#i was crying over this before his chaotic ass logged in

[heartshaped-lou]

"when i hold the warmth of your body there is no body i'd rather hold"

i will be respectfully passing away

#welcome to another episode of LOUIS STUFF THAT TURN MY KNEES INTO JELLY AND MAKE ME WANNA SCREAM INTO MY PILLOW #i would die for this cover ok #louis x kings of leon collab WHEN@!@!! #i was crying over this before his chaotic ass logged in #ugh #beautiful war #the away from home festival #video #louis' voice #m

[dameronology]

love in a time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 5/5

v summary: you hadn’t expected to find anything at a stupid p.t.a. meeting - but somehow, you found everything {series masterlist} 

warnings: swearing, one very mild innuendo 

there’s a long message at the end but...this is the last official part and i’m very sad about it. with that said, i hope you enjoy❤️

- j

Being a parent was tiring.

So much so that you hadn’t even made it to bed last night.

In fact, none of you had. The entire household was slumped together on the sofa; Marcus was in the middle, with one arm wrapped around Missy on his left side and the other stretched across you and Jack on his right. You’d completely flopped into his chest, with your kid passed out on you in a similar manner. The dogs (plural - but more on that later) were both stretched across the four of you on your laps, snoozing quietly. It had been a long week, clearly; between the school year coming to an end and the hot weather, you were all worn out. It had been a rush of finishing up projects at school, evenings in the pool and ordering take out. Marcus had been working late and your cooking skills were...well, calling them skills was an overstatement in itself. 

You grumbled slightly as you woke - why the fuck did your neck ache so bad? Right, because you’d fallen asleep tilted sideways. You probably would have stayed passed out for hours more if it hadn’t been for the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The TV ahead of you had stopped now, displaying an are you still watching Friends? message. You’d started watching it at what...six o clock the night before? 

Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sat up. Instead of waking up, Jack simply flopped into your lap, clearly not phased by the sudden movement other than letting out a tiny oof! as he fell. The kid had fallen asleep on the log flumes at Coney Island, so really, it wasn’t a surprise. Plus, him waking up would mean having to get up and make breakfast, which you really weren’t ready for just yet. 

‘D’you know what day it is today?’ Marcus quietly muttered. 

‘One year.’ You peered up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face.

‘So where the hell do you think you’re going?’ He pulled you back towards him, broad arm wrapping around your shoulders to trap you against his chest. ‘Happy one year, baby.’

‘Happy one year.’ You leant up to a soft kiss to his lips. 

You stayed like that for a minute, head resting against Marcus as you gently ran a hand through Jack’s hair. It was sort of a moment of...reflection. A lot had changed in the last year and yet somehow, it felt like your life had always been like this. The four of you have had gelled together into a slightly chaotic but ever-loving entity and you loved it. With the combined antics of your energetic children, everything was in disarray practically all the time but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. It had been the thing you’d had all along and the very thing that Marcus had been looking for; you had been the one to bring it into his life and he had been the one to teach you to appreciate it. 

The two dogs had brought a lot of chaos into your lives as well. After weeks of Missy and Jack insisting that the garden was too big for just Optimus Prime, you’d ended up traipsing to the dog shelter late on a Saturday afternoon. Bumblebee had become a valued member of the Moreno family within a matter of hours. 

‘I love you.’ You murmured. You could feel yourself getting sleepy again. 

‘I love you more.’

‘No, you don’t.’ You pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

‘At least that’s the only fight we’ve had over the last year.’ He reasoned. ‘What time d’we have to be at cook out?’

‘Twelve.’ You replied. Glancing at the screen of your dying Apple watch, you squinted at the screen. ‘It’s just gone eight.’

Every year, the PTA threw a cook out on the school field to celebrate the end of the semester. In previous years, you’d avoided it like the plague but this year you were actually excited. The last one had been in the very early stages of your relationship, and you and Marcus weren’t publicly showing affection when you’d been. There had been a lot of lingering glances across the field and knowing looks at one another but this time, you were solid. Everyone knew they were together and like hell where they gonna say things about you when you were with Marcus Moreno. Whether it’s because they’d suddenly got a newfound respect for you or because they were scared into silence by his reputation, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

‘Do you want breakfast, hermosa?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll help-’

Having heard the b-word, Jack suddenly shot up. He was six now (too old, in your book) and just as much of a tiny, evil genius as ever. He’d upgraded from a Chewbacca onesie to an Ewok onesie, so that was something too, and you were proud of him. 

‘- what’s for breakfast?!’ He demanded. ‘I want waffles.’

‘Then waffles we shall have.’ You stood up, sticking your hand out to him. ‘What about you two?’

‘I want waffles.’ Missy sleepily murmured.

Jack followed you through to the kitchen, swiping his iPad off the side as he did. Despite the fact you’d put it in a nuclear bomb proof case, he’d still managed to crack the screen. There had also been at least five occasions where he’d tried to take it in the pool. And this was the same kid who’d insisted he was responsible enough for his own hamster. 

Marcus breezed into the kitchen a few moments later, pressing a kiss to your cheek and ruffling Jack’s hair as he went by. You heard him rustling around behind you for a few minutes whilst you prepared the food; he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He placed a terribly wrapped gift on the counter in front of you, head coming to rest on your shoulder. 

‘Happy anniversary, baby.’ He murmured.

‘Hey.’ You dropped the knife you were holding, turning around to face him. ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘I know we said we wouldn’t do presents but since you got me a present last night and-’

‘- Marcus!’ You clamped a hand over his mouth. ‘There is a child in the room.’

‘He has his headphones in!’ He protested. ‘Just open it, please?’

‘Of course.’ You smiled. 

‘Jack even helped me wrap it.’ He said. ‘And decorate it.’ 

‘That would explain a lot.’ You replied.

Pulling the paper off it, you felt your heart drop in your chest when you saw what it was. 

It was a bright red photo with random doodles in puffy paint; the photo itself was one of you and Jack from when you’d all gone to New York for the weekend a few months previous. You were stood on top of the Rockerfeller Centre, the Empire State in the distance behind you and Jack on your shoulders. You were both grinning despite how windy it was, and his hat had blown off seconds after the photo was taken.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t - ah, dammit.

‘I love it.’ You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wobbled despite your efforts. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ He flashed you a lopsided grin, pressing another kiss to your forehead. ‘I figured we could hang it up in place of the one he managed to smash last week with the broom stick.’

(He’d recently watched Harry Potter. Don’t ask.) 

‘Of course.’ You gave him one last kiss, before heading over to the empty space on the wall. It fit perfectly in the space, right between the photo of Marcus and Missy, and the sign that said 0 days since Jack’s last incident.

---

Four hours later, and after consuming enough waffles to feed a small army, the four of you finally reached the school. Both of the kids seemed excited to see their friends, but you were a little nervous.  What if people asked questions about you and Marcus? About your divorce? Or Jack’s behaviour, or whether or not-

‘You okay, baby?’ Marcus had suddenly appeared beside you, an arm coming around your waist. You’d been stood on the sidelines of the football field for way longer than you realised. ‘You’ve got eyes like dinner plates.’

‘I don’t know how to interact with these people.’ You murmured back. ‘They’re all...you know.’

‘They’re all what?’

‘Perfect. And shiny.’ You huffed. ‘Look at their cars! There’s not a dent in sight. And their kids aren’t wearing an Ewok onesie to a cook-out in July.’

‘I think Jack is admirable for embracing his unique sense of fashion.’ You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. ‘C’mon! They’re gonna run out of food if you keep longingly staring at their minivans.’

‘You’re right.’ You stumbled slightly as he dragged your hand, pulling you towards the crowd in the middle of the field.

‘I mean if you want a minivan, we can get one.’

‘Moving to the suburbs was already a big deal for me.’ You grumbled. 

Marcus continued to laugh, pulling you closer into his side as you reached the other parents. 

Naturally, he immediately jumped into conversation about one of the other dads with...actually, you weren’t really paying attention. You switched off as soon as you heard the word football. One thing you did notice, however, was his ability to be completely and entirely charming with anyone. You lacked that, normally shying away from talking to strangers. Especially strangers who had previously cast you out for being a single parent and constantly given you the side-eye. The only reason they’d stopped was because you and Marcus were together now.

You tried to remind yourself that it didn’t matter, that their thoughts and feelings weren’t relevant. They shouldn’t have been. You had the best guy in the world by your side and two amazing kids. The people most important to you were the ones whose opinions mattered - and they all thought the world of you. Marcus loved and supported you unconditionally, and Missy thought you were a bad-ass. Jack, though probably a little bias, thought you were the best parent in the world. That was what counted. 

But still, you couldn’t help but feel a little angry. You’d worked your ass off to get where you were, to raise your kid and make him a semi functional human being. You’d single-handedly kept a roof over both of your heads and provided for your family, even when you’d been married to a dead beat husband. 

Things were different now; brighter, happier, filled with more dogs and more love than you could ever have imagined. You didn’t want to linger in the past, not when everything else was moving forward. If anything, being here had just solidified your faith in your relationship. If all you wanted to do was go home and be alone with your partner, then that was a sure sign. 

‘Mum!’ You heard Jack from across the field. ‘Can you get my football out the car?’

‘Duty calls.’ You finally spoke. Marcus had noted how quiet you were, having made a mental note to bring it up later. ‘I’ll be back in a second.’

‘Okay, baby.’ He pressed a kiss to your check. 

The sun beat down on your back as you trudged across the field, Doc Martens kicking up grass around you. Your outfit was cute at least; a pair of denim shorts and an old tank top with one of your boyfriend’s plaid shirts thrown over the top. You hadn’t even realised it was his until the lingering smell of aftershave hit your nostrils when you got in the car. After that, there was no way in hell you were taking it off.

The car park was around the corner from the field -- it was nice to get away for a minute. Even though you’d simply stood beside Marcus like an older man’s sidepiece at a business meeting, just being in the presence of the people and listening to them talk about their kids was exhausting. At least he had been good at pretending to be interested in their sugar free diets and screen time limitations and how their French lessons were going. You, meanwhile, hadn’t even tried to look like it piqued your fancy. You’d been half-tempted to put your sunglasses on so they couldn’t see you roll your eyes. 

Pulling Marcus’ car-keys out your pocket, you opened the boot and began to rifle around. His car was a thousand times more put together than yours, but it still accumulated a bunch of crap. 

You jumped backwards when you heard the gravel crunch behind you. 

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes fell on Carol. It had been a while since you’d last seen her, but she looked a little worst for wear. What’s more was that she had a cigarette between her lips, despite being the one to run the entire school’s anti-smoking campaign.

‘I didn’t know you smoked.’ You commented, catching her attention as you slammed the boot shut. 

‘Oh!’ She jumped, quickly throwing it onto the floor.

‘Hey, I’m not bothered.’ You leant against the back of the car. ‘A lot of people do it.’

‘I don’t normally.’ She stamped on the remains to put it out, dusting off her bright pink work-out jacket. ‘I’ve just been stressed lately.’

‘Are you okay?’ You raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I’m fine.’ 

You tossed the football between your hands, giving her a nod. ‘If you’re sure.’

With that, you locked the car and began to make your way back towards the cook-out. If you could wear Jack out by playing with him all afternoon, then you might be able to catch some peace and quiet that evening. Then, you and Marcus could celebrate your first anniversary by ordering take out and watching Friends.

(Which is ironically, what you’d done for the last four nights).

‘Y’know, I’ve always been jealous of you.’ You froze when Carol called after you.

‘What?!’ You turned around to face her, confusion etched on your features. ‘Are you talking to someone else, or?..’

‘No, I’m talking to you.’ She muttered. 

‘Why me? I thought you hated me?’

‘Because I was jealous of you.’ She said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

‘Carol, you’re the perfect one here. You’re married to your high school sweetheart, you’ve got a big-ass house - with a gate! - and your kids are perfectly well behaved. And you drive a fucking minivan!’

‘Oh, please.’ She groaned, falling back against the nearest car. ‘My husband is married to his job and my kids are more interested in their iPads than me!’ 

‘So’s mine-’

‘- you’ve always provided for yourself.’ She continued, cutting you off. ‘Always put your kid first and just did what was best for you without worrying what anyone else thought. That’s..admirable.’

‘Thanks?’ You furrowed your brow. ‘I never really gave it that much thought.’

‘I never thought I’d wish for your life.’ She muttered. 

You gently approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. With caution, obviously. You know that she had a tendency to be vicious and bite. Like a chihuahua. 

‘My life isn’t perfect.’ You said softly. ‘There’s a difference between happiness and perfect. And if you keep trying for perfect, you’ll never be happy.’

‘That’s deep.’

‘Actually, it’s a quote that you shared on Facebook.’ You snorted. ‘You just gotta appreciate what’s around you. Your house, your kids, your husband.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’ Carol nodded. ‘You’re a good parent. A good person. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel less than that.’

‘I mean...you were an asshole, I won’t lie. You’re nosey as fuck and you got involved with my kid, but I’d probably be doing the same if I wasn’t satisfied with my life.’ 

Okay, so you didn’t mean for that to sound so rude, but who could blame you? The woman had given you nothing but crap. You’d already felt bad for her, but now you felt worst.

‘C’mon.’ You stuck your hand out to her. ‘You have two lovely daughters and a husband waiting for you back on the field....you family waiting for you back on the field.’

Dragging Carol off of the car, you dusted off her arms and forced a smile. It didn’t make you happy that she was miserable, but at least offered an explanation for her behaviour. The fact she’d envied you this entire time didn’t make up for what she’d done - the rumours the spread, the things she said - but it at least helped soothe you a little bit. 

‘Can we be friends?’ She asked quietly, traipsing beside you. 

‘...maybe in a few years.’ 

---

As it turned out, Jack did not pass out early. Instead, the four of you ended up having another night on the sofa -- this time with an extra large pizza, just to celebrate the special night. 

Your head had been spinning since your conversation with Carol. You were glad you finally had closure on the whole thing, but it had completely fried your circuits. She was the queen of the hive, the perfect mum, the perfect wife. Her kids wore matching outfits to school and they never had a hair out of place. Her Facebook was filled with family photos of their international vacations and outings to all their activities. Was she not the blue print?

It made you take a step back and look at your own life, which was something you hadn’t done in a while. In fact, last time you’d done it, you realised you’d weren’t happy with your ex-husband. 

Now, it was the opposite. You were in love with somebody who was better than you could have ever imagined; he wasn’t perfect - he snored and he never did the dishes and he always forgot to put the bins out - but he was everything to you. You had a kid who, although was undeniably a tiny meddler, you loved with your whole heart. You had Missy, who had welcomed you into her life with open arms and embraced the chaos you brought. You had dogs, and a house with a fucking garden. 

You didn’t blame Carol for being jealous because, even though it was from perfect, you didn’t need it to be. You had everything you ever wanted and heck, you would have been jealous of it too if it wasn’t completely and entirely yours. 

For the first time all day, you finally had a moment to yourself. You were stretched out across the couch, feet propped up on a pile of cushions; Marcus’ shirt was still on, only now you had changed out your shorts for leggings and your boots for socks fluffy enough to be dangerous on the wooden floors. 

‘Hey, baby.’ Marcus quietly greeted you, shutting the living room door behind him. ‘Kids are asleep.’

You gave him a doubtful look. ‘Even Jack?’

‘Okay - Missy is asleep and Jack is on his iPad.’

You opened your arms to him, grinning. ‘I’ll take it.’

Marcus dropped onto the sofa, an equally big smile falling onto his face as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. He wound both of his around your waist, lifting you off of the couch and into his lap. It always reminded you of when you’d kissed on your first date -- it seemed like worlds away now. 

‘Has it really been a year?’ You murmured softly, resting your forehead against his.

‘Yeah.’ He shyly smiled at you. ‘I don’t know how I got so lucky.’

‘We both got lucky.’ You reminded him. ‘I got lucky that Carol guilt-tripped me into that fucking meeting.’

‘And I got lucky that you were the person I chose to victimise with my small talk.’ He chuckled. ‘You know you’re my whole fucking heart, right?’

‘Yeah.’ You slowly nodded. ‘And you’re mine.’

You’d completely changed each other’s lives - blown them apart, and used the tiny pieces to rebuild everything back into one. Neither of you had even been looking and you’d still managed to find one another. You’d been hurt before and he’d been patient. He’d lost a lot before and you helped him find it again. What he lacked, you had. What you lacked, he had. 

Above all, Marcus had embraced what everybody seemed to encourage; he saw value in the things you’d been insecure about and when he fell in love with him, so did you. In return, you brought an energy and light to his life that he didn’t even know he needed.  In one another, you found unconditional love and support, and a feeling of security that you’d both lacked for so long.

This was it. And it was everything . 

--

OKAY i’m actually so sad this story is over -- i’ve written over the course of maybe 2 weeks but when i TELL YOU i have become so attached? u better believe it. if you check out the series masterlist, you’ll see that there’s a few little fics i’m gonna write to fill in the gaps that were in the time skips between chapters, so that’s still something to look forward to!

thank so so so much for all your support on this series; it’s been so much fun to write & your comments are what encouraged me to finish it so quickly. 

- jamie xx 

taglist: taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles @bitchin-beskar @comphersjost @absurdthirst @mjby @parkjammys @kteague @katdante @vonschweetz @cyarikashakira​ @mrsparknuts​ @starryeyedstories​ 

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno imagines #pedro pascal character headcanons #pedro pascal characters

[junova]

↬ ��𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | 𝐫. 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

abstract — the one where ransom gets a taste of his own medicine, but you happen to be so much sweeter than he’s ever been. 

pairing — ooc!ransom drysdale x fem!reader 

wc — 4.1k+  im so sorry lmao 

warnings — cheating (if u squint its very vague), angst, fluff, slight self deprecation, ransom is kinda nice idk, i want a soft!ransom drysdale now pls, this is also very messy so read at ur own risk!

[m blabs] — howdy howdy! first time ransom fic. woot woot! still kinda finding my voice w writing so i hope you like it! <333 

His mouth set in a hard line as you continued to curl into his chest, the span of your confidence seemed to be wiped away with a nightmare from the past. Part of him was upset you hadn’t told him anything, the blind leading the blind, as you stepped foot into his family event. Seeing the last person you’d ever thought would be there. 

Surely by now, he thought you would trust him but it was more than evident you still didn’t. You persisted on hiding everything from him, anything you were sure might tick him off. 

Well, Ransom wasn’t necessarily known for biting his tongue.  Although, in your presence, he was learning what to say and where to say it. 

It really surprised him. Not one woman had been able to tame him, not since he’d be fucking everyone in sight. His desire was endless and not one single individual would be enough for his fill. 

Then, he found you drunk and sobbing on the concrete, right outside of the bar he was exiting. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you why he stopped for you. He never really paid attention to anyone if it wasn’t to his own benefit. Ultimately, meeting you was, even if he wouldn’t realize it then. 

You flinched from his touch when he patted your shoulder, gently asking if you were alright. If anyone asked him, Ransom would surely deny he felt you pull at the strings of his heart in an instant. 

He just knew. 

Maybe it’s why it took him so long to accept it, to believe in what he felt for you. Definitely not because you did nothing but be the most wonderful human he’d ever met. More had to do with him. 

Ransom dropped you off the first night you met in your small apartment downtown, definitely on the rougher side where he thought his Rolex sporting his wrist may get stolen. 

A cute little thing like you living in a neighborhood like this — didn’t make much sense to him. Then again, it certainly checked out with his privilege why he didn’t. 

Truly, Ransom didn’t realize how fortunate he truly was. Of course being a trust fund brat gave him the ignorance to live in an unmatched state of bliss. 

He still remembers the moment. 

Watching as you fumbled with your keys, finding it more than difficult to open your front door. It was cute, with your tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. Now, he wondered how he’d forgotten why he’d gone to get hammered at the bar in the first place. 

“Here, let me help.” New to Ransom, he offered a giving hand. Grabbing the key from your jittering fingertips before unlocking your door. He tried to hand you back your keys, but you pulled him so close, your chest touching his own. Dragging two rapid hearts through your apartment. 

“You smell like him.” A dopey smile on your face lighting every dark sight of Ransom, not that you’d know it did. “I smell like who?” 

“My ex-boyfriend.” Your hands cupping his cheek, but you were too drunk to realize how Ransom flinched from your touch. 

He didn’t push you away either. 

“But he definitely didn’t look this good.” Defying all laws of his own nature, Ransom let you stay in close proximity to him as you felt him up. Your hand resting on his chest, traveling lower stopping at his stomach. “Definitely didn’t feel this good.” 

He watched as you sighed, your puffy eyes were only slightly swollen and the mascara was still staining your skin with the rest of the makeup you wore. If anyone had asked him, you’d looked like a wreck but he still found you alluring. 

Ransom always liked his women looking more than fucked out, usually from gagging around his cock. Not crying over a broken heart. Nope. He definitely did not like dealing with a woman's sorrow. 

“He never let me touch him though. Guess that should have tipped me off.” You let your hands travel back up, wounding themselves around his neck before they applied more pressure — pulling him into you. 

