#and drink my coffee BY MYSELF and go to the bathroom without Anyone chewing on my earbuds

[small-strong-bookish-butch]

Trying very very hard to remember that my cat (baby) (1 year old) (kitten) (chaotic) needs to run and play and he’s not trying to kill my other cat (9 year old) (perfect princess) (who purrs and cuddles) by pouncing on her repeatedly when she hisses at him and then he immediately does it again

[janiedean]

crack prompt inspired by all the tvd talk on your blog: damon, jaime, tony stark all walk into a bar alone and end up drunk oversharing ~~

(if you wanna include ships in it anything with delena/dalaric/bamon; brienne; pepper/bruce/strange/rhodey is okay lmfao so pretty much anything goes, i just want them being each other's therapist because the timeline collapsed for some time and their universes interacted somehow lmfao)

*spins the wheel* AAAND hello anon we can absolutely try that u__u

ten years on tumblr anniversary prompt post | buy me a coffee | commissions open

Well, now I really did bite off more than I could chew, Tony thinks as he shakes his head and hopes that he and Bruce didn't fuck up the entire fabric of reality.

Well.

He's not in New York and he wasn't in the span of five seconds since they got the machine turned on, but - but well. Bruce isn't here, so hopefully he'll figure out where the fuck he ended up. Maybe we should have been sober when trying to work out that whole different timelines and multiverses thing.

Now, damage control. He should probably try to not go anywhere, but in case he actually just... teleported somewhere, maybe he should just ask where he is. He glances at his back. He's in front of a bar named Mystic Grill, which... okay, shitty name, but he could be anywhere in fuck-all-middle-of-nowhere Idaho for all he knows. He takes out his cellphone, and there is zero reception.

Bad news.

He sees a blonde kid with a police badge coming up the road, so he clears his throat and stops him.

"Uh, officer?"

"Hello," the kid says, "I don't remember seeing you around here."

Yeah, because I'm not from this world, most likely. "Eh," Tony lies, "I was driving my car but it broke down outside town and the way I got in, there wasn't a sign. Would you mind telling me where exactly I ended up?"

"Mystic Falls," the guy says, "I didn't know the damned State of Virginia now took us off the maps, too." That was sarcastic, Tony can hear it, but.

He's sure that there is no such place where he comes from.

"Right," Tony says, "I'll, uh, be out to find a mechanic then."

The kid gives him instructions to reach one, Tony thanks him and lets him go. Well, he can't certainly go anywhere now, but at least it seems like they fucked up just his -

"What the fuck," he hears from his left side -

Just in time to see a blonde guy wearing a white armor and a white cloak fall through a portal just the same as his own, that disappears a moment later. The blonde guy has green eyes, Tony notices, is lacking a right hand because he has a rather heavy golden prothesis on it that looks tacky also for his own tastes and looks completely out of his depth as he moves to his feet.

"Uh," Tony says, "I imagine you aren't from... here."

"Certainly not," the guy says, sounding... near hysterical, as he takes the surroundings. "What - what are those things anyway?" Cars. Oh fuck, he's looking at cars. "How are you dressed? What - what are these houses?"

"Er," Tony says, "humor me a moment. What's your name and where do you come from?"

The guy rolls his eyes. "Jaime Lannister, and I come from Westeros, thank you very much, now where the hell am I?"

... Great, Tony thinks, now it's not even someplace where the USA exist. "Er," Tony says, "in another world. Listen, it's my fault, I, uh, sort of caused it, and my colleague will most likely fix it, but it's really better we don't go anywhere so he can locate us more easily. Tell you what, can I buy you a drink while we wait?"

"Another world?" The guy blurts, and then - then he stares at Tony, then at his surroundings, then rolls his eyes again.

"You know what," he says, "I've had a shit long day. What can this be on top of fucking undead Catelyn Stark? Buy me the fucking drink."

I'm not doing drunk science anymore, Tony vows to himself as they walk inside the place, and he really hopes he can spin some story as to why the guy with him is wearing bonafide armor -

"And who the fuck are the two of you now?"

So: Tony had not taken into account that there would be just one person in the bar and that this person would be of course not human because no one human could pin the two of them to the wall in a split second and hold them there with such strength, and that's how he finds out that pretty guy with blue eyes, dark hair, pale skin and homicidal face is a damned vampire.

Except that the moment Tony explains it - Jaime or whoever he is is just keeping his mouth shut, wisely - the guy stares at them, and then more, and then -

"With everything I've seen in the last years," he says, "honestly, that's not even the most fucking stupid. So, you just want to lounge around until your friend shows up to fix whatever the fuck you did?"

"Er, yes?"

"Whatever. I'm Damon. I can cover your drinks and compel the bartender to forget your face. I sorely fucking need some myself."

He lets them go, but then - "Get that armor off," he tells Jaime, "this isn't New York City."

"I can't just leave my armor around!"

"Just leave it in the bathroom and take it back later," Damon shrugs, and then nods towards what's most likely the bathroom.

Jaime shrugs and goes, muttering something about maybe having drank too much milk of the poppy, and Tony doesn't want to know whatever the hell that is.

--

"Listen," Jaime says later, wearing an attire that's still obviously Middle-Ages-like but at least doesn't stand out too much, sipping at the bourbon Damon shoved at them, "I'm choosing to think I'm making this all up, but if I'm not, how long will it be before I can go back where I come from? Because you dragged me away from a rather fucking delicate situation."

"No idea," Tony shrugs, "but he's good at his job. And he was less drunk than me. We might get you back at the point you left."

"And what would that delicate situation be?" Damon asks. "Entertain me."

"And why should I tell you?"

"First, I bought you that alcohol and you're definitely enjoying it. Second, this is my town and I could tear your throat open if I wanted to." Fuck. He just showed fangs at the both of them. What the fuck. "Also, my murderous former girlfriend who is the cause of all my problems just finally fucked off this planet for good after possessing my current girlfriend who looks like her but really is the whole contrary and my best friend just came back to life after being dead for a whole lot of time and it's a complicated situation and I need a distraction or ten."

"That... sounds like something," Tony mutters, sipping at his alcohol. It's good, at least.

"Believe me, it is. So, what's the poison from Middle Ages here?"

"Ah, fuck that," Jaime says, takes a drink, and starts talking.

--

Half an hour later, Tony thinks that he and Damon are equally staring at the guy with the same disbelieving face.

"... Was that the undead woman that got you like this?" Jaime asks, blinking. "Considering that he seems like he's some kind of living dead, that's a tad hypocritical."

"No," Damon says, "that's the least of my problems. How haven't you frenched this Brienne person already?"

"I frenched?"

"Dude, he's from the Middle Ages," Tony takes pity on him. "He means put your tongue in her mouth."

"I - what - she's not - I'm not -"

"Listen," Damon cuts him, "I've been there. I mean, thinking I couldn't live without an arse who didn't give a fuck about me, which you admitted. But you do realize you spent at least five minutes of your charming tale describing us exactly how this Brienne of yours is ripped and has pretty eyes and was about to die for you?"

"Yeah, uh," Tony says, "let it come from someone who had the right people in front of him for ages and didn't let himself go for it, you really don't wanna drag it any longer."

"That's - she's a knight, that's not -"

"Oh, sure, all knights are shit where you come from, you said that, but suddenly someone would rather hang than kill you and you're here jittering because you got sucked here while she's dealing with a zombie that wanted you dead but I have to think you don't wanna french her?" Damon rolls his eyes again, pours himself another drink and honestly, Tony has cut down on the alcohol lately but he's gonna just make a damned exception. "Please."

"He's right," Tony says, "and also, let it come from someone whose dad was loaded on money and fairly shitty and still way better than yours, whatever he said about you is wrong."

"How do you know -" Jaime starts, half-blanching.

"Told you," Tony shrugs, "loaded on money, shitty father, at least I missed out on the shit sister. Honestly, man, just fucking drop her like hot coal and follow your gut. And let it come from someone who's fucked around a lot to get distracted, if you wanted to bone her in that bath then you're into her."

"I -" Jaime goes red in the face, finishes the drink, "it's not like it ever happened with anyone else before, it was a mistake, most likely -"

Damon gives him a look that looks halfway worried.

Tony thinks he just matched it, except even more worried.

"My vampire friend," he says, "are you thinking what I am thinking?"

"I'm afraid so," Damon says, and then looks back at Jaime. "Newsflash," he goes on, "if you get hard looking at a naked woman most likely you find her attractive. Also, you can find more than one person attractive in your life. And let it come from someone who's been there in the sense that I thought I could only love fucking Katherine, you really don't want to keep on doing it."

"I didn't say I wasn't done with Cersei," Jaime replies, somewhat weakly.

"Good," the two of them reply at the same time, and Tony has to snort.

"Look at that," he says, "for once I'm the one with the healthiest relationship history sitting at a table. Who'd have thought?"

"Fuck this," Damon says, "I'm getting more bourbon."

"Please," Jaime says, and - well. Seems like when Bruce comes to collect him, Tony won't be sober.

--

"Wait," Jaime says, "wait, wait, wait, she possessed your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, well, as if," Damon shrugs, "honestly, sometimes I think I should have just run away to New York after deserting."

"You deserted what?" Tony asks.

"The fucking confederacy," Damon shrugs. "Well, what are you staring about? I'm a vampire, I've been around ages, I'm from fucking middleofnowhere Virginia, you think I got drafted with the unionists? But I disagreed and I hated it and I never wanted to go, so I fucking deserted. I hope you aren't here judging me, or -"

"Please, I used to build weapons for the army and stopped when I realized it wasn't what I wanted to be, and honestly, that just means you have a conscience, so -"

"Wait, you did what," Jaime says.

