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obsidiancreates · 4 months

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Bad Day

Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic of the SBPD, doesn't have bad days. He had exciting days, setback days, annoying days- but never bad days.

Shawn Spencer, the ADHD and CPTSD riddled human man, does have bad days. He had them Fairly often from ages 0 to 8, Frequently from ages 8 to 18, and Near Daily from ages 18 to 28.

But he'd tucked the Regular Human Man away when the Head Psychic became a real, viable option, so if you asked him "How often do you have bad days?" he would put a finger to his head, smile, and say he never has bad days because he can see them coming to avoid.

At least, he usually would.

Today though. Today started with a groggy morning escape from a Greatest Hits Roll of his most upsetting moments in life posing as "dreams", then an empty fridge, his go-to cafe being closed for a health code violation, the office fridge being empty, and finally a voicemail from his dad scolding him about some thing. A case, maybe, Shawn doesn't know- he's already lived a full day, as far as he's concerned, and now it's time to lay in the empty office and reset.

So he lays down on the couch, closes the blinds, and lays his slightly-pounding head on the armrest.

Running through woods, sweating in a trunk, failing the math test and knowing the bully did too, gun to his face, gun to Gus's face, tape on his Mom's face-

"Shawn!"

Shawn's eyes snap open, taking a breath like a barb that stabs the back of his throat. Great, he slept with his mouth open and now his throat is sore and dry. Just what he needed today.

"The Chief just called me, she's been trying to reach you all morning." Gus picks up the office phone, and tsks. "How many times do I have to tell you which way the phone goes in the charger?"

"You could try telling me when I care." Shawn throws his arm over his eyes.

"Wha- Shawn!"

"Wha, Shawn!"

"You better knock that off before we get to the station."

"Sure, Dad."

"I'm serious, Shawn! Get up! She said it's important!"

"She always says it's important."

"And it usually is!"

"And sometimes it's her needing a babysitter!"

"Fine, then I'll go get the case, and keep your part of the check."

"... Fine."

The ride in the Blueberry is quiet. Gus keeps looking over at Shawn, and it makes his skin prickle. It's not the first time- Shawn loves attention, but sometimes someone looks at him in just the wrong way at the wrong time and it feels worse than having a weapon waved at him.

They pull up, and they walk in, and Lassie and Jules are already in the office.

"Gentlemen, nice of you to finally join us," The Chief says, her controlled tone the perfect example of Passive Aggressive.

"Sorry, Chief, it's just that we have lives sometimes."

She pauses her flipping through files, and looks up at Shawn with narrowed eyes and lips pressed thin. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Gus begin his Lamaze breathing, Jules's eyes widen as she dips her head, and Lassie smirk a bit at the oncoming trouble Shawn's surely just invited for himself.

"Well, Mr. Spencer, so do we, but-"

"But you're city employees, aaand we aren't." Gus elbows Shawn, hard, and Shawn just grits his teeth and pushes back.

Lassie looks at him with equal amounts shock and wicked delight, Jules with just plain shock. The Chief blinks, letting out a huff of what could be laughter, but probably isn't.

"I don't know what's got you in a mood, Mr. Spencer, but I suggest you sort yourself out now. This case is looking like a high-profile murder at the moment."

"Looking like?"

"We've got blood, a broken-in door, and a knife missing from the residence. The body is missing, but our victim was one of the top, tobacco production CEOs in the entire west coast, and he had enough enemies to fill the station and more."

Lassie whistles. "Impressive."

"And time-consuming. We need-"

"Me to get a reading on the suspects, right, can I see the crime scene photos?" Shawn grabs them without an answer. Jules gasps like she just witnessed a stabbing- or is about to, which she very well may, given the look The Chief gives him. If Shawn's head didn't hurt, and he didn't feel like every emotion he's ever felt in his entire life were all compacting into one horrible apathetic brick in his chest, maybe he would care enough to scale back a little.

He flips through. Standard crime scene, terrible photos, worse than the time the murderer was the one taking them. "You should fire whoever took these. I mean it."

"Shawn!"

"Shh." He waves his hand in Gus's face. Knife missing from the knife block, no evidence of it anywhere else in the house, blood on the bedroom rug, smearing suggests a body being dragged, but ooooh, what's that?

"Who checked this crime scene?"

"We did." Lassie looks at the photos over Shawn's shoulder- well, head. "Why?"

"We were really thorough."

"Do we both think that word means the same thing?" He doesn't want to say it, but it slips out, and Jules looks hurt instead of shocked this time. But he's not wrong.

"The victim isn't the victim, he's the killer. Oh, I see it." he half-heartedly waves a hand and closes his eyes. "Yeah, the blood spray, the victim was attacked by someone laying in the bed. And this one-" He flips to another photo in the stack, eyes still closed but knowing it's right. "-This one shows the knife block, I can see there are no grooves in that slot of the block, it wasn't regularly removed and returned but all the others were. I think our 'victim' knew someone was after him and probably slept with that knife under his pillow."

"We did find a journal with some paranoid ramblings," Lassie mumbles.

Shawn opens his eyes. "Seriously?"

"Well, they were written like a whackjob. Just pages of the same thing over and over."

"What thing, Lassie?"

"I don't know, some bull about being watched and being ready."

"Like maybe by an enemy? And being ready to kill to defend himself?"

"Geez, Spencer, what is wrong with you today?"

"You're right, I'm sorry. Clearly, we should throw out all the important evidence because it seems just too helpful!"

"Watch it-"

"That is the usual procedure around here, right? Just sort of miss and ignore evidence until I show up? Follow all your worst leads first?"

"That's it!" Lassie grabs Shawn by the collar.

"Detective!"

"Carlton!"

"Shawn, say you're sorry!"

"You've been an ass before Spencer but this is- CHRIST!"

Lassie yanks his hand away, and Shawn makes a face as he wipes at his teeth with his shirt. The fabric comes away slightly red.

Jules pries Lassie's good hand off the hurt one, and then looks at Shawn like she's never even seen him before. "Do you even know what you just did?!"

"Assaulted an officer!" Lassie growls, accepting tissues from The Chief to press to his bleeding knuckles.

"Not my fault you have thin skin. ... Literally."

Lassie reaches for his gun.

"Enough!" The Chief slams both hands on her desk. "Mr. Spencer, out. I am letting you off with a warning this time but if you ever, bite one of my officers again-"

"He won't," Gus says quickly. "Right Shawn?"

"Did everyone miss the part where he tried to choke me?"

"Shawn!"

"Right, sorry, I'm sorry, everyone, I forgot that Lassie gets special privileges when it comes to police brutality."

"That's a serious accusation, Shawn!" Jules is backing away now, standing closer to Lassie's side.

"Wow, I had no idea! It's not like I know everything about police procedure because I was drilled on it my whole life!" Shawn knows he's out of control now- he knows, he hates it, this isn't fun out of control, this is bad out of control, this is that Out Of Control that pushed him to steal a car and run away without goodbyes and try to just burn every bridge. It's building up, brick after brick of compressed bad days and weeks and years, and it's not fair to take it out here and now but he can't help it.

"Mr. Spencer, you are officially withdrawn from this case."

"Got it, uh, good luck, detectives, with actually arresting the right person."

"MCNAB!" The Chief's shout makes Shawn flinch even through the foggy, half-aware state he's slipped into. He's just... mad.

Buzz comes running in, almost slipping, barely avoiding hitting his head on the door. The laugh that sneaks out of Shawn is ugly even to him, and he hates it, hates everything he's said and done this whole day, but it happens away and Jules looks at him with unfiltered contempt and Lassie looks ready to actually kill him and Gus looks like he might help out.

"Escort Mr. Spencer out, of this station."

Buzz points at Shawn, mouth slightly agape as his eyes travel over to Lassie cradling his hand and Jules now refusing to look at Shawn at all and Gus holding Shawn like he's a misbehaving dog.

"Careful, I bite." He's not really in control of his own mouth anymore. He feels more like he's dreaming now that he did earlier. Is this the part that isn't real? Is this the nightmare? God, he hopes so.

"Oh, geez." Buzz hesitates for a second, and then tentatively puts an arm behind Shawn. Shawn smiles at him. The look in Buzz's eyes makes him think there's still some blood on his teeth.

He jerks at Buzz a bit. Buzz only startles, but Lassie, Jules, and The Chief all brace to get in the way. Why did he do that? This is getting dangerous. He should just stop.

"Um, just, this way." Buzz puts only a little pressure on his back, but it sends a shock through Shawn's system like a car battery. He has a full-body convulsion away from the touch, and in the shocked silence that follows it he shoulder-checks Buzz as he storms out the door through the station. Eyes are on him, prickling and stinging at his skin, brick on top of brick and-

... Ow.

He blinks at the blood on the rough wall of the station lobby, and looks at the mottled skin on his knuckles.

Gus catches up to him and takes in the scene. The whole station is probably staring too. A numb feeling in his hand starts to spread, but it's not numb-numb, it's pain-numb.

"I think I broke it." His voice sounds jarringly solid and steady to him.

"Yeah." Gus approaches carefully. "Are you uh... feeling better?"

"... No." Shawn clenches his fist and watches the skin stretch, fresh blood beading across the wounds. That should be bothering him. It should be snapping him out of it. It's not.

"Are you gonna do something if I try to touch you right now?"

"... I think so."

"So this is bad-bad."

"And I thought I was the observant one."

Gus tsks. "Will you go to the car? Without anyone making you?"

"... Maybe." He wants to say no. He's just barely holding back from saying no, from calling the car stupid and pointless like it's driver and he doesn't want to think that but he's barely here right now and it's just ringing over and over in his head and-

"Can you stop yourself from punch the car?"

"Yes!" It comes out a snap, a shout, and Gus backs up, and Shawn feels sick but he can't seem to do anything about it.

Gus is about to say something more but Shawn is moving and slamming the door behind him and he could get shot he could get shot but he does and he avoid The Blueberry and just walks. Away from the station, his apartment, the office-

His phone chimes and his hand is shaking as he rips it out of his pocket and throws it against a wall, gritting his teeth so hard as he walks away from it shattering that he breaks a tooth as well. He hears it happen. The phone is more of a good solid bam! while the tooth is a smaller crrrk!

The wandering is the most dreamlike he's ever felt. Just passing buildings and people and seething over nothing and going nowhere.

And then all of a sudden he's Back.

He blinks, and stops, and sucks in a breath, and it all crashes down on him.

The bricks blocking up his chest crumble, their dust clogging his lungs, and he can't breath as it all replays with a sharper clarity than he'd had in the actual moments. He sinks against a wall in some... somewhere, and stares at a tree while it all plays over and over and his head screams to go back and face it an apologize while his everything-else screams to just leave, just go and keep going and never look back-

It's nearly dark out when he sees The Blueberry come into view, but he just stays like he is, arms on his knees and head leaned against the dirty concrete wall. Gus slams the door as he gets out. Shawn feels a flinch try to make it's way to the surface, but now he's in a different dream. It's not so mad, but it's still not good. He's still not here. He was, for a few minutes, and then he'd sat down and... when exactly did he go away again?

"Dude, you have problems." Gus is sweating, breathing hard, eyes bloodshot. "You have serious problems!"

Shawn would nod, but his neck is stiff. He hadn't really noticed until now.

"... Get in the car." Gus's voice is a little softer this time. "I'm taking you to see someone tomorrow, I mean it. ... Chief's orders. It's that or we never work for them again."

"That's fine with me." It's not fine. It's not fine! Why'd that come out of him? He didn't say that.

"No, it isn't." Gus moves out of his vision. Shawn hears fabric against wall, so Gus probably sat down next to him. "... What is this, Shawn?"

Shawn swallows. His throat is dry. He hadn't noticed that, either. No, not hadn't noticed- hadn't been capable of feeling it. Like how he can't feel his body, really, and can't seem to control his words, and can't even control where his thoughts are going.

He has to try a few times, to be able to say anything. To even pry his dry, cracked lips open. To even wrestle back control of his vocal cords. To even identify the problem.

He licks his lips, and Shawn Spencer the ADHD and CPTSD riddled human man, speaks.

"... I'm having a bad day."

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #Is this somewhat projection/a vent? Yes #Do I struggle with dissociative episodes like these anymore? No. Thank god.#fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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bs2sjh · 4 months

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May 28 - Empty

Exam is done! Results in July. Lots of coursework to catch up on with my other module, but that's my first exam in over 20 years out of the way! Yay! Another one in September, but ho-hum. Anyway, this was going to be a lot more depressing than it turned out. Blame it on post-exam euphoria. 😂

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"We're really sorry." Sherlock didn't react. No scathing deductions. No insults. He simply allowed John to speak for them all and then be led away, a hand in his leading him out of the house that he had hoped held all his future plans.

"Come on, love, let's get out of here." Sherlock stood by the car as John loaded an upset Rose into the back. The hollow feeling was back, drowning him once again.

"I'm sorry, John."

"Why? You've done nothing wrong. It's those sods in there, pulling out of a contract once they've signed." John was angry. Again. Everything had reset to zero.

"I don't know what to do. I can't go back." Empty rooms with only silence for company. Sherlock wanted to run, hide.

"Hey. Look at me." John's hand on his face made him look up. "It'll be okay. I'm not leaving you alone again. You can stay at mine for a while."

"There's not enough room."

"I know, but we'll make do until we find something else." John's hand slipped down to Sherlock's neck, pulling him gently until their foreheads touched. "We're doing this together. As a family. Yeah?"

