#Chris the strawberry blonde romantic

[sloanaffirmations]

Slaffs would u mind explaining all the members of the band 2 a newbie…. 🥺👉👈

I have 9 minutes i on breka lets do gthis

Chris - chris is extremely cahrismatic. He has just a lot of fun and he has a lot of hjokes perhaps like i b his back pocketm sorry if i mispell lol. He seems to be a very pasisonate individual, he has an amount of insecurity that motivates hi MN to him to outdo himself (i under the impression). He is not a fraid to start a conversation. He has brown hair and glasses and likes to pose for the camera in a sort of. Pressing his cheek against your forehead manner. Theres lots of proof of this. He really like to live in canada. He is friends with jay

Jay - jay really is just the twee member of sloan he has strawberry blonde hair ad my poll had condluded. I have never heard someonensay somethinf bad about meeting jay, he likes to bhave fun like chris but he is less oit of pocket. He is a collector type. He likes vintage things and is really inspired by his childhood times of workig. In a record store. He is nice and likes to listen to Mike Love. He produced. Agood band like local rabbits because he has good taste.. Bard to He likes denim

Patrick - I HAVE 5 MORE MINUTES NO. Okay patrick has dark hair and glasses, he likes to wear black clothes. Patrick is heavily inspired by hard rock sometimes but dont let that fool you. He is a hopeless romantic in a lot of his songs. He seems very shy at times and soemtikes people think that thats him being mean but perosnally i dont think hes mean!!!!! I think hes just shy like me and he likes to experiment with music aka destroytomorrow666 and And he likes to be silly sometimes rslaly. And he loves to write he has a long hisyroy of writing anf hes good at it and dave bidini thinks he should write for the west end phoendix

Andrew - andrea is a painter first musician second who bought a house to live in not flip. He looks like stewart copeland. He seems very quiet and has a wry sens eof humor and hes a big fan of thi gs sort of suxh as trucks, motorbikes, sharjs, and the color pink which he b puts in his beautiful artworks. He was akn in a movie in hmmm around 1994 maybe dm me for details. He likes to respond to bots in instagtam comment sections. Hes pretyy darn good at srumming drummkign

And yep. Theres a lot a i lefy out and maybe some of this is uou know.....rumors. but i wouldnt give you anh infirmation that i didnt believe . Rumors can be true

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Jake guard dog AU

Soooooo after that Jake guard dog au was mentioned on Ash‘s blog months ago it lived rent free in my head and I just had to write a small fanfic about this.

This will be two parter :3 have fun with part one :3

Thank you so much @ashintheairlikesnow for letting me write your wonderful characters :3 <3

„I I I I‘m fine mom. Aunt Nat is is is, is really nice. Every- everyone here is“

Tristan Higgs listened to his mother sigh on the other end of the speaker, fingers tapping a relentless rhythm against the cheap throw away phone pressed close to his ear. The second one in over a month. The second time he heard his mothers voice in 33 days.

„Are you, you you you and dad, dad okay?“

I miss you. Please hurry and get me back.

„Yeah. We are, baby. I talked with him yesterday and he and your uncle are working hard to fix the garden. Everything‘s going to be alright Tris.“

Garden?! You don‘t need to call his stupid job, stupid garden anymore.

Tristan squashed his anger down as best he could, unwilling to waste the few precious seconds he could listen to his mothers voice with his anger, and nodded. Once. Twice. A third time, until he realized that Ronnie couldn‘t see him.

„Okay.“

„Tris,baby I should- we need to hang up now.“

There were tears in his mothers voice. So badly concealed even he could pick them up.

And he hated it.

She had never been anything less than a fierce thunderstorm waiting to come down on whoever was threatening their family but now-

Right now she sounded as lost as Tristan felt and it was all his stupid dads fault. Stupid Paul Higgs with his stupid job. Why couldn‘t he just be a stupid salesman like all the other stupid dads in this stupid stupid stupid world?!

A dull pain sparked up his fingers under the force of his tapping against the wall. If one could still call it that. It was more of rhythmic fingertip punches, in sync with his rocking. The bed he was sitting on creaked under the force of his anger.

„Baby? I love you Tris.“

Words were getting difficult to force past his lips but he had to tell her. Needed her to know before the line went dead for another two weeks.

„Love... you too.“

The call terminated with an impossibly quiet ‚click‘ and an ear-piercingly shrill beep.

He threw the phone against the wall before he could hit the tiny red speaker button.

______________________________________________________________

Tris tiptoed down the stairs hours later. Eyes still red rimmed and cheeks puffy.

„Should I go and get him, Nat? He will miss dinner.“

„Give him some time Antoni. He‘ll come when he‘s ready.“ As if she had sensed him, did Nat turn to the kitchen entrance. Warm brown eyes crinkling with her smile. „Tristan, you‘re right on time. Antoni  made piroshki.“  

A nervous smile danced around his lips as he felt Antoni‘s eyes settle on him and his fingers tapped gently over his empty stomach.

The food smelled delicious.

„I I I I I- Sorry for for for blocking your, your room all day.“

„You did?“ Antoni turned and fished a plate from a cupboard. Started to load it full of the cheese filled dumplings Tristan had learned to love since a friend of his father had dropped him off at Nat‘s doorstep on that rainy summer night. „I was so caught up in cooking, I did not notice.“

Tris ducked his head and sat down with a sheepish grin.

______________________________________________________________

It was in the dead of night when the doorbell rang. Startling Tris from his fitful nightmare ridden sleep.

There had been blood on their living room wall. Blood and cold skin. She had been so, so terribly cold.

Antoni‘s bed creaked on the other side of their room and Tris could see the shadowy outline of him slowly sitting up.

The night stole parts of his voice away, leaving only a quiet cracking whisper. „What what what is, is going on?“

„A new rescue, I think.“

Both of them listened in quiet anticipation. Tris strained his ears.

Muffled voices came from downstairs. Nat argued with a man but Tris couldn‘t, for the life of him, hear about what.  

„You will wait hear.“ Antoni muttered softly and swung his legs over the mattress. Landing soundlessly on bare feet. „I will go and see what is going on.“

The door opened without a sound under Antoni‘s careful hands and he disappeared into the hall.

Tris stared at the thin stripe of faint light illuminating the floorboards. His green round eyes followed it to the door, slightly ajar. The voices were still to faint to make out any words.

He slipped out of his bed. Heart stuck in his throat. Hammering wildly. Like a bird eager to break free.

The door gave the faintest of creaks as  Tris sneaked after Antoni.

Guilt for disobeying the man who had taken such gentle care of him since he arrived here and his insatiable curiosity fought in his stomach, twisting it into nauseating knots, but his feet already moved. Making the decision for his mind.

Antoni crouched close to the banister, peering down into the hall, not noticing Tris until he was nearly next to him. He whipped around quiet as he could, fixing Tris with a stern look and gesturing for him to go back to their room.

Tristan hunched his shoulders up to his ears, finger twist and tapp tapp tapping against his leg, but he didn‘t move.

The visitors pleading broke the tension between them. Antoni nodded for Tris to come over, a finger pressed to his lips.

Be silent.

Tris nodded, creeping closer with a barley bitten back smile.

„Nat, none of the other shelters wants to take him. I beg you-“

„Listen I-“ The sigh that followed betrayed Natalie Yoder‘s age. Years of hard work and endless tired nights lingered in her exhale. „Trust me I would love nothing more than to help him, but I can‘t take a half feral guard dog in. Not right now.“

„Yoder please. I know you‘re concerned, hell everybody is, but he‘s really in no condition to give anyone trouble. Not with one leg broken and the other ankle sprained. Please just for a couple days. Until I found him another shelter to stay.“

Tris strained his neck and caught a glimpse of Nat, pinching her nose. Her braid was stuck under a washed out, hastily thrown on flannel.

„He can‘t walk?“

„Not without help or breaking down after three steps, no.“

„What happened?“

„From what I gathered? His owner got tired of him and threw him out a driving car. I found him half delirious down a road side slope. Nearly two days ago. He‘s patched up as best I could but he needs rest, and someone to take care of him. Nat you know I don‘t have the time too-“

„Okay, okay. To hell with it all. Help me get him inside.“

„Has anyone ever told you that you‘re a literal angle Natalie Yoder.“

She followed the stranger with a pained snort. Disappearing into the night.  

Just as Antoni gestured for them to go back to their room, did the front door open again.

A blond, giant of a man was half dragged half carried inside. Muscular arms slung over Nat and the stranger‘s shoulders as they helped him get inside, both huffing and grunting under the effort.

Only he remained utterly silent through it all. Even as his bandaged feed took step after ginger step towards the living room.

Tris could see his shoulders tremble, ever so faintly.

When the man suddenly lifted his pale sweaty face.

Chris froze as blue haunted eyes bored into his.

[whump-tr0pes]

Jake/Isaac comf Part 1/3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

This post inspired me to write a few crossover drabbles of what would happen if Jake “I’m there for everyone but me” Stanton met Isaac “I’ll die before I show any weakness” Moore and... I love them. I love my boys.

