#Bullet Hell Monday

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Ooooookay so not sure im gonna keep going to walmart to get my groceries unless absolutely necessary cuz the one closest to my house is awful

Its fucking massive. The app tells you the wrong aisles for everything. And there were way too many fucking people. Not a fan.

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Getting through your second presentation feels like a battle of wits against your own body. Then after weeks of barely being able to stomach anything, you are presented with the most enticing dinner. But it's the food that's alluring, not your dinner mate, and Bradley has a few things to say about the mess you get yourself caught up in.

Warnings: Swearing, adult language, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff, phone sex, masturbation

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You slept like a lovesick log after your long drive back to the hotel from the cemetery. Exhausted from throwing up in the shrubs, you curled up in bed and watched the video you took for your son or daughter. You had recorded yourself reading both headstones and having a little conversation with your in-laws about the baby. It was just meant to be something you and Bradley could watch one day with the nugget, but it brought a smile to your face. 

You were decidedly no longer smiling when you woke up on Wednesday and had to race to the toilet. "Why is this happening again?" you asked the bath mat as you curled up in a ball. You had another, longer presentation to give. You had admirals to chat with. You had a whole lot to get done today. You didn't have time for this right now.

Even brushing your teeth was a chore. Changing into your uniform was an issue. At least your pants felt a little looser today. You honestly could not keep up with the way your body was bloated half the time and normal the rest of the time. 

You realized your makeup was pretty much the only thing holding your life together at the moment as you swiped on some mascara. Then there was a knock at your door, and it felt like you were doing the same thing all over again today, because essentially you were. You and Cat had to struggle with the bin of equipment. You had to fight to stay awake in the rental car. The nausea was turning  your life into a game of sheer determination to keep the bagel that you ate from coming back up. 

"Are you okay?" Cat asked you a few minutes before the presentation was about to start. 

"Of course," you told her in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. "Why wouldn't I be?" You shrugged and smiled serenely at her. 

"Because you're sweating bullets. And you've been pacing around the hallway."

You cleared your throat and insisted, "It's just really hot in here."

"It's not," she replied. "Please. I'm begging you. Just keep it together for another ninety minutes, okay? After that, you can do anything you want. Hell, I'll do anything you want me to do. But we need to get through this presentation." 

Her voice sounded panicked, and now you were looking around the hallway for a garbage can. But it was too late. The two of you were being called into the presentation room. Commander Patterson and Admiral Klein were sitting in the front row smiling at you. Shit, more admirals were here today. Oh fuck, all of these people wanted to hear your extended presentaion. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck, past your shoulder blades and along your spine. You wanted Bradley. You wanted Bradley to hold you and let you throw up everywhere and tell you that you were still pretty and that he loved you even if you cried on the toilet and ate crackers while you lay on the floor. 

Tears burned your eyes, and Cat looked like she was going to scream. Pull it together. Ignore the sensation. Clip the microphone onto your shirt. Start talking. 

"Good afternoon. Lieutenant Coleman and I are back to expound upon our research presentation from Monday which covered communications engineering at Top Gun. You can find a copy of our slides in the information packet in front of you. Please hold your questions until we pause for a break. Let's get started."

--------------------------

Bradley really wasn't doing well without you at home. He was barely eating anything besides cereal and sandwiches, and he was going to bed hungry at night. The only fun he'd been having was slowly filling up that pink and blue notebook with his musings for the little nugget.

He was having a hard time sleeping, and he didn't like how quiet the house was. Even Tramp kept looking for you, occasionally running to the front door and whimpering. "We'll see her on Friday," he told the dog as he had potato chips and coffee for breakfast on Wednesday morning. "Two more days of this bullshit." 

When he got home from work on Tuesday, he broke down in tears as he looked at the photos you sent him from the cemetery. You even took a video where you were talking to him and the nugget and his parents. He still couldn't believe you took the time to drive there and make it so special for him. After he finished crying, he made his way back up to the attic where he took the half wall down to the studs. Then he realized that he really needed to call some contractors before you came home and saw the mess he made. 

While he drove to work in the red Bronco, he left messages, hoping to get some estimates in the next week or so. One thing that he'd been slowly coming to terms with was the fact that you didn't need him to take care of you by paying for everything. Both of your incomes were going toward the mortgage payments and all the necessities. You'd both been saving money for the future, and he figured the future had arrived since there was a baby on the way. 

When he parked in the garage on base, he noticed he had some new texts from you.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: I miss you. I'm struggling today. I think the nugget hates me. I'll call you later after my presentation and all of this other shit is over. 

He wanted to text you back, but he didn't want to be a distraction, so he tucked his phone into his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. He had been reading every pregnancy article online that he could find, but none of the tricks he saw were helping you with the nausea. You were probably just going to have to wait it out. He would be ready to rub your shoulders and put a cool washcloth on the back of your neck when you got home.

Bradley walked the long way around to the classrooms since he was early and didn't need to stop in the locker room to change. When he passed the stairwell that would have taken him up to your office and the engineering labs, he swore he heard Bob's voice. He paused, and he definitely heard Bob's laugh. When the door to the stairs opened, he heard Bob say, "We can always find out later tonight if you want to invite me to your room again." And then there was a very familiar, feminine laugh before Bob appeared ten feet ahead of him.

He stared at Bob, and Bob stared back as the door closed, leaving the two of them alone. Bradley thought back to the way Bob and Maria were looking a little cozy at brunch last Sunday. This was interesting.

"Hey, Bob," Bradley said with a grin. "How are you enjoying your new apartment with Maria?"

His cheeks immediately flushed pink, and Bradley bit his lip to keep quiet as Bob started stuttering. Frankly, he was proud of his friend for sounding so much more self assured a few seconds ago when he was tucked inside the stairwell with Maria. "I-I d-don't know... are y-you... I d-din't think that..."

Bradley let him flounder through a few more partial sentences before he said, "If you're hooking up with Maria Wilson, then good for you, man. Well done."

Bob cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and ran his hand along the back of his neck. "Thanks," he muttered as he stared at the floor. 

"You want me to keep this information to myself?"

Bob's blue eyes went wide as they met Bradley's. "Please." He swallowed hard. "I don't think she wants anyone else to know." His voice was just a whisper as he said, "I'm sure she'd be embarrassed if people found out."

Then he turned and left Bradley standing there alone. He'd been in that position before with you. Before you made things official. And he had been miserable. "Poor Bob," he muttered as he followed him at a distance. The best case scenario would be if Maria confided in you when you got back from Annapolis. Bradley would have to be cool about you going to brunch on Sunday even though he already wanted you and the baby all to himself again all weekend.

-----------------------

You made it. Somehow you got through the full hour and a half. You nailed your parts, and so did Cat. You and she answered questions for at least an additional thirty minutes, and now she was packing up the equipment while you sent a quick text to Bickel. 

"Your research is very compelling, Lieutenant Commander."

You looked up into the eyes of Commander Patterson, and he smiled warmly at you. Unfortunately, the only thing you could really think about was the way you'd been picturing Bradley's cock the last time you talked to him. At the moment, you were so fucking horny, you felt like rubbing yourself against the wall and crying until you got some relief.

"Thank you, sir," you managed to say while you tried to focus on his face and his words. "It has really become a passion project, trying to keep actual aviators in the air versus the drone agenda. Real people making real decisions based on their surroundings and the immediate threats they are facing will always win out against a laboratory manufactured software protocol."

"I couldn't agree more." He took a step closer and said, "And the way you presented your findings made it so clear that you're eager for others to understand how important that is as well."

"Absolutely," you told him with a smile of your own. "And the funding for communications research is so important." 

You were probably going to have to go to the cocktail hour tonight just to get your face out there since you skipped the previous one to drive to Virginia. But you were almost instantly saved from having to do that as Commander Patterson said, "I'm planning on having dinner this evening with a few of the admirals if you'd like to join us. Cocktail attire. Overpriced steaks. You know, the usual." 

His slight eye roll had you laughing and agreeing immediately. That sounded a lot better than trying to ditch champagne flutes all night. You'd still be able to chat with some superiors, and right now, you were actually hungry. "That sounds great. I'll see if Lieutenant Coleman can join as well."

With that, his smile wavered a bit, but he told you the name of the restaurant, and you promised to be there at seven o'clock. Cat had all the equipment packed up, and she was ready for you to help her carry the bin. "Hey, you want to come eat an overpriced steak later? With Commander Patterson and some others?" you asked as you tried your best to lift with your legs.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I already agreed to some stupid happy hour with a handful of admirals, but I love overpriced food when you don't have to pay for it."

You laughed and said, "That's probably better. We can divide and conquer this way. Bickel will like that."

As the two of you hoisted the bin into the rental car, Cat smiled and said, "You know what else he'll like? The fact that we nailed the presentation again today. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Don't do it again," you told her with a smirk. Of course then you promptly started falling asleep while she drove back to the hotel, and when you got to your room, you passed out in bed until it was time to get ready for dinner. 

It was only three o'clock for Bradley, and even though you wanted to call him, you decided to wait a little longer. You inhaled a pack of peanut butter crackers while your stomach growled loudly. "What is with you today?" you asked the baby. "You're finally hungry? Or are you going to make me barf again?" You got a loud rumble in response. "I know you like Daddy better, and we'll be home in two days. Relax."

As you redid your makeup, you started thinking about Bradley. And then you thought about how delicious he smelled right after he finished a workout. And then you thought about how nice and big his cock is. And then you thought about all the sounds he makes and the way me moans your name when his cock is inside you.

"Oh hell," you whined, pressing your thighs together. You needed to get some relief with your toys until you could get back home, but you didn't have time for that right now. The combination of being so hungry and so horny was almost too much to handle, and you ended up calling Bradley on the short drive to the restaurant. It was barely four there, so you were surprised when he answered. 

"Hey, Sweetheart."

Two words. He said two fucking words, and you were moaning and having a hard time focusing to drive. "Roo. Oh my god."

"What's wrong?" he snapped immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you gasped, parking the car and squeezing the steering wheel. "I'm just so horny. And Commander Patterson asked me out to dinner, and I seriously need to get fucked, Bradley. Like you have no idea how bad it is right now."

You could hear him mutter something, and then you thought you heard Jake's voice before Bradley quietly said, "Baby Girl, I'll fuck the absolute shit out of you all weekend. In fact, I can't wait to do that. I'll take care of everything you need."

"Daddy," you moaned, realizing you should have masturbated instead of taking that nap.

"But please tell me who the fuck Commander Patterson is. All I know is that you said he's that guy who asked if Top Gun aviation is the right fit for you?" Another moan escaped your lips as you thought about being a tight fit for your husband. "Yeah, you sound wrecked, Sweetheart," he crooned in that raspy voice. "I don't think you should go to dinner with some guy I don't know. I don't care what his rank is.

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's not just with him. Some admirals are coming too. I need to meet the admirals, Bradley. And I'm already at the restaurant." When you looked further up the block, you saw Patterson heading inside.

Bradley made a frustrated sound. "Text me when you can? And call me when you're leaving later?"

"I will," you promised as your stomach growled. You were so excited that the nugget seemed to want to eat this steak, you almost hung up before you said, "I love you."

You straightened out your black cocktail dress as you practically ran down the sidewalk in your high heels which you rarely ever wore except in your bedroom with your husband. The delicious smells from the restaurant were wafting out onto the sidewalk, and you were going to cry if there wasn't some bread or something already waiting on the table. 

"There you are, Lieutenant Commander." 

Patterson was waiting inside the entryway where at least the sound of the air conditioner blasting and the conversation around you was blocking out your growling stomach. He was smiling as his hand found the small of your back. "Our table is ready. We can go right there." 

When he applied some pressure with his hand, you lurched forward. Perhaps he was just trying to help you navigate through the crowd, but he could keep his hands to himself. He must have known you were married. You decided to make a show of pointing out some hideous artwork with your left hand, practically shoving your rings in his face. "That's a lovely painting, Commander," you told him, but he just smiled and nodded at you before pulling out a chair at a table set for four.

"Please, call me Derek," he told you as he sank down into the seat across from you, and then he started using your first name without permission. The one blessing was the fact that there was an enormous basket of bread sitting right in the middle of the table along with a variety of spreads and dips. 

You moaned softly and had to bite your lip as you reached for a soft looking roll and the chive butter. Derek was staring at you with parted lips and wide pupils. Had he never seen a woman eat before? Had you ever been this hungry before? You licked your lips as you spread some of the butter onto the roll, and then you took a bite and moaned again. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

After weeks of feeling miserable, you finally knew you could stomach this meal right now. You were still so turned on, and yet your exhaustion was bone deep at this point, but the bread was like a lifeline to normalcy, and you were grabbing onto it. 

Derek cleared his throat as he watched you take those first few sumptuous bites. "I've got to know," he said smoothly, "exactly what would lure you back to Annapolis for good?"

You popped the rest of the roll between your lips and chewed it up before you said, "Nothing."

"There would have to be something. Better research facilities? Your own lab? Both of your degrees and your work are so impressive, you must know there would be endless possibilities for you here."

You were shocked. Running your own lab was your dream. The idea of being in charge of a research team made your skin prickle with desire. You hoped that could be a possibility someday, but you weren't even thirty-five yet. You figured maybe ten years from now when Bickel was getting ready to retire, you'd be able to take his place. 

"My own lab?"

Derek smiled, all white teeth and handsome expression, and then the waitress arrived. You wanted to jump out of your seat and hug her when she asked if you'd like to order any appetizers.

"Do you know when the others will be here?" you asked Derek. "Should we wait to order?"

He shook his head vaguely. "They'll be late. We can order. Get whatever you want."

You almost laughed giddily as you ordered three appetizers and then a steak dinner complete with garlic mashed potatoes and two vegetables. "We can share the appetizers," you said when he looked at you in surprise, even though you didn't want to. You placed your hand on your belly, trying to subtly thank the baby for cooperating right now. 

When the waitress finished taking his order and then departed, you asked, "Which admirals are joining us?"

"Hmm? Oh... uh, Rivera and Silverman."

You were not familiar with either of them which made you panic slightly. You should have done more research on who was attending each of the lectures. Why hadn't you done that? Oh, right... because you were too busy throwing up. The bread basket called to you, and before you knew it, you'd eaten more than half while Derek droned on about how amazing you'd be running your own lab. He didn't even know you, which made this more annoying than anything else, but your stomach was holding up spectacularly, so you could overlook it. You could have kissed the waitress when she came back with the appetizers.

"So, do you live alone?" he asked as you dipped two mozzarella sticks into some marinara sauce. You paused before shoving them into your mouth so you could chuckle. 

"No. I live with my husband and our dog." Then the fried cheese hit your tongue, and it was like you were living in a world of color after weeks in black and white. Your stomach gurgled pleasantly, finally accepting food once again. Tears of joy stung at your eyes as you took a forkful of crispy brussels sprouts and a potato skin.