Sherlock nodded, closing his eyes, relishing the closeness. "It's time to stop denying what we are."

'Finally', Sherlock thought as John's lips gave his the lightest brush.

221 words is such a squeeze to get what I want in. But just managed it. Again. Three more days to go, and we might have some light coming into this tunnel. Yay!

This is part of a multi-part fic for @calaisreno's May Prompt Challenge. All can be found here at a03!

#sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock #221b baker street #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #may prompt challenge 2024 #may prompts 2024 #221b ficlet #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #angst #Prompt: empty

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the-torchwood-archive · 8 months

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Owen's Age

In Martha's medical log, she states that Owen is 27 during the events of Reset. We're going to talk about why we should stop accepting that as canon and start referring to Owen as being 34 during Reset.

His birthday of February 14th is always constant and isn't something I dispute. We are given two dates for his year of birth, 1974 or 1980.

1980 is on screen in Reset and I believe Exit Wounds, as well as in text published after season two. The fact that this is well documented makes it hard to argue with, and yet I will.

1974 is only ever mentioned once, in an email that was written and published on the TW website alongside Dead Man Walking. Keep in mind that this would have been written before DMW aired, which suggests that 1980 wasn't in the script that the writers were given. A few days after airing, the date in the email was changed to 1980 to match what we saw on TV.

Let's take a quick look at a Owen timeline.

Born either 1974 or 1980.

Began training as a doctor in 1994. He would either be 14 or 20.

Late 2000/early 2001 he walked out on his college girlfriend in London. He would be either 20 or 26.

In March 2001, Owen is a qualified Doctor in Cardiff. He would be either 21 or 27.

Owen was employed by Cardiff General between at least 2000 and 2002. He would have been either 20-22 or 26-28.

Lucy Marmer is brought to Owen's attention in September 2001, six months after Owen qualified. Owen would be either 21 or 27.

Katie dies in 2005, which would make Owen either 25 or 31.

Owen is hired by Torchwood in 2006, making him either 26 or 32.

Reset is set after June 2008, making Owen either 28 or 34.

Having Owen be born in 1974 puts his timeline into some form of sense. It makes him a year older than Tosh, four years older than Gwen, and nine years older than Ianto, which sits well with the dynamics. He in no way feels five years younger than Tosh, two years younger than Gwen, and three years older than Ianto.

In addition, Burn himself is born in 1974 and I frankly don't think he looks six years younger than he actually is.

I will now take questions from the audience.

#torchwood #owen harper #meta

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minijenn · 23 days

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Universe Falls Future Chapter Titles

I'm on a roll with planning today so have the never before seen UFF chapter title list!

Chapter 1: Happily Ever After

Chapter 2: Other Friends

Chapter 3: Your New Best Friend

Chapter 4: Who We Are

Chapter 5: No Matter What

Chapter 6: Independent Together

Chapter 7: Drift Away

Chapter 8: True Kinda Love

Chapter 9: Change

Chapter 10: Found

Chapter 11: Reset

Chapter 12: Reboot

Chapter 13: Little Homeschool

Chapter 14: Crushed

Chapter 15: Interdimensional Pen Pals

Chapter 16: Guidance

Chapter 17: Sunshine Gem

Chapter 18: Rose Buds

Chapter 19: Fashion Maven

Chapter 20: Pines Productions

Chapter 21: Volleyball

Chapter 22: Stepping Stone

Chapter 23: Bluebird

Chapter 24: Redemption Squad

Chapter 25: Snow Day

Chapter 26: Trifusion Traditions

Chapter 27: Why So Blue

Chapter 28: Little Graduation

Chapter 29: Artistically Challenged

Chapter 30: Prickly Pair

Chapter 31: Equilateral

Chapter 32: Bismuth Casual

Chapter 33: Upheaval

Chapter 34: Never Alone

Chapter 35: Never Forever

Chapter 36: Never Together

Chapter 37: Growing Pains

Chapter 38: Mr. Universe

Chapter 39: The Stan With a Plan

Chapter 40: Night Shift

Chapter 41: Fragments

Chapter 42: Homeworld Bound

Chapter 43: Everything's Fine

Chapter 44: I Am My Monster

Epilogue: The Future

#in case you haven't figurd it out im just putting the movie ino the first ten chapters #no need for it to be a seperate fic tbh #jen rambles #universe falls #uff

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thehangerson · 10 months

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doctor who nuwho masterlist

ive been meaning to post this on tumblr for a while and keep forgetting but a few years ago i made a nuwho / whoniverse watchlist including the spinoff shows in release order and now seems like the time to share it! i know ive seen theres a lot of new fans watching from 2005 on (from what im seeing mostly gomens fans. hi gomens fans) and a lot of ppl coming back to the show or rewatching in lieu of the new eps with david and catherine! so heres the list!

the full list masterdoc typed out for your copy-pasting pleasure is below the text break, but heres some links for those of you who are spreadsheet/doc fans.

google sheet checklist version

(the spreadsheet includes some tws and cws, which i update as i rewatch some things. if you have any i'm missing that you think should be included, please send me an ask or leave a comment and i'll add it!)

masterlist:

blue- Doctor Who, red- Doctor Who specials, green- Torchwood, purple- Sarah Jane Adventures, orange- Class

2005

01x01- Rose (03/26/2005)

01x02- The End of the World (4/02)

01x03- The Unquiet Dead (04/09)

01x04- Aliens of London (04/16)

01x05- World War Three (04/23)

01x06- Dalek (04/30)

01x07- The Long Game (05/07)

01x08- Father’s Day (05/14)

01x09- The Empty Child (05/21)

01x10- The Doctor Dances (05/28)

01x11- Boom Town (06/04)

01x12- Bad Wolf (06/11)

01x13- The Parting of the Ways (06/18)

The Christmas Invasion (12/25)

2006

02x01- New Earth (04/15/2006)

02x02- Tooth and Claw (04/22)

02x03- School Reunion (04/29)

02x04- The Girl in the Fireplace (05/06)

02x05- Rise of the Cybermen (05/13)

02x06- Age of Steel (05/20)

02x07- The Idiot’s Lantern (05/27)

02x08- Impossible Planet (06/03)

02x09- Satan Pit (06/10)

02x10- Love & Monsters (06/17)

02x11- Fear Her (06/24)

02x12- Army of Ghosts (07/01)

02x13-Doomsday (07/08)

01x01- Everything Changes (10/22)

01x02- Day One (10/22)

01x03- Ghost Machine (10/29)

01x04- Cyberwoman (11/05)

01x05- Small Worlds (11/12)

01x06- Countrycide (11/19)

01x07- Greeks Bearing Gifts (11/26)

01x08-They Keep Killing Suzie (12/03)

01x09-Random Shoes (12/10)

01x10- Out of Time (12/17)

01x11- Combat (12/24)

The Runaway Bride (12/25)

2007

01x12- Captain Jack Harkness (01/01/2007)

01x13- End of Days (01/01)

01x01- Invasion of the Bane (01/01)

03x01-Smith and Jones (03/31)

03x02- The Shakespeare Code (04/07)

03x03- Gridlock (04/14)

03x04- Daleks in Manhattan (04/21)

03x05- Evolution of the Daleks (04/28)

03x06- The Lazarus Experiment (05/05)

03x07- 42 (05/19)

03x08- Human Nature (05/26)

03x09- The Family of Blood (06/02)

03x10- Blink (06/09)

03x11- Utopia (06/16)

03x12- The Sound of Drums (06/23)

03x13- Last of the Time Lords (06/30)

01x02- Revenge of the Slitheen Part 1 (09/24)

01x03- Revenge of the Slitheen Part 2 (10/01)

01x04- Eye of the Gorgon Part 1 (10/08)

01x05- Eye of the Gorgon Part 2 (10/15)

01x06- Warriors of Kudlak Part 1 (10/22)

01x07- Warriors of Kudlak Part 2 (10/29)

01x08- Whatever Happened to Sarah Jane? Part 1 (11/05)

01x09- Whatever Happened to Sarah Jane? Part 2 (11/12)

01x10- The Lost Boy Part 1 (11/12)

01x11- The Lost Boy Part 2 (11/19)

Voyage of the Damned (12/25)

2008

02x01- Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (01/16/2008)

02x02- Sleeper (01/23)

02x03- To the Last Man (01/30)

02x04- Meat (02/06)

02x05- Adam (02/13)

02x06- Reset (02/13)

02x07- Dead Man Walking (02/20)

02x08- A Day in the Death (02/27)

02x09- Something Borrowed (03/05)

02x10- From Out of the Rain (03/12)

02x11- Adrift (03/19)

02x12- Fragments (03/21)

02x13- Exit Wounds (04/04)

04x01- Partners in Crime (04/05)

04x02- The Fires of Pompeii (04/12)

04x03- Planet of the Ood (04/19)

04x04- The Sontaran Stratagem (04/26)

04x05- The Poison Sky (05/03)

04x06- The Doctor’s Daughter (05/10)

04x07- The Unicorn and the Wasp (05/17)

04x08- Silence in the Library (05/31)

04x09- Forest of the Dead (06/07)

04x10- Midnight (06/14)

04x11- Turn Left (06/21)

04x12- The Stolen Earth (06/28)

04x13- Journey’s End (07/05)

02x01- The Last Sontaran Part 1 (09/29)

02x02- The Last Sontaran Part 2 (09/29)

02x03- The Day of the Clown Part 1 (10/06)

02x04- The Day of the Clown Part 2 (10/13)

02x05- Secrets of the Stars Part 1 (10/20)

02x06- Secrets of the Stars Part 2 (10/27)

02x07- The Mark of the Berserker Part 1 (11/03)

02x08- The Mark of the Berserker Part 2 (11/10)

02x09- The Temptation of Sarah Jane Smith Part 1 (11/170

02x10- The Temptation of Sarah Jane Smith Part 2 (11/24)

02x11- Enemy of the Bane Part 1 (12/01)

02x12- Enemy of the Bane Part 2 (12/08)

The Next Doctor (12/25)

2009

Planet of the Dead (04/11/2009)

03x01- Day One (07/06)

03x02- Day Two (07/07)

03x03- Day Three (07/08)

03x04- Day Four (07/09)

03x05- Day Five (07/10)

03x01- Prisoner of the Judoon Part 1 (10/15)

03x02- Prisoner of the Judoon Part 2 (10/16)

03x03- The Mad Woman in the Attic Part 1 (10/22)

03x04- The Mad Woman in the Attic Part 2 (10/23)

03x05- The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith Part 1 (10/29)

03x06-The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith Part 2 (10/30)

03x07- The Eternity Trap Part 1 (11/05)

03x08- The Eternity Trap Part 2 (11/06)

03x09- Mona Lisa’s Revenge Part 1 (11/12)

03x10- Mona Lisa’s Revenge Part 2 (11/13)

04x16- The Waters of Mars (11/15)

03x11- The Gift Part 1 (11/19)

03x12- The Gift Part 2 (11/20)

The End of Time Part 1 (12/25)

2010

The End of Time Part 2 (01/01/2010)

05x01- The Eleventh Hour (04/03)

05x02- The Beast Below (04/10)

05x03- Victory of the Daleks (04/17)

05x04- The Time of Angels (04/24)

05x05- Flesh and Stone (05/01)

05x06- The Vampires of Venice (05/08)

05x07- Amy’s Choice (05/15)

05x08- The Hungry Earth (05/22)

05x09- Cold Blood (05/29)

05x10- Vincent and the Doctor (06/05)

05x11- The Lodger (06/12)

05x12- The Pandorica Opens (06/19)

05x13-The Big Bang (06/26)

04x01- The Nightmare Man Part 1 (10/11)

04x02- The Nightmare Man Part 2 (10/12)

04x03- The Vault of Secrets Part 1 (10/18)

04x04- The Vault of Secrets Part 2 (10/19)

04x05- Death of the Doctor Part 1 (10/25)

04x06- Death of the Doctor Part 2 (10/26)

04x07- The Empty Planet Part 1 (11/01)

04x08- The Empty Planet Part 2 (11/02)

04x09- Lost in Time Part 1 (11/08)

04x10- Lost in Time Part 2 (11/09)

04x11- Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith Part 1 (11/15)

04x12- Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith Part 2 (11/16)

A Christmas Carol (12/25)

2011

06x01- The Impossible Astronaut (04/23/2011)

06x02- Day of the Moon (04/30)

06x03- The Curse of the Black Spot (05/07)

06x04- The Doctor’s Wife (05/14)

06x05- The Rebel Flesh (05/21)

06x06- The Almost People (05/28)

06x07- A Good Man Goes to War (06/04)

04x01- The New World (07/08)

04x02- Rendition (07/15)

04x03- Dead of Night (07/22)

04x04- Escape to L.A. (07/29)

04x05- The Categories of Life (08/05)

04x06- The Middle Men (08/12)

04x07- Immortal Sins (08/19)

04x08- End of the Road (08/26)

06x08- Let’s Kill Hitler (08/27)

04x09- The Gathering (09/02)

06x09- Night Terrors (09/03)

04x10- The Blood Line (09/09)

06x10- The Girl Who Waited (09/10)

06x11- The God Complex (09/17)

06x12- Closing Time (09/24)

06x13- The Wedding of River Song (10/01)

05x01- Sky Part 1 (10/03)

05x02- Sky Part 2 (10/04)

05x03- The Curse of Clyde Langer Part 1 (10/10)

05x04- The Curse of Clyde Langer Part 2 (10/11)

05x05- The Man Who Never Was Part 1 (10/17)