Jake, Chris, Antoni, and Ash’s BBU story belong to @ashintheairlikesnow and are used here with permission. You can find Isaac’s story here.

Content warning: BBU, implied pet whump, blood, self-hatred

~

Jake wasn’t used to housing people who weren’t ex-pets. He wasn’t used to having people show up to his doorstep, bleeding and out of breath and barely on their feet. The man’s sandy-blond hair was caked with blood from a gash that stretched over his right eye and disappeared into his hairline. Deep blue-black circles looking almost like bruises were carved into the skin below his light-brown eyes. Jake stared at him for a moment before the stranger swayed and fell to one knee.

Jake lunged forward and caught the man before he toppled over. He dug his fingers into the man’s arm and did his best to drag him upright. 

Jake swallowed. “Wh-who-”

“Nat,” the man gasped. “Nat said...” He moaned softly as Jake heaved him over the threshold and closed the door behind him with one more glance around the street. 

Jake easily had two inches of height and thirty pounds of muscle on the man, but he grunted as he half-dragged him into the living room. He nearly collided with Chris, whose wide green eyes went wider as he looked the man up and down.

“Who, who, who is—”

“I don’t know,” Jake growled. “Go get some towels from the linen closet. Bring them to the living room, Chris.”

Chris didn’t hesitate before turning to dash to the closet in the hall, stacked to the ceiling with blankets, sheets and towels. 

The man staggered beside Jake as he helped him into the living room. Jake adjusted his grip around the man’s waist as he stood, waiting for Chris to come back with the towels. The man’s legs shook under him and sweat broke out on his forehead as he sagged against Jake. Chris appeared with an armload of towels. 

“Lay them out on the couch Chris,” Jake said quickly, holding the man tighter around the waist. Chris bounced forward as he laid one towel out over the cushions, then another, then another. He chewed his lip as he looked up at Jake, his curtain of copper-colored hair falling over one eye.

Jake gently eased the man down onto the couch, grimacing as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. The man slumped back against the cushions, pressing a hand to his side, where a bloom of red was soaking through his shirt. When Jake pulled his hand away, he realized it was coated with blood. 

“Chris, go upstairs,” Jake said through his teeth. “Now. Get Antoni and stay in your room.”

Chris looked up at Jake with wide eyes. “B-but-”

“Now,” Jake snapped, without meaning to. Chris’s eyes went wide with fear and he scampered up the stairs without a look back.

Jake cursed himself and turned back to face the stranger lying slumped on the couch. He was staring up at him with pain-glazed eyes, his skin a shade paler than it had been a minute ago. 

Jake ground his teeth together. “Are you putting my rescues in danger?” he said softly, only too aware of the threat in his words.

“I d-don’t think so,” the man breathed. “Please. I… I don’t need to stay for, for very long. Just long enough to… stop the bleeding. I’m sorry, I… Nat said if things went sideways I could, could come here and—”

“What went sideways?” Jake rasped, his hands curling into fists.

The man heaved out a bitter laugh. “What’s left of our op,” he said heavily. “T-trying to free a shipment of new—” He swallowed hard, darkness passing over his face. “—rescues. Or, they would be if I…” The man squeezed his eyes shut. “If I hadn’t fucked it up…”

“Wait.” Jake stared at the man. “Are you… pet lib?”

Another bitter laugh. “If you could call it that. I didn’t liberate shit this time.” The man’s face crumpled, and for a moment his eyes shone with tears.

Jake’s throat bobbed. “Did… What happened?” He shook himself, as if remembering what he was doing. “What can I do?”

The man groaned. “I need… I mean, I’m guessing you don’t have any suture kits?” Jake shook his head. “Shit.” The man chewed his lip. “Butterfly closures?”

Jake nodded slowly. “Probably?” he croaked. He cleared his throat. “Do you need… water, or something?”

The man breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Water would be, would be good. And isopropyl. Maybe some bandages. I don’t think I can take a shower before I get these stitched up, but—” He moved to get up. 

“No,” Jake said in a rush, moving quickly towards the kitchen. “Just… sit tight.” He went to the kitchen and took down a cup to fill with water. He winced as Jake’s hand smeared the man’s blood on the glass. He washed his hand in the sink before he grabbed the glass and filled it to the brim with water.

When he went back into the living room, the man was leaned forward, breathing hard, whimpering with each exhale. When the man heard Jake enter the room he sat up slightly, clenching his jaw until he didn’t make a sound. Jake’s hand shook as he handed the glass to the man. He drained it immediately.

“Let me help you to the bathroom,” Jake said, reaching down to help the man up from the couch. The man moaned softly as he staggered to his feet, pressing his hand to his side. He limped along beside Jake, and Jake had no doubt the man was hiding the worst of his pain. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” Jake said, glancing at the man sidelong. The man’s face was twisted with pain, his skin slick with sweat. 

“Isaac,” the man gasped, sighing with relief as Jake walked him into the bathroom and helped him lean on the sink. “Isaac Moore.”

[boxboysandotherwhump]

I don't know why but this gives me such Chris vibes. I kinda headcanon @ashintheairlikesnow Chris having Disney Princess powers when it comes to animals :3

A baby squirrel broken into my student house while I was eating dinner. I think we are besties now 😍😍 

(via)

[newandfiguringitout]

Mood-Board for Chris

This is a present for @ashintheairlikesnow for successfully taking a well deserved break from writing!! So proud of you Ash and glad you are taking time for yourself!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🔪 for Chris!

🔪 Awake surgery

CW: Referenced hand whump, blood, sadism, reluctant whumper, facility whump, BBU

"You have got to be joking." The doctor dried his hands off on the single-use towel he held, watching through the one-way window as the trainee inside sat, shaking his head at a nurse who was speaking to him in a low voice. He shook it less like he was saying no and more like he was simply denying that she was speaking at all. "Him again? What the fuck is Petrus doing to this kid? It's only been, what, four days since I got him out of the clinic in the first place!"

"I mean, you know what he does to him, he's one of the little sluts." The handler rolls his eyes. "Petrus fucks him stupid, not that any of them have brains to begin with. But this time 223499 dropped a glass during his Mixology class. Can't pin it this one on Petrus, it's all on 499 being a little bitch again. His Mixology instructor says he's a clumsy little shit."

"Great. Okay." Dr. Ross has a headache already. He hates this place, hates the crude, aggressive handlers and the way they talk about - and to - the trainees. He hates sewing the injured trainees up only to see them again, with new wounds needing dressed and new terror in their eyes. He hates everything about this job except the paycheck.

He can't wait to get another job and get the hell out of here.

The Facility gets to him - it works its way down under his skin, seeing the haunted, nervous way the trainees looked around all the time, trying to guess where pain would come from next. Trying to curry favor, to avoid the torture constantly forced on them anyway. He's been seeing their frightened faces and hearing them beg in his dreams far too often. "So he's here because..."

"It's a deep cut." The handler shrugs. "He needs stitches."

Dr. Ross looks back at the trainee. 223499 is holding perfectly still while the nurse turns his hand over. His palm is a mess of blood, darker than the new-penny shine of his hair. The trainee's stained fingers twitch nervously.

He's just a kid.

The same kid who'd automatically gone to his knees just a week ago, ready to do whatever he was commanded to, thoughtless obedience making the doctor's stomach turn.

He has to get out of here.

Dr. Ross swallows, feeling like there's a lump in his throat he just can't quite get rid of it. "Fine. I'll prep something to numb his hand, we'll give him a little bit of-"

"Nah." The handler shrugs, looking bored. "His primary's got a note on his file, didn't you see it? No painkillers for three weeks. Not even topical."

Dr. Ross watches 223499 flinch away from the nurse, who slaps him, making him cry out. The sound is muffled through the one-way window. As is the apology the boy provides immediately, stammering through it, only to be slapped again. This time, he doesn't cry out. He only cringes back, hunching into himself, and keeps his eyes down.

It makes Dr. Ross feel sick.

"... fine," He says, realizing the silence is drawing out too long. "I'll get him sewn up. He can go back to his room once it's done. Tell Petrus to leave him alone for one night, at least?"

The handler snorts with dry humor. "Yeah, good luck on that. But I'll tell him you said so. You want me to help you strap him down?"

Dr. Ross doesn't let himself look at the trainee again. "Yeah. Come in and strap him down while I prep."

"You got it, Doc." The handler gives him a lazy salute.

The kid doesn't fight being strapped down, but it doesn't matter. Once the work begins, the kid's back arches, he screams and thrashes wordlessly, then... even worse, he makes noises after like he's dying, low moaning sounds that seem barely human. He's shuddering, whispering apologies when all he'd done was drop a glass and try to clean it up too fast.

Dr. Ross goes home that night with the trainee's screaming in his ears. He hears the sounds the kid makes once the needle goes into his skin all weekend in his nightmares.

On Monday, he emails his resignation, effective immediately.

He's smart enough to have a one-way ticket booked for a country WRU isn't operating in before anyone reads it.

[retvenkos]

all that’s beyond my grasp;

listen to the playlist here on spotify!

a playlist to accompany the chaos of my mutuals and my dps adventures. lovingly curated by @johnskeating​ with additions made by yours truly, take a listen and allow yourself to be transported to another realm...

