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legaciestold · 7 days

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early january 2019, somewhere in dc alternate timeline @everythingheard (leon)

the last few weeks have been a sort of blurred amalgamation of chaos. well, if claire is honest with herself the last few months have been really. it wasn't that long ago that she'd been a simple girl who's most stressing factor of her life was what was going to be on the following day's test in one of her college courses or her annoyance at chris' lack of contact as of late. that'd been what had led her toward a weekend in raccoon city. she'd go there, visit with jill and barry and chris and chastise her older brother for being incognito. then, she'd call text her roommate and tell her everything was fine and she'd had an epic weekend and was relatively prepared for monday's quiz. simple. except, nothing about that night she'd driven into raccoon had been simple and the horror show had failed to end in the aftermath, instead shifting and reforming into car chases and kidnappings and two outbreaks on that god-damned island and in antarctica.

it'd been hard, to stay ahead of all their enemies leading up to paris and claire's fairly certain they wouldn't have made it as far as they had without david and john and becca who, at least the former two, had access to all kinds of underground means to help them through various contacts they'd made in the world prior. not in this day and age where all someone had to do was snap a picture and facial recognition could do the rest. she'd had to completely change her hair color to red from her darker strands too-- temporarily-- but at least sherry had gotten a kick out of wearing a wig. it'd also meant none of them could really spend time outside the safe houses which often meant that claire and leon had a lot of time to stick together and get to know one another. they hadn't been as outgoing as sherry who always asked the other three questions and it hadn't occurred to her until she'd been captured the first time that she hadn't slept alone in months either. not because her and leon were.. well, she wasn't sure what they were even if she'd picked up some signals from him that maybe he wouldn't mind being more than just.. friends, but because there was only so much space and they wanted sherry to have her own bed so it'd been practical, especially at the beginning to just lay next to each other on one. they were adults, it wasn't a big deal. and if they sometimes they ended up closer, it was just because one of them had a nightmare and it.. helped to have the other there.

but then she'd felt as if her and leon had been upon the precipice of some kind of shift that had been building since utah only for her to be captured by umbrella and shipped off to rockfort. they'd barely even gotten a reunion when chris had brought her back either because everyone was moving and scattering because their location had been discovered and her and leon had just been trying to get sherry somewhere safe. it'd only been a few hours later when they'd been surrounded and panic had set in when she'd thought it was umbrella. it hadn't been a relief when she'd realized it was her own government though either. at least they'd let them stay together on the transport. but claire hadn't been sure if it was a good faith tactic or sympathy before they killed them for what they knew and that had haunted them for a number of hours before they'd been forced apart at some base or where ever the fuck they'd been taken. she's pretty sure she'd managed to land at least a black eye to one operative. in any case, she hadn't calmed until hours later, after their deals had been presented and she'd known there was at least some value placed on her life by them.

she'd used that, to the best of her ability.

agreed to their terms if they agreed to hers. claire had quickly learned that they weren't going to let her or leon have sherry back but at least they'd said they could see her and she thinks, now, that likely had to do with the fact it was something both her and leon had countered with when presented with their respective deals. she'd gotten them to agree to clear the s.t.a.r.s. members like her brother too though she felt that was possibly something they were already planning on. if they weren't going to kill them for what they knew they wanted people they could use. people that they could keep within their grasp instead of allowing to reveal what they knew. people with experience to help them against something like raccoon happening again. eventually, claire decided there was some truth to that and maybe they weren't full of malice in detaining them but it hadn't meant she fully trusted them either. she hadn't really stopped hearing her heart pounding in her ears until they'd let her see leon and they'd told each other what they'd been made to agree too; what they'd agreed to protect sherry but also to protect each other.

and that last realization had nearly overwhelmed her in it's intensity and all the little implications that it held within it.

at least... though, they let them say bye to sherry and claire thinks leon's hold on her had lasted far passed when her and him had been allowed to finally have some place to rest because maybe that hold was the only thing keeping them from feeling as if everything was ripped away in that moment. it wasn't freedom, they were still in a kind of house arrest until things began to move into place with their deals, but it was a room without eyes on them. a room they'd been in together because they'd steadfastly refused to be separated when things were so influx and some part of them maybe still believed despite the deals they were in danger. that'd been days ago and claire thinks maybe the last few days have been the least her and leon have actually communicated with each other sans figuring out what their deals were going to cause their futures to look like and the relief they'd had when they'd been told that her brother and the others had been found but weren't being detained, only debriefed and they were being cleared of the falsehoods spread after raccoon. part of claire figures that made sense, since most of them had been military prior it'd be easier to gain cooperation once they were shown the government knew the truth and were willing to clear them.

