey...

part ten: sometimes i hate hockey...

  Summary: You and Freddie are married but before you can take a honeymoon, the season is announced and Freddie is dragged back to work. Leaving you alone again and you start to go a little stir crazy

  Warning: just some fluff

  Author’s Note: Three more chapters, y’all. I made the decision to end this series at 13 chapters because it’s 31 backwards and my lucky number and because I’m ending my Gally series at 11 chapters so this seemed right. This one is gonna be super short and I’m hoping there’s a bit more angst in the next chapter so I can resolve it all in the last chapter but we’ll have to see! My asks are always open, my inbox is always open, if you have requests but keep in mind, I’m not working on any requests until February because I’m trying to finish up these few series that I have going at the moment. That includes this series, my Gally series, my OBX series, my Teen Wolf series, my 9-1-1 series, possibly my Hunger Games series and my Peter Pan series. I also have a few other thoughts running around in my head for a couple imagines so those will be written first. I hope you enjoy the rest of this series and everything else that comes out :D Stay Golden, Loves! ❤️

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  You were living in complete newlywed bliss, for three days, and then the world seemed to call you and Freddie back to reality.

  “Freddie,” you whined, “why do you have to go back now?”

  “Babe, the series starts in a couple weeks. You know the routine...” he replied

  “Couldn’t you just tell them you needed two weeks so we could have a honeymoon...”

  “Things happened pretty quickly,” he countered, “we didn’t even think we’d have a season and--”

  “And now that you do, you have to jump on it. Yeah I know...” you interrupted, picking your daughter up from her playpen

  “Look, (Y/N),” he sighed, “I want to be here too, with you, on some kind of Pandemic-safe honeymoon. But I have to work...”

  “I know just.. come back to me please?”

  “I’ll always come back to you,” he smiled before kissing your lips gently, “you’re home.” Not long after the season started and you were left alone with Vita, you began to feel like this was all your relationship with Freddie was going to be -- just you at home with the kids while you waited for him to come back. You were lucky enough to be one of the few that still had a job amidst the pandemic but that just meant you were working from home; having a one year old daughter made that a lot more difficult than you ever would have thought. You had a few people come visit you so you didn’t go completely stir crazy but when Stephanie stopped by, you unloaded onto her

  “I know that this is what we signed up for,” you started, “but I don’t know... I guess I never thought I’d be a mom or a wife, married to a professional hockey player...”

  “To be honest,” Stephanie smiled, “I never thought Mitch and I would make it this far. It’s tough and we have to work on it all the time but I wouldn’t trade him for one second of normality”

  “I don’t think I would either but I mean, if I’m being honest, sometimes I really hate Hockey.” The two of you laughed as you turned the channel so you could watch the game

  “Girl,” Steph smirked, “you have no idea.” You watched the game in between checking on Vita and sipping on a glass of white wine, clutching a pillow in front of you when you felt nervous and throwing a blanket off your body when the opposing team scored. Steph stayed as long as she could before she decided that she should probably get home before Mitch saw that she wasn’t there

  “Let’s catch up again soon, okay?” you replied as you gave her a hug and she agreed before walking out to her car. You sighed and went back inside to your sleeping daughter, hoping that something would come up in the coming weeks to keep you busy and entertained but preparing for the very real possibility that nothing would.

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You could feel (Y/N) getting more and more annoyed being home alone with Vita, especially while the pandemic was still very present in everyone’s lives

  “I think we need a dog...” you said while you, (Y/N) and Vita sat on the living room floor

  “What?” (Y/N) scoffed

  “It’s time don’t you think? We’ve lived together for a long time, we’re married, we have a baby,” you explained, “a puppy just seems very appropriate”

  “You don’t get a puppy because its ‘appropriate’ Freddie,” she smiled, using finger quotes to further her point, “you get a puppy because you want a puppy and you’re ready for a puppy.”

  “Well,” you smirked, “I think we’re ready!”

  “You’re not even here half the time!” she exclaimed with a small giggle, “I don’t have the time or ability to take care of a puppy and train a puppy while still being a full time mom to this little one.” She gestured to Vita before tickling her stomach and smiling while you continued the conversation

  “I’ll totally be here to help!”

  “Oh yeah?” she scoffed as she picked up Vita and started toward Vita’s bedroom, “what about all the early morning practices and the month long road trips?”

  “Month long road trips rarely happen...” you replied

  “That’s not the point, Fred!” she huffed, setting your daughter in her crib, “The point is that we have a one year old daughter and you’re barely here enough to spend time with her as it is. Adding a puppy to the mix puts a lot of pressure and stress on me that I don’t know if I can handle.” The two of you quietly walked out of the room once it seemed like Vita was down

  “I just think having a puppy would be so good for Vita and for us” you confessed

  “I do, too,” she smiled, resting her hand on your cheek, “maybe when she’s a little older, okay?”

  “Okay” you smirked as you took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers

  “I do want you to be able to spend time with Vita, too, before we get a dog” she added

  “I do spend time with her” you said, confused at what she meant

  “I know you do, I don’t mean it like that,” she corrected, “I just mean that I want her to know you and not just recognize you. I don’t want us to be those parents that just buy things for their kid when they don’t have time to spend”

  “I agree!”

  “Good!” she laughed, “then let’s focus on that, focus on her, before we make any big moves about anything else okay?” You only nodded in response, leaning against the kitchen counter so she was face to face with you and she kissed your nose to lighten the mood

  “Sometimes I really hate my job...” you said quietly

  “What do you mean?” she cooed as she wrapped her arms around your neck and you picked her up to carry her to the couch

  “I hate being away from you all the time, I always have,” you admitted, kissing her nose as she had a second before, “but now I have to be away from my daughter? Sometimes it just really sucks...”

  “But when you come home to us, you’re so grateful and we’re so grateful and it’s so worth it”

  “I don’t know,” you continued, pulling her onto your lap and planting your hands on her hips, “sometimes I just hate hockey...” She giggled at your confession and you furrowed your brow at the reaction, “What? What’s so funny?” you asked, slowly moving your hands up her body to tickle her sides

  “I said the exact same thing to Steph a little while ago,” she smirked, “so I guess great minds think alike.”

  “Seems like it” you smiled, moving closer to her to press a soft kiss to her neck

  “This makes it all worth it though” she moaned into your touch

  “What does?” you said, dumbly

  “The feel of your lips against my skin, your hands on my hips and your body pressed against mine,” she whispered, “it’s all worth it”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world” she smirked, her hands moving to the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head and quickly connect her lips with yours when the fabric moved past your face

  “Oh, yeah,” you laughed, pulling her body closer to yours, “I’d take this any day of the week.” She let out a small squeal as you flipped her so she was lying on the couch, pulling you in by your gold chain and capturing your lips in a soft kiss. This was, most definitely, worth it all.

#all my series #gally series #Brendan Gallagher Series #9-1-1 series #Teen Wolf Series #Frederik Andersen series #Freddie Andersen #frederik andersen #OBX series #Peter Pan series #Hunger Games series #Outer Banks series #JJ Maybank series #Evan Buckley #Evan Buckley series

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

okay here me out but high school!spn would be hilarious because, y'know, there's the 3 winchester (yes adam is there) and horrible dad john winchester. obivously, mary is dead which is why john in horrible.

BUT, other than the winchesters, there's also the angels, which everyone is also deadass confused about because they're's like 30 of them?? and apparently they're all related, all adopted by birth except the 4 eldest. and the very oldest, michael, raises them, which nobody knows if it's legal or not, but everybody's too afraid to say something.

And, of course, they're's the demons, who are like a bunch of kids who live at an orphanage and hate the angels.

okay that was long and really just me rambling

what i heard was “the angels are like the cullens” and michael is like. very fuck you to any high schooler who brings it up.

also, Michael either looks JUST like that Adam kid OR he looks like apocalypse!michael because that guy was cute and i liked him

OK BUT. HEAR ME OUT.

Mary is NOT dead, but she and John are divorced because John had an affair with Kate Milligan (Adam’s mom) and neither woman knew about the other until Adam’s like. Five or something?

At first Mary and Kate HATE each other, look at that Scheming Conniving Whore who is the Reason I Can’t Have My Man, but then they realize it’s JOHN’S FAULT, and they should unite against the Common Enemy. John has no idea. So the divorce goes through and he’s like, hey Kate can I come stay with you and Adam :) and Kate’s all, actually, you can get fucked, I’m taking my friend out for a celebratory drink, her divorce got finalized.

They’re each a margarita into the night when Mary goes “this is like a date! hah ha just kidding! unless...?”

IT’S NOT A JOKE THEY DATE AND GET MARRIED/CIVIL UNIONED/PARTNERED/SUE THE STATE OF KANSAS and John is just sitting over there, a jackass.

Kate’s a nurse, so she can pretty much support the family because Mary wants to go back to school! And get advanced degrees in like. Mythology or folklore. Idk if Mary went to college in canon? Anyway she’s a farm girl, (for some reason in my head “a family of monster hunters” translates to normal universe as “family farm” idk idk) so maybe she gets some fancy agriculture degrees or becomes a conservationist (Sam being a National Parks nerd??? yes please. he’d sit and help Mary study and he’s been known to hijack tours from Park Rangers but he’s so earnest it’s hard to be mad at him)

they have a crazy amazing garden (adhd!dean helping his mom in the garden??? yes). Mary teaching self-defense classes! Kate teaching the boys advanced first aid! And regretting it! No, Dean, just because you CAN sew up your brother’s wound doesn’t mean you should! 

Dean trying to teach Adam and Sam to shave because “i’m the man of the family” and Kate saying “oh sweetie, I’m the man of the family. you get to be a kid of the family, ok?” because let Dean be a child, please, and also, now none of these children understand gender and it’s WONDERFUL. (Adam is the only full time he/him in the house and as much as Dean protects his little brothers, Adam has been known to punch a transphobe or two.

Adam: it’s called DIRECT ACTION, Principal Amara!)

I want to say there’s still a house fire when Sammy’s a baby, but obvs Mary doesn’t die, she just has severe burns? (makes John cheating even MORE of a douche thing but idk) anyway this plus Kate being a nurse, I could see Adam being into physical therapy or counseling or something when he gets older?

also random thought but Mary and Kate host the BEST halloween parties. they go all out. Their best costume so far is Harley/Ivy.

I KEEP FORGETTING WHERE I’M GOING WITH THIS

This means Mary’s the one who knows Bobby (and his husband Rufus) via hunting and Gay Advocacy and their extensive collection of rare texts that are tangentially related to Mary’s work somehow

Mary and Kate become big advocates for legalization of sex work.

the Angel Kids family are from a SUPER religious upbringing. obviously. probably. more like a cult honestly. Cas and Anna straight-up ran away when they were 13 ish. They MIGHT have convinced their dad to sign some papers when he was drunk which is how they were able to get emancipated. Sort of?

They track down their older brother Gabe, who left the family as soon as he was old enough to strike out on his own, but once Anna and Cas leave, all their other siblings sort of come trailing after them (Balthazar first) to find them and take care of them, so Gabe all of the sudden goes from livin the single life to co-parenting twenty siblings with his OTHER siblings, who he can’t STAND and he somehow became the Rules Parent because Luci isn’t going to enforce shit! That asshole! When Uriel finally gets out Gabe is like thank fuck I’m leaving now. When Michael finally gets to them, Gabe is in Shock. “Holy fuck, what did dad DO that was bad enough to make YOU leave?? dude???”

(I want Gabe and the Archangel Brigade to be in their late 20s/early 30s when Cas and Co. are in high school because Gabe absolutely works in porn. Michael gets all self-righteous with him and Gabe glares. “First of all. This is my house, so, you know, fuck off. Second of all, are you going to support this family? No? Yes? With what? the last job you had was CO-LEADING A CULT.” Uriel is working as an electrician while taking meteorology courses.)

who is in charge of the Demon Kids? Rowena or Lilith, maybe? or CAIN. CAIN!!!

The Harvelles absolutely make an appearance. I’m tempted to say that Mary and Kate look at Ellen and go “her. we want her” and it’s a band of badass women and their badass children.

it’s VERY important to me that Dean is a theatre nerd. VERY IMPORTANT. He and Sam might play basketball just because of their height, but I don’t know that they enjoy it that much. Sam’s more of a lacrosse or soccer guy. Adam’s into hockey (little rage monsters that they are) 

idk it depends on ships that you want? Because high school age Crowley being Dean’s Bad Boy Boyfriend is pretty primo comedy, imo, and you would work in the Leviathans as a rival high school or even as new kids? And of course Michael/Adam Sam/Lucifer don’t work in a hs au with the archangels aged up the way I have? You could have the Older Sibling Angels Be Gabe, Balthazar, and Naomi, with Naomi being the one leaves last, who was helping Chuck with his cult (which leaves more room for Michael to be a himbo)

for the record I’m not OPPOSED to a John is a Good Dad AU. I just like AUs where I can Unfridge All the Women

WOW i had a lot of feelings about this. oops. 

#frack-no #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #mary winchester #adam milligan #kate milligan #bobby singer #my stuff #you've got questions i've got answers #a LOT of answers apparently oops #me @ me bitch go to bed #you know mary and kate would be MENACES on social media #adam introduces them to tiktok and it's just meme after meme after meme

[brokcnbutunbowcd]

she laughs like god (her mind’s like a diamond) chapter 2

Alright, Chapter Two is up! Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos, commented, and bookmarked, it means the world to me! Just a quick note: this follows the events of Batman: Year One, but some liberties have been taken (like aging up James Gordon, Jr. for example. The dates are also going to be a but different, and the timeline will be condensed, with the events taking place over seven or eight months as opposed to a full year. This just helps keep my timeline straight, as I have big plans for this story! I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to comment, it really does make my day! Link to AO3 is at the bottom!

The ride to the Manor was spent in silence. One of the officers had packed a bag with an assortment of things from the girl’s room, with a promise that they’d be able to come back for the rest once the crime scene had been cleared. The Social Service worker had loaned Bruce an extra car seat, and he’d been able to figure out how to install it with minimal fuss. As they got further and further out of the heart of the city and closer to the Manor, Bruce couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was doing. He knew nothing about caring for a child. He was about to embark on a mission that would very likely get him killed. This was the absolute last thing he should be doing.

But Leslie had asked. Leslie, whom he owed more than anyone else, save Alfred. “Please, Bruce, do this for me,” she’d said.

And how was he supposed to refuse that?

As they pulled up to the long gravel drive of Wayne Manor, Bruce took another glance in the rearview mirror at Meda. She was no longer shaking or crying, and he figured that the shock had finally set in. He quickly got out of the car and opened her door for her, helping her out of the car seat and grabbing her bag from the seat beside her. He watched as she got her first good look at the mansion, her eyes popping wide and her jaw dropping open.

“This is where you live?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. Mistaking her awe for fear, he said gently, “Don’t be afraid.”

She looked at him, tilted her chin up defiantly. “I’m not afraid.”

“Alright.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s introduce you to Alfred.”

“Who’s Alfred?”

The man in question was standing in the doorway waiting for them as Bruce led Meda up the steps. Thinking over the question, he told her, “He’s the man who raised me after my parents died.” Alfred’s job would become clear to her later, but for now he settled on the most important truth. “He’ll help take care of you.”

As they approached the doorway, Alfred gave them both a welcoming smile. “Ah, Master Bruce, welcome home. It certainly has been an exciting first day back, hasn’t it?” He turned his attention to the little girl beside Bruce. “And this must be Miss Meda!”