Derek laughed and asked how old you were, but your mouth was full, so he said, "Let's just say, my career in Annapolis outlived my bad marriage. And that's been the case for many, many officers."

You swallowed the potato like it was a lead weight. That had definitely been the case for Cat, unfortunately. And you'd heard a lot of stories, sure, especially when you were at the Naval Academy. And perhaps that was part of the reason you fought against the mere idea of being with Bradley at first. One officer in a relationship with a civilian was bad enough, but two officers trying to make it happen together usually spelled disaster.

But you felt stronger with Bradley. The two of you worked hard to get through your struggles and end up in a better place. You and he were going to be parents, for fuck's sake. 

"Just sharing my two cents with you," Derek added, still smiling. "You're young, and you haven't lived it yet, but I can tell you that you'll go farther here than in San Diego. Especially if you're already open to the idea of having more."

You wanted to check the time on your phone; you must have been sitting here for over half an hour by now. The other two chairs were still empty. Derek was starting to get under your skin. 

"I'm open to the idea of pursuing my career at Top Gun along with my husband."

"He's an officer as well?" Derek asked with a laugh. "I'm sure he's having a great week back in San Diego without you."

You felt heat flame up your neck and into your cheeks as your steak dinners arrived. "Yes, he's an officer. He's a Top Gun aviator."

"He deploys?" Derek asked in disbelief before laughing harder. "You should make the move back to the east coast now, before he ruins your life. If he hasn't already."

He had gone from complimenting you to trying to humiliate you in a matter of minutes. You'd been blinded by the glorious meal, but the truth hit you square in the chest. As he picked up his fork and steak knife, you asked, "Why did you lie to me about two admirals coming? Do Rivera and Silverman even exist?"

Somehow his smile was still persistent as he said, "Sure, they exist. They went to the cocktail reception on base." You watched the knife sink into his steak as he added, "You're gorgeous. I wanted to get you alone. Let you know how much better things could be. Offer to set you up for a one-on-one meeting with Admiral Jennings tomorrow if you come home with me tonight. It's on the table if you want it."

In one quick movement, you snatched his plate away from him with the fork still stuck in the steak. "Okay, well fuck you, Derek," you snarled, standing up and waving for the waitress. "You're disgusting and delusional if you thought I would even consider going home with you."

"Can I get you anything?" the waitress asked cautiously, and you realized you were causing a bit of a scene now in the crowded restaurant. 

"Yes. I need boxes. Like a whole bunch of takeout boxes," you told her. "I'm taking all of this food with me."

"Right," the waitress replied, her gaze drifting to Derek who looked very unamused. 

"I'm taking his meal, too," you snapped. "Hurry up with the boxes."

She scurried away as you piled all of the food onto one plate and said, "You're so fucking stupid, Derek. I already have Admiral Jennings' phone number. I met her last year. I told her to her face that I'm staying in San Diego."

"Well then you're making a bad choice," he told you.

Then the waitress set down some takeout containers while you practically tossed the empty plate back at Derek. You scraped as much of the food into the first box as would fit before moving to the second one. "He's paying for dinner," you told the waitress. "And I'm taking one fork and one steak knife with me. He'll pay for those as well." You shoved the rest of the bread into the last box and then stacked them all up before meeting Derek's eyes. "You just ruined the first meal I've been able to stomach in weeks, asshole. And my husband is a nice man. Very sweet. Treats people with respect. But if he were here right now, you'd have a bloody face and some broken ribs." 

You picked up the boxes, grabbed the utensils, and made your way toward the exit. You went straight for your rental car and climbed inside before cranking the engine. Then you took a massive bite of garlic mashed potatoes before cutting off a piece of Derek's steak while you called your husband. 

-------------------------

Bradley was working out in the garage when your ringtone cut across the playlist you made for him. He practically dropped his barbell to the cement floor to get his phone from where it was sitting on the tool chest. "Sweetheart. I wasn't expecting to hear from you quite yet. Didn't we just get off the phone?" he asked with a smile as he ran his forearm along his sweaty face. "Not that I mind one bit." He was about to ask if you were done with dinner, but then he realized that you were crying. The sweat on his skin turned ice cold as he quickly asked, "What's wrong?"

"Roo," you wailed, and he started looking around the garage as if there was something out here that would help both of you calm down. "He ruined my fucking dinner!" you sobbed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked as he paced the length of the garage, running his fingers through his damp hair. "Who ruined it?"

"Commander Patterson."

Bradley honestly could not fathom how that guy had ruined your dinner. All he knew was that you told him you were horny as hell when you got to the restaurant, and that he didn't trust guys he didn't know around you. Most men were disgusting, and you were lovely and also pregnant with his child.

"Can you explain what happened so I can understand?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"Yeah," you sniffed, and he heard a car engine start up in the background. "The nugget and I were both really enjoying the food. Like really enjoying it, Bradley. You know how I've been, and this was delectable and exactly what we both wanted. Like it was so good, if you'd been there with me looking super sexy, I would have probably had an orgasm in the middle of the damn restaurant."

Bradley swallowed hard as he stood in the garage, wondering where the hell this was going. "I understand. You haven't been able to eat much, so that must have felt amazing. Now can you tell me what's wrong?"

"He ruined it!" you replied loudly. "He lied to me! There were no admirals planning on joining us. He tricked me into meeting him there, and then he gave me fake compliments and accolades about my work. He told me that I could get ahead with a career in Annapolis if I slept with him, all because he wanted to fuck me!"

Bradley almost dropped his phone. "Did he touch you?" he growled, switching to speaker phone as he rushed through the backyard toward the house and looked for flights to Maryland at the same time. "Did he fucking touch you?!"

"No!" you practically shrieked. "No, he didn't touch me! You think I'd let him get anywhere near me after he ruined my dinner?"

"Where are you now?" he demanded. "And what's this Commander fucking Patterson's first name?" 

Bradley was seeing red as he walked inside and slammed the sliding glass door behind him, and Tramp ran whimpering into the spare room. The earliest he could get out of San Diego on an eastbound flight was a red eye that left at 9:30, and that was nearly four hours from now.

"I'm not telling you his name," you said softly with a little sniff at the end. "I'm afraid you'll strangle him."

Frankly, if Bradley got his hands on the asshole, he'd probably wish all he got was strangled to death. "Where are you now?" he asked again, trying to keep his voice calmer.

"In my rental car."

"Alone?

"Yes!"

"Good," he replied as he clenched and unclenched his fist and headed for the shower. "Go back to your hotel room, and text me the address. I'll stay on the phone with you until you get there, and then I'll be out on a red eye that lands in Annapolis at 5:55 tomorrow morning local time. And then you'll tell me his first name, and I'll beat the shit out of him for ruining your dinner and acting like my wife is his for the taking."

"Bradley," you said firmly. "I do not need you to come out here. I already feel better now that I told you about it."

"Well, I sure as fucking hell don't," he grunted, peeling off his sweaty clothes in the bathroom. "Does he know which hotel you're staying at? And where the hell is Cat?"

You groaned and said, "No, he doesn't know. And Cat went to the actual cocktail reception with the actual admirals. I seriously hate Commander Patterson. But I did steal his dinner, so that's making me feel a little bit better."

His thumb was hovering over his phone screen, ready to purchase a seat on this flight. "Wait, you stole his dinner?"

"Yes. I took it. When I tell you the food was that good, Bradley, I am not joking. I housed most of the appetizers and the bread basket, and then I took his plate before he even got a bite of his porterhouse. I dumped all of the food into takeout boxes, took some silverware, told the waitress he'd pay for everything, and then I left."

Bradley burst into laughter in spite of himself. He could actually picture it so clearly. The haughty expression on your face. Your biting wit once you figured out what was going on. The way you must have looked dumping the steaks into the containers. "You're a damn force to be reckoned with, Baby Girl. Are you driving back to the hotel with all the food?"

"Yeah. I mean I did eat a few bites when I first got back in the car, because the baby was demanding it, but I'm absolutely going to eat the rest in my room. Fuck that guy. He doesn't even deserve his overpriced steak. It's mine now."

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hand and laughed. "Do you really not need me to come out there?"

He heard you take a deep breath before you said, "I miss you a lot, but I really do not need you to come out, okay? The nugget and I are fine now, ruined dinner aside."

"Alright," he murmured. "If you change your mind, you have two hours to let me know, and I'll be knocking on your door by 7 in the morning."

You moaned and whispered, "God, that does sound good. I'm back at the hotel. Heading up to my room now. Any chance you feel like having phone sex before I eat my two steaks and roughly four pounds of potatoes?"

"Fuck," he grunted, his cock already getting hard as he looked down at himself. "Yeah. A hundred percent. Let me just get in the shower here."

"Okay, Daddy," you muttered, and Bradley was practically tripping over himself as he started up the spray of water. Once you were safely inside your room, you told him, "I'm ready when you are."

-------------------------

You got off twice to your vibrator and your husband's sexy voice. It was so easy to imagine him in the shower with the sound of the water in the background. You could picture the steam snaking around his body while he held his thick cock in his hand. You could practically taste his skin and smell the body wash he was definitely using as lube. 

"That's my sweet girl," he crooned as you started to peak for the second time. "When I get you home on Friday, my mouth is going to be all over that pussy. I miss you so much. I want my wife and my baby with me."

"Bradley," you whined, legs bent and shaking as you got closer. "I need you to fuck me. I'm so goddamn horny for you!"

He grunted right into the phone and said, "Keep it up, and I'll break your new car at the airport, too."

And then you came. Hard. Your chest was sweaty. Your back was arching off the bed. The vibrator rolled out of your grasp, and you stroked yourself with your fingers and whispered his name over and over. 

"I'm about to come," Bradley moaned. And you could hear the exact second he was probably making a white mess all over the tile wall. You imagined it on your belly instead. 

You just wanted to go home, and when your back finally settled against the bedding you said, "I need you to promise to fuck me at least twenty times between Friday night and Monday morning."

"Make it thirty, Sweetheart," he crooned as he panted. "At least. I fucking need it, too."

You turned your head to the side where a photo of him was still pulled up on your phone. "Sounds perfect. Don't forget, I'm having dinner with my mom and dad tomorrow, so please FaceTime when you're walking out of work if you can."

"For the love of all things holy, please don't talk about your parents when I'm still holding my cock."

You giggled, and then he laughed. "I won't do it again," you promised as you sat up in bed, eyeing the takeout containers on the desk. "I love you, Roo. I'm going to eat Derek Patteron's steak, take a shower, and then pass out."

"I love you too, Baby Girl. Can you put your phone down by your belly?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, pressing your lips together to keep from squealing at how sweet this man was.

"And I love you, too, my little nugget. Be nice to Mommy."

---------------------------

BG is all over the place... Roo probably has whiplash. Derek should be punished for ruining that meal for her and the baby. Just a few chapters left, and we'll have another series for them in the books! Thanks for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 34

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[neuroticboyfriend]

I just saw a post someone made about what they usually do in a day (re: disability) and it really made me feel less alone. I've been really beating myself up for not doing or being enough. So I wanna share what my days are like too.

I wake up anywhere between 9:30am and 3pm, because I can't keep a consistent sleep schedule.

I pray, take my morning meds, and hydrate.

I sit in my room for around 30 minutes to an hour and a half, depending on if I have the wherewithal to leave my room or, if I have somewhere to be.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I have therapy in the afternoon. The ride comes around 11 on Tues/Weds. I miss appointments a lot, and spend around 3 hours at the clinic when I do go.

*I may eat a meal, or have a snack. Maybe not, who knows. I sit on the couch, on my phone/computer. Lately been playing minecraft with a few small creative activities sprinkled in.*

At 4:45pm, every day, I go across the street to work on addiction recovery. I come home around 6:15-6:30pm. Mondays I take a ride with some friends to another place, from around 6:30 to 8:30pm.

Repeat asterisked bullet. Except maybe I watch something with my boyfriend. Maybe I call a few friends, if I didnt already early/for a few days.

Around 7:30-9:00pm I work on my addiction recovery at home.

More lounging on the couch on my computer/etc. Take meds between 10:45pm-12am. Hopefully I can get back to taking them at 9:30.

Fall asleep around 1-3am.

Repeat (+ i bring my cane or rollator, and fidgets, and often earbuds, everywhere i go). I only shower or do laundry when the energy burden is worth not feeling like total crap.

And you know what. That's enough. I'm alive. I'm sober. I may be in a lot of pain, may have a lot of fatigue, may still struggle with depression and mood swings and anxiety, but. That doesn't make a bad person. It just makes me a person - one with disabilties. I am inherently worthy just by virtue of being alive, too.

What you don't see by that list is the kindness I share with my friends. Or the strength it takes to get through the day. Or any of the personal emotional and spiritual moments I have, or any of my dreams. But I see them, the people close to me see them, and they don't want me to hurt or hate myself.

So to hell with what anyone else thinks or has said to me. What matters is that I love, and I am loved, and I always will be. Because there will always be people in this world who see me as a person and love me unconditionally for it. This world is bigger than the people who spread hate.

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie's Memory Log: Day 30

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 4 here | part 5 here | part 6 here

(ao3 link here)

After one whole month of documenting Eddie Munson’s semi-fucked memory levels, Steve has come across a few crucial bullet points:

Eddie never forgets his own name.

If Eddie’s pain levels are bad, so are his memories.

Eddie likes the lime jello better than the chocolate pudding, except he always forgets.

Eddie’s memory is worse after the weekend, but it gets better throughout the week.

Eddie can hum the theme songs to all of the shitty soap operas (even on bad days).

Eddie’s memory is at its best if he’s had multiple visitors the day before.

And maybe the most important bullet of them all:

Eddie always remembers three people (Wayne, Dustin, and Steve).

Memory Log: Day 31

It’s Monday, which means Steve hasn’t seen Eddie all weekend. The knuckleheads and Hellfire lemmings take the weekend shift since they don’t have school. Steve should be grateful for the time off, but he can’t help but wonder how Eddie is feeling - if he’s throwing hissy fits or being confectionery sweet to all of his guests.

The curiosity and concern has settled its way into Steve’s routine during his days off. That’s just how it is.

And that’s exactly why Mondays are becoming Steve’s (secret) favorite day, despite Eddie’s brain managing the slightest soft-reset after the weekend.

“Is he a Hyde or a Kathy today?” Steve asks the nurse at the visitor check-in counter.

He knows the majority of the staff by now, and they’ve all adopted his Eddie Behavioral Lingo. Steve is getting far too cocky about being the hospital trendsetter.

“He’s um…” the nurse's gaze drifts up to Eddie’s door.

Shit. Steve bursts into the room because he already knows exactly what that translates to.

It’s a high-pain day. Eddie affectionately calls them Grendel Days - he finally decided to play along with their lackluster literary references.