"Deserted. An army. Back in the day. Risked my neck for it, and I came back and met Katherine and honestly I should have just gone North, but -"

"Hm," Jaime says, drinking, and then - "you don't regret it?"

"No," Damon says at once, "best decision I ever took. Why, you want to do that, too?"

"Sure he wants to," Tony says when Jaime doesn't immediately reply. "Let me guess, not just your army. You want to desert the whole shebang, don't you?"

"I don't know what a fucking shebang is, but yes. So what?"

"Well, if you want my been there done that advice, do that," Damon shrugs. "From what it sounds like, your entire world is collapsing because of zombies anyway, what do you have to lose? Your sister? You're better fucking off without."

Jaime stares down at the glass, then knocks it down. "Can I have another?"

"Sure," Damon says, and generously tips it.

--

"So what," Tony says, "now that your best friend you had a thing with while your girlfriend was with your brother is back to life you're having trouble adjusting?"

"She also hadn't been possessed by my murderous ex until then," Damon shrugs.

Jaime just looks at them, then drinks some more. "Who am I to judge on that anyway," he says, "but that sounds like a lot of work."

"You wouldn't believe," Damon shrugs, knocking down some more of his bourbon. "Never mind that Stefan won't get over brooding instead of fessing up to the girl he is in love with now, but it's not like I hadn't expected it."

"Tell him to," Jaime says at once. "I let my father fuck things up for my brother once and I hate that I ever did, just - don't."

"This is getting fucking eerie," Damon says.

Tony, who is currently feeling very thankful he doesn't have siblings, takes another sip. Then -

"Man, if it's complicated just date the both of them. If they both like you and aren't the kind of super monogamous people that can't handle a threesome once in a while, they won't have a problem."

"... And what do you know?"

He shrug. "Well," he says, "my steady girlfriend was in front of my eyes for years. Took us a while to get over ourselves. The guy I was doing drunk science with, well. Was an instant hit and I didn't let myself drag it in the centuries and guess what, we have a nice lovely arrangement where I'm with both of them, they commiserate about how much of an idiot I can be and sometimes we all occasionally have sex. It's grand. You should try it."

And I really hope Bruce shows up soon.

"Huh," Damon says, "maybe it has merit. For me. Not for you."

Jaime sputters. "I said nothing!"

"You shouldn't even think about threesomes. I can see it in your face you're not the type. And certainly not including your sister."

"Fuck you," Jaime replies without meaning it, "I was not considering that." Huh. Now he sounds offended Damon implied it. Maybe he really will fess up to the other one when he's back.

"Then it means this enlightening talk has enlightened you," Tony grins. "Mind telling us more about that hand?"

"And why?"

Tony shrugs. It's not like he doesn't have time to waste. "What if I could help you with that thing?" He says, nodding towards Jaime's stump, and then - well. Time to test if he can summon the armor here, too.

--

"God," Damon says a while later, "I'll have to compel that poor bartender so hard, but fuck this is something."

Sure it is, Tony grins. "Hey, I managed to fuck with quantum reality, I'm not the first idiot that passes by."

"Seven Hells," Jaime says, "I have no idea what it is you're putting on me but if it works half as well as that thing you have, I'm going to show back up in King's Landing just to show my sister who has the useless hand now. If she didn't get herself killed."

"Well, now that is one reason I could approve of," Tony laughs, "and don't fucking move."

Sure, building a prothesis from the rests of whatever nonfunctioning electronics the bartender had lying around is... somewhat a challenge, but as stated, he has time to waste and it's not like he's wanted anywhere soon.

"By the way," Damon says as he watches him tinker around with the toolkit he found him in the backroom, "do you need advice in the whole I fucked up and want my brother to forgive me department?"

"What if I do?" Jaime replies through his teeth. "Because now that would distract me from how much this entire thing is fucking hurting."

The more they talk while he tinkers, the more Tony decides he's absolutely glad he was an only child and that his father only fucked one son up.

--

"You're doing this while not even being fucking sober?" Damon knocks back more bourbon. "You sure you don't wanna stay here and turn into an immortal? You'd be useful."

"Thanks but I like my life as it is," Tony snorts. "But if you need tech tinkered with, you can ask while I'm here."

Jaime is just staring at the steel-colored hand coming to life while Tony puts piece after piece together, his throat working up and down.

He drinks some more. "Fuck, if only I had such a thing when I realized what the fuck Aerys had turned into."

"Wait, who's Aerys now?" Damon asks.

--

He hadn't told them that part in detail.

When he's done and Tony is at the fourth finger, he kind of wants to hurl, but mostly -

"Do we really have to stay here," Damon says, "or you think we could sneak him to a VA? I can compel them to just hear that he's talking about Vietnam or something."

"He's not old enough for Vietnam, but you know what, I think we could risk that."

"What in the Seven Hells is a VA?"

"Someone I really could have used in the nineteenth century," Damon sighs, and then just as Tony moves to the last finger -

"Tony, what the hell is this?"

--

Turns out, where Bruce comes from it took him two days to figure this out. He also immediately spots three different improvements Tony could do to that hand, and when he hears the entire shebang he raises his hands and says that he can send Jaime right back when he left at any point and he and Tony, too, but he supposes that if they want to compel the VA before they leave it's not like he's in a hurry, and wait, vampires?

Damon ends up asking him if the threesome thing is really working out as well as Tony says.

While he does, Tony manages the finishing touches on the sort-of-steel-and-iron-hand he cobbled up together, and thank fuck Bruce showed up because he had been the one studying how Barnes's arm worked, back in the day, and gave Tony the pointer he needed to make sure the entire thing was... well, connected to the nervous system without needing to rip Jaime's wrist open.

"Right," he says, "try to move the fingers."

Jaime holds them in a fist.

It works.

"Seven fucking hells -"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a genius. Just keep it out of too many lines of fire, but if you're from the middle ages it should withstand most stuff. You're welcome. And go french that knight of yours instead of waiting, really."

"I think in between him and you, you've made a case. Uh, thank you, I -"

"Nonsense, I was the reason you're here, I might as well have helped out. Hey," he says, "so, what about a last round before we drag him to the VA and Bruce here settles everything?"

"I'm so down for it," Damon says.

"Do I even have a choice," Bruce groans, but then he does sit down at the same table and lets Tony fill his glass.

"Oh, don't look like that," Tony says, "after all I didn't destroy the universe and made some friends, it could have gone worse."

"Wouldn't know about that, but I could have done worse, too," Damon says, and orders more bourbon.

"I sure as the fucking Seven Hells will never manage to explain this to anyone," Jaime says, "but I guess I'm not too disappointed, either."

"Tony," Bruce groans, "did you manage to somehow end up with two people with - never mind. Of course you did. We're never doing drunk science again, hear me?"

"Maybe so," Tony agrees, though... well.

Maybe he will want to check on them, once in a while.

But he can think about how to convince Bruce to make sure they can later.

For now, he'll enjoy his last round.

[silvercrystalwhump]

Little thing based on an idea for Ash

@ashintheairlikesnow owns all of these characters I just an idea one day and decided- Hey I'ma write this. Enjoy

TW: implied noncon, noncon photo taking, general bbu warning, Owen Grant exists

-

Vincent drums his fingers across the wood with nails bitten to near bleeding. A hard drive sits on the table in front of him, almost eating at his eyes by simply existing. It’s red, and the word Memories is written on the side. His eyes bore into the table, wanting the hard drive to combust and leave his life.

“You know I could always see what's on there?”

James, the only person other than his therapist to know about Owen, leans by an open window. The sound of Blue Jays singing outside dances through his words like background music on set. The only reason he had the displeasure of knowing about that migraine-inducing part of his life was that Vincent forgot to watch his liquor intake at an event and vomited out his entire life story to James in one night. Needless to say, he woke up the next morning with a hangover that could kill god and a very concerned James who knew too much.

Vincent shakes his head, “I am fairly certain I know what's on this, I don’t want you seeing that.”

James doesn’t respond, “I have an incinerator at home. You can just get rid of it there.”

“If it’s not I’ll be destroying something I actually like.”

Vincent did not even know why he had him come over. After he saw the handwriting he just went on autopilot. “Could you drive down about five minutes down, there’s this small coffee place that makes pecan pie flavored coffee, can you go get me some?”

“Sure,” James says, “Do you want me to go so you can do this alone and I can come back later or?”

“No, I just need you out of the house for maybe 15 minutes, it’s not like you probably have already figured out what I think is on this hard drive.”

James shrugs, “You want something to eat too?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Vincent hears James’ keys jungle quietly and the door opens. He can hear his footsteps walk down his porch. As he listens to James’ car start, Vincent puts his head in his hands. His finger knit into his hair and closes, threatening to rip the follicles right from his skull. I really don’t want to see this. He exhales as he hears the car pull out of the driveway and his gate slide closed.

Inhale, he closes his eyes and fumbles the hard drive into the laptop. Then, exhaling, he opens his eyes.

USP Pot In-Use. Transfer 486 GB of data onto this device?

Half a terabyte of data just sitting on a hard drive. A hard drive that was in the button of one of Vincent’s bags for months. Vincent starts to chew on the inside of his cheek, hands trembling near the mouse pad.

Yes.

Not enough storage for transfer. Preview file?

Yes.

A handful of files transfer to his laptop. Some files were named with dates, some with pet names, some with actual event titles but all were photos. Vincent closes his eyes and opens one simply labeled Coffee. The actual photo itself is just him sitting in one of his old dressing rooms back when working with Owen. There is a blurry spot in the upper left-hand corner of the photo. This was definitely Owen’s phone. Owen’s phone always had a blurry spot in the upper left-hand corner no matter how much Owen wiped it off.

