#I’d either go home or make my little sister promise to go i dunno… they’ve never considered it before

[sunburnacoustic]

ohmygodohmyvgodohmygod oh My god oh my god oh my god ohmygodohmygod Muse Asia tour??? Where?????

#MATT. CHRIS. DOM. I AM EATING MY FINGERS HERE WHICH COUNTRIES. WHICH CITIES. I AM ON EDGE. #you know the Strokes just played Lollapalooza. It could happen. IT COULD FUCKING HAPPEN. OH NY FUCKING GOD WHAT IF IT DOES AAAAAAAAAAAA #i would lose my mind #simply nothing else; I would blank and lose my mind #I know they’ve played a China show before and like 15 years ago they did Indonesia and Singapore. But like that was 15 years ago. #Things are different now. Just last month the Strokes and Greta van Fleet played Mumbai. #If Muse did an India stop (especially when I’m not there) I think I would simply die #Like just me in a corner asphyxiated #I’d either go home or make my little sister promise to go i dunno… they’ve never considered it before #Oh I hope they do!!!!

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 21

Title: Juxtaposition

Warnings: none

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

It goes better than expected.

The older kids handle the reunion remarkably well; fake yet believable smiles plastered upon their faces, accepting kisses on the cheek and praises and compliments regarding how big and beautiful they’ve gotten, and returning enthusiastic embraces with tense and awkward one arm hugs. They’re polite and mildly pleasant; sticking together in a small, tight group as they thank their grandparents for the gifts and answers questions about school and their favourite extra curricular activities and life in Australia as opposed to the U.S. And Esme notices the look of disappointment that comes across her mother’s face when it's obvious just how much the kids prefer ‘the land down under’; gushing about the house and the acres of property it sits on and the close proximity of the ocean. She knows her mother had long held out hope that the kids actually hate being where they are; thousands of miles away from any extended family and never getting to experience the true wonder of four different seasons. But they hold firm even when Michelle tries pushing them to commit to visiting Colorado; adamant that they're perfectly content where they are and have no desire to ever go back to THAT part of their lives. Australia is home; the sand and the surf and the kangaroos and koalas and the smell of the salt of the ocean and the feel of blazing hot pavement under bare feet.

Esme both understands and feels the same way. It’s where they belong and where they feel they can be exactly who they’re meant to be; not held towards ridiculous standards and allowed to freely explore and express themselves in every way they possibly can. There’s no judgement there; mom and dad encouraging them to be themselves and not bend to limits and labels put on them by others. Even twelve and half years ago Australia had been where she’d discovered herself; finding levels of freedom, comfort, and peace that she never even knew existed. The old Esme had been left behind; either perishing on that bridge in Dhaka or left in Bangladesh to wander aimlessly. She had ceased to exist the moment she chose to try and save Tyler’s life over her own well being; mere minutes away from safety yet refusing to leave him there to meet a likely extremely painful and gruesome end. That had been her choice; a chance at a new life with him as opposed to returning to an empty and meaningless existence.

The smaller children have a harder time accepting the sudden appearance of their grandparents; Brooklyn harshly firing off invasive questions while refusing all offers of affection, Takota tucking himself behind his mother’s legs and occasionally peeking out from behind and offering small, tense smiles, and Addie nervously and frightfully clinging to her father. Refusing to allow him to put her down; whining and pouting at the mere suggestion and then tightening her hold around his neck and digging her heels into his ribs. It takes nearly half an hour of Sarge attempting quiet and calm small talk before she relaxes; loosening her hold on Tyler’s neck and allowing him to finally sit down, but adamantly refusing to let him dispose of her entirely. She eventually begins to settle entirely; put at ease by Sarge’s deep and soothing voice and gentle disposition. The way he sits beside them, yet doesn’t infringe on her personal space, the soft smiles and the compliments on her ‘pretty clothes’ and being ‘beautiful just like her mommy’ and having the cutest little nose and freckles. It begins with her hold around Tyler’s neck going from two arms to one, followed by none; simply leaning back against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. It then proceeds to her slipping in between the two men and then finally ending up on Sarge’s lap. No fanfare or big deal made out of her brave move; just smiles exchanged as she settles in and begins chatting endlessly and amicably about her bedroom back home and the goats, chickens, and pigs, and Charlie the Joey that comes for peanut butter sandwiches.

While Brooklyn and the older kids eventually grow tired of socializing and head up to their rooms, Addie and Takota linger; the former now in her grandfather’s loving and protective embrace as they stand in front of the Christmas tree as she points out ‘special’ ornaments and the stories behind them. And after spending the majority of the ‘meet and greet’ hiding behind his mother’s legs and venturing a peek between her thighs every so often, he takes the opportunity left behind by his sister’s departure. Scurrying from one parent to the other and hurriedly climbing into Tyler’s lap; throwing both arms around his neck and curling his legs around his waist.

He grimaces when a heel comes in contact with the scar at the small of his back. It’s been five years and direct pressure still hurts; a burning sensation that originates at the site of the bullet wound and then travels straight down the back of his leg. “Really ‘Kota? Really?”

“Really, daddy. Really.”

“Here…” he slides a forearm behind Takota’s knees and shifts his position. Sideways with tiny legs draped across his lap; both arms wrapped around his son’s petite frame and hands locked together and resting on the four year old’s hip. “...sit there. Other way’s hurting my back.”

Takota pops a thumb into his mouth. “Where the bad guy shot you.”

“Yup.”

“Daddy kills bad people,” the four year old informs his grandmother, as she sits in the nearby recliner.

“Takota…” Tyler’s voice bears a scolding tone. “...what did I tell you? About talking about that?”

“We don’t. Talk about it.”

“Then why are you?”

He shrugs. “Making conversation.”

“Well make conversation about something else. And this…” he wraps his fingers around his son’s wrist and pulls; effectively plucking the thumb from his mouth. “...does not belong in there. You’re not a baby.”

“Says who?”

“Me. And mommy. You want me to get you a bottle? A soother? Put you in a diaper?”

Takota pouts. “No.”

“Then the thumb stays out of the mouth.”

Giving a whimper in protest, he curls an arm around his dad’s neck and rests the side of his head against his chest.

Tyler drops a kiss on Takota’s head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. But there will be in a few minutes if you don’t smarten up. What’s going on? Why you being like this?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs.

“Tired? Wanna have a nap?”

“Nope.”

“What if I do? What if I want a nap?”

“You have one. I don’t wanna nap.”

“You’re just being shy?”

Takota nods. “Don’t want to get my brain eaten.”

“I already told you, no one is getting their brain eaten. There’s no such thing as zombies.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I DO know that. All the bad people I’ve come across? Not one of them has been a zombie. Out of all the millions and millions.”

“That many? That many bad people?”

“That many,” he confirms. “And not one of those bad people were zombies.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, I’d know. Zombies aren’t real. They don’t exist. That’s just stuff TJ and Millie talk about to scare you guys. There’s no zombies and no one is going to eat your brain.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I won’t let anyone steal you and eat your brain. Or any part of you for that matter. So why don’t you get down and socialize and…”

“No!” Takota cries, and frantically scrambles up onto his knees, throwing both arms around Tyler’s neck and tightly pressing his much smaller, lighter body against his broad, solid chest. “No, daddy! I wanna stay with you!”

“I can’t hold you forever. I eventually have to put you down. What if I have to take a leak?”

“Take me with you. I don’t wanna get down. I wanna stay with you.”

“Why don’t you go and see mummy?” Tyler suggests, as Esme returns with fresh pots of tea and coffee; filling everyone’s respective drinks before setting the carafes on the cluttered coffee table and dropping heavily down onto the cushion beside him. “Mummy LOVES cuddles.”

“No,” Takota remains steadfast. “Mummy’s not comfy.”

“Excuse you,” Esme frowns. “I carry you inside of me for nine months, get all fat and gross and that’s how you thank me? By saying I’m not comfy? That’s some nerve, kid.”

“You’re beautiful, mummy. But daddy’s more comfy. He’s got bigger arms. So he gives better hugs. Your hugs are good, but they’re not daddy good.”

“I know who to NOT put my will now,” she teases, and tucks her feet under her and sips leisurely at her tea.

She watches them together; father and son. The trust and the adoration in Takota’s brilliant blue eyes as enormous hands -with their multitude of scars and calluses and misshapen knuckles- tenderly cradling the back of his head as he’s laid along his father’s thighs; palms slipping down to the little one’s back as he dangles upside down between slightly parted legs. His t-shirt sliding up and revealing slightly tanned skin and the adorable pudginess that often comes with four year old tummies. A high pitch screech followed by his musical little giggles filling the living room when the tip of a nose and the roughness of a beard tickle tender flesh. Lips coming to rest over that slightly outward positioned belly button; blowing a loud ‘raspberry’; accompanied by Tyler’s rich, deep chuckle as he carefully pulls Takota back up and once more settles him on his lap.

The smile on her husband’s face is real; reaching his eyes and making them sparkle and crinkling the corners. So genuine and beautiful; a man who has seen so much horror and inflicted so much brutality on others -and had it inflicted on him in return- still able to smile like that. Reserved for the people that are closest and most dear to him; his wife and children often the only ones who get to witness it. And it’s a juxtaposition; how gentle and attentive and caring he can be considering all of things he’s had to witness and do to stay alive. It still haunts him; mistakes of the past and having to kill people as a means of survival. He has a lot of blood on his hands; toes he’s stepped on and bridges that he’s burned. And if anyone should be cold and callous considering everything he’s done and has been done to him, it SHOULD be Tyler. But he’s become the opposite. He’s patient and loving and caring; hands that are capable of such damage remarkably soft and tender. Strong and burly; intimidating when need be. But possessing a heart that’s even bigger than his body.

“I really think you should get down,” Tyler says, and drops a kiss on the top of his son’s head. “So I can actually drink my coffee this time.”

“No,” Takota buries his face in the warm, safe place between his father’s neck and shoulder. “I want to stay with you. My tummy hurts.”

“Something tells me it doesn’t. Something tells me you’re making that up.”

“My teeth hurt,” Takota tries again.

“Your teeth hurt? Why? Got cavities?”

“No. They just hurt.”

“You got some loose ones in there? Let me take a peek. Let daddy look.” Tyler places one hand on the middle of the little one’s back, slightly tipping him backwards as the other rests on the top of Takota’s head. “Open up. Let me see.”

Takota obliges; bridge of his nose crinkling and the corners of his eyes scrunching as large yet surprisingly gentle fingers search his mouth for anything amiss.

“There’s nothing loose. Want me to yank them all out just in case?”

“No!” He speaks around the thumb and forefinger tightly grasping one of his top front teeth. “Daddy no! No yanking!”