Oh yeah… Eddie remembers Beowulf

“Hey, hero.” Steve speaks in a lower volume because loud noises are brutal on days like this. “I heard that Grendel crashed the party today, huh?”

Admittedly, Steve had Dustin retell the important chunks of Beowulf to him cause there’s no way in Nerd Hell that Steve was going to read that fantasy bible of theirs.

Eddie squints one eye open to look at Steve. “That son of a bitch is trying to slice open my goddamn kidneys, I swear.”

“Should I get my nail bat?”

“You’re what?”

Damnit.

Eddie remembers zero fucking percent about their monster battles (and it’s probably best to keep it that way while he’s still recovering).

“Not important.” It is but whatever. Best to just change topics. “Can I interest you in any pain distractions?” 

“What are you gonna do exactly - open your letterman jacket and offer me a lollipop?”  Eddie snorts at his own joke before slumping over, holding his sides.

Steve wags his finger at him. “See, that is karma for being so mean to me all the time.”

“That?”

“All this pain you’re having.”

“Actually, I think it’s because I’m some type of Demonic Tinker Bell.” Eddie offers, fake coughing into his hand. “If not enough people are calling me freak, I start to die.”

It’s just a joke, but Steve is not so keen on his friends joking about things like Mortality anymore.

Still, he laughs. Plays along easily. “All hail the freak.”

Eddie stops his fake coughing fit.

“And just like that, my wings of darkness have returned.” Eddie flicks his wrist theatrically, giving Steve the weakest smile. “See? Much better.”

But it’s not Much Better. Eddie spends the rest of the visit seething with internal pains. Switchboard style - one area inflicting jolts of throbbing agony, then another. Eddie grabs wherever it hurts the most. Sometimes he can’t touch every pain point, it’s just too widespread.

Maybe Steve should… No. He’s not sure his hands could stop the hurt any better. He’s not a doctor and he’s not fucking magic. Steve is just the guy that wears offensively bright sweaters and watches Eddie’s torture spectacle from a front row seat.

They don’t talk much after that. 

Eddie can’t talk through the pain. And apparently… neither can Steve.

Memory Log: Day 35

The pain has been monstrous all week long. They’ve had to plug Eddie’s heart monitor back in because his heart rate tends to skyrocket when waves of pain hit. It used to be easy to forget that Eddie suffered anything other than head trauma.

Not anymore. Not with his room beeping like a terminal metronome at all hours.

Steve stops asking Eddie’s novel-based behavior levels because he already knows the answer. Wishes he didn’t.

“Munson?” The lights are off, which helps with Eddie’s headaches. That’s good. Less pain in his head, behind his eyes. Small victories.

“Go home.” Eddie’s breathing sounds labored.

Steve settles into his chair anyways. “Can’t.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Me neither.”

“Steve, I swear.”

“Like a sailor.”

Eddie chuckles. “Hurts to laugh.”

Seeing Eddie like this is god awful. He should be shredding on his guitar or mocking Dustin senseless for his clashing pattern combinations. He shouldn't be wrapping his arms around his torso, confining the pain that’s mangling him from the inside out.

“We’ve gotta find a way to get Grendel out of your system, man.” Steve bends down to Eddie’s eye level. “Cause this fucking blows.”

Eddie opens both eyes this time - they’re so sunken in. “… Grendel?”

Shit no.

If Eddie’s pain levels are bad, so are his memories.

Steve tries again anyway. “You know… from Beowulf?”

“Sounds cool.” Eddie eye’s close again. “Are they a band?”

Eddie doesn’t remember Beowulf.

“You think everything sounds like a band name…” Steve mumbles, ignoring the disappointment pinging in his mind.

Eddie reaches for the guitar pick on his neck - one of his bandmates brought it by a couple weeks ago. He rubs his thumb over it as if he can transfer memories through fingerprints.

“Hometown Slut.” Eddie sends a sideways smile over towards Steve. “Snatching virginities and record deals.”

Okay. Fuck. Eddie remembers inside jokes. That seems like a big fucking deal.

Steve attempts to not overreact with this revelation. Avoid another hair ruffling/thumbs-up situation. “Did you have to use the word ‘snatch’ in your weird little slogan?”

“Oh the word choice was very unavoidable, Stevie boy.”

Steve shuts the notebook, focuses on keeping Eddie distracted from his pain. “What about your band?”

“What about it?”

“Do you remem…” Steve searches for another phrase. “Do you think you can tell me the name?”

“Alright, please stop treating ‘remember’ like it’s a dirty word.” Eddie whines. “I’m not the fucking cable version of Breakfast Club. Stop censoring yourself around me.”

“Right.” Steve opens the binder back up.

Eddie doesn’t remember…

“Corroded Coffin.” 

Phew. Eddie does remember his band.

“Do you remember what instrument you play?” Steve puts emphasis on the un-censored word.

“Accordion.”

“Be serious.”

“Polka is dripping in sincerity.”

Steve pinches the skin between his eyebrows. Truly, it’s impressive that Eddie can still manage to be a massive prick, even when he’s writhing in pain. It’s like he’s going for the goddamn gold medal of assholery.

“Guitar.” Eddie dangles the pick around, somewhat peeved. “Now can we chill with the third degree for today, officer?”

Steve notices Eddie’s monitor is beeping faster than it was when he first entered the room. That sobers him up from his irritation.

“Yeah, sure.” He sighs. “No more questions for today.”

Eddie cuts him a devious look. “Well I didn’t say that now, did I?”

“Huh?”

“Oh the vapid look is not nearly as cute as you think it is.” Eddie lifts himself up slightly from his stack of pillows. He flattens them out and into a pillow wall as he sits upright. “How about I ask the questions today?”

“Why? I’m not the one who’s struggling with brain stuff.” Steve walks over to give him a hand. Eddies seems to be struggling with his strength, which is to be expected after becoming a fucking bat buffet.

“That’s debatable.” Eddie mumbles.

Steve’s close enough to feel his breath as he pushes the pillows comfortably around Eddie’s new sitting position. 

It’s not weird, the close contact or the breath. Steve has been helping Eddie with gross shit for a month - holding his hair when he starts puking or coughing up blood. Unraveling him from tubes and cords because Eddie is notorious for twisting himself into a medical straight jacket with this shit.

It’s not weird… it’s just weird how aware Steve is of Eddie’s breath. How warm and jagged it feels, even through his layered clothes.

Maybe Eddie is aware too, because he starts breathing through his nose the longer the silence is drawn out between them. Steve finally takes a step back, creates a non-breath-touching distance once again.

“Humor me then.” Eddie fills the tense pause.

Steve crosses his arms. “Don’t I always?”

“No. Usually, you aggravate me.” But see, why do Eddie’s eyes get all shimmery when he says snarky shit? And why does Steve suddenly use words like shimmery to describe Eddie Munson?

Why does it remind him of those sequined dresses that girls wear to homecoming dances when Eddie’s eyes do that shimmery thing? It’s like his mind is taking the insults and turning them into compliments, which is so bizarre.

“Steve?”

Shit, right. Say something instead of thinking about Eddie’s sequined eyes, goddamnit. “Yeah?” 

Real original, asshole.

“Just… look.” Eddie taps his fingers against this side of his bed. “There’s sharp pains shooting through every fucking limb on my body right now. I just need a distraction today - not a pop quiz.”

Yeah, Steve offered the distraction idea at the beginning of the week. But really, that’s not what he’s here to do. He’s here for the kids. He’s here to fill his jobless life with a meaningful task. Help Eddie the way he couldn’t help him in the Upside Down.

But the kids have no idea what it’s like every day. How some days, they are friendly and comfortable with one another. How some days, there’s a verbal boxing match between them - and on those days, they’re both the losers.

How some days, Steve is the one getting flustered instead of Eddie (who’s usually being called out for staring at Steve’s hair or arms or whatever else his eyes decide to fixate on).

Nobody else knows how many climates this hospital room can hold. Nobody besides Steve and Eddie.

“Fine.” Steve decides after mulling it over for far too long. “I’ll be your distraction.”

“Careful, Steve.” Eddie breaks the non-breath-touching distance, poking Steve’s wrist. “You almost sound flattered.”

“Hardly.” Bad time to bring up the word hard - when they’re seesawing between taunts and flirtations. Thank god for the binder Steve’s holding, obscuring any part of his anatomy that could potentially betray his coolness at the moment.

“Go ahead, Munson.” Steve backs away from Eddie’s touch. “Ask your questions.”

Eddie runs the entire thing as if he were a late night talk show host. Uses his hospital side table as his interview desk. Pretends his empty jello container is his microphone. Calls Steve his ‘special guest’ the whole time. Steve scoots his chair right next to Eddie’s bed, just to keep up the talk show charade. 

An hour into it, they’re both feeding off one another’s energy and attention. Steve can tell by the way Eddie’s fingers unclench from his sides and his teeth stop gritting together, that his pain is subsiding - or perhaps it’s no longer at the focal point of his mind. His heart monitor is at a tempo that seems ideal - less fast and less choppy. More like a ballad than a pop song.

Eddie’s questions range from common to outright strange. He asks Steve shit like, ‘what’s your favorite breakfast food?’ And then follows it up with, ‘okay - but if you could only eat scrambled eggs for dinner, would they still be your favorite breakfast? Or does time of day play a vital role in your food preferences?’

“Does it fucking matter?” Steve rolls his eyes. More than annoyed by Eddie’s constant need to play devil’s advocate.

“Nothing matters, Harrington.” Eddie replies. “And please stop answering my questions with more questions. This isn’t a goddamn improv game.”

Eddie remembers how to be a pain in the ass.

Steve doesn’t write it down, doesn’t really need to. “What the hell is an improv game?”

“I swear to Johnny Carson, I’ll kick you off my show.”

“Whatever.” Steve isn’t any less confused, but what’s new. “I guess time of day does matter a little bit.”

“Ha! Knew it. You’re so predictable.”

“And you’re a fucking handful.”

“That’s high praise coming from such an esteemed guest of the show.” Eddie’s hand is splayed over his chest, over his heart. The heart that’s beating like a ballad and not a pop song according to his monitor.

Okay stop.

Steve knows this is a game. A shtick. So why is his face heating up? Why are his palms sweatier than they were twenty minutes ago? Why does Steve keep wondering what Eddie’s eyelashes feel like against his cheek when he flutters them in that overly dramatic way?

The clock interrupts his questioning. Probably for the best.

They exchange goodbyes. Eddie always gets a little concerned that Steve might not show up again. Steve always tucks his bitchiness away to reassure Eddie that he’ll be back on Monday.

It’s their routine. Not just Steve’s routine. It’s theirs now.

Memory Log: Day 38

It’s Monday. Soft-reset day. Steve’s new favorite day.

“Hey, Steve.” One of the nurses stops him on his way to Eddie’s room. 

Her name is Sam - Steve likes Sam the best because she lets him stay longer on days when Eddie feels his shittiest. She also gives him gum to help with his nerves. 

Hospitals do that sometimes. They just activate his nerves like glow sticks. Snapping and crackling the radioactive colors that make his stomach churn.

Anyways, the gum helps.

“What’s up?” Steve asks.

“Just wondering,” Sam gives him a pleasant smile. “Do we have a code for Eddie’s good days?”

“Good days?” They don’t hear that phrase often around here. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you should think of one.” She starts flipping through some files. “He’s been in great spirits for three days now.”

Three days? Steve rarely gets three hours of Eddie being in great spirits. The guy is a perpetual ghoul, so this is definitely something to celebrate.

Steve makes a pit stop to the vending machine. Grabs them a couple of root beers and candy bars for the occasion. Look, it’s not champagne and hors d’oeuvres, but it’ll suffice. Besides, Eddie doesn’t strike him as a ritzy kind of dude anyways. He’d probably make some joke like, ‘you mean to tell me that a whore made these d’ouevres?’

Jesus christ, Steve’s been hanging out with Eddie for too long.

“There’s my favorite lady killer.” Eddie is already grinning as Steve walks in the door. 

Still remembers Steve is a Hometown Slut (of all the things that would stick to his brain… why that?)

“Seriously, you look sharp today.”

Steve’s knees lock at the compliment. “Um. Thanks. So do you.”

And the crazy part is, he means that. There’s a peachy color returning back to Eddie’s skin. The bags under his eyes are a faded gray instead of an Almost Black. 

And his hair. Eddie’s hair is actually untangled. His curls are fluffed out, sort of feathery at the ends. Maybe somebody trimmed all of the dead pieces off because it looks... Well, it looks nice.

Steve kind of hates to admit that.

“Guessing your pain levels are better?”

“You guess right.” Eddie nods. “Whatever meds they gave me Friday night finally kicked Grendel’s lousy ass.”

Eddie remembers Beowulf again.

“Glad to hear it.” Steve is trying to process how great things are going. Eddie’s complexion. Eddie’s memories. It’s never this clear on Mondays. Steve tries to just be grateful to have a day like this, but he can’t help but wonder why.

Why now?

“Eggs for breakfast?” Eddie is fiddling with his necklace again.

Steve jerks his head up. “You… didn’t forget?”

“Don’t get too excited.” Eddie gestures to Steve’s pants. “Because I wish I could forget those ridiculous khakis that you always wear on Mondays.”

“Shit, really?”

“What’s the deal with that anyways?” Eddie’s nose scrunches up at the question. “Laundry day or something?”

“I…” Yes.

“Or do you think your ass just looks better in lighter colors?”

“Well…” Also yes.

Eddie winks. “Looks like your ability to complete a sentence is just as fucked as my memory, huh Stevie?”

Steve nervously runs his hands through his hair. “This is just a lot to process, sorry.”

And it is. Steve starts jotting everything down before he starts to forget:

Eddie remembers Steve’s favorite breakfast food.

Eddie remembers Steve wearing khakis on previous Mondays.

Eddie remembers Steve’s Memory Fucked inside joke.

Eddie remembers a shit ton about Steve.

Eddie remembers.

Very lightly, Steve scribbles on the corner of the page:

Eddie notices Steve’s ass…

The rest of the visit is pretty awesome, one of the best ones they’ve ever had. Eddie recalls practically everything from Friday, which is blowing Steve’s mind. They talk about his visit with Dustin on Sunday, and how excited Eddie is to see Wayne on Thursday. Steve doesn’t even bother with taking more notes because Eddie remembers it all.

They talk like real friends today. Friends that occasionally notice other friend’s asses or get lost in their sequined eyes, but still. It’s somewhere in the ballpark of friends, right? Whatever it is, it’s better than ripping each other apart with insults. That’s gotta count for something.

Eddie falls asleep an hour before visiting hours are over. He falls asleep still smiling from the last joke he told before dozing off. Steve studies his facial features because he can finally see more of them (Eddie’s bangs were trimmed too, thank god). 