things had calmed now too, in relation to her and leon's situation. they weren't being treated badly.. now, at least. they were being informed of things. they told him about what lay ahead with his training and told her they'd had her school records altered to take off the fails in all her classes when she hadn't shown up for them after raccoon and they were securing her what was needed for what they'd agreed to with her. but her and leon hadn't really had a moment to address anything between them about them even if that shift still felt present, maybe in some ways more so in the subtle moments in the last few days they'd kept each other in their sight, in the way they automatically held a united front when someone communicated with them, arms brushing, a hand held to comfort and calm, in the way there'd been a shift to her curling into him instead of facing away out of some semblance of maintaining a line that said 'we're only stopping nightmares by laying like this, we're just friends'. she thinks maybe, that's his way of protecting her too, especially after she'd been missing for so long after paris with him unknowing if she was even alive until she'd gotten that video call out and she'd seen his tired features come back to life when he'd appeared on the screen and saw her.

thank god for modern technology.

but now, as claire watches him return to the quarters and pause at the door searching the room until his gaze lands on her and knows she's still there just like she does every time she's called out of the room and returns to him, the fact that they are going to be separated again finally fully washes over her like a train running her over. it's not goodbye, claire reminds herself. in no world were they going to let it be yet as it stood it wasn't what it could be either. or rather, their future wasn't. it strikes her, that for some time now, when she's thought about the future there was some version of them in it. that he'd become this force in her life that had impacted in her a way that would never not be present. that even if she was going to be allowed to go finish college and he was going to go off for some training that she knew was going to be a hell of lot worse than standard training (she'd spent years on a base, she'd heard the stories about special forces and other types of training), she didn't want to leave things unsaid or influx. she wanted.. she wanted him to have a reason to come back.. to her. she wanted them to have a focus point. something solid, even if it was just a hope for something. maybe that's what they both needed after all the shit they'd been through. it's also why claire's crossing the room before she can stop herself. it's why she doesn't stop until she's so close to him that she can feel his breath and warmth because he hasn't been the one to broach this yet but she's willing to be. it's why her gaze washes over his whole face, lingering on his lips for a brief moment before settling on his ocean eyes.

"i don't know what the next few months are going to look like for either of us, leon. but what i do know is, i like you." that word didn't seem to encompass all of what she felt but it was all the previous lit major was able to muster at the moment. "i'm willing to admit that now." she states, letting her hand reach up to touch the side of his face. suddenly she feels like a highschooler with a crush and not a woman standing there with someone she's gone through hell and back with. but she pushes that down and continues. "i think this thing between us.. i think it could be something. i want it to be, but i'll survive if you don't." she wouldn't judge him if he refused this; they were both still dealing with a hell of a lot of trauma claire also thought sometimes the best things in life were things you had to fight for or be brave enough to take a leap of faith for. that was what hope was and somewhere along the way leon had become hope to her, and.. warmth. hopeful warmth that she sought out like a cat to the sun. she was ready to, she could only just hope he was too. "i just know i do like you and i have for awhile now and i know you're someone i'm willing to wait for while you go off to train. if you want me to be."

#so so much of this set up you seriously dont have to match length at all #the last few para are really what counts as the starter haha #but apparently my brain and heart just needed admitting feelings thread that wasn't in the middle of an 'incident' lol #still stress around them but they aren't gonna be attacked any second so they have a little peace to have their moment lol #everythingheard #muse; claire redfield #v; biohazard reimagined (secondary timeline)#thread; something between us

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corrupt-fvcker · 4 years

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Annoying (Boba Fett x fem!Reader)

Annoying ( Boba Fett x fem!Reader )

Warnings: fluff, hurt with sorta comfort, mentions of blood, one (1) mention of an erection, naughty words

Word Count: 3.1K

Author’s Note: boba may be a grumpy boyfriend, but he’s pretty decent. reminder that requests are open and if you want to be added to my tag list the link is in my bio :)

Boba’s annoying.

Like, really annoying.

He’s always telling you what to do and when to do it, like he’s the boss of you or something.

Well, technically he did hire you as an onboard mechanic for the Slave I.

But that’s hardly the point.

Because after you reluctantly complete whatever (typically ridiculous) request he’s ordered you to do, he doesn’t show you ever a sliver of gratitude.

He’s constantly teasing you

Probably smirking smugly beneath his bucket whenever you avoid his gaze after a particularly cheeky comment.

You swear that he's going to be the death of you if he doesn't shut the fuck up.

And he's an idiot, you're confident in this even though he always seems to be two steps ahead of you.

"If I'm an idiot, then what does that make you?"

The bitch that's about to roundhouse your ass.

"...shut up."

Boba's also big and green

Like a giant booger you decided.

Because calling him a Hutt would've been a direct insult to Jabba and all who hailed from Nal Hutta.

He's also stubborn.

Which you suppose is a good thing when it comes to his line of work.