Meda nodded. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, sticking out her little hand for a shake. Alfred took it gently and smiled warmly.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss.” Straightening up, he turned to Bruce. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing one of the guest rooms for this young lady.” He reached out to take the duffel bag from Bruce. “I’ll see to unpacking this as well, while you and our guest warm yourselves by the fire.” With that, he swept up the grand staircase to the second floor and out of sight.

Bruce gingerly took Meda by the hand and led her into the parlor where Alfred had stoked the fire. She slumped down on one of the sofas, clearly exhausted, but perked up when she seemed to remember something.

“Why does he call you Master Bruce?”

Clearing his throat, he decided that honesty was probably the best policy. “Alfred is also the family butler.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’ve never met anyone who had a butler before.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t have to call me Miss Meda, you know. Just Meda is fine.”

Bruce smiled. “I think you’ll have a hard time convincing him of that. Alfred has always been very formal, you see.” She nodded. Her eyes scanned the room curiously, taking in the opulence and decadence, the dark polished wood and the cool marble of the fireplace. Finally, she looked to the photograph hanging above the mantle.

“Are those your parents?”

Bruce took a moment to examine the photo, as well. His eight-year-old self stared back at him, grinning happily. His mother and father stood behind him, each with a hand on his shoulder, each beaming with pride. “Yes.”

Meda hummed in acknowledgment. “They look nice.”

“They were,” he said, that pang in his chest back again. “My father was a doctor. My mother did charity work. They were both very good people.”

She sighed. “My parents were very good people, too. The best people. And now they’re gone.” She didn’t sound like she was about to cry again, just empty. Just broken.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts before finally saying, “You know, Meda, someone once told me that no one’s ever truly gone unless you forget about them. You won’t forget about your parents, will you?” She shook her head furiously. “Then as long as you’re here, they will be too. I promise. It’s been almost twenty years, and my parents are still with me. Every day.” And yes, he probably took that to the extreme, with his plan for Gotham and its future, but the sentiment remained all the same.

Meda seemed to contemplate this for a while before Alfred re-entered the room. “Miss Meda’s things have been unpacked and her room is ready for her.”

Bruce nodded. “Thank you, Alfred. I'll show Meda to her room.”

“Very good, sir.”

Standing, he held out a hand to her and waited for her to take it. This time, she gripped his own with a little more force. As they made their way up the stairs and down the long hallway where that led to the bedrooms, her eyes never stopped darting about, taking in all the excess of the Manor with wide eyes. Bruce didn’t blame her. Even he was taken aback by it, sometimes.

Alfred had left the door to the chosen guest room open and left the light on, probably for Meda’s comfort. “Here you are,” Bruce said as they stepped in front of the threshold. Seeing the look of trepidation on her face, Bruce said again, “Don’t be afraid.”

She whipped her head up to stare at him. “Stop saying that,” she commanded.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Okay.”

With that, she took one last look at him before entering the room and closing the door behind her. ______________________________________________________________________________ Meda stared in shock at the room in front of her. It was bigger than her whole apartment back home, and she didn’t know how she was supposed to climb up onto the canopied bed. There was a window seat, which she had always wanted, and the walls were a pale purple. The largest TV she’d ever seen was set against the far wall.

Alfred had laid out her pajamas on the bed, and as she changed, she ran her hands over the pretty silver sheets. When she was done, she struggled for a moment to climb onto the bed, but eventually made it. Pulling back the covers, she nestled into the bed and curled up comfortably.

She thought that she would be kept awake, by thoughts of her parents, by worries over the new strangers in her life, by the sound of the wind howling in the trees outside her window. In the end, the day’s events proved so exhausting that as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.

It was the last night she’d sleep peacefully for a long time. ______________________________________________________________________________

When she awoke the next morning, sunlight was shining through her window, and it took her a moment to realize where she was. The previous day’s events came rushing back to her in a flood of memories. She fought back the tears that formed and refused to cry. She’d cried enough yesterday, all over poor Lieutenant Gordon. If they thought she was a crybaby, then Mr. Wayne and Alfred might not want her to stick around. Besides, her mom had always said she was a brave girl. She wouldn’t let her down now.

The smell of something cooking penetrated her cocoon of blankets, and Meda peeked her head out. She thought about waiting for someone to come get her, but curiosity got the best of her, and she followed the scent down the hall and down a staircase (different from the grand one that had led up from the entryway) into a kitchen. It was the largest kitchen she’d ever seen, and looked like it could cook enough food for several hundred people, maybe even a thousand. At one of the stovetops with an apron on was Alfred. He was pouring batter into a pan and already had a stack of pancakes next to him on a plate. Mr. Wayne was sitting at the counter in the middle of the room, reading a newspaper.

He looked up when she entered the room. “Ah, Meda!” he said, and she thought he sounded pleased to see her. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

Alfred turned to smile at her. “Good morning, Miss Meda. I hope you like chocolate chip pancakes.”

Meda gasped. “Those are my favorite!”

“Are they?” Alfred raised a brow. “How wonderful. You just pull up a seat next to Master Bruce there and I’ll have these ready for you in a moment.”

She climbed up onto the chair at the counter next to Bruce. Turning to her, he asked, “Did you sleep well?” She nodded. “Good.” Putting his paper down, he turned to her more fully and said gently, “I got a call from Mrs. Parker at Social Services. Some of your parents’ friends from high school have offered to help plan the funeral, but they were hoping to get your input. You know, to help pick out what songs they’ll play and what type of flowers they should have. Does that sound like something you’d be up to?” When she hesitated, he quickly said, “There’s no rush. You don’t have to meet with them today. Would you like to think about it?” She nodded, and he smiled. “Take all the time you need.”

Alfred was finished with the pancakes by then, and placed them on a plate in front of her. Stacked high and drizzled with syrup, the sight of them made Meda’s mouth water. Grabbing her fork and knife, she started to dig in, before remembering herself. “Thank you very much, Alfred.” She then popped a piece of pancake in her mouth and chewed greedily.

Bruce looked amused. “Don’t need any help cutting those, huh?”

Meda shook her head vigorously. “Daddy taught me how to do it. He says that you can come from dirt, but if you know how to eat right, people will never know it.”

“He sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s the smartest man in the world.” She paused, then corrected in a small voice, “Was. He was the smartest man in the world.”

Alfred smiled sadly and said, “He’d be very proud of you Miss Meda. Your table manners are better than Master Bruce’s by far. He eats like an animal, this one.” Bruce gave Alfred a pointed look, but stopped when he heard Meda start to giggle.

Wiping off his hands on a dish towel, Alfred then said, “When you’re done, Miss, why don’t we take a tour of the rest of the house. You didn’t get to see much of it last night, and besides, it’s far more beautiful in the daytime.” Meda beamed and nodded, before turning to Bruce with a confused look.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Mr. Wayne?” she asked between mouthfuls (she remembered her manners, after all).

“Just call me Bruce, Meda, please. And I already ate. I’m on a bit of a...special diet, you see.” He gave her a close-lipped smile, and she had a funny feeling that he wasn’t saying something important, but she didn’t want to be rude by asking so she stayed quiet and finished her pancakes.

When she was done, she was so full that she swore she’d never eat another bite. Bruce had chuckled at this, saying, “You say that now, but just wait until you get a taste of Alfred’s lasagna. You’ll find room, trust me.” Alfred had just winked at her. ______________________________________________________________________________

It had been a long time since Alfred Pennyworth had had anyone to cook for, and in just one day, he’d received not one, but two charges to look after, and he intended to take his duties seriously. His father had served the Wayne’s before him, and their families would be forever linked. Master Bruce wasn’t the only one with a legacy to protect, after all.

His youngest charge seemed just as taken with the Manor as any child would be, fascinated by the seemingly never-ending corridors lined with doors that opened to all different types of rooms. She gaped at the indoor swimming pool, the game room, the movie theater.

But it was his favorite room that received the largest reaction. The library. A massive room lined with bookshelves several stories high, with tables and couches for reading or relaxing and artifacts from all over the world.

“I’ve never seen so many books in my life!” she declared, and Alfred suppressed a chuckle, refraining from pointing out that given her life had only spanned half a decade so far, it was likely there were many things she’d not seen.

Children did not like to be reminded of their inexperience, he’d found.

She turned to Bruce with wide eyes. “Have you read all of them?”

Bruce laughed. “Not quite. I’m afraid there’s more books here than even I could read in a lifetime. You like to read?” Meda nodded.

“I was the first one in my class to start chapter books,” she announced proudly. “Do you have Charlotte’s Web?”

“Of course,” Alfred said, moving to the section of the library that held children’s books. It was the smallest section, but still likely larger than any school library in the country. He scanned the titles for a moment, before selecting a small book with a girl holding a pig on the cover. “This was one of Master Bruce’s favorites when he was a young boy,” he said, handing it to her.

“It’s one of my favorites, too,” she said quietly, looking down at the cover. “Mrs. Jones was reading it to us before Christmas break, but I got a copy from the library and read ahead to finish it. I had to give it back before break, though.”

“Well,” Bruce said. “Feel free to keep this one as long as you like.”

Meda’s eyes widened again. “Really? You mean it?”

“I really mean it,” Bruce replied, smiling.

The little girl squealed in delight and rushed forward to hug Bruce, who stiffened in surprise. Alfred had to stifle a laugh again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Meda cried. Bruce relaxed after a moment, patting the child on the back gently.

“You’re very welcome, Meda,” he replied softly. ______________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, after Meda had gone to bed, Bruce and Alfred sat in one of the sitting rooms, both contemplating the child sleeping upstairs. Alfred was personally hoping that this new responsibility would encourage Bruce to leave off his mad idea and settle down to a quieter, simpler life. Bruce was already thinking of ways to make sure the danger of his chosen crusade didn’t harm Meda.

“She seems to be settling in rather well, sir,” Alfred said, pouring a cup of tea for himself.

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement. “She’s still in shock. It’ll wear off eventually, and then she’ll start to spiral. The social worker gave me a number for a psychologist. We should make sure she gets in soon.”

“How uncharacteristically reasonable of you, sir,” Alfred said dryly.

Bruce ignored him. “I need-” He was cut off by a blood curdling scream.

The men looked at each other for a split second, before they both sprung into action. Alfred moved to retrieve one of his firearms from a safe behind a photograph on the wall, while Bruce took off in a run towards Meda’s room.

Throwing open the door the second he reached it, his eyes frantically scanned the room for a threat, but found nothing. Moving his gaze over to the bed, he saw Meda thrashing in the sheets, eyes squeezed shut and screaming.

A nightmare.

Bruce’s stance softened and he moved towards the bed, slowly, carefully. “Meda,” he said, reaching for her shoulder to gentle her awake. “Meda!” Her eyes flew open and with one last cry of despair, she bolted upright in bed and stared at him.

She stared at him for a moment, breathing heavily, and then burst into tears.

Bruce was at a loss for what to do for a moment, before deciding to go on instinct and pull the little girl to his chest, letting her cry into his shoulder. He murmured nonsense to her, telling her everything would be okay and not to be afraid. That seemed to stir something in her, and she pulled back with a yelp.

“But I am afraid,” she cried, wiping at her tears. “I’m so afraid. I’m afraid that they won’t find the bad man, and that he’ll come back for me or you or Alfred.”

Bruce was silent for a minute, before taking her hands in his and saying urgently, “Meda, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that for me?” When she nodded, he continued on, “I have spent a very long time training for something very important. I’m going to make sure that what happened to our families never happens to anyone else again.”

“How can you do that?”

“I have a mission,” he said, willing her to understand. “A purpose. I made a promise to my parents that I would rid this city of the evil that took their lives. I was too late for your family, and for that I’m so sorry. But I won’t be too late for the next one. Do you understand?”

Warily, she nodded. “I think so.”

Sighing in relief, he went on, “I need you to promise to keep this a secret.” He realized he was a fool for placing the secrecy of his mission in the hands of one five year old girl, but he had to say something. He had to show her that she didn’t have to be afraid. “If other people knew about this, they would try to stop me, or they would try to go after you or Alfred to get to me. It’s very, very important that you never tell anyone about what I’ve just told you, do you understand?” She nodded again, looking at him strangely. “What is it?”

“It’s just-” she cut herself off, biting her lip. “I was just wondering if I could help you. With your mission, I mean.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, to insist that she needn’t worry at all about that, when an idea struck him.

“Actually, Meda, I think there might be a way that you can.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648013/chapters/73343064#workskin

#batman fanfiction #batman oc #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily oc #c: meda wayne #v: the vigilante

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 62

Warnings: none

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

  She stands on the patio area; where terracotta and highly polished stone and faux games of various colours -laid out in intricate patterns- meet rich, luscious green grass. A fussy and cranky Addie lying along on arm and a hand over her eyes; shielding them from the bright, powerful sun as she watches TJ and Millie -supervised by their uncle- entertain themselves on the elaborate wooden playground.  Their exuberant and lively conversation floats on the breeze, accompanied by their giggles and occasional bickering; Millie successfully teaching Saju how to climb the stairs to the slide and slip down it. Less than a hundred feet avail one of the handful of nannies -Diya, an elderly woman who had helped raised both Anil and Saju and speaks both Hindi and Bengali but very little English- keeps a firm on hold on the back of Declan’s shirt as he crouches dangerously low to one of the many ponds; attempting to get a better look at turtles and frogs.

The three of them are settling in well; random tearful moments of missing home and school and their daddy, yet making the best of the situation. Always finding something to do to keep themselves busy and always managing to laugh and smile despite the tremendous changes to their young lives. TJ and Millie are especially adept at accepting new challenges; never struggling with transitions or upsets to their daily routines, simply taking things as they come and ‘rolling with the punches’.  Rarely paying attention to the heavily armed guards that continuously patrol the perimeter and line the roof of the house. Their nerves don’t seem frazzled by the open display of weapons; never asking questions regarding just who these men are and why they’re always watching them.

Tanner is an entirely different story. He’s always struggled with change; becoming incredibly anxious with even the slightest tweak to his usual routine.  Seeking comfort in familiar surroundings and finding it in sights, smells, and sounds. Needing advanced warnings before switching from one activity to the other; a sudden, abrupt change enough to bring on frayed nerves, irritable behaviour, stomach issues, and even tears. He’s easily overwhelmed by new and unfamiliar situations and is easily annoyed by crowds of people and too much noise  or activity going on around him. He loves his version of normalcy; the same faces and voices surrounding him, the comforts of home with his own belongings and the sound and the smell of the ocean. And while he loves his siblings and shares an enormous, powerful bond with his twin brother and doesn’t shy away from playing with the others or sharing in adventures, he’s happiest when left alone; comfortable and content doing the things he loves.

It would be easy to force  him to be more  like brother and sister. To just throw him into sports as opposed to always having his nose stuck in books or engrossed in school work. To be more ‘kid like’  and pursue being a social butterfly instead of secluding himself.  And while they encourage him to at least try and broaden his horizons and to experience new things and attempt to join in the fun that his siblings are having, they refuse to push him out of his comfort zone. Both had had parents that weren’t happy with how they acted or behaved and had been forced into becoming entirely different versions of themselves.  Made to ‘fit in’ by society’s standards instead of being encouraged to be who they were meant to be. And they adamantly refuse to do that to their own children; knowing too well the kind of temporary anguish and long term negative effects that are inflicted when you’re forced to be something and someone you’re not.

He lounges under one of the many trees that form a border around the yard. Using a dozing and complacent Mac as support for his back; bare feet dug into the grass and his knees bent, impossibly thick and heavy hardcover novel resting on his thighs. Those wayward locks of hair falling across his forehead; brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration. A facial expression identical to one she's seen many times in the course of nearly seven years.

Satisfied with the level of safety and security being provided to her other children, Esme moves a whimpering and grumpy Addie to her chest -a hand on the back of her head when the baby immediately nestles her face into her shoulder- and journeys over to where Tanner sits.