“Why not? They’re baby teeth. You’ll get your adult ones. You won’t be toothless forever.”

“No!” Takota frantically wriggles in an attempt to get away. “No daddy! Don’t pull my teeth out! Mummy! Don’t let him yank ‘em!”

“Daddy is not going to yank your teeth out,” Esme assures him, and scowls at her husband and slaps him on the thigh. “Daddy, don’t. You’re tormenting him. He’s going to have nightmares.”

“I don’t know, mummy. It would save us dentist bills. Yank them all out now, worry about it when the big ones come in.”

“No!” Takota yells, and then shrieks when the fingers that were in his mouth find the sensitive spot just below his chin; savagely tickling until he’s giggling hysterically. “Daddy stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants!”

“Don’t get him so riled up,” Esme scolds. “It’s almost n-a-p time and you’re going to get him all worked up and it will never happen.”

“Mummy’s a party pooper,” Tyler says, and gathers Takota in his arms and settles him against his chest; lips finding his temple, palm coming to rest on the side of his head. The four year old gives a content sigh; arms once more curling around his dad’s neck, cheek pressed against the cotton of his henley shirt. “Tired?”

“No.”

“I think you’re lying. I think you ARE tired. Wanna go for a nap? I think you should go for a nap. Naps are good. You’ll love naps when you’re older.”

“Not tired. No nap.”

“How about if I lie down with you? Have my own little sleep? Would you nap then?”

“Maybe,” Takota singsongs.

“Let’s go and find out. Let’s at least try, yeah? Daddy could use a nap.”

“Daddy’s escaping,” Esme grumbles. “Daddy thinks he’s clever.”

“Daddy knows he’s clever,” he retorts, sliding a forearm under Takota’s bum and then standing up; wincing and muttering a barely ‘audible’ fuck as he’s assailed by pain in both the small of his back and his right knee. It’s a bitch of a thing; forty seven years old, getting yourself into what SHOULD be the best shape of your life, and having days where you feel like you’re ninety. It isn’t as bad as before; no longer chronic and debilitating. But there are moments of weakness where he longs for the relief brought on by the mixture of oxy and booze.

“You alright?” Esme’s face is lined with worry; hand resting on his hip as he leans down to kiss her. It’s hard for her to turn off; the worry -and even the fear- that comes with the vivid recollection of the damage that had been inflicted upon him. She’d seen it with her own two eyes; TWICE. And she’d been the one accompanying him to painful and gruelling physiotherapy sessions; the person entrusted to manage his pain meds, the only one he let himself be vulnerable with and would cry to when it all got to be too much to bear. “You can take more meds. The day’s still young and you’re nowhere near your limit.”

“If it gets worse I’ll take some,” he assures her, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “I promise.”

“Don’t let yourself suffer,” she whispers. “ There’s no need for that. Just take the meds. Don’t do that to yourself, okay? I don’t want you suffering.”

“I’m fine right now. If it gets worse, I’ll grab some. Takota, give mummy a kiss. She needs a kiss.”

“Love you mumma,” the four year old says, as he dangles over her and he lands a peck on her lips.

“I love you. Both of you. Sleep well. Just a little nap, okay? You don’t sleep tonight, Santa won’t come.”

“Just a little sleep,” Takota promises. “Daddy’s tired.”

“That’s because daddy's old and his body is falling apart,” Tyler says, and then slings his son over his shoulder; fingers hooked around one of the belt loops on Takota’s jeans, effectively and safely keeping him in place.

Esme watches as they go; Takota’s giggles and his pleads of ‘don’t drop me, daddy!’ and her husband’s constant reassurances and promise. His long and purposeful gait familiar; the slight hitch of the hip and the limp that becomes more pronounced when he’s tired or the nerve issues are bothering him or the arthritis is acting up. But none of that matters; the dents and the blemishes and the damages done. He’s beautiful no matter what; surviving the worst possible circumstances and surpassing all the odds that had been stacked against him. Fighting battles with his own mind every day; forcing himself to open his eyes and pull himself out of bed for the sake of his wife and children. And THAT’S what makes him truly brave; the ongoing war against his own brain and somehow managing to keep going and put one foot in front of the other.

*****

She checks on them an hour later; father and son fast asleep on a twin bed riddled with wrinkled sheets and stuffed animals. A long and muscular body looking even more so in such a small confined space; impossibly long legs stretching the length of the mattress, feet dangling over the edge. Tyler rests on his back with Takota on top of him; a flushed cheek pressed against a broad chest, strong, tattooed arms wrapped tightly around a tiny body, and a large hand protectively placed in the middle of a slowly rising and falling back. Both snoring lightly; lips slightly parted and their eyelids flickering as they dream, hair already mussed and slightly damp from sweat. She pauses at the side of the bed; running fingers through thick tresses and pressing kisses to foreheads; eyes closed as she breathes in the familiar scents that cling to both of their bodies. The biggest and the smallest men in her life; both so beautiful and perfect. Takota with his meek and mild disposition; shy to a fault and profoundly sensitive. Tyler with his enormous body and the scars and blemishes serving as reminders of a hard life; his heart so big and proud and loving with so much power and fierceness. It’s a side not many get to see; knowing him solely as a ‘tough guy’ with a checkered past and blood on his hands. But to know him...TRULY know him...is an honour bestowed on a select view; privy to what makes him laugh and what brings out that smile that reaches his eyes and what touches his heart and brings out that softer, more vulnerable side.

She had been one of the lucky ones; giving him an understanding and non judgmental ear and a safe place to land even from day one. He’d opened up easily and effortlessly. The first night in Dhaka -as they lay in a mess of tangled sheets and naked, sweaty limbs- confiding in her about the loss of his son and how the terrible choice he’d made at led him to the job; his drinking problem getting him kicked out of SASR, war injuries sustained leading to an addiction pain medication, the extent of his guilt, regret, and grief driving him to choose a dangerous yet fairly lucrative career. He DID have a death wish; he didn’t deny it and had confessed that he’d been too scared to do the deed himself and that with every job he took, he hoped and prayed a sniper’s bullet would finally hit its mark. He couldn’t understand WHY it hadn’t happened yet; why was he allowed to keep living when he abandoned his own child while he was suffering so badly? Was it punishment? Was he destined to live a life on the edge yet never meet his demise? Was that the plan? Make him suffer as much as possible -mentally and physically- but not actually kill him? It was the first time a man had ever been that open and honest with her; Mark was extremely closed off and strayed far away from sharing feelings and showing emotion. And her ex-boyfriends had been high school classmates; young and immature and with relatively clean slates.

Tyler had been different. She’d recognized it the moment she met him; his hands surprisingly soft and gentle despite the calluses on his palms and the damaged, misshapen knuckles. He had beautiful eyes; brilliant blue yet possessing a staggering amount of sadness, his smile never reaching them. He was a man with deep, profound secrets and a lot of pain; both physical AND emotional. It had been less than half an hour; from the time she’d stepped onto his front porch and their gaze had met through the open door to when she’d left to join Nik and Yaz on the flight to Fitzroy Crossing. Yet she’d found him intriguing. His simple way of life in that ramshackle house; built by hand and poorly maintained yet obviously giving him a sense of home and security. The tattoos and the scars and the strong, powerful build and a shockingly handsome face. A man that came with quite the reputation; skilled and savage and seemingly fearless. Someone with a dark, dangerous and mysterious past yet the kindest hands and one of the softest -if not entirely genuine- smiles she’d ever come across. And she’d liked that smile; the way he would tuck his chin into his chest and give a small chuckle and the corners of his mouth would just ever so slightly lift. And despite those humble surroundings and his simple attire, he’d smelled so good; a mixture of fresh air and salt water and the slightest tinges of coconut and whiskey.

The attraction had been there; right from that first handshake. She can remember thinking how it wouldn’t be so bad to just give in to primal urges; indulge in nothing more than mindless, no strings attached sex. To just surrender to physical and sexual attraction; allowing herself nothing more than being pleasured and pleasuring someone in return. After all, there was no chance anything COULD come of it; the job was no place to find a romantic partner and with thousands of miles between their homes, there was no possibility of ever really getting the chance to connect and get to know one another. A second marriage and children had never been in her wheelhouse; Mark destroying her and breaking her and stripping her down to a weakened and more vulnerable version of herself. She wouldn’t go through that again; give her heart and all her trust and faithfulness to one man, only to have them betray and hurt her. And that’s all she’d really wanted it to be; sex with an incredibly attractive man with a dark and dangerous reputation. She didn’t have the time or tolerance for anything BUT that; enjoying being single and independent and not feeling as if she had to answer to anyone.

In the blink of an eye, it all changed. That first night in Dhaka turning out to be much more than she ever expected or bargained for. Seeing him in a way he didn’t let anyone else see him; trusting her and confiding in her and being as raw and honest and vulnerable as he could possibly be. And she’d turned around and done the same; talking about the loss of her father and her abusive marriage and the loss of her identity and her journey to find it again. Mindless, no strings attached sex quickly became something so much more; the deep and intense conversations, the way he’d smile -genuinely smile- when she’d tease him about his accent or about how tall he was or how big his feet were. The way those big, strong arms felt when they wrapped around her and drew her tightly into him. And it was the exchange of long and soft kisses even though she’d told herself she wouldn’t do THAT; kissing way too personal and leading to the development of feelings. Which were way too dangerous.

She’d gone into it expecting something purely physical and came out with so much more. A best friend. A confidant. A protector. A lover that turned into a husband and who had helped her make seven beautiful, incredible little human beings. Someone so wounded and damaged that loves so profoundly; a man that worships her and loves her with everything he is and everything he has. Who will protect her at all costs. Who has proven time and time again that he has her back no matter what; willing to suffer and die for her if need be.

It’s overwhelming. To be loved THAT much. It brings tears to her eyes even now as she stands at the side of the bed and watches him sleep; his face and body relaxed and peaceful. She pushes her fingers through his hair and brushes it away from his forehead; lips meeting smooth, warm skin. And when she goes to step away, he reaches for her; fingers capturing her hand and bringing it to his face; his eyes never opening as soft, warm lips press against her palm.

*****

“Nugget?” Esme raps her knuckles against the wooden barn door that closes the bottom bunk off to the rest of the room. “Are you awake in there?”

TJ and Declan have long departed; holed up in the family room with Millie and Alannah as the four quietly and civilly play a board game. Tanner had a hard time; seeing grandma again after so many years had been a difficult and nerve wracking moment for him. But he’d done his best despite the lingering trauma her treatment of him and the things she’d said have left behind; politely answering questions and thanking her for the Christmas gift, but refusing to show or accept any form of affection. Sometimes it’s all he can do to hold it together long enough for the simplest of greetings, and he’d done exceptionally given the troubled past with his grandmother. But he’d fled when she’d tried to get too close; screaming ‘no!’ in her face and pushing her away and then dissolving into tears as he fled the room and rushed upstairs to his safe place.