But after the quarry's been captured and it's just you and him, you're usually about two minutes away from stranding him on the nearest inhabitable planet.

Boba — the annoying, stubborn, big, green idiot that somehow managed to get his grimy gloved fingers wrapped around your heart with a durasteel strength grip.

And despite his imperfections, you know he cares. He cares a whole lot, actually.

Which is why you're approaching the hour mark of being stranded in the middle of a giant forest.

The stars of the Corellia system moved across the night sky as you wait for your annoying, stubborn, big, green idiot of a boyfriend to find you.

It had started off as a joke.

Not a particularly good joke, but your goal wasn't to make him laugh.

Your goal was to get under his skin.

So you, being the natural-born genius that you are, decide to laugh when Boba oh-so-casually brings up that he is the best bounty hunter in the field.

And you should've dropped it when his helmet ticked to the side and he asked you what was so kriffing funny.

But you — the apparent brains of the operation — don't catch the hint and keep going.

"I mean, I think I could outrun you," you admit nonchalantly, not bothering to look up at him as you absentmindedly pick at a loose thread of your tunic. "Not to mention outsmart you."

You smirk because if Boba is anything but your annoying, stubborn, big, green, idiot boyfriend... he's egotistical.

Boba scoffs, a mixture of amusement and offense lacing his tone. "Yeah? That's what you think?"

You offer him a half-hearted nod, feigning indifference to the whole idea.

He doesn't say anything else after that, nor do either of you bring it up again.

You suspect that maybe he figured that you were just trying to get under his skin, but you didn't think that you could've bruised his ego so easily and truly gotten away with it.

But then all hell breaks loose and the joke that you had started morphed into a much more genuine issue.

An official bounty had been placed on your head, and the reward was quite charitable.

So now, you were hiding out in the middle of some random forest on Corellia as Boba hunts you down to put your survival skills to test.

Your goal is simple, make it back to the Slave I before Boba hunts you down and catches you.

And you had originally thought that it had been a good idea. If Boba, the best bounty hunter there is, can't catch you then hypothetically you shouldn't have to worry about other bounty hunters coming after you.

But you quickly came to regret your decision because now you're lost out in the middle of the forest, hugging some random tree.

You tried not to wander too far from the ship, knowing that you’d have to eventually find your way back.

But you also couldn’t stay too close, it’d be much easier for Boba to find you if you were in the first tree he sees.

You had no definitive way of knowing how much time had passed.

Even though Boba had told you when you landed, you had already forgotten how long a Corellian day was.

Logically, you knew that you couldn't have been waiting for more than an hour.

Though when your natural restlessness mixed with how uncomfortable your hiding spot was, you were convinced that you had been stuck in place for at least several hours.

You had settled yourself up in the branches of a towering tree. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, the bark digging into the soft flesh of your back, but it was endurable.

If you could hide, you could live.

It’s dark, You could barely see the forest floor from your hiding spot.

You weren't far from the ground, maybe a good twenty feet up.

Though you doubted that you’d be able to see Boba if he strolled past your tree.

He had the advantage, of course. Night vision ‘n all his fancy gadgets.

To make matters worse, it’s freezing.

You were itching to get the hell out of the forest and cuddle up on your cot.

But there was a tiny problem.

Boba was coming from the direction of the Slave I.

Which meant that with your luck, there was a very good chance that you’d run directly into him as you’re trying to get back to the ship.

You needed to get Boba off your trail first, get him lost in the jungle.

By the second hour of hiding in the ominous forest, you hear rustling leaves in the distance.

He’s close.

Thankfully, he’s not moving directly towards you.

But you can hear him drawing closer and closer, and you’re about to make a run for it and hope for the best.

And even though you know he’s not going to to hurt you, you’re still terrified.

You hear a twig snap just a few yards from your tree, you flinch.

And then he went silent.

And for a split second, your mind lets you think that he missed you.

But then, just a short distance away, you see it.

The subtle glow of a tracking fob.

He was waiting for something -- standing there, eyes searching for your figure in the darkness.

And then, he turns away, hesitating. Considering his options.

He moves a few paces east, thankfully away from your route back to the ship.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps, and begin to move. Quietly, making sure your movements did not betray you.

But that was your first mistake.

Not noticing that it was a trap.

You didn’t realize it until it was too late.

He’s racing after you now, heavy footsteps thudding against the forest floor.

And for someone weighed down by so much armor, he’s fast.

You’re sprinting.

Entire body burning as you make your way through the thick trees.

The world’s a blur as you run, your feet barely touching the ground as you speed through the forest.

He’s on your trail, hot and quick.

You just prayed that you had a good enough lead, maybe you could outrun him.

And just as the Slave I is in view you realize something.

You realize that you’re wrong.