“What are you doing, nugget?” she inquires. “You look pretty comfy.”

“Just relaxing,” he replies without looking up. “Reading some.”

“You don’t want to go play with your brother and sister? Maybe go swimming? Or go and see the animals?”  She often wonders if he’s lonely during his frequent moments of solitude.  Unable to stop herself from worrying that he is. That he’s somehow missing out on his childhood even though he’s always expressed just how happy he is doing what he loves, not what others expect him to do.

“No, I’m happy where I am,” Tanner says. “Mac’s keeping me company. Besides. I’m kinda tired today. I did lots yesterday. And the day before. I just want to hang out.”

It’s easy to forget that he’s only five. So well spoken for someone so young; words always coming so easily to him and his tone always low and calm and his face and eyes so serious. Phenomenally intelligent and intuitive. And sensitive to a fault; always worrying about things that are way behind his years. Like his father in so many ways; allowing very few people to get close to him but fiercely protective of those who ‘make the cut’. Loving so deeply and so profoundly. Traits that his father successfully manages to hide from just about everyone, but Tanner is so open and honest about.

“What are you reading?” Esme asks, as she sinks down onto the grass beside him, stretching out her legs and laying Addie along her thighs.

“Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You’re reading a Harry Potter book?”

Tanner nods.

“You’re five.”

He shrugs.

“Where did you find that?”

“When I was talking to Anil yesterday, I told him that I really like to read. But not little kid books. Older kid books but not too much older. When I woke up this morning, there was a box of books by the bed, with my name written on it. Anil got them for me. All of the Harry Potters. I picked this one ‘cause I like the picture on the front.”

“And you can actually read and understand it?”

“Mom, I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid. In fact, you’re insanely smart. Almost too smart. But you’re also only five, nugget.  A five year old being able to read that well?”

“You and daddy always read to me, even when I was a baby.  I remember how you guys always made me repeat words, even when I was small. They’re in my brain and I recognize them when I see them and remember them. That’s how my brain works. I know what things say and I know what they mean. Is that weird?”

“Not weird. Just...I don’t know...just...wow.”

“Daddy said next time we’re in town, I can get The Hobbit. And then maybe Lord of the Rings for my birthday.”

“Can you read me some of Harry Potter?”

Tanner frowns. “You think I’m lying? I’m not making it up. I CAN read it.”

“Just humour me. Pick a random page and read me a bit of it, okay?”

“Alright…” he huffs dramatically, then grabs a leaf off the grass to use a bookmark before flipping to a different place in the book. “Now? Start now?”

Esme nods. “Just pick something. Anything”

“Okay…”   one of his fingers rests on the page, the tip slowly following each word. “...it is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something and would give anything to slow down time, it has a ….” he pauses, frowning up at her. “I don’t know how to pronounce that word.”

She peers down at. “Disobliging.”

“...it has a disobliging habit of speeding up.”

Esme’s eyes widen.

“What? What’s wrong, mom? What did I do? Was that wrong?”

“No. It was right. Every word of it. I just...I don’t know...I think maybe daddy and I need to talk about sending you to a different school.”

“One for smart kids? ‘Cause no offence to any of the other kids, but they’re all stupid. I know how to read words like ‘cat’ and ‘dog’ and ‘ball’ and I can write sentences with those words in it. With my eyes closed! I know my full name, my address, my phone number. I even know daddy’s full name and his cell number and when he was born; day, date, and year. I  even know how to tie my own shoes. A lot of those kids don’t do that stuff. Not even TJ knows how. Why can’t I be in a bigger kid class? Where the work is harder?”

“I don’t know if that’s allowed.”

“What? The school doesn’t like smart kids or something? It’s so boring there. I could stay home and you and daddy can teach me. You guys are both smart. You went to college.”

“I don’t think either of us can give you what you really need,” she admits. “Learning wise. But we’ll talk about; daddy and I. Okay?”

Tanner nods, then flips back to the page he’d been engrossed in when she’d interrupted him. “Hermione’s my favourite,” he says. “I read it for her mostly. I don’t care much for Ron or Harry. I think they’re whiners. Who’s your favourite?”

“I don’t have one. I’ve never read them.”

“What?” He looks mortified at the mere suggestion. “You’re how old and you’ve never read Harry Potter? That’s shameful mom. Maybe daddy’s read them.”

“I highly doubt your dad has read Harry Potter. He’s not really into that kind of stuff.”

“Daddy’s into cool guy stuff. Like UFC and football and beating people up.”

“Well he doesn’t necessarily LIKE beating them up. Sometimes he doesn’t have a choice.”

“He kills people sometimes too.”

Esme nods. “Sometimes.”

“Is he going to hell for doing it?” Tanner inquires. “For killing people? Isn’t killing people bad?”

“Most of the time it is.”

“But they deserve it, yeah? The people daddy kills? They deserve it?”

“Why are you talking about this? You’re five.”

“I’m not a dumb little kid. I know what daddy does; I know what his job is. I do hear people talking, you know. I know he gets paid to hurt people. I know he gets money to kill them. I know he’s a mercenary.”

Esme scowls. “How do you even know that word?”

“I hear things. And they stay in my brain. I don’t care, that's what he does. It’s just his job, it’s not who he is. He’s daddy. That’s all that matters. That when he’s with me, he’s just my dad. He only hurts bad people. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“That’s the last thing he’d ever do. Hurt you.”

“I know. And I know he won’t let anyone else hurt me either. I feel safe when I’m with him. Because he’s big and strong and I know he’d protect me no matter what. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.”

“No. He definitely wouldn’t.”

Tanner sighs heavily. “I really hope he’s not dead.”

“What? Why would you even say that?”

“He hasn’t called in two days. Daddy always calls. ALWAYS. Right before bed. But two days and no calls. What if the bad guys got him?”  He draws in a shaky breath as tears well in his eyes. “What if he’s dead and I never get to see him again?”

“Your dad is NOT dead.”

“What if he’s gone and I never get to hug him or his voice again? Or I never get to apologize for all the times I was bad and made him angry.”

“Tanner...oh my goodness…nugget…” she reaches out to brush his hair from his eyes. “Tanner...what in the world goes in that head of yours, baby boy?”

“I don’t  mean to be bad. I don’t make daddy mad. I don’t mean to make him yell sometimes. I don’t mean to make him hate me.”

“Okay, first of all…”  shes gives an appreciative smile to one of the other caregivers that rushes over when she sees Tanner in distress; taking Addie and giving Esme the freedom to scoop the now sobbing five year old into her arms. Cuddling him as she would a baby; across her body with one arm under the back of her legs, the other around his shoulders. “...daddy could never...EVER...hate you. He loves you. More than anything else in the world. He always has and he always will. Just because he gets mad and yells, doesn’t mean he hates you. And how often does he actually get mad and yell?”

“Not much.”

“It takes A LOT to get daddy THAT mad. And even if he does get angry, he still loves you. And it’s really not you he’s upset with. He’s just frustrated more than anything. And sometimes, that frustration isn’t even about you. It’s about him. He’s frustrated with himself. Because he struggles and it makes him sad and angry with himself and unfortunately, it gets taken out on your guys. Or me. Do you remember what I told you? About daddy’s brain?”

Tanner nods. “That it hurts. That it’s sad and in pain.”

“Well he’s working very hard at making his brain better. And the doctor is helping him and I’m helping him. And so are you guys. Because it’s you and your brothers and your sisters that make him the happiest?”

“Can’t he take some medicine to get better?”

“It’s not that easy. But he IS working on it. He works on it every day. And he’s tough and he’s strong but sometimes he needs help. He needs us to help him. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The five year old nods.

“Daddy always loves you. He could never hate you. He helped make you. You’re part of him. You’re part of his new life; his second chance. There is no way he could ever hate you.  Could you ever hate him?”

“Never,” he sniffles. “I love him too much.”

“Well that’s how he feels about you. And no. He’s not dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I would know. Trust me. He’s just busy, nugget.  He’s got a lot going on. A lot on his mind and a lot to do.”

“He’s too busy to call us?”

“Sometimes he has to go places where he can’t use his phone. Where it’s not safe to call. But he will when he can. But he’s not dead. I promise.”

“I hope you’re right, mommy. ‘Cause I’d miss him. So much. I’d miss his face and his voice and smile and the way he tucks me in. And the way he always teases me about being so short. I get mad when other people do it, but not when daddy does it. It’s funny when daddy does it.”

“Well he makes fun of me for being short, too. I always tell him he's just ridiculously tall and has ridiculously big feet.”

“He DOES have really big feet,” Tanner declares, then giggles. “And his hand is bigger than my whole head, I swear. I bet he could kill someone with one punch. Do you think he could? Do you think he could break the guy at the grocery store in half?”

“What?” Esme laughs. “What guy at the grocery store?”

“The one that touched your bum. That guy with the weird hair and the Mustang. Do you think daddy could break him in half?”

“Well maybe not literally. But he could definitely hurt him pretty bad.”

“Could he kill him?”

“What is this obsession with your dad killing people?”

“I’m just curious. I wanna know how he killed someone with a garden rake. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” she says, as she combs her fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t there. I just know he did it. I don’t need the details.”

“And it was two people, yeah? How? I don’t understand it. I’ll have to ask him.”

Esme laughs. “You can ask, but I don’t he’s going to tell you.”

“Because you’ll tell him NOT to tell me.”

“Exactly. You need to know the details. Not with that kind of stuff.” She presses a series of kisses to his forehead, then his tears away with gentle fingertips. “Want some lunch?”

“I could eat. Can we have normal food? Like our normal? I miss our stuff.”

“I’ll see what’s in the kitchen and we’ll go from there.”

“Can I help? I wanna help.  Remember when I used to always help you when it was just me, you, Millie and TJ? When daddy didn’t live with us for a bit? I was little but I still helped.”

“You were a big help,” she praises. “You used to love to fold laundry.”

“And you used to wrap me in the warm towels from the dryer. I liked when you did that. And I used to bring you tissues when you were sad and you would cry. Do you remember that?”

“I do,” she presses a kiss to his cheek. “You were like a knight in shining armour.”

“I slept with you all the time when you were lonely. Because you missed daddy even if you were really mad at him and didn’t want him around.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want him around. I just…”

“I know why he wasn’t there. Why he had to leave. It’s okay, mommy. I don’t blame you. Daddy wasn’t daddy. And it made me sad. I didn’t like him very much. He was really mean. He yelled a lot. Especially at you. I didn’t like it. I wanted to punch him in the face.”

“My little protector.” She kisses his cheek once more, then tousles his hair. “You know too much for someone so small.”

He pouts. “I’m not small.”

“Yes, you are.” She nuzzles the tip of her nose against his temple. “And you always will be to me.”

***

It’s shortly before one in the afternoon when Tyler  arrives; stepping out of the chauffeured car provided by Anil. Eyes surveying  the enormous white stucco ‘Spanish hacienda’ inspired home;  immaculately kept lawns and gardens and an elaborate marble and gold fountain in the middle of the circular interlocking brick driveway. By normal standards, Mahajan’s had been lavish and large; sleek and modern, sparsely furnished and feeling cold and empty. Anil’s is unlike anything he’s ever seen;  the gigantic home somehow welcoming with its turquoise colored front door and matching shutters on every window. The grounds are equally sprawling; everything well maintained and expertly manicured; gardens bursting with various types of flowers in a wide variety of colors. Not the kind of place that you’d expect someone ex military to reside in. Hell, even his own home is far beyond anything he could have ever dreamt about or hoped for. The five million from the IRA making it possible to afford a place like that, and with Anil’s generous initial offer and the constant flow of money going into the bank, he won’t ever have to worry about living expenses ever again. No more lying awake at night wondering how the hell he was going to pay a mortgage and all the bills, never mind how he’d put clothes on his kids’ backs and food in their bellies.

He shrugs a simple black backpack onto his left shoulder, the simple movement causing him to wince to when the fabric of his shirt presses and rubs against his upper arms. The injuries are noticeable now, and far worse than he’d expected them to be; the knees that had pressed into his biceps leaving purple and black bruises that he can feel  right down to the bone. In a futile attempt to spare his kids the sight of the worst of the damage, he’d worn a long sleeve shirt to hide the marks, only to find that even the softest and smoothest of fabrics and the smallest of touches irritate his arms. His right is in a sling; forearm immobile across his chest, the shoulder long popped back into place yet still relatively useless and needing support. And his throat still throbs; rows of visible finger marks  and solid area where a forearm had been placed against his neck in hopes of holding him still or rendering him unconscious.

It’s an all over body ache like   he’s never experienced before; pain that seems to travel right to his very core, settling in and gnawing incessantly. Thankfully the after effects of the drug he’d been injected with have almost disappeared; only hampered by moments of temporary memory loss, confusion, and brief episodes of dizziness.  He’d slept for two days. Only waking long enough to make trips to the bathroom and to get as much liquid into him as possible. No energy for anything beyond that. Battling crushing fatigue and an incessant migraine that saw the need for the curtains to be tightly drawn and all lights and television turned off at all times.

As much as he wants to be in on the action and feel useful  to the team, the fact remains that right now, he’s anything but.  Knee still throbbing and limp much more pronounced, a store bought brace doing little to immobilize it or help alleviate some of the pain. He’s able to use his right hand, but has very limited movement in the shoulder itself, making even the smallest of tasks like dressing himself almost impossible. Deep bruises travel along the small of his back and into both kidney areas; the physician Anil had brought in the day after the attack believing the bruising most likely affects the organs as well. Each piece of damage already done to a broken and tattered body making him the weakest link and forcing him to step back for a couple of days. And for once he’d been relieved at the thought of being benched until the doctor declared him ‘medically fit’ to get back into the thick of things. And when Anil had assured him that the team would be fine without him and told him to take the next forty eight hours to spend with his family, he hadn’t stuck around long enough to question the decision.

One of the armed guards leads him to the backyard, and he can hear the kids before he sees them; their excited chattering, squealing, and giggling accompanied the sound of splashing water and Kyle’s deep, calm voice. And it’s his brother in law that sees him first; giving him a broad smile and a nod in greeting, then whispering something in Millie’s ear as she clings to his neck. Her wet hair sticks to the sides of her face and her forehead when she glances over her shoulder; eyes immediately sparkling and a bright, wide smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and abandons holding onto Kyle’s neck in favour of a frantic doggy paddle that takes her to the nearest ladder.  “Daddy!”

Tyler had promised himself that he couldn’t crack. That he wouldn’t allow his tattered and fragile emotions get the better of him. His kids don’t need to see that; him bursting into tears and having a complete emotional meltdown. But he’d come so close...so fucking close...to never seeing them again. To never hearing their voices or feeling their hugs. To never seeing them grow up. And it’s impossible to completely hold back the desperation and relief; his throat feeling incredibly tight and tears burning his eyes as he manages to drop down to one knee as his daughter comes rushing towards him.

“Daddy!” Millie throws both arms around his neck, body drenched from the pool. “You’re here early! Mommy said you wouldn’t be here for a couple of days! But you’re already here!”

“I was able to get things done early.” Tyler explains. “Thought I’d show up and surprise you guys. What’s going on? You having a good time?”

“There’s lots of stuff to do here. Lots of cool stuff. But I still miss you. I wish you were here to do cool stuff WITH us.”

“I’ve got two days to spend with you guys. We can do all kinds of cool stuff.”

“Two whole days?”

He nods.