The photo looks like it was taken at an awkward angle. Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose and mutters, “So he stalked me long before the incident, I stopped working there months before it happened.” The other handful of photos are similar; pictures were taken without Vincent noticing, usually at work. The last one was in his own house, but it was during a party he remembered that he invited Owen to.

Then a video pops up only labeled with a date.

Vincent reaches up and mutes his computer, and slowly presses play on the video. It starts with Owen muttering something before sticking his phone up and peering through a window. The video is of Vincent sleeping, and it lasts for nearly 30 minutes before the phone is dislodged, and the video finishes.

The next set of photos and videos are dated during his time with Owen.

He gets through three before rushing to the bathroom to puke.

-

When James gets back, Vincent has seen enough. He was right. It was Owen’s hard drive, and somehow he got a hold of it. James hands Vincent the coffee and the bag.

“I’m not gonna lie, I kinda forgot what you said about food so I just got you a scone since I was listening to the radio talk about the new federal policy on box boys.”

Vincent took a sip of the coffee and raised an eyebrow at James, “Something changed?”

“The emancipation law, it was signed by the president a week ago and the changes went into effect today,” James says as he sips his own coffee, “If you own a box boy for over a year and they meet a handful of prerequisites you can emancipate them and give them legal citizenship.”

“I honestly thought it would get shot down.”

“Well since the senator that was so against it was voted out this election no one else has objected,” James says, and he pulls up his phone, “Well the owner has to be the one to sign them for emancipation. Senator Grant was her name wasn’t it?”

Vincent takes a bite out of the scone. He swallows both the scone and a thought.

“Does it say anything about private transfer?”

“I think you just have to have their papers. Why?”

Vincent looks down at his food, and an idea pops into his head, “What’s Senator Grant doing now since she’s not in office.”

James shrugs, “Let me see if anyone said anything?” He taps on his phone, the little buzzes echo around the room like flies to trash. James pauses, “I’m pretty sure she’s just at home preparing for the next election why?”

“I think I might need you to help me make a phone call.”

-

Weeks later, Vincent paces, listening to James talk on the phone in the other room. He could not physically hear Owen’s voice through the phone without falling apart.

“That’s my ear,” James says sarcastically, “Do you agree with this or not?”

Silence.

Click.

James knocks on the half-open door, “You alright Vincent?”

“Are you done?” Vincent asks, tighter than a spring.

James nods, “After the screaming he agreed, do you want me to go over with the papers so you don’t have to see them?”

“Please, I’m more than likely already going to have to be on a phone call with his Mother and that's stressful enough.”

Vincent opens the door of his study and steps out, “I need a drink.”

“It's noon Vincent.”

Vincent has one hand on the liquor cabinet and chuckles dryly, “Perfect.”

‘Vincent, no.”

Making dead eye contact with James, he pulls a bottle of sweet tea vodka out of the cabinet and pours himself a glass. James sighs and shakes his head, “I thought Dr. Brycan told you not to drink.”

“He said that I need to wait until at least noon since I used to drink from dawn until dusk unless I had work, it’s 12:01.”

“Didn't you tell me that you’re probably going to get a phone call from the ex-Senator today,” James says, stepping back, “I think you want to wait at least until then so you're sober when you two talk.”

Vincent pauses with the glass halfway to his lips. He sets it down just hard enough to hear it but not hard enough to crack the crystal. Vincent grumbles, “Fine,” and walks back for his study to wait by the phone.

-

“You do know this is blackmail, Vincent,” Mrs. Grant grinds through the phone, “And that is illegal.”

“So is paying off someone to hide criminal charges. He either takes the deal or I take this half terabyte hard drive filled with evidence to court and get the press involved, his decision.”

“How much do you have to pay you,” she says after a moment.”

“No amount of cash will buy me over, he either takes the deal or I contact my manager.”

Silence through the phone. Vincent’s nails dig into his jeans. The woman on the other end of the line can’t see the tears pouring down Vincent’s face. One thing acting taught him was how to keep his voice steady for clarity in a microphone. The only difference here is that the microphone is in a phone rather than on a long stick.

“We’ll think about it,” she finally says.

“You have until Sunday.”

“Fine.”

Click.

Vincent holds the phone up to his ear for a second before dropping it onto the table. His head falls into his hands, and he sobs. His mind, blank yet filed with too many feelings, recoils under its own weight. Tears that had been held back for months spill across contract papers and blot through blank ink. The ink spread like blood across bed sheets.

-

“Are you sure you don’t want me to knock his teeth in?” James asks as he holds the contract and transfers forms in one hand and a Sprite in the other, “Because I will and want to.”

Vincent shakes his head, fingers drumming across the velvet seats of the limousine he almost forgot he had. When did I even buy this was the first thought he had when he dug through contacts. “No, just go inside, get him to fill out the forms, and come back. Then we go home and I gorge myself on M&Ms and fudge ice cream.”

James laughs, “Room numbers on the card right?”

“Yes.”

-

James steps out of the car. The condominium looms over the limousine, and James bites through white-knuckled rage as he steps into the lobby.

Guess who’s standing there waiting for him, Owen Grant, and his mother. James steps up to them, “Grant, correct?”

Owen looks surprised and gives James a quick not-so-subtle scan, “Are you who Vince sent, I thought he was coming?”

“Do I really need to explain why that will never happen?”

Mrs. Grant gives James a glare to rival the sun’s wrath on gingers. The demeanor shifts almost instantly to a more business appeal, “Well allow us to get this paperwork sorted out as painlessly as possible.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

How long does it take to sign papers? James thinks as he watches Owen go through the forms. These are pre-filled out records; he just needs to sign in three spots. Pen scratches against the paper, Owen’s friendly demeanor evaporated when he reached the final form.

“Why this of all things?” he grinds out.

Neither of the two people answers him. Owen finally tosses the form and an orange file in James’ direction. “All of Kauri’s paperwork; if Vince needs anything else, he’ll have to contact WRU directly.”

James scoops the papers off the table, flipping through them; he looks to make sure Owen didn’t deliberately miss any signatures. An extra envelope sits in the orange file. James pulls it free and waves it in Owen’s face.

“What’s this?”

Owen, stupidly, answers, “A goodbye letter since I just filled out a no contact agreement, I want to give my final goodbyes if you will.”

James rips open the envelope and takes out the letter but keeps in anything that may be important.

“That’s for Vincent’s eyes only!” Owen snaps.

“And that hard drive was for your eyes only wasn’t it? I got Vincent’s consent to look through these forms.”

Owen and his mother glare daggers at James as he tosses the letter back onto the table, “Goodbye.”

James can still feel Owen’s teeth grinding gaze on his back as the door closes behind him.

-

Jake answers the door, “Hello Vincent.”

“Is Kauri here?” Vincent asks as his fingers shift around the orange folder.

“Depends,” Jake says, leaning against the door frame, “What do you want?”

Vincent sighs, “I called Natalie yesterday and---”

“Just let him in,” Kauri’s voice echoes from inside the safe house, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jake pierces his lips and steps out of the way. Vincent steps past him and enters the safe house. Natalie had told him to make things as quick as possible, and if Kauri told him to leave, he would. Vincent agreed. Now he simply hoped that he would be able to get this across without being told to leave.

Kauri steps around the corner, a look of tired anger sits behind his eyes.

“Kauri I’m so---”

“Skip the bullshit, Nat said this would be quick.”

Vincent nods and forces the new wave of guilt back into his stomach, “A few days ago, I was able to… convince Owen to transfer ownership of you to me. I want to ask if I can transfer you to anyone else for your own security, so you are entirely out of Owen’s grabbing range.

Kauri stands there with an expression of absolute disbelief. Then, finally, he opens his mouth to speak before stammering, “I said quick but not one sentence, elaborate.”

“Well, to put it in simply I was going through some of my old stuff from during the incident. I found a hard drive with nearly half a terabyte of… evidence that could be used against Owen,” Vincent says as his shoulder tense at memories he wishes to be buried. “A friend of mine brought up the new box boy emancipation law and after that I got an idea. This friend, who I vomited out my entire life story to black out drunk, was willing to help be the liaison between Owen and me. After a telephone call between Mrs. Grant and I, we got the papers signed and so now I have all of your paperwork under my name.”

“Okay?” Kauri says with disbelief still in his tone in tiny blips, “Then why are you talking to me, just leave me alone and I won’t have to worry about Owen.”

Vincent chews at the inside of his cheek, “Here’s the thing, what I did is, in the eyes of the law, black mail. While he could be charged with the same thing, if he took me to court one of the first assets taken for compensation are box boys. So, you could stay under my name but I don’t trust that he won’t try to get you back by either suing or doing something. My question now is, is there someone who you trust enough for me to transfer your ownership form to.”

Kauri pauses. The gears shift in his head for a moment before he looks past Vincent and back at Jake. The widest shit-eating grin nearly splits Kauri’s face in half. He looks over Vincent’s shoulder and laughs, “Hey Jake, want your own Romantic?”

Vincent looks over his shoulder and sees a very exasperated, tired, and just downright flustered Jake.

“I- um- Kauri- I- please don’t wrd it like that, that makes me sound terrible.”

“And.”

“I- mean in order to keep Owen away from you then yes I will but please don’t,” Jake stampers, “I don’t and won’t own you.”

Kauri pushes past Vincent and boops Jake on the nose, “Congrats you get your own boxie.”

“Kauri, please.”

Vincent clears his throat and interrupts, “While I am used to being third wheel um I know you all want me out of your hair so I have the forms with me and after they are signed I will do the heavy lifting with WRU.”

After a second, Kauri chuckles before walking away. Jake just watches as he leaves, a sigh escaping his lips, “He is never going to let me live that down.”

“If you don’t want to-”

“No no,” Jake says, “I will, he's just teasing. What do I have to sign?”

[vintagedolan]

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment. 

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it. 

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks. 

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face. 

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home. 