Two strong arms plated with thick duraplast hook around your waist and yank you off your feet.

Air is ripped from your lungs as soon as the slope of your back slams against the armor covering the firm muscles of his chest.

And desperately, you suck sharply for the oxygen that was just knocked from your body but as soon as you manage to breath in, you are robbed once again as the two of you topple to the ground.

You hit the ground hard.

Your head snapping back as soon as your bodies hit the dirt and the only thing keeping your skull from splitting open against the forest floor is the way Boba tugs you against his chest.

��Fuck!” You grit through your teeth, not sure if it’s the pain of the fall or the disappointment of losing that’s bruised you more.

You don’t stop struggling, continuing to fight him as he wrestles you to the ground.

You’re panting, kicking, grunting, punching, swearing—

Boba... hasn’t broken a sweat.

He’s leaning over your and has got one of your arms craned behind your back, your face pushing into the dirt as you actively chose to ignore what seems to be a hard-on pressed into your lower back. Instead of dealing with his problem, you use what little strength you have left to swing your limbs at him.

THWACK!

You’re free hand collides with the dome of his helmet, and it nearly throws him off his game. You smirk— then you seethe in pain.

The skin of your knuckles cracks open upon impact of the duraplast, successfully hurting you more than it managed to inconvenience Boba.

“You kriffing—”

Your words catch in your throat as he suddenly flips you over, forcing you to face his stupid helmet.

He plops down on you, effectively pushing all the air from your lungs for the third time of the night.

He’s sitting on your stomach, gloved hands grasping your wrists as his legs pin down your own.

“Gonna need to put up more than a fight than that,” Boba growls through his modulator, easily restraining your struggling limbs.

"Fuck you.”

You might actually hate him.

No, you don’t.

“C’mon,” he croons mockingly, leaning forward just a bit so that his helmet hovers over your face. “Thought you said you could outrun me. Outsmart me? You got to have more fire in you than that, baby.”

Then you do something incredibly stupid.

Because — who are you kidding? — you’re not the brains of the operation.

You’re the stubborn one between the two of you (which is saying something), and Boba always knows which buttons to push.

You jerk upward, momentarily slipping your wrists away from his grip that loosened from surprise.

Your head slams into the front of his helmet, your forehead splitting open on collision.

But your pride outweighs your pain as you watch your boyfriend’s head snap back slightly with a strained grunt, effectively freeing your arms from his grasp.

With all the force you can muster, you shove him off of you before he can quickly recover and then you’re running.

Sprinting to the ship even faster than before, despite the heavy blood flow that is now running its course down the side of your face.

As soon as the soles of your boots make contact with the durasteel ramp, you collapse.

Toppling down to your knees in the safe zone because you’re so kriffing tired yet so relieved that you won.

The sound of Boba’s footsteps are right by your head as you carelessly sprawl out on the ramp.

“Fuck,” Boba snarls, suddenly invading your little safe zone.

You smirk because you know he’s pissed about losing to you.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?” Boba snaps, his gloved hands seizing each side of your face to make you look at his visor.

You’re bleeding.

Like a lot.

And you almost don’t have enough energy in you to brag.

“I won, old man,” you sigh dreamily, batting eyelashes as you blink away the dots spotting your vision.

Boba doesn’t even comment on the fact that you’re only a few years younger than him.

“Maker help me, you better not have a concussion,” Boba grumbles with an unamused grimace that’s concealed by his bucket, hauling you up from the ramp despite your protests and carrying you into the hull.

He’s completely silent as he cleans your trophy -- a small cut just below your brow that bled way too fucking much for its size. He sprays some bacta on it and covers it with a bandage, only speaking once all the supplies is put away.

“You need to take this,” Boba argues, his blood-stained gloves now discarded as he holds a few painkillers in his palm.

You shake your head. “It’s not serious. You’re gonna need those sooner or later.”

“You have a head laceration, it’s not gonna be long before you get a migraine,” Boba retorts, forcing your clenched fist open so that he can put the pills in your palm.

“No.”

Fuck, you’re stubborn.

His heavy sigh echos through his vocoder. “I don’t want to hear about how bad your head hurts in an hour.”

“You won’t,” you promise.

Though what’s he gonna do about it if you do? Lose another bet?

It doesn’t even take an hour for your head to start pounding in retaliation of your stupidity. Though you bite your tongue as you sit in the co-pilot’s seat, not wanting to get the “I Told You So” speech yet again.

You’ve been in hyperspace for about twenty minute, sitting with your legs criss-cross in the seat, your eyes closed and your head tilted back.

You hope you just fall asleep unintentionally so that you don’t have to get up again.

Every time you stand you think that your skull is going to burst from the incessant thrumming of your brain.

Thankfully it’s mainly dark in the cockpit, the only light coming from the buttons and stars.