“Daddy gets to spend two whole days with us, Tyler,” she says to her younger brother, as he practically shoves her out of the way to get to his father. Another set of arms wrapping his neck; a second wet body pressed up against him.  None of that matters. The dampness of his clothes, the wet hair against his skin, the smell of chlorine. The only thing that matters is the press of those tiny bodies against his, the sound of their voices, and the smiles on their faces and the tears in their eyes.

“What happened?” Millie gingerly touches his shoulder. “You hurt it? Again?”

“Just banged it up a little. I need to keep it in this thing for a couple of days. It’s nothing serious. Hey…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her brow. “...it’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m fine. I’m here, right?”

She nods, valiantly holding back a flood of tears as her gentle and curious fingertips trace the bruises on his neck. “A bad guy did this to you?”

“A very bad guy.”

“Did you kill him? ‘Cause he hurt you? Did you kill him?”

“Don’t cry, Millie,” TJ implores, perched upon his dad’s thigh, an arm still around his neck. “Daddy’s fine. He came to visit. That means the bad guy lost. That daddy was stronger and meaner than the other guy was. He’s alive, right? No bad guy’s ever gonna kill daddy. He’s too strong and too smart.”

“Does it hurt?” Her voice cracks as she continues her exploration.

“A little. The other guy looks worse.”

“How come?” TJ asks. “Is he dead? Please tell me he’s dead. ‘Cause that’s what he gets for messing with you.”

“How about we NOT talk about killing people?” Tyler suggests, and accepts the hand that Kyle offers; able to pull himself to his feet without too much or the dizziness setting in.

“You look like you’ve been to war and back again,” Kyle remarks, then hands over Declan’s small yet solid and strong body, wrapped in a towel.

“Feels I’ve been to hell and back.” he admits, and runs a hand over his son’s damp hair and places a long, gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Well if you look like that but you’re here, I take it the other guy is in a body bag.”

Tyler nods in confirmation, then lets TJ and Millie pull him towards the house via the side pockets on his cargos; talking over each other as they prattle on about the home theatre and the playground and the animals and all of the things they can’t wait to show him.

“How close did it come?” Kyle asks. “To you NOT being here?”

“Too close for comfort, that’s for sure. Needed to get away for a couple of days; clear my head. Figured this was the best place to do it.”

“Only place that matters,” Kyle reasons. “Things were starting to get a little tense around here. Wasn’t too bad when you didn’t call the first day, but when you missed the second? I thought my sister was going to have a mental breakdown. Then I see this…” he nods in the direction of Tyler’s injured shoulder. “...they didn’t get a hold of you, did they?”

“I’d look a lot worse if they did. And I definitely wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Tyler...oh my God…” The patio door slams shut behind Esme as she rushes out of the house in her bare feet, and he barely has time to pass Declan to his brother in law before she’s tossing her arms around his neck; her position on edge of the deck making them nearly the same height. Careful not to embrace him too enthusiastically; mindful of the injured shoulder, feeling the press of his immobile forearm against her. “...oh my God…” her hands are in the hair at the back of his head, fingers pressing into his scalp. And he can feel the way her body trembles against his and her tears against the side of her neck, not even trying to hold it in. Audible sobs of relief that have her shaking. And Kyle whisks Millie and TJ away; sparing the kids the sight of their emotionally fragile parents and giving them some sense of privacy. “...I was worried sick about you. Where the hell have you been?”

“It’s a long story.” He manages to hold back in his own tears, but the relief is evident in his voice. “I should have called. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I thought something happened to you. That they got a hold of you. And neither Yaz or Koen or Ovi would tell me anything but I could tell something was wrong. I figured it couldn’t be too bad if they weren’t showing up to tell me you’re dead. Are you okay?   Both hands are still in his hair when she pulls back to look at him. “Jesus Christ, what happened?”

“Not right now, okay?” He rubs the small of her back, then covers her lips with his in a long, slow kiss. “Later. When the kids are in bed. I don’t want them hearing them. I don’t even want YOU hearing it.”

“This goes way beyond someone just jumping you, doesn’t it.”

Tyler nods.

“What the fuck happened?” Gentle fingertips travel over the top of his shoulder and onto the side of his neck. “Never mind that. HOW the fuck did it happen? I don’t understand how someone could get THAT close to you? How…?”

His hand moves to the side of her face and he silences her with another kiss. Longer this time. Deeper. Harder. It’s desperate and it’s needy; fuelled by the realization that he comes so goddamn close to never getting a moment like this again. IF they’d managed to get a hold of him, he would have spent days, weeks, even months, being put through unbelievable agony and torture. Knowing his family was still out there; completely vulnerable without him to protect them. And he knows that Mahajan would have not only  let Esme know that he was still alive, but he would have made sure she knew exactly what was being done to him. With no hope of him ever surviving it.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”  Her voice is just shy of a whisper as she embraces him tightly, and she presses her lips against the side of his neck. “That you’re okay and you're here and I don't have to worry about you anymore. How long can you say? Overnight?”

“Couple days.”

“That’s more than I thought,” she sniffles. “I’ll take it.”

“It’s okay now,” Tyler places a kiss on her temple. “I’m here. Everything’s okay now,”

“It’s so far from okay. I’M so far from okay. But you’re alive and you’re in one piece and that’s all that matters right now. I was so scared, Tyler. I was so fucking scared.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, baby. That’s the last thing I wanted. It was out of my control. Believe me when I say that..”

“I do. I do believe you. I just…” she pulls away once again and takes his face in her hands. “...I’m just so happy to see your stupidly handsome face.”

He gives a small chuckle and pecks her lips. “Where’s the baby? And Tanner?”

“They’re both napping.  Tanner had a rough night. He’s having a hard time. And we really need to have a talk about him. About how smart he is. I can’t wrap my head around just HOW smart.”

“We’ll talk about it.”

“Go and see him,” she urges. “He’s in the living room. On the couch. He’s going to be so happy to see you. I’M so happy. And relieved. So fucking relieved.”

“It’s alright, Esme. I’m here.” He kisses her once more, then pulls her tightly against him with his one good arm. “I’m here.”

*****

Tyler spends a half an hour standing at the side of Addie’s crib. Watching her as she sleeps and reaching out to gingerly remove the soother than dangles precariously from her lips. The hand is soft and gentle that he lays against her hair; palm cupping the back of her head, thumb brushing repeatedly over her ear and then along the top of her cheek. And it’s then that he allows the tears to come. In that still, quiet room with the breeze fluttering the curtains and Addie’s tiny body rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. The enormity of what happened...what COULD have happen...finally hitting him. It’s the closest he’s been to death in nearly seven years. Had Farhad been successful at his attempt on the bridge and had Esme NOT been there to save him, his death would have been relatively quick; bleeding out in minutes and likely losing consciousness from shock before that happened. If his assailant had gotten a hold of him, death would have eluded him. At least until Mahajan felt he had learned his lesson.

He almost didn’t get this chance. The opportunity to see his infant daughter again. To see the way those long, dark eyelashes brush against the tops of her cheeks or how those soft, pink lips as if suckling from a bottle. To hear her soft breaths and the little murmurs and sighs. He’d come within minutes...maybe even seconds...of never experiencing her first birthday or seeing her take her first steps or hearing her call him daddy for the first time. It’s a sound -an experience- that always brings tears to his eyes and takes his breath away; the moment each of his children looked at him and smiled and finally knew exactly who he was and what to call him. Nothing on earth can possibly come close to that feeling.

He leaves her to sleep. Pressing the tips of two fingers to his lips before softly placing them against hers, then using a forearm to clear the tears from his face as he leaves the room.  He’d slept for two days yet he’s still so fucking tired; body feeling as if it’s on autopilot, as if he’s simply going trough the motions of living. And while it’s a tremendous relief to be with his family and it was desperately needed, he hates that the sabbatical has been forced upon him. That some fucking asshole hired by Mahajan had not only gotten that close to him, but had been able to inflict the damage he had. It makes Tyler question everything; his confidence, his abilities, his skills. Whether or not he’s reached the end of the line. Forty is considered relatively old and washed up as far as mercenaries are concerned. And even without his underlying health issues, he can’t help but wonder if the attack is a sign that he’s lost his age and it’s time to let go. To leave field work behind him and just concentrate on running things in the background.

Tanner is still fast asleep on the couch; flat on his stomach with both arms wrapped around a throw pillow and a pout curving his lips.  And he groans and grimaces as he kneels alongside his son, combing his fingers through his hair and pushing the wayward locks off his forehead; palm against his cheek, thumb brushing along the slope of his nose. And it isn’t until he leans in to press a kiss to his temple that Tanner stirs; giving a long, almost sad sigh and his eyes opening slightly.

“Daddy?” He breathes.

“Hey,” Tyler gives a soft, comforting smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“No, mate. You’re not dreaming. I’m really here.”

Those big blue eyes slowly widen; tears filling them, lower lip and chin quivering. “Daddy…” it comes out as a choked sob. “...you’re here...you’re okay...I was so worried about you. I was scared you were dead.”

“Well I’m not.” He lays a hand on the back of Tanner’s head and presses his lips to his brow, then his temple as those tiny arms circle his neck. “I’m here. With you.”

“You didn’t call. For two days! It scared me. I got worried. I thought the bad guys got you.”

“I’m sorry, Tanner. I didn’t mean to scare you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.  Things got a little crazy and I couldn’t get to my phone.  I  am so sorry, mate. You forgive me?”

Tanner nods. “I was dreaming about you.”

“You were? What were you dreaming about?”

“We went to Disney World. Remember how you said we could go when I was old enough? And that we could go on rides together? Do you remember?”

“I remember.”

“That's what it was about. Going there and going on rides. And eating lots of joke food. And watching the fireworks. You let me sit on your shoulders. I like when you let me do that. Maybe we can go soon to Disney World?”

“Maybe. I’d have to talk to your mom about it.”

“You got hurt?”

“A little.”

“The bad people hurt you?”

“Just a bit.”

“What did you do to them? Did you hurt them back?”

Tyler nods.

“Did you kill them?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I did.”

“Does it make you sad? To kill people?”

“Sometimes, I guess.”

“Why? If they deserve it, why would you be sad?”

“It isn’t an easy thing to do. Even when they do deserve it.”

“Don’t be sad about it, daddy. You kill people so you can come home and see us. That’s why you do it, right?”

Tyler nods, swallowing around the painful lump of emotional sitting in his throat, tears sparkling in his eyes.  Feeling regretful. Ashamed. Embarrassed of the person he’s become and the things he’s resorted to. The damage that his own hands have been able to inflict. The pain. The torture. The death.

“I don’t care if that's what you do,” Tanner continues. “For your job.  I don’t care if you kill people. They're not good people. But YOU are. Only good people help. Only good people fight back. That’s what you always TJ when he fights the bullies at school. You said that good people always stick for people who can’t stick up for themselves. And that’s what you do, right? You help people who can’t do it themselves.”

“I guess that’s  part of it. There’s so much more to it, though.”

“I don’t care what you have to do. Just as long as you come back. That’s all that matters. I don’t care what you have to do when you’re gone. As long as you’re daddy when you come home.”

He sniffles loudly and wipes away the tears that manage to escape. “You…” he presses a kiss to Tanner’s forehead. “...are way too pure and perfect for this world, you know that? This world doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

“Did you get to say? Overnight?”

“I get to stay for TWO nights.”

His entire face brightens. “Really?”

“Really,” Tyler confirms.

“We can do things together?”

“Yup. But I just gotta be careful with my shoulder. And my knee. It’s kinda messed up too.”

“Maybe you’re getting too old to fight the bad people.”

Tyler frowns. “Excuse you? How old do you think I am?”

“Uncle Koen said you used to ride a dinosaur to school.”

“He did, did he?”

Tanner nods.

“Remind me to flush the toilet the next Uncle Koen is in the shower.”

Tanner giggles. “That’s savage, daddy.”

“You want to come outside with me? So I can’t spend some time with everyone? Wanna show me the animals?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically, then tightens his hold around his father’s neck when he tries to stand. “I love you, daddy. I’m sorry for the times I made you mad and I made you yell. That you hated me.”

“Mate, I could never…ever...hate you. You’re my son. I helped your mom make you. No way I could ever hate you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. For ever yelling at you. I shouldn’t do that. You forgive me?”

“Of course I do. You’re my dad.”

“I love you, Tanner,” Tyler wraps an around his son’s tiny frame and draws him tightly into him; eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of the five year old’s head. “You have no idea how much.”

#Tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #extraction 2020 #best part of me #chris hemsworth character.

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 236-238

November 2-4  Well, it's been a hell of a few days but I have to write the journal entry sometime, I suppose. Monday night I went to bed super early and last night I was exhausted and heartsore, and today I've got a nervous stomachache that just won't quit, but if I'm journaling this year, this is going to be a pretty important inflection point.  Monday was a day where not a lot happened, or not a lot I can remember at this point anyway. I made my butternut squash soup in the evening so I could take it to the precinct in the morning and put myself to bed at 10pm, several hours earlier than normal because I had to wake up at four. I didn't sleep great, but I used the Boring Books for Bedtime podcast to get me to sleep and I was able to get some rest. I also laid out my clothes ahead of time so I wouldn't have to wake my husband up at that hour just so I could get dressed.  Tuesday morning I woke up, showered, dressed and packed up my bag for the precinct, all in less than an hour. I wound up cutting it a little close at the end, so when I got to the car and realized I'd forgotten my piping hot travel mug of pumpkin spice coffee with pumpkin spice creamer, I reluctantly went on without it. There was coffee from a machine at the precinct, but it definitely was not as good. But I did arrive on time, so that was good. There is a lot to do in the hour between 5am and 6am when the polls open. 

My position this election was procedural specialist, which basically meant that whenever a situation cropped up that required a procedure, I was the one who went and did it. This was things like "voter with absentee ballot wants to trade it in for a regular ballot," "voter with absentee ballot does not have their ballot and will have to vote provisionally," "voter is not on the pollbook and is not 100% sure whether they are registered, but wants to vote provisionally just in case they are," "something about voter has changed, usually married name or address, and they need to fill out a new voter registration form while they are voting" and "voter has no ID/ voter wants to give us a hard time about ID and needs to fill out the confirmation of identity form before voting." There's a lot of stuff to remember, and I crammed pretty hard in the days before the election, as well as stuffing my manual with post-it flags for important topics. 