(for @johnskeating​​, @musicallisto​​, @onceupon-a-decembr​​, and @noesapphic​​)

group (1-9):

- prom queen, molly kate kestner - new romantics, taylor swift - runaway, AURORA - soldier, poet, king, oh the hellos - twin sized mattress, the front bottoms - cinnamon girl, lana del rey - we fell in love in october, girl in red - washing machine heart, mitski - armor, sara bareilles

pitts & olive (10-18):

- pleaser, wallows - blackbird, the beatles - cowboy like me, taylor swift - better together, jack johnson - lady by the sea, stephen sanchez - bookstore girl, charlie burg - like real people do, hozier - ho hey, the lumineers - apple pie, lizzy mcalpine

charlie & clara (19-27):

- classic, mkto - true love, p!nk - gold rush, taylor swift - make you mine, PUBLIC - R U mine?, arctic monkeys - romeo & juliet, peter mcpoland - electric love, borns - can't take my eyes off you, frankie valli - ophelia, the lumineers

neil & lindsay (28-36):

- fearless, taylor swift - ribs, lorde - something, the beatles - darling, christian leave - the lakes, taylor swift - fine line, harry styles - turtleneck love boy, spilt milk society - two, sleeping at last - strawberries & cigarettes, troye sivan

meeks & cass (37-45):

- jackie and wilson, hozier - i wanna be yours, arctic monkeys - honey, the coastal club - eloise, peter mcpoland - kiss her you fool, the kids that fly - i think he knows, taylor swift - sofia, clairo - pancakes for dinner, lizzy mcalpine - strawberry blond, mitski

chris & noe (46-54):

- i want to be with you, chloe moriondo - dandelions, ruth b. - cherry bomb, julianna joy - i choose you, adam melchor - paper rings, taylor swift - imagine, ben platt - 17, julia michaels - girls, girl in red - cloud 9, beach bunny

[newbornwhumperfly]

whump aesthetics: chris the strawberry blonde romantic (happy birthday, @ashintheairlikesnow!!! 💝🎉🎊💝🎉🎊💝 - i love this sweet brave boy with all my heart & i hope this does him justice!)

i am such a huge admirer of your beautiful work & when i saw it was your birthday, i figured it was the perfect time to post this moodboard that’s been in the works for a very long time💖💖💖 have a lovely day! 

[whump-tr0pes]

BABYYYYYY

I kept thinking about @ashintheairlikesnow tiny Tristan lining up his toys and making his parents trip over stuff and my hand slipped xD

[boxboysandotherwhump]

For the fic prompts: He was determined to do this one thing by himself.

thank you for the ask Ash :3

He was determined to do this one thing by himself.

He could do this. He knew he could!

C‘mon Tristan Higgs you‘ve done this a thousand times. At least. Or more? Yeah. Even more. Maybe two thousand times.

Or was that too much? How much exactly were two thousand in lived moments. In cracked open eggs and spilled milk and fried dough? Dough. Right. He needed to focus.

Flour. I need flour. Where‘s the flour?

Tris began to rummage through the cabinets, pulling out bowls and a whisk and some cups and pans along the way all while humming under his breath. „Flour flour flour flour flour. Must find it. Find the flour, find the flour, find the- There, there you are.“

That wasn‘t going so bad for now, right? No. Not bad at all. He‘d even found some chocolate sauce and sugar sprinkles and cheese balls. What he would do with them- Well he could think about that later.

First things first. Putting the flour in the bowl. After he measured it! Never forget the measuring. How much did he need again?

Making pancakes was way easier with mom.

Tears he refused to let fall prickled in his eyes as he pulled out his phone, tapped pancake recipe into the search-bar and hoped he would find one that wouldn‘t taste too wrong, be too different from his mom‘s.

But the pancakes weren‘t for himself.

They were for Jack and Nat when they would come back from Doctor Masuud and Jack‘s cast would finally be gone. And for Antoni. There was just always something... off about him, after therapy. But Tris could never quiet tell what. The only thing he knew with certainty was the best recipe against sadness were pancakes. His mom‘s pancakes to be precise but whatever he could throw together would have to be enough.

Like a foretaste of the real thing.

Wait. That was a brilliant idea, when he really thought about it. First they would get his and later-  He would ask his mom to make them all some when she came to get him.

Tristan spilled a bit a flour in his new found excitement but that was okay. He would clean it up later. And the milk landed in the bowl without incident, despite his endless giddy bouncing.  

[whump-tr0pes]

Jake/Isaac comf part 3/3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Isaac Moore works in the pet lib movement, rescuing pets from the BBU. After an op goes sideways, he ends up on the doorstep of Jake Stanton’s safehouse for rescued pets, bleeding, and needing a safe place to lie low. Jake helps treat Isaac’s wounds and sets him up on the couch to sleep until Isaac’s medic can get into town. When he’s awoken by Isaac screaming in his sleep, he goes downstairs to investigate, and finds a kindred spirit in Isaac.

Jake, Chris, Antoni, and Ash’s BBU story belong to @ashintheairlikesnow and are used here with permission. You can find Isaac’s story here.

Content warning: touch starved Jake, accidentally flirty behavior, scars, past torture, past pet whump, implied conditioning, implied past noncon, implied death

~

Jake shivered as Isaac’s arm settled around his shoulders, a warm, welcome pressure. Isaac’s hand gently rested on Jake’s bicep, roughened and calloused. In spite of himself, Jake’s eyes fluttered shut, and he drew in a deep breath. 

“Sorry I punched you,” Isaac said softly, and Jake’s shoulders tensed. “I… I wouldn’t have, ah, done that if I—”

“I should have turned on the light,” Jake said, his voice settling in the smooth, even tone he used with frightened rescues. “I mean… Jesus, you showed up on my porch, bleeding, and I… I don’t know. It’s just… it’s alright,” Jake said, turning his head. Without planning on it, without meaning to… he nosed against Isaac’s shoulder, and pressed his lips to the shirt stretched over what Jake was sure was more scars.

Isaac went still. “I…”

“I’m sorry,” Jake said in a rush. He pulled away from Isaac, his face burning. “I… I’m not trying to, I mean, I’m sorry, you literally just said…” He trailed off in a tight, miserable silence. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, looking down at the pattern of the blanket pulled around him. “It’s just… nice to be touched.”

Isaac relaxed, pulled Jake closer. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I… get that.”

“It’s just been a while. Since… anything.” I will never, never touch the rescues that way, and I don’t exactly have time for any other… anything…

Jake relaxed as he rested his head on Isaac’s shoulder, feeling just a little strange at being the one being held, this time. He was so used to being the one doing the holding. “You’re the world’s best big spoon,” a girlfriend had told him once, settling comfortably in his embrace. He breathed a sigh as Isaac leaned back against the arm of the couch until Jake was lying in his arms, with Isaac’s legs slung across Jake’s like he was sitting in his lap. Holding and being held. 

Jake found himself tracing one of the scars around Isaac’s wrist. He froze and dropped his hand.

“It’s okay,” Isaac said softly. “I’m… used to them, now.”

“What…” Jake’s mouth was dry. “Wh-what… happened?”

“There?” Isaac said softly, glancing at his wrist. Jake said nothing. After a moment, Isaac shrugged and tightened his arm around Jake’s shoulders. “Those were just from… fighting the cuffs. Over and over. After a while it leaves marks.”

Jake shivered as he thought of the marks below Kauri’s collarbones – and the lack of other marks, evidence of soft leather cuffs and silk rope and whispered promises that were never kept. His throat tightened as he imagined the entirely different kind of torture than the kind he was so used to dealing with, where shame and conditioning were more effective than any physical restraint.

I don’t think the ones like Isaac live to find us, he thought with an ache in his chest.

“And… and your stomach?” Jake said softly. 

Isaac shifted, but not uncomfortably – just adjusting where he sat on the couch. “Chest and stomach was a knife,” he murmured.

“Oh.” Jake’s voice shook. “And… wh-what else?”

When Isaac spoke, his voice was gentle, even, calm. As if he was speaking about someone else, something else, entirely. “Knife on the arms – cuts and burns. Back was the whip. And he… sometimes they’d just make him beat me, choke me. That usually didn’t leave marks. But I…” He rotated his left arm in its socket as if warding off an old ache. “When he got me out, he uh… kinda blew the place up.”

“What?” Jake gasped, sitting up slightly.

Isaac laughed softly. “Yeah. Gas. He turned on the gas for the burners in the kitchen and started a fire. When it finally blew…” Isaac’s eyes went distant. “A door exploded as we went through it. Tore up my shoulder. Gavin tells me I, um…” Isaac cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I nearly died.”

“Jesus,” Jake breathed. 

They both fell into a slightly tense silence. 

Still, with Isaac’s arms so tightly around him, with Isaac’s weight pressing down comfortably in Jake’s lap, a warmth moved slowly through him – a pleasant buzzing starting in his skin that made him feel sleepy and safe.

It made him feel safe.

Jake wet his lips and pressed his forehead against Isaac’s neck. Isaac’s arm tightened gently around Jake’s shoulders. 