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened. 

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile. 

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.” 

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief. 

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger. 

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York. 

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand. 

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through. 

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray. 

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts. 

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up. 

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on. 

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.” 

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart. 

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down. 

Bekah took her silence as an answer. 

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down. 

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything. 

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work. 

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them. 

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.” 

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw. 

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway. 

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her. 

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater. 

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over. 

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out. 

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him. 

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands. 

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her. 

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar. 

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated. 

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister. 

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?” 

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage. 

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.” 

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room. 

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom. 

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.” 

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together. 

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world. 

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright. 

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery. 

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in. 

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek. 

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees. 

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane. 

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room. 

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left. 

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again. 

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough. 

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?” 

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him. 

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him. 

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying. 

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep. 

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused. 

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.” 

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline. 

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.” 

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her. 

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.” 

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name. 

“His name is Devin.” 

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall. 

“Send him up.” 

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it. 

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.” 

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element. 

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.” 

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.” 

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.” 

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee. 

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers. 

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA. 

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar. 

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.” 

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.” 

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done. 

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted. 

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.  

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting. 

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.” 

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce. 

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly. 

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside. 

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale. 

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level. 

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking. 

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there. 

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much. 

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Yoongi

Listen. I have been even more in my feels for Yoongi this week, considering that he’s had surgery and he’s recovering. And I KNOW as a Yoongi stan, that a lot of us are feeling helpless and wishing somehow that we could be there to help him and comfort him. 

So here. A nothing but pure fluff, feel good, caring for Yoongi after surgery drabble. I hope it can bring my fellow Yoongi stans some comfort. <3 

Rest and get well soon, bby. We’re rooting for you. @sheebaba​

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, BTS Fluff, Fluff, Min Yoongi, Suga, Yoongi, Yoongi x you, Yoongi x reader, Min Yoongi x you, Min Yoongi x reader

Genre: Fluff Fluff Fluff

Title: Rest and Recover

Every time the door at the end of the long hallway opens, and a doctor appears, tapping softly down to the waiting room on slippered feet, you feel your heart begin to race in your chest and your breath feel as if it suddenly catches in your throat. 

This time-once again-the doctor walks right past where you sit and to another waiting family in a corner of the hushed, warmly lit room. 

“Hey, here, noona.” Taehyung taps your shoulder, and when you glance up at him, he hands you the cold cup of an iced latte, as he settles back down into the seat beside you, nursing his own coffee. 

“Hey, (Y/N). Don’t worry so much.” Jin shoulders you from your other side, bumping you gently with a soft smile on his full lips, although you can see the fatigue and worry in his dark eyes reflecting back to your own. “Yoongi will be fine.” 

The condensation from the forgotten drink is making your fingers clammy and cold, and you set it on a nearby table, taking in a deep, shuddering breath, as your eyes once again-unbidden-flit to the surgery doors at the end of the hall. 

“Right. It’s a perfectly easy, normal procedure.” Your voice is shaky, and you don’t think anyone is buying your nonchalant words. 

“Hyung is tough.” Jungkook speaks up from where he is sitting across from you, next to the other boys, and offers you a front teeth filled smile as his eyes crinkle, releasing a bit of the pressure in your chest. “He’s gonna do great.” 

“Besides.” Jimin pipes up as he yawns widely, his head resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “He’s needed to do this for awhile now.” 

You take in another deep breath through your nose, parting your lips to think of something to say to reassure them, when the doors once again open at the end of the hall and you’re flinging your gaze back to them in a desperate attempt at some sort of sanity. 

And this time, the doctor looks familiar, as he heads in your direction. 

Coming to your feet so quickly that you drop your phone off your lap-Taehyung’s quick reflexes the only thing that save the unfortunate electronic from hitting the tile floor-you feel out of breath, as the doctor removes his mask and offers you a tired smile as he approaches. 

“How is he?” You ask before he has the chance to say anything, your words hurried and rushed and stuttered with the lack of air that you feel squeezing behind your rib cage. 

“Mr. Min did just fine.” The doctor’s kind eyes crease behind his glasses, as he reaches out to pat you comfortingly on the shoulder. “Everything went smoothly.” His brow furrows slightly, as his gaze moves from you, to the other six standing boys gathered around. “Although it was pretty torn up in there. He must have been in terrific pain for quite some while now.” 

Your heart clenches and aches suddenly at his words. Yoongi had always been so good at hiding things that he’d thought would upset you, and apparently, this time, he’d hid his pain from everyone, including you. 

You feel Jin squeeze your shoulder from beside you, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Can I see him?” You ask without thinking, wringing your hands together in front of your body, your fingers chilled and pale from waiting in the cold atmosphere of the hospital for so long. 

The doctor nods. “Yes, of course. I’ll have the nurse show you the way.” 

Finally, after hours of panic, as you bid the boys farewell and head to follow the doctor down that long corridor, back the way he had came, there is a sense of relief. 

Yoongi is okay. 

******

“Min Yoongi!” Your voice is full of exasperation, as you return from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of stew, to see your boyfriend trying to adjust himself into a sitting position on the bed. 

You hurry to his side, setting down the hot bowl, as you shoot him a warning look and push him back down into the plethora of pillows, careful to avoid his right shoulder, held immovable against his chest in the tight sling. 

“You’re supposed to be lying down!” You scold, sitting down on the chair beside the bed with a huff. 

“I know, I know.” Yoongi grunts out, rolling his eyes, as he winces slightly and tries to position himself more comfortably now that he’s inclined once more. “But I feel fine.” 

“Oh really?” You ask sarcastically, reaching for the discarded bowl of stew and the spoon you had brought back from the kitchen, as you shoot him a glare. “Because the way you were moaning in your sleep last night tells me differently.” 

“Baby-” Yoongi starts to protest, but you cut off his words with a spoonful of stew, and it’s his turn to shoot you an annoyed glare, as he chews and swallows, before continuing with his protests, “Listen, I have work to do-” 

“No you don’t.” You shake your head forcefully, and feed him another mouthful of stew, as you glance over your shoulder at your phone on the bedside table. “I already asked Joon to take care of everything at the studio.” 

“You let Kim Namjoon into my studio??” Yoongi blurts out in disbelief, struggling to rise back into a sitting position at the apparently shocking news. “That bumbling buffoon’s going to break everything! There’s a reason I have a keypad on the door, you know!” 

“Will you just relax?” You exhale with effort, as you stand once more and forcefully push him back down onto the bed, but not without some strength. Min Yoongi was deceptively strong. You reach up to brush tousled hair from your forehead and let out a long exhale. “Dammit, just stay put will you? I’m trying to get you better and you’re not helping at all!” 

For once, Yoongi looks sufficiently apologetic. 

“I’m sorry, baby, you’re right.” He sighs out before grumbling under his breath around another mouthful of stew, “But the Genius Lab better be standing after all this.” 

You grin and lean over to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’’m sure everything will be fine.” 

*******

“Dammit!” 

You glance up from the book you’re reading as you hear Yoongi’s forceful expletive through the cracked doorway of the bathroom, and rising to your feet, you pad across the room, carefully pushing open the door to peek around the edge, as you ask, “Everything okay in here?” 

“Yeah, just fine.” Yoongi replies, voice laced with frustration, as he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his good hand, eyes closing for a brief moment, as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just that I can’t get this damn shirt off.” 

You stifle a smile, and slip into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The room is hot and foggy and full of steam, the shower running heatedly in the background, and for probably quite some time, if Yoongi’s struggle is any evidence. 

You move behind him and lean back against the cold marble of the counter, carefully lacing your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his unaffected shoulder, as you bury your nose in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent for a moment. 

He hasn’t had a shower since he got home three days ago-only washcloths and sponges-and he smells like himself, but mingled with hospital and sweat and antiseptic. 

“You know,” You murmur, lips finally curling up into the smile you had been holding back, as you tilt your chin to look up at him and meet his gaze. “You could just ask for help.” 

“You know I hate that shit.” Yoongi says, almost on a whine, as his dark eyes-still full of frustration-meet your own. “It makes me feel weak. Like I can’t take care of myself.” 

“Min Yoongi.” You come around front to face him, reaching up to catch his chin in your hand so he is forced to hold your gaze, as you say seriously, “You are the most independent man I know. I know that, the boys know that, your fans know that.You don’t have to prove anything to anybody. So just let us help you for this once.” 

He holds your gaze for another brief moment, and then heavily sighs, before nodding imperceptibly. “Fine.” 

You help him slip the sleeve of the shirt from his good arm, and then move to the bandaged side, fingers hovering over the material of the sling, slightly unsure, as you shoot a glance up at him, almost to ask him what to do next so that you don’t cause him any pain. 

“Just take the damn thing off.” His voice is gruff, but you sense the sudden tense fear behind the words, and his body is frozen beneath your fingers as you move to the strap of the sling, almost as if he’s preparing himself for the pain. 

You are delicate and careful as you slip the cotton of the sling from his body, letting it drop the floor at your feet, and your eyes rove over the suddenly revealed bandaging that is wrapped tightly around his shoulder. 

Purple and black bruising spreads from beneath the cover, and you can just see the dark outline of stitching beneath the sheets of gauze. 

“How does it feel?” You ask softly, eyes scanning his face, as you watch him for any signs of subtle pain. 

Yoongi winces slightly, as he moves his fingers gently-free of the sling for a moment-arm still cradled protectively against his now bare chest. “It hurts like hell.” 

“I can get you pain meds-” You say hurriedly, as you turn back toward the door, only to be stopped by his thin, long fingers encircling your wrist.You glance back at him curiously, and note, with a pang, that his amber irises are wide and warm and more than a little bit affectionate. 