During a busy election, being a procedural specialist could be pretty daunting, even overwhelming. Every unusual voter has to be handled carefully, to give their vote the best possible chance of being counted. Lucky for me, our precinct had very heavy early-voting representation. Out of 2200 registered voters, more than 1300 had voted early in person or gotten absentee ballots in the mail. We only had 398 voters all day long, which is primary-light turnout. It was a little funny because we'd staffed for a contentious and complex presidential election and had nearly double the usual staff load for an election, and all of us sat around almost all day. I wound up with only six provisional votes all day, plus four ID forms, four or five voter registration updates, and three absentee-for-regular ballot switches. Unfortunately situations seemed to crop up everytime I went to the bathroom for awhile in the morning, but I had a lot of downtime.  We did have some extra staff positions that needed filled, so it was good we had some extra people. There was an outside team of four people, keeping an eye out for any trouble, handling curbside voting, and directing people to the correct door for voting or vote dropoff. We had one position for "drop box guard" because every precinct in Virginia was also an authorized drop-off location for absentee ballots on Election Day. The election board was quite concerned about the possibility that somebody might abscond with a whole damn ballot box, even though it's the size of a school-age child, so somebody had to sit next to it all day long despite the fact that we only got three dropoff ballots. And of course there were the sanitizers, people whose job was to follow every voter leaving a station and sanitize that station with disinfectant before the next voter arrived. Other than that, though, we had a lot of extra people and mainly used the day as an opportunity to train the newbies. I spent four hours in the afternoon not even working the pollbook, but watching other people work the pollbook to make sure nobody made any mistakes. It was incredibly boring.  The last hour of the night, after the polls close, is even busier than the first hour of the morning. Everybody really wants to go home, and of course the registrar is chomping at the bit to get the vote totals, but everything has to be done exactly right or we all get in trouble. In Virginia, there are a dozen boxes and envelopes that need to be filled, accounted for, sealed and returned to the office at the end of the night. Each envelope needs specific paperwork, and each paper requires the right signatures. The actual used paper ballots go in their own box, marked on the top, sealed with tape, and then further sealed with three security labels signed by every officer of election. Normally with 12 officials this is not a big deal, but getting 22 names onto those labels this time was an exercise in writing very small. We were in good shape at the end of the night because we'd had no discrepancies and only one incident all day (Laptop 3 crapped out around 3pm, leaving us with two pollbooks for the rest of the day but it didn't matter because turnout was so light that we never had any lines), but it was still a lot of work.  My particular job was to shepherd the provisional ballots and the provisional ballot log and make sure they got where they needed to go. I had to have a second officer of the opposing political party ("Hey, I need a Republican who isn't doing anything!") count the six ballots with me, affirm that there were six ballots on the voting log, and then sign and seal them into their envelope. After that I helped get documents into the correct envelopes and make sure that everything got sealed according to the extremely arcane rules. It was honestly the most exciting and fast paced part of the entire day, and we broke down and packed up the entire precinct in only ninety minutes.  I went home exhausted to watch results, and of course it wasn't what we'd been hoping for. I can't believe so very many people are still totally ready for more of Trump's bullshit and incompetence. It honestly boggles my mind how such a hateful man gets so many otherwise reasonable people to vote for him. Even though I understood in principle the idea of a red mirage with early ballots being counted late, I was heartsick when I went to sleep and despite being exhausted, I slept very poorly.  This morning the news was better, though not great. A close race means litigation, and of course Trump claimed victory overnight despite huge numbers of uncounted ballots. He is human garbage. Our Democratic congresswoman held her seat, and her opponent made a gracious concession speech that was actually eloquent and nice. It's bizarre how quickly something like that becomes an oddity. But most of the mail-in ballots were for Democrats, as predicted, and the outcome is better, though still far from certain. After all these failures of prediction, I'm afraid to believe in anything at this point. But maybe tonight I will at least get some sleep.  Despite everything, life went on today. The kiddo had a day off for teacher workday because it's the end of the first quarter already. Jesus. I cleaned up the kitten room enough that my husband can now use it as the office it actually is supposed to be, so he worked in there today and I got my bedroom back. That was a high point of the day, definitely. I got my period, so that sucked, but at least I could lay in bed for awhile and not be on camera for a bunch of college students. In the morning I drove down and transported a cat to the recovery room for spaying tomorrow, which closed up another TNR site. We're picking away at our list, slow but sure, but it just keeps getting longer. There are  so many cats!  Later in the day, I noted that the kiddo had been using a lot of screen time and we had a discussion about whether he'd done the chores to actually earn those points. He cleaned out the dishwasher and went to clean his bathroom, and I was just about to start dinner when I heard the terrifying dual noises of running water and "MOM! THE TOILET IS FLOODING!" And it sure was, with gusto! I ripped the tank lid off and grabbed the float to stop the water running, and made the guys grab every towel in the house to get water off the floor before we gave the downstairs neighbors a bath. The flood lasted only about 30 seconds, but it put quite a bit of water on the floor. I was able to get the flapper back in place and determine nothing in the tank was actually broken, the flapper had just gotten stuck when the overflow began and it had cascaded from there.   But what had caused the backup? There was no waste in the water, one small blessing, just lots and lots of disintegrating toilet paper bits. The kiddo admitted that he'd had an inspiration while cleaning the toilet. There was a lot of gunk under the rim, he had explained, and he thought that if he could get the water high enough in the bowl, it would wash away the gunk with no need to scrub. So he'd taken a bunch of toilet paper and shoved it in the toilet to block it up, gotten the bowl nice and full, and then immediately realized he'd created a situation he couldn't stop. (He seemed to have been planning to use the plunger to remove the blockage, not realizing quite how much toilet paper he was using.) He was extremely contrite about the whole thing and promised to run future brilliant cleaning ideas past a parent for review. The clog proved highly resistant to plunging, and after an hour I was almost ready to throw in the towel and call maintenance to snake the damn thing. As a last ditch effort, I completely emptied the bowl, then filled it with a bucket of the hottest water I could coax from the bathtub, and used that to plunge. It worked, and the toilet finally flushed. Whew.  And then I had to make supper! I put together a nice meatloaf and preheated the oven, only for smoke to come pouring out of the damn thing. See, yesterday while I was working the polls, my husband cooked something, chili I think, in the oven, and realized that the pot he was using was much too full. He put a pan under it, but apparently the pot was much-much too full, because it overran that and the pan and got all over the oven and set off the smoke alarm. He'd wiped out the oven, but I think he missed the broiler and that's why it smoked right up again. At this point I just sighed and started looking for microwave meatloaf recipes. I did find one, and though it was not as good as oven meatloaf, it was edible, and I was really very done with household tasks for the day.  Now it is getting late and I'm beat, but the nerves won't go away. It is so hard to be in the same position as four years ago, disappointed in your country, terrified to hope for anything, but clinging to the possibility that things will be okay. It hurt so badly before, even worse than now I think, because it was so shocking. I guess it's like the first time your home gets ruined by a flood versus the second time, both times your house is ruined, but the second time at least you weren't surprised that something like this could happen. I wish I knew how to get off this flood plain. On the other hand, my Tumblr post of kittens has really taken off and has over a thousand notes. Apparently I was not the only one in need of high-octane cuteness to give my brain a few seconds of peace and happiness. I'm going to try and get some sleep now, here's hoping for better dreams and better tomorrow. Please, please, please. 

#quarantine #election 2020 #voting #toilet #long post

[mindlcssartist]

is that [LAURA HARRIER]? no, that’s just [ADELAIDE 'ADDIE' ATKINS]. [SHE] is [TWENTY-SEVEN] years old and is a [B&B OWNER]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [FOUR YEARS]. on a good day, they’re [RESILENT & ALOCENTRIC]. but watch out! they can also be [DECEITFUL & TACITURN]. [GROWING PAINS BY ALESSIA CARA] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill!

tw: child neglect, arson, cheating.

hello hello hello! you all can call me g and i invited myself to this party to introduce to you my baby addie SO, without further ado, let’s do it shall we?

H I S T O R Y

Adelaide Atkins Savoy is the daughter of Edward Atkins, an English salesman/conman and Ann Savoy, a French teacher that came from a (somewhat) noble family.

The Atkins family moved to Peachtree, Georgia from England when Addie was five years old after a business initiated by Edward, her father, went awry with the Savoys. Addie’s grandpa, who probably lost the most out of the business con but loved Addie to no end and wanted her grandkid to have a decent life, decided to fly the Atkin-Savoy family and bought them a wonderful, luxurious home on Addie’s name.

Her childhood was… an odd one, to say the least. Her parents still acted like they were part of the Savoy family while in Georgia (and with the housing/jobs Addie’s grandpa got them, there was no reason to doubt them) so they fit perfectly with Georgia’s finest, they were living a double life of sorts, socialités in debt who schemed their wealthiest friends without them knowing. Her parents promptly got Addie to work alongside them, either as a distraction or as an active asset in their plans and she couldn’t quite deny her skills to them alas, Addie did stuff she wasn’t proud of, illegal stuff she could get away with because no one suspected the little girl with the ponytails.

Edward Michael Atkins Savoy, Addie’s younger brother was born when Adelaide was around eleven. Ann lost interest on Eddie pretty quickly so Addie pretty much raised the kid as well as she could after she turned thirteen. The two formed an unbreakable bond very quickly.

She learned many skills during her time with her parents: pick locking, html, pickpocketing, boxing, sewing (which served the young woman well when her parents decided to stop buying their kids clothes and she started making them for the two of them instead), whatever her parents required of her and whatever she could learn to make sure her brother was well taken care of, she’d learn.

CHILD NEGLECT TW The worst instance of their parents neglecting both Addie and Eddie happened right after Eddie turned five. Their friends found out about how the couple had played them and the Atkins family lost all respect within the community, so they quickly started to go in debt with banks and strangers to try to live the life Ann and Edward were so used to. By this time, the matrimony had mostly forgotten their kids to the point where they stopped providing for them unless they needed Adelaide for some job, so it was all Addie’s responsibility to not only care for her brother but her parents somehow. She started working (an honest job) when she was fourteen and never truly stopped.

ARSON TW when Addie was seventeen, one year from graduating high school Edward and Ann made a decision: they needed money to pay off credit debts and alas, they needed to burn down the house the Savoys had bought for the family because they needed the insurance money. Addie started to storage as many stuff as she could when she was informed of what was going to happen (was guilt-tripped into staying silent) and the night her parents actually burnt the house down, Addie grabbed Eddie, everything she had gathered, a car a friend had lend to her and flee Peachtree, the two siblings didn’t look back. Adelaide didn’t finish High School.

After the two siblings escaped Peachtree, they situated in Arkansas for about a year, where Addie worked around two, three jobs in order to take care of herself and Eddie. No longer after a friend encouraged her to give her testimony (and all the proof she had gathered that backed up the claim that the fire had been premeditated) and she put her parents in jail for arson and child neglect, gaining her brother’s full custody and whatever money was left from the insurance payment.

The Atkins have lived in: Florida, North and South Carolina, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Indiana, Maine, New York and now New Jersey, always trying to make a home out of these places to no avail.

In one of these cities, Adelaide met a dark, mysterious man who she quickly fell in love with when she was no more than twenty-three years old and for the first time in her life, she opened her heart and mind, fully, to someone else other than her brother and close friends. However, not everything was a fairytale: it didn’t take long until Addie discovered the man she had fallen in love with was engaged to be married to another woman, and their relationship ended as abruptly as it started, leaving her completely shattered and heartbroken and thus, the Atkins siblings arrived to their final destination: Springhill because it was their next point in the map. they’ve lived in the city for a little over four years now.

After working as a waitress/bartender/cook/whatever she could get to make a living for her and Eddie, Addie got a letter from the Savoy family one day with the news that her grandfather had died and had left behind a trust fund for her, enough money for the two siblings to live off comfortably for the rest of their lives. However, the oldest decided to only use enough to buy a nice house for the two of them and to open a modest, lovely b&b, their major source of income. They have a nice life.

She and Eddy don’t really talk about their past a lot, unless any of the parts truly trust the person they tell their story to.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Most days, Addie is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, the kind of girl who smiles at everyone she meets and greets strangers with a smile on the daily. She likes making people around her happy. She thrives when people around her shine.

However, she can be very closed off and go as far as to be very deceitful? I mean, she is sharp, even though people don’t think she is because they write her off as a “southern belle” type, but what most people don’t know is she can be cunning whenever she sets her mind on it, she learned from a very young age how to take advantage of everything she had to get what she had her mind settled on.

The one thing she cares the most about in the world is her brother, Eddie. The boy is pretty much her own and has been since the day he was born, she would stop at nothing to make sure he is fine and he is happy.

Her hobbies include painting and sculpting (which she makes some money off of), gardening (the Atkins sibling’s home is a glorified zen garden by now) and designing (she sometimes uses this skill to make clothes for selling to friends and acquaintances).

She has fleeting relationships that never take to anything serious (committing issues plus a ton of other issues let’s be honest), but it doesn’t mean she isn’t opposed to the idea. She simply believes it’s not in her destiny to find the one.

Loyal to no end, good god. It takes a lot for her to feel comfortable with someone to call them her friend but once she does, she is the most loyal friend. Also the mom friend, no matter how close you are. If it’s even a little bit chilly outside and she sees a stranger shivering she WILL give them her sweater, has medicine and candy on her at all times.

She can be quite impetuous and extremely curious to the verge of being noisy, but never in a malicious way, unless you mess with someone she cares about.

Whatever you throw her way, she’ll land on her feet.

P L O T S (*will be a wc on main)

Ex-boyfriend*: There could be many ways to go with this, many reasons why he never told her he was engaged in the first place or why he lead her to believe he was equally in love with her, but boy do we love the angst in this household and I would love to see what this connection could bring.

Best friend: Either the best friend who help the Atkins while the lived in Georgia (preferably) or a new friendship they’ve built in the years they’ve been in Springhill Addie would be nothing without this person. She trusts them more than her own shadow and would kill for them in a heartbeat.

Foreign cousins: Maybe someone seeking vengeance because of what Addie’s father did to the family? Maybe they don’t even know they are related, everyone loves having someone you can tell “well, now i know where the craziness comes from”.

Muse: Whenever she’s stressed or just… inspiration strikes, Addie calls this person to either use them as a model or a canvass. She has every line of their body engraved on her memory and she still finds them fascinating and could spend hours painting them. We can discuss what shape this plot could potentially take.

People she works for: Either her art or the clothes she makes, I’d love to write about any of those.

Hook-ups: past, present, ended in good terms, ended in bad terms, one-sided infatuations that couldn’t go over due to Addie’s commitment issues… I want it all!

Possible love interest who will make her want to commit for once and open her heart again??????

Friends, enemies, neighbors… just love my baby, she and Eddie will love you back!

Okay, wow, if you made it through… honestly bless you and you deserve a freaking award. if you read this mess (i literally haven’t slept AT ALL because i wanted to binge the politician and idk if it makes any sense) and you still wanna plot, hmu of like this post and i’ll come to you!

#springhillintro

[annoying-one-in-the-family]

I said in the tags of my mommy issue post that I would write a daddy issue one too so here we go 🙃This is actually the second draft because I realized in the first one I was just relaying my parent’s entire marriage 😂

You can read more under the cut, but I’m going to provide a quick summary because this one I think is way longer than my mom one: 

My dad and I have no relationship. He missed out on my childhood and was extremely neglectful (and I’m kind of wondering if he was narcissistic now) during the times that he was present. He competes with everyone else for affection and is such a people pleaser that he has literally almost ripped my younger brother’s arm out of his socket to force my brother to apologize to an adult neighbor who called my ten year old sister a bitch. 

Unlike my mom, my dad has no interest in becoming emotionally healthy whatsoever even though he knows that he is emotionally unhealthy. 

And my parents are still married amazingly. 

So, my dad and I don’t really have a relationship, which is where the problem lies. It’s my understanding that he wasn’t really ready for marriage and kids when he married my mom (who was already a mother). 

My dad worked constantly when I was growing up. He left for work early in the morning before we woke up, and he came home late at night after we went to bed. On his days off, he slept or would fiddle around with a computer, so he didn’t really spend much time with us at all. There’s a brief period of time on tape that he actually did play outside with us, but I’m positive this was an isolated incident. 

So I didn’t really even know my dad until 2008, when my dad lost his job with a lot of other people. My older brother and I were 13 and 11, so we had the least interaction with him growing up, as opposed to my younger siblings who were 9 and 7 (not much of an age difference, but it was enough of a difference to matter). 

Suddenly my dad was home all the time when he had never been home before, and my mother was the one who got a job to try and support us. This was especially difficult because my dad didn’t know how to interact with children at all. My biggest memories of him at the time were every year on Christmas he was an asshole to everyone around him (because his parents ruined every holiday for him) and that he flaked out on the father-daughter dance every single year in school. Not the greatest impressions. 