05x06- The Man Who Never Was Part 2 (10/18)

The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe (12/25)

2012

07x01- Asylum of the Daleks (09/01/2012)

07x02- Dinosaurs of a Spaceship (09/08)

07x03- A Town Called Mercy (09/15)

07x04- The Power of Three (09/22)

07x05- The Angels Take Manhattan (09/29)

The Snowmen (12/25)

2013

07x06- The Bells of Saint John (03/30/2013)

07x07- The Rings of Akhaten (04/06)

07x08- Cold War (04/13)

07x09- Hide (04/20)

07x10- Journey to the Center of the TARDIS (04/27)

07x11- The Crimson Horror (05/04)

07x12- Nightmare in Silver (05/11)

07x13- The Name of the Doctor (05/18)

The Day of the Doctor (11/23)

The Time of the Doctor (12/25)

2014

08x01- Deep Breath (08/23/2014)

08x02- Into the Dalek (08/30)

08x03- Robot of Sherwood (09/06)

08x04- Listen (09/13)

08x05- Time Heist (09/20)

08x06- The Caretaker (09/27)

08x07- Kill the Moon (10/04)

08x08- Mummy on the Orient Express (10/11)

08x09- Flatline (10/18)

08x10- In the Forest of the Night (10/25)

08x11- Dark Water (11/01)

08x12- Death in Heaven (11/08)

Last Christmas (12/25)

2015

09x01- The Magician’s Apprentice (09/19/2015)

09x02- The Witch’s Familiar (09/26)

09x03- Under the Lake (10/03)

09x04- Before the Flood (10/10)

09x05- The Girl Who Died (10/17)

09x06- The Woman Who Lived (10/24)

09x07- The Zygon Invasion (10/31)

09x08- The Zygon Inversion (11/07)

09x09- Sleep No More (11/14)

09x10- Face the Raven (11/21)

09x11- Heaven Sent (11/28)

09x12- Hell Bent (12/05)

The Husbands of River Song (12/25)

2016

01x01- For Tonight We Might Die (10/22/2016)

01x02- The Coach with the Dragon Tattoo (10/22)

01x03- Nightvisiting (10/29)

01x04- Co-Owner of a Lonely Heart (11/05)

01x05- Brave-ish Heart (11/12)

01x06- Detained (11/19)

01x07- The Metaphysical Engine, or What Quill Did (11/26)

01x08- The Lost (12/03)

The Return of Doctor Mysterio (12/25)

2017

10x01- The Pilot (04/15/2017)

10x02- Smile (04/22)

10x03- Thin Ice (04/29)

10x04- Knock Knock (05/06)

10x05- Oxygen (05/13)

10x06- Extremis (05/20)

10x07- The Pyramid at the End of the World (05/27)

10x08- The Lie of the Land (06/03)

10x09- Empress of Mars (06/10)

10x10- The Eaters of Light (06/17)

10x11- World Enough and Time (06/24)

10x12- The Doctor Falls (07/01)

Twice Upon a Time (12/25)

2018

11x01- The Woman Who Fell to Earth (10/07/2018)

11x02- The Ghost Monument (10/14)

11x03- Rosa (10/21)

11x04- Arachnids in the UK (10/28)

11x05- The Tsuranga Conundrum (11/04)

11x06- Demons of the Punjab (11/11)

11x07- Kerblam! (11/18)

11x08- The Witchfinders (11/25)

11x09- It Takes You Away (12/02)

11x10- The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos (12/09)

2019

Resolution (01/01/2019)

2020

12x01- Spyfall, Part 1 (01/01/2020)

12x02- Spyfall, Part 2 (01/05)

12x03- Orphan 55 (01/12)

12x04- Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror (01/19)

12x05- Fugitive of the Judoon (01/26)

12x06- Praxeus (02/02)

12x07- Can You Hear Me? (02/09)

12x08- The Haunting of Villa Diodati (02/16)

12x09- Ascension of the Cybermen (02/23)

12x10- The Timeless Children (03/01)

2021

Revolution of the Daleks (01/01/2021)

13x01- The Halloween Apocalypse (10/31)

13x02- War of the Sontarans (11/7)

13x03- Once, Upon Time (11/14)

13x04- Village of the Angels (11/21)

13x05- Survivors of the Flux (11/28)

13x06- The Vanquishers (12/5)

2022

Eve of the Daleks(01/01/2022)

Legend of the Seal Devils(4/17)

The Power of the Doctor(10/23)

2023

The Star Beast(11/25/2023)

Wild Blue Yonder(12/2/2023)

The Giggle(12/9/2023)

The Church on Ruby Road(12/25/2023)

2024

TBA

#doctor who #nuwho #torchwood #sarah jane adventures #sja #whoniverse

81 notes · View notes

ryverbind · 2 months

Text

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Composer [28]

My favorite analogy to use in times of uncertainty comes from my dad. He once told me, "We're just two little frogs on a lone lily pad, floating down some hidden bayou in the swamps of New Orleans, Ducks. And that's okay, because at least we have each other."

It stuck with me throughout most of my life. When the depression was really rough, when the anxiety hit its peak, I'd scribble that line in notebooks. In pencil on my walls, erase the words when I felt whole again. Etch it onto my arm in pen, then scrub away at my skin for hours in the shower that same night.

For that reason, I feel like we can attach ourselves not only to people, but to words too. Which is why I find myself debating going and writing those words again and again and again in the emptiness of my apartment.

The week leading up to Ash's departure to Anaheim flew by. She and I unpacked, organized, and lazed about our home without seeing Sal, Larry, Todd, or Neil all that much.

That was fine, she and I preferred to figure things out on our own anyway.

The issue came with the moment Ash left in the early morning on Friday, after we'd had Sal and Larry over the night before.

I was left to my own devices, which meant all I could do was think about how much I've been drowning in myself. For months.

What's weighed on me most is Sal. I was never supposed to like him— it was never supposed to be more than simple attraction. I feel like I've failed myself and dragged Sal into something he wants nothing to do with. Feeling this way seems so cruel. He's his own person, he has his own shit to deal with. Why did I let it get this far?

For the entire day, I've sat here and told myself— scolded myself— that I need to calm things down and I need to get over this. Not just for me, but for him. Situationships, friends with benefits... those types of things do not end in relationships. They don't turn into happily ever afters. Me and Sal are nothing alike— I wouldn't even dare consider a relationship but if my feelings go far enough, I just might start to.

There needs to be some separation for myself. I need to put some distance, but I just don't want to. I genuinely like being around him.

Oh, this is such a clusterfuck.

I lay on me and Ash's couch, staring out of the huge windows that lead to the balcony as the sun goes down. It's evening. The silence is loud around me, messes with my senses. I keep thinking I see things out of the corner of my eye and every creak or crack of people moving around above or below me sets my heart racing.

Ash informed me that she'd be back by tomorrow morning, which is fine. I streamed for a few hours, ate dinner, then did some shopping to snuff out my Sal-centered thoughts, and then the unsettling quiet. I just didn't realize how anxious I'd get about being here alone once the moon took the sun's place in the sky.

It's not my first time being alone. When I lived with dad, I was alone most of the time. But this apartment is still unfamiliar to me. Being in a new place that doesn't quite feel like a home yet is perturbing.

The sky grows a little too dark for my liking, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flinching when the volume startles me. Anything to suffocate the silence that lurks around the dark corners of this room though.

I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with the dark hallway that looks back at me. Shadows dance around the edges of the vignette, mocking my fear. I'm worried that if I watch for too long, I may really see something staring back.

And I thought my tiny, barely there feelings for Sal were scary. All that needs to be done to reset my mind is put me in an empty room, I guess.

Turning my gaze back to the TV, I try to focus on The Crow. All the gothic notes and emotional aspects try to distract me... but I quickly learn that even my favorite movie and Brandon Lee's ethereal beauty can't steal me from reality.

I'm restless. I can't stay here a moment longer.

Sighing, I sit up and gaze at the hardwood floor. Dad's not home-- I could go back to my old apartment, but that's a fifteen minute drive. That's a last resort. I would go to Todd and Neil's, but they're over in San Francisco to watch Todd's favorite musical.

That leaves me with Larry.

Can I bear to be in Sal's presence with all the turmoil in my head? I don't know, but I can't figure it out until I try. Not to mention, knowing him, he'll be locked up in his room anyway.

Me and Sal's conversation last week made me feel a bit more secure. I know things can continue the way they have been and I don't have to worry about anything else, I just have to work on getting past exactly how much I feel now. The fact that we had to had to have that conversation at all is embarrassing-- even if he told me that it was okay. It feels so stupid to me now that it's all over. It feels even more ridiculous that I apparently haven't learned a thing and still want to put distance between us.

I stand up and grab my keys from the kitchen counter before shutting off the TV. Then, I'm out the front door like a bat out of hell. The quiet was overpowering me-- having such a big place is so eerie when it's just me.

In my diluted panic, I make it to Sal and Larry's apartment in record time-- hoping and praying that they'll let me stay.

I pick up my pace once I reach their floor, bounding up to the door and knocking. Each corner feels like it's leering, hiding evil that lurks everywhere I go. It's unbearable and I just can't be alone.

That, or maybe some depraved part of me just wants to Sal.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I tap my foot against the carpeted floor and try to pretend that I've got it together. I do anything to get rid of the adrenaline rushing through me. Readjust my mask, pick at invisible lint on my shirt, crack all of my fingers, look up and down both sides of the hallway stretching around me. It feels like I wait for hours even though it's merely seconds until the door opens.

My eyes snap upward, gazing into the eyeholes of Sal's prosthetic. He holds it against his face with a hand, the straps dangling at the sides. It's clear I've caught him off guard.

"Vi?" He asks, tone suggesting he's both confused and alert by my sudden presence. I watch him glance down the hallway the same way I just did.

When he looks back at me, he has an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Uh," I choke out, remembering that I kind of have to tell him why I'm here. "Is Larry here? I wanted to hang out. The, um, silence is... loud." I rush to explain myself, knowing full well that I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

But Sal looks like he gets it though, his gaze softening in understanding as the words leave me.

"Larry isn't here," He tells me forthright. My heart drops at the news. "He went to Anaheim with Ash. Didn't she tell you?"

I hum bashfully, embarrassed at myself and the circumstances as I shake my head.

"Sorry for bothering," I say with a sigh, trying to hype myself up to brave the quietude and darkness.

A beat of tense silence passes between us as I build up the mental strength, already feeling like I'm rotting in the lonely apartment back upstairs.

Then, Sal mutters, "You can stay if you want, so long as you don't mind me practicing. And don't make me regret inviting you in."

I watch him watch me, both of us hesitant and unsure. But what's more unbearable than being around him (which hasn't been all too bad lately) is being alone.

I clear my throat lightly then look down at my feet, nodding. "Okay, thanks."

I may come to regret this.

Sal leads me into the apartment, his slightly taller figure blurring as I take in the living room and kitchen I helped unpack just a week ago now. To replace all the boxes and uncertainty is a kind of clean organization that I just know Larry had nothing to do with.

Sal spruced up. It's orderly, uncluttered, and so him. It works because Larry isn't much different.

The climbing living room walls have various band, tour, and festival posters, records, guitars, a bass, signed drum covers. It's a metal-head's dream. There's just a little touch that screams 'this-is-the-house-of-a-streamer,' which happens to be the multi-colored LED's on the ceiling. But I'll give them a pass for that one.

Regardless, it's nice. And the kitchen, while not completely decked out, is doctor's office-level pristine.

I purse my lips, feeling a little apprehensive. This might be the first time Sal and I have been in each other's presence without a plan for sex or something related to it. We're just... hanging out. It's weird, but I'm desperate enough to put up with it at this point.

Sal's out of my way already, settled on one of the black sofa's with his flashy red guitar nestled on his lap and a laptop in front of him. Oh, and the prosthetic is gone.

My eyes train onto his pretty face. With all of this moving, I've hardly been able to see it. As crazy as it is, it's kind of been killing me. This recent revelation of mine has led to this insatiable urge to look at him constantly. I thought it was bad before, when this was all just a meaningless crush, but now...

I swallow past my raging thoughts. I've had enough to think about today.

Following Sal's lead, I plop down onto the adjacent, larger sofa-- right in the middle of it. I stare at the dark television and subtly gaze around the room in search of a remote. I'll be damned if I sit here with him in silence like this. Once again, I would much rather hot box in a car full of Larry's tamale farts.

Sal's head tilts upward in my peripheral so I look at him. He looks at me, his azure eyes surveying me before leaning over to a little table between the sofa's. He grabs a remote, then an Xbox controller and tosses them to me.

"You can play something if you want. Just switch to HDMI 2," he offers, turning his attention back to his guitar, strumming a quiet note. His brows furrow and he bites down on his bottom lip, shakes his head lightly. Those hypnotizing cerulean locks fall past his shoulders and shield his handsome face from me. His hair has grown in the past few months, hanging at least an inch past his shoulder by now--

--and that is not the point of why I'm here.

I murmur a quick thanks and lean over to grab the controllers, switching on the TV and finding my way to Sal and Larry's shared console.

There's a selection of games on here, some I've played, others that are on my TBP list (like TBR, but instead of to-be-read, it's to-be-played).

I hover around the Resident Evil 4 remake. For the past few weeks, I've been telling myself I'm saving up for it. I brought it up to Ash a couple days ago and she gave me a funny look then proceeded to remind me that, with my streaming career, I have around $4,000 in my bank account right now. I don't need to save for once, I can just get it.