“No, it’s okay, baby.” He offers you half of a gummy smile, and you’re relieved to see it, because it’s been several days. “You know what will actually make me feel better?” 

“What?” You ask, coming back to him, closing the distance between the two of you, his fingers still looped loosely around your wrist. You reach up to press a careful, quick kiss to his lips. 

“First off, showering.” He wrinkles his nose in the common expression you adore. “And second off, you showering with me.” 

You laugh, and nod, careful not to jostle him, as you lace your fingers through his and tug him toward the still running shower. “Well, somehow has to wash your hair, don’t they?” 

******

“He’s driving me crazy you know.” You say, throwing your thumb over your shoulder to where Yoongi sits, reclined on the living room couch, clearly and obviously within earshot of your complaining. 

“I can hear you, you know.” He grunts out, grumpily, shifting his weight to move his injured arm above the pile of blankets. 

“That’s the point, hyung.” Taehyung grins at him over your head, and Yoongi rolls his eyes at the two of you. 

“Can’t you keep him in line, Taehyung?” You whine, taking a sip of your tea, as you implore the younger boy teasingly for help. “Just this morning I found him in the kitchen trying to cook. With his arm in a sling! The man never learns.” 

“Sorry, noona.” Taehyung holds up his hands in a gesture of dismissal, as this time, he turns his bright boxy grin on you. “He’s your responsibility now.” 

“Aish.” You let out a dramtic sigh, and swivel on your stool to shoot a look at Yoongi, who is watching the two of you interact with a somewhat affectionate grumpy look on his handsome features. “You could be a little easier responsibility, couldn’t you? Your’re so damn stubborn, Min Yoongi. I’m getting grey hairs trying to force you to rest and recover.” 

“You should listen to her, hyung.” Taehyung stands from his stool, and stretches long arms above his head, as a slight smirk comes across his full lips. “Otherwise, it’ll take you longer to recover, and Namjoon will have more access to your studio-” He reaches for his coat with a wink. “which means more opportunities to break things.” 

Yoongi starts up at the younger man’s words, eyes bright and wild, as he waves an accusing finger in your direction. “I knew it! I told you!” And then he calls after Taehyung, who is laughing and already making his way to the door,  “Dammit, Taehyung, keep that man out of my studio!” 

*******

The bedroom is dark and quiet, and underneath the nighttime sounds of Seoul that are seeping in on the cool breeze through the open window, you hear Yoongi sigh in discomfort from beside you. 

Turning carefully to face him, you slide beneath his good arm and gently rest your cheek on his chest, the bare flesh warm and pulsating with his slow, steady heartbeat, and through the darkness, you reach up to trace the contours of his face with your fingertips, as you whisper, “Are you okay?” 

He lets out a low groan beneath his breath, and you feel him shift slightly beneath you, as his good hand, trapped beneath your head, moves up to trace patterns across the bare skin of your back beneath the blankets. He lets out another long sigh, and then murmurs back, “I guess. It’s so hard to get comfortable with this damn thing aching and stabbing at every movement.” 

You push yourself up on your elbow to look down at him, and even though you can’t quite make out his features in the darkness, you can tell the way his lips are drawn into a thin line, and the way his eyes grimace slightly in pain. 

“Yoongs.” You breathe out, letting your fingers fall from the lines of his face, to carefully feel across the wound that marks his unbandaged shoulder-the stitches rough beneath your fingertips in contrast to his smooth, warm skin-and you feel suddenly helpless, and your voice quivers with emotion as you choke out softly, “I wish I could help you. I wish I could take your pain away. I don’t like to ever see you like this.” 

There is a moment of silence, and you reach up hastily to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye before it falls on his body beneath you, and gives you away. 

The fingers on his good hand reach up and cup the outline of your face, and even though it’s dark, you don’t dare meet his gaze, because you know if you do, in that moment, that you’ll burst into tears. 

“Baby, don’t do that.” Yoongi mumbles, his fingers finding purchase beneath your chin, as he forces you to look at him once more. He offers you a somewhat pained smile, and flicks away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, before he resumes stroking his fingers across your skin. “I’m fine. Really. It hurts me more to have you worry about me so much, more than anything else.” 

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle out, reaching up to wipe a hand across your suddenly dripping nose and eyes. 

“You have done more for me than anyone else.” Yoongi continues, as he pulls you back down beside him, your cheek going to his chest once more, as his hands reaches up to stroke across your hair and down your bare back, over and over and over in a comforting manner. The rumble of his voice in his chest vibrates soothingly in your ear. “And I love you for it.” 

His finger goes beneath your chin once more, and you tilt your head to look up at him, his pupils dark in the blackness of the bedroom. 

“We’re going to be fine. I’m going to be fine.” He cracks you a gummy smile, and his teeth are white in the dark, making your heart leap in your chest at the familiar expression. “So stop worrying.” 

“Okay.” You breathe out, tilting your head even more, so that you can reach up and kiss him-lingering and slow-on the lips, before settling back down into the warmth of his side. 

“And listen.” Yoongi speaks again, and his voice is drowsy now, and his words slightly slurred, as his good arm tightens around you, pulling you against him. “The only good thing that has come out of this is the sponge baths. Because I have an incredibly sexy nurse. So don’t think those will end anytime soon.” 

You grin to yourself in the darkness at his words, and close your eyes, listening to the slow, even rhythm of his heart and breathing as he drifts back to sleep. 

You are okay. 

Yoongi is okay. 

And everything is going to be fine. 

[something-tofightfor]

Seasons to Cycles / 6

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 12,549 (uh... oops?)

Rating: M (Some language, mentions of sex and drug use, talk of death)

Summary:  The morning after you and Logan open up to each other, he comes up with an idea ... and you have to decide whether or not to go along with it. As you continue to navigate with the new knowledge of his circumstances, what does that mean for the two of you?

Author’s Note: This one is a lot, but it clears up even more about Logan and Ariella, and helps to solidify your relationship with him. I hate that I made you wait so long for ... essentially a filler chapter, but sometimes these things happen. Please enjoy! 

You’d fallen asleep just before the sun came up, tossing and turning in Juliet’s comfortable spare bed as you thought about Logan. Wonder if he’s awake, too. Or if he… Unlike the other nights you spent thinking about him, it hadn’t been as easy to turn your mind elsewhere. How could I? He … we … But eventually, sheer exhaustion won, and your eyes closed, breaths evening out. You woke up a few hours later to the sound of Emily’s laughter, opening your eyes and staring at the ceiling for long seconds. Was it a dream? Did I imagine all of …  Bringing a hand to your lips, you shook your head. No, it wasn’t. Checking your phone and answering texts from Jess and Max, you dragged yourself out of bed and got dressed, pulling your bathing suit back on under an oversized t shirt and pair of shorts. If Juliet’s hungover, she might want me to stay with Emily today, too. After a quick trip into the bathroom to wash your face and pull your hair away from your face, you headed down the stairs, barefoot and half dreading what you’d find. But why? It was fine when… “Good morning!” You laughed out loud as you saw Juliet in front of the stove, looking awake and well rested, a spatula in hand. “I’m making breakfast, are you hungry?” 

 “Yeah, I …” You tilted your head to the side. “How are you so awake, Juliet? From what Logan said -” She laughed, flipping a pancake over in the pan before she looked back at you. 

 “Another Delos product. We’ve got a supplement line, and one of them is for hangovers. Logan made me take one last night before I fell asleep, and I felt fine this morning.” Jess could have used one of those after Spire. 

 “I can have the whole line delivered to your place, if you want.” You turned toward the back door, seeing that Logan was peeking his head inside, a grin on his lips. “Your friend probably could have used it a couple weeks ago.” 

 “Emily Grace, breakfast!” Juliet yelled the words, still facing away from you. “You didn’t offer them, Logan?” Juliet turned away from the stove, a plate in her hands. “I’m sure you had -” Emily ran through the living room and past Logan, giggling as the man fully reentered the room, bending over to scoop her up and into his arms. Oh, he… You watched, unable to keep from smiling as he hugged the little girl to his chest, her feet playfully kicking the air as they walked toward the table. 

 “Uncle Logan, I can walk.” She yelled the words, but he didn’t put her down until they were next to the table, and she scrambled into her chair quickly, still laughing. “Sit by me.” He pushed her chair in and then took the seat next to hers, leaning over to whisper something into Emily’s ear. As he sat up, she turned in her seat, kneeling and peering over the back at you as she said your name. “You come eat too, please.” Sneaking a glance at Logan, who was watching you from over his shoulder, you smiled and then nodded. I guess I have to now. 

 “Juliet, before I sit, do you need help?” The woman assured you she didn’t, and so you took a seat across from Logan, looking again at Emily before eyeing the man, unsure of how to approach a conversation with him. The little girl was already tearing into a small stack of pancakes with her fork, you and Logan forgotten. But he told her to… “Morning, Logan.” Juliet leaned over, putting a container of orange juice on the table in front of you, along with a lidded cup for Emily. “I figured you’d already be gone.” 

 “Nope.” He lifted a forkful of pancakes to his lips, chewing, his eyes locked on your face. “Still here.” I can see that, but… “How’d you sleep?” 

 “Fine, I …” You busied yourself making a plate, thinking. What is he… “Took me a little while to fall asleep, but once I did? That bed’s comfortable, and I don’t think I moved.” He laughed, and you even heard Juliet chuckle too. 

 “That’s why I sleep there.” He took a long swallow of coffee. “Took me a while, too.” It did? “And I’m still here because Ari called this morning, and told me she canceled our appointments for this afternoon.” He said it in an even tone, but you saw the hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Said she’s gonna stay in Malibu with her friends for the day, and that she’ll see me again before she leaves.” 