“It’s… not your fault, you know,” Jake said softly. 

Isaac shrugged and said nothing, just stroked his other hand up and down Jake’s arm. 

Jake breathed slowly. “The… the rescues, I mean.”

Isaac went rigid against Jake. “Jake, I—”

“This is my life,” Jake said softly, heart sinking as Isaac’s skin seemed to cool against his. “Believe me, I… I know.” Slowly, he reached out and took Isaac’s hand. “It’s… not your fault.”

Isaac’s head tipped back, and Jake was certain he was trying to conceal tears. “Th-thanks, Jake,” he rasped.

Jake opened his mouth to push the issue, and found himself out of words to say. He knew nothing would ever soothe the pain if he lost a rescue, and Isaac had lost many. He laid his head back on Isaac’s shoulder and squeezed Isaac’s hand. Isaac sniffed, his head still tilted back. 

“I remember every single one,” Isaac said softly, and his voice broke.

Jake bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah?” he croaked.

Isaac nodded, and his stubble brushed against Jake’s cheek. “Every single rescue I lose. I remember them all.” His shoulders shook in a dry sob.

Jake lay still, his skin still warmed by Isaac’s touch, his torso shaking with Isaac’s sobs. He held his breath for a moment, lips trembling. “Do you remember the ones you save?” he said softly.

Isaac froze. He trembled in Jake’s arms, scarcely breathing. “Wh-what?”

Jake pulled away and met Isaac’s gaze. Tears swam in his eyes, and he looked up at Jake as if he had just thrown him a lifeline. Jake swallowed hard. “I remember the ones I save,” he whispered. “Every single one. Every name, every face. Some aren’t here for very long, some are here for years, but… I remember them. I remember them all.”

Isaac’s eyes darted between Jake’s. “Y-yeah?” he breathed. 

“Yeah,” Jake said as he settled in Isaac’s embrace again. Isaac’s arm was still tight around him, his hand still clasped in his, but it was a comfortable sort of silence. Jake settled even more as his muscles slowly relaxed, his breaths slowing, matching Isaac’s. Jake’s eyelids drooped shut as Isaac’s head fell back against the arm of the couch, drifted as Isaac started to snore. 

-

In the morning, Jake woke slowly, confused, sore. He blinked and looked around at the living room, lit by the soft grey of the coming dawn. He rubbed his eyes and sat up quickly as he suddenly remembered why he had fallen asleep on the couch. 

He was alone. The blankets were cold, his neck stiff from how it had twisted while he slept. He cast his gaze around the room, looking for Isaac. Hoping he’d stayed. 

Jake’s throat tightened as he saw the clothes he’d given Isaac, neatly folded in a stack on the coffee table. There was a single post-it note on top that Jake recognized from the stack in the kitchen, a single line of scrawl in black ink:

Thank you.

Jake raised his head to the sounds of feet on the floor above him. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. I should tell them they can come downstairs. They’re probably hungry and I...

Shit.

He groaned as he stood and made his way up the stairs. He saw a flash of copper hair as Chris peeked around the doorframe of his room and disappeared around it again. Antoni stood just inside the door, fixing Jake steadily with his almost-black, feline eyes. 

“Who was that, Jake?” Antoni asked softly. 

Chris bounced on his toes, tapping nervously at his stomach. “Wh-who, who, who was it? Was-was, was, was it…?” He chewed his lip as he focused his eyes just to the side of Jake’s face.

Jake tried to ignore the twist in his heart, the ache in his chest, the burn in his eyes. His lips trembled and he pressed them together. 

“A friend,” he said softly. “He was… a friend.”

[croonerboy1965]

As Many Forms of Love: Chapter 2- Thief of Hearts

By librarian-von-sassypants and croonerboy1965

Eddie didn’t detest formal dances exactly. He knew there wee good reasons for this one. It solidified his social standing, gave him less of an air of “crazy loner with the damaged son” which many people wanted to attribute to him. He just never saw the point of them otherwise. Crowding one hundred of your closest neighbors into a too-small room, making them dance and fraternize and eat food that everyone secretly thought was sub-par, where everyone talked about everyone else behind their backs, and smiled prettily to their faces.

Eddie had the good fortune of being a conventionally attractive man, and wealthy. He never lacked for conversation or dance partners, and he played the part obligingly, but if he had his way, he’d spend the evening with a book and a glass of brandy, or perhaps reading Christopher bedtime stories.

He’d made one ally early on. Lady Lena Bosko. Utterly beautiful, charming, and, as far as Eddie could tell, utterly uninterested in the company of men, at least in a romantic sense. She was the only female in the room, it seemed, who was not trying to foist hints of marriage upon him, and thus had become a wonderful companion with whom he could simply stand back and observe the party.

“Lady Fortense is absolutely sleeping with the Earl of Viconze,” she whispered to him behind her fan.

He was slightly enamoured with the way her vibrant red hair caught the candlelight around them and reflected it back like fire.

“She would never admit to it, of course, and neither would he, but you can bet her husband knows.”, she said.

Lena was abreast of all the latest gossip, and the circle she chose to share her vast knowledge with was small indeed.

“Poor Viconze,” Eddie remarked as he took another sip of his wine. “She’ll eat him alive.”

Lena smirked.

“She most certainly will.”, she said, biting into the ripe berry she pulled from the lip of Eddie’s glass.

Eddie was well aware that most people took their lingering on the edges of the room together to be a declaration of intent to marry, or at least of amorous feelings. In a way he took it for granted. He needed to find a wife. He knew, and Lena would make a spectacular one.

“So what about you?”, he asked. “Any inclination to nab yourself a husband? I am single, you know.”, Eddie said, as he took her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers gently.

Lena giggled and pulled her hand away, feigning shyness as she fanned herself, turning away.

“Well, you are charming, sir. And I can definitely see the benefit of a mutual bond.”, she said.

“Sadly, I have no real interest in the carnal pleasures of the company of men...You on the other hand,” She gave him a knowing look.

Eddie, looked down at his feet, and flushed hot in the face.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”, he said with mock indignation. Then he broke into a smile and they both laughed out loud.

“I guess we’re both just a couple of mavericks.” she said, taking his hand again and giving it a squeeze.

“Still-- it’s nice to have a friend in all this.”, Eddie motioned to the crowded ballroom.

It had been a month since he’d gotten settled into his country estate, made the tour of the surrounding homes, and introduced himself and Christopher the neighbors. Lena was by far his favorite of the lot, and he had visited her estate, where she lived with her aging father.

To their left, a hush seemed to ripple over the crowd, as a new guest arrived.

“Lady Arielle Valens, and Escort”, the announcer said. Lena commented without looking over.

“Everyone’s been up in arms about who she will invite to her ball later this year. It’s supposed to be one of the most exclusive and sought after invitations of the season.” She said to Eddie as she took a long swig from his wine.

A voluptuous woman entered the room, with a dashing, young, strawberry blonde man on her arm. Her face was set in a smile that seemed chiseled from stone, not quite real, not quite false. She wasn’t remarkable looking by any stretch of the imagination.

“There’s something… mysterious about her---intriguing.”, said Eddie. He had only met her once when he’d introduced himself initially, but on second look, was caught up in her strange web. Something about the way her blue eyes latched on and didn’t let go. Or how there was a secret second smile hidden beneath the veneer, one blossomed like the sun, when she’d sat in her drawing room with Christopher, who had regaled her with tales of growing up in London. That boy could charm the pants off of a gargoyle if given the chance, and Lady Arielle could not help but let her guard down, in spite of herself.

She and her companion were making the rounds of the room, and when they drew near to Eddie and Lena, she looked over, and winked conspiratorially.

Eddie couldn’t help but grin.

“A friend of yours?” Eddie asked.

Lena, he noted with some surprise, flushed so red she was nearly purple, and buried her face in her fan with a small grin she couldn’t seem to pry off her face.

“We have...met.”, she said.

“Well, we will absolutely be discussing that, later.”, Eddie said.

Eddie let his gaze linger over Arielle’s companion. She was, to everyone’s widespread knowledge, quite single, but managed to show up to parties with ridiculously attractive men on her arm, and this new one was no exception. Tall, thin, with strawberry blond curls, cheekbones that could cut glass, and a smile that whispered of both sex and confidence with each glance. There was something vaguely familiar about him, Eddie thought, though he couldn’t quite place it.

“Her new one is rather attractive,” Lena commented as the two of them watched the newcomers make a slow circle of the ballroom. Every single eye in the room was doing the same, though most everyone pretended to be busy doing anything else.

“Hmm?” Eddie was distracted.

“Lady Arielle’s new companion. I haven’t seen him before.” Lena said. There was jealousy in her eyes, Eddie was sure of it, but she didn’t take well to teasing, so he held his tongue.

Once they had made a full circuit of the ballroom, Lady Arielle and her companion ended up in proximity to Lena and Eddie, as several of the guests slowly gravitated into their orbit.

“Lord Diaz, Lady Bosko, delighted to see you again,” Lady Arielle made a small curtsy, and nod of her head. “May I introduce my friend, Sir Evan, Lord of Buckley Manor.”