“You don’t look so good,” Boba eventually mutters, a hint of something laced in his tongue.

“Gee, thanks,” you reply groggily, pinching the bridge of your nose as your brows furrow.

Just let me fucking sleep in peace.

“How’s your head?” You were too tired to figure out if it’s concern or smugness in his voice.

Probably both.

Definitely both.

“Do you have to talk so loud?” You complain lamely, opening your eyes to shoot a miserable glare in your boyfriend’s direction.

He snorts, shaking his head in spite of you before motioning you over with two fingers. His voice is low when he speaks.

“C’mere.”

You stare at him for a moment but the light is reflecting painfully off the dome of his helmet and you think that your brain is fucking bleeding.

“Don’t want to,” you reply, trying to play it off as disinterest rather than the inability to walk the three paces to sit in his lap.

When he doesn’t immediately react, you avert your gaze to stars and thank the Maker that you can finally close your eyes and have some peace —

A scoff crackles through his modulator, and you don’t open your eyes to glance in his direction as he stands from the pilot’s seat and moves.

Space is silent and his heavy footsteps ring throughout the cockpit and send vibrations through every bone in your body.

He inserts himself between your slightly parted legs and hovers there for a moment, you can feel his gaze searing into your flesh despite your lack of vision.

His scent is overwhelming — something masculine and spicy, fresh and clean.

“What’s the matter, sweet girl?” He questions softly, leaning forward ever so slightly to cage you in between the co-pilot’s seat and his armor.

His bare hand cradles your cheek before trailing down to wrap around the nape of your neck.

Your eyelashes flutter open and you meet the ominous visor.

“Nothing.”

It’s a plain lie that’s so clear and plastic that it loses all the sharpness and edge that a true lie holds.

He shakes his head, eyes still trained on you. “Really? Nothing’s bothering you?”

This time you shake your head. “Nothing,” you repeat with more firmness.

Stubborn.

He nods thoughtfully, a hum rumbling through his helmet before straightening out, pulling away from you a bit.

You sigh out a small breath of relief, finally having the space to breath air that wasn’t him.

You let your eyelids slump shut again, though you should’ve know better than to think your stubborn boyfriend would leave you alone.

“Hey!”

He’s scooping you up in his arms, pressing you against his chest and moving before you can wiggle out of his grasp.

He’s still carrying you when he descends the ladder, you’re too disoriented to figure out how but he does nonetheless.

He flops you down on the bed, tugging your dirty shirt over your head.

Oh. Oh.

You mentally shrug because even with the pounding of your skull you wouldn’t mind a quick fuck before bed—

But then Boba presses his palm against your forehead and pushes you against the pillow — and you also then realize that he had only removed your dirty shirt so that you wouldn’t complain about the *germs* getting on your pillowcase (which causes acne, you dutifully remind him - not that his buckethead cares).

Though you give him credit where it’s due.

He’s being thoughtful.

He disappears without a word, returning only a few moments later.

He outstretches his hand to reveal three painkillers.

Thoughtful bastard.

You’re still lying flat on the mattress and your eyebrows furrow. “I said that I’m not—”

He tugs his helmet off his head with a short breath, tossing it haphazardly at the foot of the bed.

Sometimes you forget how beautiful he is beneath his green bucket.

Tanned olive skin, dark wavy hair that’s borderline shaggy, calculating eyes that glisten with mirth, and rosy lips that are tilted into a boyish smirk.

“They’re not for you, kid,” he grumbles teasingly before throwing the three pills to the back of his mouth before taking a single gulp of the glass of water that’s still beside your bed from the night before. “Now move over.”

It’s a miracle that you actually listen, scooting to the other side of the bed so that he can collapse on the mattress.

His arms drag you into his chest as soon as he settles, tucking the top of your head beneath his chin.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he utters, voice tainted from exhaustion but you can hear the adoration.

You smile softly, burying your face in his neck so that you can press a kiss to his collar.

“And you’re annoying.”

Good thing I love you.

#boba fett #bob morley #boba fett x reader #boba fett headcanons #star wars #self insert #reader insert #corrupt-fvcker #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fanfic #we love our green booger

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mama-ghostie-61542 · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Lifetimes

Rated M++ for language and themes

If you recognize it, IT AIN'T MINE.

Sorry for the OOC-ness

Chapter 4

Wolf--

"If I hear the word 'Mom' anytime in the next five minutes, you are, all three, gonna lose grandparent privilege's! Enough with the fighting. 'Kala, you need to get over there and do your homework."

"But, Mom," my younger son shouted. "I can't do it alone."

"Yes, you can, dear. All you have to do is write the words in the blanks."