 “I’m sorry, Logan.” It didn’t surprise you, but you still felt for him. “Can you reschedule? You said you were going to meet with -”

 “Maybe.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I should probably just stop trying, and do what she wants, let the planners decide everything.” He doesn’t want to get married, but he still wants the wedding to be… “But on the bright side,” he continued, reaching over to ruffle Emily’s hair. “I get to spend the day with you guys now, and I hear that Em’s got a new float, so…” The little girl groaned and pulled away from the man’s hand, swatting at it halfheartedly without letting go of her fork, and Logan fought back a laugh. 

 “Oh, if you’re going to stay, Logan, I’ll leave after I eat, I don’t want to intrude on family time.” 

 “No, you don’t have to do that.” Juliet cut in, sitting down with a plate of her own and reaching for the syrup. “You should stay.” The table was silent for a few seconds, the only sound Emily’s fork as it hit her plate, and you didn’t know how to respond. It’s going to be weird, I … “Both of you.” You looked at Logan again, and then at Juliet, making your decision with a nod. “Good.” The four of you returned to your food, but Logan’s next words surprised you, your fork and knife frozen above the plate. “She knows, Jules.” Oh, Logan, what are you doing. Juliet swore quietly under her breath, and you dug your teeth into your lower lip, unsure of what to do. I … “After what Ari said yesterday, I couldn’t … I had to …” 

 “Logan, you haven’t told…” Eyes darting between the Delos siblings, you stayed quiet. “Oh, wow.” Juliet looked away from her brother and at you, concern on her features. “Are you … I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when you were here by yourself that day, but I … I couldn’t, I …” 

 “You don’t need to apologize.” You looked back at Logan. “Either of you. I’m not family, I’m not involved in this, I … I don’t need to know, and …” It doesn’t change anything, not really. “It was a shock, but mostly I just …” Hate it for him? Think it’s unfair? “I can’t imagine being in that position.” Logan scrubbed a hand over his beard and then began eating again. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to anyone, I already promised Logan that I wouldn’t but -”

 “He wouldn’t have told you if he thought you’d say something.” She took a drink from her coffee mug. “I’m not worried.” 

 “See?” Logan leaned in. “It’s not just me that trusts you.” He raised an eyebrow, still watching you. “Now Jules has someone else on the team.” The team? What …  But Emily turned in her chair, saying Logan’s name, and the man’s attention immediately went to the little girl, the seriousness erased from his features in favor of a bright - though slightly artificial - smile. You risked a glance at Juliet, feeling your heart thumping in your chest, and found the woman watching you with a thoughtful look on her face, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips. What is this… 

 --- 

 Later, the four of you were in the pool, Emily happily splashing around and showing off. She’s a much better swimmer than I thought, I should have let her do more last night. You were leaning against the corner of the pool near the hot tub, eyes closed and elbows resting on the cement and enjoying the feeling of the sun on your shoulders when you felt a hand close around your ankle, tugging gently. What the… Eyes popping open, you glanced down in time to see Logan surface directly in front of you, pushing to his feet and swiping the hair away from his face. “Logan, what are -”

 “You’ve been quiet, I wanted to make sure everything was alright.” He was grinning, but you saw concern in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to throw that on you earlier, telling Juliet?” He wrinkled his nose, pausing. “But I figured she needed to know, because I …” He moved so that he was next to you, leaning back against the wall, too. “I think I figured out how to …” How to what? “You asked what happens next, between us, right?” Us? “I want to be friends, and to see you, but if we start seein’ each other a lot, or do what we did at the Spire and have drinks or dinner or any of that bullshit? It could look…”

 “Like you were doing something wrong.” You whispered the words, watching as Emily posed on her float for Juliet, the woman pulling her around in the pool slowly. “Like I was doing something wrong.” 

 “Yeah.” You looked down at the water, seeing that the liquid’s movement and the sun’s reflection made Logan’s legs look even longer than usual, waiting for him to continue. Because he’s going to. I don’t know where this is going, but it’s not going to be… “And I’m not gonna let that happen.” 

 “Logan, you -” You turned your head toward him, finding that he was staring at you, the concern gone and replaced with urgency and determination. He looks … “What happened last night was -”

 “The best part of the last six months of my life.” No way. You lifted a hand from the water and covered your mouth, sucking back a gasp. He doesn’t mean it, he … “I’ve wasted enough fucking time creating a personality for myself, building a life that makes sense. I like spending time with you, and I liked …” His eyes drifted down to your lips, which were visible again, as you’d crossed your arms over your chest in defense. “Knowing that someone was -” 

 “Logan, you can’t do this.” A note of desperation crept into your voice, and you didn’t try to hide it. It wouldn’t work, he’d still know… “We said too much last night, I shouldn’t have -” 

 “No, I needed to hear it. And I needed to … I needed to kiss you, because it was killing me not to.” You’re Logan fucking Delos, this isn’t happening. “Ariella’s gonna think that you and I are sleeping together no matter what. And there’s nothing I can do about that, I’m going to be totally honest about it.” Of course she is. “But I looked into …” He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “This is going to sound fucking nuts.” 

 “What is?” You heard Emily yell her mother’s name, and looked up, surprised to see that the two of them had left the pool and were playing in the grass. I didn’t even notice, I… “Logan?” 

 “Look, we have access to some serious tech at Delos, alright?” Where is this going? “I used Jules’ laptop this morning, and you’re not gonna believe this, but …” He reached out with his left hand, running one knuckle up and down your bicep. “You an’ Jules have been in the same place at the same time … a lot.” 

 “Excuse me, what?” Eyes narrowed in confusion, you straightened up. “How do you -” 

 “I ran your name and picture through our system and cross referenced it with Juliet’s, and … she’s been to functions at Woodbury throughout the last couple years, and you’ve … you’ve been at events on behalf of Woodbury that Juliet’s also been at, and then there’s a picture of you here the day I brought you, talking to her and some of her friends.” As he spoke, you calmed down, taking deep breaths. Of course they’d have that type of … they need to use it when they make the Hosts to … and when they … “I’m not even in the picture, so…”

 “So I’m Juliet’s friend, right?” You squeezed your eyes shut. “And because I’m her friend, and you see her often, that’s how I know you.” You looked back at Logan, reaching up to grip the back of your neck. “And why it would make sense for you to stop at Spire and have drinks with me, or talk to me at parties, or to -”

 “It’s a backup plan.” You felt him squeeze your arm. “Just in case anyone ever asks, which they shouldn’t, but I …” He glanced up. “I didn’t wanna blindside you if a story ever runs that mentions you, and they call you Juliet’s friend and not mine.” That makes sense. “Because if I…” He leaned in, getting much closer than he needed to. “If I kill a story about a rumor between us, or tell people that I don’t know you well because we just met? It’s like admitting to something that’s not happening.” And it isn’t happening. It won’t. “I don’t know. Fuck.” He swore, letting go of you and pulling his fingers through his hair. “It was just an idea, we don’t have to … I can just say no comment if …” Wait a minute. 

 “Logan …” You turned to face him head on, reaching up to adjust the strap of your top. “Does this mean that you want to keep … I know you said that you wanted to be friends and keep talking to me, but what does …” 

 “We’re gonna have to set some boundaries, but yeah. I wanna keep you around.” He nudged you, the smile back. “This isn’t gonna get easier for me, especially the closer I get to …” The wedding. “And you bein’ real? Honest? Caring about me? I need someone like you around, even if it …” Logan wet his lips. “Even if it’s hard.” 

 “Hard?” I mean I know why it’s hard for me. “What do you -”

 “I’m bein’ selfish.” He shrugged. “And I know it, but maybe everyone’s right. I’m just a selfish asshole, trying to keep someone in my life because they make me feel better, even though it -” 

 “You’re not selfish, Logan. You’re literally marrying someone that you don’t love for the good of your company, and you’re going to call yourself selfish?” Slightly angry at him, you reached out, putting a hand on his arm. “Yeah, it’s going to be hard to be around you and know that what happened last night can’t happen again, but fuck, Logan, I like you. And I’d rather be -” He groaned and stepped back suddenly, dropping beneath the water, both of his hands closing into fists. What is he… When Logan surfaced a few seconds later, the look in his eyes was one of pure frustration, and you could only imagine that it was mirrored in your own. “Is everything alright?” 

 “No.” He swiped a hand over his face, wiping the water away. “No, it’s not, because I’m standing here, coming up with this stupid plan, and you’re just agreeing to it, even though -”

 “Do you want me to … not agree, Logan? To tell you that I don’t think we can or should be -”

 “Fuck no.” He was holding your hand beneath the water’s surface, grip tightening as he slid his fingers up to your wrist. “I want to grab you again and kiss you in this goddamn pool, but I don’t think Jules would appreciate that in front of Em.” You laughed quietly at that, but knew that Logan could feel your racing heartbeat beneath his fingertips. I want that too. 

 “She probably wouldn’t.” You raised an eyebrow, taking a breath to steady yourself. “And as much as I’d like that, Logan, you’re right. Boundaries are the only way this is …” It’s still not going to work. I’m going to get attached, and then you’re still going to marry her, and I’m going to lose you entirely. “... going to work.” Slowly lowering yourself into the water, you looked up at him once it covered your shoulders. “And who knows, Logan? Maybe after a couple months, you’ll come to your senses and realize that you shoulda kept ignoring me at that Whole Foods instead of inviting me to -”

 “Nah.” He lowered himself back down so that you were face to face with each other again, a couple feet between you. “Trust me, it’s you that’s gonna be wishing that -” Instead of letting him finish, you lifted one hand to splash him, catching him off guard. He laughed in surprise, and you knew that he was going to lunge for you before he’d even moved, but as he wrapped his arms around you and dragged you beneath the water’s surface, you were laughing too. Not a chance in hell of that, Logan. 