Ransom found you pretty confident for not even knowing anything more than his first name and the car he drove you in. You were definitely craving attention and maybe he’d be more than happy to oblige but the little voice in his head Dr. Shoal told him to listen to was being a pestering, little bitch. 

What did Ransom want? 

Right now he wanted to drown himself in some sweet ass pussy. He knew you would give yourself easily to him, especially in your drunken state. Clinging onto him like he was a vine. 

The smaller part of him, the better part, knew you were drunk out of your mind. Absolutely plastered, but you had to stand there looking like a goddess. 

He didn’t really know why he was letting you touch him, maybe in hopes the deeper, darker side of him would win like it always did. Ransom knew better, even if he tried to hide it from everyone including himself. 

He liked you. From the very first moment, he knew he’d have to get you. Whether it cost your own sanity or his, Ransom didn’t care. 

It’s why he left you drunk and alone, safely tucked into the comfort of your sheets with his number left in your phone. Even taking the liberty of texting himself from it. 

He could never be too careful. Letting you slip through his fingers was simply not an option. 

Thanks to him, you didn’t forget about him. 

The next morning your memory only held vague images of a handsome stranger helping you home, thankfully he seemed to be nothing more than a doting gentlemen. The first for you to ever come across. 

Until later in the afternoon the following day, Ransom introduced himself and checked up on you, worming his presence into your life. 

Then he kept talking to you everyday, surprising even himself in the matter. Truly, he couldn’t help it. Part of him loved how gently you spoke to him on the phone. No one ever talked to him with such a level of care. 

He always warranted yelling, usually he was the one who stirred the pot. He enjoyed it, and thrived in a chaotic environment. It’s what he grew up in. Ransom was more than comfortable with his own family yelling and cursing him out until the sun came up. He did just the same. 

So, whenever you sweetly asked him how he was, it threw him off guard. 

Not a single soul even cared or bothered to ask him anything. Truth be told, Ransom was a sack of shit treating everyone like they were the gum beneath his shoe. It didn’t matter who talked to him — Ransom was simply more superior in every conceivable way. 

He would succumb to not a single soul. Paving his own way through life, with only the money from his trust fund of course. 

Then the two of you fell into each other and he could pinpoint the exact moment he did. 

The weeks and months blended together. He couldn’t really tell you why he was still lingering around, while he got nothing in return. You did get him off once or twice, but he wasn’t fucking you like he really wanted to. 

Maybe it was the innocence in your eyes pulling his soul into the very little good he still had left within him. Or maybe it was the way your thumb dragged over his cheek when you thought he was in slumber, blissfully unaware of your touch. 

More importantly his favorite thing, the way you let him hold you when the two of you cuddled. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, bouncy cheeks pressed into whatever knit sweater he decided to wear that day. 

It was all the little things, unknowingly making him fall in deep like he never had before. 

Unwelcoming to him, his mother came barreling in one Sunday afternoon, while you slept in his arms. Even as Linda screamed his name, you never jolted, out like a log. Safe in the peace he kept you in. 

Linda looked annoyed, irritated he even had company in the first place but not surprised. What truly shocked her was they both had clothes on.  Not truly believing Ransom was capable of such a sinless interaction. 

He knew what she wanted; he didn’t even have to move from his position to continue a private conversation. Not that it would get him off the couch, and out of your embrace in the first place. 

“I said no. Don’t know why you bothered coming here.” Linda angrily sighed. “You should at least show up.” 

Ransom didn’t notice, but subconsciously continued to run his fingertips up and down your spine. Linda did. She noticed that he didn’t even care she was judging him, but let you remain unbothered sleeping in her son’s embrace. 

“It’s for Walt. You need to be there.” She stepped closer, hoping the increase in her volume would wake you. “I expect you to grace us with your wonderful presence as does the rest of the family.” 

The sarcasm dripped, attempting to coax him out of the four walls he never seemed to leave. Not recently, anyhow. 

“I already told you, I can’t.” Now Ransom was irritated and he really wished she would calm the fuck down. It was one day, one event. There would always be another, that much wasn’t lost on him. “I have plans. Send him my best.” 

Assuming it was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke, you moved jolting yourself in his arms, before remaining still again. His heartbeat continues to soothe you. 

“You have plans? What else could be more important than your family?” The louder Linda’s voice grew the more you stirred, pissing him off. 

He really needed to change his locks. 

Even if he had no intention of going, he needed his mother to leave. Really for your own sake — trying to save you from Linda giving you a cold shoulder followed with a third degree burn. 

“Fine. I’ll go. Can you just leave?” She accepted Ransom’s submission, before looking at your figure. Sound asleep and clinging to her one and only, sinking your claws into him. 

She really didn’t like the way Ransom was looking at you. Linda was positive he would never be able to care about someone other than himself, but here he was, holding you close to his chest. 

Almost like his life depended on it. 

“Who is she to you?” With a raised eyebrow, eyes narrowing to you before meeting back with Ransom’s cerulean blues. 

“I don’t know yet.” Ransom paused looking down at you, so beautiful. Holding a light so pure, so radiant; he hoped no matter how cruel he could be, he’d never act like that towards you. “Maybe someone I don’t deserve, but want to be better for.” 

His rough, calloused fingers drawing mindless patterns on the exposed skin of your waist. He didn’t know what Linda said next or when she left. 

Time seemed to stand still, his confession hitting his chest fiercely. He let himself sit with it for a moment, before you woke up. Enjoying a moment where he didn’t have to deal with anything, he didn’t have to say a word. 

He could just enjoy the moment without eyes judging him or you questioning why his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter whenever you were around. 

It was the first of many. Moments where he felt small pieces of himself chipped away into your care. Planes of existences within him no one had ever scratched the surface of. 

Much like right now as you cried into his chest, begging for mercy. 

Because you were afraid. Terrified you had made the worst mistake, an unforgivable one. You lied about your past and to Ransom it felt like more than a betrayal. More accurately he felt a dagger in his heart placed strategically with your murderous hands. 

He’d never felt such empathy and pain at once. Maybe he’d never been empathetic a day in his life at all. 

Until now. 

To make matters worse, he knew his entire family was watching the whole scene from the window. It wasn’t from worry or concern for either one of you. Mainly all of them enjoying pain being inflicted on Ransom. 

Linda of course wallowing in her ego, he could practically see her bask in her own pride. Another thing she’d been right about checked off the list. 

The rest of the family watched the two of you fight with shiteating grins permanently stamped on their face. They’d never seen Ransom care about anyone but you. To watch the relationship he held so close to his heart blow up so publicly, only fueled the fire to Ransom’s rage. 

Except Harlan. 

Even through his hot, beating anger Ransom was trying his best to comfort you. To calm you down even if you had been the one to be caught red handed. Harlan couldn’t believe it, someone Ransom seemed to care about more than himself. 

More than any of his family. Not that Harlan was offended. Well, maybe a little, but more so he was thrilled his grandson finally found someone he had to grow up for. Someone he had to earn, not buy. 

No bribes. No schemes. No games. 

Just you. 

“Hugh, please talk to me.” How could he? It’s not like he had much to say. Maybe he did, he just wasn’t sure how to get the words out without hurting you or himself. 

“I know I lied and I fucked up, but please — we need to talk about it.” Soft hands reaching for his own, but he brushed them off, his hands snaked higher on your waist. “We should have talked about this the moment you met me.” 

Dead silence is all you were met with as he walked the fine line of pushing you away, leaving you behind and pulling you closer than he ever had. 

“You’re right. I should have told you the truth but can you blame me?” He met you with solemn eyes and his own heart beating rapidly. “Yes I can.” Ransom was trying to act cold and distant but the two windows to his soul told a different story. 

“That’s fair.” Even as he was holding you, Ransom still felt like he was a galaxy away. He was withholding himself from you like a turtle retracting into their own protection. A year ago, before he met you, he knew he would have never even recognized it. 

Now, you made it possible for him to be aware of just how much he had changed. He broke old habits of his own just to please you so when you disappointed him, this unreachable high standard he held you to, it shattered his sense of self. 

“Did you still love him?” Ransom questioned you. “I did. At the time, he’s all I ever really knew. I thought that’s what love felt like. The only image of love I had was the one he gave me. So, I ran with him and it crushed me.” 

Ransom had to pretend the words you were speaking didn’t split him into you two. The image of you falling in love with someone else was enough to make him wanna strangle your ex. 

His friend. 

“Then we just got into one really big blow out. Right in the bar in front of all of his friends I had met for the first time that night.” You reached for a chunk of his sweater, clenching the material in your hand, like you were trying to convince yourself to let the words fall from your mouth. 

“He told me how much I’d been irritating him and I couldn’t help but notice every girl he flirted with and touched right in front of me.” You tested the waters, placing both of your hands over his chest, the beat of his heart calming you down. 

“Then I just cracked. It was only one of the many fights we’d been having over the course of the past few months. Everyone single argument pushed me closer to the edge, until the last one actually did.” You sighed, watching as he frowned. 

“I ended things that night, before getting thoroughly plastered and soon enough crying on the cement. Wasted and lonely out of my mind, until I met you.” You moved your hand from his heart, cupping his clean shaven face. 

“You made me realize I never knew what love really meant or felt like.” This piqued Ransom’s interest. 

You said love. 

Could a tragedy bring out the words Ransom craved to hear more than anything in the world? 

Maybe you cared about him, more than anyone ever showed him. But loved him? How could someone be as hateful as him be worthy of someone like you? 

Even if you had broken his heart, he’d done far worse to more people than he could count. He wasn’t really in a place to judge but it didn’t change the fact it still hurt. A lot. 

“Hugh.” You heard him gulp rather loudly. “Yes?” His tone came out as more of a question than a response. 

The silence he gifted you was unsettling at the very least. “You've barely said a word.” He was surprised he didn’t scurry off in his beamer the second he saw the guilt reach your eyes. 

He was surprised he hadn’t let his anger take over and let the rage he felt inside body take it all out on you. 

He was surprised he somehow couldn’t inflict a single hateful word towards you, even as you sat with his heart in your hands. 

In pure bliss of just how much you owned him. 

“I hate it. This fucking corner you’ve back me into. Not to mention for the prying eyes of my entire family to watch the show.” The sharp tone he uses sensoring you. “You used me just to get back at him.” 

“Like I was some pawn in your game and I really even shouldn’t be mad.” He paused, trying to choose his words as carefully as he can. “I’ve done the same thing to so many different women. Used them and threw them out at my earliest inconvenience.” To your surprise, even Ransom’s, a single tear left his eye showing you how much you really meant to him. 

You hated yourself for letting it get to this point. 

“But you? I could never even think about hurting you. I could never live with myself if I treated you like everyone else because you’re so much more than that to me.” The tears continued to roll. The dame Ransom kept shut his entire life, opened because of you and he just wanted to make it stop. 

He would give anything — even you. 

He just wanted to not feel like a piece of shit for once in his life. For a moment, he thought he might have a chance to be something more than the picture he portrayed in everyone’s mind. You showed him maybe it was more complex than it seemed. 

“I just assumed I was that for you.” You sighed in frustration, softly wiping his tears away. “You are, though. You are more than that.” 

“Then how could you be so okay with lying to me?” The crease between his eyebrows only created more of an indention as he felt the anger trying to escape out of him. 

You let the tension get to you first. 

“Because I-I was scared if I told you the truth, you’d never tell me.” You puzzled him once again. You softly reach up between his furrowed eyebrows, the pad of your thumb smoothing it out. 

“Tell you what?” His mind was clouded with the possibilities of what he could have missed. 

“I can’t spell this one out for you.” You were tired of being the one to do everything first. Even if your intentions weren’t free from fault once you realized who he was, your feelings for him were anything but. 

“I don’t know what you want from me. You only let me fall for you because you knew how much it would hurt him.” He bit back, growing impatient and tired. “Any other time, I would have cared. Probably would have been more than happy to assist. But you made me-” 

Then Ransom cut himself off, jumping out of the swing and away from you. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I thought I could.” He literally sprinted to his beamer, but you chased him. 

You were hell bent and just as crazy as he was. Maybe it’s why it worked for as long as it did. 

“Hugh! Get back here.” You were running, thankful you’d gone for a more casual outfit today, the sneakers supporting your feet far better than the heels you’d usually wear. 

Maybe if it was someone with a normal childhood upbringing you would have just cut your losses but this was someone who chose to be called Ransom. 

This was someone who chose to run away from love and care because the only affectionate way he knew how to treat someone was to throw money at them. 

This was someone who had the communication of a ten year old because that’s when his own mother didn’t bother to mess with him anymore before sending him off to boarding school. 

This was someone who didn’t know how to love — and to be loved. 

By the time you caught up to him his was digging for his keys, but he couldn’t fucking find them. 

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” Your tone was sharp and he knew you meant business. “For once in your life, stop running away.” 

“Why not? What good has it ever done for me to stay?” His back was facing you, his broad shoulders stilled with the rest of his body. Almost like he was ashamed of what he was hiding. 

“I can’t speak for everyone else. I can’t speak for your mother or for Richard. For Harlan or for anyone else you thought might abandon you and really did.” You inched you way closer until you knew he felt how close you were to him.

“I can only speak for me.” Giving yourself, the final piece of you to a man who might run away from it. 

You were so close he felt your breath on his back, and it made him tremble. He was shaking, terrified of it all. You didn’t let him be for long. 

Intertwining your fingers with his, as he kept them at his sides, rubbing your thumb along the palm of his hand. 

“I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. Lied to you. You never deserved it. Never.” You thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at you while pouring your heart out to him. A theory proved to be right as he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like a princess. You’ve done right by me, more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. It made me feel inadequate. My dark secret, always looming over us like a dark cloud of my own personal doing.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t done the proper thing by us and made you feel like I used you. You had every right to feel it because I did.” You took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever the future held for the two of you. 

“I never expected to fall in love with a trust fund, playboy brat.” You felt him take a deep breath, like a breath he’d be holding all his life could finally be set free. 

“I love you, Hugh.” The next thing you knew he had you pushed up against the car, lips hungrily attacking your own. 

All forgiven because you love him. You actually were in love with him. 

He couldn’t fathom it really because you’d been the first. To accept him just as he was. The first to refuse to call him Ransom because you like the way Hugh rolled off your tongue better. 

You liked how he felt on your tongue, too. 

The first to tell him Fran and Marta should call him Hugh because you wanted to be the only one who got to. The first woman to cook for him, willingly and not attached to the Thrombey payroll. 

The first woman he had ever fallen in love with. 

The first one he’d stick around and not run away for. 

So, he kissed you. Hard. Softly whispering how much he loved you into the kiss, because maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright. Loud and proud. 

Yet, he felt it with every bone of his body — no longer lost in the blues.

taglist: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @tinylumpiaa @brattycherubwrites

#im so anxious to post this #bc i dont really love it but....... #here we go folks. #i rewrote it too many times sksksk 💀 #not doing it again #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #m.writes

[curiousconch]

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 7)

Part 7: Round and around we go

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The attack in McGraw Byrne's offices reveals a deeper conspiracy that runs to the top of the law firm, which Alex pursued head on. But when the dust settles, she is forced to face the music of her own troubled mind.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.1k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / themes of violence, and trauma, language. Reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A week after, New York City

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The gunman panted as he ran through the dark and unfamiliar side streets of New York, the covering on his face not helping alleviate the sense of panic overtaking him.

His current state of mind paled in comparison with how calm he walked into the offices of that freakishly bright law firm.

The task was simple - get the phone and get out.

But when he found himself face to face with the woman who'd sent his life into a whirling clusterfuck, he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

He missed.

A brute of a man rammed into him right before he took a shot. Who knew corporate slaves can be combative? By then he knew he was fucked. He snatched the phone then ran.

An earlier scope of the building gave him an easy way out, but the shitty maze of the streets of the business district didn't give much of a reprieve.

I fucking hate this city.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, not until he had to stop by the dead end wall in front of him.

Blue and red flashing lights caught him in a daze, his breath heavy, realizing he was boxed in by police officers in an alley.

"Freeze!" one had shouted. "Raise your arms over your head!"

He didn't have a choice. He's not willing to die for his uncle, nor take another sentence in prison. That scumbag wasn't worth it, regardless of how many times that man tried drilling the thought into his head.

I'm tired of this shit anyway. Though I'll miss the perks.

He raised his hands, then felt his knees buckle when someone kicked him from behind, forcing him to the ground. Someone pulled the ski mask off his head, his face now exposed for everyone to see.

He was the younger, spitting image of Koenig's CEO. Except for those piercing blue eyes.

Now everyone will know, he thought. Poor uncle Peter will be burned to the stakes after he spill every single sordid detail of all the crimes Max was ordered to do.

From that pretty little celebrity in L.A., the poisoned man from Oklahoma, the researchers from Massachusetts, and all of those other victims in between.

Good thing he kept all those souvenirs. He will prove to them that he was just a pawn.

The pawn that was Maximilian Koenig Cornell.

**

A few days after, Rooftop of McGraw Byrne

Alex took another hit of nicotine from the cigarette between her fingers, standing by the edge of the fancy rooftop lounge. She exhaled a plume of smoke, the friction in her throat giving herself a temporary reprieve from her chaotic state of mind.

By the rest of the world's standards, it should have been a beautiful day. The skies above her was indigo, filled with streaks of orange from the setting sun. The peacefulness of it a far cry from the storm that was brewing inside her.

Success shouldn't feel this way. She was having a hard time basking in her recent victories.

Alex was just named junior partner this morning, after successfully taking Peter Koenig and Sadie McGraw down. Max Cornell, who turned out to be Koenig's nephew slash hitman, had confessed. He revealed who really was pulling the ropes, all in the form of well-kept call logs and text messages.

The backlash of it all reached McGraw Byrne's founding partner. The same form of proof exposed Sadie's hand on the Koenig class action suit, as well as her involvement in tipping off authorities to paint Marcus Sharpe as Aliana's murderer. The intent was to veer suspicion away from Koenig, making thousands of dollars along the way.

Alex had completely unraveled the conspiracy, with the help of Aislinn and Gigi. Beau, surprisingly, was more than participative. But it was obvious for everyone at the firm who led the crackdown, and it didn't take long for recognition to come to pass.

In everyone else's eyes, she emerged the winner.

And now, when all is said and done, there was nothing to escape to.

Alex can no longer disassociate herself from the sight of the gun barrel held by the ghost she tried to forget all these years.

The sound of applause, soured only by Martin Vanderweil's display of pain-in-the-ass arrogance, should have made her want to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Instead, here she was, wallowing with herself to be overcame by old bad habits.

What happened in the library was etched in her mind, clear as day. The memory of that close encounter with death, being brought up to life by the lack of distractions, made her shudder.

Every waking hour was consumed by the man with the haunting blue eyes that meant death. Those same eyes from the past that suffocated her for so long.

A decade spent running away from them, yet they still caught up with her.

She worked so hard not to remember, not to let it bring her down, for it not to be her end game. She's at the top of the fucking career ladder, yet why can't she still have a sense of freedom?

Everything just felt wrong. She felt out of place.

Lost in her frustrations, she didn't hear the whirring of the elevator and the approaching footsteps that followed.

"Thought I'd find you here," Gabe said, stopping inches away from her.

It took everything of her not to swivel and look at him, opting to curse at herself for how her body quickly relaxed by the softness of his voice.

The storm clouding her mind instantly dissipated, leaving her bare. Gabe's presence made the oceans within her stand still, as if awaiting to be stirred.

"Didn't want to be found," she mumbled, closing her lips on the still burning stick of nicotine. Alex struggled to keep her gaze steady at the slowly darkening skyline.

I know. Gabe wanted to say. He knew that finding her here, seeking out the comfort of isolation screamed her desire to be left alone. He had seen her internal turmoil, hiding behind the air of stoicism she projected for everyone else.

That's why he was never more determined to find her. He wanted, no, needed, to be there for her.

Gabe knew he'd been a dick to walk out from her that morning in L.A., right after he admitted what he felt for her.

But there was rarely an opportunity to make it right. Whenever there was, there was no getting through her. No matter how much he tried to reach out, to make her see that he regretted his actions that day, she wouldn't let him in.

He couldn't blame her.

Gabe told himself he'd give her time, to give her space. However, fate had other plans.

He almost lost her that night, and it was a wake up call. When he watched helplessly as Cornell aimed at her, something in him shifted. He's no longer stuck in a limbo questioning who Alex was for him, or why he constantly wanted to be near her, wanting to make everything right.

He was decided to run after her, to stay with her, no matter what. He was done chasing after dreams of the past.

Alex was his future.

"Can't get rid of me easily," he settled on that reply, leaning on the glass railing beside her.

"Really?" she quipped sardonically. "I honestly didn't take you to be the staying type."

That had to sting.

He knew he'd hurt her by leaving, so he deserved that. It wasn't enough to make his resolve waver.

"I am," he insisted. "It just takes me some time to find my footing."