Mornings here were always crazy. This year, they got worse, with all three kids home all day and me working three jobs from home, while taking a few classes to keep up my certification. But what would do my head in were the constant conflicts of scheduling the boys services around project deadlines. Especially when my childless brother was my boss...One of them.

A text came through ~'Hey, Bry, do you have those reports ready? I have to submit them to the bank this afternoon.'

Loveland Demolition was well known in the Midwest, and had been doing well before the pandemic, but now, we were expanding again. I dug around in my ever expanding pile of outgoing paperwork for the fax copy of the expense reports my brother wanted. Why everything with this end of the family business went through me, I would never know. Maybe it was because he had named me our VP of NE Operations. Like I didn't have a decent job already. I mean, I didn't get my Doctorate for it to look pretty on my wall.

Speaking of, I have a class in 15 minutes. Botany of Common Herbs.

I sent off a quick message, ~ I faxed them yesterday. Did you not get them before the boys did?~

My brothers pit bulls were notorious for grabbing the pages as they fell out of the fax machine and shredding them.

A few minutes later, he replied, ~Dammit, Pita! The Pain got 'em. Already in transit?~

~Yep. UPS grabbed it yesterday. Email?~

~Ok. No. Need hard copy. Will reschedule with the bank. Do good in class today!~

About that time I got a plastic cup thrown in my general direction with my oldest son yelling, "More water! Please, Mommy."

Thankfully, my Botany Professor understands me being a little late, as she has a Downie of her own.

I get his water, and as I am standing at the sink for a few seconds extra to breathe, I feel a cold spot on one hip and the pressure of a thumb on my cheek.

'You are amazing, my Queen. You've got this.'

I smile as the feeling, and the ghost of his smiling eyes fades. How does he always know when the stress is getting to me and just what to say; just what to do. It's like I don't have to say a word, he just knows.

Great....Now I am gonna be all giggly the rest of the day. Probably gonna get an email from my Professor, too; nosy old bat.

Kihyun PoV

It was almost 22:00 when I felt the wobble in thin silver thread that connected us. As I reached for it, I felt her stress and frustration start to bleed through and somehow, instinctively knew what to do. It bothers me when she gets this stressed, because she forgets to take care of herself. And then the tension lodges in her back, manifesting as a knot just to the left of her spine.

Settling myself into my meditation, I could almost see her standing at the sink, working on something. Always working, this girl; whether it's on her actual job, her side hustle, an Etsy store where she sells knit caps, or the boys' homework. She ALWAYS has something going on. Her brothers hare-brained decision to expand the family business does not help in the slightest.

As I settle in, I can hear the din of the kids yelling, a timer going off on something, and from some where, another louder ding. She is amazing, how she can just take it all in stride. Some how, I know, she just needs a second to breathe, so I imagine my hand on her hip; stopping her right where she stands.

I visualize my hand cupping her cheek, and whispering to her, 'You are amazing, my Queen. You've got this.' I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as I see her smile. That soft, sweet smile, that just borders on the verge of blushing. I send how I feel seeing her smile down that thread and, some how, just know that she will be smiling all day now.

Awakening from my meditation, I glance at the clock. Hmm. Time for bed. But first, I am curious about the next chapter. How in the hell, with everything else she has on her plate, did she find the time to write this.

I set back on my bed, my pillows piled up behind me, and start reading.

Still Joey

I couldn't sleep so I got up at sunrise and made coffee. Sis woke up a little while later. I heard her alarm go off and then, I heard her sniffle a little. As she stumbled to the kitchen for her morning coffee, her whole bearing was like all the wind had been sucked out of her.

My heart went out to her.

"Sis. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Joey. Just my own brain. Think I am going crazy. That's all."

I'm right there with you.

"Explain," I said.

Rather than use actual words, she put on 'Comatose' by Too Close To Touch. "This says it better than I ever could."

I set aside the story and brought up the song. As I sat there listening, I could almost feel how hurt she was. How she thought she was going crazy. I wanted, so much, to fly to her, where ever she was.

"Sissie," I sighed, "What is the matter?"

"I think I am losing my mind, Joey. I just don't want to remember, if remembering is always going to hurt. I'm afraid that it will cost me the one of the two things I am most afraid to lose; my kids or my mind."

"You aren't going crazy, Sis. Who told you that you were crazy for feeling like that?"

"Mom. According to her, I am. Apparently, it is all just a construct of my own mind. Can't be real because it's all in my head, but it is all that I could ever dream of. It makes me want to sleep until it is real. I want to forget the way his voice sounds, cause it hurts too much to hear it when I am alone. I want to forget the color of his eyes, but I see it everyday in my coffee. I want to forget it all, so it doesn't hurt anymore. There is no way he can be real. No way his smell can be real. The more I remembered, I guess, the more I want to forget."

"Bryn, tell me about him?"