 ---

 “Will it just be you attending, Mr. Delos, or should we add a plus one?” The young man stood on the other side of his desk, watching Logan over the top edge of the tablet he held. “We just need to know so that we can reserve enough places at your table for the final headcount.” Ari’s not coming, she already said she can’t, so… He shook his head. 

 “Just me, Oliver. You can reach out to Ariella to confirm if you want, but when I asked,  she said no.” He shrugged, leaning forward in his chair. “This is when? Next …”

 “Next Saturday night. Since Ms. Delos had a scheduling conflict and your father’s unable to attend, it’s just you as a representative of the Delos family.” No pressure, right? “We’ve scheduled you for a fitting next week, Mr. Delos, for the fundraiser and for your …” He glanced down, frowning slightly. “For your wedding, it looks like.” For the wedding? Why would I get fitted this early for the … 

 “Where?” He tilted his head, watching his assistant tap on the screen. “And who -” 

 “Brioni.” Oliver glanced up. “And Cass added the note about the wedding fitting.” Of course she did. After the engagement, his publicist and Ariella’s had been instructed to work together whenever possible, communicating back and forth and keeping each other updated. So I don’t even get to choose my … 

 “Thank you, Oliver. Just add the appointment to my calendar so that I don’t forget.” It’s not his fault. “And hold off on getting ahold of Ariella. I’m going to give her a call now.” He glanced at the clock. “Send her an email or… whatever later this afternoon and confirm.” With a single nod, the man thanked Logan and then turned to leave the room, the door sliding shut behind him. I didn’t think I’d have to talk to her today, but … Logan took a deep breath and picked up his phone, swiping through until he found the woman’s contact information and pressed send, lifting the device to his ear. She’s in London, so I know she’s awake. To his surprise, the woman answered on the second ring. 

 “Logan?” He heard the pause before she spoke, and again before she continued. “What -” Am I going to start an argument over this? He eyed his computer monitor, thinking. Yes. 

 “Why did you and Cass schedule a tux fitting for the wedding? I haven’t even thought about -” He heard her sigh. 

 “I picked a designer for my dress, Logan. And one of the planners and I figured that a Brioni tux would be -” She picked out a dress? We still have almost a year before… But as Ariella continued to talk, Logan realized that it wasn’t almost a year until the wedding; not anymore. I didn’t realize how fast … “So I needed as much time as possible to be sure the dress was done in time, so they can photograph the process, and if you’re getting a custom -” 

 “I appreciate you trying to help.” He gritted his teeth. It’s the first time you’ve actually shown any interest in … “But I’m not going to be fitted for my wedding tux with a stranger, Ari. Mattie’s been my personal -” 

 “Logan.” He heard the woman’s tone change, and could almost picture the look in her eyes changing with it. “I know you love that woman and what she’s done for you, but … this is your wedding. It’s a once in a lifetime thing, and you’re a Delos, you need to -” No. I don’t. 

 “Once in a lifetime?” He laughed at that. “Alright.” So I’m just supposed to, what, stay single after we’re done? “Look, I have nothing against wearing a designer tux to the wedding, and I probably will end up doing that, but I want to at least talk with Mattie, see what my options are.” He gritted his teeth. “You can even have your dress designer send over a sketch or something. I won’t see it, but then Mattie’ll have an idea of what you’re going for so that …” A tux is a tux, it’s … a classic. “Ari, I want to work with you on this, that’s all I’ve ever wanted, but that doesn’t mean …” 

 “Doesn’t mean what, Logan?” There was an edge to the woman’s voice. “You’ve been trying to get me to help you plan this for months now, and I’ve finally made a decision, and you -”

 “Yeah. To help me plan, it Ariella.” He sighed. “Not do it for me. Not decide what I’m going to wear, or when I’m going to … it’s a fucking tux. It isn’t going to take months to -” 

 “There’s going to be press there.” He could hear the smug look on her face. “Stirring up more interest -” Of course there is. Of fucking … 

 “Thanks for the heads up.” He realized that he was gripping his phone tightly and exhaled, reminding himself to relax. This isn’t going to help. “How’d we get here, Ari? We used to like each other, and now I feel like this is …” She laughed, the sound cruel. 

 “It made sense at first. We used to have fun together. If I’d known you were going to expect me to …” You’re almost 30 years old, Ariella. And going to inherit … fuck. “We’re just moving further and further apart, aren’t we, Logan.” It wasn’t a question, and Logan didn’t have a response. This is the most … honest she’s been with me in… “It’ll work itself out.” She paused, and as Logan gathered his thoughts to reply to her, she spoke once more, a haughty laugh at the end. “Maybe you just need a good fuck. That always seemed to cheer you up.” 

 His fingers tightened on the phone again and Logan stood from his desk, the chair rolling backwards. “You have -” 

 “That girl I met, the one at Juliet’s the night of Jim’s party?” Don’t you dare. “She said you weren’t sleeping together, and if that’s true, it’s a shame, especially for her.” He felt his lip curling. This is because I won’t go along with your fucking … “But Jesus, Logan, you have Hosts right there with you, too, if you’re not fucking the babysitter, at least -” 

 “Yeah, Ari. I’ve got options. Just like you.” He fought the urge to slam the phone down onto his desktop, instead taking a deep breath and then letting it out. “Only difference is that I’m not gonna drag actual people into this and lie to ‘em.” He heard Ariella hum, followed by a sigh of her own.

“I practically told her what was going on, Logan. It’s not like -” So you did it on purpose. 

 “And how many other people have you practically told? How many -” He was growing angrier by the second, venturing into uncharted territory as questions about his fiancee’s exploits loomed ahead of him. “How many times have you …” Violated the contract and broken the NDA? When Ariella spoke again, her voice was low, almost seductive, and for a few seconds, Logan was reminded of the first few times they’d met, the way she’d spoken to him - and why he’d been interested in the first place. 

 “What are you asking me, Logan?” She laughed quietly, a groan reaching his ear. “How many people I’ve had sex with since you and I got engaged, or how many times I’ve gone against the terms of the deal?” Oh, she’s… she’s good. “Because one of those has a number, Logan, and the other?” She breathed his name out again, elongating the o, and Logan closed his eyes. “The other one, you wouldn’t like hearing.” The sultriness gone, Ariella spoke once more, the hard edge back, and her tone full of resentment. “I’m not fucking stupid, Logan. I know my way around a contract, and know what happens if this gets out.” 

 “Fantastic, Ari. Wonderful. Thanks for -” 

 “We’re getting married, Logan. You could at least try to be a little excited about it. Oh, and by the way? I’m emailing Oliver today. I’ll be at that goddamn fundraiser next weekend with you. We need to be seen together at a public event again.” The line went dead, and Logan was left standing in front of his office window, the device hard against his palm. I can’t believe she … But he wasn’t focused on the revelation that she would be his plus one the following week, or that she’d confirmed what he knew to be true about her nighttime habits. She never said she told anyone, but she… if she’s sleeping with… they have to know something. 

 He took the few steps back to his desk and set his phone down, reaching for the office phone. Picking it up, he dialed Juliet’s extension, drumming his fingertips on the wooden surface. Maybe we … “Jules?” He swallowed as his sister answered, trying to calm himself down. “Do you have a couple minutes this afternoon?” 

 “Of course, Logan, I can come down now, if you want, I was just about to go to lunch.” I don’t think you need to … 

 “No, sometime this afternoon is fine, before you leave? Don’t waste your lunch.” The contract itself is solid, but if she … “I’ll be in my office the rest of the day, so just let me know.” She told him that she would, and Logan hung the phone up, staring at his computer monitor. I don’t have a copy here, but it’s at home, I can… Eyes landing on his cell phone again, Logan picked that back up, quickly unlocking it and navigating to your text thread, fingers hovering over the keys.  No, not a text. Call her. So he did, eyes flicking to the clock as he waited through five rings and your voicemail silently. She’s busy, she … But his phone rang almost immediately after he ended the call, the screen lighting up with the picture he’d taken of you in the hotel. “Hey, I hope I’m not -” 

 “You’re not.” You cleared your throat. “Took a quick break so that I could call you back, but … is everything alright, Logan? It’s -” No, it’s not, but it … it could be. “You haven’t called in the middle of the day in a while, I…” 

 “No, it’s good. I’m going to order something to eat in a minute but I wanted to …” He pressed his lips together. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? We can cook at my place, watch a movie or something.” She’s going to say no. 

 “I have to work late tonight. I won’t be out of here until almost five, and then it’ll be rush hour, so I don’t know how long it -” You stopped, and Logan heard you take a breath. “Do you mind if I get there later than I did last time?” 

 “You can’t control the traffic.” He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And I can start the food before you get there, it usually doesn’t take me long to get back from the office.” He said your name, waiting until you’d acknowledged it to continue. “And before you say anything else, don’t worry about going home after work to change.” 

 “How’d you know I was going to …” You trailed off. “You know what? Nevermind. Fine.” He heard a phone ring in the background on your end of the line, but Logan was reluctant to hang up. It’s good to hear a friendly voice. “Are you sure that everything’s good, Logan? You seem off.” She hears that through the … “You can tell me later if you want, we don’t really have time right now, and I know that you don’t half ass anything.” I don’t. 

 “You’re damn right about about that.” Logan ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck briefly. “So I should plan on seein’ you about … six?” 

 “Yeah, probably.” You cleared your throat. “I have to go, I’m really busy, Logan. I’m sorry, I -” 

 “No, don’t apologize. I’ll see you later.” You said goodbye and then hung up, and Logan leaned back in his chair, both hands behind his head, the fingers laced together at the nape of his neck. The difference in those two … He sighed, letting out a long breath, and then closed his eyes, thinking. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Logan. Ariella’s not stupid. She would have covered her tracks if she’d told anyone. As Logan’s eyes opened, he thought of you telling him that he deserved better, that he wasn’t being selfish. That’s not what everyone told me. That they all think that all I think about is myself. It’s why William was able to … why Jim …why all those …  “Fuck.” 