Eddie had never heard of Buckley manor, and he’d studied the surrounding area extensively during his decision to move. Still, no one would ever call her out on it, definitely not Eddie, so he stayed comfortable in the knowledge.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Eddie sticks out his hand for the man to shake. Lord Buckley takes his hand gingerly, and even through the gloves, Eddie can feel the heat radiating off him. The man doesn’t do that usual firmer than necessary handshake, as men so often do with Eddie, in an attempt to assert dominance.

“This is Miss Lena Bosko,” Eddie introduced them, as Buckley took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the air just above it.

“The pleasure’s mine,” Buckley said, and the smile he gave her was absolutely breathtaking. ‘Too bad he’s barking up the wrong tree.’, Lena thought to herself.

“You both must come to my house for tea next week,” Lady Arielle smiled, though it was a mere whisper of her full force. “Do, bring Christopher!”

“Christopher?” Buckley asked the question, and then looked like he wished he could stuff the words back inside himself. Lady Arielle either didn’t notice or chose not to.

“Lord Eddie’s son!”, she said brightly, a little bit of sunshine leaked out when she talked about Chris. “Absolutely the most charming human I’ve ever come across. Buck is staying with us for a few weeks... He loves kids, don’t you Buck?”, she said.

So it was Buck now. Eddie made a note in his mental ledger.

“Indeed!” Buck says with a smile, but doesn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes.

Just then, a waltz began to play.

“Shall we have a dance?”, Lena said, in an attempt to break the tension.

“Of course.”, Eddie said.

“Shall we?”, said Buck, as he took Lady Valens by the arm and led her to the floor.

Arielle followed and soon they were swallowed up by the whirling flashes of color from a room full of glorious gowns.

Lena looked at Eddie as he led her round, her brow furrowed.

“Eddie, what is it?”, she asked.

“Nothing.”, he said as he guided her, a bit stiffly, in any direction that might put some distance between them and the Lady Valens.

“Eddie.”, Lena pressed. He was looking off in Buck and Arielle’s direction.

“How well do you know, the Lady Valens?”, he asked.

Lena cleared her throat, and said, “Fairly well.”

“How well?”, Eddie insisted.

“Well. Very well.”, she retorted, indicating she meant to add no more.

“Why?”, she asked.

“It’s just--her companion--”, but he was cut off as the pair of them bumped into he and Lena, throwing them ever so slightly off their rhythm.

“I beg your pardon, sir.”, Buck said, throwing Eddie a mischievous grin.

“Mind your steps!”, Eddie spat through a tight smile. As he came round to meet him on the next turn, Eddie almost caught his foot on the hem of Arielle’s gown, his eyes locked on Buck’s.

“Mind yours!”, Buck said, in mock indignation.

“Wha--?!”, Eddie scoffed.

“Buck! Mind your manners!”, Arielle said.

“Apologies Miss.”, Buck said, eyeing her buxom breasts. He thought perhaps he brushed them inadvertently.

“Not me, you nit!”, she said.

They had stopped in mid-round.

Buck looked up, face now red, and met Eddie’s gaze yet again. Try as he might, he could not speak. He felt embarrassed, yet --there was something else.

Lena turned away from Eddie, and tapped Arielle, on the shoulder.

“Might I cut in?”, she said. Arielle’s face became sunny, and she said, “But of course, Madame.”

Arielle met her palm in Lena’s and Lena placed her other hand around Arielle’s waist.

“Men.”, Lena sighed.

As they began their first turn on the floor, Arielle pushed her backside into Evan’s and he came immediately up against Eddie. Not knowing what else to do, he took Eddie in hand and began leading him in a waltz. The closeness, their eyes locked together, the slightest scent of sweet anise on Buck’s breath. His lips were crimson, almost blood red against his pale skin. Buck was slightly taller but his taught frame felt sinewy in Eddie’s arms. This made Eddie harden in his nethers, in spite of his better judgement.

Buck felt Eddie pressing against him, and his own rig twitched with desire.

He recalled the same sensation a few weeks ago, on the road. Buck could not believe he did not realize it sooner. This man. Sure, he is more groomed, more cultivated, more polished. But it is the same man. The one he almost robbed. The one he inadvertently molested.

He can see the exact second Eddie sees it on his face. Eddie can suddenly see through him. The brigand from the road. Nearly unrecognizable in a fashionable emerald waistcoat and cravat, but Eddie would recognize those eyes anywhere. Those stunning blue eyes.

It hits them both like an avalanche.

“YOU!?”, they said in unison. They separated, suddenly aware they had been pressed together a bit longer than either one intended. Then covered themselves as each one spied the other’s reaction to said closeness. They quickly covered themselves with their hands in as polite a clasp as they could manage. Evan could not believe this was the same man. He was so...regal. So...handsome. Not at all like the disheveled traveler he’s nearly robbed a fortnight ago.

“I believe it might be time for you to call it an evening, Lord Buckley.” he said, mocking the title.

“Indeed.”, Buck said, turning to go without another word. As he left, he slid past Kingston, who glared at him, and then looked worriedly at Eddie.

Eddie put up a hand, and then put it quickly back down again, to cover himself. “It’s alright, Kingston, it’s been taken care of.”, he said.

“What have you done?”, Arielle said, looking accusingly at Eddie. “Buck! Wait!” she called after him, but he was gone. Lena shot him a look.

“What?”, Eddie said.

“Miss Valens…” Eddie said. “My deepest apologies, I shall have Kingston call you a carriage, and escort you home.”

“I think you’ve done quite enough.”, Lena said. “I shall escort Lady Valens home.”

Lady Valens, gave her a sheepish look. “How kind.”, she said. And they paraded past Kingston, who looked quite confused.

==============================================================================

Buck walked briskly toward the gate, and as he opened it, he was met by the two henchman he was in league with. He stopped, hands raised.

“Hi fellas.”, he said.

“Hello to you.”, the larger of the two said, his gun drawn on Buck.

“Griff…”, he said, “We are calling this one off.”

“Cawlin’ it off??!!”, Griff said. “I don’t fink so.”, he stepped forward and Buck stepped back.

“I s’pose you were finking of leaving me and Shep out in the cold and taking all the booty for yourself, eh?”. Griff said.

“Yeah, yew tryin’t’ cut us owt?”, Shepp said. He puffed out his chest. He was a full head and a half shorter than Griff and Buck. He sniffed and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his coat. Griff looked over his shoulder at Shepp, making sure to intimidate him. Shepp shrank down and looked at the ground.

“Look, they just moved here, there really isn’t enough to bother looting.”, Buck tried to sound convincing,

Griff looked back toward the manor, and he could hear the chatter of voices and the strains of music off in the distance.

“Sounds to me like it’s ripe for the picking, wut wif all the fancy laawds and laydees and wot not.”, Griff said.

Buck tried to sound forceful in his protest.

“NO! I hired you and I say what goes! And I say, we aren’t doing this!”, Buck said as he stepped to Griff.

Griff took the butt of his gun and cracked Buck on the head, knocking him out. He fell like a rag doll to the ground.

“Who’s the boss now, eh?”, Griff said.

They stepped over Buck’s unconscious body and off in the direction of the house.

Just as Lena and Arielle, made it to the door, they stopped dead, as Griff pushed his way in and forced them back inside. Once in the ballroom, he announced, “Awright everyone, This is a sick up! Get your ‘ands in the air!”

The crowd stood still for a moment as the music stopped, unsure if this was really happening.

Griff shot the pistol into the air over his head. The loud blast cause some of the ladies to scream.

“I said, get ‘em up!”, he ordered. Now, if you do as we say, no one’s gonna get ‘urt…Put all your money and fancy jewels in this here bag,”, Griff said, as Shepp took out a satchel and went around the room collecting valuables.

Griff looked over at Eddie, who was stepping protectively in front of Lena and Arielle. He motioned at them to join the crowd now pressed against each other at the far end of the room. “Now nobody move and we will be off shortly, and y’can go back to your li’l soiree--“, Griff said, just as he heard a small voice from behind, him.

“Papa?!”, Christopher said as he made his way bleary eyed down the stairs.

Griff whirled on him and instinctively fired his gun.

“No!” Eddie shouted and he ran at Christopher and dove to grab him up.

The bullet went straight into Eddie’s back, just as he reached his son, shielding him from the blow. Christopher screamed.

Buck burst into the room, his eyes as wide as plates, and his mouth dropped open. Blood was streaming down the side of his face, as he looked first at Lena, then Arielle, then Griff and finally Eddie. He thought he should charge at Griff, but Kingston was already there and tacking him to the ground. Kingston smashed the man to his back and throttled him with one hand while gripping Griff by the wrist with the other. He put his full weight to bear on him and bashed his gun hand on the marble flooring repeatedly until the gun came free. Sheep, dropped the sack of valuables and made way to the gun, but Lady Valens was there first and cold cocked him squarely in the face, sending him flying, flat on his back. This made Buck smile just for a moment, and then his thoughts returned to Eddie. Lena was already at his side, when he reached them. Christopher was crying and squeezing his father around the neck, his face buried in Eddie’s shoulder.

“Papa! Pappa, NO!”, he cried.