He’s still pretty banged up. Cuts that overlap and bruises that change gradient the further up they spread. As if the softer parts of Eddie are still freshly wounded. That’s not how it works, Steve has been beaten up enough to know that people don’t bruise like fruit. Not really.

Steve can just see more of Eddie now, which is proving to be a dangerous road to travel down. Way too many detours to let his mind wander. Think. Overthink.

He thinks Eddie is attractive. That’s the detour he’s taking tonight. And if this person didn’t already occupy so much space in his mind, that detour might be more shocking to him. But it’s barely registering on the shock-meter.

Eddie’s unharmed features are highlighted in attractiveness against the purples and grays and reds. It’s almost impossible not to notice that he’s attractive when his face has this many colors. This much character.

Steve doesn’t know what’s going on. This could all be his exhaustion kicking in. Or maybe Eddie’s great spirits has twisted Steve’s outlook on things. Or maybe it’s an illusion from the Better Day they’ve shared together.

The only clear answer that Steve has right now is that Eddie remembers him. And that fucking means something.

Steve stops by to tell Sam the good news on his way out.

“I think he’s getting better.”

Sam nods once. “He definitely feels better, I’ll give you that.”

“Sure, but…” Steve begins. “I think his memory is getting better too. He remembers the littlest details about me.”

“Steve.”

“That’s huge, right?” Steve is so awestruck. “Like… I don’t know, Sam. Maybe he’ll get to go home soon.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes just keep shifting between Steve and Eddie’s door.

“I think I need to show you something.”

That can’t be good. Her tone is very, ‘speak with me after class, young man.’

They quietly walk back into Eddie’s room. Sam motions her head for Steve to approach Eddie’s bedside. Cautiously, Steve does.

She gently pulls back Eddie’s thin blanket, and Steve feels the air vacate his fucking lungs.

Eddie’s arms. There’s tape and IVs and tattoos and scars - all of the usual stuff. 

But then there’s writing. Eddie is covered in black ink, scribbled notes filling in all the gaps of his pale skin. Steve can’t make out most of the words - it’s all messy.

But there’s one word he spots over and over again.

‘Steve.’

It’s all messy, sure. But it’s all about him.

“Holy shit.” Steve whispers, quickly looking towards Sam. “Sorry, didn’t mean to swear.”

“No, that’s an appropriate response.” Of course she’d be cool about him swearing.

Without waking up Eddie, he begins to decipher the notes as best as he can: 

Scrambled eggs. Extra hold hairspray. Hyde or Kathy. Yellow sweater. Khakis on Mondays.

There are notes on things they haven’t talked about as well. Things that Eddie has just observed:

Steve visits Mon-Fri.

Steve laughs at all of your jokes, even the mean ones.

Steve applies chapstick when he’s nervous.

Steve will untangle your wires without making it weird.

The name Steve no longer sounds the same after reading it fifteen times over.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Sam places a hand on Steve’s back. “It’s not that he’s remembering everything again.”

“Oh.”

“He just doesn’t want to forget you.”

No. That can’t be right. That can’t be possible. Of course Eddie knows who Steve is. Of course he does.

Steve finds a shitty excuse to get the hell out of this place. He’s polite about it because Sam is a kindhearted person, but this is so fucking unfair. Every last bit of it, down the last ink stain on Eddie’s nondominant arm.

Max isn’t awake. Eddie still has a skim-milk memory. Nothing has gotten better?

Well that shit ends today. Because whatever detour Steve’s mind discovered tonight, it’s leading him down a fucking freeway of tenacity. He’s fueled by whatever attraction or feelings he’s developing for Eddie. Whether it’s friendship or something more, it really doesn’t matter. Not after tonight.

Steve just cares about Eddie way too much to let his mind rot away like this. He’s too close, too connected to the problem to let it go unsolved forever.

As soon as Steve gets home, he calls Robin.

“Really, dingus?” Robin answers the phone like that. Annoyed and groaning already. “It’s late and I’m neck-deep in a John Hughes marathon.”

“It’s about Eddie.” Steve gets right to it.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh fuck.” She exhales loudly. “How can I help?”

“You’re friends with his bandmates, right?”

“Yeah, kinda. Why?”

Steve flips through the memory log. Locates one of his crucial bullet points:

Eddie can hum the theme songs to all of the shitty soap operas (even on bad days).

“I need you to ask them to make a mixtape of Eddie’s favorite songs.” Steve requests. “And it should be in chronological order. From stuff he liked as a kid, to stuff he’s into now.”

“Okay…” Robin pauses. “And you think this will help?”

“I don’t know.” Which is true, it could be a big waste of time. “But I’ve gotta try something.”

This might be dumb. But music helped them defeat(ish) Vecna. So there’s a possibility it could massage the knots in Eddie’s mind. Relax him enough to remember his life. All of it.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Steve adds before hanging up.

“What?”

Steve hits the accelerator on his freeway of tenacity.

“I need my fucking car back.”

[mystargirl-interlude]

𝙻𝙰𝙲𝚈

Billy Hargrove. heart throb of Hawkins Indiana, he could have any girl he ever wanted. Im not going to sit here and lie and say I don't have feelings for him, he's treated me nicely but that doesn't mean he wants me? I don't look like the other girls in Hawkins, I know beauty is not my lack but the way I'm treated it feels like that.

im not popular so the day billy came up to me during the last semester of junior year was a big shock to me 

sitting in French class listening to mrs Roberts give us our last graded assignment before the school year ends I can hear billy and Sarah talk about their plans for the weekend.

Sarah she is by far one of the most stunning girls in Hawkins, basically a Bridget Bardot reincarnate, gorgeous pale skin, honey blonde hair. what wouldn't you love about her? 

getting out of my thoughts by the bell ringing I grab my stuff and go start walking to my locker to get my books for my next class. 

billy Hargrove

I needed to get my grades up in French class because there's most likely nothing more embarrassing than having to repeat a class

so what's better than having the pretty smart girl tutor me?

her

feeling the presence of somebody next to me I look over and see billy next to me 

"hi?" I ask

"y/n right?" he asks with a smirk

"yeah! did you need something?" 

"so I was wondering if you could help me with this grade for French class because the last thing I need is to repeat junior year" he asks

"oh yeah of course, what do you have in mind?" I ask 

"your house, say 7 a'clock?"

"yeah, sounds great! here's my address." I say giving him a piece a paper 

days pass and study session after study session pass. but also meet ups where we didn't necessarily study 

"bi-billy if we don't finish these flash card you're gonna fail" I say against his lips while I'm in his lap 

"just five more minutes 

...

a few days had passed and I would say we had something going on, we had made a few appearances at parties and I wanna say things were going well.

until he passed his test 

he stopped showing up to my house  he stopped talking to me and every time I tried to make conversation with him we would give me short answers and walk to carol and Tommy but then I see him with Sarah at school basically all hours of the day

I would say me and her were aqaintenced. we would stay hi to each other in the halls she would smile to everyone she passed, she was the sweetest thing on this side of hell  but I soon stopped talking to her  once she started being around billy and she didn't seem to mind 

did I ever tell you I'm not doing well?

the more he was with her the more I became obsessed with her I loathed her.

on the outside it would seem like I was in love with her. its like a girl crush in a different font.

every time she would compliment me it was like bullets on skin, that's how much it impacted me, being complimented by the most gorgeous girl in school. 

I kept going to parties until I didn't. the one time I didn't go to a party  I didn't expect much to happen because nothing ever does. it was the week before school ended and the Monday after the party.

the moment I walked into school all eyes were on me. walking the halls confused I feel my best friend robin pull me to the side and pull me into a hug 

"what's going on why is everyone staring at me?" I laugh confused 

"billy and Sarah were seen together all night at the party and they left together" she says really fast 

eyes watering I put a smile on 

"why would I care we were never together anyway" I laugh walking away 

making my way to French class I go to the back of the class putting my head down the class starts to fill up 

picking my head up I see Sarah is in front of me. staring at the back of her head she has a ribbon in her hair. I try to hate her I really try but I can't. it's like she's made out of angel dust.

she turns around to face me and gives me a soft smile like she feels sorry for me

its like she's out to get me.

I hate her I hate her I hate her 

but I don't. I hate my rotten mind for how much I worship her. 

billy comes in 5 minutes late and sits down next to Sarah 

I write in my journal deciding not to give him any more of my attention 

I feel his eyes on me but I can't bring my self to look up at him 

I begin writing what I feel to be a poem but I have the melody that I can't get out of my head 

lacy, oh lacy, skin like puff pastry 

tears fall on my paper and  thank god the bell rings because I couldn't stand to be around him anymore 

bolting out of the class room I hear my name being called by an all to familiar voice but my feet can't stop moving and I exit the school 

hearing footsteps behind me I turn around to see billy behind me with a saddened look on his face 

"y/n." he says in a hushed voice 

uncontrollable tears make their way out of my eyes 

"I'm sorry I can't" i say

"but I understand why you chose her, how could you not?" I whisper with a saddened smile 

I walk away before he could say anything else and I leave for the day 

night time rolls around and I get a call

picking up the phone its a call from the principle saying I don't have to return to school and I can start my summer break because I finished all my last tests early 

me and robin end up spending summer break in California with her friends Nancy and Steve along with Nancys brother and his friends the first week we are there we spend almost all the time at Venice beach 

"this is by far the best ice cream I ever had" mikes friend dustin randomly blurts out

"hey!" Steve says offended as he used to work at an ice cream shop

"what! its true" dustin gets cut off by a very familiar woman coming up to us 

"hello I know this seems very strange but would it be okay if I talked to you for a minute?" she says looking at me 

"oh! um sure " I reply standing up from the beach towel following her to the sidewalk 

"im sarah doukas with the storm modeling agency and me and my assistant saw you and couldn't take our eyes off you, you have a one of a kind look that we haven't seen for years, we can't even remember how long we have been trying to find someone with your beauty. would you like to make a contract with us for our new Chanel campaign?"

(I know that's not how it works shhh😭)

that's the first time I have heard the name Sarah and didn't want to break down

"oh my god! I absolutely love your work I knew I recognized you from somewhere, holy shit um yes I would love to!" I reply 

"great, here's our card and fittings are next week, just call the number and we will give you all the info" she smiles walking away 

shocked I quickly walk back to the group immediately pulling robin into a hug telling her what just happened 

"wait you got scouted by THE Sarah doukas??????" her and Nancy yell 

"who's that?" Steve asks oblivious to what's going on

weeks pass and so does the best day of my life. this is the first time I don't feel like I'm being drowned by Sarah and her looks I finally feel like I'm my own person 

after the photoshoot I somehow make friends with THE Naomi Campbell we exchange numbers and Chanel gives me basically a full wardrobe of clothes from them for free and they tell me my pay for the photoshoot which let me tell you was way more than I would have ever made working at the diner for a year 

but all good things come to an end and we have to go back to Hawkins to begin  the school year but the magazine comes out 2 weeks after school starts and I'm hoping people will finally look at me different but also I'm hoping they see me different now that I changed, I cut my hair just above my shoulders and I no longer have old out dated clothes.

I feel like I have grown as a person these past 3 months. Sarah no longer consumes my thoughts and neither does billy. I don't feel like throwing up every time I hear about them. I have come to peace about it 

I no longer feel like she's out to get me

for once I am actually excited to start the school year 

[its-time-to-write]

i know now it’ll pass - ch. 4

Self control? I don’t know her😂

pulling heartbreak out of hats

It’s been three weeks since your conversation. You see Dr. Sharon twice a week, mainly because Jamie kept badgering you about setting up an appointment. It’s not easy, sure, but your sessions are at the end of the day so if you’re too emotionally drained to drive, Jamie takes you home. 

You’ve started going to his games. You kind of went before, but it’s different now. You’re invested in what’s happening and you’re in your Tartt jersey that Jamie dropped on your head one evening when you walked in the door.

He had been waiting for you at the top of the stairs, so he was ready as soon as he heard your key turn in the lock.

It made you giggle and he kissed you once he got to the foot of the stairs, shirt wrapped around your shoulders like a scarf.

“You’re gonna look so fucking fit with my number,” he had said between kisses.

So now you’re at a game with red and blue streaks in your hair, yelling as Jamie scores an equalizer. He’s doing a little victory lap with his tongue out, the rest of Richmond piling onto him. He’s blowing a kiss to the crowd, except it’s not to the crowd, is it? It’s at your section which means it’s a kiss for you, and you’re so happy you feel like you could explode.

You tell him that night when you’re out celebrating with the team.

He’s grinning and you’re grinning and he’s kissing you like there’s no tomorrow in the middle of a crowded club. Ted notices and wolf-whistles, catching the attention of the rest of the time who join in with the hooting. 

You’re not even a little embarrassed.

—

You’ve discovered you sleep better in a bed that has Jamie in it. He has a habit of washing his hands with warm water before climbing in next to you. It’s a habit you didn’t notice for the longest time but when you finally did, it felt like something inside you was snapping back into place.

His arms feel safe, and you don’t dream when he’s with you. Or if you do, it’s of something pleasant and indiscernible. 

You can’t be with him every night, which is why he shows up to your house one Saturday morning lugging a giant cardboard box with a bow haphazardly taped to the top.

“It’s for when I’m gone,” he says as you slice open the tape to reveal a fluffy weighted blanket. “Got your initials on it and everything.”

It was a great Saturday. You’d gone to the Green to kick around a football and “help” Jamie with drills. It mostly consisted of you yelling, “Faster, Tartt!” while he smiled and puffed. Your favorite was pushups, because you sat on his back and counted. On the way home, he’d held your hand and swung it back and forth while listening to you chatter about your sessions with Dr. Sharon. You’re getting better.

Life has slipped into a nice routine. You work Monday through Friday, go to Jamie’s matches on the weekends, and spend most nights together at his house. 

It’s still just sleeping and there’s still a part of you that doesn’t believe Jamie when he says he’ll take it as slow as you want. You tell Dr. Sharon which starts a whole discussion about trust and you leave feeling better, but as soon as you’re home alone the intrusive thoughts start again. You begin to wonder why Jamie’s even with you. 

—

Jamie can tell something’s off. Your smiles haven’t quite been meeting your eyes, and your hugs are less enthusiastic. He’s seen it before in past relationships, hell he’s been the one in past relationships. The one to lose interest. He can feel it in the way you’re never really listening to what he says, the way you decline dinner invitations, and avoid him at work. He tells Roy and Roy says, “Just fucking talk to her.” That’s too scary, so he tells Ted. Ted always has good advice. Ted says, “Just talk to her, son. Communication is key,” so maybe Roy’s advice was good and Jamie just needs to suck it up and bite the bullet. He decides he will because this relationship is worth it, you’re worth it; with the way you make him laugh and listen to him and actually care about things. Or, you used to. Whatever’s going on, he’s going to fix it.