Also, he made us stand in single file whenever he took us to the grocery store and used collective punishment, so my siblings and I really weren’t okay with him being the main parent. We had gone from a more open and relaxed parenting style of “do whatever you want as long as you don’t make noise that bugs me” to “I want you to clean this house from top to bottom using only a toothbrush and your tongue, and maybe I’ll let you go play outside if I feel like it, but also watch me take apart this computer and put it back together first”. 

As I got older, this only got worse. I think he was hit with the realization that his children weren’t really small anymore with my older brother and I being older, already having hit puberty, and just wanted to go hang out with our friends at the mall. This was also around the time I had my first boyfriend. 

I have to add in here that my mother did warn him that he was going to miss out on our childhood if he didn’t do anything about it, and he missed out on our childhood. And then he missed out on our teenagehood by isolating us and making us feel like shit because he missed our childhood (he’s still like this). 

It got worse when I was thirteen after I had been raped. He has never really looked at me the same again to this day. While he didn’t know the full details until I was in college (where I got very drunk and told my mother what had happened with my dad and older brother in earshot), he did know that whatever had happened wasn’t consensual. 

The next incident that stands out in my mind is when he told me I looked like a whore when I was fourteen while I was waiting to go to the bus stop. I remember it very vividly because it was a Monday morning, and we used to watch Chuck before I would have to leave. I was probably wearing a lowcut shirt or something, but I know that I only wore shorts one time in high school after I had been raped because my rapist was at school and would repeatedly sit beside me at lunch until I stopped going to the cafeteria at all to avoid him. 

It did start to get better in the coming years, but our relationship is still very fragile and practically nonexistent. My dad knows that he is emotionally unhealthy because my mom and I have gotten healthy enough to call him out on it, but he doesn’t have any drive to actually do something to fix it. He is continuously toxic and I honestly have wondered if he is narcissistic. 

There’s way more to unpack about my relationship with my dad, but I’m so numb to it all by now that I don’t even know what is normal and isn’t. I’m pretty sure it’s not normal for your dad to constantly be competing with your younger sister, but while he feels guilty about everything and is remorseful about missing time with us as children, he doesn’t seem to care about our interests much as adults either. 

There’s other stuff like how he blares music in our ears while we’re trying to have a conversation but screams if you even whisper nearby him with the TV on (which, come on, I had to learn how to tune out noise when I was fucking eleven, so just act like I was expected to as an eleven year old child god I just wanna call him a fucking twat so bad right now). But I don’t have time for that stuff because my mom is hurdling toward my house as she speaks and I still need to clean it to make it look presentable and find a mask because I’m hella sick right now. 

Also don’t know how to end this because it got derailed 100 times in the process. 

#toxic #toxic parents #toxic family #toxic parenting #narcisism #narcissist #daddy issues

[kekekentyuh]

Try and Try

I wrote this short story-type thing as a way of ushering my twentieth birthday in quarantine, since I have none but the company of words by my side as I reach this new milestone. But, as always, it managed to Margot Roth Spiegelman its way in my drafts (please get this reference) and I’ve only had the nerve to finish it, if not uninspringly, today. I hope you’re a little bit more gentle with this, as it’s not really a big post; it’s just to celebrate my own day. Thanks and have fun reading!

“I like your boots.”

I looked at him no longer than a second before looking down at my own feet, at the pair of black leather boots I was wearing. I didn’t know if there was something to them that made him like them, since they weren’t particularly new, with their peeling tips, worn-out soles and lackluster surfaces due to months of not bothering to shine them, nor whether or not he was bluffing, since I wasn’t so sure if seven year-olds already had motives to bluff, but the gleam in his eyes as he was staring at them like they were the fanciest thing he’d seen in a catalog was enough to prove me significantly wrong, and it made me smile.

“Thanks,” I replied, looking at him again. “I like yours, too.”

He turned his wide-eyed gaze at the pair of brown, faux-suede boots at his own two feet, which had alternating black and yellow shoelaces too perfectly tied – Mom could have very well tied them for his own sake – and decorated with small tiger patches sewn at the back. He made the same smile, only goofier, and looked at me, his eyes twinkling.

“Thanks!” And I could not bring myself not to smile back.

He was sitting beside me as the sun was setting at the playground we were in, warming the bright pastel hues of the play area to a saturated orange, muting them to a perfect tinge of monochrome, making me look around in awe and open my eyes wider than they actually went, but I figured, at that moment, there was nothing more of a spectacle than the small boy beside me, just a few inches away. He was barely past my stomach, wearing a plaid button down neatly tucked in his bright blue denim jeans, with his boots, and a Power Ranger watch slapped against his tiny left wrist. He looked so much better than me, I figured, with my plain white shirt and not-so-skinny jeans (which were what I liked to think my staple for a day at the university) looking like I had all the color in me sucked out, leaving myself gray and defeated.

I heard an “Are you okay?” before I turned to him and nodded again, even though I was entirely unsure of that answer, this time taking the time to look at him properly for the first time since we saw each other.

His smile had melted, replaced with a look I couldn’t easily read, prompting me to look back at him, and it felt so much like what it actually was: a mirror through time, like I was looking back into the reflection I forgot I had thirteen years ago. I saw him clearly for the first time: he had the same scruffy eyebrows that pointed at the end, and the same thick, dark hair, sticking out in different directions, with a bit in the center stuck together (which, I knew, was an adorable attempt at a fake Mohawk with gel bought from the corner store), had the same dark, chocolate skin and the same dark eyes that shimmered brown in the sunlight, but brooded dark and black as he closed them to blink. The expression on his face was almost neutral, as opposed to the wide smile he had merely moments ago, like he didn’t know what to feel about this strange adult in front of him, but it was almost curious, as if he wanted to know why he was there – and I knew for sure that he was curious, because I was him, thirteen years ago.

We sat there, in complete silence, as he turned away to look at down at his boots once more, swinging his feet back and forth, nothing but the whispering gentle breeze brushing through the tips of our hair, just staring at each other, not knowing what to say. I never was one to start a conversation with anyone, but to start a conversation with my seven year old self is something I never imagined I would even be doing, and I sure as hell did not know how to deal with that.

But given the circumstances I never knew would bring me here, I wouldn’t know if I’ll ever get to a chance to meet him again, or see him again. This wasn’t just something that happens to a person at some point in their lives – if anything, this may be the only chance I could get to spend time with him, and the only way time I had to utter a word to him that will last in this lifetime. I knew in myself – my current self – that I had to make this count.

“So,” I said, dragging it in probably the most hushed voice I didn’t know I had, in an attempt to pierce the deafening silence, “how’s everything at home?”

He turned to me doe-eyed before answering, “Home’s okay.” His voice lingered in my head like a mirage, the silent tapping of the tips of his feet on the pavement making up for the distinct hush of our surroundings. “Home is still...home.” 

“Home is home,” I agreed, nodding along. “It’s the best place in the world, isn’t it?” He nodded again, this time in a more rapid pace, making me smile again as I stifled a small, genuine laugh.

I blinked and noticed how I never cut my gaze from him, seemingly fixated on the way he sat and swung his legs endlessly, the tips of his boots brushing against the pavement. “How about Mama? How is she doing? And Papa?” He looked at me doe-eyed, his attention seemingly caught, as he locked his eyes in mine. "They're still picking you up from school, right?"

"Mama picks me up from school," he replied. "She always comes late after we finish, but it's okay, I have time to play."

“You guys still take the commute home?”

He nodded again. “Papa needs the motorcycle so we can’t ride in it. He comes home at night.” He kept staring at his two feet, as if he were willing them to sway with his mind. “He comes home much later than we do.” And I vividly remember it, because it was a sound I had become accustomed to, I sound I grew to learn and be familiar with: the gates opening, the motorcycle engine dying, the sound of keys jingling and the door closing from behind.

“Is he doing okay?”

“He’s always tired, he just scratches my head when he gets home and tells me good night,” he replied. “But Papa is okay.”

I don’t know how my parents did it – both working regular eight hour days, my mom being a full-time caretaker for two children just beginning to grasp the concept of school, my dad taking classes immediately as he leaves his job in the morning in order to pursue a law degree, coming home just as tired as the moon was. But somehow, they did it, and they did a magnificent job at it, and I couldn’t help but remember what must have gone through my mind at that time, because it was probably all there was to it: Mama and Papa are very busy. And they’re tired, so they need to rest.

“How about Lolo? And Lola? ” I felt my voice tremble at the question I barely had the strength to speak out; it felt like it’d been a while since I’ve said those words, and it felt so distant, so alienated, even though they had once been so familiar, that I never thought I would have brought myself to say it again. “They’re doing good too?”

And I saw the same unprecedented shimmer in his eyes, the way a child usually does when they are prompted to talk about something that they love. And for moment, I envied him; I’ve never felt like that for so long. “They’re doing okay, too.” He started nodding to himself again, probably because he knew for a fact that they were. I did too, even though I also knew how much had changed. 

“What have they been up to?”

“Lolo’s still walking a lot, he wakes up when it’s still dark and walk and walk until the sun comes up.” The image became so strikingly clear in my mind – a built 60 year-old in a red sweatshirt and blue sweatpants, walking in strong strides in the cold morning breeze, cane in one hand and a a clenched fist in the other. “He always brings us bread to eat for breakfast when we wake up.” So he did, until the day he couldn’t bring himself to walk anymore.

“And Lola still comes over a lot. But she likes to talk to the neighbors and water her plants.” That’s right – the barren, moss-green walls of the terrace used to be filled with striking purples and pinks, orchids hanging from above and tons of hibiscus blooming from below. My Lola saw life like she saw her flowers: ethereal, majestic, and worth the work. But they stopped blooming the moment her heart stopped beating.

“Does she still borrow your books?” I asked, in an attempt to mask the sadness in my expression, although ultimately proclaiming it through my voice. “And make you meryenda every single afternoon?”

“Yeah, she always comes to borrow my books so I can’t read much anymore,” he replied. The way he attempted to make it look like he was annoyed but was really happy, I knew, that she would come over to visit, even if it were just for the books, made me smile yet again. “And she always makes me sandwiches. I love her sandwiches.”

I heard another “Are you okay?” before noticing that he was looking at me again with his big doe eyes. I didn’t even realize the tears had already begun falling down the sides of my face, for I was too immersed in the images that had already been playing in my head, all of them feeling like distant memories unlocked unwillingly, but so much more real and concrete because of the little boy in front of me, yet here they were – warm and unstoppable, painful with every blink of the eye like daggers through the heart.

“I’m okay,” I replied, without nodding, wiping my wet cheeks with the palms of my hands, then with the collar of my shirt, looking worse than I ought to have let myself seem. I’ve always been sensitive at the thought of my grandparents coming over to skip in my mind, but I never felt anything more intense than what I was feeling at that moment. I couldn’t fully describe what it was, but I knew what I was feeling; I wanted to be him so badly. I wanted to be a child again, to have nothing else to worry about but the day ending and smiling again when another one begins, to run around freely into the arms of my Lolo and my Lola, kiss them like it was the last time I would ever do so, and keep them closer in my heart and lock them there forever, where they won’t be able to leave me again.

“Are you sure?” He asked, turning his body to me, focused at the small droplets landing on the front of my shirt, forming beads of emotion on the surface. “Did I say something bad?” My head snapped in his direction at those words. Something in me never wanted to hear a child say that out loud. 

A faint “No” was all I could muster, followed by a “I just wish I could stay like you forever. Or, you know, maybe even just for a little while longer.” 

“Why?”

“Dreams are free when you’re still a child,” I said. “It’s so much easier than when you’re an adult like me.”

His face scrunched up as he tilted his head towards his shoulder in a confused expression. “Well, I want to be like you,” he said in a matter-of-fact-ly manner after a split moment of silence, dropping his gaze to his feet once more. I turned to him as he replied, feeling the heavy spheres of teardrops covering my eyelashes as I blinked at him. “I want to grow up.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t like being a kid,” he said, pouting his lips as he talked. “I don’t really like myself.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’m not like the other kids,” he replied, tilting his head to the side. “I’m short, dark, and they all think I’m weird because I speak like the cartoons on TV.” He grimaced at himself, and I understood why; the neighborhood kids had always found it strange that one could have more knowledge of English than Filipino, and I couldn’t change that completely about myself, even if I wanted to. The voice inside my head was in English.

“I don’t like playing sports, and I don’t like to fight the other kids. And they all get mad at me when I point out that something’s wrong with what we’re playing,” he added, a thin texture of sadness engulfing his voice. “I’m just, different.”

“I see.” And I did; somehow, blending in, being part of a group or adhering to something has always been kind of a struggle for me. In a way, I’ve always known that I was different, that I looked different, and that I liked different things. I was more content with a book in my hands than riding a bike outside and more content with telling stories rather than catching bugs or climbing trees. But what was difficult was accepting that I was the yellow pea in the pod, that fitting in was always going to be an issue for me. And in a way, the feeling never really went away.

“I wish I was like you,” he managed to blurt out as I fixated my gaze on him once more, more surprised at his words than anything else. “You’re smarter, you do more awesome things than me, and you’re stronger than me.” Except I wish I was. “The kids here would love you.” I’m not so sure about that, either.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’re a scientist, studying in a university now, right? You’re studying animals and plants and why the chemicals change color when they are mixed together. You’re making great discoveries everyday!” He didn’t even pause to look at the confused expression on my face. “And you’re a writer! You write stories and people around the world have read them, right? Books with tons of words and magic like Harry Potter and the Hardy Boys?”

A few more words shot out of his mouth before I could even open my lips to respond, “And you’re doing work to help the people around you! You’re helping the farmers and making big decisions that will help the kids at the schools who need books, just like Mama tells me.” He looked at me again with his big, doe eyes in small crescents, smiling. “You’re a hero. They’d love you.”

It never really dawned to me that tomorrow was such a big thing for me; I have so many things I want to achieve, so many things I want to come my way that I’ve built up the highest expectations for myself because I saw no other option but to see myself cross those goals out. That’s why I always felt like my time was running out – I have so many things in my life that I want to pursue that sitting down is such a luxury in my head.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I replied, without a single bit of hesitation in my voice. No point in lying to myself, I figured.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m not really any of those things just yet,” I confessed, trying to usher in a smile to make it look like I wasn’t any more sad than I actually was. “I’m just a regular university student.” I wasn't a brilliant student-scientist, I was dragging myself in between classes bullying myself over topics I have yet to study. I wasn't a well-known writer, I was a hobby artist forcing myself to write despite the lack of inspiration. And I couldn’t stand up for my people – I could barely stand up for myself. “I try so hard, but I’m not any of those things. I’m not a hero.”

And we sat there in still silence, letting the slight breeze whip across us gently once again. I had so many things running through my mind that I couldn’t bring myself to look at him even if I wanted to, because it would only kill me to see the disappointed look on his small face the moment I did. I wasn’t anywhere near anything I wanted myself to be when I was young, nowhere near grasping any of the achievements I used to dream I would have at this point in my life. I wasn’t doing great things like I told myself I would. And it wasn’t because I was too short of chances to do those great things, either, because I’ve spent so much time looking for myself, figuring things out even if they didn’t need figuring out, and neglecting what I thought was best, that I didn’t have much attention for the things that truly mattered in the end. I’ve wasted so much time being someone I wasn’t, and I wasn’t proving myself any more capable of doing all those things either, because in all honesty, I wasn’t all that great. I was just regular, old me, and I was too afraid of what he’d think of me now.

I felt him shift across the bench to just a few inches beside me, too shy to look at me directly but sensitive enough, I felt, to want to make sure that I still felt him around me. “That’s okay,” he managed, swinging his legs again, this time looking at the playground in front of us. 

“It is?” I croaked, looking at him in dumb disbelief. 