She lifted a hand to him. "Don't go there, Gabe. Just don't - "

"I'm not walking away from you again, Alex," he professed.

She whirled to face him with a look of sullen resignation. "I know."

Deep down, she wanted him too. But not in the fucked-up state she was in. She needed to think, she needed to recover, she needed to get a grip on herself.

But she needed to do it alone.

"I can't deal with us now, it's just.." She sighed. "Everything else that's happened is too overwhelming."

Gabe deflated.

It was the first time he heard her admit defeat. He's gotten used to seeing her fighting every step of the way, that finding her in this state of hopelessness felt alien to him. His chest tightened, hating himself on taking part of what pushed her to breaking point.

"I need to take a step back from everything, Gabe," she said, almost begging. "That includes you."

"What do you mean?"

"Can I to take some time off?" she pleaded, wrapping herself in her own arms. "I have to hit pause for now."

"For how long, Alex?" Gabe's voice was strained. She just made it clear that he wasn't what she needed.

Still he hoped. So he held his breath.

Alex thought quietly for a few moments, before looking back at him in determination. He found a semblance of the Alex he knew.

"A couple of weeks," she answered with a tone of finality.

He didn't want to. But in his heart of hearts, he had to respect her decision. He understood that even the strongest needed to heal. Even the brave Alex Keating.

"I'll arrange it," he relented, closing his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her. "Anything else?"

She hesitated, biting her lower lip before she continued. "Actually, there is one more thing."

"What is it?" Gabe watched intently as she raised her head to look at him, her mouth curved into that familiar signature smirk that he'd grown to chase after.

"Will you wait for me?"

As per her usual modus operandi, Alex took his breath away by her unpredictability. Almost immediately, Gabe wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. He raised his free hand and let his knuckles brush against her cheek.

He smiled softly, a tad afraid that by holding her this close could break her. And yet, the effect she had on him couldn't be stopped from spilling out, as if it was what he wanted to say all along.

"I've waited my whole life for you, so what's a few more weeks?"

Alex beamed at him, relieved. "I knew you'll be up for the challenge."

"Because I care about you, Alex," he whispered.

"I care about you too."

Alex then dared to take it forward.

Before he had the chance to move away, she tiptoed and surprised him with a tender kiss on the cheek.

Gabe wasn't able to react as quickly, the contact catapulting his senses. Just as his mind plunged back to the ground, she was already walking away, the clicking of her black heels syncopating along with the beating drum inside his chest.

His sight followed her until she stood by herself in the employee elevator, her brown-eyed gaze melting him with earnest affection. As the doors shut closed, so did the heart of Gabriel Ricci.

It shut down in anticipation of her return.

**

Two months later

Mind hazy and craving for Chinese food, Gabe had asked the driver to take a quick detour.

He had just flown from Los Angeles, spending two weeks to assist on a big hotel chain M&A. He got out of LaGuardia at around 10pm, and now his jet lag and empty stomach were taking its toll on him.

The car stopped at the familiar block, and he got out of the vehicle, grabbing his suitcase. He walked the rest of the way, enjoying the craziness of New York City on a Friday night.

For a minute, it reminded him of her.

He heard rumors of her coming back, but HR had been heftily secretive on all things concerning her. With the firm fidgety over Vanderweil's recent harassment lawsuits, he erred on the safe side and didn't poke further.

It didn't take long for him to find Hoi On. Once inside, he greeted the servers in flawless Cantonese, striding straight to the counter.

As he gave his order, the kitchen crew brought out a bag of hunger-inducing takeout box. He was almost tempted to bargain for it instead of waiting for another 20 minutes. Until...

"Order complete for Alex!"

Gabe froze.

His senses were instantly filled by the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla and the echoing beat of heels hitting the floor.

There was no doubt about who was approaching the counter.

He found her standing beside him, the woman he'd missed every single day since he saw her last. The powerhouse junior partner with the easy smile and confident aura.

The woman whose return Gabe eagerly waited for.

"So," Alex began. "I take it tinsel town's fusion of cuisines can't match authentic Brooklyn takeout?" she teased, smiling at him in the same red dress she wore the first time she walked into his office.

He looked down over her - closely looking at the tiny changes in her features. Regardless, she looked more beautiful, taking note of the longer, loose tendrils of brunette hair framing her face.

"No," Gabe shook his head in amazement, his lips breaking into a lopsided grin. "Everything else couldn't compare."

She chuckled. The radiance of her laughter showed Gabe she was really back, and that she was finally ready.

"I bet they couldn't," she winked.

In an instant, Gabe's heart awoke from its slumber. It's as if it knew that this time, the wait was over.

The chase has come full circle.

Author's Notes: This may be the end of this series, but Alex & Gabe will return.

How did you find it? Let me see in your comments/reblogs! Thank you! 💖

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily  @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill @kachrisberry @weaving-in-words @peonierose @wanderingamongthewildflowers

@choicesficwriterscreations @lawsofattractionfanfiction

#laws of attraction #choices laws of attraction #choices loa #laws of attraction fanfiction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #choices loa fanfiction #gabe ricci #gabe ricci x mc #fics of the week

[caffeineaddicted-noonie]

[You don't have to do this, rush through this, or immediately do this! Take your time on this, and you can even answer it last! DO NOT think you are obligated to do this request, because you aren't! You do this amazing work for free, and I'm in no place to ever force you to do something you don't want to.]

Hey, hey, hey! I have 💞ARRIVED💞 for a creepypasta matchup request! I'm a 19-year old girl who lives in Marseille, and is half French/half American! I'm bisexual. I have chin-length short pink hair, light brown eyes, and pretty pale skin. I'm pretty tall, I'm about 5'5/5'6, not sure- Along my arms, I have lots of burns scars, only because I'm a pyro lmfao- Not to mention how clumsy I am, I tend to lose my balance a lot and have bandages all over my knees, attempting to cover the dozens of scrapes and cuts. For my general clothing choices, I always choose oversized type clothes.

I'm a writer whose extremely invested in horror, romance and fantasy, bonus points if it's all three! I also like exploring along forests, though I'm usually alone while doing so. I'll pick up random items, and store them forever within my box of random ass things. As you can tell, I have a bunch of junk. If I find a cat, you best bet I'm going to chase it down and try to pet it, I'll bring tuna everywhere just in case I find a cat. I also play guitar so there is that lol.

With my personality, I'm a ENFP. I'm extremely hyper, horny, chaotic, curious, and optimistic. With how hyper I am, I tend to accidentally scare people off with how much energy I have stored up, and the very same hyperactivity will make me get into chaotic situations. Like if a stranger just says hi, I'll get extremely hyper, and will be talkative while showing them my collection of rocks I found along the way and show them my (adorable angel) cats, I'll even give them little rocks or a cool leaf, then run off so fast that they would usually be confused on what just happened.

When I'm sad, all that energy will suddenly be depleted, and I'll just go home or the nearest small space I can wiggle myself in. When someone hurts my feelings, I'll completely stop talking, and run away to the nearest tree to hide in, only getting down when I finally wanna go home. But if someone really insults me where it hurts, my emotions will snap so fast, I'll be completely quiet, lots of glares will be shot by me and as I mentioned before, I would hide somewhere and not let them see me cry.

With crushes, I'll be flirty and upbeat, if they put me down, I'll spring back up just as fast! I'll probably drag them onto my adventures, and find it romantic, even if we're probably exploring a decaying shed. With crushes, I'm a complete pushover and will do anything they ask me to, I'll make it my absolute mission to complete the task they ask me to. If they flirt back, I'll shut up for once and try to evaluate if they were being friendly, or flirting. I'll just..stare at the ground for several minutes.

However, if they show no interest, I'll give up immediately and just leave them alone. My general love language is LOTS of affection, I'll literally fucking drown the person with my love and support if they end up liking me back. Love bites are also a HUGE part of my love language, not necessarily sexual love bites, just random bites from me, though if they bite me then I'd explode. If I see them being jealous, I'd internally die because it shows that they love me, but would IMMEDIATELY comfort them.

In summary, I'm just a sewer rat-

When I read this I was like, FINALLYY SOMEONEEE, I immediately saw you as someone with the same energy and vibe as me. Right, here's your match, I hope you like it! (Sorry it took like sooo long) 🌘🖤here you are~🖤🌒

I MATCH YOU UP WITH ~

TICCI TOBY 🪓

oh, a white pigeon.. log 1~ friends 🌹

+ so, at first he might have thought of you as another Jeff. yeah. And might have thought you were a vampire because of your pale skin and pink hair? He finds it cool tho. + I can see that you two get along pretty well and fast! It’s like an immediate click! + when he first saw your box of random things, he wondered what you had in there. ”Hey, I-i might have s-s-saw your bo-“ ”Of RANDOM THINGS??” ”Y-yeah, can i-“ ”Don’t, you can. COME ON!!” *Toby got dragged* + you have a kinda ”sister-brother” relationship. And with this, bonding + You two would just hang out anywhere and anytime together. Countless activities would be done. + If anyone makes you sad, you would see a moody Toby. It just makes him feel not great when you’re sad. If you’re sad he’s sad. + he knows when you’re sad or angry because it’s a bit obvious with your glares and seeing that you dont have the energy to do what you always do (running around, chasing things, etc etc) + Of course, that’s around the others. When he’s around a ”sad” you, he’ll try his best to cheer you up and help you get down on whatever tree you are on. What are friends for? + he finds you and your antics adorable. He'll probably help you chase cats (RUN CATS RUNNN) I can see you two owning a lot of stray cats. ”What the, a cat…*Tim takes the cat out*” ”Wait n-no,” ”What? It’s a“ ”She’s not an it, she’s Cassandra” ”Y-yeah” + Your extremely hyper, chaotic, curious, and optimistic personality really matches his jumpy, enerjetic personality. He’s like, one of or the only person that can match your energy.

with a love letter? log 2 ~ lovers ❤️

+ he’s the type of lover who would let you be you. You want to burn a building? Ok, as long as you do it with me. You want to go hiking? Ok, as long as I can do it with you. + If you didn’t get the note yet, he likes to do things with you. Spending time is one of his love language. + If you fall or trip, I think he would catch you before you even hit the ground. he’s pretty quick and agile. But, if he doesn’t he will be the first to hel you. + He doesn’t mind you being horny! He…might love that about you 😏 Oh and if you give him love bites, random or not, he will give you one right after too. He’ll flirt with you whenever he can (most of the time, he would charm you with his knowledge of French~) ”*Toby kisses your hand* Une dame a-amande…” ”Pfft-“ ”*he looks at you* W-w-what?” ”Did you mean to say, ‘Une dame amende’?” “U-uh?” ”You said, ‘a lady almond’ instead of ‘a fine lady’ hahah” ”O-o-h” (the ‘O-o’ literally depicts his face) + He will give you a lot of freaking affection, may it be for comfort or not, affection you will get! + your box of random things would be a room of random things. Trust me, it will. + In need of oversized shirts? No problem, your lover Toby provides a collection for you~ + I think he would find books or movies or series that have your 3 favourite genres. He would love to binge it with you. + You two would go on soOoOoOo many adventures together. There would be albums filled with pics, USBs full of videos and you two probably made like a personal movie of an adventure you two had. ”Under the Cave!” ”T-three!!” *explosion sounds* + I also think he was the first to ask because he thought he was crushing on you wayy to obvious. But, you crushing on him was also obvious. You two ended up confessing at the same time + In conclusion, this is adorable from the start.

Yup! I hope you like it! I’m sorry it took so long. Also, I apologise if the French that I used was wrong. Yep, hope you have a great day and take care!!

#creepypasta #toby headcanon #toby creepypasta #creepypasta matchups #creepypasta ticci toby #creepypasta toby #toby x addict #toby x reader

[cherrytsukkis]

streaming minecraft with the first years

- word count: 1.4k

- characters: hinata, kageyama, tsukishima, yamaguchi, yachi

- a/n: i made half of this on mobile and half on my laptop so,,, also i got way too immersed in this bc all i do is play minecraft (even tho i suck) anyways, enjoy this mess!! also ty to ppl on the rircus rerver for helping me with minecraft usernames!!

tsukishima made a server for y'all after you bribed him (also some of his viewers begged him to)

kageyama and hinata teamed up and killed tsukishima, not even a minute in

and you were just there like “:o chat yall seeing this shit”

yall spawned in near a birch flower forest biome thingy and you and yachi bolted over there

you asked yachi to be your minecraft gf and she accepted

as soon as she said yes, kageyama and hinata killed tsukki again lmao

you and yachi moved to a different voice call bc hinata kept screaming about how tsukki was after him now

you guys began planning on having a cute little cottage core home together

you go mining while yachi makes a farm + gathers animals

yachi screamed of joy when she found a chicken family

she also screamed when she happened to find a pink sheep

you guys are just talking about random stuff and were just vibing for the rest of the stream

the next time you stream on the server, you see that yams made a cute little spawn place and yams took you on an adventure to go see his home in the snowy mountains

tsukki logged on and you and yams proceeded to go try to find his home despite tsukki tell you to fuck off

for some reason, he starts giving you guys clues on where he’s at

you’re all like “omg friendship 🥰″

but in reality, someone donated like 50 bucks for him to kill you and he’s taking this opportunity to lure you guys

 it turns night really fast and then a group of zombies gang up on you

you end up dying like four times before you baby rage and give up 

you leave the voice chat and go back to being a wee farmer waiting for your lover, yachi, to log on

instead of yachi, you get hinata </3

hinata logs on and he immediately calls you

“hinata-”

“y/n!!! do you wanna go to the nether with me!!”

“no ❤️″

you hang up but then he calls you again

“i’ll give you a two pigs, i know you and yachi are looking for some”

thirty minutes later, hinata has gotten you lost in a soul sand biome

only plus from this trip is that you got a lot of glowstone

you ended up having to call kageyama and ask him to come save you bc yams was mining god knows where and tsukishima would never help you bc he’s a bully <3

kageyama was calling both of you dumbasses in the vc

hinata bc hinata is hinata and you for following hinata blindly

then he got lost somewhere else in the nether <3

and now the three of you were fighting as you ran away from ghasts and skele bois

“it’s the short height for me”

“it’s the abandonment issues for me”

“it’s the need to one up each other in every situation because y’all insecure for me”

this whole time your chats were telling yall to just look at coords so you could find each other but you guys are illiterate </3

yachi finally logged on and joined your call and she saved yall bc she was watching your stream this whole time and was like wtf

the vc was SILENT as yachi led y’all to the nether portal

you muted yourself in shame and starting thanking recent subs and just the chat in general

everyone in chat: ugh we stan a dumb queen 🤩

another time you go on the server, hinata has accidentally started a war against tsukishima and so like every five minutes you would see smth like “tinysun was blown up by moonshima” or “moonshima was shot by tinysun using schlong” (yes hinata is that guy)

speaking of names

yall clown kageyama every five seconds bc he made his ign ‘Setter_soul_x’ (bc his streamer name was taken </3)

he gets pissed off a lot and leaves the server bc everytime you guys start a fight, someone will be like “okay Setter_soul_x”

yachi has “yacchan” meanwhile yams had “yamagucci” and you can can decide whether you have a clapped ign or not

now to just talk about general stuff

i feel like yams and tsukki would be those bitches who make exp farms and shit

like one day you’ll log on and you’ll ask them where they’re at and they’ll be like “oh we’re making an enderman farm in the end” or “we just finished a villager breeder” or some shit like that

yachi would stick to farming and being a cottagecore gay and you would be the one to do most of the mining and shit

sometimes she’d follow you when you go to fight someone or just bother them

hinata made a giant netherrack meatball at spawn and inside of it is just pure hell

everytime someone tries to go in it, they get blown up by a creeper or smth bc its so fucking dark in there bc the dumbass forgot to put some type of light source in there

kageyama’s house is just a cube-shaped hole he mined somewhere and everytime he wants more space he’ll just expand the cube

you and tsukki end up teaming up together at one point and made a railroad to everyone’s homes and to different biomes

when everyone fought the wither, tsukki, yamaguchi, and hinata did most of the work you and kageyama were far away watching like “damn thats crazy” (yachi wasnt streaming at the time and just told you guys she didnt care if you did it without her)

when it was time for the ender dragon, it was a whole different story

tsukishima and yamaguchi were hella prepared and were calmly going around destroying the end crystals while you, hinata and kageyama were just trying to get away from all the angry endermen

yachi was just placing water down and making cobblestone huts y’all could hide under

once tsukki and yams finished destroying the end crystals, you joined them in shooting down the ender dragon

kags and hinata were still fighting endermen 

like all you’d see is “ __ was slained by Enderman” messages as you listened to tsukki and yams talk to each other calmly

yachi said she wasnt fighting no dragon bc fuck that shit

one y’all did kill the dragon, hinata tried to claim the dragon egg and tsukishima yelled at him for like ten minutes bc hinata didnt do shit

and while tsukki fought with hinata and kageyama, you and yachi followed yamaguchi into an end gateway

you found an end city but then you fell outta the world </3 dont ask how, you just did

you decided to log off and that was that

another time you logged on, tsukki invited you to go with him to a woodland mansion bc he got a map

you thought he was being fishy but you went anyways bc content

everything was going well, you guys traveled there together, found a desert temple along the way, you tamed a cat, tsukki talked about conspiracy theories with you

but then you got to the mansion and you lost him

you were like tsukki where tf you’d go and he would tell you a place and you would go and he wasnt there

you were about to cry bc so many mobs were after you and u just boxed yourself into a little dirt hut in the corner and you kept yelling at tsukki in vc

he muted himself bc he was laughing his ass off at your pain heart been broke so many times

he finally came to get you bc apparently he already moved upstairs and just as you calmed down, tsukki betrayed you

you walked in front of him in fear of mobs hitting you from behind but tsukki ended up hitting you with a sword to death </3

you immediately logged off and then cried to your stream about fake friends for like ten minutes while listening to the inside out soundtrack

your chat convinced you to log back on and hesitantly joined the vc again and tsukishima apologized while trying to hold back laughter and told you that he put your stuff in your chest and you were like 🥺🥺🥺

overall the server is very chaotic but kinda nice bc family bonding ❤️ and even tho tsukki is a dick he along, with yams, help you and yachi out sometimes so your cottagecore aesthetic thrived

UNEDITED.

tag list: @kaoyuuuuu​ @macaronnv < it wont let me tag you :((

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hinata x reader #kageyama x reader #tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yachi x reader #hinata shoyo #kageyama tobio #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #yachi hitoka #haikyuu!!

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 2

Chapter Title: Home

Warnings: none

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

He wakes to the sound of knuckles rapping against the bedroom door and the voices of his two youngest daughters. A hearty, home cooked meal and a soak in the hot tub had been exactly what his weary and aching body had needed. Barely managing to pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before exhaustion had taken over; passing out -face down- in the middle of the double king in the master bedroom. It isn’t an easy feat; napping in a house filled with seven kids. There’s always some level of chaos; near constantly bickering between the four oldest, the three littles shrieking and giggling as they chase each other around, the sound of the television or the explosions and gunfire coming from a video game being played. The latter accompanied by the occasional outbursts of profanity as Declan and TJ argue over who is beating who. If he has been away or been logging way too many hours handling things behind the scenes and DOES manage to catch some extra sleep, Esme does her best to keep the volume down; usually taking the kids down to the water or into town for a few hours. In the same way he does for her; giving her much needed ‘mommy breaks’ from time to time and letting her have the entire house to herself. It's the least he can do; let her have the house to herself to catch up on sleep or just sit and read a book on the back or to have a glass of wine while indulging in a bubble bath by candlelight.

Life is crazy in their home; noisy and chaotic and their schedules filled with work or running the kids around to their extra curricular activities. It’s tiring and often extremely frustrating; dealing with THREE preteens, a kiddo with Tanner’s additional issues, and both Brooklyn and Declan so high spirited. Addie and Takota are the easiest to deal with; one very bubbly, affectionate, and extremely social, the other quiet and thoughtful and extremely mild mannered. It’s an existence he’d never thought he’d have. Losing his first child -and the horrible mistake he’d made leading up to it- had nearly destroyed him; the combined feelings of profound grief and guilt eating away at him and leading to his addiction issues. He’d never thought he’d get another shot at a normal life; a chance to be a husband and a father again. And while he regrets the years he spent putting his family last and running away out of fear of failure, he knows many more ahead of him; many more chances and opportunities to make things right.

“Daddy?” Addie’s voice accompanies the continued knocking on the door. “Are you awake?”

He rolls over onto his back and presses the heels of his palms into his weary eyes. “Yeah…” he pushes his hands through his hair and stretches; wincing at the pain and stiffness in his lower back. “...I’m awake.”

“Mumma says dinner will be ready in about half an hour. She sent us to tell you.”

“I’m here too!” Brooklyn pipes up. “Can we come in? Can we come see you?”

“We want snuggles,” Addie says. “We haven’t had daddy snuggles in a LONG time.”

“In a really long time.” Brooklyn adds.

“We really want to snuggle with you,” Addie’s tiny voice has a pleading quality to it, and he can’t help but smile; picturing that pout and those sad little eyes and the way she tucks her chin into her chest.