—

You’re at Jamie’s house, picking at some takeout. He’s talking about the upcoming match but it just sounds like static. You’re preoccupied with thoughts of models, actresses, and/or singers Jamie could date. You’re sure Keeley could set him up with someone so he won’t be alone when you’re gone.

Because that’s what’s happening. Jamie doesn’t even get a chance to ask you what’s wrong because as soon as he finishes his story about how Dani and Jan Maas ate so many kebabs they puked, you’re telling him that it’s over in a monotone voice. He says, “I don’t understand,” and you say, “I know.”

He says, “I love you,” and you force yourself to shrug although your mind is screaming at you to say it back. To tell him that you’re just scared. That you feel you don’t deserve his love, and that you’re going to lose it eventually, so why not get it over with now?

“It’s just not working,” you say and Jamie asks, “What’s not working? I’ll fix it, just tell me what it is.”

You shake your head and say, “I should go.”

You don’t sleep that night. 

You don’t want to see Jamie, so you sit on the back steps instead of the front. It’s not the same because you can’t see the sunrise and it feels too grey, too sterile. You wonder if you should move.

Table of Contents

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 25: A Step Forward

Chapter Word Count: 4,036

TW

None

Master List | Prev | Next

“I’m not asking you to get your ass in gear, I’m telling you to get your ass in gear.” The men he was talking to dismissed themselves, closing the door firmly behind them.

Seungcheol was pissed. Since he stepped foot into the warehouse earlier Monday evening, things weren’t going right. Jihoon had to recount and repackage their inventory because someone under him fucked up and miscounted too many items. Two big fights broke out at Ruby, leaving Mingyu and Seungkwan trying to deal with it. One of the main shipments of artillery went missing but was soon found three hundred miles away somehow . 

How it got there? He was still trying to figure that out.

It wasn’t his day. He was ready to pop a blood vessel or pop a bullet in someone's head for fun. A headache was pounding behind his eyes and he really really didn’t want to deal with anymore bullshit today.

Joshua had just left with Minghao and Wonwoo to handle some money hand off with a group of their men. Jihoon and Seokmin were currently in the office, both reviewing paperwork while Seungcheol was on the phone with Captain – Hongjoong. They had been talking for almost thirty minutes about some business that involved SKZ but neither could stay on track, specifically on Hongjoon’s end.

Jeonghan, Vernon, and Soonyoung were off a city over with Dreamcatcher, working out some details with the moving of some items they stole, specifically some jewelry they needed remade and sold. 

A quick series of knocks came to the door and a panicked man walked in. “King- Sorry, Uh- Mouse is here-” 

Jihoon and Seokmin’s heads whipped up and Seungcheol’s brow furrowed. 

“What is she-” 

“Get the fuck out of my way-” She sounded about as angry as he felt, pushing the man aside and closing the door in his face. Her eyes met Seungcheol’s and, right away, Mouse was marching over to his desk. “We need to talk.” 

She was still in her work clothes despite how late it was.

“I don’t have time for your tantrum, Mouse. ” 

“Tantrum?” Mouse scoffed, dropping her keys on his desk, leaning on the wood with both hands. “If you want me to throw a tantrum, I can, but we need to talk.” 

“Let me call you back.” Seungcheol hung up the call and placed his phone down. “What do you want?” 

“Take Omen off any killing duty.” 

His eyebrows twitched together. “Why does it matter to you?” 

“Take. Omen . Off. Any. Killing. Duty.” She tapped her nails in annoyance alongside every word.

Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing her with challenge. “And I’m going to ask once more, why does it matter to you? You don’t have any say in SVT.” 

“Are you really that fucking blind? Do you not see what it’s doing to him?” 

“Doing to him? What the hell are you talking about?” 

“God you really are blind.” Mouse laughed at him, something dark swimming behind her eyes. “For someone that says he is observant, you really are oblivious.” 

Seungcheol scoffed at her, narrowing his gaze into a glare. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” Similar to him, Mouse sent him a glare, steady drumming of her nails against the wood of his desk. The sound was irritating, he wanted it to stop, needed it to stop. 

Biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from yelling, Seungcheol and Mouse were caught in a stare down. She didn’t look ready to back down, he never expected her to, but her presents here was a nuisance. He had things he needed to get done and didn’t need whatever she was spouting off. 

“Get out.” 

“Not until you do something for Omen .” 

“ Mouse. ” 

“ King. ” 

“I’m asking you to get out before I order you to get out.” He warned her, not once breaking the stare down. Seungcheol had just as much resolve as she did.

“I’m not going to leave until you tell me what you are going to do.” 

“Then you will be here all night.” 

“I can take a day off of work, right, Tempest? ” Past her, Seokmin tensed up but he said nothing. “I notice when someone struggles and I am more than willing to help them. The question is, are you?” 

Really, behind the facade he was putting on currently, Seungcheol was lost on what she was talking about. Chan hasn’t said a word about anything bothering him. Maybe he had been off but not more than usual after a long mission. Maybe he needed a few days off, he could do that if the youngest wanted, but what the hell was she talking about? 

“Seeing as you have to rub the two brain cells you have together, I’m leaving. If nothing is done, I’ll be back here again.” 

And she left, taking her keys and leaving the three of them in different states. Seokmin and Jihoon were wide eyed and in disbelief while Seungcheol was outraged. One look to the former two had them ducking their heads and refocusing on the files, muttering disjointedly about some numbers. 

The longer he thought about Mouse’s words, the longer he hated the ideas they placed in his head. He tensed his jaw and set to collecting all the documents on his desk, moving quickly. 

He could feel two sets of eyes watching him and once more he looked at Jihoon and Seokmin. 

“What do you know?” 

The younger two shared a look before Jihoon sat back. “You and all of us know that he hates going with Echo and Shadow .” 

“Hates- He hasn’t said anything about that to me.” 

Jihoon gave him a disappointed look, one he hasn’t seen often but seen enough to know the look went deep. “Dude…” 

“I’m going to talk to him.” 

“He is at the house.” Seokmin added, “ Jester made him stay there to get some sleep.”

“Chan?” Calling through the house, Seungcheol looked about the living room. “Channie?” 

Dropping the set of takeout boxes on the island counter, he shuffled down the hall, finding the youngest’s door and knocked. When no answer came, he quietly opened the door, hoping to find him asleep, only to hear the sliding door to the backyard open and close. Soon a voice had his head looking back down the hall. 

“What are you doing at the house?” Standing at the end of the hall, bundled up in a blanket with a mug in his hands was Chan. “Seokmin texted and said it was a mess back at the warehouse.” 

“It was- it is.” Seungcheol nodded, closing Chan’s door and making his way over. “How are you…feeling?” 

“Mouse talked to you.” Swallowing, Chan clutched the mug tighter, raising his shoulders up some, almost as if he was scared. 

“She…” He sighed, nodding his head down the hall, glancing to the couch. “Let’s sit down. Let’s talk.” 

Seungcheol waited for Chan to turn and go sit down, trailing behind him. The latter sat in the corner of the couch, tucking his knees to his chest with the mug resting between them and his chest. He huffed out a sigh, sitting on the couch a few feet from him. One look at Chan showed uneasiness and the avoidance from him to make any eye contact was off putting. 

“Tell me what's going on in your head before I tell you what Mouse said.” 

It took some time for Chan to answer, he stared at the liquid in his mug, which Seungcheol noted as hot chocolate by the rich smell that floated over to him. 

“I can’t get his face out of my mind.” 

Leaning his head back, Seungcheol sighed through his nose, running a hand over his face.

“Cheol, every time you’ve sent me out with Minghao and Jun, have you never noticed that I shut down?” 

The question sounded sad and it weighed heavily on the leader’s chest. Sighing once more, he looked down to the floor, running through every assignment he’s given through his head. It wasn’t that he hadn't noticed, each of them had their ways of coping with what they were dealing with, but more often than not his office was open to the guys whenever they needed someone. He never once turned away any of them when they wanted to talk. 

“I have, Chan, but I’ve also asked you in the past and you shut me out, how am I supposed to know if I’m not told anything? I’m not a mind reader.” 

Opening his mouth, Chan curled in on himself, “I didn’t know how to tell you. I felt like if I told you…you’d be disappointed in me. And you’ve done so much for me that I didn’t want to let you down by not being able to fulfill the things you want done.” 

“Chan-” Seungcheol whined, looking at the youngest in disbelief. “Do you think that little of me that I’d be mad at you for having PTSD issues? You know me better than that, you know I want to put you guys in a place where you are comfortable.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Chan didn’t lift his eyes, sipping some of his hot chocolate. “Mouse found me outside the other night and she came out and talked with me…She said if you cared enough, you’d be willing to change things for me… Then she said if I didn’t say anything she would so I guess she got to you first.”

“Yeah, she pushed her way into the warehouse and told me to take you off anything having to do with killing.” 

“How bad was it?” Chan cringed. 

“She called me blind and oblivious, saying she wasn’t going to leave until I made a choice, then she said I was rubbing my two brain cells together!” Exasperated, Seungcheol slumped down in his spot. 

“She is a lot.” Chan managed to chuckle low, “But I appreciate that Mouse cares about us. She reminds me of an older sister that just wants the best for us.” 

“Everyone is pretty fond of her.” 

Chan chuckled louder, nodding. “We are, she is rough around the edges like all of us. I’m glad you didn’t kill her, Cheol.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Standing up, Seungcheol trekked over to the counter, grabbing the take out containers. “Come eat, I got your favorite from the Chinese place.” 

Watching Mouse stride into his office at the house already had his blood boiling. It was like she knew he was going to call her in once she arrived on Friday night. 

Her expression was neutral, not an ounce of tension present in her shoulders or jaw. The clicking of her heels against the wood floor were as annoying as her nails were on his desk earlier in the week. 

“You requested my presents, King? ” Mock dripped in her tone, standing across from Seungcheol, arms crossed over her chest. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, he could feel the ache in his jaw from how tense he was. The air of confidence she walked in with wasn’t one of facade he had seen before, she actually had the confidence she was putting off.

“I have handled the situation regarding Chan.” Attempting to keep his tone level, Seungcheol forced the words out. 

“Good, I was ready to walk in here after work and bitch at you some more if you didn’t.” 

“Mouse, what you did was highly inappropriate, how did you even get to the fucking warehouse on your own?” 

Rolling her eyes, she placed a hand on her hip. “I’m not going to rat out my source.” 

“Of course you won’t.” Displeased with the answer, Seungcheol stood from his desk, using his height to stare down at Mouse with the lingering anger from Monday from her audacity and attitude. “Listen to me and listen to me well, Mouse…If you ever pull something like that ever again, I really won’t hesitate to put a gun to your head and pull the trigger.” 

Her eyes scanned him, looking over his stance, more than likely the tension in his shoulders before her eyes landed back on his face. She was smiling , one similar to a devilish smile Seokmin and Jeonghan have worn before. That cocky confidence was there and the blood in his veins was on fire . 

Raising her hand, Mouse looked at her nails with that smile turning into a smirk. “I’m making burgers for dinner, text Joshua what you want on yours.” Her eyes flicked up to his, showing no remorse or concern for her previous actions and she turned on the balls of her feet, sauntering out of the office and closing the door. 

Seungcheol was left flabbergasted, wide eyed and stunned. He couldn’t figure out how to properly process the retort, let alone the fact she ignored him. Other members of the group wouldn’t have the balls enough to go against him seriously, even Joshua and Jeonghan. 

“Are you good?” Minghao’s voice startled him from his trance, unsure of how long he had been standing there, staring in the distance. 

“Hao- Can you make some noise when you walk in?” 

“I knocked.” 

Sighing, Seungcheol rubbed his forehead. “Did you? I wasn’t listening.” 

“I waited a few minutes but you didn’t answer so I walked in.” He defended himself with no force behind his words. Minghao tilted his head curiously, hands sliding into his pockets. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Not particularly, I saw Mouse coming out of here and I got curious.” Maybe there was some joking to Minghao’s tone now that he was paying attention. 

“She gets on my last nerve.” 

Minghao giggled, shoulders shaking the slightest bit. “I think you are more shocked she isn’t scared of you, serious or not, Cheol. We might all not fear you, but we know when you are serious and have meaning behind your words. Mouse isn’t afraid to push your buttons during those moments.” 

“You make it sound like I can’t be a normal guy.” 

“Seungcheol,” Minghao raised a brow, “Let’s be honest here, you haven’t really shown Mouse that you can be normal or that you aren’t constantly pissed off at her.” 

“That isn’t true-” 

“Outside of the new car and at Ruby a few weeks ago, give me one example where you have been nice to Mouse. Actually nice, not fake nice.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to answer but he paused. He didn’t expect to actually have to think about it, usually he could think of something easily for anyone else. Wracking his brain, he attempted to think back through the times he had spent with Mouse in any capacity. Any moment at the Gala didn’t count, he also wouldn’t count the car… Oh! He got food for Mouse after Mingyu- Wait no…Seokmin picked that up and he only brought it down instead. 

“Can’t think of anything? At all? In the months we’ve known her?” Unimpressed, Minghao nodded his head. “That’s what I thought.” 

“Can you not sound like a dick about it?” The whine he let out was childish, huffing and crossing his arms. “Have I really been that much of an asshole?” 

“Yes you have, everyone sees it.” 

“Fine! Fine- I’ll try and be nice.” 

“Good luck, Cheol.” 

“How the hell am I going to be nice to her?” Pacing his room after dinner, Seungcheol was at a loss. “She’d probably hate everything I’d do even if I tried…” 

Think, Cheol, think…There has to be something you could do with Mouse to get her to not think you are a total dick. 

And he continued to pace around his room, even managing to stand on his bed and walk over it a few times. Standing in his closet, he spun around in a circle a few times, seeing the pout on his face when he passed the mirror. 

“I feel like an idiot.” Looking at his reflection, Seungcheol sighed. “And I can’t think of anything.” 

He had one, maybe two, last resorts and he planned on using them. 

“Seokmin, I need your help.” 

Bursting into the other man’s bedroom, Seungcheol marched over to the bed once he closed the door, finding the other on his laptop, glasses perched on his nose. Thankfully it wasn’t too late but late enough that most were on their own for the night.

Looking over the top of his glass’s frames, Seokmin raised a brow. “Depends on what you need help with.” 

Seungcheol sat back against the headboard and hugged a pillow, pursing his lips in a deep pout. “Promise you won’t laugh, tell anyone, or kick me out of your room.”

Seokmin looked at him from head to toe before sitting up and closing his laptop. “Promise, but I want compensation for my time.” 

“Two days off.” 

“Four days off.” 

“Three.”

“Deal.” 

Seungcheol held out his hand for the other to shake which Seokmin did quickly. 

“What do you need, boss?” 

“I…Need to know how I can be nice to Mouse.” Though usually filled with confidence, Seungcheol sounded unsure and sank down in his spot when he caught the look on Seokmin’s face. 