Lena tried to calm Christopher, so she could turn Eddie over, but he would not be moved.

“Eddie…Eddie! Wake up!”, she wailed into his ear. Buck moved in and managed to pry the boy off so Eddie could be laid on his back.

Griff tried to wrestle himself free, but Arielle had him. She scooped up the pistol, cocked the hammer and said, “Don’t even think about it.”

“You go collect the little one, I’ve got this one well in hand, sir.”

She motioned for Kingston to get up and she took his place, straddling Griff, sitting her full weight upon him. Griff thought for a moment this might be something akin to fun, in any other context. He half smiled at her as he felt her fit into his lap.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, you hear?” She pointed the barrel down to the waistband area his pants, pressing the barrel against the fabric of her skirt hard enough where he could feel it tucked neatly between them. Griff’s half-grin faded to a look of horror as Arielle leaned in and whispered, “Best save that for the boys in the big house, eh? I hear they like a stodgy man-toy.”

Kingston, took the binding cords from the drapes and bound Shepp. “Someone fetch a doctor! And get the constable!”

Eddie loosed his hold on Christopher, who immediately threw himself forward on to Eddie’s chest and wept. His glasses were all akimbo as he pressed his face into his father.

“Right away!”, Buck stood and dashed out the door. He headed for the carriage house and unhitched and mounted the nearest horse. “Hyahh!”, he commanded. The horse bolted forward and off he rode into the night.

[tell-mi]

Neigbor

Being the flatmate of the successful attorney and playboy Chris Evans isn't always easy. But as his ex girlfriend turnes out to be the new girlfriend of your flatmate Marc, also your life was about to tipsy turn upside down.

Warnings: mentions of smut, fluff, mention of sex, alcohol, language

Two weeks! Since two weeks you had to surrender in peace with your flatmates. you didn't hate them. Well, at least not Marc, he was a wonderful soul. He was that kind person, everyone loves to hangout with. One, your mum would be proud of if you brought him home. But his best friend Chris was all opposite to him. He was a playboy like it is described in the books. Bringing home a new girl at least two times a week. He sure was good looking, yes, he was well trained and hae the most beautiful eyes you would have sworn you have ever seen. But character is nothing, what you would have ever paired with his name. At least he always picked you up at the university where he helped out during the law courses and you studied at. But you have to admit that the car ride was the only reference points you two had.

You haven't always been a flatmate of those two dorkheads. You moved to New York in the flat next opposite to the guys, to your bigger sister, Lana. Lana just broke up with her fiance and felt alone. And you needed some space nearer to the university, so you agreed her constantly begging for you to move in. Long story short, one day Luke knocked at you door and begged Lana to take him back, she agreed and he moved back in. The wonderful overly romantic mood was going on your nerves very soon. And as you cursed a little bit too loud in the buildings floor again you've got offered the flat from the guys.

***

Three weeks ago:

"God damnit would you please fuck in your room and not moan all over the house!!?" You slammed the door of your flat, standing in the hall ready to go to the flower shop. You couldn't sleep the whole night due to your sister and her boyfriends constantly love makeing. Tired, with a huge coffee in your hand, which you almost tossed down in fright as Chris headed upstairs. "I hope you didn't meant me and...Jenna! No Jenny?..Joana?.. whatever!" he grinned mischievous towards you. Annoyed you rolled your eyes at him. "It's not only you, idiot, which keeps is all up at night with your sex noises. Lana and Luke are constantly over each other since they're back together." "They are?" he must have just been returned from a run since he now started to stretch infront of you. You caught yourself staring a little bit to long at his muscles which initiate under his clothes. Damn, has he a nice butt. "Luke just moved in again" you tried to ignore his butt. "AHH.. that's why he didn't come back to sleep in his room for even one night the last five days!" he turned to you. "Like what you see?" With a childish grin he asked. You were totally pulled out of your thoughts. The not staring didn't worked out the right way. "Shut up dickhead, you were the one who stretched his ass towards me. A women can also have a quick look" you tried to explain yourself and head down stairs.

***

It was a long shift at the flower shop and you had been so happy to be close to call it a day as Marc entered the flower shop in the last minute.

"Don't tell me you forgot your mum's birthday or something?" you raised an eyebrow at him "A last minute flower call is never a good sign.. besides why are you looking so fancy?" "Hey you, nice to see ya too." you rolled your eyes at Marcs constantly kindness. "No...Hey, I just wanted to tell you something, the boys and I discussed about. And... actually I have a date in a few minutes and thought a nice flower might be a good way to leave a good impression"

"Good point, gentleman. I will prep a pink rose if that's okay?" "Sounds great." he spoke a bit louder now since you strayed somewhere in the background to pack his flower. "By the way, Chris told me that your housing situation is a bit difficult lately." still working on the green for the flower you stretched your head to look at Marc "Pah, I whish it would be difficult. It's freaking nerve wrecking!" "Yeah, I know how annoying it can be...Anyway, so we talked to Luke and offered him to swap his room with yours. Only if you agree, for sure."

"Excuse me?" you asked yourself if you overheard anything or if Marc really offered you to swap rooms.

"Yeah, well you know. We know how exhausting Luke and Lana could be when they are totally over each others. We experienced I ourselves. So, Chris had the idea to ask Luke and he is totally fine with it. If you agree, you can start to move in directly tomorrow. I am off for work but Chris already offered to help with all the furniture and stuff."

Not even thinking about the offer for one minute you agreed. "Sounds like a plan!" you smiled to Marc and handed him the beautiful pink rose.

***

The next day you already sat in your new flats living room. All parcels had been packed and half already unpacked. Thank god for the short distance it didn't took to long. To your surprise Chris really helped you with the carrying of the 'heavy stuff' "You really don't believe I would have handled it on my own, do you?" "Mary!" he chuckled out "look at you! You are..so tiny." he nearly whined the 'tiny' which let you only roll your eyes at him "There's no way you could have lifted your fully packed wardrobe alone." "I'm not tiny, I'm greatness packed compact!" You glared him a serious look while you gestured your body shape with your arms. Chris let out a laugh which filled his whole body. He threw away his upper bod and smacked himself on the chest. You don't really knew what was THaT funny, but his heartwarming laugh made yourself smile in his direction. "By the way, don't call me Mary. For you I'm still Marianne" "As long as I have to help you with your movement, you are Mary" he wrapped his huge arm around your shoulder,pulling you in to a sidehug. You can't help but roll your eyes about his cockyness but somehow you enjoyed the way, you two might be heading to.

***

It was the end of summer and the sun set down a bit earlier by now. As it turned to become dark you've finally unpacked the last stuff into your cabinets. Exhausted you popped down and let yourself rest on your bed. The door of your room still a bit open. "Beer?" You heard Chris scream across the living room towards you. Does he really tries to be nice to you? You two didn't ever had many contact points the last half year since you lived in New York. The only talk you've had was about his one-night-stands whenever you saw them leave his flat like a proud macho. You, for your side always ended it and let him know so. He was a jerk and an asshole towards ladies. Only seeing them as bedtoys. You can't really believe Lana the story about Chris ex girlfriend. He must have been totally in love with her and was totally heartbroken after she split because of someone new. Getting rid of your thoughts quickly, you answered "Uhm, yeah. Why not!"

He sat on the couch infront of the TV and raised his hand with a beer. You grabbed the bottle and cheered him. "Pats?" you mimicked to the TV and let yourself fall to the couch next to him. Surprised he looked over to you. "You watch football? Really?" "Ya, sometimes. But i'm more of a soccer girl." "I really underestimated you, Stacey!" Chris smiled towards you with a smile that could have turned you belly upside down if you weren't sober right now. "What does that mean, Evans? Didn't you think I am cool enough for you?" Chris chuckled, almost spilling his beer. "You know, you just don't look like a football fan." "Uh huh, how do I look then?" Does this conversation start to get playfull? You don't know what even couraged you to. Chris opened his mouth a few times just as if he wanted to start to talk but took a sip after the fourth time. "You know, you look more like a really serious young women. A good looking one but..." "Nah, I am the opposite of serious!" You raised from the couch to grab some more beer. "I don't know. Never experienced it!" Chris turned his head back to you with kind of a smirk on his face. On his extraordinary beautiful face. What was wrong with you? It's just the dork flatmate!! "Thank you, and thank you for your help. Really appreciate it. I think I really underestimated you too, Chris!" You head back to the couch, handing him his beer.

***

Soon,after a few more beer you fell asleep in total exhaustion on the couch. As your body slid deeper into the couch, your head dropped on Chris shoulder. The sweet humming of you totally pulled him out of watching the game. He was used to the touch women, used to beautiful women. But your head on his shoulder, you body touching his body and filled his left side with a comfortable warmth made him breath faster than he wanted to. He didn't want to wake you up so he tried to only shift a little bit to let you drop down into an comfortable posture. You now totally cuddled up against his chest while his arm was holding your side. You looked sweet and innocent but he'll he knew you was a brave women with a lot of self esteem. Your strawberry blonde curly shoulder long hair nearly fallen into your face. He couldn't help but tug it away behind your ears. He wondered what was it, that made him ignore a Pats game and stare at you until the sound of the keys turning made him wake up of his thoughts.