"What does it matter? He is no more than a fantasy my own mind created," she said as she dug in a cabinet and added a more than generous amount of Jack Daniels to her coffee.

"Bry! Really??"

"What," she groused as she sipped on her coffee flavored whiskey.

"It is barely sun rise and you are already drinking. What would he say if he caught you?"

"Doesn't matter," she grumbled as her bottom lip pulled in a little and blinked rapidly, a sure sign she was fighting back her own tears. I could see her start to fold in around herself.

'No, my dear, I am very real. And very disappointed.'

"Bullshit," I yelled. "It does matter! I will prove you wrong. I'll prove to you that he is very real," I growled in my own temper, as I leaned over the table at her, "and I know him. He would be so disappointed in you, right now. Instead of working with the connection, you were trying to drown the memories in whis-," I came to a dead stop as I realized what was actually happening. "How long have you been fighting them? The memories, I mean."

'Told ya. Wait. What!? She'd been wrestling with our memories? Oh, my stubborn Wolf, you were never meant to carry them all yourself.'

She deflated and slid the mug away from her. Resting her head on her arms, she whispered, "I was 14 the first time I remembered anything. At the time it was no more than a whisper, a cold spot when I was upset or hurting. Which, lets be honest, was a lot of the time back then. When I was 16, I finally worked up the courage to talk to someone about my dreams. My mistake was telling Ma."

I cringed. I had heard nasty stories about her mom, but sat still and let her continue.

Is her mother really that bad? How much of this had she been keeping from me.

"She went off and let loose a litany of my supposed short-comings. I still remember it, to this day. 'You are so stupid. Why would any man, especially one like THAT, want anyone like you. Anyone else would be better than YOU; you stupid, worthless, ignorant, ugly, child.' After that, I went back to keeping it all to myself. This one," she said as she brought up Forest Blakk's 'Find Me', "Says it all."

I put on the song and knew how it had hurt her for years. My anger burned when the artist spoke of being told you were crazy. 'I want her, you Crazy Bitch. Good Mother, Please,' I started, before thinking better of the prayer that had been on my tongue a moment ago. 'Please watch over her, Grandmother.'

Hearing her own mother call her those things, was tough to listen to. But I could tell she still wasn't finished yet. I let her go, she had years of this pain to offload.

"As I got older, it changed. I was almost 26 when the burn of a kiss landed on my cheek. My ex-husband, at the time, saw the blister it left and went ballistic. Woke me up by kicking the end of the bed. 'I want a divorce. I don't know who he is, but I plan on making you pay for it. Now, get your stuff and get out.' And I paid for it, alright. Didn't even bother to ask if I had it the night before, just assumed I was sneaking out. I never did. Looking back now, maybe I should have left the first time accused me. The ink wasn't dry on the divorce papers when he got remarried. Literally, got them both done in half an hour."

"Are you kidding me? He wanted to accuse you, but he...," I will admit that I was finally starting to see just how messed up her life had been. "Did you love him?"

'Messed up,' I thought, 'No, Sir. Her life has been a craptastic shitshow of epic fucking proportions. Honestly, I would like to know what fucking moronic bastard ordered this shitastical fuckfest for my Queen! I'd like to fucking throat punch him.'

She shook her head. "No. My mother sat it all up. Literally walked into the house Friday afternoon and said, 'You are getting married on Monday at 9.' He was getting deployed and she thought he would be a good fit for me, that she would get grands out of the deal. She didn't find out he was fixed until he was already gone. That is where I learned to keep my hair really short. He used to drag me around by it and scream about all of the things I did. The next day he would scream and drag me around by it to yell about all the stuff I didn't get done."

"So it was more or less arranged?"

"Yeah. After that, I met the asshole. The day he left, I had just buried a brother, and I had lost my job; all on my birthday. After all that, I fell into a deep depression. To the point where I would wonder sometimes why I was still breathing. It was in that place that I saw him. It was no more than his eyes, the exact shade of my coffee, and that voice, but still; if not for him..." she trailed off, a haunted look in her eyes.

After a few minutes of her staring off into space, I prodded, "If not for him?"

She turned and looked at me, "I wouldn't be here. I would have cut ties with this world and willingly walked right into that darkness. I can remember him telling me once, 'Don't you give up. Don't you dare give up. Get up, keep moving.' It was those eyes though, watching them seem to burn in the darkness. They stayed with me so much that I drew them at least a thousand times."

"Really?"

"Yep. Dark eyes that burn," she chuckled. "Got called crazy for that one, too. 'Why do you always draw the exact same thing, ya crazy bitch? How about a tree or a nice mountain. Why is it always those damned eyes, Not that a worthless bitch like you can draw anyway.' So yeah, there's that."

"Hold it. She actually called you worthless?"