Staring back at him, Seokmin’s mouth hung open and he blinked a few times to process the words he had just heard. Shaking his head quickly, he pushed his glasses up and fully sat up, criss-crossing his legs. 

“Repeat that.” 

“I need help in knowing how I can be nice to Mouse.” Groaning, Seungcheol frowned at the younger man. “Please don’t make me repeat it again, I’ve been pacing around my room for the last hour trying to figure something out but I can’t think of shit.” 

“Is this about the Chan thing because that isn’t-” 

“No!” Seungcheol cut him off, hugging the pillow closer to him. “Kinda…Minghao came into my office earlier after she walked out and said that I haven’t done one thing nice for her besides the car and that I should try and be nice to her since she only knows me as an asshole.” 

“Well, I mean…Minghao has a point, you have only threatened her, or kinda ignored her, or gave her attitude.” Seokmin pointed out and Seungcheol hit his head back against the headboard, sighing. “You, Wonwoo, and Mouse like video games, maybe play some games with them when she is in Pandora with him?” 

Nodding, he peered at Seokmin, still pouting as he stayed silent, making mental notes. 

“You could also just, not ignore her, ask her how her day was, stuff like that.” 

Simple enough… 

“I know we joke that Jeonghan and Joshua take her out a lot now, but it isn’t a bad thing, maybe get food with her and actually talk? Have a normal conversation? Be fucking normal? ” Seokmin looked back and forth at nothing in particular, thinking over some other things. “Don’t be King , be Seungcheol. From what I know, she more than likely thinks that you have no difference between King and yourself when everyone is different from who they are under watchful eyes.” 

Sighing once more, Seungcheol rested his chin on the pillow he held, running over everything his friend. 

“Anything else you suggest?” 

“Yeah,” Seokmin narrowed his eyes when Seungcheol met his gaze. “Stop threatening to kill her, it’s getting old and annoying.” 

“ Stop threatening to kill her.” Seungcheol mocked childishly, huffing in annoyance. “Fine.” 

Rolling his eyes, Seokmin moved to lay back down, getting comfortable in bed, pulling his blanket up to his chin. “Good, now get out, I want to watch a show and knock out.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Reaching over, Cheol ruffled some of Seokmin’s hair, hearing the younger man laugh as he got up. “Thanks, Min.” 

“Anytime, Cheol!” 

It wasn’t a surprise when he did find Mouse and Wonwoo in Pandora the next morning, both with a controller in hand on either side of the couch. Seungcheol got up early, specifically to see if they were downstairs while Mingyu was making breakfast. Both of them looked tired but awake enough to be invested into whatever they were playing.

When he opened the door, both of their heads turned, both with varying levels of surprise as he shuffled inside and took a seat on the couch between them. Neither of them said anything but he could feel their gazes on them. Seungcheol sat closer to Wonwoo than Mouse, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and nodded towards the screen. 

“Don’t mind me.” He saw Mouse’s eyes flick to Wonwoo before the game started once more and they settled back into comfortable silence. 

Though there wasn’t a word said, the two worked well together to get through the game. When Seungcheol had been down here, bored, watching Mingyu and Wonwoo play games, it was never quiet, usually the former complaining while Wonwoo was saving his ass. Once he was down here hearing Jihoon and Wonwoo play but those two were bickering like brothers, playfully insulting each other. 

Here, it was calm, neither seemingly wanting or needed to say a word to understand what needed to be done. Occasionally he would hear a hum from one of them if they got stuck and the other helped. Even when the two got through a section with relative ease, they didn’t make a sound. 

“Mouse!” Hearing Mingyu push the door open, breaking the shell of silence, the game was paused and the three turned their heads to see what the giant wanted. “Can you help me with the waffles?” 

“Waffles?” She laughed softly, tilting her head. “I thought French toast was the plan?” 

“I was but Joshua is still asleep! Waffles are easier!” Mingyu huffed, pouting. “Can you help?” 

Mouse looked back to Wonwoo, Seugncheol watching as she raised a brow and the other man snorted a laugh out his nose. She smiled with a louder chuckle now and placed the controller down. “I’ll be right up, Gyu, give me a second.” 

Seungcheol could visibly see Mingyu brighten, dark brown eyes wide and full of joy. “Great! Thank you!” And he was out the door and up the stairs.

“I feel like a mom.” Mouse laughed, standing up and stretching. “If it isn’t him, it’s someone else.” 

He could hear Wonwoo snort once more. “Sounds about right. Play after?” 

“Unless Chan wants to train, I don’t see why not.” With a small wave, she left, leaving Seungcheol and Wonwoo in the quiet space of Pandora. 

“Mind telling me why you came down here? It’s rare you are awake before breakfast.” Wonwoo saved and shut the game down, curiosity flitting through his eyes when they met Seungcheol’s. 

“Can’t I come down here when I want?” He…didn’t mean to sound that defensive. “Wait- shit, sorry, that made me sound like a dick-” 

“Does this have anything to do with Mouse?” 

Cheol sank down in his seat, pouting. “And if it does?”

“Was this about the conversation with Minghao?” 

“Does everyone know?!” 

“I wouldn’t say everyone but Minghao talked to Jun and I yesterday after dinner so...”

“I asked Seokmin how I could be nicer to Mouse.” Muttering out the words, Seungcheol pulled his hood up and around his face tightly. “Because I’m apparently the biggest asshole on the planet.” 

Wonwoo let out a deep rumble of a laugh, “No denying that one at some point. What did Min suggest?” 

“He said to come down here and play games with you guys for one… Then he suggested actually talking to her like a normal person. Not ignoring her, or threatening to kill her anymore…” 

“That part was getting kinda old.” 

“Shut up-” He huffed. “He also said that I should probably sit down and talk to her properly. Maybe it will help clear the air, I dunno.”

“What do you plan to do? Pick her up from work and take her out?” 

Pursing his lips, Seungcheol raised a brow. It wasn’t the worst idea…

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “She probably wouldn’t even get into the car, Cheol.” 

“I can always ask-” 

“Sona is too much of Mouse’s friend to agree.” 

Standing up, Seungcheol huffed. “I’ll figure it out, I’m hungry.” 

Tag List is Open! Comment on the BSH Master List to get added!

Tag List:

@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo @aurorajoye @gaslysainz @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @vanteel @clownprincehoeshi @kpopandbookschild @honeybunchcrunch @black-swan-blog27 @peachie-wonu @kpopsimpsblog

[tellmegoodbye]

Welcome back everyone! This week's themes are Disasters and Nancy & Mateo. I'll admit, this theme was a tough one! I have two songs that reflect on two very disastrous moments in the show. It's a loose interpretation of the word, I know, but the result is now probably my angstiest music monday submission yet. You're welcome. Or I'm sorry.

Thank you as always to @lonestar-s5countdown!

---

Walked Through Hell - Anson Seabra

I guess all the mountains that I moved just weren't enough And all those nights I walked you home From crowded bars when you were drunk Well they meant nothing 'cause you up and walked away And I just wonder what it'd take to make you stay

Cause when you said jump I said how high But when I jumped you said goodbye

I would've walked through hell To find another way I would've laid me down If I knew that you would stay I would've crossed the stars To keep you in my life But now I'm falling hard Without you here tonight

I'm kicking things off with a breakup song. TK and Carlos were both broken in their own ways, but these lyrics are a reflection on Carlos' state of mind in the immediate aftermath. There's a touch of unreliable narrator involved here because obviously TK loves Carlos, but from the perspective of the person whose heart has just been broken, he doesn't. This song really digs into just how much pain something like this causes, and how much healing they had to go through. Much like a recovery from a physical injury, such as Grace hurting her leg or TK taking a bullet to his chest, Carlos' love and trust needed a lot of mending.

Atlantic - Sleep Token

(cw: reference to a suicide attempt)

I woke up surrounded, eyes like frozen planets Just orbiting the vacuum I am And they talk me through the damage, consequence And how it's a pain they know they don't understand

Sobbing as they turn to statues at the bedside I'm trying not to crush into sand So flood me like Atlantic, weather me to nothing Wash away the blood on my hands

This is TK in the aftermath of his overdose. The narrator describes themselves as a vaccum, surrounded by people who love them but can't understand the pain that they're in. TK feels so broken and empty at this point, and even though he lies to Owen and puts on a stoic face. We know he's hurting so much more than he said. We know that this overdose was no accident, that TK felt so lost and unlovable that he had tried to take his own life. He'll go through the motions. He'll move to Austin with his dad and rebuild a firehouse. He'll go back to work and seek out physical comfort from Carlos, but he doesn't heal from something like this overnight. He still feels like he'll never have the kind of future he wants. Love and happiness feel so distant for him right now, nearly an impossiblity. He can't see a way out of the darkness.

Tags!

@strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos @bonheur-cafe

@ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @carlos-tk

@paperstorm @guardian-angle22 @lightningboltreader @eclectic-sassycoweyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings

@whatsintheboxmh @firstprince-history-huh @toomanycupsoftea @reeeallygood @butchreyes

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @reyesstrand + open tag!

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Pan Says... (10/13)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: You read that right! I have a final chapter count! We are nearing the end, and I can't thank y'all enough! I hope you enjoy these concluding chapters (they'll be updating on Mondays and Thursdays) and don't yell at me too much. (Actually, go ahead. I kinda like it 😘)

Much love to my @kmomof4 and @ultraluckycatnd for being amazing cheerleaders and betas! Love you, ladies!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six  / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine

Part Ten

“What sort of game is he playing at now, do you think?” Killian murmured as he and Emma made their way to the showers.

“Who the hell knows,” Emma groused. “I’ve given up trying to understand him or even attempt to stay ahead of his demented games.”

“Aye.” Killian sighed and gestured Emma towards the working showerhead, allowing her to go first.

“Not that I’m not relieved that our fears seem to have been… premature,” she said, stepping into the spray and wetting her long tresses.

Killian swallowed past the bolt of lust that always manifested when he saw her like this and added, “It is hard to enjoy the current peace and quiet, knowing there is likely a sword of Damocles hanging over us, though.”

Emma swiped the cascades of water from her face and gave him the look she usually employed whenever his “nerd side” came out, complete with an eye roll and stifled grin.

They spent the next few minutes in silence while Emma lathered, conditioned, shaved, and rinsed. In an effort to keep his libido in check, Killian let his mind wander over the past two plus weeks since he and Emma entertained Pan’s guests.

They’d gone to sleep that night with the worry of what Pan might have in store for them next and Killian’s dreams had been nightmarish reflections of those fears. None of which had come to fruition these past weeks. In fact, Pan had demanded very little of them at all, leaving them to their own devices much of the time whilst lavishing them with unearned gifts.

It was downright unsettling.

Killian’s eyes drifted down to his Swan’s lower abdomen and his jaw tightened from the equally unsettling knowledge that their recent activities may have already begun to bear their natural consequences, yet there was no way for him to know for certain. He knew she had not yet had a period, but he did not know whether that was unusual after the removal of an IUD. Of course, Emma was completely unaware that she was no longer protected from an unwanted pregnancy, therefore a lack of period was of no concern for her. He wondered, should they be fortunate enough to dodge the bullet of conception, what her reaction would be if and when her period did occur. Would Pan expect him to continue the charade of not knowing?

The continued deceit and knowledge that every aspect of their lovemaking wasn't completely consensual caused Killian’s stomach to tighten and churn painfully with guilt. He hated keeping it from her, but what other choice did he have?

“Your turn,” Emma said, pulling him from his tormented thoughts. His eyes snapped up and met the concern expressing itself through her furrowed brow and curious expression. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love,” he replied, waving off her scrutiny with a quipped bit of sass that wasn’t entirely untrue. “Just a bit vexed by our esteemed host.”

Emma hummed her understanding and agreement, rubbing her hand down his arm affectionately as they traded places.

Once back in their now very cramped room, given the number of ‘luxuries’ Pan had provided them in the wake of their exhibition, they went through their normal, post-shower routines before settling back on their bed.

“Do you think he’d let us visit the terrace again without having to complete a ‘Pan Says’?” Emma inquired softly, tucking her legs beneath her in an attempt to get comfortable. “Like he did with the shower?”

Killian pondered her question. He knew they had both been surprised at the lack of quid pro quo when they’d finally broken down and begged Pan for an opportunity to shower. After all, it had been over two weeks since they’d been given leave to go and have a proper wash-up, and there was only so much a rinsed and reused washcloth, a small sink, and a vanishing bar of soap could do at this point. Killian had braced himself for the expected, unpleasant demand of a Pan Says in response to his and Emma’s request, but when Pan had simply agreed and opened the cell door with a reminder to not stray off the blue line, they’d both found themselves unnerved. Begrudgingly grateful, but mostly unnerved.

“Might be best to not push our luck,” Killian replied.

Emma’s shoulder sagged in disappointment, but the action was followed with a relenting nod of concession that he was probably right. He hated to dishearten her, especially when he’d love nothing more than to go out and breathe fresh air whilst basking in some sunshine. However, until Pan showed his cards and revealed what this new round of the game would entail, he didn’t want them lured into a false sense of security or led into a trap of their own making.

“So,” Emma said, changing the subject. “What will it be? Reading? A movie? Board game? What do you wanna do today?”

Choosing an activity - from the myriad of options their host had provided them over the past fortnight - that might keep them occupied, they spent the rest of the day, and the subsequent days afterward, in relative peace.

Too bad that peace couldn’t last.

“Pan says, you two are going on a field trip.”

Killian balked and noted the way Pan’s unexpected announcement had caught Emma off guard as well.

“A field trip where?” Emma asked warily.

“To another part of the compound,” Pan replied. “There’s something I wish to show you, so…” The cell door screeched open and revealed two Lost Ones standing at the ready. “Pan says, follow the orange line until my Lost Ones indicate you’ve arrived at your destination.”

~/~

Emma was probably going to end up with a crick in her neck from the way she kept craning it to look over her shoulder. The distraction of attempting to ascertain whether these were their original Lost Ones - the ones who seemed to have a connection to her and Killian - had her stumbling over her feet a number of times on the way to their mysterious destination. It was no use, though. Pan had changed their outfits, including their masks. Where before an opening had remained at their mouths and eyes, this new mask covered their faces completely. Emma doubted she’d be able to tell for sure, so she returned her focus to the new areas of the compound the new line led them through.

The orange line had run parallel to the green line, the one that led to the garden terrace, but branched off at the stairwell that led to the upper level. Killian had been silent since they’d left the room and hadn’t glanced her way once since the lines had split off. She knew it was because he was taking in every detail he could and adding the new information to the map in his head. He did finally peer over at her when the Lost Ones ushered them into an elevator, his hand still wrapped firmly around her own as they squeezed in beside the Lost Ones.

“So…” Killian drawled, startling Emma with the way he broke the silence within the elevator. “Are you them? The Lost Ones responsible for us being in this nightmare?”

“Killian,” Emma hissed in admonishment.