“I’m awake.” The little voice is shaky and higher pitched than usual; the remnants of tears and his meltdown noticeable.

“I thought I’d come and check on you. Are you okay? How are you doing in there?”

“I’m okay.” He sniffles noisily. “I’m fine.”

“I brought you a snack. One of those wraps that daddy makes; peanut butter with banana and chocolate syrup and coconut shavings. That’s your favourite, right?”

“Right.”

“Daddy didn’t make it, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I’ve been taking lessons from him; on how to make it EXACTLY how you like it. It comes with a glass of chocolate milk. If that makes my meal preparations any easier to stomach.”

Tanner manages a small laugh. “You’re not THAT bad at cooking, mummy. You’ve gotten a lot better. Daddy and I are teaching you pretty good.”

Esme chuckles. “You really are. Do you want it? Your snack?”

“Not right this second, but thank you. Can you put it close by? Where I can reach it easy?”

“I’ll put it right beside your bed,” she says, and then sets the items on the ground and fetches the chair from his desk; setting it beside the bottom bunk and then carefully placing the treats on the seat. “Daddy’s taking a nap, but when he gets up, we’re going to do gingerbread houses. I know how much you always enjoy that. Will you join us?”

“Will grandma be there?”

“She’s not into that kind of thing. I’m sure she’ll just hang out in the living room with grandpa. You don’t have to worry about her, okay? You just stick real close to daddy. He’ll keep you safe and sound. He always does, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to do your thing. Your snack is waiting for you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll be downstairs, alright?”

“Mumma?” A faint of rustling of sheets and then the click of the lock; a little face appearing as the door slides open. “Do you really have to go?”

“I don’t have to go anywhere. I just wanted to give you your space. But no. I don’t have to go.”

“Will you snuggle with me for a bit? We haven’t snuggled in a while. I miss it; mummy snuggles.”

Smiling, she toes off her slippers and climbs into the bottom bunk; Tanner sliding his smaller body over towards the wall and giving her ample space.

“You can be the big spoon,” he offers, and rolls onto his side and presses his back into her front. “You never get to the big spoon, I bet.”

“Not once in the last twelve and a half years,” she says, and drapes a leg over his and curls an arm around his waist. “Daddy is NOT fond of being the little spoon. He’s much more comfortable being the big spoon.”

“That’s because of toxic masculinity.”

“Something tells me you’re right.” She settles the side of her face against his pillow and stretches her arm out along the mattress; fingers repeatedly brushing through his hair. Pressing a kiss to the back of his head when she feels him lace his fingers through hers and then tightly squeezes her hand.

“Mumma?”

“Nugget?”

“I don’t like grandma.”

‘I know you don’t. And you don’t have to. I understand why you feel the way you do. And you have every right to feel it. She’s done a lot of bad things. And SAID a lot of bad things.”

“About daddy.” His voice quivers once again.

“About daddy,” Esme confirms, and tightens her hold on him. “But you know what? Nothing she says matters. Because we know it’s not true. We know that he’s a really good man. A really good daddy.”

“The best daddy ever. If I could pick daddies, I’d pick him. A million times over. Why does she hate him? Why does she say mean things about him?”

“I don’t know, baby boy. I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. I know it hurts; to hear people say horrible things about him. It hurts me too.”

“She said daddy was going to hell. Because you and him made Millie before you were married. Is that true?”

“No, baby. It’s not true. Daddy is NOT going to hell.”

“And she said she wished daddy would just die already,” Tanner bursts into tears; body shaking with the ferocity of his sobs. “That we’d be better off without him. That it would be better if he died. It wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be better AT ALL.”

“Nugget...come here…” She waits until he rolls onto his side to gather her into her arms. Pressing a series of kisses to the side of his head and his temple and his cheek; fingers buried in his hair as she holds him close. “...I am so sorry. That you had to hear those things. I am so, so, SO sorry.”

“Why would she say that? Why would she want daddy to die? Doesn’t she know we’d miss him? How sad we’d be? Does she hate him THAT much? Does she hate US? Is that why she doesn’t care if we’d be sad?”

“Tanner, I don’t know. I don’t know why she says the things she does. But she doesn’t hate you. She just wasn’t thinking; when she said the things she did. And I really am sorry. That she said those things about daddy. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something? When did this happen?”

“When you and daddy were in Ireland. And grandma came to help Ovi with us. Right before Ovi took us away. Grandma got mad because we were being bad. We were fighting and causing lots of noise and she got upset and that’s when she said it. She said that she wished you never met daddy. And that he was nothing but trouble and that we’d all be better off if he died already. If someone did us a favour and killed him.”

“Oh my God, Tanner. You’ve been holding onto that all this time?”

He nods.

“Baby boy…” She fights back against her own tears; a mixture of heartache and rage; hands shaking as her fingertips clear away the tears on her son’s cheeks. “...you should have told mommy. You should have called me and told me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you. And I didn’t want you telling daddy. I was worried if you told him, he’d get mad and you’d get into a fight and then he’d leave again. He’d move out like he did last time, only he wouldn’t come back. Ever.”

“Tanner, that never would have happened. Daddy and I never would have fought over that. And he never would have left us. What happened way back then? When he did leave and was gone for a while? Things were bad between us. Really bad. Remember?”

He nods.

“But daddy never would have gotten mad at you if you told him what grandma said. He would have been angry at her, but not at you. Or me. He would've done whatever he could to protect you from her. Daddy loves you so much. More than he loves himself. He would never, EVER, get mad at you for something like that.”

“I don’t want him to know. Don’t tell him, mummy. Please don't tell him. I don’t want it to hurt his brain. I don’t want it to make his brain sad.”

“Tanner, you have to…”

“No,” he insists. “I won’t tell him. And you won’t either. Please promise, mummy. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

Esme relents. “I won’t tell him. That’s your secret to tell. And you will one day. When you’re ready. When you think daddy is ready to hear it.”

“I don’t want him to die,” Tanner sobs. “I don’t want daddy to die.”

“He’s not going to die, Nugget. He’s here and he’s safe and sound. With us. He’s in the next room; napping with Takota.”

He sniffles. “Yeah?”

“Yup. I was just in there. They’re fast asleep, snoring away. Daddy is safe. He’s with us. He’s not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want him to go away ever again. It’s scary when he leaves. I’m always afraid he’s not going to come back.”

“So am I,” she admits. “I worry about the exact same thing.”

“Tell him he can’t leave anymore. Tell him that he has to stay. With us. That he’s not allowed to go. Tell him, mumma. Please tell him.”

“I will,” she promises, and cradles his face in her hands and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I am so sorry, Nugget. That you ever had to hear that. I know how much you love daddy. And believe me, he loves you just as much. Remember what I told you? About how he stayed with you in the hospital when you were born? When you were sick? And he didn’t want you to be alone?”

He nods. “And he picked my name.”

“He did. He loved the name Tanner. We wanted two T names, and that’s the one he picked right away and that’s the one he stuck with. That’s pretty cool, huh? That you’re the one daddy named?”

“It’s really cool. I like that; that he picked my name. It’s really special. Knowing he did.”

“Well you’re very special. You always have been. Right from the very beginning. You were so tiny when you were born; you fit right in the palm of daddy’s hand and your toes didn’t reach his wrist.”

“That IS tiny!”

“It is. You were super tiny. And daddy wouldn’t leave your side. He stayed in the special nursery with you and he slept in a chair beside your bed and he made sure you got the best care and the best nurses. He wasn’t leaving you alone. He knew that you needed him. And you know what? He needed YOU too.”

“He did?”

“He did. He needed that time with you. You and your brother were the first boys after Austin. That’s a pretty big deal. Daddy never thought he’d have any kids again, never mind a boy He got two! At the same time. That was pretty special for him. Getting not just one son, but two.”

“Did he cry?”

“He did. He cried when he got to hold TJ and he cried when he got to hold you. He was the only one who got to hold you right away. Because you needed help and they sent you to the special nursery to be looked after. And he went with you and never left. Not until I was able to come and see you.”

“That’s proof, you know. That daddy loves me.”

“He loves you so much, Tanner. More than he could ever tell you. You have no idea how much he loves you. How proud he is of you. And he’s pretty good, right? As a daddy?”

“He’s an awesome daddy. All the kids at school are jealous. ‘Cause he’s big and has muscles and cool tattoos. None of their dads have those things. Just mine. Their dads are lame. My dad’s cool.” He rubs his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “If you met daddy a different way, would you have still fallen in love with him?”

“I imagine I would have. I can’t see why not. He’d still be daddy; he’d still look the same. And it’s kind of hard NOT to love him.”

“How would you have met him? If you guys didn't do the same job?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I would have gone to Australia on a trip and met him that way. Or maybe he would have come to Colorado and we would have bumped into each other somewhere. What do you think?”

“A singles cruise.”

“A singles cruise?” Esme laughs. “Why a singles cruise? And how do you even know about those?”

“I saw a commercial on tv. And then I googled it. I bet you and daddy would have met on a singles cruise.”

“I don’t know about that, Nugget. Daddy isn’t really the cruise kind of guy.”

“Maybe you would have met at the supermarket. On your trip to Australia. Maybe he would have been in line in front of you when you were waiting to pay for your groceries. Or maybe he would have been behind you and when you didn’t have enough money, he’d give you some. Or pay for your stuff. Daddy would do that; pay for a pretty girl’s stuff.”

“I kind of like that idea. Meeting my knight in shining armour at the grocery store. Him coming to my rescue right when I needed it.”

“You still would have liked him? If you met him that way?”

“I definitely would have. A handsome guy doing something like THAT? How could I not?”

“And he’d still look like daddy. He’d have the blue eyes and the cool hair and the big muscles. And the nice butt.”

Esme laughs. “Yeah, he would. I would have for sure noticed all of that.”

“You would have went out with him if he asked you on a date?”

“I definitely would have. I probably would have even let him kiss me.”

Tanner’s eyes widen. “On the first date? Mummy, that’s scandalous!”

“Hey, when you know, you know. And I knew. Pretty quick. That your daddy was the one for me.”

“Did he know too? That you were the one for him?”

“I don’t know. I THINK he did. He won’t admit it, though.”

“I’m going to ask him. If he knew right away you were the one for him. He’ll tell me. I know he will.”

“Well good luck with that. Are we good here? Are you calm now? Are you glad you told me what you did?”

Tanner nods. “I feel a hundred pounds lighter. That was a lot to carry around. Especially for so long. You’re not going to tell daddy, right?”