She is definitely her mother; the petite stature and the small, delicate features and that smooth, pale skin accentuated by the dark strands of hair that frame her face. Their personalities are a match as well; bubbly and social and easily excitable. And the smile. So beautiful. Pure, even. Always genuine; brightening their entire face and making those dark eyes sparkle. Perhaps it’s why...out of all the kids...he tends to baby Addie. Not just that impossibly tiny build and that sunny and light disposition that never fails to make him smile, but because she IS so much like her mother. A constant reminder of the person who single handedly changed his life; saving him in every way a person CAN be saved.

“Daddy?” Brooklyn raps her knuckles against the door once again. “Can we? Can we come for snuggles?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You get to see us!” Addie gives a dramatic huff. “You’re two most favourite girls in the whole world!”

“Get in here, then. If you’re going to put it like THAT.”

The door swings open and the girls come rushing in; giggling as they toss themselves onto the bed and scramble up towards him. Gathering them into his arms when they settle on either side of him; showering their cheeks and foreheads with kisses and running his hands over their silky, dark hair. Despite being almost a full year old, Addie remains the smaller of the two; petite in stature, possessing her mom’s small, almost dainty features and those enormous dark eyes. Esme in every possible way; appearance, personality, even the same body language and facial expressions. Brooklyn is a mix of both mom and dad; tall and lanky with his eyes and Esme’s dark hair and pale skin. She’s feisty and fearless; a lot of energy and tenacity packed into the skinny frame. She reminds him of TJ; stubborn and temperamental, yet loving so deeply and profoundly.

The girls settle in next to him; each of them with a hand resting on his stomach and their heads on his chest. His palms smoothing over their hair and then settle on the middle of their backs. It’s the greatest achievement of his life. If not the ONLY achievement. Being a dad is the one thing that he can truly be proud of; having a hand in creating seven beautiful human lives and being entrusted to bring them up to decent adults. Nothing drives him to want to be better and do better than his family. Wanting nothing more than to be the kind of father that his kids talk about and remember fondly when they have their own children. Seeing him love their mother with everything he is and everything he has; respecting her and treating her well and insisting they do as well teaching them what they should do and expect in a relationship.

It’s what he wants for his sons; finding someone they love and they want to devote themselves and who make them happy. And the same goes for his daughters; hoping the way he treats their mother teaches them what they should expect from the men -or women- in their lives. He never wants them to settle for less; end up with someone like Mark that will degrade them and abuse them in every possible way. They’re strong; like their momma. And being taught how to respect and take care of themselves. But he’d gladly take an assault charge and do time in jail messing up something that hurts his girls.

“Daddy?” Addie places her chin on his chest and reaches up to run her palms along his cheeks. “Why’d you have to go away?”

“I had some business to take care of.”

“You had to go be a boss?”

“I had to go and do a favour. For Uncle Anil.”

“What kind of favour?”

“Did you have to kill someone?” Brooklyn inquires, and lifts his arm and slips under it, pushing her tiny fingers through his much larger and longer ones.

“Why would I have to kill someone?”

“TJ said that before you became a boss, you used to go and kill people,” she explains. “Really bad people. That hurt good people. Is that true? Is that what you used to do?”

“Once in a while, yeah.”

“Is that why you went away?” Addie asks. “To kill someone?”

“I went away to do a favour for Uncle Anil and that’s all you two need to know. You been having a good time? Being back in the city?”

“It’s not as fun as when you’re not here,” Brooklyn says. “Mommy tries, but it’s hard for her to have fun with ALL of us at that same time. That’s a lot of kids; for her to try and make happy all at once. Especially when Millie is being Millie. She never wants to do anything with the rest of us.”

“She’s been really mean,” Addie adds. “To mummy. TJ got mad at her for it; he freaked out and threatened to kick her ass.”

He stares at her pointedly. “Pardon me?”

“Kick her butt, I meant. He was really mad. He said when you’re gone, he’s in charge. And that if you wouldn’t let Millie talk to mummy like that, he wasn’t going to let her do it either.”

“Then they had a big fight,” Brooklyn chimes in. “ And mummy started yelling at Millie and then Millie said she hated her and it made mummy sad. She locked herself in the pantry. I think she was crying. TJ said to leave her alone; that she’d come out when she felt better. Then he made us a snack and took us into the backyard to play in the snow. Why is Millie being like that? Mean to mummy? Mummy doesn’t deserve that. She’s an awesome mummy.”

“If we got to pick our mummies and daddies, I’d pick mummy over everyone else,” Addie muses. “She loves us. She cuts the crusts off our bread and makes dinosaur shaped pancakes and puts chocolate chips in them. And she always gives us the biggest pieces of cake or pie and just takes a little bit for herself. And she’ll make herself something different to eat, if there’s not enough for all of us. Even if it’s just a peanut butter sandwich. She says it’s what mummies do; make sure their kids have everything first. “

“She’s a good mummy,” Tyler agrees. “She’s an amazing mummy. I couldn’t have asked for a better one for you guys. And you’re right; she doesn’t deserve Millie being that way. Is that why mummy sent her out? With her friend?”

“Mummy’s feelings were really hurt,” Brooklyn pouts. “Because she tries really hard to take care of us and Millie acts like that.”

“I’ll talk to mummy. Cheer her up. And I’ll talk to Millie too.”

“Millie told us not to tell you,” Addie informs him. “She said she’d kill us. In our sleep.”

“Well, she won’t get the chance. Not if I kill her first.”

“You won’t kill Millie. She’s your daughter.” Brooklyn’s fingertips trace the tattoo that takes up the entire length of the inside of his left forearm. A permanent version of the stick figure drawing that Millie had inked onto him five years ago; their entire family -at the time- including the two dogs. The last set of twins had been added afterwards; Millie reluctantly adding two new siblings to the mix. “Maybe you can just lock her in the attic. Just feed her once in a while.”

“I can’t do THAT either. I’d go to jail. You don’t want me going to jail, do you?”

Brooklyn shakes her head. “I don’t even like when you go away for a weekend. I don’t want you to go to jail for the rest of your life. We’d never see you.”

“Mummy would bring us to visit,” Addie says. “She’d make sure we got to see him.”

“Mummy isn’t going to take us into a jail,” her sister argues. “That’s not a nice place, Ads. There's a lot of bad there.”

“Daddy’s not bad. But he’d be there. If he killed Millie or locked her up.”

“Mummy still wouldn’t take us. She wouldn’t want us in a place like that.”

“We would have to Skype then. Or Zoom.”

“Not the same. That’s not like seeing him in person. I want to see him in person. That’s why he CAN’T lock Millie up. We’d never see him again. Would you want THAT to happen?”

“No. I’d be really sad. If I didn’t get to see daddy again.”

Tyler grins. “You two do realize I’m right here, yeah?”

“Who would get the spiders and snakes out of the house?” Addie frets. “Mummy freaks out when she sees them. Remember the time she screamed and woke us all up? Almost made me pee my pants. All ‘cause there was a Huntsman on the stove.”

“Mummy was so scared!” Brooklyn giggles. “Remember she was crying? And swearing? And was yelling at daddy to get the spider? And daddy put in the container and chased her outside with it? She said she was going to divorce him because of it. She never did though.”

“But did he have to sleep on the couch for a week,” Addie says. “ I do remember that. Because he tried to sleep in my bed and it was way too small for both of us. His legs were hanging off. ‘Cause he’s like ten feet tall.”

“I’m only six three. But that was funny, wasn’t it? Chasing mommy with the spider? Even if I DID have to sleep on the couch for a week. It was worth it. Seeing her freak out like that.”

“It was hilarious!” Brooklyn enthuses, then turns serious. “But don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want her making me sleep outside. It’s cold out.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise.” He presses a kiss to one forehead, then the other. “What’s mummy making for dinner?”

“Chicken parm. Yummm.” Addie rubs her stomach enthusiastically. “It’s the one thing she cooks REALLY well. Well, the only thing she cooks well.”

Tyler can’t help but chuckle. “You’re savage.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for. You know what mummy said?”

“I’m kind of scared to ask.”

“She said you’re taking Brookie and I d\to the American Girl store. For lunch. Two days after Christmas.”

“That’s news to me.”

“She said it’s your turn to do it,” Brooklyn says. “She did it two years in a row. It’s time for you to take one for the team. That’s exactly what she said. Are you? Are you going to take us?”

“I guess I am. Any other dads go to that place?”

“I don’t know,” Addie shrugs. “I’ve seen a couple, I guess. You’ll really do it? You’ll really take us?”

He nods. “But I am NOT wearing a tiara or anything girlie. Got it?”

“What about a fancy hat?” Brooklyn suggests. “Or one of those feathery scarves? Like we have in the dress up bin.”

“What did I just say? I’m taking you there. Isn’t that enough?”

“I told you,” Brooklyn grins victoriously at her sister. “He doesn’t know how to say no to us.”

“*****

She’s in the kitchen; denim clad ass on full display as she leans against the island. Forearms resting on the granite counter top as she flips through that day’s copy of the New York Times; a glass of white wine and a half eaten bar of chocolate within reaching distance. The littlest girls remain upstairs. Their hysterical laughter and the pounding of footsteps echoing through the house; Declan and TJ chasing them throughout the second story while roaring like dinosaurs. In the living room, Tanner teaches an intensely focused and intrigued Takota how to play checkers; the board placed on an ottoman in front of the gas fireplace.

Esme gives a small start when he curls an arm around her waist; his free hand moving her ponytail away from the nape of her neck and his lips pressing against the soft, supple skin. “Hey sleeping beauty,” she greets, as both of his hands settle on her hips and she leans back against him. “Feeling better?”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to her temple, followed by the cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “Thank you. For letting me sleep.”

“You needed it. You’ve had a hell of a five days. That’s a heck of a lot of travelling; tons of hours in the air. I’m surprised you didn’t just want to stay in bed. You could have said that you know; that you just wanted to sleep. I would have understood; I wouldn’t have been offended.”

“I spent five days away from you guys. I don’t want to miss another minute. Although, I gotta say, I had quite the wake up call. You throwing me under the bus.”

She tilts her head back and grins up at him. “Girls must have told you about the lunch at American Girl.”

“They did. And I have to say, that place? My own personal hell.”

“Every year since we started having Christmas here, they’ve got to have lunch there. I’ve taken them there both years. And besides…” she turns around to face him, hands coming to rest on his sides. “...the only day I could get reservations, was the same day that I’m taking Millie, Declan and TJ to the Rangers game.”

“What about Ovi? Or Riya?”

“Ovi is taking Tanner to the American Museum of Natural History. They do it every Christmas.”

“Riley?”

"She and Shaena aren’t arriving until two days after. Come on…” she repeatedly rubs her palms up and down his ribs. “...I’ve done it two years in a row and I can’t do it a third. Do you want me to be an alcoholic? Or to eat my weight in cheesecake? Or both? Because if I have to go to that place again…”

“What do I get out of it?”

“I’m sure we can...arrange...something. I’m not above doing favours.”

He grins. “What kind of favours?”

“Sexual ones. EXTREMELY sexual ones. Unless there’s other favours you’re thinking about.”

“No. I think sexual favours would work just fine. I won’t turn those down.”

“I’d probably die of a stroke if you did.”

“Well, we don’t want that, do we.” His palms slide around to her ass and he pulls her even tighter into him; her hands settling on his biceps and she stands on her tiptoes and into a kiss. And he both hears and feels her giggle when his fingers dig into the flesh of her ass.

“So is that a ‘yes?” Esme asks. “You’ll take Addie and Brookie to American Girl?”

“You really thought I’d say I wouldn’t do it?”

“Everyone has their limits. I thought that just might be yours. They really DO have you wrapped around their little fingers.”

“Who do you think they get THAT from? Their ability to do that?”

“I have no idea. I have no clue where they could have gotten that from. Must be a gift.”

“Yeah, a gift their mother gave them. I was pretty much wrapped around your little finger from that first day, so…”

“Only took you twelve years to admit it. I mean, I’ve known it this entire time. It was pretty obvious. To everyone BUT you.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. And what’s up with these?” She reaches between and slides her hands under the front of his t-shirt; fingers toying with the ties on the waistband of his joggers. “Gray sweats? You know my weakness for gray sweats. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is that what it takes these days? Me wearing gray sweats?”

“You could be wearing a garbage bag and you’d manage. You’re pulling out all the stops. Flowers, gray sweats. Although the latter? I already know what’s under them; not like it’s a secret.”

“I thought you liked unwrapping your gifts?”

A grin slowly spreads from ear to ear. “Oh, I do. And it’s the gift that keeps on giving. You know, you didn’t have to try so hard. I was going to put out anyway. I mean, it’s been almost a week. I’m a little...frustrated...to say the least.”

“That makes two of us. You didn’t bring one of your little ‘friends’ to New York with you? One of your special toys?”

“Nope. I wanted to wait for the real thing. So you better not disappoint me, husband. I have very high standards. And expectations. If you don’t live up to those…”

“Have I ever NOT lived up to them?”

“That was a very good point.” Her fingers hook in the waistband of his sweats, once more standing on her tiptoes, giggling into his mouth and then pushing him away when his hands clamp down on her ass. “Thank you. For agreeing to you that. Going to the doll place. You’re a real trooper, husband. I owe you one.”

“I’ll add it to the list. Of the favours you owe me.”

“You have a list?”

“You don’t?”

“Maybe…” she sing songs, then turns back to face the island. “...and you’ll have to put up with them going on a little shopping spree. My mother send them gift cards; to American Girl.”

“Your mother actually sent them something?” He moves to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water before briefly stepping into the pantry; resurfacing with a handful of pills. Meds to control the mild to moderate pain and the inflammation from the arthritis that inhabits his body and an antidepressant AND psychotic. It’s old hat now; four times a day to control pain, the others taken twice a day to ward off any issues from his mental health problems. And it’s been five years of pretty good success; no major depressive episodes and only a handful of panic attacks. A far cry from the life he HAD been living.

“I actually think it was my step father. Have you noticed how things change every time they get back together? The emails start up, the birthday cards and money start rolling in, the Christmas gifts arrive. It’s like clock work; they hook back up, she attempts to come across as a normal grandmother.”

Uncapping the water, he swallows half with the handful of pills, then stands across from her and leans stomach first against the counter. “We both know there’s nothing normal about that woman. How you turned out relatively sane is beyond.”

“Relatively sane? Are you trying to say I’m just a tad INSANE?”

“I’m saying you have a tendency to be a little...high strung. A little neurotic.”

“Yet you still married me. Imagine that.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for big brown eyes and freckles.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t my eyes and my freckles that you first noticed. But whatever helps you sleep at night. But yes. My mother DID send them something. Shockingly, she sent them ALL something. I can’t believe she even remembered we have seven children. I thought maybe she stopped counting after Declan.”

“Well she stopped caring after TJ and Tanner. Remember how pissed she was that we named one of them after me?”

“Oh, I distinctly remember the epic hissy fit she threw in my hospital room. When we told her what their names were. I completely remember her meltdown.”

“Wasn’t it something about that name just setting the kid up for failure? I think I remember a part about me being a black cloud over the whole family and just bringing bad luck on the kid? Something like that, anyway.”

“She’s fucking insane. She always has been. I warned you; before we moved to Colorado. I told she was nuts. You thought I was overreacting.”

“I will never, ever doubt you again. And I’m going to regret even asking, and don’t take this as a sign I actually give a shit, but how is the old bitch doing?”

“Well, she’s still alive. Alive enough to grate on my nerves and make me want to drink. Alive enough to undergo her sixth round of chemo. What ever happened to the whole ‘she won’t live past a year’ scenario? That’s what we were told. SIX years ago. You think she’s THAT evil? So evil nothing can kill her?”

“I think she’s got a few horseshoes up her ass. She’s not done tormenting people yet, I guess.”

“Well she can right ahead and torment someone else. I’m not in the mood for her shit.” Picking up the glass of wine, she downs half of it, then moves to the fridge to grab the bottle out of the fridge.

“Something tells me that isn’t sparkling cider.”

“It’s the real deal. I actually had it delivered. It’s been a long day. Between dealing with my family and their attempts at reconciliation and your daughter between the spawn of Satan, be thankful I’m not already passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“Shades of last New Years Eve. She’s been that bad? Millie?”

“Bad doesn’t even begin to describe what she’s been like. Bad times...oh I don’t know...a thousand?” She fills the wine glass to the brim, then takes another long swallow. “Did you hear about my meltdown? How I locked myself in the pantry of sorrow and self pity? I know for sure the girls told you about that.”

“Yeah, they told me. Something about Millie saying she hates you.”

“Remember how she told me she hated me when she was six? Over the whole not telling her you were in the hospital thing? Remember I told you that nothing could possibly hurt more than your six year old telling you she hates you?”

Tyler nods.

“I was wrong. I was SO wrong. It hurts much worse when your eleven year old tells you. Because when they get to THAT age and you actually see and hear the hate they have for you? Yeah, that’s the real deal. And you know why it started? I asked her to unload the dishwasher. That’s it. She threw a fit; freaking out about how I’m lame and boring and stupid and I’m ruining her life and she hates me. That’s the kind of day I’ve had.”

Sighing heavily, he runs his hands over his face. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Oh that will go over real well. Like a fart in church. You know what that’s going to do? Cause an even bigger freak out. Over me turning daddy against her. You know that’s what she’ll say. She says it every time you get on her about something. She calls me a rat and a snitch. A cry baby. For running to you and whining about things. Her exact words.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t switched at birth? Are you sure they didn’t fuck up at the hospital and our real daughter isn’t out there somewhere? How did we have a kid like this? Neither of us are THAT bad.”

“I’d accept the switch at birth theory if she didn’t look just like you. If she didn’t have the same body language and facial expressions and all that. It’ll just make things worse; if you talk to her. She’ll just hate me even more and there’ll be even more drama in the house. Can we not have a nice Christmas? I’d like to have a nice Christmas.”

“With her acting like THAT? Won’t be too nice if she’s pulling that bullshit. She can’t get away with that, Me. She can’t talk to you like that. Disrespect you like that. I don’t let strangers disrespect my wife so I’m sure as hell not going to let my own kid do it. I’ll talk to her.”

“By talk to her, you actually mean put the fear of God into her.”

“If I have to. Is she home now?”’

“Up in her room sulking. Because some boy called her for her and I wouldn’t let her talk to him.”

“A boy called? Here. For Millie? Our Millie. Who doesn’t give a shit about boys back home. That’s who we’re talking about, yeah?”

“Some boy she met at the movies,” Tanner says, as he wanders into the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge. “Aaron. What a dumb name. I bet he IS dumb. You’d have to be dumb to like Millie.”

“Okay, Nugget, that is not nice,” Esme gently scolds. “I know she’s been a holy terror since we got here, but that is not a nice thing to say about your sister.”

“She’s evil. She told Declan he’s adopted and that’s why he has red hair and doesn’t look like any of us. And she made Takota cry; she told him an alligator lived in the toilet and that the next sat down on it, it was going to bite his penis off.”

“And this was all on the first day here,” Esme addresses Tyler, and sips her wine. “And you wonder why I’m drinking.”

“I bet you it’s puberty,” Tanner says, as he turns on his heel and heads back to the living room. “I read about it, you know. It’s all about the hormones. Some people go totally off the reservation. I bet that’s Millie’s issue. She’s probably going to get her period soon.”

Esme scowls. “Thank you, Nugget. We really need to hear that. That just made things so much better.”

“I’m just saying, mum. It would explain A LOT. Didn’t you used to get all nutso when you had your period?”

“Not that my menstrual cycle is any of your business, but how old do you think I am? WHEN I had it? I still have it, thank you very much. Why do you think your dad comes home with cartons of ice cream and bags of chocolate bars at the same time every month? He knows it tames the beast.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I am NEVER getting married,” Tanner declares. “Too much craziness. I’m not dealing with THAT shit.”

Esme gives a derisive snort and looks at her husband. “Have kids they said. It’ll be fun they said.”

“I told you we should have stopped after the first one. But you didn’t want her to be an only child. You said she’d be lonely and hate us for not giving her siblings and people to play with. And now here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are. Seven later. And as much as they drive me insane and as feral as they are and even though I could run away sometimes, I love them. They drive me to drink, but I do love them. I’m not a perfect mother. I know that. But I try. You know I do.”

“You’re an amazing mum. Don’t don’t doubt it because Millie is being a bitch. Don’t take it to heart; I told my old man I hated him tons of times.”

“Your father used to beat you on the regular and lock in a shed for two days with no food. This is hardly the same thing. He gave you many reasons to hate him. Am I giving her reasons? To hate me?”

“No. You’re not. You’re a great mum, Me. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. This is her. All her. And she doesn’t hate you. She loves you. You’re her mother.”

“I saw it in her eyes, Tyler. I heard it in her voice. She does hate me. And…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...and it hurts. Because I have tried so hard over the last eleven years to be a good mom. I’ve tried to be the complete opposite of what I had growing up. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. To make her hate me? What have I done? What mistakes have I made?”