Except I panicked and said I have to keep all my money in case of an emergency... so having disposable income is still new to me and I have no idea how to handle it.

I click on the game, biting down the excited grin that tries to build on my face.

I start a new game and nearly crap myself, doing my fangirl job by raving over the updated graphics and Leon's lore-accurate hair color.

For about an hour, Sal and I don't even spare glances at each other. It's nice, chill-- just two... acquaintances... in each other's presence without having to talk to enjoy their company. I play RE4 and he strums away on his guitar. A couple times, I become entranced by the melody he plays. Each time he plays longer, it starts to come together. Around the second time he played more than a couple notes, I realized he was composing. Creating a tune. Whatever you want to call it.

While a musician myself, I've mostly worked on covers of songs. I've only tried to write my own music a couple times and even then, I realized it was tough work. Watching Sal now-- how long it takes him to come up with all the notes and lengths for just one chord-- I do not envy him, but I do admire him. He's putting a lot of work into it, clicking away on his laptop when he finds something he likes.

Each second of him working on his music steals me away from my game though. I start getting antsy, missing infected people even if they're right in front of me in the game. Hell, I walked Leon into a wall two minutes ago.

I grit my teeth as I navigate through the village, heart beating out of my chest with every corner I turn because a horde of zombies is going to be on me any second now.

I need to be prepared, need to get all of these questions out of my head.

"You're making a song?" I ask Sal, staring at the screen in front of me with my knees pulled up to my chest.

Sal hums in acknowledgment, distracted by whatever he's messing with on the computer. "Yea. Has to do with that Twitter leak." His voice is soft, hoarse. I'm shocked he even answered me with how focused he is.

Ah, yea. That leak. Ash and I didn't hear from Sal or Larry for two days after they rushed out of our apartment. When they finally popped up yesterday to help us with some more unpacking, they briefly mentioned something about 'damage control' and 'whistleblowing bastards.' Don't know how that has anything to do with whistleblowing, but those were Larry's words, of course.

I nod lightly, dragging Leon to a ladder. "I take it you don't want to give me the drama on that leak?" I guess, stealing a glance his way. Damn his pretty hair and equally as pretty face.

As I'm glancing, he shrugs, bright eyes darting across his laptop. The color of his irises is enhanced by the blue light of the screen-- I hate him. "There's not much drama to give," he murmurs, clicking on something. Then, he sits back, his eyes snapping to me. "The leak was the bridge to this song. I've been fixing it up and messing around with it. I had a producer with me a couple weeks ago, he took a picture of my screen. The back of my head was in it and it inevitably got out. What are people supposed to think when this is the title?"

He flips the laptop to me and I lean forward, squinting my eyes to look at the screen. There's a lot of graphing and multicolored lines that look overwhelming as hell-- but I focus in on the bold words at the top of all the mess. "DAC COLLAB."

I pinch my lips together in a guilty smile. "Ah, so that's the mess. That fucking sucks," I tell him as he pulls the laptop back to him.

Tongue in cheek, he tilts his head to the side as if to say 'whatever.' He at least seems unbothered by the whole thing now. "It is what it is. It's going to be released at some point anyway. North was going to make an announcement next month when we'd made a little more progress. Damn asshole at that studio just did the job for us, I guess." He seethes a bit on the last sentence, brows pinching together.

I hum contemplatively, eyes trailing over his hands as they press into his guitar before I look back at my game. "I wouldn't let it bother you too much. You still get to make the song, still profit from it."

A tiny grin pulls at Sal's lips. "True," he says nonchalantly.

Silence builds around us, our conversation having fallen off rather than ending. We're still learning. Awkward moments have to come along here and there.

Doesn't stop me from getting killed within the following moments though. I'm so stressed about making things work with him and me... I shouldn't have started the damn game.

"I'll make you a deal," Sal suddenly pipes up when I get mauled a second time.

Growling frustratedly to myself, I pause the game and turn to him, waiting for him to continue.

He shakes his hair out of his face, letting me see all of him. He sets his elbows on his knees, showing off the veins in his forearms and the map of tattoos that trail up his skin just to disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

I take a fortifying breath.

"Come listen to this and I'll help you past this part." He juts his chin toward the TV before looking back at me.

I shrug. Why not?

"Okay," I accept his proposal, scooting down the sofa toward where he is. His tattooed fingers type away on the keyboard before he turns the laptop so we can both see the screen.

"My taste is a little harder than what Dark Autumn Complex usually puts out, but I think we're getting somewhere," he tells me and for a moment, I wonder why he's trying to explain the music to me before I've even heard it. Is he nervous?

I simply nod my head. If I say something, he may get even more freaked out. I'm fighting for my spot on earth right now, man.

He presses the space bar then leans back, letting me listen.

I flinch when I hear the opening-- he wasn't kidding. It's similar to what the band usually does, but there's something sinister and death-metal-ish about the instrumentals. Sal seems to have a lot of control over the sound here. The double electric guitar, and heavy bass from a literal bass but drums too says enough. It's veering off the path that DAC usually takes.

Just because it's a little different doesn't mean it isn't damn good though. It's really good. Sal's cooking up a five course meal on his laptop here.

"Life slips by In the blink of an eye, Dripping through the gaps In my hand which saps This eternal time lapse Of brutality.

Prophesy each of my regrets; My mistakes chosen by the oracle. A fool making bets With possibilities so rhetorical."

I grin at the lyrics, at the sound, everything. I look over at Sal and he has a little smile on his face too, his expression so heavenly when his eyes meet mine.

"This is--" I start to say, but Sal cuts me off.

"Shut up. Listen," he whispers. So I do.

"An artist of malice-- My muse of persuasion. Drink from my crimson chalice, Submit to the composer's pervasion.

Aren't we friends? This anguish and me. Gaze through the rose-tinted lens, Ignore the razor blade's sharp plea."

I blink, the smile falling from my lips in record time. Just days ago, Sal asked me that question. 'Aren't we friends?' There have been so many coincidences with this band. So many, in fact, that I genuinely thought Sal and North were the same person at one time.

There's more to this than what I've been told.

"You work close with them, don't you?" I ask, tuning out the rest of the song for now. If he tries to shut me up again, I'll shove a finger down his throat.

Sal doesn't look at me as he chews on the inside of his cheek. And-- wait... is he... blushing?

"Caught that, huh?" He asks, pausing the song but still refusing to look at me.

My eyes widen at his admission. "What exactly do you do with them?" I ask quickly, leaning back a little bit as a thousand and one theories pop into my head. Is he going to tell me that he is North? That he's been hiding behind that name all this time?

And if he is, would I finally tell him that I'm Lexi?

If North is Sal, a lot of things are going to change.

Sal's tongue swipes along his bottom lip. "I write every single one of their songs," he says, nodding to himself. "They put it together, make music with it."

Oh. I got ahead of myself again.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as my body suddenly grows warm with shame. It's time I put that theory to rest.

I furrow my brows though, thinking back on the lyrics. "Look," I start warily, "I don't want to seem full of myself or crazy or anything, but I swear--"

Sal shakes his head, his dimple forming on his cheek as a bashful smile grows on his lips. "You're not crazy. I hate that you correlated it, but... there are a few lyrics inspired by some of our interactions. When things make an impact on me, I usually incorporate them into my songs." Now it's my turn to blush. I need a moment to process, but, fuck, Sal keeps going. "For example, 'Wherein Christine Daaè Becomes Her Own Phantom' is about Ash. And then a couple lines in some other songs, like the one you heard in this one and 'Falling through like fingers in fishnets---' those were about you."

I gape at him. This genius made of multitudes and art and misery and physics. I don't know what to say, so I stupidly spit out, "Ash has an entire song about her? You gonna write one about me?"

As soon as the words come out, I narrow my eyes and internally scold myself. Not the time to joke, y/n. Not at all.

Sal strums a note on his guitar, in a completely different world as he mumbles, "Who says I haven't already?"

My head snaps to him and a full on, rainbow infested panic attack starts up. He was so serious, ditched all of his reservations when he said that.

At my silence, Sal glances up inquisitively. He takes one look at my face and his eyes widen a fraction. "I'm joking. You aren't that important for me to write a whole song about. Don't take it so seriously."

Do I snap at him for that or feel relieved?

I choose to glare at him instead and switch the subject. "North has a really nice voice," I say a bit too cheerily. Sal notices and I watch him stifle a petty laugh. "It's very melodic, goes well with the band's sound."

"Don't tell him that," Sal snorts, something a bit bitter taking the place of his previous amusement. "His ego's already huge as is."

Ash had some serious heat on North, and now Sal's looking like he has some not-so-good opinions too. Is North really so shady? What is it that everyone's so on edge about?

I recall the time Ash went on a rampage about North incessantly flirting with me and how she mentioned that he isn't exactly known for being in relationships, that he may not be what he portrays himself as.

Sal seems to be pretty open tonight. Maybe I can finally start to understand what the issue is.

I open my mouth but fail to get a word out. I contemplate saying anything at all, nerves consuming me at the prospect. But North isn't here, it's not like he's going to find out we talked about him.

"Is he really..." I start softly. "Ash hinted that he may not be the best person?" I settle on, peeking at Sal through my lashes.

Sal watches me, eyebrows drawing together and jaw working as he searches for what to say. I wait patiently, happy that he's at least thinking about answering me.

"Are you considering cutting off our arrangement to be with him?" He asks genuinely, nothing but seriousness portrayed in his expression.

All the air leaves my body. I hadn't thought about ending things with Sal for that reason, not even once. Plus, North and I haven't talked in a while. After Ash freaked out, I pretty much put the situation on the back burner. "No," I reply quietly. "It's just curiosity at this point."

Sal's expression softens and he blinks at me, holds me in his gaze before sighing heavily. "Everyone has their own shit to work through. He's no different. He has a lot of baggage though, lot of issues. He's told me a thousand times before that he doesn't think he'd be able to handle a relationship because of his problems." He pauses, grimacing as he fights for the right words, clearly not wanting to disrespect is friend. "North is a bit of a hit or miss. I can't predict how he'd be with you."

He sends me a devilish look, teeth on display in a stunning smile as he adds, "Definitely can't tell you if the sex is good or not. He wouldn't let me hit."

I shake my head at him and roll my eyes, a blush forming on my cheeks. "I did not ask for that last bit," I tell him pointedly.

Sal chuckles, standing up from his spot on the opposite sofa to sit beside me. I watch him with questioning eyes, my body falling into a frenzy because, oh God, Sal's close. Arms. Tattoos. Fingers. Neck. Face. Teeth. Mouth. Hair. Veins. Ravenous. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

Yikes.

He grabs the controller I'd been playing Resident Evil with and that's when I remember that other half of our last minute agreement.

"Figured I'd give you one last little push to keep fucking me and not him," he says as if that statement holds no weight, gesturing toward me with the controller.

I hate when he says 'fuck' because it's always so unironically seductive. I know he's just playing around, but that glint in his eyes and the smirk-like tilt of his lips tries to tell me otherwise.

I snatch the controller from him and unpause the game, grumbling, "I already said I'm not interested in him."

I walk through all the steps I'd already done, having to restart the entire village scene due to my repeated fuck up from last round.

Sal doesn't reply to me, he watches every move I make on the screen and I focus as best as I can. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself, but I get wrapped up in the same exact spot again, fighting off more of the infected than I can handle.

Leon's body drops to the ground again and I stomp down the overwhelming urge to walk through the TV screen and beat Leon's dead body myself.

"I see what the problem is," Sal pipes up beside me, his tone screaming 'Physics Graduate' with how... scientific he sounds. I bet he conjured up a fucking hypothesis for this. "Come here," he says, linking a finger through my belt loop and tugging me toward him.

I nearly choke on air when my shoulder squishes against his and he leans closer, grabbing my arm closest to him and pulling it so that I'm holding the controller between us.

He moves his hands so that they wrap around mine and over the controller. He can move my thumbs any way he wants with this position-- but now I'm suffering the consequences. His hands are rough and warm on me, his fingers callused and brushing over mine with a perfect plan set in place. I can hardly breathe because, technically, Sal's holding my hands right now. And my body is pressed to his. If he listens a little too hard, he'll hear my heart slamming in my chest.

My body is completely rigid against his. Sex doesn't even involve closeness like this. My entire brain has been completely detached and rewired in mere seconds. Everything I thought has been reversed and I could... totally bed him right here, maybe?

"Are you going to restart or do I have to do that for you too?" Sal rasps humorously. His voice is so near, so clear. I want to look over at him so bad, see the dimple on his cheek because I can hear his smile, but I keep a level head. My eyes stay trained on the TV as I press start.

After all, when a cool, slow-mo explosion happens in the movies, the protagonist never looks back to watch.

I am the protagonist. I am the fucking protagonist. Iamthefuckingprotagonist.

"Okay, so this is where you're going wrong," Sal says in my ear, his tone suggesting he's much more focused now. His thumbs press into mine, moving Leon around the village much more easily than I could. Doesn't mean he's better than me, he just isn't running on fumes like I am. Sal fumes. I'm suffocating in him, it's all his fault. I am a good player, I swear I am.

I let him direct me, slowly beginning to relax in this soooo not-embrace. His arm, pressed against mine, acts as leverage for me to rest. He seems to lean against me more at some point too, the both of us more worried about getting Leon through the village than about how we slowly warm up to each other and this proximity.