“I promised I wouldn't. But I really think YOU should.”

“I will when I’m ready. I swear I will.”

“Okay,” she agrees, then smooths his hair away from his face and presses a kiss to his brow. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too. Thank you for being my mum.”

“Thank you FOR picking me to be your mom.”

“And thanks for having sex with daddy. If you didn’t, none of us would be here.”

She laughs at that. “You know what, it was a difficult thing to do, but I managed. And I’ll lethim know that you appreciate his participation. And his cooperation.”

“You know…” Tanner flops onto his back, hands behind his head. “...you and daddy make a weird couple. Not weird in a bad way. Just a different way.”

Esme props herself up on her elbow, cheek resting in her upturned palm. “How so?”

“You’re so tiny and he’s so big. It’s funny when you stand side by side or when you walk down the street together. Because it’s SO noticeable; how tall he is and how short you are. And it’s really sweet; when he goes to kiss you and you stand on the top of his feet AND on your tiptoes and he STILL has to bend down.”

“Well what can I say? Your dad is freakishly tall.”

“And you’re freakishly tiny.”

“Hey!” She reaches out to tickle his tummy; smiling at the way his eyes scrunch shut and he giggles. “Don’t you start taking after him when it comes to trash talking my height!”

“Daddy’s right, mum. You ARE small enough for him to pick you up and put in his pocket. And that’s cute. REALLY cute.”

“YOU’RE cute,” she says, and places a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to go and get daddy up and get him started on setting up all the stuff for gingerbread houses. You going to join us?”

“In a while. I want to have my snack first.”

She tousles his hair and pecks his lips before sliding off the bunk. “I’ve got it ready and waiting, good sir. I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Do you want things closed back up?”

“No. I’m okay now. Thanks, mum.”

“See you soon,” she says, and presses a kiss to two of her fingertips and then reaches out and places them against the tip of his nose. “Bring the dirty dishes downstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” Tanner agrees. “Mumma?”

Esme pauses in the doorway.

“Thank you. For loving me like you do.”

Smiling through the threatening flood of tears, she swallows noisily around the lump of emotion sitting square in her throat. “You make it very easy, Nugget.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

[littlespoonevan]

Gallavich + facing each other in bed, andd caressing each other's faces before falling asleep :')

sooo i don’t know if this was meant to be a prompt but i made it one lol. i’ve been wanting to write about the aftermath of 4x11 for a long time and exercise my hurt/comfort muscles so here’s my take on what happens after mickey’s coming out scene

enjoy :’)

*

The walk home is quiet, the only sound theirfootsteps on the wet pavement and their hushed breaths forming little clouds inthe air. Ian doesn’t hold Mickey’s hand, no matter how much he wants to.Tonight has already been too much without something like that pushing him overthe edge. Instead he lets their arms brush with every second step.

It surprises him though when they reach his streetthat Mickey’s the one to reach out and take his hand.

Ian looks at him but doesn’t stop walking, doesn’twant to give Mickey time to try and pull back. Mickey’s expression is hard tomake out in the dark with the dried blood still all over his face but Ian can atthe very least tell he doesn’t want him to say anything. So he squeezes Mickey’shand and tows him toward the Gallagher house.

Kev must’ve text Fiona when shit went down becauseshe’s still up when they come through the front door, sitting braced on thearmchair with a mug of what’s most likely spiked coffee between her hands. Sheflies out of her seat when she takes in the sight of them.

“Holy shit, what-“

“We’re fine,” Ian cuts in, keeping his voice low inan attempt not to wake anyone else up. Mickey doesn’t need an audience rightnow.

Fiona clamps her mouth shut though she looks like she’dmuch rather be talking. She must see something in Ian’s expression thoughbecause her eyes flicker to Mickey and then, briefly to their hands, and shenods. “Want me to call V?”

Ian shakes his head. “S’not as bad as it looks,” hepromises. “We’re gonna get cleaned up.”

Fiona nods again, hesitating a moment before shespeaks. “Terry back in lockup?”

Mickey answers this time and Ian can tell he’s tryingto joke but the bone-deep exhaustion and barest hint of anxiety evident in hisvoice makes it fall flat. “For a long fuckin’ time hopefully.”

And Ian can’t take it anymore, feels a burning needto get his hands on Mickey. To take care of him, to hold him, to salvage thishorrific fucking night. “Night, Fi,” he whispers, slipping his hand out ofMickey’s to grip his shoulders and steer him gently in the direction of thestairs.

It says a lot about how close Mickey must be tobreaking point that he doesn’t even protest, just lets Ian guide him.

Ian lets go of him once they reach the bathroom butonly to close the door. When he turns back around Mickey is standing listlesslyin the middle of the room and Ian nods to the closed toilet seat. “Here, sitdown,” he says, nudging around Mickey to get the first aid kit from under thesink. “You can take a shower in a sec, let me just clean the worst of it first.”

Mickey huffs a tired laugh as he sits down. “You finda new career without tellin’ me, Gallagher?”

Ian bites back a smile and kneels down in front ofMickey so they’re eye to eye. “Picked up a few things when Ned was getting a bulletoutta your ass.”

Mickey laughs again but it’s really more of anexhale. There’s faint smile on his face though. “Fuck, man. My head hurts.”

Ian winces in sympathy as Mickey closes his eyes –whatever the fuck Terry did to his ribs makes his chest ache with every breathso he gets it. “You think it’s a concussion?” he asks softly as he digs out theantiseptic wipes from the first aid kit, keeping one hand on Mickey’s knee –less to keep him steady and more because he doesn’t feel like letting go of himright now.

“Dunno,” Mickey shrugs half-heartedly, keeping hiseyes closed as Ian wipes the dirt and blood from his face. “Probably justfuckin’ tired.”

“Probably,” Ian agrees. “Your nose doesn’t look thatbad. Doesn’t look deep enough for stitches.”

Mickey cracks an eye open and appraises him. “Christ,Ian. Maybe you should become a nurse.”

Ian laughs, gently though – he learned his lessonearlier. “I’d get plenty of practice with you around.”

Mickey huffs again, his almost-laugh. “You want me toreturn the favour?” he asks when Ian’s finished with his face, fingers idlyfolding around the collar of the coat Ian’s still wearing.

“I’m good,” Ian assures him, swaying forward to pressa kiss to Mickey’s temple. “Let’s just shower and go to bed.”

The words look to be a relief to Mickey and he nods,letting Ian haul him up to stand again. Ian sets the water running while theyget out of their clothes, testing it with his hand before climbing in andMickey follows behind him. Ian pulls him under the spray and reaches for hisshampoo, squirting some onto his hand and reaching for Mickey’s hair.

Mickey lets out a quiet breath, closing his eyes whenIan’s hands run through his hair and Ian feels some of the tension in his ownstomach unfurl as he washes Mickey’s hair, working out the dried blood. Mickeyreaches for him at some point, seemingly intent on doing the same for Ian.

His fingers curl around Ian’s jaw at first, thumbshelping the water wash the blood off Ian’s face before he starts working on hishair. Ian’s not sure how long they stand like that until he can’t take it anymoreand closes the distance between them, pulling Mickey into his arms.

Mickey releases a shuddering breath as Ian’s armsclose around him, his own arms twisting across Ian’s back as his fingers clutchat Ian’s shoulderblades. His face is buried in the crook of Ian’s neck and Iancan feel the way his breath stutters. He knows the weight of what’s happenedtonight is finally hitting Mickey full force.

And he can’t help feeling an unbearable type ofguilt. For pushing Mickey, for making him choose, as if anything about thisentire situation has been as simple as Mickey wanting to keep them a secret. Hejust- it’s fucking irrational and stupid but it hurt feeling he couldn’t be with Mickey the way he wanted to, likethere was this whole other life being planned out for Mickey that Ian would oneday be exiled from. It’s selfish and he hates himself for putting Mickey inthis position but he promises himself he’ll do whatever he has to now toprotect Mickey, to put him first with whatever shit they’ve got coming theirway. He has to.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, carding his fingers throughMickey’s wet hair and speaking the words into Mickey’s shoulder. “I don’t knowwhat I expected to happen.”

Mickey shrugs against him, arms tightening just slightly.“Was gonna have to happen sooner or later.”

Ian pulls back a fraction to meet Mickey’s gaze, offeringhim a sad smile as he runs a finger under the cut on Mickey’s forehead. “Notlike that though.”

Mickey looks at him, a resigned look on his face ashe sighs. “Ian, it was always gonna happen like that. Whether there were fiftypeople in the room or just me and him. It was always gonna be like that. Atleast this way there were some fucking witnesses.”

Small blessings, Ian supposes.

“I’m still sorry,” Ian tells him. “I never wanted youto get hurt.”

“I know,” Mickey says, voice quiet as he leansagainst Ian. “Can we crash now? Feel like I’m dead on my feet.”

Ian nods and shuts off the water. Ian finds themtowels to dry off before going into the bedroom to get boxers and t-shirts forthem both. The only one in the bedroom is Carl, fast asleep in the top bunk.Liam must be in Fiona’s room and Ian reminds himself to thank his sister in themorning for giving them some modicum of privacy.

He returns to the bathroom with their clothes andafter changing and shoving their dirty towels down the laundry shoot they maketheir way back to the bedroom.

Mickey completely forgoes his makeshift camp on thefloor to follow Ian straight into his bed and Ian tries not to react toovisibly. Can’t believe this is actually happening. He can count on one hand theamount of times they’ve shared a bed for real. And while he wishes this wereunder different circumstances he’s going to savour the moment for all that itis.

His bed is too small for them to have much space butIan doesn’t care. By the looks of it, Mickey doesn’t either considering the wayhis legs immediately tangle with Ian’s under the covers. When they’re settledIan lifts his hand, smoothing the hair back off Mickey’s forehead before lettinghis fingers cradle his cheek.

He can just about make out the way the corner ofMickey’s mouth lifts in a smile at the touch.

They stay like that for a minute, still except forthe way Ian’s thumb brushes lightly over Mickey’s cheekbone. Then, tentatively,almost as if he’s never let himself dare try this before Mickey’s hand comes upto rest on Ian’s neck.

Ian’s too tired to grin the way he wants to so hejust lets his mouth twist up in a closed-mouth, contented smile. His eyesprobably give him away anyway.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers after a while. “Whatyou said before – about feeling free.”

Mickey tenses and Ian can tell so he keeps his thumbmoving across Mickey’s cheek, twists his legs around Mickey’s even moretightly. Tries to ground him in whatever way he can.

“Yeah,” Mickey says finally, soft and defeated.

And Ian doesn’t want him to think those words are aweakness, not when they’re the bravest thing Mickey’s ever said to him short ofwhat he’d done less than an hour later.