“Me...come on…” Walking around to the other side of the island, he plucks the wine glass out of her shaky hand and sets it on the countertop. “...this isn’t about you.” Cradling her face in his palms, his thumbs brush against her cheeks as he presses a kiss to her forehead and then draws her into his arms; tightly pressed against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other on the nape of her neck. “None of this is about you.”

“Where did I go wrong with her? What…?”

“Nowhere. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know it hurts, babe. I know it makes you feel like shit; hearing her say those things. But it’s not your fault.”

“Something had to have happened. For her to be like this. I must have done something.”

“Hey…” he once more takes her face in his hands. “...stop. You didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong. This is all her. Whatever the fuck is going on, I’ll find out. I’ll talk to her.”

“Try not to make things worse.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t.”

“I just don’t get her. When I found out she was going to be a girl, I had all these plans. All these little daydreams. About how close we’d be and all the things we’d do together and how I’d be so different from my own mother. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard. Not to be anything like her.”

“And you’re not. You’re nothing like her.”

“I just don’t know what happened. Between Millie and I. And if I don’t know what happened, how am I supposed to fix it? She won’t talk to me. Not without fighting, anyway. And when she gets started in on me, TJ loses it. He flips his shit.”

“He’s protective of his momma. He always has been.”

“He is so much like you. It’s like watching and listening to a mini you. It’s scary sometimes; how alike the two of you are. Could you get him to rein it in a bit? Because he snaps and it’s not a nice thing to see. I’m afraid he’ll hurt her one day. Really hurt her.”

“I’ll talk to him too. He’s just protective. He’s trying to take care of you. But I’ll talk to him; get him to tone it down.”

“I thought he was going to beat the shit out of Jacobi today. That would not have ended well.”

“Yeah, he would have destroyed Jacobi.”

“He’s seventeen. TJ’s ten.”

“Don’t underestimate that kid. I’ve seen him fight. He took on four kids when he was five. Older kids. And beat the shit out of all of them. He could take Jacobi. No doubt in my mind. Should have let him try. I would have loved to have seen that.”

“Don’t encourage it. The last thing we need is him beating the crap out of Jacobi and Jacobi’s mother showing up on the doorstep.”

“Imagine how embarrassing that would be? Your seventeen year old son getting his ass beat by a ten year old?”

“We are not going to encourage our ten year old to beat anyone’s ass.”

“Ask me the kid deserves it. I know about his little crush on you.”

“He’s a teenager. I have seven kids. I’m forty one years old!”

“A very hot and sexy forty one year old.”

“In your eyes.”

“In A LOT of peoples’ eyes. What? You think I don’t know. That my wife’s a MILF? I’ve known it for eleven years. It’s nothing new. I’ve got thirsty women at the soccer park and on the playground, you’ve got horny seventeen year olds.”

“Only seventeen year olds don’t stand a chance. The women at the soccer park and on the playground? They’re all grown up.”

“And I don’t give a shit about a single one of them. I only have eyes for you, babe. Do I wear my gray sweatpants for anyone else?”

She grins. “No.”

“Do I wear them out in public? Or do I just wear them at home?”

“Just at home. Because you know I love gray sweatpant season. Especially YOU during gray sweatpants season.”

“Only you, Me,” he says, and cradles her face in his hands as he kisses her softly. “It’s always only been you. It always will be.”

*****

Despite having their own bedrooms, the three littlest insist on sleeping in the same bed; all climbing under the covers in Addie’s room and then settling down for a round of bedtime stories. They’re still excited from both his return and what it means now that he’s under the same roof. Christmas activities are now able to commence; decorating inside and outside, going to pick out a tree, a visit to Rockefeller centre, skating and sledding. The seven had all banded together, insisting that no lights or decorations be put up until daddy got there. It will be a whirlwind of activity; only a week before Christmas day and so many things that need to get done. An attic full of presents -shipped from Australia throughout the year and intercepted by Ovi and put into hiding- that need to be wrapped, lights that need to be put up outside, his own shopping that needs to get done. Never learning NOT to save getting things for the wife at the last minute.

He used to hate Christmas; too many memories -both good and bad- that tied him to his mother and in turn, the loss of her and his father’s torment and abuse. Even during his first marriage and when Austin was alive he’d sucked at ‘getting into the spirit; attempting to be happy and trying his best to enjoy the moments with his little family. As a single guy living in the shack in the outback, he’d simply ignored the holiday altogether; spending it drunk and high off his ass or taking jobs that no one else would. And it had been a struggle; getting used to a wife that loves Christmas and everything associated with it. But seeing the joy in her face and how excited his kids get leading up to the days before Santa’s visit had helped repair the wounds inside of him. Using their happiness as a way of igniting his own; quickly and effortlessly finding his own joy in the season and in making new traditions and memories with his family.

By the end of the third bedtime story, all three littles are asleep; girls passed out under each arm and Takota stretched out on top of him. It’s a feat to get away without waking any of them up. Somehow managing -despite the discomfort and tightness in his back that has him wincing- to set up and gingerly place his son in the middle of Brooklyn and Addie before slowly and cautiously climbing out; tucking Addie’s pink and frilly unicorn themed comforter around all three little bodies before turning out the light and slipping from the room. Door left slightly ajar; Mac taking his usual resting place in front of it. He’ll stay there until he’s certain his tiny charges are safe and sound, then will make his way into the master bedroom and find his usual spot at the end of the bed.

He checks on the older boys; still awake and busying themselves in the twins’ room; mindful to keep the noise down so as not to wake their siblings. The room is enormous; twice the size of the master and consisting of its own full bathroom with double sinks and showers. Declan has his own quarters but often bunks in with TJ and Tanner; making himself comfortable with just a sleeping bag and a pillow on the floor and insisting that’s all he needs. Tanner is already ‘locked’ in his own little world. A safe and quiet place that Tyler had created for him on the bottom bunk; enclosing it with a sliding barn door easily opened from both inside and out, and strings of white mini lights giving the kid the calm and soothing ‘ambiance’ he needs when overwhelmed. He’s good at managing it; knowing ahead of time when he’s starting to become overstimulated and always finding a quiet and safe place to ‘decompress’. He often handles it better than even his parents do; learning how to cope with the things that trigger him and being his own best advocate.

“Hey...Nug…” he raps his knuckles against the wood. Giving Tanner both the chance to answer and to decide if he wants his ‘safe space’ breached. “...you alive in there? Give me a sign.”

He gets a knock back in response, followed by the rustling of blankets before the door slides open and Tanner’s face greets him; his shoulder length hair messy and knotted and a beaming smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Hi dad.”

“You good? Everything alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to be quiet.”

“I don’t blame you. Those two…” he casts a glance towards Declan and TJ; one climbing the ‘rock wall’ that had been created a year ago and the other slithering his way up the rope that dangles from the ceiling. “...can be damn noisy.”

“Just a bit,” Tanner agrees.

“What’cha doing?”

“Just writing a bit,” Tanner holds up the leather bound journal -one of many he’s owned and are already full and packed away in a locked box in the back of his closet back home- he’d been scrawling in. Some are used to document his daily life; passages about his struggle being ‘different’ and his brain not working like everyone else’s, others gushing about something fun and exciting he’d gotten to take part in. “I had some really cool dreams while you were gone. That’s what I’m writing about. Will you read them?”

“I always do, don’t I?” He’s in fact the only one who DOES get to read what Tanner writes. Tanner trusting him wholly and completely and enjoying the fact they have a ‘secret’.

“I’ll bring it with me tomorrow. So you can see it. We’re still going right?”

“It’s our thing, right? Always what we do. Breakfast and time out. Just the two of us.”

“It’s a bit different this year. It’s always been the first morning after we get here. But you didn’t come with us this time.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that. That I had to go and take care of himself. We still buddies?”

“Best buddies. I know you couldn’t help it. That you HAD to go. I’m just glad you’re back. I miss you when you’re gone. Do you have to go away again?”

“Not for a very long time. If ever. I’ll do my best, okay? To not have to go away again.”

“Okay. I’m excited. About tomorrow.”

“Me too, Nug. You need anything? You got your snuggies?”

“I’ve got them all here.” He nods down at the array of stuffed animals arranged at his feet.

“Blankie?”

Tanner holds up the corner of the weighted blanket already stretched out over top of him.

“You’re getting good at this. You won’t need me to check on you much longer.”

“Yes I will. I like when you check on me and we chat. Makes me feel special.”

“You ARE special. Very special. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Take your meds?”

“Mummy made sure. I’m not sleepy yet though. I’m going to write some more. So you have lots to read tomorrow. Don’t forget your glasses.”

Tyler grins. “Your mom is rubbing off on you.”

“You need them to read. And to go on the computer. And you probably should wear them when you’re on your phone too. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Speaking off glasses, make sure you take yours off BEFORE you fall asleep.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re even starting to SOUND like your mother. You in the mood for a hug?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically. “Yup.”

Leaning down, he curls an arm around the ten year old’s slender frame just as two arms encircle his neck. It’s best to never push anything on Tanner; let him call the shots even when it comes to something as simple as affection. “Love you, Nug.”

“Love you too, daddy. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So I am. You sleep good okay? I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll go to our same place.”

“I can’t wait! They’re pancakes are the BEST. Well, not as good as yours and those ones mummy makes with the chocolate chips. But still really good. Will you give mummy another hug and kiss from me? I don’t think I hugged her long enough. And she deserves a long hug and an extra kiss. She had a bad day.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And tell her I love her? To the moon and back?”

“I will tell her that. And she loves you too. She loves you so much.”

“I know. She doesn’t even have to say it. It’s all the things she does for me. Making sure I have my meds and double checking to make sure I brought all my favourite snuggies and that I always have enough pens for writing. And it’s when she smiles at me and calls me ‘Nugget’ and she plays with my hair when we snuggle. I know mummy loves me. She doesn’t make it a secret.”

“She’s loved you right from the start. When you were just a little bean in her tummy. You sleep good, alright? Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.” Tanner gives his dad’s neck one last squeeze. “I love you, daddy. See you later alligator.”

Grinning, he lightly tousels Tanner’s hair. “In a while crocodile.”

*****

Millie answers on the second knock; a terse ‘come in’. She’s been moody and towing a very thin line since she emerged from her room at dinner time. Snapping at her younger siblings and calling them ‘stupid’ and ‘annoying’ if they so as much asked her to pass them something; rolling her eyes whenever her mother spoke to her or just flat out ignoring her altogether. Eventually Tyler had had enough. What should have been a happy return home and getting to have dinner with his family after five days away turned into a screaming match; him ordering Millie up to her room with her dinner and her accusing him of hating her and always taking everyone’s side when ganging up on her. What used to be easily managed behaviour when she was six has become increasingly difficult to put up with; her attitude and her mouth almost unbearable. And she’s come to realize that those big blue eyes and that pout don’t immediately cause daddy to cave; he no longer buckles to the faux remorse or the feelings of guilt he’d get whenever he’d raise his face or scold her.

He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest; his daughter avoiding all eye contact as she silks in the middle of her bed. “What’s up your ass?”

“What’s up yours?”

Tyler scowls. “Excuse me? You did not say what I think you just said.”

Millie chews nervously on her bottom lip. A habit she’d inherited from her mother. “Sorry.”

“What is going on with you? You’ve been acting like an asshole for four days. Don’t even try and deny it. You really thought I wouldn’t find out? You have six brothers and sisters. You really think they wouldn’t talk? You really thought you could tell Addie and Brookie you’d kill them in their sleep if they told me?”

“I knew they’d rat on me. And I knew SHE’D rat on me.”

“Who is she? And you better not say your mother. I know you’re not talking about her like that. Especially to me.”

“You always take HER side. Always. You used to on my side. Now you’re kissing her butt and…”

“Okay, first of all…” He leaves the door open as he stalks into the room; keeping his temper in check as he stands at the foot of the bed. “...SHE has a name. And to you, it’s mum. You don’t talk about your mother like that. Especially to me. Second, check your tone. You don’t talk to me like that. Ever. Got it?”

Millie nods.

“What the fuck, Amelia? I leave for four days and THIS is how you behave? Didn’t I warn you BEFORE I left? About treating your mother right? Did I not tell you I better not find out you were mouthy and disrespectful to her? I’m pretty sure I did.”

“You did.”

“You don’t talk to your mother like that. You don’t treat her like that. She doesn’t deserve it. Do you know what she went through to even have you? Do you know how close she came to not ever knowing about you? She gave up her entire life for you. She has loved you from the minute she found out she was having you. Do you know how lucky you are to even have a mother? Never mind one that loves you as much as she does? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. It’s her! It’s all her!”

“I know your mum isn’t perfect. She’s the first to admit it. But I also know you’re full of shit. What has she done? What has she done that’s so bad that you think you can treat her like you are? Give me an example. One thing that is so bad.”

Millie shrugs.

“You’re going to knock your shit off. And not just for a couple days either. You’re going to apologize to your mum and you’re going to mean it. And you’re going to start helping her out and you’re NOT going to ruin Christmas for her or your brothers and sisters. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but until you can talk about it calmly and rationally, I don’t want to hear it. Got it?”

She nods.

“And by the way, that Aaron called back. Only this time I talked to him.”

Millie’s eyes widen.

“Imagine how surprised I was to find out he’s sixteen. And imagine his surprise when I told him you were only eleven. For some reason, he thought you were fourteen. Is there a reason he thought that?”

“No.”

“You want to try again?”

“I told him I was fourteen. Because he’s really cute and I wanted him to call me.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be calling back. Because I told him if he ever called again, he’d regret ever getting your number. That if he ever came near my daughter...my ELEVEN year old daughter...I’d beat his ass into the middle of next week. Then I’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass and drop his corpse on his mother’s doorstep.”

Tears of both anger and despair well in her eyes. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re eleven. And no sixteen year old should be calling an eleven year old. What the hell is wrong with you? How’d you think you’d get away with that? Giving OUR number to a boy? What the hell, Amelia?”

“Why do you and mom want to ruin my life?”

“We’re your parents and we are trying to protect you. Do you not know what could have happened to you? Talking to this guy? What if he’d wanted to see you? You know we wouldn’t have let you. What were you going to do? Sneak out of the house?”

“I don’t know…”

“Say you did. And say this guy decided to take advantage of you. What then? What would you have done then?”

She shrugs.

“We’re not trying to ruin your life. We’re trying to keep you safe and sound. We’re trying to keep you alive. Sixteen? Really? Nothing good was going to come of that and you know it. You need to smarten up, Monkey. You need to get your head out of your ass and stop treating your mum like shit. And stop terrorizing Kota. You know he takes everything seriously. Now he doesn’t want to sit on the toilet.”

“It was a joke. He doesn’t have to be such a baby about everything.”

“He’s FIVE. He practically IS a baby. If you don’t have anything to say to him, don’t say anything at all. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m being serious, Amelia. You need to check that attitude of yours. And that mouth. Don’t talk to your mother the way you do. Don’t disrespect her. I’ve told you tons of times; no one disrespects my wife. That includes my own kids. Knock it off. Now. You better wake up tomorrow an entirely different person. Because I’m not going to put up with it. Understand me?”

“I understand.”

Journeying around to the side of the bed, he runs a palm over her hair and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Regardless of what you think about me right now, I love you.”

“I love you, dad. And I’m sorry. About everything. Especially about that boy.”

“You’re smarter than that. WAY smarter than that. Can we at least try to have a good Christmas? Think you can do that? Make it a pleasant one for everyone? Especially for yourself?”

She nods.

“I DO love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will. Just...I don’t know...stop being such a shit. Stop being so…”

She grins up at him. “So you?”

“That sounds like your mother talking.”

‘Well, she IS really smart.”

“Be nice to her, okay? Because that is the love of my life. The mother of my kids. And no one treats her like that. She loves you. Don’t ever forget that. And I know you love her.”

“I do. I do love her.”

“Well why don’t you try telling her THAT once in a while? Because she’d rather hear that , than you saying you hate her. Get her some slack. She’s got a lot on her plate. And she’s trying really damn hard. If you’re still hungry, there’s leftovers in the fridge. And lots of ice cream. Candy cane crackle. Your favourite. It’s in the freezer in the basement. Don’t tell your mum I told her.”

Millie smiles. “Our little secret?”

“Our little secret.”

“I missed you, daddy. I was angry. That you left. You said you wouldn’t leave again. That there’d be no reason to. That once you became a boss, you wouldn’t have to.”

“I’ve left before. I’ve been gone a few times.”

“A few times in FIVE years. And this is the second time this year alone. And you promised. That you wouldn’t do that anymore. Go after bad people. You PROMISED.”

“I know. I know I did.”

“What if something happened? What if you really DID die this time? What then? It would just be us. Seven kids and mum. And that’s not fair. Especially to mum. She loves us, but she loves YOU too. And she shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

‘“You’re right. She shouldn't.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Is that what this is about? The way you’ve been behaving? Me being gone?”

“Some of it, I guess. I was mad. At you. But I missed you at the same time. You told us you’d never go back to it again; going after bad people. You said you were done with that. You promised mom. That you’d stay home.”

“And I have been. Staying home. It’s nothing like it was before.”

“But it still hurts her. Whether it’s once or twice a year. It still bugs her. Because she loves you and she’s worried about you. Why would you promise her stuff and then turn around and do the total opposite it? Why would you promise us stuff and not stick to it?”

“It needed to be done. Anil asked me to help out. He needed me.”

“WE need you. Mum needs you. Can’t he get someone else? He can find someone else. Mum can’t find another husband. We can’t find another dad. It would hurt us a lot more to lose you than it would hurt Anil.”

“I know it would. And I’m sorry. For leaving. If there was someone else or another way…”

“I don’t want you going away.” The tears finally come; large, hot tears that spill down tanned cheeks. “I don’t want you going away and dying. I don’t want to lose you. You’re my dad. I don’t want another dad.”

“Come here, Monkey. It’s okay. Come here.”

Tossing off the blankets, Millie scrambles out of bed; perching herself sideways on his lap and wrapping both arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Millie.” He hasn’t used the nickname in over a year. At least not in her presence. Ever since his then ten year old daughter announced she was finished with it and just wanted to use her full name. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to break my promise. And I’m sorry. That I did. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, daddy. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her temple; hand pressing down on the back of her head and drawing it down to his shoulder. Tightly holding her as she cries; letting her release all the tears and the pent up fear and worry and anger. Allowing her to cling to him; her sobbing turning into whimpers interspersed with loud sniffles.

Tightly and protectively holding her until body stills and her breathing slows and evens out. Not having the heart to let her go even long after she’s fallen asleep.

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

[loudlypanickinginvenezolano]

[WIP] Dolled up. (I think.) Half of first chapter.

TW: Violence (They are figthing.) Dealing with injuries. Wounds. Blood. No medical experience so, all of this could be very well absolutely wrong and very worthy of cringe. Mention of death. Body horror? I think? There is a very ugly looking monster. And I wrote how I imagined them to look, so... 

The blackened earth was smoking, the greyish thing going high to the darkened sky. Rubble was everywhere, disaster and chaos claiming what once seemed to be a very calm forest. Animals carcass lithered the burned ground, and Shadow worried for a while that maybe there wasn’t going to be anything growing in a very long time, and seeing how far the damage extended, it really was concerning.

Or, maybe not.

Strange things happening in Mobius was something Shadow was becoming used to. Things that should not happen were the normal here. People, Mobians and Humans for equal, had learned to stop questioning the around.

If it wasn’t something dangerous, then let it be.

He still hadn’t get the hang of it. But.

Well.

He gazed softly at the half burned bunnies and half dead squirrels (and that one bear.) praying softly in a low voice for them and the destroyed natural bunch of flowers and grass that were...well, everywhere. The smell of burning wood and fallen trees marked the path for him to walk, were the fight sounds have already subsided. Looking over himself, and deciding that he wasn’t that bad as if for not being able to continue, he quickly stood up, shaking softly as he ran to get rid of annoying dirt, fallen quills, hairs, rocks, and well, dried (And not so dried.) blood.

He just hoped he wasn’t going to find bugs crawling on him later on.

What remained of the big bio mechanical beast he and his companion had been battling was on the ground. All three of them had fallen at great heights, a stronger that he expected punch with long claws making him slip and fall before they stopped. It had hurt, a lot, more because they had been battling for quite the while, and he got the hit directly in already bruised areas. He had been dizzy, and unable to stand up or answer Sonic scream asking if he was okay.

There may be a few broken bones or strained, sprained muscles. A few burned patches, no doubt. Scratch’s, cuts, and bruises that were going to get swollen and hurt like a bitch.

He didn’t think there was internal bleeding? But maybe it was too soon to say?

Sticks broke under his skates, flowers and thick logs that have been throw around as spectators of the battle. The beast laid unmoving, debris all around. He could see a destroyed house not very far, an un-salvable fence and what could be a garden. He could hear some animals screaming near, and the desperate chirping of new baby birds whose parents had fled during the altercate.  