Bryn just nodded. "Multiple times, and ugly quite a few times. At the end with the ex, she told me, 'I hate that when I, and she stressed the 'I', put a block in your path, you seem to dance around it and go off into the woods and still end up on the other side. That you whip off of the beaten path, going God knows where, on some barely visible game trail, and somehow still come out on the other side, just where you meant to be'. She said nothing pissed her off more than my ability to adapt."

'That's my Ghostie,' I thought as I smiled proudly. 'Her ability to see things others miss, explodes lower minds.'

Now, I have seen pictures of her mom and old photos of Bryn when she was younger. Let me tell you, when she was young, Bryn was coltishly pretty before becoming ethereal. Not that you could tell it now. Now, she jokes that she traded looks for brains about the time she got her doctorate.

"So, how did you end up with Clark?"

"He was there and I was getting tired of waiting, tired of my Auntie's trying to set me up with whatever boy they could find. One tried to set me up with her ex-nephew. That was nothing but awkward. We are still good friends, almost family. He has said before, 'I love you to bits, but that is icky, you are like a sister to me. Now, please, go throw on a skirt, you have amazing legs and should show them off.' That boy can turn up the girlfriend vibe in 3 seconds...flat.

I know someone who can do that. Weird.

"In the end, I got tired of the pitying looks I would get at the family things. Truth be told, when I told him to either commit or get out, I thoroughly expected him to take off at a run, like he couldn't get away fast enough. Before I knew what had happened, he told everyone I had proposed and picked a Saturday. After that, it was a whirlwind and I almost took off."

"Took off? Eloped?"

She snickered. "No. Ran away. Far away."

"Oh. So you almost pulled a runner?"

"Oh yeah. Had my bestie stand up with me because I knew that if Haka showed up and objected, he would have knocked Clark to the floor to give me time to run."

'I very nearly did show up.'

I thought back to what I said when he finally left.

"What did I say?" I stood there, leaning on the doorway, arms crossed over my chest, fingers tapping on my bicep. The look on my face was thoroughly parental.

"That it would never work."

"And....."

"You were right, I was wrong, I am sorry."

"You gonna listen to me from now on?" My face was passive, but there if she had looked she would have seen the anger in my eyes. I wasn't mad at her, I was more than a little upset with him, though.

"Yes, Dear."

"Good Girl. I'll be home as soon as I can." I cupped her face, kissed her forehead, and said, "Don't do it again. Next time you won't get away with it, my stubborn Wolf."

"Next time?"

I was turning to head back to my body, "First one doesn't count. It was arranged. This one, you got swept up in. Don't do it again. Now, go to sleep."

I had to breathe a minute against the anger building in my chest. Then, I went back to the story.

"You call him 'Haka'? That's cute."

"Yeah, he's Heyhaka, the Elk. Haka, for short. Then there is Sweet Pea, and the occasional Assbag."

"And is he often a jerk?"

"Nah. Only when he is making promises he has no intentions to keep."

'Listen here, Lady! I fully intend to keep them when they are made, Woman!'

"I really don't think he would make them if he didn't intend on keeping them, Sissie. Sometimes, circumstance gets in the way, and then they don't get the focus they deserve. How does he phrase it?"

"All he says is 'Soon'."

I laughed. "The word 'soon' is not a promise. It's an open guarantee."

"What?"

"It's a half promise. He can't put a time on it so he just says soon. You know, sometimes you can be kind of dense."

'Exactly. You are kind of thick sometimes, Darling.'

Bryn's cheeks pinked. "Aww, shut the fuck up," She laughed.

"You've got a potty mouth!"

My jaw dropped. 'Naughty.'

"Like you didn't know or don't have one of your own. Has he not told you the extent of my sailor's mouth?"

"He doesn't know that I know you. I get to hear about everything from both sides. Kinda makes me wanna poke my ear drums out sometimes."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. You two are fuckin' perfect for each other."

'I guess we are, huh?'

About that time, the kids started waking up. Davidd was first, followed by Mattie, and then Darryn. I was sitting on the couch, getting the walkthrough of how to turn on the cartoon channels when Mattie climbed up next to me and curled up in my side.

"Morning, Munchkin," I said cheerfully.

She sagged against me and whispered, "Morning, Uncle Joey. Can I have some new milk?"

I was taken aback by the simplicity of the request. "Shouldn't you be asking your mom for that?"

"I would but Daddy called and him and mama got into another fight."

'And that just cashed out my good night.', I thought as I could have sworn I heard a knock at my door.

A-N:) Please don't shoot the messenger. Spirit put up some of the tags. Lol.

#my writing #original writing #past life #twin flames #soul connection #yin and yang #twin souls #soul mates #soul mate #soulmates #soulmate #monsta x fic #kihyun fic #fanfic #fan fiction

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