“For me too,” Ian says then, voice quiet and far tootender. “I’ve always felt free with you,” he explains. “Nothing’s ever made mefeel the way you do. Don’t think anything else could.”

He can feel Mickey’s eyes on him and he’s not surewhat Mickey can make out in the dark but eventually, the hand Mickey’s has onhis neck moves and curls around Ian’s jaw. In the next breath Mickey tips theirforeheads together and Ian’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

“It’s you, Gallagher,” Mickey whispers. “Don’t knowwhat anyone else has to offer but I don’t want it. Just you.”

Ian kisses him then because he can’t not. Just agentle press – one that he tries to infuse with as much love and devotion as hepossibly can. He doesn’t move away when he pulls back, keeps his foreheadagainst Mickey’s and the scant inch of space between their mouths. It’s barelyclose enough.

The words Ilove you are on the tip of his tongue and he wants to say them. Over andover again until there isn’t a single doubt in Mickey’s mind. But there havealready been so many confessions tonight he’s not sure if either of them cantake much more.

So instead he touches Mickey’s bottom lip with thetip of his thumb, then the corner of his mouth where a barely-there smile stillsits and whispers, “Night, Mick.”

Mickey’s fingers run through his hair before trailinghis cheek until they finally find their way back to Ian’s neck and fall torest.

“Night, Ian.”

*

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #dancewithyoutoday #my fics #asks

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 5: Amaryllis

Day one: the investigation begins.

❃❃❃

“Are we there yet? My legs can’t take it anymooore.” Hattie whined.

Despite the coffee and hearty breakfast she had enjoyed only moments earlier, the girl was still sluggish as the team walked to the precinct. It was hardly further than their excursion from yesterday, but the journey today seemed to be taking longer than usual, especially in the slow hours of the early morning.

“If you stopped dragging your feet, maybe we’ll get there faster.” remarked Lillian, a bit exasperated. “You’ve been awake for over an hour, had two cans of coffee, and you got the same amount of sleep you always get. How are you still drowsy?”

“…I dunno. Circadian rhythms?”

“It’s only two blocks away, don’t worry.” Amaryllis reassured Hattie.

Cait was in front of all of them, and in a much better mood than their teal-togged teammate. “Remind me to thank you, Lillian. This is sure to be much more cool than yesterday.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “I don’t think it’s going to be that ‘cool’ once you consider what we’re dealing with.” She responded, remembering how distraught Rudyard had looked.

***

A couple of minutes later, they reached the precinct and headed up to Yuen’s office. The second they opened the door, they were greeted by several storage boxes and piles of paper scattered on the seats around the doorway. Sardion and Rudyard were both looking over copied reports, while Detective Yuen was arranging new pins on the corkboard.

“Good morning, Team LLAC. Please sit down, we need to brief you on what we’re going to do today.” Yuen ordered, barely turning her head as she placed a report footnote on the board. As they did so, she turned to one of the supply boxes and lifted it onto her desk.

“Umff— Today, we’re going to be taking a further look at the crime scene for material evidence. Anything you can find, mark it and let us know. It could be a household object out of place, a scrap of clothing you don’t recognize, a mark on the floor or wall. Anything that doesn’t belong in the area, report it. Here are some things you need.” She pulled several pairs of gloves from the supply box, as well as two smaller boxes of identification markers. “And finally, this should go without saying, but do try not touch any piece of possible evidence. Last thing we need is someone getting labelled as a suspect because they accidentally left their fingerprints on it.” She finished, distributing the equipment to the group.

It felt a bit unusual for LLAC— Lionheart had spoken to them earlier as if they were off on a Search and Destroy mission, but latex gloves and plastic site markers weren’t exactly the attire and equipment to go for when fighting.

“We’ll make sure to follow everything you said to the letter, Detective.” Lillian confidently assured her.

Yuen nodded. “Good, we’re counting on you. Any advances you make today will help this case greatly.” She stood up and picked up her weapon of choice - a polymer handgun - and made one last adjustment to the collar of her uniform as she tucked in into her hip holster. “Shall we go?” She asked.

“Yes, let’s. Time’s a-wasting.” Sardion spoke as he got to his feet and followed her out the door. Cait, Hattie, and Amaryllis all did the same, leaving Rudyard and Lillian inside the office.

Turning to her mentor, Lillian noticed that his attention had turned to the pictures on the board. “You doing okay there, Rudyard?” she worried.

Rudyard nodded solemnly. “I’ll be fine.” After a second, he added, “Just promise me that you and your teammates will watch each other’s backs while you’re out there? Don’t be as careless as I was. Just because they’re good fighters doesn’t mean that they’re safe from harm.”

“If we only watch each other’s backs, how are we gonna be able to walk properly? I’m afraid one of us might trip.” Lillian replied, cracking a weak pun to see if she could garner a laugh.

Rudyard paused, then let out a small chuckle. “I’m serious, though, Lil-Lil. We don’t know yet what’s out there.”

***

Yaara and Berilo’s houses were both fairly close together, in a residential neighborhood at the top of the Sora District, not far off from the restaurant where LLAC had enjoyed their milkshakes the other day. According to Rudyard, both of them had wanted ‘peaceful lives away from all of the city buzz’— for all the good that had done them, apparently. After graduating from Haven Academy and beginning their Huntsmen lives outside the city proper, they had kept themselves out of the limelight, apart from the occasional appearance at Haven alumni ceremonies.

Rudyard had always assumed that Yaara and Berilo, despite never having married, had been boning one another. They had never explicitly denied it, and the proximity of their homes only heightened that assumption.

“Miss Dailan’s house is right around that corner. We should split up now. We’ll meet back here before dusk.” Yuen said, before turning to Rudyard and Sardion.

The group nodded and said their goodbyes to the adults. Lillian gave one last smile of reassurance to Rudyard, just to let him know she’d be okay. While his mustache concealed his closed mouth, she could tell he returned it by the way its edges curled.

“So, where are we looking at first?” Hattie asked, turning to eye the house. If they wanted to thoroughly cover the entire place before the sun went down, they had to start soon.

“I’ll look inside Berilo’s house.” Lillian suggested. “There’s a garden and gazebo in the back, too. I say we split up into groups of two. Cait, if you’ll take the back?”

“‘Kay, sounds good. Who’s coming with me?” Cait looked at their teammates, spreading their arms.

Hattie’s hand shot up in the air. “Me! Me! Mememe!” She declared, bouncing on her heels.

Cait smirked. “Alright, then that leaves the wonder girls together. We’ll see you two later! Come on, Hattie! Adventure awaits!” They let her grab their arm as they walked around the side towards the backyard.

“I wish I was a wonder girl,” remarked Hattie. “Hmph.”

“Oh, don’t worry, all of us are wonder girls in our own little way.” Cait reassured her, still maintaining their cheshire grin.

Hattie turned her head to face them. “But you aren’t a girl, Cait.” She remarked quizzically. “Or a guy, for that matter.”

Cait shrugged. “Yeah, but hey, I’d take it as a compliment nonetheless. It doesn’t really matter that much to me s’long as it has ‘wonder’ in front of it.”

Amaryllis chuckled as she watched Cait walk away with Hattie. Despite everything, the former tended to be quiet more often than not, but whenever Hattie was around, they wouldn’t stop talking.

Lillian, meanwhile, walked up to the front door, which was cordoned off by yellow tape reading “CRIME SCENE - DO NOT CROSS” in blocky black letters.

“Let’s get started, Am.” she said, ducking under the tape into the house.

***

The atmosphere inside Berilo’s home was horribly eerie, despite the fact that not a soul besides the two girls was currently within the walls. An cup of now-cold tea rested on the kitchen counter, likely what he had planned to drink on the night of his murder. Aside from the living room, the rest of the domicile was immaculately kept— if it wasn’t for the large pool of dried blood in the center of the living room, no one would have likely been the wiser to the fact that a murder had taken place. Several black strings tagged with small numbers extended from the bloodstain to small flecks on the wall and couch, likely the work of a forensic technician.

After more than three long hours of careful inspection, however, Lillian and Amaryllis still hadn’t found any further clues. Whatever was out of place (which was few and far between) had already been tagged by the police.

“…I wonder how Hattie and Cait are doing outside. Do you think they’ve found anything?” Amaryllis wondered aloud, moreso an attempt at conversation to alleviate her unease.

“Probably not. The second they did, knowing Hattie, she’d blast in right through the wall to tell us.” answered Lillian, parsing over a small bookshelf. “Like that weird drink commercial.”

“Yeah…” Amaryllis sighed. Exhaling harshly through her nose, she changed the topic; “Don’t you find that we’re investigating the deaths of our predecessors? I can’t believe they’re gone so quick, and so brutally.”  After Rudyard had taken Lillian under his wing, Amaryllis had found a sense of respect for SYBR— a bit of research had quickly brought up the team’s Vytal victory, and while she hadn’t gotten to know them very well aside from Rudyard, they had always seemed as kind as they were skilled.

“No kidding. It’s the lucky ones that’re fortunate enough to have old age take them. Just didn’t happen to be the fate in store for Yaara and Berilo…” answered Lillian. “Not to be a downer, but I think if one of us two were to bite the big one, it would be better if I passed on first.”

“What makes you say that?” Amaryllis asked, taken aback with Lillian’s words.

“You’re the one with the big heart, Amaryllis. At least you’d be there for others as they’d be there for you. Me, on the other hand… well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

Amaryllis slowly shook her head. “I couldn’t bear to see you die, Lilly. Between the two of us, you’ve always been the one with the indomitable heart.” She said softly. “Sure, you’re the older sister and it’s your responsibility to act like you’re tough and stoic and all… but I honestly don’t think I could go on if I lost you.” she continued, her tone betraying a hint of playfulness as she jabbed at Lillian.

It was true for both of them, however— the Armilde sisters had been inseparable since they were in the womb. To either of them, the thought of losing one another was the worst thing imaginable.

Lillian turned to face her sister, her expression unreadable. “Hey, Am…”

“Hmmm?”

“…You aren’t getting all mushy on me, are you?” She asked, her mouth curling into a smirk.

Amaryllis sputtered, before she started laughing at her sister’s comeback. “Well, not anymore I’m not! Way to kill the mood, musclehead.”

#team llac #team llac fic #harriet lazuli #lillian armilde #amaryllis armilde #cait miya #team sybr #sardion sarikaya #rudyard millard #agave yuen #fanfic #fan fiction #rwby fan fiction #rwby oc #rwbyoc #rwby

[justatiredghost]

Unsolved Academy Ch11 - End

Klaus and Dave run a Buzzfeed Unsolved-style tv show and they’ve just gotten engaged. (Since the plot is now essentially wrapped up, I’m marking this fic as complete. However, I still have some ideas that I might add as bonus episodes later)

“Just so you know,” Dave said. “I seriously considered proposing in some super fancy restaurant.”