***

Marc stared at you and Chris slightly irritated. "Dude, you already laid out new flatmate?" he whispered towards Chris. "Shhh, she just fell asleep on the couch while we watched the game. I didn't even touched her once. So shut up!" In disbelief Marc raised his eyebrow. "Yeah, this would be the first time you didn't touch a hot girl who's lying on your lap. Remember our flatmate code, bro. Leave your fingers off of her."

You woke up by the two guys talking to each other and surprisingly they talked about you. You decided to let your eyes shut to hear whats it about. "You know I can listen to you, do ya?" You sit up back again straight. Glaring Chris an excusing face. "Sorry!" you padded his shoulder "No, it's ok" she almost whispered while waving your excuse off. "Well Marc, thanks for the compliment. Hot, Huh? What's the flatmate code exactly about?" you turned your head between Marc and Chris. "Oh, it's nothing..." Chris answered quickly, interrupted by Marc. "Rule number one. Which is the only rule to be honest. Bring home whoever you want and fuck whoever you want but don't fuck one of your flatmates."

***

The first night in your new flat gifted you with great sleep and your couldn't be happier about it. Still in your Victoria's Secret PJ with a tiny short, your hair up in a messy bun you walked into the kitchen where Chris was already sitting witch cornflakes Infront of him. "Morning!" you stretched you muscles again while groaning into your hand. Your top slid up a bit and let free a small spot of your waist. You caught Chris not only staring at your but but also staring at your skin now. "Like what you see?" He almost choked on his cornflakes which made you laugh out. Slipping into your chair at the table while preparing your sandwich, you've got interrupted by a heavy knocking on your flat door. Chris stood up to open it "Linda?" "Oh Hi Chris, uhm, I thought you've already left for work. Uhm!" "Well, i did Not!" he raised his arms as much as he raised his voice. "Uhm, I just wanted to leave that for Marc. He just forgot it at the bar yesterday, where I saw him." That utterly hot blond chic handed him something what looked like Marc's phone. You could swear she was a model or something. "oh, I didn't knew he saw you" You observed the scene from your dining table. "Yeah, he was on a date there." That unbelievably pretty blonde women smiled at Chris. "Well, I will go now." Just as she turned around Chris asked "How are you doing Linda?" "Fine I am fine. Look, I am in a hurry. See you!"

Just as she left, Chris closed the door and let himself lean against it. He let out a loud sigh while running his hands through his face. "Okay, what was that telenovela about?" you asked him in disbelief. "That, that was my ex." You could barely hear his answer but you can see that something in his behaviour changed. He was truly upset. And for the first time knowing him, you felt something different than annoyance towards Chris.

You felt really sorry for him.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

hey hey hey I have had a hell of a day (Actually Hell) because I did too many fun things (a problem apparently) and then also we put up the christmas tree leading to the inevitable christmas tree installation arguments (they pop up every year like clockwork!)

anyway i have been overstimulated and stressed (just want to emphasize that there is NO pressure here whatsoever! id like to avoid any semblance of that actually and I know you're already working on 12 days so take your time) and it would be very cathartic to see chris dealing with similar issues (the Wonderful guy. we are pretty similar.) thanks a lot for reading this, even if you don't write anything !

Sorry this took so long, Anon! I swear I've been trying to get this written for literally almost two months now

CW: Some references to Chris's past, overstimulation, anxiety

"Hey, where did Chris go?" Laken blinks and looks around, but the living room of the house they rent - filled with laughing, happy people - shows no sign of Chris's telltale lavender hair with its new-penny copper roots.

One of Brit's friends just shrugs at them and gestures, vaguely, in the direction of the kitchen. "Dunno. He wandered off a while ago, maybe that way?"

"Oh, okay. Huh." Laken steps back, the circle of laughing people closing up tight as soon as they do. Their dark eyes scan the room, but there's no sign of him.

He'd been doing great - all but holding court, one of the most popular people at the party. He's sort of famous, since the Olympics, and people had been peppering him with questions and compliments, crowding around wanting nothing more than to be friends with the ex-pet who stood up to the bad guys on live TV. They'd seen him dancing, too, the music loud enough to nearly make the walls shake. The easy, unselfconscious dancing they loved in him the most.

He'd seemed to be enjoying himself, at the time, but...

Where has he gone?

They weave around people, stopping to pick up an ornament that has fallen off the tree. The scent of pine is subtle and ever-present, and they carefully work the ornament's little loop back over a branch, ruefully watching a couple of pine needles come loose and drift down. The damn thing is already starting to turn a little brown around its edges, thanks to Laken's roommate having insisted on buying it literally the day before Thanksgiving.

Laken doesn't even celebrate Christmas, not since they stopped going to Mass on Christmas Eve years and years ago. Still, in a house they rent with three others, they're the only one who doesn't at least pay lip service to the holiday.

And even if they don't give a fuck about Christmas, they do like having an excuse to throw a party.

The tinsel wrapped in spirals around, over, and below the ornaments glitters in the light, and the look makes them think of Chris, and how his eyes have always looked just the same, to them, when they're out at night and the moon hits the green of his irises just right.

Their search leads them to Ben, contentedly sitting on the couch, a drink in one hand and his phone in the other, quietly reading something there while the party is in full swing around him. He glances up and then instinctively, immediately, uses a finger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Hey, Laken. What's up?"

"Is Akio not coming tonight?"

"Oh... no." Ben blushes - it's adorable, and Laken can't help the smile playing around their lips. "He's got some kind of meeting with the gymnastics team, or his coaches? Or... something like that. He said sorry, though."

"Nah, no problem. But, hey, so. Uh, have you seen Chris, like within the last ten minutes or so??"

Someone puts Christmas music on and Laken shudders as they hear that damn 80s pop song start up again. If they have to hear that fucking song one more time...

"Nope. Not in a while." Ben shrugs, taking a drink. Whatever he has in that cup is pinkish-red and probably far more alcoholic than it tastes. Laken's roommate had insisted on a signature cocktail. "You could check outside? Sometimes when there's a lot of people, to Chris it's... too much."

Laken nods, still scanning the crowd, but their stomach knots a little with the first hit of real anxiety. Ben is right, Chris can get overwhelmed by too much noise and movement, but also he's been drinking tonight - they saw the same red punch in a cup in his hands earlier - and he has a tendency to get... hazy, when he drinks. Flirty in ways that aren't natural to him. Willing to let people hug him that he doesn't like, unable to bring himself to stop them. Sometimes his stammer smooths out, which makes people who don't know him feel more comfortable and people who do know him nervous. He starts tipping his head to the side in a way that makes the sweep of his growing-out hair hide the scar on his forehead, biting his lower lip when he smiles. It makes Laken feel a little sick to see it happen and realize Chris doesn't even notice when he's doing it.

The last thing they need is to have to come up with an explanation for Chris losing track of himself again, or why he's eating olives off the charcuterie board Brit brought knowing damn well he'll just go to the bathroom and get sick all over the place again, or... fuck, what if somebody hits on him and he's too drunk to stop it?

That hasn't happened since college, but...

They pull their phone out, uneasily checking for a text, but there's nothing. If he went outside, he'd text, right? He does, he always does. Texts can be easier and Chris is always a little nervous about being outside alone.

He insisted on coming tonight, said he was feeling good lately, but-... what if-...

They flinch when fingers touch their arm, only to see Ben must have stood up when they weren't looking. He slips his own phone into his jacket pocket and looks Laken over more closely. "Hey. It's okay, he's probably fine. You know he gets weird when parties are really going. It's like a light switch, enough to too much, I totally get it. It's why I'm on the couch fucking around on Kindle instead of, you know... talking to people." Ben says it like talking to people is literal hell, and... okay, Laken can see how that might be the case. "He probably just needed to get away from it and wandered off."

"Uh, yeah. I know." Laken rubs at the back of their neck, fingers moving through the soft, shorn undercut beneath their longer black waves. "I'm sure that's it. Just... you know, sometimes he... when he gets nervous..."

"I got you." They adore Ben, sometimes, for how often they don't have to finish the sentences they don't want to say. He knows what words haven't yet spilled, unwilling. Sometimes he acts like he belongs to us, not like he loves us. Sometimes I can't trust him to find his way back on his own. Sometimes I feel like Jake, and I hate feeling like Jake.

Words die in their throat.

Ben squeezes their arm, gently. "Let's split up and search around. I'll go outside, you go around the house, okay? We verify how he is, then whichever one finds him tells the other. Sound good?" Ben smiles, and Laken relaxes a little, finding a smile for him in return.

"Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Ben."

"No problem." Ben has always understood Chris, thanks to his little brother being similar in some ways. He understands Laken's worry, too, because better than anyone else here - he knows how Chris sometimes gets lost in his past, especially if he's drinking, worse the maybe twice Laken's ever seen him try an edible or a pill.

What if he got drunk and someone offered him something and he took it? Drunk Chris sometimes isn't a Chris who can easily turn down anything he's offered.

This party was a stupid idea.

Laken takes a deep breath and squares their shoulders.