"I don't know if we can get it with me guiding you like this," Sal says a tad urgently when the chase scene starts up, his thumbs working quickly with mine. At some point, I was able to start predicting what moves he'd make, so we seem to be more in sync now. "But we'll try. We have to get through the first wave, then we're going to shoot that damn church bell."

I furrow my brows. "Like the first game?" I gasp, "We can still do it here?"

Sal snorts, manipulating my fingers to shoot someone heading our way. "Of course we can. Watch and learn."

I do watch, and hell, I learn too. It takes maybe five minutes for Sal to get me through the part I'd been stuck on since I got here. The moment he gets the shot on the bell, it rings through the city and evokes deep satisfaction within me-- especially when all the citizens start piling at the church.

I smile at the screen, Sal's hands still wrapped around mine as the famed cut scene starts up.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?"

This time I look at Sal because we said that line in unison. We said it together. At the same time. He looks back at me with wide eyes and an astonished grin, like he's barely holding back crazed excitement.

Something catches Sal's eye as we watch each other for a short moment, reveling in our shared interest and achievement. He looks up and past me, smile softening as he lets go of my hands.

The controller is suddenly so heavy without him holding it up for me. It slowly drops to my lap as he stands, walking back over to his respective couch.

I swallow, biting down my yearning for his missing presence. He was warm, he was stable. And that admission only reinforces that fact that I really need to put some much needed distance between us before things get way too real.

I look down at my lap for a moment, reminding myself that everything's going it work itself out. It'll be okay.

Things go back to the way they were before we started conversing today. Sal plays his guitar and tweaks things on his laptop, I play Resident Evil. Only difference now is that we're both progressing through our tasks.

And you know what, it's really nice. I thought this would be a mistake, I thought this would make things so much worse-- well, things are worse, but not in the way I assumed it would be.

But I'm actually having fun. The best part is neither of us need to talk to enjoy ourselves right now. A dynamic like this one is rare.

"You need to go."

The words are abrupt, make me look up. Sal is placing his phone down beside him and pulling his guitar strap over his head.

Is this some kind of prank? Is he just trying to get our old bickering going? I was just thinking about how nice things were and he cut it off like he read my mind. He had this icy monotone to his voice that I haven't heard in a long time.

With a wary smile, I try to play along. "You're stuck with me, buddy. You made the mistake of inviting me in."

"I'm serious, y/n. I need you to leave." He nearly cuts me off, the words rushing out in what almost sounds like a panic.

I look at him closer, leaning my head down a bit to peek past his curtain of hair. His face is so stone-like, one would think he had faced off with Medusa. My eyebrows pinch together as I finally click into the veiled tenseness around us, my realization making everything that much thicker.

"Are-- are you okay?" I ask softly, a trickle of apprehension going down my spine. I don't know how to approach this. Clearly, something's wrong and he's trying to play it off. What do I do here? Things were going fine.

"Get out." The words are like a slap to the face, so aggressive and loud that I flinch, the controller tumbling off my lap and onto the floor.

My racing heart only increases its speed as I freeze up and just stare at him. I'm frightened, something I definitely don't want him to see but I can't help it, especially when he looks up at me with a glare so menacing-- the same glare that was always hidden by his prosthetic months ago. Until now.

I force myself to breathe and think.

Okay, he wants me gone. I can do that. All I have to do is walk out the door and I'll be out of his hair. Hell, he might even apologize about this later. My brain nags at me though, says that behind the anger in his expression is fear and sadness. Says that he doesn't need to be alone right now-- he needs someone.

This switch in him was so random, so fast. It feels wrong to think that I was the cause or that he's suddenly freaking out because I'm here. There's something deeper; the problem now is whether he'll let me find out what's going on or not. Should I even try?

Utterly split on what to do, I slowly stand to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. His excruciating glower softens a little, showing off a glimmer of relief that further proves my thoughts.

I fight past the fear he suddenly evoked, overwhelmed by how pained he must be to have a sudden reaction like this. He helped me when I had a hard time, so shouldn't I do the same for him?

As if to confirm my thoughts, Gizmo comes veering into the room. He talks and talks, skittering over to Sal and climbing up his chest. That's when Sal finally looks away from me so he can run his tattooed hand over the cat's orange fur.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. There is something wrong. Gizmo's presence says it all-- he did the same thing for me when I was anxious.

"Sal..." I say gently, hovering in my stance. I hold my hands to my chest, stuck on what decision to make. I don't know what to do. I'm torn between his wishes and mine. "Do you need to talk about something?"

"No," he bites out. "What I need is for you to get the fuck out." He gently moves Gizmo and stands up. I gulp, watching as that threatening aura of his grows closer and closer with each step he takes. I match his pace, taking steps backward. He herds me to the front door of his apartment, stopping when my back hits the doorknob.

I gasp at the feeling of metal digging into my lower back, using all my might not to back down and cower as Sal towers of me; every inch of his face curled with malice and rage and anguish. His dark brows are furrowed to hold up that glare of his, his light eyes darkened by the negativity roiling around in him. His marred lips set in a frown that just doesn't suit him at all. It's all so unlike him.

This isn't who I've come to know. No matter how scary he is, I just can't, in good conscience, leave him like this.

I take a shaky breath and stay stock still. Stand a bit taller to match his energy. I say a silent prayer that I don't end up on the evening news before I jump into the river crawling with snakes and alligators.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you like this," I declare, making sure my voice is confident to show that I won't back down despite how unconfident I am.

He looks away, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as if to bite down his instinctual reaction before he addresses me again.

He's trying. He's trying so hard not to scare me off for good-- that's why he wants me to leave now. I see it-- I see through him.

The gears work and click together in my mind. He doesn't want to be alone, he doesn't want to suffer with no one to hold him up when he's low. He's just so focused on boxing up his secrets, keeping them hidden from everyone that he won't rely on his only option. I really can't leave him now, can I?

"You can talk about it if you want, or you don't have to. But you don't have to be alone, whatever it is," I try to console him gently, moving to the side so he can see me in his peripheral. But my movement just makes him squeeze his eyes shut. My heart stutters upon realizing I'm not getting through to him, he isn't hearing me.

"Don't say that shit like you care!" he nearly explodes, voice rattling in my ears. "You don't understand anything. You don't know a thing about me."

He's looking at me again, desperation swimming in his ocean gaze, hiding away from the rage taking over his expression. His eyes rove over my face, sizing me up, waiting for the moment I bite back or walk away.

"I know I don't know anything," I tell him softly, making sure that my expression is open and, fuck, caring. Because I do care. "That's why I'm asking you to help me help you. However way is better."

"I don't want your fucking help," he hisses, eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking pity. I want you gone."

I open my mouth to passively fight him on that decision, but he interrupts me before I can even get a word out. "You can't spew this bullshit at me. Like you've lived a day in my life and you know what's it's like to be me. You don't, and you never will if it's up to me." With each word, pity, guilt, and anger builds within me. He's suffering and he won't let himself feel even an ounce of reprieve. Instead, he's trying to push everyone away. He's the type of asshole who probably thinks he deserves to be alone. "I don't want you here, nor do I need you here. Go coddle someone who needs it and get off my fucking case."

I clap back at him the moment he finishes. "Well, maybe you do need help! Maybe you do need my fucking pity! Have you thought about that?" I snap, gesturing to him with a hand. Why can't he just accept this? Get help? Let someone take it so he doesn't have to bear it all? "I don't need to be you to get it, Sal. I don't even need to be me to get it because I see it. You think you can hide it all, carry it all, but you clearly fucking cannot." I scrunch up my face to accentuate my words, trying to get it across to him through the parts of my face on display, the thing that supposedly captures his fascination so much. "It's seeping off of you like oil; doesn't even soak into you. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you wear your feelings. I don't know what the hell's going on, but it doesn't take a genius with an IQ higher than yours to see that you're in pain."

Sal doesn't let up that harsh scowl, but I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. And then he blinks. Then he's turning his back to me, walking away from me and toward the kitchen while running a hand down his face.

My heart physically feels as if it's cracking in two, but I grip onto the bit of clarity I have left after literally yelling in his face. I take a hesitant step toward him when his head tilts down, his hair falling around him.

I wet my lips, ponder what to say now. How to approach this with my fingers quaking as each quiet second passes.

"Let's..." I whisper, heaving a troubled sigh. "You don't have to tell me, but maybe talking about it will relieve you, even if just a little." I chew on the inside of my cheek, tiptoeing around the topic, making sure I'm gentle with him now that he's backed down. "And if you really don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. We can watch a movie, play a game. Whatever you want."

The tides are shifting. With each offer that leaves my mouth, something about us changes. With how much I live to loathe change, I find that I don't fear it the way I did before. Not if the change is with Sal. Not right now when this man is nearly falling apart in front of me and pretending that he isn't.

"I need--" his voice cracks and my heart does the same. He's holding himself together with wet glue right now. What the fuck is going on? "I need to talk to Ash," he tries again, his voice a little more stable this time, though still soft and reserved. "But I can't. She's busy."

I bite down on my bottom lip. I know he doesn't want to talk to me. He said it himself; he would never tell me his secrets. But I don't think either of us have much of a choice.

"I'm not Ash," I say delicately, taking one more step toward him. There's still so much distance between us, I don't know how to get to him. "But whatever you say will never leave this room. Once it's out, I'll forget it ever happened if that's what you want."

He doesn't move, doesn't speak. He's heavily contemplating, weighing his options.

Still silent, he jumps into action, moving to a cabinet in the kitchen. He opens it, pulls out a can of peaches. I watch his every movement as he opens the can then grabs a fork from a drawer.

I don't push him to speak, I let him figure out what he wants to do. He doesn't quite face me, but he turns so that his back leans against the counter, all while he bites into a colorful peach slice that's hanging from his fork.

He chews while staring unblinkingly at the emptiness in front of him.

"She messaged me."

My eyebrows draw together in confusion for a moment, but I think about what he's said before I ask him to be more specific.

She. She. I only know of two women regarding Sal-- one being Ash, and the other...

I hold my breath as I realize. It's the woman who hurt him. I shift my weight, expression slackening as I try to find a solution for him. My mind starts swimming with ways to drag him from the depths of his agony.

Ash told me that if I ever had strange messages and suspected it to be that woman, that I should let her know. And if this woman is harassing Sal, we could take it to police and maybe, hopefully, they could do something about it.

"And I don't know what to do," he continues helplessly, his sweet voice melodic with despair as he looks down at his can of peaches.

I watch him, collecting myself to approach him as rationally as possible. Then, I close the fated distance between us and walk over to him. I stand before him, about a foot of space between us. He doesn't look up.

"Here's what we can do," I start tenderly, trying to be as soft as possible while being a stable foothold he can use to climb out of this mess. "You don't have to look at it again," I continue, my gaze never leaving him even though he's almost completely hidden from me. "If you trust me with it, I'll take your phone, log in, screenshot the message. Then, I'll block her-- no response because she does not deserve it. I'll send the screenshot to myself then send it to Ash from there. It'll be out of your hands at that point. Me and Ash will handle the rest." Me and Ash because I want to sink my fangs into this bitch too.

Sal sets the can on the counter beside him, rubs a hand across his forehead. His fringe is wild, his hair sticking up in different directions until he runs a hand through his hair, his black nails clashing against a sea of cerulean blue. "Okay," he says, the word so quiet and raspy that I nearly miss it.

I wait just a moment, eyes glued to him. "Okay," I repeat. "I'm going grab your phone."

I backtrack to the living room, picking his phone up from the couch where he'd left it. I flip it so that the screen is facing me and see an Instagram notification. I don't read it just yet, but I slide up on the lock so that he can type in his password.

When I'm back in the kitchen, I stand in front of Sal and hand him the phone. Fork hanging from his mouth, he quickly types in his password then hands the device back to me.

It's open to the message. I know I'm doing this for him, but I'm afraid to look too much in fear of seeing something he doesn't want me to see. The last thing I want to do is betray his trust when he's finally given it to me.

"Do you want me to read it or just get the job done?" I ask him.

"Just read it. It's inevitable either way," he mutters dejectedly. That tone makes me frown worriedly. I'm already on the precipice of falling into complete heartbreak. His reaction certainly doesn't help. Still, I take the screenshot before glancing over the text:

@zoxbby112: 2 fucking years? sexual assault? you've got to be fucking joking you pathetic piece of shit. i TOLD you no one was going to believe your dumb ass and you still went and did it anyway. you're literally a dude, if you didn't want it you should've pushed me off or smth. everyone says no in the heat of the moment asshole. you liked it, you just need to play the victim since no one else is ever going to want you and that ugly fucking face. you're lucky i even still fucked you after getting that piece of plastic off you. fucked up my entire life. making yours a living hell is the only revenge i'm willing to get.

I have to grip onto the counter to stop myself from crumbling to my knees upon realizing just how this woman hurt him. It was sexual assault. She assaulted him.

"Oh, Sal..." The words slip past my lips, unbidden and broken as I take a shaky breath.

I blink past the sudden tears in my eyes and shake my head as I block her account then delete the message, navigating my way through his home screen and to discord. I send the message to myself then grab my own phone, making sure to save the screenshot. I go back to his, deleting the photo from our messages and his camera roll so he never has to see it again.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. So much of me wants to be angry, but all I'm feeling is throbbing pain and overwhelming guilt. I feel like my organs are being harvested from my body, like my skin is slowly being peeled away from my bones. All because I have no idea what to do for him, I don't know how to make it better. I don't know how to fix it for him, and I don't think I can.

"I'm..." I start to say, my voice hoarse.

"Please don't tell me you're sorry," he says quietly, stabbing his fork into another peach.