They were holding hands as they walked home from their adventurous night out, their steps slow and casual like they didn’t want the night to end, both of them wearing their rings. Klaus raised their clasped hands periodically to suck on what little candy remained on his RingPop despite the awkward angle. Dave’s was already gone. 

“And how exactly did you think we would be paying for that?” Klaus asked, laughing against Dave’s shoulder.

“Now, see, that’s the beauty of it,” Dave said, raising a hand as he laid out his scheme. “If we’d conveniently forgotten our wallets, surely they’d simply let us go. We’d just gotten engaged after all! It’d be kind of a dick move to accuse us of anything or demand payment. I decided against it though, I’d feel bad not being able to leave a proper tip.”

“Amazing,” Klaus laughed, leaning into him. “Man after my own heart.”

By the time they made it back to the house, enough time had gone by that it could charitably be called early morning. Ben was already up and eating breakfast like a responsible adult, no doubt getting ready to head to class. Klaus was still full of too much energy and excitement and didn’t waste any time.

“Ben!” he exclaimed, bounding up to him and holding up his hand. “Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, look! We’re getting married!”

“About time,” Ben said with a smile, looking truly happy for them. 

“Wait, why don’t you look surprised?” Klaus asked, immediately suspicious when Dave blushed crimson and avoided eye contact. 

“Your fiancé there actually asked for my blessing,” Ben chuckled. 

“What?” Klaus said, drawing out the world, and he couldn’t help but laugh, wishing he could have been there to see it. 

“What? I don’t know how these things work. I never thought this sort of thing would apply to me so I never really paid attention.”

“You are too adorable,” Klaus said, pinching his cheek.

“Did he propose with the RingPop?” Ben asked. “I thought it was a nice touch.”

“Oh yeah, and check this out, you’re never going to believe this,” Klaus held up Dave’s hand to show off the plastic ring there as well. 

“Klaus also got a RingPop to propose with,” Dave explained. 

“Oh my god,” Ben laughed. “You have got to be kidding me. You guys really are ridiculous.”

Klaus beamed at that, finding Dave’s hand again and squeezing tightly.

“Come on,” Dave said to him. “We’ve been up all night, I think we’ve earned some sleep.”

“Good idea. See ya, Ben, good luck in class.”

“Sleep well,” Ben said, smiling and shaking his head as he watched them go. 

-

“Klaus Katz,” Klaus said dreamily, hand up in the air as he examined the ring on his finger as if it had a diamond on it. He rolled over on the bed and scooted closer to Dave, taking his hand as he did so. “I think I like the sound of that.” 

“Hmm, I dunno,” Dave chuckled, so close that their noses bumped.

“What? I think it’s perfect. It might as well be alliterative and over the top. Go all in, baby.”

“Over the top is definitely you, but what about Dave Hargreeves?” Dave countered.

“Aww, have you been doodling that in notebooks?” Klaus asked. “Maybe with little hearts around it?”

“Maybe,” Dave said evasively, grinning.

“Adorable. But really, you don’t want to take that name,” Klaus chuckled. “I’m fine with leaving it and all of Reggie’s legacy in the dust.”

“Is that really what you want?” Dave said, voice thoughtful as he ran a hand absently through Klaus’ hair. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, fuck your old man, but it’s not his name I’m taking. It’s yours. It’s the family you and your siblings are making. You took all the shit he dumped on you and you’re turning it into something good. A real family. And I’m honored to be a part of that.”

He extended Klaus’ arm so he could run his thumb gently across the umbrella tattoo there. Honestly, Klaus would have gotten it covered up with a different design a long time ago if he hadn’t found the entire thing so hilarious; a ‘fuck you’ to dear old dad, having his symbol on his greatest failure, and wasn’t Klaus just the perfect representation of how the whole Umbrella Academy business had turned out? Quite literally in the gutter. But Reginald was dead and this didn’t have to be about him any longer. 

After they’d saved the world, Klaus was actually truly glad he hadn’t gotten it covered or removed. Sure, there was still a lot of pain there, but Dave was right, they were making this their own, repairing their relationships and building the family they’d never had. And to represent that, he and his siblings had gone out and gotten the old faded tattoos touched up, tweaking the design to be their own, to represent something else. Something new. 

None of them had really bothered to put it into words but Klaus supposed it sort of existed as a representation of a promise to try to do better by each other, to make sure none of them had to feel so alone and helpless again. And this time, Vanya was a part of it. Not because she had powers now but because she was their sister.

“But you don’t need to keep the name to keep your family,” Dave continued. “So if your dad is all you think about when you hear the name, then by all means, ditch it. It’s just, I know how hard you’ve tried to keep me away from everything he did and how glad you are I never had to meet him. I just don’t want you to give anything up for me that you might regret.”

“I’m not going to regret anything with you,” Klaus said, placing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“Good. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Because you’re my family.”

“Oh my god! You are too sentimental, you know that? I’m way too tired for you to be this sappy,” Klaus laughed, burying his face in Dave’s neck.

“I can’t help it, I get sappy when I’m tired,” Dave said. “Really this is your fault for keeping me out all night.”

“Maybe that’s because I secretly like it,” Klaus said. 

“We could always abbreviate. Katz-Hargreeves. Hargreeves-Katz? I guess we have plenty of time to work it out. When are we doing this anyway?”

“Oh, right,” Klaus said. “I’d been so focused on the asking part that I completely forgot that it’s not over, we still gotta do the actual wedding. When did you want to do it?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Dave laughed. “I also wasn’t really thinking that far ahead.”

“We could stick to the plan,” Klaus suggested.

“Yeah, save up, rent a place, then I guess save some more for some actual rings that are a bit sturdier than cheap plastic? We could probably use our average income to figure out how far away that’ll be.”

“Uuugh, math,” Klaus groaned. “Math is for morning us.”

“It is morning. And besides, I know you’re secretly great at math.”

“It’s for ‘after sleeping’ us then because I am not so secretly exhausted.”

“Sounds good,” Dave said with a laugh. “As for the actual wedding, did you have anything in mind for that? I’d be fine with just going to a courthouse and getting the paperwork taken care of or whatever. I don’t need anything fancy, just you.”

“That’s very sweet but you are missing the perfect opportunity for an excuse to put on a wild party,” Klaus pointed out. “And Pogo would probably pay for it.”

“Oh shit you’re right.” 

“Besides, you can’t tell me you never dreamed of being able to have a traditional Jewish wedding.” 

“Aw, has someone been doing research?” Dave said and he looked much too fond.

“Of course I did, babe,” Klaus said, bringing his hand up to frame his face, brushing his thumb fondly across his cheek. “It’s important to you. So? Do you want that?”

“Yeah, actually, I think I do want that,” Dave said, smiling. “I never really thought it would be an option for me so— yeah. Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“For this, for thinking of me even when I forget. Just for everything. You’re my dream come true.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Klaus said, beaming and maybe even blushing a little as he hit Dave with his pillow, but not very hard. Dave was about to retaliate, the two of them sitting up for a better angle, but Klaus suddenly thought of something and raised a hand. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, I just had an amazing idea! What if we got an elephant?” 

“What? Is that even possible?” Dave asked, lowering his weapon, looking curious but suspicious. 

“I dunno but it would be pretty awesome. Come on, it’s your special day, live a little! What else could we do?”

“Okay, how about this,” Dave said, hands out like he had something huge. “An elephant wouldn’t fit, but what if we went somewhere with a ball pit?”

“I’m intrigued, please continue,” Klaus said with a grin, chin in hands.

“It’s suddenly become my dream to see Diego in one. Can you imagine?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Klaus cackled. “We have to do that now. And I’m not above tackling him into it if necessary.” 

“I’d ask if you think we could get Five too but that’s probably pushing our luck.” 

“I guess it depends if you want to die on our wedding day or not.”

“Point taken.” 

“How about Luther instead?” Klaus suggested.

“It might take more than the two of us to tackle him in though.”

“Ben will help. But we gotta be careful or people might catch on the third or fourth time we tackle someone.” 

-

It felt like something huge had happened, even though a proposal didn’t actually change anything between them. Their day to day was the same, but there was just something so official about it all, it just reinforced the fact that they had done it, they had found love, a partner in life, and they were overwhelmingly happy. 

Both of them went into Vietnam thinking they had nothing, that their lives were virtually over, and now, after somehow surviving and coming out the other side, it felt like their lives were just beginning. This was so much more than either of them ever expected to have and suddenly they had a future to look forward to. Together.

Thanks to the success of their channel, they were able to move out sooner than they’d anticipated. They found a tiny apartment, just like they’d talked about, and even if it wasn’t the nicest, it was still utterly perfect. This was theirs. Their home. They stood there side by side, an arm around each other’s waist, perhaps a dozen boxes full of their belongings strewn about.

“We did it,” Dave said, voice full of awe. “Holy shit we did it. We really are adults.”

“Debatable, but we already signed the contract so they can’t kick us out now,” Klaus said gleefully. 

“I mean, they can, but never mind,” Dave said. “Hey, we can do whatever the hell we want in here! What sort of childhood dreams do you want to fulfill? We could get a hammock if we wanted.”

“Yes! And we need a pillow fort! And lots of hideous decor!,” Klaus said.

“I know it’s only one floor,” Dave said excitedly. “But do you think we can fit a slide somewhere in here?”

“I don’t know, but we’re gonna try,” Klaus said. “And obviously we gotta make it all as gay as possible.”

“Hey, Klaus?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

It was so strange for Klaus to be standing in the middle of a home he could actually call his own with the man of his dreams in his arms. He’d lived on the streets for so long, he’d gotten so used to just drifting, never having a place of his own, and the only place he had been able to call a home, the place he’d grown up, was anything but. It had been full of so much cruelty and loneliness. 

But this? This was theirs. And they would make it everything a home was supposed to be, full of laughter and love, where they could both be happy and live the lives they always wanted, that they could be proud of. He hugged Dave a little closer, letting him rest his head against his shoulder and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Wait,” Dave said. “We’re gonna have to unpack all this shit.”

“Fuck. This is gonna take forever.”

-

(Author’s note: apparently I spoke too soon and I’m not done with this yet, bonus chapter here)

#klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klave #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #fanfic #unsolved academy #I am so sorry this took me so long #depression hit me hard #and I've really been having a hard time writing #hopefully it doesn't show in this chapter #anyway I dunno if i'll post more for this #depends if I get anymore ideas #i'm sure everyone is tired of seeing me trying to be funny though lol #anyway thank you so much to anyone who read through to the end! #my fic

[romaniassexdungeon]

Stars in your eyes

My part in the @aphgenficexchange for @tikola-nesla! Sorry it’s late, but here’s part one, with part two coming up soon, hopefully. I went with space+criminal prompts to make a sorta space-pirate thing, though there doesn’t seem to be much pirating, and all your relationship prompts.