Chris is not a child.

He is a goddamn grown man and Laken is not his keeper. They're not his parent and they're not a babysitter. They're definitely not his fucking... owner or whatever the bastards that hurt him would have called it. They're his partner. He can handle himself, better than they could if they'd lived his life, and they need to trust him to either know his limits and to get away if he can't say no, or to come to them if he wants to ask for help. Otherwise, they're not any better than the bullshit he's been buried in for longer than he's known them.

Ben goes to check outside, slipping silently out the sliding door onto the back porch where a small crowd has congregated in a cloud of skunky smoke, while Laken heads upstairs, peeking their head in to room after room with no sign of him anywhere. They see some movement under a pile of coats, but that's... definitely not Chris, based on the very female voices who yell at them to give them some fucking privacy, please.

"Sorry, Brit," Laken calls, closing the door tightly. "And, um, Leigh. Just looking for Chris-"

"Well, he isn't in here or we'd have kicked him out already," Brit says, cranky but without any real anger in her voice. Laken doesn't recognize the redhead whose eyes pop up from beneath the pile of coats next to her. "Check a different room."

"Yeah, I will. Uh... keep having fun, I guess-"

"That's the plan! Now leave, please!"

The door latches as they close it, and they exhale. There's one room left, at the end of the hall, and they can hear a familiar murmuring from behind the door when they press their ear up against it.

Laken knocks, rapping gently with their knuckles, and turns the knob when they hear no answer - but no demand to stay out either. The murmuring goes silent. They sigh, and the door swings open, light cutting across the carpet until it reveals their wayward boyfriend.

No one has claimed this bedroom yet, so it's bare and empty except for a couple unpacked cardboard boxes, Brit's exercise bike by the window, a couple of her yoga mats, a laundry basket with a few folded towels, and a bare mattress the last housemate had left behind on the floor when they moved out.

Laken's lips press together, eyes scanning the room. Chris's phone is on the mattress, along with an empty beer bottle, but Chris isn't. "Chris? Cariño?"

A muffled rustling makes them jump, heart in their throat, and then they realize the sound came from the closet, where the folding doors are closed. Laken pulls them open to reveal Chris curled up, knees nearly to his chin, an open bottle clutched in one hand, his chewy necklace in the other. He'd chosen the bat one tonight, and his hand is closed around it in such a tight fist Laken can tell his knuckles are white even in the dark.

Chris doesn't look at them. He's swaying, rocking forward and back, his eyes focused on something far, far away from them. There's red lines on his left wrist, where he's dug his nails in, scratching not quite deep enough to draw blood, but close. Laken takes a deep breath, shifting into a crouch.

"Talk to me, Chris."

"No." The answer is flat, and they watch his thumb rub over the little nub of the silicone bat's nose, the points of its tiny ears. "No, no, no. No."

At least he's saying it out loud.

That alone makes the knot of anxiety in their chest start to loosen. If he can say no, he isn't gone, maybe just... standing a little farther back, inside his own head, than the surface.

"Okay. Okay, that's fine. No talking, that's fine. Are you okay, baby?" Laken keeps their voice just above a whisper and lays their hand on the wood trim that frames this shitty excuse for a closet, the floor creaking under them. "You... kind of vanished on me, there."

Chris's eyes flick to them and then away again. "Loud," He manages, and he sounds like he's forcing the word out between gritted teeth. Maybe he is. "Too, too, too... too loud. Too much, too... many."

"I guess Ben called it." Laken sighs, pulling out their phone and sending Ben a quick text that they found Chris and everything's fine. they get a thumbs-up in reply almost immediately. Ben must have been as anxious as they are, if he was just watching for their text to come in. "Do you want me to call Jake to come get you, or..."

"No!" He snaps it, and Laken tries not to wince. He's just struggling with the noise of the party, they tell themself, he's not actually angry. Chris almost never gets angry, and even then it's only at himself. Which... is worse, somehow. "No. Just... Quiet, it's... it's it's quiet."

"Right. Do you want me to stay with you? Be quiet with you?"

He shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything else. His mouth moves, but no further sounds come out.

"Chris, did..." They want to ask, did someone say something to you? Sometimes people said things, referenced pets or something in a way that set him off. But even if someone had... he probably wouldn't tell them, at least not now, not when every word seemed to have to filter through layer after layer of self-protection in his mind. "Never mind. Is there anything I can do for you? Water, or..."

He shakes his head. "No. Just. Um. Quiet... quiet, now. Please?"

"Yeah." Laken leans over and presses a kiss to his hair. He tips his head against their lips and they exhale in relief. "I love you, Chris. Come back if you can, but if you can't, that's okay, too. Just don't hurt yourself, okay? Things should start winding down in a couple hours." They take the little plastic bat and push it against the hand that's still scratching at his shoulder, until he takes hold of it again, pressing it against his mouth and running it back and forth, back and forth.

Chris is quiet, but as they open the door to head back into the hallway, they hear a quiet, "Love, love you," from Chris, barely audible.

They smile as they close the door. Down the hall, the sounds of the party hit them like a brick, beckoning them back to the noise and the cheer and the awful fucking Christmas music still blaring at top volume. Someone yells something out and the whole damn crowd cheers, making Laken wince at it feels nearly deafening.

Maybe Chris has the right idea.

-

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[newandfiguringitout]

@ashintheairlikesnow maybe the tag above didn't work but I just wanted to be sure you got this, super glad you took yesterday off!

Mood-Board for Chris

This is a present for @ashintheairlikesnow for successfully taking a well deserved break from writing!! So proud of you Ash and glad you are taking time for yourself!

[retvenkos]

no because,, i know you must be exhausted of all of these asks, but i dropped my homework for like 20 minutes to make these mini playlists for u & pitts, clara & charlie, linds & neil, & us girlies as a group :) (sadly, i don't know noe enough to make one for her & chris. but! i will make an effort to do so <3)

group

- prom queen, molly kate kestner

- new romantics, taylor swift

- runaway, AURORA

- soldier, poet, king, oh the hellos

- twin sized mattress, the front bottoms

- cinnamon girl, lana del rey

- we fell in love in october, girl in red

- washing machine heart, mitski

- armor, sara bareilles

pitts & olive

- pleaser, wallows

- blackbird, the beatles

- cowboy like me, taylor swift

- better together, jack johnson

- lady by the sea, stephen sanchez

- bookstore girl, charlie burg

- like real people do, hozier

- ho hey, the lumineers

- apple pie, lizzy mcalpine

clara & charlie

- classic, mkto

- true love, p!nk

- gold rush, taylor swift

- make you mine, PUBLIC

- R U mine?, artic monkeys

- romeo & juliet, peter mcpoland

- electric love, borns

- can't take my eyes off you, frank valli

- ophelia, the lumineers

neil & lindsay

- fearless, taylor swift

- ribs, lorde

- something, the beatles

- darling, christian leave

- the lakes, taylor swift

- fine line, harry styles

- turtleneck love boy, spilt milk society

- two, sleeping at last

- strawberries & cigarettes, troye sivan

bonus: meeks & i, because i'm pretentious

- jackie and wilson, hozier

- i wanna be yours, artic monkeys

- honey, the coastal club

- eloise, peter mcpoland

- kiss her you fool, the kids that fly

- i think he knows, taylor swift

- sofia, clairo

- pancakes for dinner, lizzy mcalpine

- strawberry blond, mitski

when i saw this i freaked out,,,,,,, first of all, your asks never fail to bring a smile to my face (even if i respond late, which seems to be my default) , and second, giving people playlists is a love language™ and to have some tailored for our group????? brb, i have to go cry in a corner (and add all of these songs to a spotify playlist sTAT).

this is too sweet!!!!! and okay! here are some thoughts i have - vague ones that are kind of vibes only.

also, disclaimer that i'm pretty musically illiterate. my music knowledge stops at like,,,, 2015. if even that.

so pitts and meeks give me big hozier vibes. idk why exactly, but i feel like they'd both jam out to hozier. (the fact that you included hozier on our respective playlists shows me i'm right, lol.)

then! i've only listened to a little bit of conan gray, but his vibes really remind me of todd, and just a little bit of lindsay? like, lindsay could get into one or two songs of his if she were yearning at the moment, and todd can just,,,,, always get down to it. todd is people watching, convince me otherwise.

and okay, we all know clara is my 5sos mutual, but i truly do get good girls vibes from her and charlie's relationship. (there's even a line about her speaking french, asdfghjjhgfd)

and perhaps this is because i feel like your my taylor swift mutual, but i also get big taylor swift vibes from you and meeks. but like, indie pop or country taylor. i haven't listened to all of evermore, but those are the vibes.

and as for noe and chris, i feel like a song that fits with them could be i want to be with you by chloe moriondo. i don't actually know anything about the artist, but this song came up on my spotify, and it does scream them.

and lol, i only know like 3 songs by ricky montgomery, but i get those vibes for neil.

(also, i just get big ordinary days vibes from lindsay and neil, and i'm honestly not sure what it is exactly - is it the song beautiful, and the whole "for beautiful to happen, the beautiful has got to be seen" message? idk, but the association is there.)