He nodded. “Sometimes, we don’t really get the best of what we want. You know, like you don’t get to ride the nicer swings most of the time or play with the toys you want since the bigger kids always get them first. And sometimes, you’re too afraid to climb up the slide and go down because you’ll fall on your knees, and your knees will hurt.” He looked up at me, and looked at my eyes for the first time since he first spoke. “But that is not important, because the hurting will stop. What matters is you try your best to get there, no matter how many times you scrape your knees.”

I smiled genuinely, the mixed feeling of relief, happiness, and content washing over me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect him to say something else, or ignore me completely. “I guess so.”

“You’re still studying to become a great scientist, right?” I nodded. “And you’re still writing stories and saving them for everyone to read?” I nodded again. “And you’re still working to help others?” I nodded once more, and he smiled at me. “Then you are a hero. Heroes try and try until they succeed. And if they fall on their butts, they keep fighting, don’t they?”

I smiled at him. I didn’t ever think that I’d be proud of myself for lacking so much, but then again, it turns out someone was proud of me. I couldn’t help but chuckle at him as I ruffled his hair and put an arm around his shoulders. “You know, the thing about us is we weren’t made to be heroes. We’re not built like them, and we don’t want to act like them.” He nodded at me, agreeing completely. “But we try and try until we get what we want, because we don’t like seeing our dreams remain dreams.” I looked at the playground, with the burning hues intensified by the sun, and smiled at the sight. “And that’s probably more than what the Spidey Senses can offer.”

He smiled as he swung his legs again, wrapping an arm around my waist, shifting even closer than he had a few moments ago.”

“Heroes don’t tell themselves they’re heroes, because we don’t do what truly matters because we want to be recognized by them. We do things that matter because they matter, regardless of how great it will make us.” I looked down at him as he looked up to me, both of us smiling until the end of our ears. “And that makes us even greater than we could ever imagine, won’t it?”

“It sure will!” he replied enthusiastically, making me laugh as another single tear dripped down the side of my cheek. I’ve never felt any happier than with any other living human being in this planet; I didn’t want this to end any time soon.

“Tell you what,” I said, releasing him from our semi-embrace, looking at him with a soft gaze, “You keep reading, and writing, and doing the things that make you happy. Do them all and don’t think of what others will look at you or even laugh at you for. I keep trying if you keep trying. No stopping, and no giving up. Crying is allowed, but we keep strong after that.” I smiled. “What do you say?”

He smiled again at me, and this time, I knew he was even more happy than he was before. “Deal.”

He took my hand and shook it vigorously, which felt like nothing more than a jiggly wave in my arm as he turned towards the playground, before looking at me with that same mischievous smile.

“Race you to the slide?”

“I’m going to win.”

“Try and catch up, old man.”

#try #and #try and try #short #story #kid #self #birthday #20th #20 #fiction #as #fuck #fiction as fuck #off #the #beat #off the beat

[khhunniewriting]

The Others (12)

[ Mafia/Gang AU ]

Everyone went back inside the home where they could keep maters more discreet. Not everyone knew what was going on yet. The boss having a second son was big news. Everyone had to know in order to protect and serve him accordingly. What they didn’t know was that you were Leo’s mother. 

He hadn’t spoken a word about you to anyone other than Beenz who carried out the investigation. He didn’t need word getting out to Kylie. That was something he would deal with after he managed to secure his son.

Dok2 had Ash and Zene look after Ji-hoon while he took you and Leo upstairs to where his new home office was located. It was one of the first rooms to be fully furnished and set to look exactly like the one in the condo.

From one office to another... you were starting to think Joonkyung saw Leo as some sort of business transaction. He kept seating you formally, showing documents, and masking selfish demands as parental negotiations.

Leo stared blankly at his so-called father. Nothing about him felt familiar. As far as he was concerned blood was all they shared. The man was otherwise a stranger and would be treated as such. 

His eyes only softened when you held his hand.

You were sitting beside him acting as a moderator between father and son to make sure things didn’ get out of hand. Neither seemed to blink as if they were in an intense stare-off.

“Now,” Dok2 sat down eager to hear his son’s thoughts on the matter. “If you have something to say I will listen.”

Leo didn’t hesitate, “I don’t want to live here.”

It hurt to see your son so opposed to the idea. Although you too were also opposed in the beginning, you now knew this was the best option. Should anyone try to harm your son- 

“Mom is worried about my safety but I’ll be fine.” He turned to you in a more hushed tone. “We’ve always been fine.”

“That’s true but...” you pushed his hair back to get a good look at your teenage son. He was so handsome despite his cold expressions. It resembled the current Joonkyung that demanded you convince Leo to stay.

“I understand.” Words were convenient but never necessary with you two. One look and Leo knew this decision was hurting you more than it hurt him. The last thing he wanted was for you to suffer. “But I have a condition.”

When Joonkyung found out Leo was his son he was full of resentment towards you. All he thought about was exposing the truth. He never thought about what you had gone through all these years raising a son on your own.

Clearly, you had done well. It was to the point that Leo both loved and respected you even when you made hard decisions on his behalf.

“What is the condition?” 

“My mother stays too.”

He didn’t know.

Leo didn’t know that Dok2 had already extended the offer to you. He didn’t know that you had just had this same conversation as it pertained to you. That you couldn’t fathom the idea of being under the same roof as his father because you were denying decades-old feelings. 

“Leo-” you tried to stop him but Joonkyung took advantage of the situation.

“Done.” 

Like mother like son, Joonkyung thought.

“I can’t stay here.” This house was too far from your job, it would take hours to get there by bus. But when you tried explaining the situation to your son it was like you were negotiating with Joonkyung.

“He has money,” Leo tilted his head towards Dok2.

Your eyes widened at his suggestion. When was your son so blatant about using people for personal gain?

Joonkyung chuckled garnering both your attention. It was the first time in a long time that he genuinely laughed. It was also the first time you managed to see such an expression from him since you left.

“You really are my son.”

Although the situation wasn’t ideal, Leo knew the only way this situation could be better was if he could somehow help you. He knew you worked hard to give him everything on your own- to protect and care for him.

“Mom worked hard for me.”

Joonkyung nodded in agreement. He understood what Leo was trying to say. You alone had provided for him his entire life and now he felt the need to step in.

Both father and son were in agreement. They wanted to be the ones to provide for you, to care for you, to protect you.

“If someone is after me then I want mom to be safe.”

“That’s what I want too.” Joonkyung met your eyes with a look of determination. You were adamantly refusing his assistance before but in front of Leo, you were powerless. “What do you say Y/N?”

“If that’s what Leo wants...”

\\\

It took a few days for you and Leo to get settled into your new living arrangments. Dok2 had ordered a group of his guys to accompany you and Leo to your apartment. Only essentials and things that could not be replaced were taken. Some things you gave to Haru and Kai who had a hard time saying goodbye to Leo.

They had grown attached to him and promised to keep in touch now that Leo had a cellphone, courtesy of his father.

Dok2 made sure to get your apartment rented out this time. He didn’t want a repetition of last time. 

In your new home you were given the master bedroom on the east side of the second floor while Leo’s room was at the end of the corridor on the west side, next to Ji-hoon’s.

Every day you tried to familiarize yourself with the house but it was hard when maids continued to offer to do everything for you. All you could do was watch them as they neatly put away your clothes. 

“Lady Y/N where would you like the jewelry box?”

“Jewelry box?” You didn’t have a jewelry box or any jewelry for that matter. 

She presented you with a familiar-looking jewelry box. It was yours years ago when you and Joonkyung were together. You had left it behind when you resolved yourself to leave with nothing but your clothes. 

You opened it to see the various gifts he had given you throughout your short-lived relationship. One stood out the most, the very first gift he had given you. A necklace you had already forgotten about.

Joonkyung stood by the open door watching as you held the necklace in your hand with a look of confusion. 

“So they brought those too...” Dok2 took a couple steps into your bedroom but stayed close to the door not wishing to push his luck. “When I asked that guy to bring your stuff here I guess he thought I meant all of this stuff too.”

You took your eyes off the necklace for a second to see a couple of the maids were rummaging through some older looking boxes, pulling out clothes you hadn’t seen in years. Everything you had left behind was there.

“Why did you keep all this?”

For the past three days that you had been moving Dok2 had disappeared. This was the first time you were seeing him since agreeing to fulfill Leo’s wish. 

He didn’t want to out and admit he had hoped you would come back. “Should I have gotten rid of it?”

“I never thought of you as the sentimental type. Keeping this might send the wrong signal to Kylie.”

Joonkyung was glad you brought up his wife. He had been looking into her and the guards that were on duty during her meeting with you. 

“Are you ready to talk about her now?”

You had put off the discussion about your meeting with Kylie. It would involve you admitting you had left because deep down you were disappointed and jealous of Joonkyung and Kylie’s marriage. 

\\\

Outside Ji-hoon and Leo, accompanied by Ash and Zene, took turns tossing the ball to each other to practice some shots. Among the many commodities Dok2 made to the house for you and Leo, the basketball court in the backyard was what got to Ji-hoon.

“Honestly I’m jealous of you little bro. You’ve been his kid for days now while I’ve been here for years and he never got me one of these.” In all honesty, Ji-hoon never asked for one. He liked basketball but he wasn’t into it as much as Leo was. Even now he was only practicing because of Leo.

After being absent from school and practice these days Leo felt the need to practice on his own so he could stay in peak physical condition for his return.  

“Don’t call me that-” Leo jumped to make the layup with his right hand. Unlike Ji-hoon, Leo needed time to warm up to others. Although he had come to think of Ji-hoon as a friend, there was something that kept him from embracing him as a sibling. “We’re the same age.”

Ji-hoon smirked, “Yeah but I was born in July.”

The unruly teen had been relieved to see his friend/brother return to normal. It was a rough few days but now that they were playing together he felt like they could go forward with their lives as siblings.

“You sure seem happy for someone who just found out his dad cheated on his mom.”

“Well...” Ji-hoon sighed rubbing the back of his neck in contemplation. He wondered if he should be telling Leo about his parents’ marriage.”I already have a half-sister so a half-brother isn’t too bad- ya know?”

Leo stopped dribbling to look up at the guy that had just been smirking at him. He seemed to have a lot on his mind.

By now Leo had been told only the important facts about the organization his father had. He knew of the dangers but he didn’t know much about the rules the families involved live by. Ji-hoon wondered if it was okay to tell him about the rules of marriage.

“My dad married my mom for the sake of an alliance between Illionaire and Ambition. It was more like a business deal where my mom promised to hand over Ambition to my dad while he promised to hand down the entire operation to the future heir they would produce aka me.”

Leo’s stoic features softened understanding of why Ji-hoon acted out. “I don’t know what’s better- being born a bastard or out of a contract.”

Ji-hoon beamed at the “younger” male. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

“Never.” Leo went back to dribbling up and down the court avoiding Ji-hoon.

“Leo you’re a cute little bro-” Ji-hoon groaned as he caught a fast pass from Leo that nearly knocked him back.

Ash and Zene were confused. “Are they fighting or getting along?” Ash asked but the other couldn’t answer.

As they cooled down Ji-hoon couldn’t help but wonder what lead to Leo being born a secret. He kept his eyes on him watching that never-changing expression of his.

“Aren’t you curious about what happened?”

It was a vague question but judging by the pretext Leo knew what Ji-hoon was referring to. Truthfully there was some curiosity. Mainly there were questions he wanted to ask Joonkyung. 

“No.”

Ji-hoon smirked, “You can’t fool me.” The long silence was enough for him to know there was something on his “little” brother’s mind. “Why don’t you just ask?”

Silence.

Ji-hoon decided he had pried enough for one day and didn’t push him to answer. “Well, you can always ask me anything.”

“Back then...” Leo though of the aggression Ji-hoon displayed in their younger years when he was on the opposing team. “Why were you like that?”

Now it was Ji-hoon who became silent. Back then the anger won him over. He resented his mother for having his sister. His father often disappeared. No one gave him any attention when he was only beginning to truly understand what it meant to be born out of duty rather than love. Even when he took up smoking as a cry for attention no one responded. 

”There was so much to be angry about.”

He didn’t know how it happened but one day that anger seemed to fluctuate when he played basketball. In the midst of his hobby, he managed to find something or rather, someone interesting. 

From there he somehow got to here.

“Anyway, we should probably discuss about tomorrow.”

Leo’s head tilted in question.

“What exactly are we going to tell people now? If I suddenly start calling you little brother I’m sure Cjamm is going to have questions.”

“Don’t call me that!”

\\\

After ordering the maids to leave the room only you and Dok2 remained. It was starting to get easier being around him. Enough for you to speak to him like you used to, without fear of offending him or restrain. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything, tell me what she told you that day.”

You didn’t disclose the fact that she seemed to be lost and in pain when she was looking for you, only that you had gone to talk at a nearby cafe.

“I let her know that I had no intention of getting between you two. That I stopped meeting you after finding out she was pregnant.” You sighed recalling the turn in her demeanor. “Then she threatened me and let me know who you really were.”

Joonkyung’s brow furrowed with worry for an event of the past. “How did she threaten you?”

“She told me about how it was expected for you to have multiple women.

His jaw tightened realizing she was making it seem like there were countless others than just you. She was sowing the seeds of deceit. 

“She told me about your code of conduct and how she was able to do as she saw fit to the mistresses of her husband.” You chose to skip over the memory of her belittling your relationship with Joonkyung when she found out you knew nothing of him being a mafia boss. 

“I assume it is but taking into consideration you willingly left… either you are a good girl full of guilt and remorse- obviously unfit for someone like Dok2 who is the head of Illionaire. Or you also maintained multiple relationships resulting in you not knowing the paternity of your child.”  (((This happened in part one)))

You cleared your throat of the lump that had begun to form. “I was heavily pregnant with Leo so the entire time I braced myself for her scrutiny. When she finally asked I was more relieved that she gave me a way out than anything. All I wanted was for Leo to be safe so I made her believe he wasn’t yours. That I left you because I was seeing someone else.”

Joonkyung remained silent for a moment, taking in the entirety of your confrontation. Now he knew why Kylie never mentioned your pregnancy. Kylie was a smart woman, she knew if there was a chance of your child being his then it would be another potential heir.

She had no intention of sharing.

Surely Kylie was able to sense your sincerity as he was. You always spoke with conviction making it easy to trust you. She must have known your apology was sincere.

Yet, Joonkyung was not satisfied.

“Why did you lie?”

“I was trying to protect my son.”

Joonkyung shook his head, he didn’t mean to ask why you lied to Kylie. He wanted to know why you lied to him all these years. 

“You said you were doing the right thing remember?”

“I was,” you defended. “I left so you could live your life with your family. You always complained about Kylie but I know you love her.”

“I don’t love her.”

 “Even if you deny it.” Once again you felt the tightness in your chest. It was always hard for you to face the truth of Joonkyung’s feelings. “You can’t live and sleep with a woman without having any feelings for her.”

“I can and I did.” He knew this wouldn’t help his case with you but he had to make it clear that Kylie is only his wife on paper. “Ji-hoon was a means to an end. After him, there was no need to be with her. I fulfilled my end of the deal, now we live our lives separately.”

You were taken aback by how cold Joonkyung sounded. “I never knew you were so heartless.”

“I wish I was as heartless as you think I am.” Then Joonkyung wouldn’t have to worry about the way he felt now as he stood before you. “Do you know Kylie has a daughter? She’s not mine, I don’t know who the father is. Her name is Moon Jia.”

“What?” 

You were genuinely shocked to hear that his wife had gotten into the same position as you.

“I don’t know who it is and I don’t care.” 

The fact that he let Jia live meant Kylie had no reason to go after Leo. It was an eye for an eye. However, he knew she might try to threaten you.