Anyway, hope you like it!

Characters: Eduard (Estonia), Logan (Australia), Tino (Finland), Erzsebet (Hungary), Gunner (Denmark), Lars (Netherlands), Luca (Luxembourg), Laura (Belgium), mentioned Oscar (Hutt River) and Charlie (Wy)

Warnings: mentions of drugs, child abuse and violence

“This is Logan Apari Cooper, medic of the Waititi. The date is December 21st and I’m on the other side of the galaxy to my family. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll see them in a few… years. Maybe. Right now, I gotta focus on keeping everyone alive, take one day at a time and hope that specky cunt keeps this piece of shit ship in one piece so I can get outta here one day.”

Logan sighed, then deleted the recording. He promised himself he’d stop getting emotional over his situation, but birthdays and Christmas were always hard. He’d already missed Charlie’s birthday last month - she’d be 12 now - and he’d never abandon his crew, but if he could, he would be on Ediacara in a nanosecond.

He started a new recording. “Morning - or what counts as morning here - has broken on the 21st of December, my babies are so, so far away, and I am so fucking alone.”

He threw his tablet across the room and flopped onto his bed. Fuck the log. Fuck these stupid days where either nothing happened or he was doing shit that would get him killed.

Logan had always wanted to go on an adventure. He’d wanted to explore the universe, have near-death experiences, discover new planets and bone aliens, but his desire for adventure was now losing against his hatred of being cooped up inside, especially inside a tin can full of his crewmates’ farts for months. He wanted fresh air, his home planet, his parents, and his brother and sister.

He punched his pillow, then turned to face the wall and sulk until he was called for breakfast.

Eduard was making his morning rounds, checking every little nut and bolt to make sure the very ground beneath his feet didn’t fall apart. They hadn’t gotten round to press-ganging an assistant for him, so he had to do everything himself, even the boring, messy stuff that was technically beneath him.

He didn’t particularly mind, though. It was something to keep his hands busy while his mind worked, and he’d rather do it himself than with someone held here against his will. It took a while for new people to break, psychologically, and start seeing them as their new crew, and he didn’t want to risk the integrity of the ship over it.

Pirates really sucked, he had to admit. If his cousin wasn’t the captain, he’d probably hate it here.

Be that as it may, he absolutely loved exploring space. Not only did he wake up to it every day, but he got to live in a real spaceship, tinkering and studying every day. It was what he’d wanted since he was a boy. An escape.

Things would be better without the raids and danger, though.

He heard a sniff coming from one of the rooms. A sigh. It seemed to be coming from Cooper’s room. He wondered if he should check on him, but the man was so big and tough and strong and maybe he wouldn’t appreciate Eduard butting in.

But he wanted to help.

But talking to people was scary.

He mustered up all his courage and knocked on the door. It fell away, revealing Logan Cooper, curled up on his bunk. When he heard him enter, he turned to glare at him, eyes red. Eduard winced.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “just… I heard something, and, wanted to see if you’re okay. I’ll- I’ll just leave, if you-”

“No, it’s okay, stay.” He sat up, patting the mattress. Eduard sat down, back stiff and unsure of what to do with his hands.

“Something up?” he asked. He got along with the crew, but they still intimidated him. He was weedy, skinny and not tough in the slightest, whilst everyone else looked like they could break him in half with their bare hands. He didn’t want to get on their wrong side, even if they all technically relied on him to survive in space.

Logan shrugged. “I just… it’s embarrassing, but I miss my family. I haven’t seem ‘em in - I dunno - years now.”

“Doesn’t sound embarrassing at all. I imagine I’d miss my cousins… after a while.” Logan snorted. Eduard decided not to mention he certainly didn’t miss his parents; it would sound bad, complaining about them to a guy who apparently liked his family. “Tell me about them.”

“You wanna hear about them?” He seemed genuinely surprised at that.

“Yeah. You seem to really care about them.” If it wasn’t for his cousins, he’d have no idea what that would be like.

Logan smiled, and- okay, they were hugging now. It was a one-armed hug, but still more affection than he’d gotten from his parents. He let go an entire five seconds after Logan.

“Thanks, it means a lot,” Logan smiled at him. “I got a little brother and sister, back on my home planet. Back living with our parents. They’re both smarter than me already.”

Eduard looked at him. “You’re the medic.”

“Yeah, but they have more common sense than me.”

Yeah, he couldn’t argue with that; it was a miracle this idiot was still alive, given how reckless he was.

He was smiling as he began speaking. “Oscar… He’s… smart. A bright kid, bit of a dick, but a good guy. He’s probably gonna take over the farm. He likes farming. And the good things in life, I guess. Complete opposite of me. He’s going places, y’know?”

Eduard smiled. “And the sister?”

“Charlie, little kid. Loves getting into trouble and running around, climbing trees and stuff. Always getting mud on her. And she loves art, too. She’s great at painting. Like, she can paint on anything: shells, rocks, little bits of bark. Our whole house is just full of things she’s painted.”

“They sound lovely,” Eduard nudged him. “I’m sure they’re in good hands.”

“Yeah. I miss them, though. Don’t you miss your family?”

Eduard winced. “My family is my cousins. I don’t need anyone else.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to wince. “Well, you and your cousins are always welcome on Ediacara. My parents would love you, and probably try to adopt you.”

He laughed, but a sad kind of laugh like he was masking a great pain.

“Sucky parents?” asked Logan.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He probably would, though, at a moment’s notice. And enough alcohol. Like that time he broke down crying at space McDonalds and told the cashier about how his parents found out he was claustrophobic and started locking him in a tiny cupboard as punishment.

“Well, my parents just adopted you.”

“Your parents don’t know me.”

“Doesn’t matter, they’re your parents too now.”

He started crying. “I would die for them.”

“Hey, man- oh fuck you’re crying,” Logan held him in his arms, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he sobbed, “I just- your family sounds so nice.” He wanted Logan’s parents to hold him in their arms and tell him they were proud of him.

“Your cousins are nice too. And hey, it must be fun living with them, right?”

Eduard nodded. “Yeah, I love them. They’ve always looked out for me. I’m, well, they’re tougher than me, and I’ve always been an easy target. You know, for bullies and people looking for a hostage. They keep me safe, and alive.” He smiled. “I couldn’t imagine being apart from them.”

Logan nodded. “They’re good people. You hold onto them.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

“Is everyone still mad at Lars?” Gunner looked from one crewmember to the other.

“Yes,” said Luca, immediately, not looking up from his accounts.

“Not mad, just disappointed,” sighed Tino next to him, picking at the beaten up sofa and wondering just how to get out of what would probably be an awkward conversation.

Gunner sat down opposite them, twiddling his thumbs. “And how long are you gonna keep being mad at him?”

“Indefinitely,” said Luca.

“Aw come on, man! He didn’t hurt anyone!”

“That doesn’t changed that he hotboxed an escape pod!” cried Luca. “And, if I recall, you were right there with him.”

Gunner winced. “I was hoping you’d forget. His idea, though.”

“Moron.”

“That’s fair. But, in our defense, we didn’t wanna smoke all that space weed around everyone else, not in such a confined space such as this ship. We were trying to be responsible.”

Tino tried his best not to laugh. Luca, however, looked less amused.

“Very noble of you, I’m sure. Except when your dumb, high asses opened the door to go get space snacks and flooded the place with smoke.” Gunner giggled at that. “It’s not funny! Eddie started crying because he suddenly realised he was white!”

Tino burst out laughing. Luca tried his best to keep a straight face, but even he was struggling.

“It’s hardly the worst thing he’s done,” Gunner pointed out.

“That’s the thing. He was a dick when we were kids, and he’s still a dick now, and I couldn’t wait for him to only be someone I had to see at family gatherings. Now I’m stuck working under him.”

“I know, I was his best friend through all his dickishness.”

“I have no sympathy. You had a choice. I didn’t.”

“Yeah, and I kept him in my life because he’s a good person. Deep, deep down. He has moments of tenderness.”

Luca raised an eyebrow. “To anyone besides the rabbits he thinks we don’t know he keeps under his bed?”

“There’s the cat Laura keeps in her room,” Gunner tried, “and yeah, he really loves you. He’s just not good at expressing his emotions. I’m working on him, I promise. I’m certain I’m gonna get him to open up while sober any day now!”

Luca and Tino stared at him for a long moment.

“Any week now!” Gunner corrected.

#aph estonia #aph australia #aph denmark #aph luxembourg #aph finland #are the characters featured so far #hetalia #aph #aph fanfiction #HETALIA FANFIC #Hetalia Fanfiction #space au #pirates au #there's ozest if you squint #could be interpreted either way

[abovethesmokestacks]

Oh, How We’ve Grown (4/4)

Title: Oh, How We’ve Grown Pairing: Bucky x Reader Rating: General Audiences Word count: 2.6k (oops?) Warnings: nostalgia galore Spoilers: None

Here we are, end of the line. Again. I can’t even begin to thank you all for indulging me in this plot bunny, for all the kind words and encouragements. Just like with the final part of Chasing Promises, this one kinda got away from me. It’s twice as long as any of the previous chapters, so I hope it makes up for this being the end. You are the best.

| chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 |

IV

And I'm on my way, I still remember these old country lanes When we did not know the answers And I miss the way You make me feel, it's real

Life never works out the way you plan. For all your years spent studying, you end up in a career almost opposite of what you have a degree in. It's not necessarily bad. It affords you a roof over your head, food in your fridge, material comforts in moderation. It's not exactly something that lights your heart on fire with passion in the morning, but it's safe. Convenient.

You're in your mid-twenties when once again you're summoned back home. It's your first time back in a couple of years, having fielded holidays spent there. You've dutifully showed up at the ones hosted by Clint and his family, but going back hasn't really worked out, and you're not sure why. It's not bad memories. In the grand scheme of things, you had a happy childhood. Maybe it's the echoes of happy memories, of laughter shared that makes the heartache too taxing to come home to.

Still, it's necessary. Your parents are leaving suburbia, the house much too large for their aging bodies. Clint and his family live too far away to visit outside holidays. You don't have a family of your own, and your mother has all but given up on asking you when you'll find someone to settle down with. The house is going up for sale, and you and your brother have been summoned home to wrap up your childhoods and neatly place them in boxes as if cardboard could contain them. Returning home has your stomach in knots as you speed down the roads leading into the belly of the beast. Suburbia is forever.

And yet nothing is the same when you get there.