His eyes cut down to hers and met her incredulous expression. Why would he ask such a thing now?

“It’s not as though it’s a secret,” he said, turning his attention back to their guards. “Nothing escapes Pan’s attention, so I’m certain he’s well aware of the information one of you gave Emma. So let’s stop pretending we don’t all know you two are the reason Emma and I are here in the first place.”

Neither of them responded, though Emma did notice the guilty shift in one of the Lost One’s stances. Given the raise of his brow, Killian did, too.

Before he could question them again, the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened. The first Lost One exited as the second gestured for her and Killian to follow, dropping in behind them both as they continued down the orange lined hallway. They hadn’t gone far when the Lost One stopped and punched in a code into a numbered keypad mounted to the wall. The click of a lock releasing echoed through the hallway and the door swung open, revealing an entryway one might see in a swanky city apartment.

“Come in! Come in!” Pan’s voice crowed excitedly from the speakers in the room beyond. Squeezing her hand, Killian led them through the door and entryway, until they were standing in a naturally lit, warm and inviting living room, lavishly furnished and a sight more welcoming than the cell they’d been inhabiting for the past six weeks.

“What…? Where are we? Who… Who lives here?” Emma stammered, trying to take in not only the spacious living room but the other spaces connected to it as well.

“That will depend entirely on the two of you,” Pan supplied with a familiar note in his tone that alerted them both of an impending Pan Says on the tip of his tongue.

“Let me guess,” Killian snarked in reply before Pan could issue the edict. “Pan says this will be our new home if… we agree to whatever depraved, humiliating, new heights of degradation he has planned for us now?”

Again, Emma stared slack-jawed at Killian. What on earth had gotten into him today?

“Actually,” Pan began, his words carrying a hard edge that was difficult to miss despite the light tone he was attempting to keep. “It’s nothing new. In fact, my request is for you to do a Pan Says you’ve already completed for me once. Rather successfully, as a matter of fact.”

Ripples of dread cascaded down Emma’s spine as she exhaled on a panicked breath, “You want us to do it again. You want us to… entertain them again.”

Killian stiffened at her side, his posture becoming even more menacing than it had in the elevator. “Absolutely not. Separate us if you must, but I’ll not have Emma endure that again!”

“Separate you?” Pan parroted in mocked inquiry. “Why on earth would I separate you?”

“But…” Emma began, a myriad of emotions sweeping through her all at once. “Last time you said if we didn’t, you would--”

“Well, that was before you proved to be such a smashing success with my guests,” Pan told them. “You wouldn’t believe the praise I received for delighting them with such a feast for their debauched tastes… or the amount they’ve offered to pay for a repeat performance.”

“And if we say no?” Killian questioned.

“If you say no, then my guests won’t get a repeat performance… they’ll get an entirely new experience with the two of you.”

“What does that mean?”

Pan paused, allowing the tension and dread to build before explaining, “I’ve never been very good at sharing my toys with others, which is why my monthly exhibitions have always been just that. Exhibitions. Performances. Looky, but no touchy. However…” Another pregnant pause stretched through the room and Emma met Killian’s anxious eyes with panicked ones of her own, both of them now deducing what Pan was about to reveal. “If you will not allow my guests the voyeuristic experience they’ve already paid for, then perhaps I’ll give in to the obscene amount they’ve offered to allow them a more… hands-on role this month.”

“No,” Killian grit out from between his clenched teeth.

“Oh, yes,” Pan oiled in reply. “You can either allow my guests to watch you ravage each other for one night, then have the freedom and luxury of this apartment to dwell in afterward, or I can have you tied down and give my guests what they truly desire. The opportunity to ravage each of you for themselves - in some cases several at a time - for All. Three. Nights. The choice is yours.”

Emma wrapped her arms around her waist and doubled over, a mournful cry catching in the back of her throat as Killian roared next to her, picked up a vase from one of the end tables and chucked it at the wall, shattering it into oblivion.

“Now, now,” Pan tsked over the speakers. “I’ll give you some time to mull it over. We’ve another week before my guests arrive. Pan says to have a look around and talk it over. You can let me know what you decide before my Lost Ones take you back to your quarters.”

Feedback rang through the speakers, but it was nothing in comparison to the ringing in her ears. Reaching up, Emma placed her hands against her hot, flushed face, wet from tears yet also clammy to the touch.

“Swan,” Killian said, somewhere off to her right, his words a mixture of apology and commiseration. His hand ran a soothing caress down her spine, but it did not have the calming effect he intended. Instead, Emma felt her stomach lurch.

“Swan, I’m so--”

“I’m gonna be sick!” Darting through the living room, she just managed to make it to the sink in the kitchen beyond before emptying the contents of her stomach through a series of retches.

“Emma!” Killian cried out in concern, making his way to her in time to hold her hair back for her. She wished he wouldn’t. Wished he didn’t have to see her like this. Wished… so many things, actually.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian continued to apologize. “I shouldn’t have let my anger get out of control like that. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make things worse. I--”

“It’s okay,” Emma said, clearing her throat and reaching for a paper towel to wipe her mouth with. “Could you find me a glass?” she asked him. “I need some water.”

“Of course!” He tore open cabinets until he found one with drinking glasses. Handing it over to her, she could feel his scrutiny as she filled it from the tap and took small sips.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a turn to apologize for her own lack of ability in keeping it together. “I don’t know why I responded like…” Her words trailed off as something occurred to her. Something that nearly made her heart stop as she instinctively began to reach down towards her abdomen then thought better of it at the last minute, hopefully before Killian noticed.

No. Surely it would be too soon for that if I were…

“You’ve no need to apologize, love,” Killian soothed, though his voice was tight and strained. Glancing up at him, she noted how he only held her gaze for a moment before cutting his eyes away. His Adam’s apple bobbed and the muscle at his jaw flickered. When Emma followed the path of his eyes, she saw the shards of the vase littering the floor.

“You don’t need to beat yourself up either,” she told him. “I don’t think either of us was expecting…”

Killian slammed his hand against the counter, causing her to jump. “That’s just it!” he hollered. “We never expect it! We’re always several steps behind when it comes to his schemes! I’m tired of never knowing what’s next! Of always being on the defensive, never letting our guard down! I thought… I thought we might have the upper hand for once! I thought this might have been our chance to thwart him, but now…”

“What do you mean? Thwart him how?”

Killian ran his hand through his hair and forced himself to take a calming breath. “I thought he might threaten to separate us, like he did the last time. I thought… even though I’d hate being parted from you and having someone else… I thought it would at least mean we could keep one another safe from…”

“I know,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “I was thinking the same thing.” His eyes snapped to hers and his lips parted in surprise. “As much as I don’t want for us to be separated, I couldn’t help but think how choosing to do so would mess with his plan.”

“Aye,” Killian said on a heavy breath. “Instead, he’s backed us into a corner once again. Leaving us no option but to comply.”

“At least we know what to expect this time,” she said, offering up that small consolation as she looked around the apartment. “And unlike the last one, this prison cell has windows,” gesturing towards a glass door at the back of the kitchen, she quipped, “and a balcony we can throw ourselves off of if it all gets to be too much.”

“Not funny,” Killian clipped even as a smile twitched at his lips. Releasing another heavy sigh, he took her hand. “I suppose we ought to take the full tour,” he groused, nodding towards the big screen tv in the corner of the living room with Pan’s most recent edict scrolling across, “before our jailers come to fetch us.”

~/~

Begrudgingly, Killian had to give it to Pan. The flat was magnificent. Several times he had to remind himself that a gilded cage was still a cage, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to share the space, and the sense of normalcy it might provide, with his Swan.

The kitchen was state-of-the-art and fully stocked with all their favorites. It opened to a balcony that stretched the full expanse of the flat, giving access to the bedroom, bathroom, and…an additional room.

The bedroom was outfitted with a king sized bed, lush linens, a reading nook, and a spacious closet already filled with garments more keeping to their life before their incarceration. Adjoining, there was a luxurious, spa-like bathroom with a shower large enough for both of them to bathe at the same time, as well as a two person soaking tub. The room next to the bedroom was a bit perplexing, however.

“What do you think this space is meant for?” Emma asked after they’d swung the door wide to reveal a cozy, not yet furnished bedroom.

Killian swallowed thickly and shrugged his shoulders, hoping Emma would not take notice of his sudden change in demeanor. He had a pretty good idea what potential use Pan may have had in mind for the small room only steps away from the main suite, but just as he had when his suspicions had run rampant in response to Emma becoming violently ill earlier, he tamped them down and put on his best poker face. Fortunately - or unfortunately - he was spared from having to bluff further.

“Well?” Pan’s voice echoed in from the living room. “What’s the verdict?”

Making their way back to where the obvious camera was, though Killian knew there had to be many more hidden throughout the space, he and Emma glanced at one another with an affirming look before Emma sighed and said, “When do we move in?”

Pan practically crowed in response to their answer. “How about now?”

Killian and Emma both balked. “Now?” Killian said, incredulously.

“Why not?” Pan replied. “Call it a token of my gratitude and a reminder of how generous I can be.”

Killian wasn’t certain how to respond and found himself murmuring an astounded thank you alongside his Swan.

“Just remember my benevolence this weekend when it comes time to entertain my guests,” Pan commented with a slight warning in his voice. “Oh! And I have a few notes to go over with you later this week in preparation.”

“Goody,” Killian grumbled under his breath, earning him an elbow in his ribs.

“Until then… enjoy your new home.”

Killian shuddered and huffed out an exhale. Turning towards Emma, he was met with a stern look and disapproving hands on her hips.

“What has gotten into you?” she demanded.

“What are you--”

“Don’t give me that,” she countered. “You’ve been off all day. Earlier in the shower, then confronting the Lost Ones in the elevator, sassing Pan, smashing vases… Killian,” her expression softened as she reached up to cup his cheek. His face nuzzled into her touch as it was prone to do. “What is going on with you? Talk to me.”

Killian opened his mouth, but the words kept getting stuck in the back of his throat. He didn’t want to lie to her, didn’t want to keep this secret from her, but the alternative…

“I’m scared,” he choked out in no more than a whisper. “Scared I can’t… protect you. Scared that there will come a time when we are truly faced with an impossible choice, or that I’ll have to betray you in some way in order to protect you. Scared that I might be forced to do something you could never forgive. Something I could never forgive myself for.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” she said in an attempt to assuage his fears.

“You don’t know--”

“Yes, I do.” Her tone left no room for argument, but she continued on just the same. “Do you know how I know?” Killian shook his head. “Because I have the same fears. Because I know all of the terrible things you have imagined us having to endure and I have already forgiven you for each and every one of them.” Pressing her forehead against his, she closed her eyes and wet her lips before flicking her gaze up to his once more. “There is nothing - NOTHING - you could ever do in response to Pan’s insanity that I would not forgive you for, just as I hope you would be willing and able to forgive me for--”

“Always,” he said, cutting her off. “There is nothing I would not forgive, love. Nothing.”

A smile ghosted over her lips and she pressed in closer to him. “Then what do you say we get the broken vase cleaned up then make ourselves something to eat, hmm?”

“I suppose I could eat,” he said, pulling back slightly so he could gaze down at her. “Any requests?”

Emma’s brows shot up her forehead and surprise colored her features. “Don’t tell me you can cook.”

“I’ll have you know I am quite deft in the kitchen, Swan.” Waggling his brows, he added, “Almost as much as I am in the bedroom.”

Emma giggled and pulled him in for a kiss, but not before she murmured a final, affirming, “Yep. Total. Forgiveness.”

Part Eleven

[catboydogma]

from the left arm of the falconer

for lack of anywhere else to put this i am now posting my one (1) singular ow fic here as well. good evening

tags: cole cassidy/hanzo shimada, canon divergence, slow burn

wc: 3,478

summary:

“Come again?” Cole said, ears still ringing. The archer snorted and gave him a scornful look, bow only halfway lowered. “This is even sloppier than your usual work, cowboy. Do not tell me you are losing your edge.” “Hey,” Cole said, twirling his revolver like he was about to stick it back in his holster. The archer didn’t twitch, but his dark eyes followed the sweep of Cole’s serape. "I flushed you out anyway, didn’t I?" OR: Genji recruits Hanzo to bring Cole back to Overwatch. Only thing is, Hanzo can’t catch Cole because Cole is too busy dodging bullets. So, naturally, Hanzo comes to the conclusion that the bounties Cole is chasing will be easier to catch, which will get him ahead of Cole long enough to get a word in. This does backfire spectacularly in a particular way

The archer caught up to him on a Monday, which was a damn unlucky start to an already-unlucky week, in Cole's mind. He knocked open the door to his target to find the bounty plastered to the opposite wall with an arrow through his face. This was a high-profile catch, to be sure, but normally—

Well, normally Cole was the one to snatch a bounty out from under another’s nose.

The arrow was well-made, with a razor-sharp head buried deep into the drywall behind the mark and strong enough to hold the corpse up with it. Cole was a betting man, and so he would have sunk his hat on the shaft being some kind of composite-steel alloy. Flexible. Strong. Light. The fletching wasn’t any bird Cole could have identified in the American Southwest, and he had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be from any American bird at all—but make no mistake, those were hand-to-God real feathers on the end of that thing. It was strangely anachronistic; it nearly gave Cole a flash of déjà vu.

But he’d never been a nostalgic man.

At least now he had an answer to the shadow that had been dogging his steps ever since he’d hightailed it outta Santa Fe. Arizona was a goddamned miserable state to be in even when it wasn’t monsoon season, but now Cole had to deal with spontaneous flash floods and hail on top of this… he didn’t even know. Rival bounty hunter? Talon tail? Hell, at least now he knew it wasn’t an officer of the law looking to put him behind bars. No cop used a bow and arrow when they could get a state-issued assault rifle instead.

Whoever it was, precision mattered. And appearances.

Cole put it out of his mind. Maybe they were curious. Maybe they were lookin’ to capitalize on his name; maybe they wanted an autograph. Didn’t matter none. There was the road, and there were the jobs—the archer would move along soon enough. God knew they all did in the end.

And then the archer got to his next bounty before he could. And the next after that. Cole started to get an earful of a new player—an ex-Yakuza lieutenant who kept his face covered and left no trail. The archer wasn’t dogging his steps anymore—he was keeping pace. If not a step or two ahead. Now, this?

This was personal.

read more on ao3

[nerdylittleguy]

Transformers Earthspark theory - how Knockout could actually be Mr Smelt

....or ideas about it, anyway. Enjoy my observations!

So uhh here's where the neurodivergent urge to consume media and hyperfixate on it has lead me! Please, feast your eyes on my flow chart/ mind map of madness™.

I know the text is really small, if you click and zoom it could be easier to read. I did try to split the original image into quarters, hope that makes it a little easier to read. However, if anyone needs a transcript I'll do my best to sort it out, my only concern is that I have no clue how to link ideas if they're just bullet points (the idea of having a way to link ideas is what lead me to make this in this format :) )

Perhaps a bit of an explanation as to what lead to this?