I tilt my head, biting my tongue as I place his phone down beside him. If I were in his situation, I wouldn't want to hear sorry's anymore either. God, more than anything I just wish I could go back in time and save him from that.

"You know," I say instead, so much emotion ravaging me whole that I don't know how to stay standing on my own. The only reason I'm still up is for him. "I don't know much about physics, but I did like biology. And something my teacher taught me is that skin renewal takes seven years. So in seven years, you'll have brand new skin, and, um, it won't be the same skin you had when..." I trail off, going completely blank while trying to give him something to look forward to. Everything is so pathetic that even my brain can't cooperate.

Sal's head snaps up to look at me like he actually understood what I was yapping about. His pretty blue eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he still looks at me, face completely expressionless.

I match his gaze, waiting for something. Anything. But then he cracks a pitiful smile, snorts softly-- shows me as much humor as he can muster up. Wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

I feel each of my damaged cells rebuilding themselves again at his shift in character. My heart beat becomes a little stronger, my breath more even and not so shallow with torturous anticipation.

"My skin will be untouched in seven years," he laughs, albeit humorlessly, but it's something.

"Yea, that's what I was getting at," I confirm, rubbing my arms and looking down at my feet.

Still standing beside him, I glance up just as he bites off half the peach slice on his fork. He gazes back at me, his eyes bluer than any sky I've seen, expression softer than any lingering touch of his.

I feel heat gather along my cheeks when he tilts the fork toward me slowly, offering me the other half of the peach. He looks like a cornered bunny, giving the fox hovering around him a peace offering. It's an apology and a thank you, reinforcing the trust that I handled with as much care as possible.

This fruit means something to him. I haven't an inkling of understanding on the offer, but if it matters to him then it matters to me.

I gently pluck the fork from his fingers, bite off the other half of the peach then hand the fork back.

Turning, I lean my back against the counter and stand beside him, both of us looking into the empty living room in front of us. We don't talk, we don't share a word. But we do pass that fork back and forth. He takes a bite of a peach, I finish it off. It goes like that until the can is empty, and then we both just kind of... stand there.

He pushes off the counter with a soft grunt, dumps the remaining syrup into the sink, washes it down the drain, then he walks over to me. He just stands there and looks down at me with the gentlest expression I've ever seen on him.

I stare back at him, dumbfounded as my mind races for explanations. So much is different now, I didn't think it could possibly change any more but I'm slowly learning that I keep severely underestimating Sal Fisher. Neither of us can make up excuses for this.

I quickly fit the puzzle pieces together though and realize he's right in front of me because I'm blocking the trashcan. What only solidifies it is that a little upside down smile quirks his lips upon seeing me connect the dots.

Now, we move the the awkward, embarrassment stage that comes with deep connection. Yea, making friends really sucks, especially when I want so much more than friends.

What?

The unwarranted thought flies out of my head as Sal braces a hand on the counter beside me when I don't move, caging me in as he bends forward. His face passes right beside mine and his hair brushes my cheek, making a chill run up my spine.

His body heat encases me like a warm duvet on the coldest of winter days, his scent wrapping around my soul, squeezing tight, comforting. He's so familiar now, it feels so normal being close to him like this. So much so that I ache to hold him right here for hours. Forever, even.

Maybe it's the dim lights in the kitchen, the dark night filtering in from his balcony windows. But when he moves backward, he doesn't go far.

He hovers near me, his hand still pressed into the counter beside me. He's close, very close. Closer than he's ever been, I think.

I map the curve of his lips, my eyes drifting to where the deep scars elongate and change the shape of his mouth, dragging up his cheek and to his eye-- the eye that I can clearly tell is a prosthetic now that he's so close. It looks so similar to his real eye that I genuinely couldn't tell the difference before.

"You have freckles," I whisper upon noticing them, my voice barely above a whisper. Before I can stop myself, I lift a hand between us and gently run my fingertips over his skin, tracing every little light spot along his nose and cheeks.

His eyes glance back and forth between mine in my peripheral vision and at the same time, a light pink dusts his cheeks that I'm so focused on. He swallows, licks his lips. Unable to form words.

He opens his mouth, almost like he's thinking of saying something, but he doesn't. He simply lets out a breath, delicately holds me in his gaze.

I let my hand drop between us, marveling at the feel of his soft skin beneath mine. I don't want to make him uncomfortable though, I'm already ogling him enough as it is.

At the realization that I really am looking at him so hard, I tilt my head down, dropping my gaze. After what that awful woman texted him tonight, I doubt he wants to be looked at like this. Picked apart, observed. The point of this is to help him, not point out everything he probably hates about himself. Though, there really is nothing to hate. The me from a couple months ago would passionately object to that statement, but that's past-me for a reason.

Things change. I changed. Sal's changed.

My breath catches in my throat when his hand presses against my cheek, using the leverage to tilt my head up again. To look at him.

My heart leaps in my chest and I'm unable to breathe when I notice his dilated pupil, feel his thumb gently rubbing my along my jawline. His eyes track his digit's movements, but I can't even be bothered to look away from him. I'm bewitched by his fascination with me, haunted by the calm expression on his face, the wonder in his eyes.

His thumb drags down from my cheek and to my mouth, skimming over my top lip, then the bottom. I feel skittish, burning to move some part of my body to release the energy pent up inside me.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, entranced by my own mouth.

And if he were to actually try to kiss me this time, I wouldn't stop him.

A low hum spreads throughout my entire body upon acknowledging our situation and the tension that's suddenly filled the air. It's a tingling in every limb, down my spine, up to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I feel him everywhere even though he's only touching my face. I can see him so well, so easily. The slightly darker shade of his left eye and the golden flecks of stardust in his right eye. Pretty. So pretty.

"So pretty," he murmurs my own thoughts. Something about the way he says it, so unguarded and adoring, makes me think I wasn't supposed to hear it.

I don't know how to reply or if I even should. I simply watch him like I have been all night, feeling oxygen and rationality leave me with each prolonged second of this somewhat embrace of ours. We've found ourselves like this more than once today, could we possibly escape it again?

I feel so light and heavy at the same time, thrumming with energy but weak. The feeling of his skin, so cool against my flushed skin, is enough to have my mind racing but to make my body completely freeze. I'm stuck. There's so much... so much that I want to do with the way he's looking at me this way, but I can't make myself do it.

I don't quite realize how close we've suddenly gotten until his nose bumps my mask's. A quiet gasp leaves me and his eyes dart up, gazing into mine.

He's fighting himself and I can tell, the quick scrunch of his eyebrows gives everything away.

Things are really about to change-- again. As if they hadn't already.

There's something startling about the way his eyebrows draw together again, but this time in a pleading way, like he's silently willing me with his mind to pull away from him. Begging me to put a stop to his internal madness. To change his mind. His doe eyes look a little scared and a little dedicated– two very different emotions that just so happen to go hand-in-hand for the moment.

The way he's looking at me... it's been so long since anyone has looked so pleasurably torn up over wanting me so badly. And not in a lustful way, but in the way that forms bonds. Connects us so intimately without the goal of chasing an orgasm or being able to get something out of the situation. The way he's looking at me screams curiosity and a need to sate it so bad that he's not fighting the battle he wanted me to pull him away from moments ago. He's just slowly giving in and trying to convince himself that he's not.

I'm no better than him in this moment. My hands are balled into fists, my entire body frozen and awaiting whatever it is that's going to come next. My fingernails bite into my palms and my heart drums against my chest, wishing he'd move closer.

I didn't think it'd be this way. I didn't expect to crave him so badly, to miss the feeling of his lips on mine without ever having felt it before. It's excruciating to yearn for him in this new way and hope that he doesn't back out before I can even feel him.

As if he read my mind, he's moved so close that I can feel his breath on my chin, his top lip brush over mine.

I suck in a choking breath and hold it, praying this isn't all a dream.

"Aren't you scared?" He whispers quietly, his mouth skimming over mine with each syllable. His words echo in my mind, his tone caressing my thoughts, coercing me into falling into him and never getting up again.

"No," I whisper back, shutting my eyes and waiting. It's scarier to look at him and fear that he'll move away. Almost as if to lock him into place, I grip onto the hem of his shirt.

He goes quiet and I feel every one of my neurons lighting up with anticipation when his forehead presses against my mask's.

"Push me away. Something," Sal whispers, the words so quiet and pained that I don't dare open my eyes to observe his current state.

He knows. He knows this is exactly what he told me wouldn't happen, but now it's about to. And we should be realistic, think about the consequences but I don't want to. I just want to feel him, have him near. I want to be selfish.

I lick my lips, forgetting he's so close. My tongue swipes over his bottom lip and I hear it-- feel it when he steals a breath that tries to escape him.

"I can't," I answer him hoarsely, unable to raise my voice for him to hear me better as I squeeze the fabric of his shirt in my fist. Every bit of me aches to touch him, to feel his skin on mine but I can't muster up the courage, not when this entire situation is in his hands right now.

I won't choose for him today, not with what brought us to this. If he wants me, he can take me.

"Please." His word comes out in a broken whisper, so full of yearning that a little whimper escapes my mouth.

"Please," I mimic him, entranced by the featherlight brush of my lips over his. I can't keep doing this. I can't... "I can't think. Do it."

He lets out the most pitiful sigh I think I've ever heard in my life, and then leisurely presses his lips into mine. It's slow, soft, careful. He holds himself there, suffocates in the sensation just as I do.

Everything I thought I had lost so long ago comes rushing back into me. Excitement, life, a want for more than basic necessity. And for once, I don't feel bad. I don't feel guilty for wanting Sal as much as I do.

I place a hand on his stomach to remind myself that this kiss is real, that he's truly standing in front of me.

My touch was the trigger, I realize, when his other hand moves to my other cheek, pulls me closer to him. He tilts his head a bit as his jagged lips part against mine, softly welcoming the slanting of my mouth against his.

My throat feels as though it's clamped shut as I move a hand to grab onto the base of Sal's neck, my fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt. I'm completely enraptured by the feeling of his mouth on mine. I feel like I'm going to faint, my heart beating so quickly, so vigorously that I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears. There's so much emotion that I've bitten down and hidden for so long regarding Sal. It's all coming out now.

Our lips move slowly, passionately. There's no rush, no heat. It's just feeling. Every movement, every moment of his lips sliding so delicately against mine, every ragged breath, every tightening of his hands on my face or my fingers bunching into his shirt. The feeling of our noses occasionally brushing against each other, plastic against damaged skin, and his chin skimming over mine just a bit. It's beautiful and so passionately smothering. The quiet morphs to mimic the simultaneous quick pace of our heart beats.

I feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum right in the center of my chest where we touch, becoming one despite the heavy, loathsome origin story we were granted with. I'm sure he can feel just how much he's affecting me, his hand drifting over my neck and two fingers pressing against my pulse point like he did the first time we were together.

As sadistic as he is, I think he's only checking because he can't tell where his heart beat begins and where mine ends.

Sal's lips close over mine again, the feeling eliciting a shiver that threatens to take over my entire being. I return his kiss, desperate to be closer to him in any way possible while my hand trails from his shirt to his cheek, brushing over the soft, scarred skin.

He presses me against the kitchen counter, his hands beginning to roam past my face and neck as things gravitate from sweet to intense.

Our kiss becomes aggressive, his teeth biting into my lips and quiet breaths and whimpers passing from him and to me. He makes me feel crazy, filling me with exhilaration that courses through my blood quicker than adrenaline ever possibly could.

Sal moves backward and I move to follow, but then his lips leave mine.

I open my eyes, blinking up at him with barely an inch of space between our faces.

He stares at me, looking like I've just torn him to pieces and hid every bit of him away and now he has to play eternity-long hide-n-seek.

But beyond that, his lips are flushed and kissed, his cheeks tinged pink and hair a mess-- when did I touch his hair? His eyes look a little brighter though, a little less haunted.

"Uh," he voices shakily. "Heat of the moment?"

He doesn't even sound like he believes himself.

The statement still makes my hopes deflate dramatically though. I chew on the inside of my cheek and force myself to look him in the eye as I lie to his face. "Yea," I rasp, taken aback by the sound of my voice. "Yea."

He watches me closely, never moving farther nor closer. As the seconds pass, he seems to sober up, the terrified look in his eyes slowly fading away.

If he decides this was a one time thing, at least I got to taste him once. At least we got one moment, one kiss. It's what I wanted and it's what he wants.

Sal interrupts my thoughts, whispering, "You know..." One of his hands painstakingly and slowly trails along my side, making my skin erupt with goosebumps. "I think we're still in the heat of the moment," he continues darkly, gaze falling to my mouth.

I don't let shock take control, I only try to control the smile that tries to quirk my lips. "I think so too," I whisper back, looking down at his teeth that bite into his lower lip like he's barely holding himself back.

As soon as he hears my response, he doesn't bother holding back. He smashes his lips onto mine and engages the two of us in the same dangerous dance we made the mistake of beginning earlier.