Feeling guilty, he made a mental note to try and search for them, see who could be saved and what needed to be put out of its misery.

— Shadow! — He heard Sonic screech, and quickly wiped around, trying to find from where the blue menace was screaming. He didn`t find him, but he, however, was found indeed.

Just that not by a very tired looking blue cute hedgehog, but by a miserable looking thing that tried to call itself a cyborg. The beast, no doubt an hybrid made in an experimental laboratory seemed to have lost itself in pain, and its feral stare cut sharply to unfocused hazy red eyes.

Fuck.

He dodged the attack with a pant, his body complaining at the every move. It seemed it had finally snapped, as it didn’t mind anymore the pain it felt. It barely growled at him when with a good punch, he managed to take off one of its various mechanical arms.

There was nothing under it, and the view evidently made Shadow feel very uneasy and uncomfortable, because at least there, there should be something. Uneasy enough to make him falter just a bit, and almost get his nose bitten. He got it licked, though.

Was he being mocked?

Was he a joke to Cyborg-thingy?

Falling down hard on his already hurting tail, he barely reacted in time to block its big maw with his skates, clawed hands digging on the soil beneath him as if to not get pushed around. He flexioned, bringing his knees to his chest in the most unexpected moment, making it lose balance for a second.

The second he needed to yank and make it fall forward hard, almost flying over his head.

Shadow felt like screaming, the agony on his body and that twist he did that pulled hard on already sensitive muscles was a lot to deal with, more with his old, still healing, wounds. He lifted his head from the ground, trying to look out for Sonic, wondering where the fuck was his ally. He found him battling with those annoying smoll winged beasts a good few meters apart from where he was, smile all but gone and seriously attacking those bitches.

He made a face, because Shadow barely could fight them without getting nightmares or feeling shivers running down his spine, not that, well, anyone knew. Those things creeped him out. Like. Really. Maybe it was how crazy their eyes looked? How...red? The scars and metal plates peppered over their bodies? The scary looking stiches on mismatched skin? The dark-feeling chaos energy they had?

His stomach lurched just thinking about them.

— Disgusting. — He muttered. They really made him nervous and tense.

"When something was so annoying, it was almost pleasant seeing them disappear or die." It just...He couldn’t get that feeling completely when battling them. Even so.

Erm.

Mh, Wasn`t Sonic being a tad too much on them? He seemed almost...angry?

Maybe he should follow his example. He just needed...5 more seconds. You know. Catch his breath. Swallow back his liver. Pray it goes to where it belong.

Cry?

The usual.

A loud creaking noise made him open his eyes abruptly, and he looked back at his own beast.

Did this dude didn’t know when to give up?

Or how to die?

He rolled out of the way, avoiding a tree being send flying his way. It crashed, hard, close the chaotic house.

Shadow could barely spare it a thought, though. Not when it sprinted towards Sonic, apparently deciding that Shadow was too much of a rough cookie and needed to try his luck somewhere else.

— Nope! — He muttered, standing up as well with a big effort. — Idiot! Wa-Watch out! — He screamed to his distracted rival. Or tried to. He could barely talk. He was becoming dizzy once again.

This was. Concerning. Had he got his head--? Forget it. Of course he did.

Skating the distance between them, he outran the beast, breathing hard, and started trying to attack it, or distract it. He stabbed, punched, pulled, heck, even gave a bite, but the thing ignored him, as if Shadow were nothing but a mere bug. Sonic had long noticed them, but the flying things didn’t left him a chance to go away. They clipped his skin, and avoided his spins. Didn’t reacted to his quills, and clawed at him, don’t letting him leave.

They were so many, it almost looked like a private tornado. Every time Sonic got one down, two more would pop out of nowhere and take its place. They were flying around him, circling, going high and then diving in attack. In made it hard to see Sonic.

Clinging hard to a bit of fur, Shadow managed to climb it. It started to pay him more attention, but didn’t change his direction, adamant in attacking Sonic. Unsteadily, he made his way and managed to make a deep cut on its neck. Digging his claws, he tried to break it. Make it quickly, and stop its pain.

Just end it. Give it peace.

The beast let out a big roar, and his shaking almost threw him at the ground before honestly scared green eyes. A few flying things started to attack him, making it harder to stay put. He really didn’t know if the blood he was seeing mating the beast fur was his, its, or from them.

Because he was kicking their asses as well, yes sir.

He squeezed harder, and the beast tripped and twisted with a yowl. Shadow had to jump before he got crushed beneath it, tackling Sonic on his way, as well, getting both of them out of the way of the beast by rolling on the ground…and well… rocks and branches.

One word.

Ouch.

No good. Really.

No good.

The winged ones flew all around them, in a very messy and menacing mayhem. A lot of them were surrounding The beast, clinging and... Were they taking off with it?

Their wings were beating them, flashes of green, brown, red, metal grey and blue all around. Even the sky above was darkened because of them. They clipped Sonic hands, arms, face, Shadows ears, back. Their screeching was disorienting, painful on sensitive hedgehog hearing.

This time it was Shadow who got pushed to the ground, his whines of agony washed out for all the noise, Sonic rolling them out of the way of a big, big, Winged One. He got a nasty cut (With a sting powerful enough to steal a high yelp of pain) on his side thanks to it, and a push forceful enough to throw him off Shadow and make them roll a bit. Two of them flew way to low, making both of them duck their heads and, in consequence, leaving them unable to see the next attack before too late.

Sharp claws pierced the skin on Shadow back, making him actually scream thanks to the excruciating pain and scaring the ever loving shit out of Sonic, who immediately reached out. Shadow clung to Sonic arms when his body was lifted from the ground. Sonic yelped as well, panic flowing through his body and mind as his upper part was lifted too and couldn’t find purchase with his shoes for 2 petrifying seconds. They weren’t taking Shadow from him.

They couldn’t.

Sonic refused. ___ Hi? Im sorry if this seems like too much, but im proud of how this is coming out, so ! Yes. I just dont know if I should publish only Tumblr. 

#that thing about people deciding in writing during quarantine? Yes. Basically #quarantine fic #Sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #Sonadow #Just not yet #Sonic is actually pining hard #Tropes #anger born out of worry #my writing

[dearophelia]

gonna set your flag on fire - chapter 07

Thirty years after the war, things are as close to normal as they’ll get. Garrus is the turian councilor and Olivia runs Galactic Affairs, helping the galaxy rebuild. They’ve happily settled into the life they’ve built. Their kids are grown, and out living their own lives.

But something goes wrong on Nora’s latest mission. Very wrong.

chapter 07: what you call home is a box of memories

In which shit very much hits the fan. [read on AO3]

(thank you, as always, to @tarysande and @nightingaleseeking for endless cheerleading and support)

Charlotte Turner - Scientific Log - 3 March 2190.

Subject Rho remains stable. Aptitude tests (see attached results) show considerable promise, and subject seems likely to continue on the same trajectory. Subject is vulnerable to suggestion and wants to please her testers. Once her brain has developed enough to activate Damocles permanently, Subject Rho should be a perfect candidate for long-term programming. Estimations put the earliest Control trigger point at age 21.

While the team and I are hesitant to label this variant of Damocles an unparalleled success, it is most certainly a more viable prototype than all previous models. Experiment repetition determines true success. Subject Sigma is being prepared for pre-op beginning 0800 tomorrow.

Recommendation: provided she passes the next battery of physical tests, Subject Rho is ready for return to her parents on Rayngiri Station to begin integration and programming. For ease of assimilation, Subject Rho should be referred to in all reports from this point forward as Nora.

End log.  

***

Nora wakes up as two guards drag her down the hallway. It’s loud inside her head. Crowded. Chaotic. Like there’s another voice trying to be heard, but it hasn’t figured out how to speak yet, only scream.

Her body feels too heavy and her head feels too light as she tries to get her feet steady underneath her. A dull pain thuds behind her eyes, and the hallway doubles and slants sideways.

She stumbles over her feet as they turn into the cell block and falls when the guards push her back into the cell with Rachel. Pain blooms behind her knees as she slams into the freezing concrete. Shivers start deep in her chest and she crawls away from the force field into a corner.

“Nora?” Rachel asks quietly once the guards are gone.  

Nora thrusts out one shaking hand, keeping Rachel at an arm’s length away. She could certainly use a medic, but the second voice scratches at the inside of her head, trying to find its way out. Focusing only on her breathing, and not the way her head spins or how every muscle throbs or the darkness pushing at the edges of her vision, she slowly turns and sits. She presses herself up against the corner, as far away from her teammates as she can get. A few minutes pass before she trusts that it will be her own voice when she speaks.

“The chip’s active,” Nora whispers hoarsely, staring at the concrete floor. Her vision swims again. She leans her head back against the wall and takes three deep, controlled breaths. She desperately wants to take a moment and let those three words sink in, but the other voice scrabbles at the walls of her skull.

“It showed up on the scan, and they brought someone else in, and,” the dull, wordless voice expands inside her head, beginning to push her own voice aside. She bites down hard, grinding her teeth together, and pushes back. “I don’t know, she had an assistant and he did something, and it was like someone stabbed me in the head. And now there’s this other…voice.” She gestures at the air beside her head, as if they could see the noise as clearly as she can hear it.

“Why’d they send you back?” Carlos asks.

Nora abruptly opens her eyes and looks up at him. Spots dance across her vision in the bright light. She very carefully avoids looking at anyone else. “I don’t know,” she says. It’s a very good question, and if roles were reversed, they certainly wouldn’t send her back unless…a thought crosses her mind. Nora thinks – hopes – that it’s her own. “Knock me out. Now.”

“Nora…” Alle says gently from her cell across the hall.

She forces herself to look at Alle, her best friend since they were fifteen. Alle bites her lip and looks like she’s about to cry. I’m sorry, Nora wants to say. You’re the reason I made it through high school and now I’m the reason you’re probably going to die here. I’m sorry.

“She’s right,” Jonah says. “If the chip’s active, they would’ve kept her away from us unless there’s something they wanted.”

Nora finally sits up straight and looks at all of them. She had no business going on this mission and they all knew it, but they all followed her here anyway.

“Montgomery,” Micah says,” right here,” he points to a pulse point under his jaw. “Just a little pressure. It won’t hurt and she’ll go right out.”

Nora manages to smile at him. Always calm, always centered, always her steady rock, even in the middle of this mission that’s gone as completely sideways as it could.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel says to her. She gestures to Nora’s jaw and looks to Micah for confirmation. He nods.

“It’s okay,” Nora says. None of this is okay, and maybe it never will be again, but she’s a liability they need to take out of the equation. “Just do it. Please.” Her breath stutters when she inhales, and she doesn’t look at Alle.

I’m so sorry.

***

Alle watches, helpless, as Rachel hits the spot Micah pointed to and Nora crumples to the ground. Rachel waves her hand over Nora’s face, snaps her fingers, even claps her hands loudly right next to Nora’s ear, all to no response. Out like a light, just like Micah promised. At least it was quick and easy.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Nora’s her best friend, but right now she’s a liability. They’re soldiers, they’ve trained for this.

Well. Not this. No one could ever train for this. But they’ve trained for compartmentalizing, for dissociating from their emotions until there’s time for it, for focusing on the mission and the mission only. Three deep breaths – good air in, bad air out – and Alle opens her eyes.

Jonah’s popping the latches on his boot.

“Seriously?”

He stretches his neck to one side and then the other, cracking his neck, but Alle well knows that trick. She’s used it herself countless times as a discrete way of checking security cameras. “Move,” he whispers, not moving his mouth.

Alle blinks at him. They’re locked in a 9x9 cell. There’s nowhere to move. She’s on the verge of saying so when he gives her a slight shake of his head.

“Between me and the cameras,” he says. It’s eerie hearing him speak without his lips moving. “Look natural.”

“No one in the history of that phrase has ever looked natural,” she mutters, but gets to her feet. She dusts off her palms on her pants and walks to the front of the cell, just beside the force field. She cracks her neck, pulling the same maneuver as Jonah, and then stretches out her arms as she looks across the hall. Nora’s cell is diagonally across and at a bad angle, but she can make out her friend lying on the floor. Rachel’s put her folded-up sweatshirt underneath Nora’s head and is kneeling beside her. She holds two fingers to Nora’s wrist and looks at her watch.

“How is she?” Alle asks softly, once Rachel sets Nora’s arm across her stomach.

“Her vitals are okay, but I can’t tell what the chip’s doing without a scanner,” she whispers without moving her lips, just like Jonah.

Alle wonders whether Jonah had his entire team take ventriloquism lessons. And whether that might not be a bad idea for Chimera once they get out of this mess.

“What’s the number on those cameras?” Jonah asks, still a whisper.

Alle tries to surreptitiously squint at the camera, but it’s Micah who answers.

“ERC 5B,” he says.

“Good,” Jonah says, in a normal voice this time. “The Elanus B models don’t have audio.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Carlos asks.

Jonah stares at the solid wall separating their two cells, as if he could stare straight through the concrete at Carlos. “Asks the man who gave us a lecture on bears on the way here.”

There’s a brief pause. “Carry on.”

“Anyway,” Jonah says, “we should avoid talking directly into the camera in case someone on staff can lip read, but we should be okay to talk.”

Alle tears her focus away from her unconscious friend to look over her shoulder at him. She raises her eyebrow: he has his boot off now and frowns as he tries to pry something off the side of the sole. A compartment pops open. “Okay, what are you doing?”

He turns his boot so the open compartment faces down, gives the boot a solid tap, and a small omnitool falls into his lap. He holds it up, careful to keep it in her shadow.

Alle blinks. “You keep a spare omnitool in your boot?”

“You don’t?”

“Well, now I will.” Under the guise of stretching, mindful of Jonah’s warning, she turns back to the others. “Wu has an omnitool,” she tells the others as she bends over, palming the floor. Better Cerberus get a nice view of her ass than see the word omnitool on her lips.

“I can piggyback onto their outgoing signal, but it’ll probably only work once,” he says. “Votes on what to say?”

“Mission FUBARed,” Carlos suggests. “Short and sweet.”

Jonah sighs, and Alle bites back a grin at the flash of irritation that crosses his face. She shifts position, careful to keep the bulk of her body in front of the camera.

“While accurate,” Jonah says, “I think any potential help would appreciate a little more intel than ‘FUBAR.’”

“Mission FUBAR,” Micah repeats the headline. “Team captured, AA guns online, Vakarian compromised.” He pauses. “Vega will know what that means, but Cerberus won’t know that we know about the chip.”

Rachel looks down at Nora. “I think that ship has sailed.”

“We have to take the risk,” Jonah says. “Any rescue team needs to know what they’re walking into.” He starts to type the message.

“Uhm,” Alle says, stretching her legs back behind her into a downward-facing dog. “Just a thought, and I don’t know what kind of rock these guys might be living under, but maybe we don’t risk letting Cerberus know they have the turian councilor’s daughter? Call her Nora.” She sighs as her calves start to release their tension; she sat on the concrete floor too long.

“Good call,” the other three say in unison as Jonah changes the message.

A few minutes of silence pass while Jonah encrypts the message. “Okay,” he says. “Sent.” He slips the omnitool back into his boot and puts it on again. Alle stands back up straight and blinks away a light wave of vertigo.

“And now we wait,” Carlos says.

“And now we wait,” Rachel echoes.

Alle sits down at the front of the cell and sighs. Nora doesn’t move.

***

“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Nora says, as much for her own sake as her mother’s. “I have meds, and Quentus is on call if I need a lunch buddy.”

Mom nods. “If you need anything…”

“I will call you,” she promises. Her heart starts to pound, but she has to go in. She can’t stand here in the school office forever. Good air in, bad air out.

Mom pulls her into a close hug. “I love you,” she whispers, and kisses her cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Nora hugs her tightly. “Love you too.” Before she loses her nerve entirely and begs for her mom to just let her take classes online for the rest of high school, she lets go and steps into the small inner room.

Five other transfer students sit at various desks around the room: three humans she doesn’t recognize, the son of the turian ambassador (she gives him a little wave, and he nods in return), and a drell she’s seen around at various parties. She takes a seat near the back; not too far to be in the back, but far enough away from the front and behind everyone, so she can see them all. No chance of them whispering behind her back. With a sharp breath, she settles into the hard chair and pulls her tablet from her backpack.

As the bell rings, another student runs in through the door, frozen coffee in hand, sneaking in right in front of the assistant dean. She sits down two seats away from Nor and affects a posture that looks like she was sitting there the whole time.

The assistant dean clears his throat in clear disapproval, the girl bites back a smile, and he begins introductions and orientation.

As soon as the bell rings, announcing lunch, Nora slips out and starts to text Quentus to see if he can meet her at the smoothie place down the street. Hearing her name, Nora turns around and sees Alle dropping her empty cup into a matter recycler and then rushing catching up with her.

“Want to grab lunch?” Alle asks, squinting in the fake Citadel sun as they walk outside.

Nora smiles. “Yeah, sure.” She quickly changes her text.

NV: I’ve got lunch covered QV: did you make a friend? NV: okay I know that’s supposed be genuine but you just sound like a dick QV: noted NV: and maybe QV: still want me to meet you after school? NV: yes please QV: i’ll have coffee. enjoy lunch with your maybe-friend!

She closes her messaging app and follows Alle down the street and around the corner, into an unassuming alley that smells delicious. Food stalls of all cuisines from all species line the walls, leaving only a small, crowded space to navigate down the street.

“Wow,” she says. The Presidium is huge, she could never hope to see all of it, but she thought she’d found all the cool lunch spots.

“Yeah. My roommate at Gagarin Prep went to CLA for a bit, told me about this place. Meet you on the other side in ten minutes?”

Nora nods and goes off in search of lunch. As tempting as that oorlak smells, she doubts they can make it levo for her like Dad can at home, so she passes the stall and keeps walking. She wanders the aisle and eventually settles on an asari fruit salad with grilled tofu.

On her way to the other end, she spies a familiar logo and makes a quick, unintended stop. “Hi, Lily,” she says to the woman behind the bakery stall.

“Hey, Nora!” Lily grins. “Your grandmother told me you were starting at CLA today.” She slides a sprinkled sugar cookie into a bag and hands it over to Nora.

Nora reaches for it, then hesitates. “Can I have two? I’m meeting someone.”

“Sure.” Lily puts another cookie in the bag. “Hannah’s here on Tuesdays, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Nora says, smiling widely. She puts the cookie bag into her backpack. She sees her grandmother regularly but knowing she could find her here during the week if she needed is nice. “I’ll see you later,” she says, waving as she heads off to the end to meet Alle.

She checks her watch as she exits the chaos - eleven minutes. Alle isn’t there. And for thirty horrifying seconds, Nora stands there alone.

Adrenaline rushes in, bitter on her tongue, and her breathing grows shallow. She wipes sweaty palms on her pants and tries to bring her rate back to normal through sheer force of will - she can’t possibly be having a panic attack on the very first day of a new school, she can’t, and if she starts on any of the coping methods her therapist gave her, it means she’s definitely having a panic attack.

And she is not having a panic attack.

And then Alle pushes her way out of the crowd. “Sorry! The gyro line was nuts –” she stops suddenly. “Are you okay?”

Nora lets out a slow, controlled breath. “Yeah,” she smiles. “Let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

***

Nora awakens back in the lab, restrained to the chair. It isn’t the slow wakefulness of rising naturally, but the sudden jolt of chemically-induced consciousness. She immediately closes her eyes, feigning continued sleep. Maybe she’ll hear something useful. Whether she has the chance to inform her teammates about any intel is another story, and a problem for later.

“Are you sure about this?” Adam’s voice.

“Of course,” Charlotte says, a little annoyed.

“This wasn’t our intended target.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she says, with a clipped tone that clearly silences any continued argument. “This is better than we could’ve hoped for.”

“How so?” Adam again.

By the small sounds they make as they move around the lab, Nora gathers that they’re the only two in here.

Charlotte scoffs. “Do you really think Shepard and Vakarian aren’t going to turn the galaxy upside down to find their daughter? Our sources think there’s a better than even chance one or both of them will even come in person. It’s why we let her team’s little SOS through.”

Involuntarily, Nora stiffens at the mention of her parents and the trap they’re walking into. She doesn’t know how her team got a message out, but if she’s sent back to the cells, maybe – maybe – they can get a second one out with a warning.

A shadow crosses her face. Nora tries for another few seconds but gives up the act and opens her eyes.

“Of course we know who you are,” Charlotte smiles. It’s meant to be friendly, and Nora sees the ice beneath it. “I do apologize,” she says.

This woman has a lot to apologize for, but Nora suspects the apology isn’t for what she’s hoping. “For what?”

Charlotte draws a stool closer to the bed and sits down. She crosses her legs, primly tugging down the demure skirt. It’s a different outfit than before; Nora wonders how many days have passed. She picks up a tablet from the side table and begins tapping at it.

Nora raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“There’s a scientific explanation,” Charlotte says, turning her attention to a console above Nora’s head, “but it’s a little dull.”