The street is quiet when you pull up, new names adorning some of the houses that used to belong to your friends and their families. You spend that first night in your old room, for the first time realizing that you could see past the thicket and across the fields. There, in the distance, a smudge that has your heart in your throat, but the castle's no longer a castle, just a bunch of rocks.

You try to go to bed early, telling yourself that you're gonna need it, but sleep evades you, and when you look out the window again at 1 am, you see the outline of someone moving towards the rocks, the soft beam of a flashlight illuminating the path before them. You squint your eyes, but can't make out anything aside from a guess that it's a man. Maybe Clint's snuck out and you didn’t hear it. Wouldn't be the first time. You smile as you remember that one time where Natasha suddenly turned up outside your window, suspended upside down from a rope, cursing your brother for not knowing left from right.

The lone figure pulls at your heart, awakens that sense of adventure that's long lain dormant. Before you know it, you're dressed and sneaking down the stairs, still knowing exactly how to tread to avoid creaking. The hedge is both smaller and a lot trickier to get through, hair snagging on branches and brambles, but you finally emerge and despite so many things having changed, that sensation of entering a different realm still remains. It's with an evergrowing sense of nostalgia, of sense memory kicking in, that you follow the path up to the castle, only to stop dead in your tracks when you see the man perched on top of the largest rock.

Because it isn't Clint.

”Bucky?”

He visibly jerks at the sound of your voice, but his face refuses to betray it when he turns to you. His eyebrows knit together for a moment before realization floods his eyes and he breaks into a smile.

”Barton junior.”

You scrunch up your face. ”Seriously? I mean, it's better than Baby Barton, but really? Would it kill you to call me by my name.”

Something about your quip makes his smile fade, settling into an indifferent line.

”Heard you were coming back. Folks selling the house, right?” he says, taking a swig from a bottle he's kept by his right side.

”Yeah. Feels strange,” you reply, inching closer to him. ”Can I join you?”

Bucky shrugs, but shuffles to the side to allow you space next to him. It takes a few attempts, and a helping hand from Bucky, to get you up. It leaves you snickering, because you're sure these rocks were not this difficult to climb when you were younger.

”Didn't expect company, otherwise, I'd've brought another one,” Bucky says, scraping absentmindedly at the label on the beer bottle.

He's different, not that you'd expected him to be the same. Still, it's vastly different. The others, the ones you've seen or heard from in recent years, they've all retained some of the traits you remember them for. Clint will always be an annoying big brother. Sam still has his charm, Steve a strong sense of duty. Natasha could probably still scare the living crap out of you, and Tony has proven his worth at several tech fairs. But Bucky, something has shifted in him, taken him away from the sweet boy who stayed by your side when you broke your leg, who held your hand and led you home in the darkness, who kissed you sweetly on the cheek and then disappeared into the world.

You gently pull the bottle from him, taking a swig and instantly remembering why you hate beer. Still, you swallow it down with minimal cringing before cracking a smile.

”Don't you remember? I never got my own drink, I just stole from you guys.”

That draws a snort from him as he takes the bottle and tips it back to take another swig.

”That was one of the best nights of my life,” he offers, looking out toward the horizon. ”Last time I was really happy.”

The confession stings at you, because what must have happened for that night to be his last happy memory?

”Steve said you joined the military.”

Bucky nods, but doesn't elaborate, and the realization why he blanched at your initial jibe hits you. Why the fuck would you word it like that?

”Home on leave?” you prod carefully, taking in his silhouette.

His hair is short, a bit tousled maybe, but pushed back into a messy coif of chestnut brown. There are muscles bulging under his thin henley and the stressed denim jeans; he's not as massive as Steve when last you saw him, but enough to fill out his clothes in a way that, yeah, is easy on the eyes.

”Honorably discharged,” comes the clipped answer, followed by a slow exhale. ”Sergeant James Barnes.”

”I'm glad you're home,” you offer, not sure what else to say.

”I'm not,” Bucky bites out, and suddenly, the words flow from him. ”Too many tours to count, and by the end of it, I wasn't even sure what I was doing there anymore. Got out last year and had to move back home, couldn't stay anywhere else. My sister's out conquering the world, and I'm stuck here because too much noise freaks me out.” His voice trembles at the last part, and he lets his eyes fall closed, clenching and unclenching his left fist.

”If it's any consolation, I didn't want to come home either.”

Bucky looks genuinely surprised when he opens his eyes again and fixes his gaze on you. ”Really?”

”It's... weird. This place, I remember it so differently and coming back would mean having to face the fact that nothing will be as it was and... and I didn't think I'd see any of you. Well, except for Clint. I didn't want to face that we... I dunno... changed.”

”What's Clint doing? He was in some sport program at college, right?”

You nod affirmatively before answering. ”Got hit by the economy. Not hard, just... He ended up managing a store. Sells sports clothes. Got a wife and two kids.”

”Steve's got two kids, too,” Bucky supplies, smirking when he sees your eyebrows rise. ”His wife died a few years back. Long-term illness.”

”What about the others? Last I heard, Tony was married.”

”Yeah. Still is. To wife number two. I think they're happy. Natasha's somewhere on the westcoast. Probably killing people with a stare and making an assload of money, you know her. Sharp as a tack. I've talked to Sam a bit after... after I got back. Works at the VA, helped me move. Kinda knew what I was going through.”

”Sam? Sam Wilson?”

”His brother died, did you know that?”

You'd been vaguely aware growing up that Sam had an older brother, Riley. He was five years older, and never hung out with your group. Even so, the announcement comes as a shock.

”Military man, too. Came back from his first tour right after Sam graduated, didn't handle the shift to civvie real well. He... he OD'd. Sam found him, kinda lost his way for a little while.”

Your heart breaks, and you think back to Sam the time he ended up in your order line. Happy, drunk Sam, flitting around the room, puking out a window. Had this just happened then?

”He's doing okay. Straightened out eventually, got involved with the VA. He's a good man.”

”And what about you? You doing okay?”

He looks at you, appraising you, deciding the level of truth he can hit you with. The lines in his face eventually soften, perhaps recognizing a kindred spirit as he brings up his hand to gently caress your cheek. The soft touch makes you shudder, distant memories of longing for a moment like this clawing their way to the surface.

”I'm getting by. Barely, but I'm trying. I've still got this place, right?” He motions to your little fortress, the fields that hold a magic able to suspend reality.

”Yeah,” you breathe, pulling at your cardigan. ”Yeah, you do.”

The two of you sit quietly, unaffected by the slight chill in the air. At some point, you doze off, sleeping through dreamless darkness leaned up against Bucky for a good thirty minutes, waking up as the sky slowly starts to darken towards the western horizon. The sun is a mere sliver at the very edge, hanging on desperately. You're too tired, head still too sluggish to even feel embarrassed about it.

”Evenin',” Bucky greets you, and finally you see part of him as he used to be in the soft smile that graces his lips. ”Saved you this.”

You blink a couple of times before you find focus on the beer bottle, a half inch of liquid still at the bottom of it. Maybe once, you would have emptied it, but now you only punch him lightly in the arm, grabbing the bottle and holding it to your chest as if it's a treasured keepsake.

”Hey,” you mumble, trying to blink away the lingering sleepiness. ”You said last time you were happy it was here. The night the cops came.”

”Yeah, so?”

”That was my first time drunk,” you muse, giggling at the memory. ”Why is it your last happy memory?”

Bucky ponders the question for a while, his eyes roving the field and the sharp colours of the sky that steadily bleed into the darkness. You begin to regret asking, fearing you've overstepped your boundaries.

”Because we were all here. We were all still kids. There was adventure and...”

”And what?”

”I kissed you.”

Objectively, you know it happened. You were there, you've lived in the memory of it since. People tend to remember their first kiss, but for as much as you claim it as your first, you never really thought Bucky would remember it. It wasn't a kiss on the lips, you weren't together, and yet that evening, that moment has stayed in his mind; his last happy moment.

Bucky lets out a shaky laugh. ”I was so nervous. Steve kept teasing me, told me to just go ahead and do it, even if it was gonna get me killed. I was... not really embarrassed, but, you know, hesitant...”

”Hesitant?” you parroted, staring him down because the words coming out of his mouth don't seem to translate correctly in your mind.

”No, shit, I mean- You were my friend's little sister. We grew up, and then you were there, and you weren't a little kid. Well, you were, kinda, and that was another thing. I couldn't- I wanted to kiss you, really kiss you. Clint would have had my head, you have no idea how protective that guy is of you.”

”I don't need him to fight my fights for me,” you pointed out sourly.

”I know. Look at you,” He finally meets your gaze, motioning to your form and you pulls your knees up against you, ”you got out of this hellhole mostly unscathed. Just trust me when I say I wish that kiss could have been more. It was the best I could do, and it was the best I ever got.”

There is a sense of nostalgia as he breathes out the last part, not looking at you, but out towards the open sky. Something stirs in your heart, a small part you were sure had been extinguished or at the very least resolved. It's that small glimmer of longing that flickers to life with sense memory of his lips against your cheek, the shadow of a younger version of yourself, hoping against hope that there could be more.

”It doesn't have to be.”

For a moment, you think Bucky hasn't heard you. He's still got his eyes trained on the fading sun, and it's only when you lean forward that you see his eyebrows are knit together, the right side of his lower lip caught between his teeth. Maybe you're not the only one stunned by something said. You're about to repeat his name, lips already pressed together to pronounce it when he finally turns, scans your face and quickly dips forward to kiss you, really kiss you. It's a kiss you have waited for since 15, a kiss you finally realize you can't anticipate, can't prepare for, because it's magical. It's magical like the suspension of time soaring through the air when you were six, it's magical like this place that seems to exist both beyond reality and smack dab in the middle of it. It's magical because life slots into place with the soft undulation of lips against lips.

You kiss like it's the end of the world, you kiss like it's the very beginning of it. Bucky lets out a breath through his nose, the warmth of it fanning softly across your face. Arms come up to wrap around your shoulders, angling you more toward him and you melt, knees going lax and sinking downwards until they dangle over the edge of the rock once again. Gradually, the kiss becomes sweet pecks becomes foreheads resting against one another becomes a hug tucked tightly against the crooks of the other's neck.

If there was a chill in the air of the impending night, you don't feel it. Bucky's body is warm against yours, his hands splayed over your back, holding you to him. You nuzzle into him, pressing a kiss to the soft skin before remembering the bottle in your hand. Smiling, you squirm out of his grip to hold the bottle out, tipping it upside down and letting the stale beer water the grass beneath you.

”To getting by,” you smile, and this time, your instincts serve you right.

Your eyes flutter close and Bucky's lips meet yours again in a kiss that promises to last a lifetime.

And I miss the way You make me feel, and it's real We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

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