-------

A/N::::: BEEN HOLDING THIS ONE IN THE DRAFTS FOR A WHILLLLLLEEEEE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY TIME-- LIKE I ACTUALLY CAN'T BELIEVE IT WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO WRITE AFTER THIS

jk >:3

yea so as much as i adore this chapter, it also scares me because i feel like it moves way too fast (totally hasn't been nearly thirty fucking chapters ahahhaha). so yea, PLEASE let me know how we feel about this and what could have been better!

psa: i'm going to be starting student teaching august 1st, and college has me going to lots of meetings which means things are about to get VERRRYYYY busy for me… busier than they've ever been :( but!! i think things will be okay. lately, i've been teaching myself to fight through the lack of motivation and write any time i get even an inkling of yearning for it. exactly why y'all got this chapter so soon, actually! i saw something about how stephen king writes 5,000 words a day and i've been building to that! so while i won't be able to freely write as much as i know i'll want to, i'll still be writing. you guys know the drill though, even if it takes me a month or two to get something out, WINTER BREAK IS IN DECEMBER WHICH MEANS I CAN BEAT Y'ALL UP WITH CHAPTERS!!!

as always, i love you all SO much. more than you'll ever know. things have been tough on my mental lately and i'm going to be going through a HUGE shift in my life, but… that's okay cuz I know I'll always have you guys. thank you for being the most stable, non-toxic, and reliable things in my life! y'all going in my will fr

have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night my babies <3

p.s. when i wrote this note, i had just posted this chapter to wattpad-- which was about a week ago. the huge shift in my life had involved a six year relationship that i ended yesterday. i am incredibly torn up and shaken by this, but i believe it needed to happen for my wellbeing as well as my growth as a person. I know it's not necessarily an important thing to add to this note, but i want to give a reason just in case this healing process causes a prolonged absence for me. i am completely dedicated to faceless fixation and even today i've thought about what i want to write next, but i need to put some focus on myself instead of running away from my problems. thank you guys for being wonderful, i love you all so much!! until next time <3

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic

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lover-of-mine · 3 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-mine/755197579959123968/so-over-the-slow-burn-thing-too-also-the-idea

I firmly believe that all the people who say they want an entire season of buddie pinning and then like season 9 mid for canon buddie just truly don’t understand how long that is. Like I don’t think they understand in tv show format that translates into months upon months of just the same thing episode after episode after episode. Hiatus and breaks. And the fact that mid season 9 is over a year away. It’s not like their ao3 fics where they can just binge through all 70k words of pinning and get to the happy ending in an hour or two. I also don’t think they understand just how fast they will get bored of seeing that play out for so long. After the 3rd or 4th episode of them pinning (so a month of it) they will be begging for it to end. Nevermind watching 8 months of pinning, 3-4 months of hiatus, then another 4ish months of pinning before hitting that season 9 winter break.

I blame streaming format for "slowburns" for that actually. Like, Colin and Penelope from Bridgerton, people wanna call that a slowburn, it took them 20 episodes total to get engaged, but you have whole seasons being put out at once, so you watch the story all at the same time and have to wait a shit ton of time between season, so it feels like a lot of time has passed, but let's face it, you probably watched the whole season in a weekend, so the actual story is not frustrating, but couples that get together in one season feel rushed. Same with JJ and Kiara from outerbanks, it took them 29 episodes to get together, but there's a lot of space between seasons, so a relationship that takes time to develop, it's not just introduced as romantic gets called a slowburn when it's literally just... developing in a decent pace. Wanna know what's episode 20 for buddie? Sink or swim. Episode 29? Seize the day. What's 4 years of "slowburning" in streaming is a season and a half. That's what? A year and a half for us? Mid-season 9 for us is 28 episodes away if we keep the 18-episode format. Which doesn't seem like a lot, but we are getting one episode a week, other things happening to other characters, a mid-season hiatus, a between-season hiatus, stops in the middle of a season. If you experienced a classic procedural network slowburn real-time, Kate and Castle, Bones and Booth, Castle says he loves Kate at the season 3 finale and they keep dancing around getting together after and it's 23 very agonizing episodes waiting week by week for them to stop being idiots. It has been 96 episodes since Eddie has been introduced. It happened 6 years ago. The clock didn't reset all of a sudden when Buck came out as bi, for all intents and purposes we have been waiting for 6 years. I've seen multiple people say getting buddie in season 8 would be instant gratification and no matter how I look at it, I can't see how. I doubt it could realistically happen before 804, so that's at least 100 episodes. It's not like they're gonna drop the whole arc at once and we're gonna watch 10 uninterrupted hours of 911 on a Saturday and see them get together. We have been watching week after week for YEARS, and I will keep watching, but MY GOD, you can't get any slower than we're at right now. Getting them together during 9b is them getting together after February 2026 at best. We don't know if we're gonna get a season 9, the idea of gambling and stalling this when it has been locked and loaded already is just............ At this point, any other classic procedural slowburn had at least kissed one. At this point, it's stalling just to stall. Just get Eddie out of the closet and get them together already, it's been SIX YEARS. It will feel like a slowburn once you watch back. Can we just please stop acting like the show suddenly restarted with the switch the ABC?????????????????????????????

#this is rambly and confusing #but im frustrated and i cant verbalize what i want in any way that's better than this #sorry #911 #anon 😌#i really need a tag for asks #buddie

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ohbo-ohno · 11 months

Text

Kinktober Day 28 - Body Worship

Ghost x Soap - 1.2k (on ao3)

summary: Simon sneaks into Johnny's room after he comes back from a rough mission, and shows his appreciation. (Ghost POV)

cw: noncon somnophilia, overall creepy behavior and references to stalking

note: this has no sex or even sexual acts, ghost is just a creep (but a sappy creep!)

Johnny’s sleeping form makes Ghost’s heart skip a beat. He’s laid on his back, head and arms propped up on pillows, wearing only a tight pair of boxers. His face is relaxed, handsome and serene, and Ghost wants nothing more than to see him blink open his pretty eyes, see him smile and pull the blankets down to offer up space by his side.

But he's on top of the blankets, taking up as much space as he physically can, and drugged up on so many pain meds there's no possibility he wakes up in the next ten hours.

Nearly every inch of his skin is painted black and blue. Two fingers on each hand are taped together - middle and ring on his left, pointer and middle on his right, left thumb taped up - and bandages wrap around his right shoulder, his left ankle, his right knee, and his ribs. His nose is puffy and red from being reset earlier, one eye is already swollen enough that Ghost knows he won’t be able to see out of it when he tries to open it. His scalp is decorated in little cuts kept together with butterfly stitches, a few down his arms and across his chest as well.

If Ghost were a religious man, he’d say Johnny looks like an angel. As it is, he thinks Johnny must be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He hates that his boy is so injured, hates that he wasn’t there to bathe Johnny in the blood of every man who dared lay a hand on him. His only comfort is the knowledge that Soap and Gaz had slaughtered the terrorists they’d been sent after, Soap himself getting to enjoy most of the kills if Gaz's report was accurate.

He knows Johnny is more than capable of handling himself in any situation, but it makes guilt settle deep in Simon’s chest that he ever even has to.

There's a darker part of his that rebels against the idea that the bruises covering his boy's body were left by someone else. If anybody's going to hurt Johnny, it should be Ghost. The idea that anyone else got to see him in pain, go to see his blood, makes Ghost's blood heat.

He sinks onto the mattress beside Johnny’s bandaged ankle, laying a hand across the injury and stroking softly. He was right about the meds - Johnny’s so drugged out that he doesn’t even twitch.

Ghost knows he’s a light sleeper, usually has to make sure he’s as quiet as possible when he sneaks into Johnny’s room at night. This is the first time he’s got some freedom, the first time he doesn’t have to worry about how easy it is to wake Johnny up.

He eases his way to his knees, then between Soap’s thighs. His poor boy moans a little when he spreads his legs, and Ghost instinctually shushes him. He can’t help but smile when the small comfort works and Johnny goes quiet again, settles back into the pillows and stilling his small shifts.

He starts his worship with Johnny’s feet. He cups his left foot in his hand, strokes carefully and slowly over the bandages and the top of his foot. He gives each of his toes a kiss, licks between them each and gives them a short suck. He kisses his way up the top of Soap’s foot, flutters several quick pecks all over the bandage, carefully light.

He moves further up Johnny’s leg, kissing every little scrape or cut and licking every bruise. He coats nearly every inch of Johnny’s skin in his spit and his breath, tilts his leg to the side just a bit so he can see the back of his calf. He’s careful to move slowly, lets his hands stroke all over Johnny’s flesh in soft petting motions to soothe him.

He hums a bit when he makes it to Johnny’s knee, rubs it a bit in what he hopes is a comforting way, and continues up to his thigh. He’s meticulous in his praise, makes sure not to leave a single injury untouched. Any inch of skin his lips don’t touch, his hands do.

He lowers himself back to Johnny’s feet, starts the process again with his right foot. He’s languid and slow, letting his love for Johnny’s body truly seep from him and into the man’s every pore. Johnny will never know Simon was here, but he wants his boy to wake up in the morning and feel his claim - irrational as it may be.

He doesn’t touch Johnny’s cock, leaves it safely tucked away in his black boxers. If Johnny were less injured, he might roll him to his stomach, spend a while massaging his ass and becoming more acquainted with his thighs. As it is, any major movement runs the risk of waking Johnny up, so Ghost instead shifts up until he’s straddling Johnny’s hips and carefully keeps his weight off the smaller man.

He continues his treatment onto Johnny’s chest - a kiss for every scratch, a lick for every bruise. He pets along Johnny’s bandages, starts planning different ways he can bully Soap into letting him change them for him. He usually doesn't have to do too much intimidation to get Johnny listening, but his sergeants has never been willing to let others see him hurt - Ghost already anticipates quite the tantrum when he establishes himself as Johnny's aide until he's healed up.

After a while, his hands move from Johnny’s ribs to his arms. He strokes from fingertip to collarbone, soft movements that leave goosebumps in their wake.

He spends a bit more time on Johnny’s face, though it’s the least injured part of him. He wants to coax Johnny’s lips open, lick into his mouth and around his slack tongue, discover every nook and cranny of his mouth and memorize his taste. But he holds back, reminds himself that he wants to have that experience for the first time with Johnny needy and desperate beneath him, not limp and sleeping.

Still, he can’t resist leaving a soft kiss on Johnny’s lips. They’re bone dry, so he licks over them just a bit, so they won’t crack when Johnny wakes up. He moves onto the rest of his face, lays fluttering kisses across his swollen nose, a feather-light kiss against his purple eye that's really more of a brushing of lips, and runs his tongue along all the cuts along his cheeks and scalp.

His poor, beaten boy. If he could, Ghost would bring those terrorists back to life and rend them limb for limb for doing this to Johnny.

He doesn’t want to leave Johnny all alone. Already his heart cracks in his chest at the thought. But he isn’t ready for Ghost, won’t be ready for some time in all likelihood. So Simon will continue to linger as his sergeant’s shadow, keep him close and protected as much as he can.

He couldn’t protect him from this, though.

Ghost leaves a final kiss on Johnny’s lips, one last apology. It nearly tears him in two to pull away, but he manages it. Runs a hand down the length of his boy's body one more time, rubs the top of his less-injured foot firmly.

It’s nearly impossible for him to leave the room. He only manages it by planning all the ways he’ll coerce Johnny into staying by his side in the coming weeks.

#kinktober 2023 #ghoap #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #bo writes #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john mactavish x simon riley #johnny soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #soap mactavish x ghost riley #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #kinktober day 28 #kinktober

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steddiejudas · 1 year

Text

STWG Daily Drabble 9/28/23

prompt: I wouldn’t remember me either

“You know this isn’t the first time we’ve hung out?”

“No?”

“You don’t remember?”

Chrissy shakes her head sadly. Eddie asks every loop, and always gets the same response. It breaks his heart a little each time.

See, there are variances in each loop. Sometimes Chrissy takes the weed and leaves. Those loops never last long. Sometimes she asks him to stay and show her how to smoke, or now that Eddie remembers exactly where he’s keeping his ket, he finds it much sooner and cuts up a line for her, staying by her side as a grounding presence. They’ve bonded in these loops, Chrissy becoming one of Eddie’s best friends. He knows that he will never be hers.

After what he affectionately refers to as the beta loop, Eddie at least knows now to play music whenever she’s around. He’s managed to save Chrissy in 23/27 loops.

Some things never change from loop to loop. It always starts with a nervous looking Chrissy stumbling into his chest in the woods. The loop always ends when one of them dies. But the most gut wrenching of every constant is that Chrissy never seems to remember him.

“It’s okay, Chrissy,” he says for the first time. “I wouldn’t remember me either.”

Something in Chrissy’s expression falters. She searches his eyes for something he isn’t sure she’ll find.

“Eddie?” Her voice is tentative and nervous. “If i tell you something will you promise not to think I’m crazy?” And it can’t be more crazy than what Eddie’s stuck in so he agrees.

“I do remember you. I remember watching you die 23 times. I know you don’t know me the way I know you, but you’re not going to remember this anyway in either a couple hours or days when one of us dies and resets the loop so I need to tell you you’re my best friend and I love you.”

“C-Chris?”

“I’m sorry! Of course you’d think I'm crazy after saying something like that! Just forget it!”

“N-no Chris, stop!” Eddie reaches out a hand to stop her from running off, ensuring this loop will reset early without him there to put on her favorite record, and he really wants to see how this one plays out. “Do you remember number 17?”

“Do you?!” She exclaims.

The two of them share a wide eyed look, coming to the same conclusion.

“You’ve been pretending not to know me for 27 loops?!” they say in unison.