Nora strains her neck backward, trying to catch a glimpse of the console. She’s strapped tight to the table and can’t do anything about the console, not even if there’s a big red control switch, but it feels better than just lying here. The angle’s strange, and the most she’s able to see before Charlotte pushes it over to Adam is an image of a brain with a glowing dot pulsing near the middle. Safe to assume it’s hers. Nora settles against the bed again and tests the restraints one more time, with just as little luck as before.

A slight buzz starts inside her skull, and the dull, incoherent voice from earlier begins to scream again. Both the buzz and the voice are so faint that she probably wouldn’t notice either if she weren’t lying strapped to a table in a quiet lab.

“I’m afraid reprogramming you is going to hurt,” Charlotte says. She looks down at Nora. “This would have been easier for both of us if you’d been with us from the beginning.”

“Somehow, I’m not too upset about that.”

Charlotte gives her a tight smile. “We’ll talk about that in the morning.” She looks over at Adam. “It’s ready. Begin, please.”

The buzzing slams into an earthquake inside her head, and the screams tear through her skull like they’re going to burst her eardrums from the inside out. Nora tries to hang on, tries to fight it and stay awake, but blinding-hot pain consumes her. She struggles against the restraints, trying to curl up in a ball, trying to cover her head, as if that will help at all. The bite of the restraints against her skin hardly registers through the stabbing, splitting, breaking feeling inside her head. Hot tears fall down her cheeks and a voice starts to plead – “Stop, please, stop, please please please, stop,” the voice sobs.

Nora hardly recognizes the hoarse, desperate voice as her own.

“Higher,” Control’s voice cuts through.

And then something snaps, ripping the last please from her throat, and Nora just screams.

***

Nora stares at her hands. The question has been burning at her for days, and now with Quentus out for the night with some friends and Dad stuck at work, she’s alone with Mom. It isn’t that she doesn’t trust her brother or father, but something about her mother has always just been…calm. Comforting.

True.

“Mom?” she calls quietly toward the kitchen. She waits for her to look over. “How do I know this is real?”

Her mother raises an eyebrow, and Nora taps at her head.

“Is that what this is about?” Mom asks gently. She drops a handful of mini marshmallows into both mugs and brings them over to the couch.

Nora takes one mug and waits until Mom’s settled beside her. “No,” she says. “Not really.” And it’s not – it’s about school and friends who suddenly turned their backs. But the chip isn’t helping. It never has. Part of her wishes they’d never told her about it. She knows why they did, and the rest of her does appreciate knowing, but she’s been thinking a lot recently about how everything would be a little bit easier if she didn’t know.

“Talk to me,” Mom says, reaching out to gently tuck Nora’s hair behind her ear, like she used to do when Nora was small and had a head full of curls.

She sips at her hot chocolate. “I used to be able to ignore it,” she says. “But then all that…crap,” she waves her hand with the generalization, wrapping all of her panic and anxiety and stress into one word, “happened, and I couldn’t anymore.” She shrugs. “Like my brain figured it was already freaking out so went ‘why not’ and added the chip onto the pile of bullshit.”

Mom nods and takes a drink of her own hot chocolate. “I’m real,” she says. “You’re real. And this is real.”

“If you were a Cerberus hallucination, you’d say that.”

She smiles a quiet little sad smile. “It’s something your dad said to me,” she says. “And I told him pretty much the same thing.”

Nora laughs softly and takes a sip that’s mostly melted marshmallow.

“But,” she waits until Nora looks back at her. “At some point, you’ve gotta trust something. Otherwise that pit’s pretty deep.”

She thinks about making a joke, about already being way over her head in that particular deep end, but there’s a strange look on Mom’s face. Sad, worried, concerned, and something Nora’s never seen on her mother before – fear. She swallows back the joke.

“Something made you trust me thirteen years ago,” Mom says softly. “Hold onto that. This is real. I promise.”

#wow it's been a minute #s:set your flag #fuck i don't know how i was tagging this i give up y'all

[captainkurosolaire]

Demise... I am...

<“This voyage... It spells of an End. I am a foolish, flawed and overall sinful man, do not mistaken this as my apologies or sincerity, for I cannot wipe away anything I’ve done or take it back nor would those simple words be justifiably allowed to let me off. These should stick to me, ingrain, devour me wholesomely. I brought wrought to those in my waters of haven, I’ve involved to many to give themselves to my cause and affairs... And I’ve failed, every single time. Not once did I win. Or fight solely to capture that by any means. I leave now, to the unknown. To slay a demon who possessed my dearest matey even if I have to give that release personally, I will. My sweat runs rivers, not of fear, but anticipation. I made a vow a promise, t’ not die. Though in honesty, I cannot assure this. If I never hunted those Damned Relics, this would haven’t happened, I wouldn’t have those lives buried and sunken to the depths, tattooed into my inner design. This Lair of a sprawling Devil, will ensure I don’t leave unscathed, though it’ll learn --- The souls inside me, they wish to torment have already done the job of self-destruction.”> A passage was written while extending vocally a monologue in the same simulations, printed to a worn-down stained Captain’s log over-top his desk. Unpacked and several wrapped layers of loose variant astonishing silk was drawn on a scarred up canvas, often this individual didn’t wear anything but himself and a familiarized hat. Though he was shaken to a core, undeserving of holding the mantle of the Captain until he properly slew the demons and plagues that he tried drowning out through feverish one night stands to get by or the thicket of a brew, giving replacement to dealings. A recently engraved Sigil was inked to a chiseled frame right above his left-pectoral which was carefully wrapped to layers subtly behind his chosen appendages. Its properties enhanced the wielder and gave them a more even playing field against the atrocities that awaited in the stain of darkness. He sat on the edge of a reflected bedside and drew a set of wrapped field dressing around his fists in combination. Every delicately wearing apparel was in preparation, a trip to the Unknown..

Removing his family heirloom compass coated and imbued with the last extracted increments of Kahzoo’s own essence to pin-point and confuse the transportation he was seeking to hit certain homing coordinates.Delving through a portal through the making of his fellow Voidal Peers for a usage. He dropped from nasty lilac textured stormy clouds and fell in a hard dropping thud. “Ow.” He silently left before standing up and draping off his dust. A long pause followed as he observed. “Wow... whole lot of nothing. No wonder they invade us. This place is more depressing then last time..” Breathless how a place could exist with nearly nothing of extensive value. He brazenly shrugged off before shouting loudly throughout the whole realm, “HEY, Dumbass! KAHZOO, Get yer sorry-excuse for an ass out here! I..., just want to talk...”  He shouted attentively with little braved concerns on who or what may be waiting to call in answer... Fumblingly lower off breath with mumbles, <Firstly though..., I need to wrangle a noose around the throat before I banish ye once and for all.> More silence broke....

Before, ~ “You came here searching to slay someone certain... But you only found your deathly demise, inferior.“ Feet of a charred black landed with three separations in sharp nailed toes like talons. Immensity of gloom settled in with a rising shift in aetherial pressure, it whirled chaotically and stung like a chain of administered whips. A thick blanketed of dark fog... or a cloud. Hung around its upper body swirling like a shroud of finery. The pitch of the screaming eeriness that cultivated fear that boiled goosebumps and chills, bred formation. As it’s tongue rolled from a putrid poisonous mouth holding more unsavory words that tone enough shattered the carriers of hearts in control. “You called a brother of mine...You must be the one so highly mentioned in spiteful complaints... A failure Captain who led his crew astray that allowed not only his dearest and only other remaining tatted brethren to his painful demise, you abandoned him and allowed him to be consumed by us. Giving my own brother a new suit of flesh, oh how, I like humanity.” It drew manically laughter to the crag-spires in underline vibrations. “Humanity. A storied flaw of what is between us. I hold little, you hide yours but overall hiding doesn’t abandon them. It’s why you’re weak, helpless. Emotions eat and fester attached to your hearts take you to travels out of stupid blind passion. But commonly, its their end they walk on. A grave they dig for chasing vengeance, ambitions, things too lofty for humane hand’s to wrap around, they’re too feeble.” A flex of this unidentifiable demon crackled its bones wickedly through its inner palms as it licked to attempt provoking uneasiness, before its targeted prey in the pirate opposing him. Jaded eyes seething of devouring, that only could be described otherworldly peered through the vapor.

The smug Seeker who typically should be blown away but was warded to the sinister tricks of the Voidkin currently. “My, my. You don’t shut up do ye lad? Humanity, this, humanity that..  News flash, I don’t hide mine. Why else do you think I’ve survived this long pencil dick? I’m flawed written on a blighted canvas! -- This place... Leviathan, it’s cozy to me even though aesthetically you’ve no talent for decor. Can say I feel at home. Cause like you, and you’ll learn if you listened to those whimpering moans of yer brother Kahzoo, I am a monster too. One who eats sins up like another pass-time. I don’t really give a shaded chub for the majority of the reasons, I am brought here. A hunt of those Relics, I obtained all those Summers ago, has brought me here to provide release of yer own unpleasant brother to one way or another for the benefit of mine... I’ll set him free, It’s my obligation and coded in my own set guidelines!” Pointing outwardly and show a symptom of no regard of what stood before him or where exactly they were in. “Fool, fool, FOOL... I feel like that is something you’ve been told. ~ Yes...” The overwhelming foul beast drew an arm up and closed its silted eyes..  Scanning for the heaviest memories and recent sorrowfulness affairs to stir pots. “You were told under crying beloved tears not to venture here. To not be so... densely stupid. Yet, here I find you. Avoiding their words? Ha, I would curse you of misery but it already awaits even without a guide of my touch. Ahhh, but there is more... You left a crew alone, You left behind without taking care of someone who holds yer heart closely and ever devotedly unwavering you have given them the keys of your inner-world but you cast ruination on all they hold precious attached to those sleeves out of this stubborn notion, you’ll prevail here. That what you sought would be claimed and answered... I even think you, -think you’ll honestly win. -- That won’t be a scenario. Here you’re in my Lair. I am infinite, I am eternal, unwavering, no ripple you make can shake me.” An unholy blasphemer quips further to regulate dread throughout a poorly designed creation in accused mortal. Nearly falling asleep while standing up from the sheer boredom and passing out a yawn as he was attempted to be riled, finally snapping back and eye-rolling, he’d shake his head playfully as the pirate launched to a springing jump and kicked in velocity his loosely worn studded leather-boots that pulled pins hung to his toes that detonated at a few second delay. A huge random holy explosion caught against the opposing demon developing him in a bright flash and hearing a screeching in frustration.

Landing back with light-steps. “You didn’t want to keep the mouth-flaps locked, I chose to do you the favor, I typically save the whole gags for another encounter of pleasure, but this was on the house.”  As the crags debris and rubble all scattered and picked up a dust cloud. In the silhouette a bridle of crowned tentacles squirmed over head half of the opposing demon’s face was entirely obliterated off.  As he was gargling against his own saliva the cloud that wore around started to draw into the exposed injury and rejuvenate at an accelerating rate. Tension drew in and instinctively a meteor formed above the Seeker to dodge from the heat in combination with a secondary hand of the purest of darkness etched into its violently purple complexion. A set of beams followed in tracking suite as the pirate started nimbly putting every bit of his athletically heritage running tantrum to the finesse placed on alert test to juke and dodge as many as possible. Anger was now tipped over and the time of talk finally concluded for now. No matter how swift one ran, It could not attend with so many concentrated beams. As pains of agony flinched against him from welted hits smoldering hence of fog his flesh burnt in several spots already one mean puncture against his arm that made carrying the weight of his scimitar difficult as it was unsheathed to coiled clutches. Stammering with his teeth bitten across his bottom lip drawing own blood it left a scent as he hung behind a spire to steadily, formulate a counter. Silence broke through out the dimension by standby and as the pirate took a peeking look over to see if it could determine the location of its monster. He was senseless and felt ready to run towards another spot to secure himself, in mid-step in a cosmic set of speed a thunderous connected kick echoed through out the jaw of Kuro and sent him spiraling through a layer of terrain and momentum. Raw overwhelmingly monstrous strength cracked against his spine threaten to shatter every bone in a throttle. His grip lost hold of his blades nearly by handles.

Barely his exposable fingertips hung on in desperation, only seconds already into the Void and already his own headspace was reeling back nearly wanting to go unconscious there... A blurriness to his one amber-eye watched these taunting and tormenting steps being heard against the brush of his feline ear... Slowly, methodically drawing out. Every echoing thud against the cryptic soils and nearly no sign of life in the dimensional realm. The fiend pausing purposefully before halting away a few ilms off distance. As the pair locked up once again in eyes. Kuro hardly saw the look of the ferociousness pumping in virile unadulterated and matched strength. A singular gulp was prepped as the Miqo’te braved himself for a thrashing watching that contorted face start to merge back its skin its lips still chunked off. In a split shifting speed once again the demon clutched the throat of the intruder and before the scimitars could be mustered to cut they were swatted ferociously with a tail as helplessness settled in defensively. He was being manhandled and being raised swatted with excruciating whelps by the stinging tail, his tendrils hung over head grabbed and bounded his ‘preys’ four limbs before swinging him around back and forth, over and over in crashing thwacks. His eye was blanking out and becoming more hazy as he was donning the horizon of no return. Even with a Sigil to nullify a lot of the Void’s age progression and overall corruption or to break the illusions it didn’t overall grant anything extraordinary in feats. Pain cried throughout the emptiness of the dimension. After enough invented fall-away slams, the demon got bored with his toy and threw it off to watch it try to slump up and stand. It hung back and crossed a leg just simply levitating a balance on one. Though slowly and surely that reckless and stupid, stupid, man spit out blood over himself drooling slops of streaming saliva before wiping his chin and ripping his rags off that were just decimated this point. He weakly and surely slumped over back to his two feet, his face left blank and darkened across.  Before lightly wrapping a set of hands around his coveted eye-patch and rippling it off breaking his own hold. Glistening and glowing two set of the more brilliantly golden hues peered from his eyelids. Yes... Now he could see, truly. He glamoured up a smile in curvature, It didn’t need following words only the expression in his look the blood oozing and battle-worn frame that took a tremendous pounding from a far superior and overall overwhelming enemy. Round two had just began!

B L A C K

           D E V I L

                         S A G A

~ Master-List of Previous Chapters

#Black Devil Saga #Tales of the Goldbrand #Captain Kuro Solaire #The Void #Sol #Ayla #Shur #Sivir #Kahzoo #Sha #2.0 Crew #Voidal Relics #Continuation #Battle #intensity #Long post #Demise #Despair #Turmoil #A Devil's Lair #-DBZ Narrator - WILL KURO EVER GET HIS FIRST W? #Or will he continue the trend at shooting blanks? #Balafon #Jhallari

[quarterfromcanon]

#afewofmyfavoritethings

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 17 - Cold [2,838 words]

“Um... guys? You might wanna come take a look at this.” 

The cushion of the sofa dipped beside Heather when Valencia joined her at the window. Paula and Rebecca leaned over the armrests and pulled back the lace curtains. The group gazed through the frosted pane at the rolling hills that had transformed into a wintry world overnight. 

Rebecca squealed. “It’s even better than I expected! I know the weather called for snow but look at all that!” Her nose bumped the glass as she craned to take everything in, and she pulled away from the frigid contact. “Oh, it’s so much prettier when there aren’t cabs driving through it and city grime isn’t turning the drifts all gray and gross. The view from my mom’s house was okay, but nothing like this.” She sighed. “Well, ladies, I think you know what this means.”

“Photo sesh?” Valencia shifted to access the phone in the pocket of her space onesie.

“Snowman contest?” Paula rubbed her hands together. She grinned in the dangerous way that told them all they were toast before construction even began.

“Sledding?” Heather suggested. She dropped to a seated position and leaned against Valencia’s biceps.

“Okay, yes to all of that,” Rebecca pointed at each of them in acknowledgement. “But for the grand finale...,” she paused for dramatic effect and shimmied, “... snowball fight!”

“Oh boy,” Heather murmured. She watched the competitive gleam ignite behind the eyes of the other three women. “This is gonna be a bloodbath.” 

They broke off in separate directions. Paula wandered down the hall to wake Scott and Tommy; Rebecca went to the loft for the end of Nathaniel’s morning exercise routine, and Heather and Valencia headed back to their room to change clothes.

Scott cooked them all breakfast beforehand -- a task which, to be fair, was no small undertaking given conflicting dietary preferences. Paula sat perched on a stool nearby, ready to intervene in the event of a crisis. However, Scott made it through the endeavor with minimal profanity and only one fleeting incident involving his apron and an open flame. The end result was an admirable improvement over the quality of his culinary skills several years ago. Strategic seasoning masked any mildly crispy edges.

“He’s getting better,” Paula noted quietly to the girls. She crossed the floor and give him a peck on the cheek. “Good job, babe.”

Scott beamed.

Once everybody was fed, fully dressed in adequate layers, and equipped with tissues for runny noses, they trooped out of the rented cabin and into the frozen landscape. The photo session came first while the neatness of everyone’s ensemble remained intact. It was agreed that Nathaniel, Scott, and Tommy could be spared on-camera participation in exchange for behind-the-scenes help getting the perfect shots. This entailed holding back tree branches that cast unwanted shadows, standing side-by-side to block glaring sunlight, and tossing gloves full of flakes into the sky so the Gurl Group would appear to be caught in the middle of heavy snowfall. The edited results were approved by all parties featured, and Paula goaded their assistants into a single commemorative picture with their mitten thumbs raised and semi-forced cheerful faces.

Snow angels met with more unanimous enthusiasm. Rebecca and Heather stood beside one another, shared a glance and a nod, then dropped backward as if they were letting themselves fall into a pool. Scott and Tommy gave each other teasing kicks with their boots every time they slid their legs in a broad chevron. Paula observed the father-son bonding from a short distance away while she made her own outline of a spiritual being. Nathaniel’s and Valencia’s approach to the activity was significantly more tentative and involved a great deal more grimacing. Once they got settled, however, they began to embrace the fun. Nathaniel’s long limbs produced very impressive wings and a flowing skirt. Valencia’s angel gave the impression of a certain grace despite the fact that her main goal seemed to be brushing Heather’s gloves with her own on each upward stroke of her arms. 

They divided into teams for the snowman contest. An hour was the chosen allotment for their creations to take shape. Additional materials were both allowed and encouraged, which caused the subsequent flurry of activity to be particularly chaotic. Their shouts echoed over the treetops. Friends narrowly escaped collisions while running and stumbling over the soft ground. 

Rebecca and Nathaniel constructed a suitably scrawny Harry Potter. He was equipped with green M&M eyes, a red licorice lightning bolt scar, a broom from the kitchen pantry, and Rebecca’s scarlet and gold scarf. Surprising absolutely no one, building the beloved protagonist led to a steady stream of magic-related innuendo spoken in undertones, the extremity of which ultimately prompted Rebecca to cover the boy wizard’s nonexistent ears. “Oh my god, contain yourself. There’s a child present.”

Heather and Valencia rendered extra roly-poly versions of their cats, Shadow and Esperanza, with stick whiskers and playfully curled tails. Esperanza had her signature queenly bearing and expression, while Shadow’s gravel eyes were upturned in pure adoration. Heather tracked down a couple of decorative glue yarn balls and wedged them beneath their pets’ paws. 

Team Proctor reached football-game-at-a-bar levels of raucousness as they worked on their entry. The Peeps for Peace t-shirt Paula slept in the night before got tugged onto their snowman’s body. They balanced a few thin logs of firewood on its shoulder and secured a hammer from Scott’s toolbox in its hand. Tommy drew a lackadaisical smirk on the snowman’s face and styled straw for the hair. When their efforts were complete, a Snow Brendan stood before them, built to scale and adorned with a heroic blanket cape.

“I wanna cry foul for emotional manipulation,” Rebecca confided to Valencia afterward, “but it’s just, like, so cute I can’t even get mad.” Valencia begrudgingly inclined her head in agreement.

To her credit, Paula managed to blink back her tears and genuinely smile for the photo they saved to send real-life Brendan later, informing him of his role in the family’s success.

The prospect of voting on hills for sledding was too daunting, so the group settled for the first drop-off they found. The guys were extended the offer to go first, due to the limited number of sleds in their possession, and they gladly accepted the chance. Nathaniel shifted from one foot to the other and brought his palms together in a muffled clap. 

“This is a race, right? There’ll be a winner?” 

Heather thumped her hand against his jacket with an indulgent shrug. “Sure, bud.” 

Nathaniel pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!” 

Scott and Tommy exchanged looks. Paula, Rebecca, Valencia, and Heather all clung to each other for support and made their way down the slope to help verify who reached the bottom first. 

“Good luck, honey!” Paula called. 

“Channel that Slytherin energy!” Rebecca paced like a coach. 

Heather nudged Valencia’s arm and angled her head. Valencia’s brow furrowed but then, following the line of sight, she got the hint.

“C’mon, Tommy!” she whooped. 

“Yeah, Tommy, you’ve got this!” Heather chimed in with her fist held high. Tommy’s chest puffed out and he readjusted his grip on the plastic toboggan.