A few weeks ago, I saw the Earthspark season 1 part 2 trailer and hey... Who's that?? Breakdown?? Of course, I immediately wanted to watch what existed of the series so far, and imagine my pleasant surprise when I heard Knock Out's (tfp) VA voiced a side character!

Anyway, I started watching the series, finished it in 3 days, cried tears of happiness over Nightshade's pronouns (for those of you who say representation doesn't matter, it does. You probably just feel represented), fell in love with Megatron, etc etc. But imagine my absolute, brain-rotting madness when I couldn't find episode 7 on youtube!

Meh, like that would stop my theory brain. Using various episode summaries I found on youtube (first and foremost this one, as it was short and had good attention to detail! But if anyone has any recommendations for other good summaries feel free to let me know), I started to slowly make a mindmap. That evening I found @transformers-earthspark's blog and the where-to-watch resources... Firefly I cannot thank you enough!!! You're literally amazing!! You have no idea how happy I was to find ep 7!! You do so much, give yourself a pat on the back and a nice snack :))

Anyways, armed with my new access to ALL the earthspark episodes (1 - 10, anyway, as only they are available atm), I remade some of my mindmap, added to it, made more points. Over the last few weeks (aka less than two) I polished my mindmap, did some colour-coding, added images, links, details etc until it could apparently fit on an A3 sheet?? What??? So many ideas from silly old me??

Obviously, I don't think I'm completely right. As a matter of fact, I think I made many assumptions and links that were a very big stretch (blame this overactive imagination of mine. I keep thinking of potential plot lines and then forgetting that actually, I made them up and they're not canon). However, I hope I made a few points that will inspire someone to make their own theories, or just have fun thinking!

Apologies if this all sounds garbled or if it's difficult to understand, I am tired and I have two languages running around in my head (that I'm fluent in, I've also tried to learn 5 others. Lingual hell!!!)

Have a good day/ night and enjoy the theories!

Also a quick note and thing to add: I wrote this on Monday the 27th (I draft just about everything in my notes ok), before I woke up on Tuesday and saw the new images from the episodes, including the one with Breakdown!! AHHH!! /pos So I guess I was right about something? And I mean... Breakdown and a theme of racing in one episode? If this is a coincidence and Knockout is not chilling somewhere in the background then I don't know what to say.

[inafieldofdaisies]

(WIP) Music (not) Monday Tag | Tagged by @simplegenius042

You're the fire to my bullet The peace in a war We're hot and cold Keep me wondering all the time How I crave you in the morning When the moon is fast asleep But I feel you burning my chest Like a feather of flames on me I'm a prisoner to all of her I question who I am How can such an innocent woman have such dangerous hands? All over me All over you All over me With such dangerous hands

Can you catch your breath, watch your back, do you ever wonder? Who walked into the room with the boom, boom of the thunder Do you see the havoc? Who has the key? Don't close your eyes Don't fall asleep You can call me a savage You can call me a beast In the middle of the madness, I sharpen my teeth I'm the queen of the jungle No one's wearing my crown I'm the queen of the jungle Watch them all bow down

Devoured now forever in the depths Pave my home Forever i'm yours, you're my never ending poltergeist Forever immortalized To her demise, the banshee cries I know that you'll always be faithful, dear darling Rachel Wickedness around me, dreary sonder Fallen for the darkness of a songbird I'm done breathing Take you by the hand I promise I'm not leaving Bury me in sand, oh, won't you end my grieving Don't misunderstand, I told you I'm done breathing

Night terror thats haunting your bad dreams The last mistake you get See my face when you think of your enemies Lock your doors and draw the blinds I've been to hell and back so many times Now you pay for your crimes LION These claws and teeth LION We kill em in their sleep I've seen a lover die I've see my house burn down I've seen the end of times I've seen my luck run out I know the heartache I know the edge of hope Now look what you've done to me Now you can know the pain I know

Tagging, @direwombat @strangefable @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @unholymilf @carlosoliveiraa @onehornedbeast @fourlittleseedlings @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @purplehairsecretlair @macs-babies @marivenah @finding-comfort-in-rain @voidika @jackiesarch @theelderhazelnut @cassietrn @aceghosts @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @dumbassdep @strafethesesinners @corvosattano @thesingularityseries @kyber-infinitygems @socially-awkward-skeleton @shellibisshe and anyone that would like to share some songs this week <3

[rainbowmess823]

You absolutely cannot change my mind about this:

- Steve is the mom, Robin is the dad, Eddie and Nancy are the step parents, and Jonathan and Argyle are the really cool uncles.

- Steve definitely mothers everyone, there's curfew, there's a carpool scheduled, and, even if he doesn't admit it, he has definitely got into a shout match with a ref or another mom about his kid and another kid.

- Robin definitely fits the dad, she helps out with the kid's homework (especially languages classes), she has thrown one punch at a jock for picking on one of the kids tho she made them swear never to let anyone know that she punched someone for them, and her arsenal of dad jokes help.

- Eddie and Nancy both are step-in parents when the kids can't find either Steve or Robin, there's usually a threat of violence involved and the kids feeling extremely safe with the two tho both Steve and Robin scold all of them for it.

---

"No, Eddie! You can't say you'll summon Satan if they pick on Dustin."

"Nancy don't flash them your revolver please, I know they shoved Lucas but bullets wont solve this."

"THAT IS NOT WHAT WE RESORT TO WHEN PEOPLE TALK ABOUT MAX AND HER WHEELCHAIR! NO PUT MY BAT DOWN!"

"I'm not mad but...when we agreed to talk I imagined the talking with less threat of bodily harm and more of 'Hey! that's my brother so back off or else.' But it works."

---

- Jonathan and Argyle are very much the chill, laid-back uncles for when the kids just want to vent or want to see a different kind of perspective.

- Steve and Eddie parent Dustin and they have Sunday morning put aside for sci-fi movies in their pajamas.

- Robin parents the Sinclairs who loves that they get Robin to themselves on Mondays bcos they get milkshakes and talk about easy stuff like how their week is so far or Robin teaching them new shit.

- Eddie and Robin share custody of Will with Jonathan and all four of them have a bi-weekly gossip session at a diner, they talk shit about ppl and judge jocks.

---

"He's so stupid but so cute."

"You are down baaaad, mini Byers."

"He was terrible in California, I wanna hit him."

"I'll hold him down and you can handle him."

"I like the way you think, Buckley."

"We have a deal, Byers."

"Remind me never to get on your bad sides."

"Please don't."

---

- Robin and Nancy parents Max and they have a day-in every Sunday morning where they play music and do their own thing, Nancy's working on her article, Robin is reading her other language book, and Max is playing tea party with Holly (who sneaks her way in every morning to play with her new big sister Max).

- Nancy and Jonathan parents Mike and it a more of a subtle parenting caring thing bcos all three of them are emotionally constipated, there's casual check-ins and subtle reassurances.

- Argyle and El are the communal uncle and child, respectively.

- The kids go to Argyle for advice about anything under the sun and loves his relax attitude on life.

- The teens love El and makes sure she gets a semi-normal childhood which mean cartoon Friday with Steve, learning new things with Robin, shopping with Nancy, listening to new music with Eddie, bedtime stories with Jonathan, and advice about what life can be with Argyle.

- Everyone is absolutely terrified of Jonathan and Robin that when being scolded the two are used as a threat.

---

"Mike you better be down here on time or I'll have Jonathan and Robin teach you about punctuality!"

"I said no, Henderson! I swear to God, I'll have Jon and Rob take you for the week instead."

"Usually I'd say "hell yeah, red!" But Jonny and Buck scare me as much as they scare you and they'll find out we did this so I'm gonna have to say no."

---

- Jonathan and Robin get along so well and together they can get so scary.

- When the entire party are hanging out together they get scared when both Jonathan and Robin being scolding them bcos it's scarier than Nancy and definitely scarier than the Updie Down.

---

"I told you it was a bad idea! We're gonna get I trouble!"

"Relaaax, Eddie wouldn't care, Nancy's always telling us to do it ourselves and Steve won't know."

"I don't think stealing booze from the cabin counts, Michael."

"Don't call me, Michael!"

"They can't say anything all three of them drank waaaay more at our age anyway."

"Dustin, you may have a point but that's not what I'm worried about."

"Will's right you guys. Robbie and Jonathan are here so maybe we shouldn't be doing this."

"We'll be fi--"

"What do you four think you're doing?"

"That better not be alcohol, mini dinguses."

"Shit."

----

Tadaaaaa? I just find it funny just how scary both Jonathan and Robin can be. Just imagine for a bit how scary those two can be together when any of the kids are theirs for the week. They'd be so chill but as soon as you do a wrong they can be so firm that none of the older teens would dare cross both of them. Anyway! Tadaaaa

[eridanidreams]

Snippet Sundae Falls On A Monday This Week

tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @therealgchu, @staticpallour, @artemis-crimson, @genesisarclite and @constellation2330

from the upcoming chapter of stars through my fingers like grains of sand

Cait took another drink, then let out a sigh. "Just your arm candy, Sam?" Ah, so that had gotten to her. Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Jade recognized you."

"You noticed that, too?" Sam wasn't real happy about the way his past kept cropping up, but he had to admit, that at the moment, it could be very useful.

Cait blew out a hard breath. "It's not too late for me to bring Andreja in." She toyed with the bottle in her hands. "This—You've been with me this whole case, and I—I can't help thinking that we've blown through that line where you needed to stop. Because—" she faltered, and he wrapped one of her hands in his.

"Because I love you?" he asked, and watched her cheeks flush. "Not going to lie, that does make a difference. But—" he held up his other hand to forestall her protest "—that's not the only thing." He took a deep breath. "Lillian had a… tendency… to leave me behind. Not intentionally, but she'd get the bit in her teeth and I'd be scrambling to keep up. If you needed her help, she was absolutely reliable, but she wasn't going to slow down for her partners. And… there were times I felt she didn't have my back." Which had bled over into parenting—but that was neither here nor there. He gave Cait's hand a squeeze, then let it go and shoved the basket of fried nuggets toward her. "Eat. You've got that look on you." She gave him a faintly exasperated look, but started in on the food. "Anyway—you're the exact opposite of that. You've taken bullets for me, love. And you're always keeping tabs on how I feel about things. And—hell. I told you there were things I liked about being a Ranger, right? It wasn't all bad. Wasn't much for bringing a boot down on people who just made a mistake trying to get by, but stopping the real bad guys was a genuine pleasure."

Cait swallowed. "If you're trying to tell me something, just spit it out," she grumbled. "Your nerves are jumping around like water on a hot radiator."

Sam sighed. "Daniel asked me to come back so you'd have a Ranger partnered with you." Her brows furrowed in a thunderous scowl; before she got to the point of exploding, he added, "Has to do with something you told him?" He watched the anger bleed into embarrassment. "And that he just doesn't have anyone else he can send with you."

She sent an exasperated glance skyward. "Everyone's on him because there aren't enough Rangers to go around."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Some of that animosity toward me? It's deserved. I damn well knew there weren't enough hands to do the job and I still walked away."

"Because the job was eating you alive!" she snapped. "And because Cora needed a real parent, not someone whose first dedication is to the job!"

Sam grimaced, conceding the point. "That's all true," he agreed, "but things have changed. Cora's older now, able to understand the importance of what we do. And we've got a pretty good support system going now that'll keep her as safe as possible. And I'd be your partner, watching your back. No one else's. Daniel was clear on that. Which… is what I'm already doing."

"It's the principle of the thing," Cait seethed. "I promised you, Sam."

"You did," he acknowledged. "You weren't the one who asked. And Daniel has a good point." He stole one of her fried meat nuggets and regretted it as soon as he bit into it. He managed to choke it down, washing the aftertaste away with the last of his beer. "Jesus. What the hell are those things made of?"

The glints of color in her eyes shifted from mauve to blue. "Mauler." At his grimace of revulsion, she added wickedly, "'Eat them before they eat you', wasn't it?"

He shook his head wryly, glad to see her good humor peeking through. "It does beat raw ashta, I'll give it that. —Cait, I'm not a kid anymore. And this isn't a snap decision; I've been thinking it over for a good week. Pros and cons both. Was thinking of making it a trial period, see if it works out. If it doesn't…" he shrugged. "We'll figure it out. But for now, it's a situation I can live with." He gave her a lopsided grin as an old, old tagline came to mind. "Search my feelings. You know it to be true." Cait burst into laughter as he leaned back in his chair, feeling smug. God, he loved that sound.

[didyoutrydynamite]

Charlotte and Lucien meet Harriet during them coming to visit their son. Do they find out that she and their son having something going on, or are they clueless about it like most others?

Harriet: Hey, Jaune, what the hell? You didn't show up. You could have at least left a message if you were going to bail.

Jaune: Oh crap! I'm so sorry! I totally got distracted, you see my-

Lucien: Hey there! Sorry if we kept Jaune from you today, we sort of just dropped in.

Charlotte: So very sorry! Jaune, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?

Jaune: *Sweatdrop* Y-Yeah. Mom and Dad, this is Harriet Bree. Harriet, these are my parents Charlotte and Lucien Arc.

Harriet: *Stiffens up and suddenly feels strangely nervous and bashful* H-Hello! W-Welcome to Atlas. T-Thankyou for putting your son in my care. *Slight bow.*

Charlotte: *Tilts her head quizzically* In your care? How so?

Harriet: *Internally screams* (SHIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTT!!!!)

Jaune: *Panics* S-She's an Atlesian Specialist! Sometimes they come to Bulwark to help the students train!

Lucien: *Whistles* Atlesian Specialist huh? Those guys are no joke. How old are you?

Harriet: *Blush hard* I-I'm only seven years older than your son!

Charlotte/ Lucien: *Leans back in surprise from the outburst*

Jaune: *Internally dying from embarrassment*

Charlotte: I see... and what were you two meeting up for again?

Jaune: T-Training! She's my personal trainer. We have an arrangement to meet after school on Mondays-

Harriet: -B-But only to train! N-Nothing else! (GODDAMNIT HARRIET YOU'RE A SPEC-OPS SOLDIER. GET A GRIP!)

Lucien: *Lightbulb goes off in his head and suddenly feels ten times more proud of his son.* Whoa.

Charlotte: *Smells blood in the water and gets a predatory glint in her eye like she found delicious prey.* Oh~? Well isn't that courteous? Harriet, would you like to join the three of us for dinner? It's the least we can do in favor of looking out for our son~

Harriet: T-Thankyou, but I think I left the oven on- *Suddenly feels her hand in a vice grip*

Charlotte: *Holding onto Harriet's hand* Please. I insist. Now, what's your opinion on children?

Harriet: *Sweating bullets*