#stwgdailyprompt #this got me thinking ab their friendship 🥲#i think they would suffer in silence to protect each other #in loop 17 chrissy kissed nancy and stole her gun to shoot jason #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer

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cordership · 11 months

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I posted this on a discord a while back, but I decided I should post a version here too. That being said, I present to you:

I HAVE GAZED INTO THE ABYSS AND THE ABYSS ASKED ME IF I WANTED TO WATCH A GAME

The culmination of a feverish night of theory crafting after a sudden epiphany like a vision from an angry god, which may or may not be pertinent to the plot of “20021, a Football Story” by Jon Bois, whenever that comes out

See, okay, the whole deal with this thing is; If either Nick and Manny get caught and fail to bring the footballs home, or succeed and bring the footballs home, it will become a big story that it was only two guys who stole the footballs from Georgia Tech. This tells Michigan State that the locomotive lateral was performed by two guys, and thus, it would have been almost impossible for them to split the balls up, meaning the 9 balls that MI ST went up by at the end of the locomotive lateral would have been all the balls that GTECH had (given that it dropped in rank to the 0 ball teams at the same time as MI ST increased by 9). If someone from MI ST took a screenshot of their scoreboard before and after the lateral they would be able to tell that by the time the lateral was completed:

1: MI ST has 24 balls

2: GA SO has at most 14 balls because they were a place below MI ST before the lateral when Michigan had 15 balls

3: SC ST has at most 8 balls because they were a place below GTECH, which (based on the number of balls MI ST increased by and GTECH’s ranking afterward) had 9 balls before the lateral

4: CIN, HOW, and TEX likely have 3 balls each, and if they’re not sure MI ST can collaborate with one of them. Additionally, if you know that a certain team has a certain number of balls at any point in the game, then if the ranking group that team is in never drops below 2 teams, then you will always know everyone in that ranking group will have that same amount of balls even if the original team drops out of that ranking group, due to the sheer unlikelihood of every team in a ranking group gaining or losing exactly the same amount of balls at the same time. Remember, it can be days between scoreboard changes. There is a good chance that every team already knows the tied for 5th ranking group have 3 balls each.

5. If you know CIN, HOW, and TEX each have 3, then MO through to UTEP must have 2 balls each

6. There are 28 teams with exactly one ball each. The 1 ball teams extend into the remaining teams section, where you normally would not be able to see rankings and wouldn’t be able to tell which ones are 1 ball teams and which ones are goose egg (0 ball) teams. However: all teams in the same rank are organized alphabetically, and you can see that the alphabetization resets between Washington State University and Air Force Academy. Therefore a MI ST player would be able to know there are 28 one ball teams.

So: 24+14+8+3*3+2*5+1*28=93

111-93=18 balls hidden off the field, one more than the number UAB is hiding in Stannard Rock Lighthouse

Will Michigan State find 18 missing balls alarming? I don’t know. Depends on the kind of story Jon Bois wants to write. I want to believe they will, starting a frenzy that uncovers UAB’s hidden dynasty as the most powerful team in the entire college bowl, which somehow forces UAB to resurrect their steamroller play One Last Time.

Maybe that’ll give Val something to talk about, other than loathsome mosquitoes lurking in limestone quarry ponds, which may or may not have contributed to the construction of the Empire State Building.

I can only say one thing for certain:

Stay in school, kids. It makes you better at cross-country football.

#17776 football #17776 #20020 football #20020 #jon bois #the locomotive lateral

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redfoxwritesstuff · 3 months

Text

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 28

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Nudity and talk of Thor movie AN: Look, another angst free chapter!

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Mia didn’t have time to mess with her makeup. It was mostly decent from work. Dusting powder over it to refresh and reset it, she called it good after cleaning up under her eyes. After half-assing brushing her hair, she twisted it up and clipped it.

Good enough.

Opening the door, she stepped into the living room. Her simple black heels dangled from her fingers as she rushed through the space, skirt of the dress grazing the back of her ankles with each step. She leaned against the couch and slipped her feet into it.

Sally looked between her mom and Tom. He was frozen in time, glass of water halfway to his lips and mouth hung open. The water was dangerously close to spilling from the glass but he didn’t care about that. The little girl wondered if he would notice if it did spill or even if it fell out of his hands like in a movie.

Tom looked at her mom the way that the princes looked at the princesses in movies. Sally didn’t really understand the complexities of relationships, she was old enough to know there were many things she did not know.

Sally did know that she hoped Tom would stay with her mom forever. If she was good, maybe Tom would stay. Maybe Tom and mom would get married. If she was lucky, maybe Tom and her mom would get married. Tom could be her new dad.

The glass slipped out of Tom’s fingers as Mia bent over her raised leg, securing the strap around her ankle. Tendrils of damp hair hung around her face and neck.

“Fuck.” The moment Tom was frozen in was shattered at the sound of the cup clattering to the counter.

Water spilled everywhere, splashing up onto his jacket and white shirt. It ran over the counter and a stream of water ran over the edge of the countertop. Splashing dribbles hit to floor.

“You good there, boy?” Gretchen called from where she sat on the couch, feeling very much forgotten about.

She could have been a piece of furniture, for all the people in the room had been aware of. Not that Gretchen faulted the fancy man. Mia did pretty up nice and oh boy, it was clear as day that he was smitten with her.

“Yeah. Uh, yeah- Cup just slipped out of my hand.” Tom grabbed a hand towel and quickly began mopping up the water.

“Mmhmm.” Gretchen drew her attention back to the braid she had in her hands currently, fingers moving with unworldly speed. “Thought maybe you fell in love but what do I know.”

Mia shot Gretchen a glare from where she sat, setting her foot on the ground. She wanted to challenge Gretchen with something but didn’t know what. Tom had just dropped his cup, that was all. There was nothing more to it.

There wasn’t anything she could say that wouldn’t give them away to Sally though. Plus the more people that believed their marriage was sound and based on more than just a whim, the better. Balancing the two polar opposite stories was enough to drive a woman mad.

“Did it break?” Mia asked Tom instead.

“Uh, Nope.” Tom answered too fast. “Ready to go?”

~~~~~<3

They couldn’t make their reservation. There wasn’t time for a proper sit down meal even from somewhere that would sit them quickly so fast food was on the docket. Vegas was about the only place Mia could think of where no one would bat much of a eye at someone wearing a dress like hers sitting outside of a In-n-Out burger across from a man in dark jeans and a leather jacket.

It was a bit too warm outside for a jacket, in her opinion. Tom was committed to the look though and who could fault him? It looked damned good on him.

It was a relaxed dinner while Tom kept close watch on the time, ensuring they didn’t spend any more time than could be spared before their movie was set to start.

While they ate, they talked. It had taken time but Mia relaxed with him, sharing her thoughts and feelings with him easier. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly as he smiled. Red stubble framed his laugh.

He looked good like this, casual and at ease eating fast food.

~~~~~<3

Nerves hit her as Tom parked her car in the casino parking lot. It had surprised him that most of the Movie theaters were in casino resorts. Las Vegas was a strange place to anyone who hadn’t spent a lot of time there. It was no wonder why people struggled to remember that there was families living and raising their children there when community things like theaters only existed in resorts. The city felt more like an adult playground than a home to most who didn’t have to call it home.

She had hesitated to get out of the car. They didn’t have a lot of time until the movie was set to start and she knew she needed to get herself moving. It was just hard though.

Maybe everyone would be too drunk to recognize him? Not likely but it was worth trying to hope for it.

Tom opened her car door, startling her. She hadn’t noticed him get out of the driver’s seat or make his way around at all, too busy stuck in her own head.

Holding his hand out to her, he said “Come on.”

Standing and straightening her dress, she felt overdressed. She wished she could go back in time and pick out a more casual dress.

“Talk to me.” He kept his voice low, tucking her arm around his as he lead her toward the building.

“I’m over dressed. This dress is too much.”

“You’re beautiful,” Tom stopped, holding her out in front of him so he could take her in again before tucking her on his arm again. “You’re perfect.”

She snorted and Tom smiled to himself as she protested, “I am far from perfect.”

“All of us are,” He countered and she rolled her eyes at his words as he held the door open for her.

The lights in the theater lobby were bright. Mia hesitated to step forward into the light. It had felt safe, well safer, in the dim lights of the casino that felt like home. Tom looked down at her, eyes soft.

This was the part of his life that had ruined things last time. He had to believe that she could do this. He needed her to be able to do this.

“Hold your head up high,” je told her, squeezing her hand and holding her eyes with his. “Let’s get some popcorn and drinks.”

“Two for Thor.” Tom requested and waited. It didn’t take long before what Mia had been dreading happened.

“You’re-” Tom smiled sheepishly at flustered look the kid behind the counter gave them. “You’re Tom Hiddleston, aren’t you?”

He chuckled that rather unique laugh of his as he handed his card over to the young man working the counter. “I am.”

“Can I get a picture with you?” The kid was already grabbing his cell phone.

“Of course.” It was surreal to see Tom like this, to see him very much working in person.

She stepped back when his hand left hers. He took the young man’s phone in his hand and leaned back over the counter while the employee leaned forward. Tom snapped a few pictures while she kept herself off to the side before handing the phone back.

Tom wrapped his arm around her waist as he stepped back to her side. When the ticket clerk thanked him again, he waved.

“That was nice of you.” Mia spoke softly as he pulled her tighter to his side.

“It’s a part of the job.” Tom held her close. He could just see in the corner of his eye the young man taking a few pictures of them while they walked. That was a part of the job he didn’t like. His privacy was valuable and he was more than happy to take pictures with people. “I love it when I get to interact with fans.”

Mia couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounds so, so-”

“So what?” Tom couldn’t help laughing with her as they approached the counter.

“Like some cocky actor.”

“I’ll have you know, Mrs. Hiddleston, that I am a cocky actor.”

~~~~~<3

Tom was engrossed with watching her watch the movie. She wasn’t one for superhero movies, she had told him and yet she sat next to him almost totally absorbed by the film. Absently, she would grab some popcorn or sip at her soda.

She was beautiful, bathed in the light from the screen and he struggled to take his eyes from her. He didn’t particularly care about watching the movie. He had seen it before and watching it more than the first screening felt narcissistic so he watched her watch him.

The theater had been chilly, just as he had expected and it didn’t take long for him to see her rubbing her lace covered arms. There was hardly an attempt of denying the jacket when he offered.

Now it was draped over her arms, clearly too big for her and swallowing her. He watched as her as the camera focused on his character on the screen. Her eyes quickly welled with tears as Loki yelled his heartbreak at his father.

Never in his life had Tom been so invested in watching someone watch one of his films. Seeing how his character, the villain by all accounts, moved the woman he… he cared for deeply was fascinating.

This was the power of Loki, a budding character that had the potential to be so much more.

She was so absorbed in the film, both the story of Loki and the depth of his acting that she didn’t even feel his eyes on her. Her heart broke for Loki as he spiraled into what clearly was a mental breakdown.

The goals of the character at the start of the film was warped, changed and corrupted in his heartbreak and she could only watch. This was not the shallow plot and characterization she had gone into a superhero movie expecting.

Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her as the final battle came crashing to an end. He was beyond invested in how she would react to his final scene.

Her hand hovered, popcorn hanging from her fingers as Loki cried out for his father’s approval. The bravado and anger was stripped from the character on the screen and again, tears sparkled in her eyes.

She cared so deeply about the bad guy that she was near tears for his pain. Tom was extremely proud of his performance as Loki but this was a validation he didn’t know he wanted.

“Did he just?” She whispered, shocked as Loki let go of everything and fell away.

“Hmm?” Tom leaned toward her and planted a soft kiss on the side of her head, action on impulse and not even the slightest bit thought out.

“Did he just commit suicide?”

“An impulsive action fueled by grief and pain.” Tom was tickled by her reactions. This was what he lived for as an actor, the way his performances manipulated the emotions of the audience. It was an even more powerful boost to his ego to have the woman he… he cared for so moved by his work.

“Right in front of his family? How traumatic.”

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

“Here,” He held the water out to her but she didn’t move. “Asleep already?”

Setting the glass on the tabletop, he stood there and admired her. Long legs were tucked up slightly toward her chest, highlighting the curve of her ass. Soft was the best way he could think of to describe her. She was nothing but soft sweeping curves.

Tom wanted to sleep. The alcohol weighed on his brain, lulling him. He needed to sleep. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish as he pulled the banket down on one side of the bed. It was a struggle, between the heavy limbs, fuzzy fingers and the hotel staff having tucked the bedding under the mattress but eventually he got it.

Lifting her from the bed, he smiled at the feeling of having her naked body in his arms. This was his first night as a husband. He had a wife to hold and damned if he didn’t enjoy it.

It took a few tries before he could tuck her feet under the bedding he hadn’t been able to free. Then he nestled her down on the mattress. She tucked her arms against her chest in her sleep and he admired the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist.

He wanted her again. He wanted to burry himself deep in her. He longed to be surrounded by her again, seeking the pleasure only a woman could give him.

He also longed for sleep.

Even if she hadn’t fallen right to sleep, Tom suspected even if she was awake, his ability to perform a second round was significantly compromised at best. It was better to sleep. He could take her again in the morning.

She was his wife now. They could indulge in eachother as often as they wanted.

He didn’t want to give up the view of her naked body but he did, reluctantly. While he made his way around the bed, he stumbled over his heavy feet. Sleep was defiantly needed.

Tom grabbed the champagne bottle off the tabletop and took a long pull from it as he stood naked in the dim room. He did it, he thought. This was the beginning of his life as a married man.

He stumbled into the bed and wiggled his way under the blankets. The swimming in his head became much worse as soon as he laid down. It took everything in him to slap off the lamp. Tom turned into her and snaked his arm around her waist.

Holding her against his body, he was asleep nearly instantly, holding his most prized achievement in his arms.

~~~~~<3

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