Paula grabbed a fallen branch and dragged it through the snow to delineate the end of the path. The four judges shouted the starting cue in unison -- almost. “On your mark, get set, go!”

Scott’s style of descent was traditional but effective. Tommy barreled down the hillside on his stomach. Nathaniel’s technique reminded Heather of the luge participants from the Winter Olympics, unwavering serious features and all. Tommy and Nathaniel were neck and neck for at least three-fourths of the race but, in the home stretch, Tommy’s lean frame made him just enough faster to cross the finish line mere seconds before Nathaniel did so. 

Nathaniel was clearly frustrated by the loss but, the minute he saw Tommy’s broad grin, the irritability visible in his brow and jaw smoothed into nonexistence. He lifted his chin and approached his competitor for a congratulatory shake. “Well done, Proctor. Excellent form.”

Tommy’s eyebrows quirked at the odd formality. He clasped Nathaniel’s hand and brought him in for a couple of genial slaps on the arm. “Thanks, man.”

The girls reluctantly ascended to the crest of the rise for their turns -- an arduous journey with an entire chorus of grumbling and winded breathing. The uppermost layer of snow caved beneath Valencia’s boot and she yelped, but Heather caught her elbow and prevented the fall. 

“My hero.” Valencia secured her forearm over Heather’s to prevent a second slip.

“Full disclosure, I would’ve laughed my ass off if you slid back down the entire hill when we were this close to the top, but I also knew you’d be really pissed, so...” 

“You’re not wrong.”

Heather chuckled and hip-checked Valencia, but not hard enough to throw off their matching stride.

They arrived at their destination with a collective relieved exhale. Paula and Heather set up their respective sleds. Rebecca clambered behind Paula and held onto her shoulder blades. “Take us home, Mama!” 

Heather fronted the second toboggan while Valencia surrounded her in a tangle of limbs. “We’ve got this in the bag,” Valencia declared with confidence. 

“I mean, totally, but what makes you so sure?” Heather asked.

“Because, if you get us there first, I’ll --” Valencia noticed Paula’s and Rebecca’s attention on her. She cupped Heather’s ear and whispered the rest of her incentive for so long that Paula pretended to check an invisible watch. 

Heather’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her beanie. “Well, shit.”

“Ah, damn it,” Paula lamented.

“She promised her NC-17 stuff,” Rebecca seconded with a pout. “Now we’re really gonna have to pull out all the stops to beat them.”

Though it was not for lack of trying -- including an unsportsmanlike sideswipe midway down the incline (“Craterface ’em, Paula! It’s our only hope!”) -- they reached the bottom of the hill a heartbeat after Heather’s triumphant first place achievement. Valencia covered the side of Heather’s face in a barrage of kisses.

“Yeah, all right.” Paula fished out her camera. “Get over here so we can take a picture of our three winners, ya horny monsters.”

Valencia and Heather posed on either side of Tommy for the photo. Heather affectionately ruffled the boy’s hair and the pink in Tommy’s cheeks deepened to a bright red.

The only event that remained was the snowball fight, and its onset sparked an immediate change in atmosphere. Much like Heather predicted, no one showed any signs of restraint over their hunger for victory. They crafted forts in near silence, already coiled for the siege. Direct hits qualified as ‘out’ while a graze with a snowball meant a one minute pause behind the player’s designated barrier. Teams were the same as the divide during the building contest.

Tension rose while everyone hunkered down and waited for the first throw. 

“We probably should’ve figured this part out before --” Heather remarked, but her words were drowned out by Rebecca’s battle cry.

“UNLEASH HELL!”

Heather crouched low. “Here we go...”

The cloudless sky was blurred by a torrent of tightly packed spheres. 

“Trebuchet!” Tommy boomed.

Heather’s and Valencia’s fortress stood firm but the sound of multiple piffs of impact reached their ears even over all the yelling.

Things went eerily quiet after that. Heather peered over the wall. “The Proctors are entering No Man’s Land.”

Valencia peeked around the side. “Rebecca’s walking out to meet them. Nathaniel’s spotting her.”

What followed was a rather comedic standoff in which Rebecca lost her nerve after meeting Paula’s determined gaze and took off screaming. She zigzagged as per Nathaniel’s frantic advice and barely evaded being struck at least half a dozen times. Nathaniel’s tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth and he wiped out Tommy with a snowball square in the middle of his back. Tommy swore colorfully but accepted his fate. 

Seeing an opportunity as the chase neared their station, Heather aimed a round of icy ammo at Scott’s chest and made a hit. 

Rebecca’s panic became a single, loud “AAAAAAAAAH” before she lobbed a ball over her shoulder without warning and somehow pelted her best friend in the face. 

Paula’s vocabulary surpassed even Tommy’s creativity - like mother, like son. Rebecca apologized profusely and supplied her scarf for a towel. When Paula wiped the snow away, she cast a glance around and realized which players remained. “Ohoho, it almost makes it worth it just to watch this,” she cackled darkly.

“Bring it on, Plimpton.” Valencia tensed with a murderous scowl. Nathaniel rose to his feet.

Their other opponent veered toward the encampment, and Heather planted herself between Rebecca and Valencia.

“You and me, Davis,” Rebecca challenged. “Moi et toi. I’m unstoppable now!” 

Heather darted forward without hesitation. Rebecca had to swerve to avoid the attack. Valencia hurled a snowball with all her might and then ran full-tilt in search of a better location to strategize. 

Rebecca and Heather wound up traversing uneven soil and tripped simultaneously. From that point on, they were both too busy giggling to pursue each other in earnest. They faked left and right and jogged in circles. When they found themselves face-to-face again, they reached the unspoken decision that enough was enough. Heather separated her snowball into two, one for each hand, and Rebecca held her arm at the ready. Rebecca’s fingers whacked against Heather’s side while Heather sandwiched Rebecca’s face between both palms. They erupted in uncontrollable laughter and hugged.

“Oh, come on!” Paula groused from her seat on the cabin steps. “Where’s the carnage?”

Scott tapped her knee and pointed to the far side of the clearing. “I think that might be coming up.”

Valencia wove through a copse of trees. She held her coat in a cup formation stuffed with snowballs that were perilously close to leaving the makeshift pouch. Her arm windmilled every so often with remarkable force, leaving her tracker to dodge the sudden breeze past his ears. Nathaniel paced himself with an armload of ready-made orbs condensed for swift delivery. Those he let loose tumbled to the earth or broke against bark on the trunks. Nothing found its mark.

“Make a stand and take your shot, V!” Heather projected the command to carry across the distance between them. 

“Yeah, avenge your lady!” Tommy added from the porch railing.

The adversaries returned to the middle of the playing space and paused to catch their breath. 

“Yoga and spinning are non-confrontational,” Valencia panted. “This is seriously not my area of expertise.”

“Follow your gut,” Paula recommended, although her tone and premature wince indicated that she was not optimistic about the outcome.

Nathaniel wound back his arm. Valencia did as her friend told her and took action on instinct. She launched herself at an angle, shoes-first, to glide past Nathaniel’s feet. He adjusted the throw and caught her on the clavicle. Her snowball flew back at a curve and nailed the small of his spine.

The assembled companions reacted as one with exclamations and applause. Nathaniel held out a hand for Valencia. She stood without assistance and shook the outstretched palm. 

“Good game?” Nathaniel said cautiously.

Valencia bared her teeth in a terrifying smile. “Prepárate, gigante. Próxima vez, peleamos en mis términos.”

Nathaniel gave a respectful nod. “Comprendo.”

They returned to the warmth of the cabin, exhausted but happy. Rebecca helped Nathaniel remove his silver and green scarf and they commandeered the coziest couch in front of the fireplace. Paula went in search of extra towels and blankets while her husband and son retreated to the bathroom to drape their wet winter gear over the tub. Heather and Valencia walked to their bedroom and the waiting comfy clothes in their luggage.

“Oh my God, my thighs are like a fire engine,” Valencia announced as she sat on the bed. Heather knelt and rubbed the numb skin until the friction started to drive the discoloration away. She received thanks in the form of a grateful nuzzle before Valencia crossed the room to find the fluffiest pajamas available.

While Heather tugged on a sweater and sweatpants, Valencia rolled up an already used pair of leggings and crammed them against the crack below the door.

“What are you up to over there?” Heather inquired without facing her.

“Soundproofing.” Valencia twisted the lock with a click.

Heather climbed into bed and turned down the other side to make space for Valencia. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

“Mm, I figured the others might appreciate it.”

“I’m sure they do.”

Valencia wriggled under the comforter and pulled Heather toward her. “We’ve got at least an hour before dinner’s ready.”

Heather inched Valencia’s shirt collar aside gradually and trailed kisses all the way to her shoulder. “Are you sure that’ll be enough time?” 

“Maybe.” Valencia maneuvered by degrees until Heather was horizontal against the mattress. She tugged Heather’s earlobe with her teeth and wrapped one leg around her waist. “If we start right now.”

#H+V FF #CEG Writing by Me #Helencia #Heather x Valencia #Me? Jumping at the chance for a season-centric fluff fest? Pfft -- Yes. Yes every single time. #Admittedly this installment is more large group-focused and Helencia-lite until close to the end but *shrug* #I was enjoying tagging along for the fun too much to resist. :P

[halfblood-fiend]

The Healer’s Heart - (f!Hawke x Anders)

Aha! I thing! And a not bad thing! And it’s a thing that could become A THING if I feel like putting anything into it. I could see it being a slow burn with some Varric lovin’ throw in. But who knows.

Rating: Teen

Words: 2,465

Warnings: blood

Summary: Stasia Hawke has found herself in need of a healer.

Stasia took a deep stabilizing breath and knocked upon the lantern-lit door on the edge of Darktown. She pressed the bunched up robes to the gash on her left thigh and tried not to think about her throbbing right arm where it hung uselessly at her side. It was bad enough that Anders would berate her this time for sure.

She'd already been to the clinic six times this week, but always as a bit of a joke. She came in with bruises and skinned knees claiming she needed expert healing. Anders' lovely mouth twisted into a knowing smirk as she asked him ridiculous questions: ‘How serious is it, healer? Am I going to die? I think I'm bleeding out!’ He usually played along too: ‘Oh, this looks bad. I'll need to amputate for sure.’ Sometimes she believed the lovely blonde man was seeing right through her. Stasia visited often just to see him. Scrapes were her thin guise as she bid for his well sought after attention. Anders was patient with her and he made the time, even if all she got was a quick touch of healing magic and a warm smile. It was worth it for the precious minutes she could steal. "Take care, Hawke," he would murmur to her every time, turning away to tend to a needier patient. He made her warm. And she just never got tired of hearing those three simple words. But she needed more. More time to talk, more time with him. So she made her visits more frequent, more colloquial.

But Stasia was here in the middle of the night now, with a dislocated shoulder and a scrap of fabric wrapped around her leg as a makeshift tourniquet. The fun and games had come to a halting end. If Anders wasn't in tonight, she'd probably die.

She knocked again and leaned heavily on the door frame. Please be here. Please help me. And when she was starting to feel she would collapse, the door cracked open.

"Hello? Hawke?!" Anders pulled the door wide and caught Stasia as she swayed forward on her bad leg.

"Help," she said feebly as pain lanced up her entire left side when she moved.

“Stasia!”

Anders ducked under her left arm and helped her hobble inside, leading her to one of the many worn tables he used to treat people. His clinic was empty so late at night. Jars of salves and potion bottles glittered in the low lantern light along one wall while empty bedrolls lined the other, some of them stained by substances Stasia didn’t want to think about. It must have been quiet at the clinic and, judging by his half hazard dress and the lack of his overcoat, Anders might’ve actually been sleeping in the back for once before Stasia dragged herself down here. A small pang of guilt stuck in her throat. Anders always looked so tired, doing everything he could for refugees, and then here she was in the dead of night. She couldn’t even let him sleep. She was too selfish sometimes… Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Stasia? Stasia!” Anders said sharply, snapping his fingers before her eyes as he eased her onto the tabletop. “Stay with me. Listen to my voice. Focus.”

She wanted to ask him why she wouldn’t be focused on someone as beautiful as him but she couldn’t seem to make her lips move.

“Who did this to you? Nevermind. I suppose you made plenty of enemies with the Red Iron. And fraternizing with Bartrand, I’m sure. And the Kirkwall Guards… Perhaps it would be easier to name who wouldn’t have done this.” Stasia couldn’t quite tell if he was speaking to her or to himself, but she tried to focus like he asked her to anyways. Anders scurried towards his jars and came back with a thick white paste and a knife, then he set to work cutting away her robes to better see the gash in her thigh. She knew what he saw. It was a deep gash across her flesh from a guard assassin’s knife. Slit close to her inner thigh, it gushed thick blood in the darkness and Stasia’s leg had crumpled beneath her immediately. Blinded with pain, she had become all but useless. Feeble spells flew from her fingertips as she called out for her brother.

“You didn’t make it here yourself?” Anders asked her, attempting to stem the bleeding with a cloth. “You couldn’t have! Who the hell just left you here on my doorstep to die, Stasia?!” He sounded almost angry as his body flared up with blue healing magic. For half a second, Stasia thought Justice had come out, but when she looked at Anders, he was himself, brows furrowed, brown eyes fierce.

Aveline had helped her tie a rudimentary tourniquet above her wound and Carver had run her sorry ass to Anders’ clinic. At her urging, she shooed him away to help Aveline and Varric with the rest of the phony guard patrol. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that Anders may not have been there and she could have died, not until Carver was long gone.

“Pray to the Maker it’s not poisoned. I can hardly tell! Maker’s breath! This is so bad. It is not your sole duty to make the streets of Kirkwall safe, you know. If you keep playing hero like this, you’ll wind up dead! And I don’t think either of us wants that.”

Stasia grinned to herself, heart fluttering. He didn’t want her to die. How thoughtful of him.

A few moments more and the tingle of Anders’ magic ceased. He tried to wipe at the wound with his blood-logged cloth but he cast it aside with a grunt of frustration instead.

“Maker, you’ve lost too much. Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”

He disappeared from her field of vision and Stasia let her eyes flutter closed. She felt weak and clammy, and it was difficult to breathe, but at least she was safe. Anders wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. Of that, she was certain. There was a kind of peace here. She would never have believed that anywhere in Darktown could be safe, let alone peaceful, but there it was. Anders made this place that way. It didn’t matter how chaotic their first meeting was, Anders always struck her as equal to peace.

“Oh no, you don’t! I haven’t even checked for concussions yet!” Anders snapped, shaking Stasia by the shoulder. She screamed as the dislocated side jostled against the table, her startling green eyes flying open. “Maker’s breath, I’m so sorry! Your shoulder too? Stasia, what in the world have you been doing?” He uncorked a bottle of opaque liquid with his teeth and eased a hand beneath her head as he pressed the bottle to her lips. “A restorative,” he murmured. “You’ve lost too much blood. This should help.”

She tried to drink obediently but the potion was so bitter that she choked on it. Anders clucked at her impatiently and offered it to her again. “I’m not asking you, Stasia, now drink it.”

When she had finished the whole flask, eyes streaming, Stasia coughed, “So…pushy…”

“If you’d rather I let you die…?”

He bent over her leg again and dabbed a fresh cloth into the jar of white paste. When he touched it to her half-healed wound it sent fire shooting up through her body. Stasia had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out again.

“No poison,” Anders muttered. “You got lucky.” His body shone with shimmering blue light once more as the tingling of healing magic returned.

“Funny. I don’t feel that lucky,” Stasia muttered, which wasn’t wholly true. As she gazed at his sharp profile and focused features, she felt fairly lucky indeed.

“I don’t suppose I can encourage you to keep your head down now?” Anders asked. “There are a few of us out there that would be moved by your passing.”

“‘A few of us’?”

He pursed his lips as his magic slowly diminished. Anders sagged a bit against the table and let out a breath of relief, but he didn’t look at her. “I hope you do not mind too terribly, but your shoulder will have to be fixed the old-fashioned way. It might be painful.”

Somewhat disappointed, Stasia let the subject drop and pushed herself to sitting with her good arm. Already she was feeling, well, alive again. The potion, she reasoned, was behind it. Some of the weakness had left her but the room spun a little.

“On your stomach, please, Hawke. And you’ll need to relax as well.”

“What’re you—”

“I need a weight. This will just have to do.” Anders returned to her with rope and a sack of potatoes from the back.

“Asking me to dinner?” Stasia snickered.

“Fixing your blasted arm,” Anders snapped, silencing her as he nudged her to hang her arm over the side of the table and tied the sack to her wrist. “It will hurt, but you have to try to relax, Hawke. Gravity will do the rest.”

Stasia hissed as Anders let her arm hang uselessly but she put it from her mind when he bent down only inches from her face to look into her eyes.

“Anders—”

“Follow my finger with only your eyes.” She did as she was told as he moved his hand around her field of vision.

“I never hit my head,” she huffed.

“Better to check anyway. I can never be sure what kind of trouble you get yourself into. Speaking of…” He fixed her gaze with his and asked sternly, “What were you doing? And who left you here?”

She didn’t quite know why, but Stasia blushed hard under his penetrating stare. “Aveline needed help clearing out bandits posing as guards and I elected to help. And Carver left me but only because I told him to go back to Varric and Aveline!”

“You’re lucky I’d be hunted if I set foot out of this clinic… But what if I had needed to make a house call? What if…” His brows suddenly knit like a thought had suddenly struck him. “Hawke. You’re a mage. Don’t you know how to heal yourself?”

Now Stasia’s whole body grew hot and she fidgeted under his gaze. “I-I…I don’t know how.”

Anders balked. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know how’? No one ever taught you? All this time I thought you were coming in with bruises and scrapes just to see me, not because you actually required healing! How could you have gone so long without knowing? How have you even survived this long?”

She started to explain herself in a gasping stutter but was saved by a soft popping in her hanging shoulder. All she felt immediately was relief, both in her shoulder and for being saved from a very awkward admission.

Anders probed it gingerly with his fingertips, but it seemed that the worst of the pain had gone. He bade her sit up and touch her opposite shoulder and when he was satisfied it was back in place, he handed her a new salve.

“For the swelling,” he said. “It will ache for a few days yet, but there doesn’t seem to be any lingering damage. But keep an eye out, just in case. Now then.” Barely stifling a yawn, Anders plodded towards his back room and came back with his staff and a traveling cloak fastened around his neck.

Stasia looked at him blankly. “Where are you going?”

“I’m taking you home,” Anders said impatiently. “I’m not about to let you wander around alone at this time of night. And who knows where your friends got off to. Now, come on.”

“Aw, so I don’t need to stay overnight for observation?”

Anders’ mouth pressed into a hard line. “No.”

Her heart withered a little in her chest, the smile dropping from her face like a rock from the cliffside. Stasia tried to tell herself the one letter declaration wasn’t an outright rejection but… it sure felt like it. Anders had been relatively easy to joke with in the last few weeks, and sometimes he even flirted back with her, but that one word seemed so…final. Anders wasn’t just answering her question this time, he was shutting her down.

Seeming to sense her distress, Anders sighed. “You would do better going back to your house. It’s certainly got to be more comfortable than a bedroll on the floor here?” He gave her a weak smile.

Shrugging halfheartedly, Stasia eased herself off the table and tucked her short red hair behind her ear. Anders offered an arm to her, but she ignored him, limping to where her staff lay abandoned on the floor instead. Anders had just reached the door when it banged open and there in the doorway stood a bloodied, but triumphant Carver.

“Not dead yet, sister?” he grinned, blue eyes glittering beneath all the gore.

Anders scowled and opened his mouth but Stasia never got to hear what he had to say.

“You missed an amazing battle,” Carver went on loudly. “You should’ve seen it! I could do a whole lot more without you there, getting in my way. Aveline has already gone back to the Keep, so I thought I’d come by and help you to Gamlen’s. Varric’s standing guard down the alley but the road home should be clear now. Thanks for looking after her, mage. It’s just too bad you could save her after all. Anyways, come on, sister. I’m tired from all that work you made me do.” And with that he marched away, sword slung over his shoulder.

Stasia flushed hot and angry but she was sure that she looked like nothing compared to how red in the face Anders had gotten. He glowered at Carver’s back and she wondered if this was one of those moments when he was going to turn into Justice.

“Thank you for saving me, Anders,” she said gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

“I’d rather you not get hurt at all,” he replied stiffly, clearly still bristling. “It would seem that there is a gaping hole in your education, Hawke. Next time you come in, I shall have to remedy it.”

“Oh? I don’t think I have a head for healing.”

“Nonsense. You have a kind heart. I’d say that’s perfect for healing.” He looked at her and graced her with the first genuine smile that she had seen all night. It made her stomach flip.

Then all at once, Anders’ gaze became too intense for her and she gulped and averted her eyes. Trying to ignore her racing heart, she mumbled another thanks and stepped into the night.

#Anders #Handers #Dragon Age 2 #f!Hawke #f!Handers #DA2 #Stasia Hawke #Carver Hawke #Fiend writes #A.N.D.E.R.Sunday