Dok2 took a few steps closer to you but kept a decent distance. “I never cared about Kylie. But I’ll make sure to find that man. If she ever threatens you I’ll use him against her.”

Your heart raced wondering if he meant those words the way they came out. “Why do you always make it sound like you care about me?”

This was Joonkyung’s chance to say it, to admit that he had feelings for you.

-end-

A/N: How many of you are ready to accept your baby daddy? And how many are ready for Kylie’s reaction??? 

#khh scenarios #dok2 scenarios #lee joonkyung scenarios #khiphop scenarios #illionaire scenarios #khh #khiphop #dok2 #lee joonkyung #dok2gonzo #illionaire #illionaire ambition scenarios #illionaire ambition #illionaire fics #khh fanfiction #khh fanfic #khh fiics #khiphop fanfic #khiphop fics #dok2 fanfiction #dok2 fanfic #dok2 fics #the others

[sibyl-of-space]

havent angsty long-posted on here in a while lol it’s like i am in 3rd year of college all over again

Well, no thanks to fast and reliable testing, I am at least fairly sure I actually do have Covid. I still haven’t gotten my test results and it’s been a week, but I have a headache typing this because I over exerted myself by performing the highly taxing tasks of... taking a shower, cooking something, and sitting upright instead of lying in bed (as I have been largely doing for the last 2 weeks). So at the very least I’ve been able to communicate with my workplace and am now at an understanding that I should just take this week off too because if sitting upright for extended periods of time makes it hard to breathe, that is perhaps, slightly concerning.

So instead my anxieties now are about the fact that literally contracting Covid was actually in the long run beneficial for my mental health because I’ve been able to just... rest, and play some video games, and rest some more, and sleep, and edit photos, and watch other people play video games. I’ve gotten to just. Relax. I haven’t had the chance to relax since before the pandemic started, because I work at a nonprofit that helps homeless people and that shit doesn’t stop being necessary in a crisis. And it’s compounded by the fact that I work in IT and we had to basically throw together enough band-aid and duct tape solutions to get everyone set up to work remotely, which was hard as fuck to do, and now we are still going in part of the week to help serve meals shifts because we don’t have any volunteers.

(That is like 90% definitely how I contracted it, a few weeks ago I worked a meals shift with someone who was not-so-subtly coughing into his mask next to me and it was not the phlegm-y cough but the ‘ah i am just clearing the old airways’ cough. Why are you working a meals shift to serve the homeless if you have symptoms OH MY GOD. Anyway.)

My workplace is not organized in the best of times, which made it interesting but lively and was largely endearing even if it was somewhat frustrating. But now, it is just driving me up the wall. I have felt at the end of my rope mentally for about 2 straight months with no end in sight. And now the more literature that comes out indicates it could be YEARS before the USA is able to approach anything resembling normal because of this, and I do not think I am mentally capable of handling this kind of environment for that long.

My team is GREAT. I love them. This organization put out the only legitimate IT starting position that did not require 3-5 years of previous experience, paid me MORE than a fair starting wage, and is just all around great at treating me like a person and I’ve learned so much from them. I am so thankful. But the organization as a whole is managed like, well, basically a shit show that makes me honestly miss the well-oiled shitty corporate bureaucracy that was my first job out of college. I’ve been considering applying elsewhere for ages now, but... well first of all I feel like I need to at least have worked a full year here before moving on (it’s been about 7 months presently) for it to count for anything, and also, well it has been very nice actually being treated like a person in a 9-to-5:30 office position and I don’t know how much I’ll be seeing that if I sell out and work for some tech startup or whatever the hell.

Up until now I have had a sort of... promise I’ve kept to myself, where if I am not fulfilled and start to actively dislike and resent my job when I wake up for it in the morning, that I will move on from that job. I have held on to that. My first job out of college was an excellent source of stability for me as a recent college grad, but when it reached a point it was stressing me more than it was supporting me, I moved on. I then worked minimum wage (note: minimum wage was $15/hr at this point so my income was only actually decreasing by $4/hour because administrative assistants do not get paid what they are worth. Now bay area cost of living is fucking stupid, but minimum wage in this circumstance was actually livable for me with the bonus of having my parents’ health insurance.) at a fabric store - I stayed there for 2 years, longer than I’ve ever held a position, and while partly I left because I had more or less finished learning what I had hoped to learn from my coworkers, the store was transforming away from that kind of community DIY vibe it started out as and turned into a kind of etsy wine mom vibe that didn’t click with me as much anymore, and also I was turning 26 and would lose my health insurance through my parents.

So I took the next several months taking my first real break from constant responsibilities/employment since pretty much ever, focused on speedrunning Tales of Symphonia and eventually started studying for a baseline IT certification so I could try and get a job that was more appealing to me than administrative bullshit, which I hated so much. My closest friends I made in my first corporate job out of college were people in QA and IT, so I decided to try and make that a reality. I studied my ass off for a couple solid months, took both tests for the A+ certification, passed, and started applying to jobs. And now here we are.

My frustration stems from the fact that I want to continue working with the people who took a chance on me when I was very green and had no experience, just 2 tests under my belt and a willingness to learn. I really do want to continue learning and growing here. But the environment, through no fault of anyone’s, has been just grating on me. I honestly believe that if I quit they would all completely understand, but I don’t WANT to - I want to stick it out, partly out of pride (this organization has such high turnover, I have already outlasted over half of the new users I’ve onboarded.....), partly to repay the team that has invested in me and treated me like a human being, and partly because I know more experience is necessary if I want to land another job anywhere else.

But boy, am I drained. I was literally hoping I had Covid because it meant I could get 2 weeks off work. And here I am, finally got Covid, am taking 2 weeks off work, and yet I still feel bad about it because a damn test hasn’t come back making me feel validated about it and I’ve still partially convinced myself I’m being a drama queen.

And this break from work is just making me dread the prospect of YEARS of this kind of uncertainty. It’s been so nice just kind of being able to do things at my pace, but it took me actually contracting The Plague to actually get this kind of relief.

Anyway, a few bright sides... first, my tortoise is adorable and doing great, so there is that. (Just looked over and saw her doing something cute. I love her.) Second, I will continue to rest this full week, and next week there is a good chance I will feel more empowered to tackle a workday with the perspective of fresh challenges as opposed to just some monotonous daily grind, after having this time off. Third, if I continue to feel nothing but dread and frustration regarding work, I think I should stick to that promise to myself and give a deadline to when it’s time to start looking elsewhere and move on, because no organization is worth my mental well-being. And lastly, I’ve re-visited OoT for the first time in a really long time (handhelds are about all I can do at the moment), and that was really special.

I’m still fucking pissed that there is pretty much no chance I’ll be able to go to France this Christmas with my roommate and girlfriend. I was so excited to have a paycheck where I could afford to do something not just for myself but for the people closest to me, I routed our flights so we had layovers that would let us connect on the main flight together and paid extra so we could sit together, I was SO excited about this because I spent almost EVERY Christmas in France as a kid because of my family and I miss it SO MUCH, I was so so so excited to share these intimate memories with people I really care about, but the USA is a fucking dumpster fire shit show so who knows when I’ll be able to actually do that now. I haven’t cancelled the flights yet but I’m coming to terms with the fact I’m going to have to do so. Hopefully I can get a refund and we will just have to go next Christmas, but I’m still really fucking upset.

Not even going to comment on how much of a shit show the USA is in general. I feel completely helpless. Another 4 years of Trump is literally a catastrophe we can NOT permit but the current DNC platform looks like it is going to fix about, oh, FUCK ALL, so at this point it feels like there is no hope unless we literally start busting out the guillotines. Every time I see an Elon Musk fanboy on Twitter some of my remaining faith in humanity crumbles. Then I think about how people have been protesting EVERY SINGLE DAY for the right of Black people to LIVE and NOTHING is being done about it. It’s both exhausting and terrifying.

In conclusion, I would like to stop living through a major historical event, please and thank you.

#this is very stream of consciousness #personal

[aweirdkindofyellow]

The J.A.C.I.E. Project, Pt. 1

JACIE Jay-see \ d͡ʒˈe͡ɪsi \ See Jennifer Anna Clara Isabell Evans. An ambitious 21-year-old music student, striving to find her place in the industry.

JACK Jak \ d͡ʒæk \ A guy ten years older than Jacie, who takes a liking to her.

Chapter 1

My name’s Jacie. That’s Jacie with a c-i-e, not a s-e-y. It’s also not Casey. Just Jacie. Actually, that’s a lie, it’s Jennifer Anna Clara Isabell Evans, but I go by Jacie. It’s more like an acronym, really. None of my actual names ever sat right with me. When I was five years old, I was writing out my initials under a drawing and declared that I wanted to be called Jacie from there on out. Somehow both my parents entertained the idea and it stuck since.

They never agreed on anything. My parents, that is. Never. How they ever got married was beyond me. They couldn’t even agree on a name for me. My dad wanted to name me Jennifer Anna, and my mom wanted to name me Clara Isabell. There was not a single compromise that either of them could make. The only reason Jennifer Anna came first was because my dad was the one who got to write my names down for the birth certificate. It was only a good thing, otherwise I would have never found J.A.C.I.E. I honestly still do not know how they managed to stay together long enough to have my little brother, Benjamin Tobias Evans.

Ben was the light of my life. He was fourteen years younger than I was, making him six. The only reason why he had two names and not four like me was because I named him. Yet again, our parents couldn’t come to an agreement, so they gave me the honour. Not the greatest choice. I was thirteen when I made that decision and thought it sounded like a cool name from a young adult book. But, hey, at least he wasn’t named Jennifer Anna Clara Isabell Evans. Ben, or Benny as I sometimes liked calling him, was a very acceptable name.

He never got to know what life was like with two parents. My mom had left by the time he was one, they divorced soon after, and then my dad got full custody and my mom only had visitation rights. I was glad the court favoured my dad even though he also came with his downsides. Anything was better than the constant need for disagreement, though. Something in me knew it wasn’t even about differing opinions, it was about always wanting to be opposing the other’s view.

Luckily Ben never had to witness any of that. I spent many days in my life wondering why they wouldn’t get a divorce. It was the best for everybody even though it was so confusing. Anything was better than the screaming and unbearable bickering.

My little brother was the only reason I was where I was in life. I wanted to set a good example for him, that anything was possible as long as you put your mind to it. He didn’t exactly have a good role model in my mom, who was always more suited for the single life than the family life. Although he was only six, I wanted to show him that there was a way to have everything. I had a social life, good grades, and managed to work my ass off as well. It was possible. Hard, but possible.

I was in my last year of my college degree. I studied the very broad subject of music. My college did offer specialist courses, but when I began, I had no idea where I wanted to take it. Now, a few months over two years later, I knew it a lot better. Although I enjoyed performing, I liked the songwriting process just a little more. Better to say, I loved songwriting and producing. I also realised that this wasn’t a field I could just hop in and hope to get a good job in. I needed to do more to stand out.

That’s where internships came in. I knew I needed to get myself some work experience before I was thrown out into the real world. Nowadays there was no way to get a job anywhere unless you had five years experience in some software that had only been available for a year. I was sure to get ahead of that. I signed up for every internship that was even remotely relevant. It was the only way, especially with how competitive it all was in L.A.

And that’s how I ended up at the Fueled by Ramen L.A. offices. It was one competitive place. Rather than just coming in for one single interview. They had us come in in groups. It reminded me a lot of college orientation. We were shown around, trying to convince us to work there. But really, there was a large group of people and only two of us were going to be picked. Pretty torturous if you asked me; showing us how great it would be while not giving us the job. It was what it was.

I was standing there leaning against a wall after our tour was done, waiting for my name to be called up for our individual interviews. A water fountain was right next to me, meaning the others around me would often come up for a sip of water, giving me the usual awkward nod. It was all so strange and silent. We were waiting outside meeting rooms which were being used. Even if anybody wanted to, we couldn’t say much more than a quiet whisper.

All I could really do to fill the time was stare ahead, over everybody else, right at the wall at the end of the hallway, and tightly hold onto my folder. It had things such as my CV, the printed information sheet they wanted filled out, and other items I thought would help me look good.

There was this meeting going on in the meeting room just past the water fountain that had started even before we all arrived here. It seemed like quite the serious one. Not that I expected anything less. But there were quite a few people in there discussing something. It could only be important.

At one point, however, the frosted glass door opened and somebody walked out. I didn’t even bother to look in the direction of the movement. Considering that I actually did need an internship, I didn’t want to stare as they left the room, making them uncomfortable and feel like they’re being judged. We’ve all been there before. It’s not great.

They walked up to the water fountain, leaning over and taking a quick drink. I just shuffled over a little to give them some more space, assuming they’d leave in no time. But then I noticed a pair of eyes staring right at me. I finally looked at the person who had left the meeting and saw a guy. He definitely had either dark brown or black hair naturally, but now it was bleached to an ash blonde. I mean, it definitely didn’t look like his real hair colour with that black beard and those bushy eyebrows.

“Hi.” He smiled as soon as I made eye contact with him.

“Hello.” I nodded back politely.

“What’s going on here?” He asked in a whispered tone as he scanned the hallway full of people.

“We’re all here for internship interviews.” I shrugged and held my folder a bit tighter, matching how quiet he was being. “Only two of us will actually get it, though.”

He whistled lowly and squinted his eyes just a little. “What do you think your chances are?”

I hummed, taking another look at everybody around me. “Not that great, to be honest. I’m the youngest here.”

“Age doesn’t matter.”

“It does in the job world, unfortunately,” I corrected, briefly taking another glance at him. He was pretty good looking really. “Either way, I’m sure there’s people here who are more suited for the positions. I’m not really the ‘Experience Management’ type.”

“No?” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a small smirk. “What type are you then?”

“More of the songwriting and producing type,” I confessed. Maybe it wasn’t great to tell somebody here that I didn’t feel like I was a good fit when I was just minutes away from going to an interview to convince them that I was the best candidate.

“Oooh,” he approved with a big sexy grin, “the best part.”

“Are you in the music sector?”

“I am indeed, yes.”

Then something hit me. I was in some record label’s office after all. “Is that why some people here are staring nervously at you?”

“Yup.”

“Nice.” I gave him a respectful nod. “Signed artist.”

“You know it.” A sly smirk appeared on his face. Before the conversation had a chance to die down, for him to part ways with me and get back to his meeting, he quickly added, “what’s your name?”

I subconsciously looked down at that information sheet I was holding on top of my folder and answered. “Jacie.”

“Are you giving me a fake name?” He happened to take a peak at what I was looking at and saw what I had scribbled down on the paper.

“No.” I shook my head and gave him a little more access, pointing at each of my names individually. “J, A, C, I, E. That’s Jacie.”

“Wow, that’s a signed artist thing to do,” he laughed softly.

“Tell five-year-old Jennifer that,” I sighed and gave him a disappointed look. “Always the diva.”

He gave me a good look over and the smirk returned yet again. “You wanna go out for drinks tomorrow evening?”

I pursed my lips together. “I actually already have plans then.”

“Oh, do you?” He challenged.

“You see, I’m turning a measly twenty-one tomorrow, so I’ve got quite a few other things on my roster.”

“Twenty-one,” he breathed out, “you are indeed a young one.”

“Hey, I warned you,” I defended myself.

Before the flirting could continue for any longer, the name ‘Jennifer Evans’ was called out. It was time to leave the hot guy, who’s name I didn’t even know, behind. I pushed myself off the wall and gave him a salute before walking myself to the dreadful interview room.

#all time low #all time low fanfiction #all time low imagine #jack barakat #jack barakat fanfiction #jack barakat imagine #the JACIE project #fanfiction #writing