 He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and then dropping his face into his waiting hands, fingers disappearing into his hairline. I was too fucking selfish back then and it backfired on me, and now when I need to be selfish? I … I feel guilty about it. Logan rubbed at his eyes before opening them and looking around at his office. I deserve this. Even if I don’t marry her, even if I … Jim can’t… he won’t … But as Logan’s gaze moved across the room, he realized that it wouldn’t be as simple as finding a way out of the Ariella portion of the contract if it was possible - it would be convincing Jim that it was the right thing to do, too. 

 --- 

 By the time you parked next to Logan’s car in the parking garage, you were more than ready to get out of the car. It’s fifteen fucking miles but it just took me 50 minutes to … You pressed the button on the elevator and waited, contemplating texting Logan to tell him you were there, but then opted not to, figuring he could deal with it if you just showed up at the door. He knows I’m coming, he …  You rubbed at your eyes, blinking quickly and thinking about how if it had been anyone but Logan that had invited you over, you would have canceled.  But he sounded like he was having a bad day, I can’t … can’t do that to him. 

 You’d seen Logan a handful of times in the five weeks since the night at Juliet’s, the man coming over to your place twice, you going to his place on a few occasions, seeing each other at Juliet’s once, but things had never gotten to the point that they had that night again. You talked a lot - on the phone and through texts, reaching out to each other at least a few times a week. It’s for the best, you admitted as you raised a hand to knock on his door. The more we … the harder it is to … You heard him call out that it was unlocked, and without waiting, you twisted the knob and pushed it open, stepping into the apartment. Oh, it smells… “Logan?” 

 “Kitchen!” He called out to you, and even though you took a few seconds to remove your shoes, you rounded the corner less than 30 seconds after you’d entered, feeling yourself growing warm as you saw him standing in front of his stove, a pair of rubber-ended tongs in one hand. “Hey.” He glanced at you, a smile on his face and then looked back at what he was doing. He looks … so normal. 

 “It smells like …” You moved closer, resisting the urge to slide your hand against his lower back and your arm around his waist. “Stir fry?” Peering over his arm, you glanced into the pan, eyeing the meat and vegetables inside. “It is!” 

 “Yeah, it was fast, and I already had everything, so …” Logan again glanced at you, voice catching. “Is it alright? We don’t have to -” But instead of answering, you reached over his arm and into the pan, carefully lifting a piece of green pepper and putting it into your mouth. “That’s hot, you -” 

 “It’s great, Logan.” You closed your eyes, chewing. “What can’t you do?” He laughed at that, the sound putting you at ease. “No, I’m serious, it’s really good. Is that…” Putting your thumb in your mouth and sucking the sauce from it, you paused. “Orange? I can taste the ginger, but it…”

 “It is.” You looked up, seeing that Logan was eyeing your hand, the tip of your thumb resting just against your lip. Oh, oops. “I’m surprised you taste it, I didn’t use much, because I -” You returned his smile, reaching up with your clean hand to squeeze his arm just below the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. 

 “It’s good, Logan. Stop worrying.” One side of his lips twitched as he nodded, and then you let go, turning back to the sink to wash your hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” you spoke as the water ran, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Traffic was a mess. I was stopped on 110 by the Intercontinental for like twenty minutes.” 

 “Damn, you can pretty much see my place from there.” You snorted in laugher, turning and looking for the towel to dry your hands with. I know it’s… “Shoulder. I was usin’ it to keep from splashing my hand with oil, and I never put it back.” Reaching up for it, you pulled the cloth from where it rested, thoroughly drying your hands off. “I don’t need it anymore, you can hang it on the hook.” Doing as he asked, you stepped back and watched Logan, his eyes focused on the food in front of him. “If you’re thirsty, you can get a beer or something out of the fridge, I’m sure you need it after that traffic.” That sounds … yeah. 

 It was still strange for you to be in such close proximity to Logan, and to have it be so effortless, though you could tell he was slightly distracted by something. “Do you want one, Logan?” Ducking down, you peered into the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle. “And if -” 

 “Get me one of the Lost Abbey Poppies.” Pushing a few bottles around, you found one, fingers closing around it. “Glasses are all the way to the right, and if you need a bottle opener for yours, it’s in the top drawer behind me.” Thanking him quietly, you set both bottles down on the counter, turning to open the cupboard for two tall glasses. “You wanna grab plates, too? They’re -”

 “I remember.” Opening the third cupboard from the right, you glanced over at the pan and then pulled out two large plates, setting them down on the counter and then turning back to the beer. “Do you want the whole thing poured, Logan, or just -” 

 “It should fit. If you wanna taste it, you can.” I do. Twisting the metal cage off the top of the bottle, you carefully uncorked it, lifting the neck to your nose and inhaling. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a sour, but that’s what you were drinking at Juliet’s, so…” I was, but I didn’t think he’d...  You heard him flip the stove off, lifting one of the glasses and tilting it, pouring his beer slowly. “How hungry are you?” 

 “Very.” Perfect fit. You grinned as Logan’s beer filled the glass, the dark amber colored liquid nearly reaching the top. Maybe I will taste it, it smells amazing. You brought the edge of the glass to your lips and took a drink, unsure of what to expect. Oh, it is sour but it … Swallowing, you saw that Logan had already dished out the stir fry onto the two plates, turning toward you and holding them in his hands, a grin on his face. “That’s tart, goddamn.” He laughed and set the plates down, pulling another drawer open to get out forks, setting one on each dish. 

 “Told you.” He gave you a wink and you took another small sip before you handed him the glass, watching as he followed your lead and took a gulp. “You gotta open yours.” Right. Looking away from him and down, you pulled the drawer open, reaching in to move its contents around as you looked for the bottle opener. Even his junk drawer is clean. With a small smile on your lips, you shifted a tin box to the side and then used one finger to lift it, moving around a few pens and a pair of scissors. But no bottle opener. As you rummaged through the drawer, you again moved the tin, flipping it over as you pushed it to the center of the space. “Ah, shit.” You swore as a small sprinkling of white powder spilled from it, landing on the back of your fingers and a hand towel that was folded beneath it. “Logan, I -” 

 “You should wash your hand off.” Turning your head to look at him, you saw that he was watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes, though the closest thing you could describe it as was anger. “I’ll -” What? Why? It’s just … But you glanced down again, looking at the powder, eyebrows shooting up and your entire body freezing. It’s drugs. He’s got … Oh, Logan. 

 “Yeah, I …” You pulled your hand back, glancing up at him and then down at the sprinkling of powder. “Thanks.” In the few seconds it took you to turn the water on and begin cleaning your hands, you heard Logan rummaging through the drawer again, and then the sound of it closing. Let him explain. You have no right to judge him. 

 “If you still want to eat, you can sit at the table outside, I’ll go into my -” What? Reaching for the towel again, you dried your hands, spinning back to look at Logan, whose arms were crossed over his chest. “You shouldn’t have seen that.” No, I shouldn’t have, but I did. “I’m -”

 “Is it yours, Logan?” You wanted - and needed - to be direct with him. “I mean, obviously, you don’t have to answer that, but …” 

 “It’s not.” He looked down at the drawer and then back at you, letting his arms drop to his sides. “The first weekend you came here? To watch that show?” You nodded. “She left it here then. I told her no, but she put it in the drawer because she didn’t want to try to get it through airport security, and … I forgot about it, I guess.” That’s a reasonable … “I should have thrown it away, but …” He flattened his hand on the countertop, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t.” I believe him. 

 “Alright.” You reached forward, taking the bottle opener from his hand and wiping it off on the towel - just in case - before you popped the cap off of your beer. “I believe you, Logan.” Before the small piece of metal had landed on the counter, Logan’s arms were around you, the man crushing you to his chest. What is he … But you hugged him back, closing your eyes at the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your cheek, the way his hands were pressed to your back. 

 You’d hugged hello and goodbye each time you’d seen him since the night he kissed you, and Logan had pressed a few short - and friendly - kisses to the side of your head, too, but for the most part, you’d been hands off with each other. This feels different than… “Thank you.” He spoke the words against your hair, giving you one more squeeze before he pushed back slightly, looking down at you. “For believing me.” 

 “If you were going to lie to me, Logan, it would have been before this.” You looked down at the closed drawer and then back at the man, allowing yourself to meet his eyes. “You said it’s not yours, and I believe you. I saw her at Juliet’s, so I know she …” Tightening his grip on you, Logan leaned in, and for a few seconds, you thought he was going to kiss you again, but instead, he turned his head, lips landing against your cheek and lingering. “Jesus, Logan, the way you’re acting, you’d think that no one ever …”

 “They don’t.” He straightened up, swallowing hard. “Or they didn’t, anyway. And … it’s not important.” He took a deep breath and then let it out, still watching you. “Do you still want -” 

 “Yes.” You reached over, picking up your beer bottle and then tipping it over and into your glass, Logan’s arms falling away from you. “I came here to eat dinner with you, so let’s eat dinner, Logan Delos.” You lifted the glass with one hand and your plate with the other, tilting your head toward the living room. “Inside or out?” 

 “Balcony.” He grinned at you, picking his own plate and glass up. “I like the view.” Yeah, I do, too. 

 --- 

 The sun was beginning to drop behind the buildings by the time you finished eating, Logan clearing the dishes and taking your empty glass inside with him, returning to the patio with two new drinks and a clean glass for you. “What did you bring me?” Smiling at the man, you reached up, letting him put a bottle into your hand. “The Poppy? You didn’t have to -” 

 “I’ll get more.” He lowered himself back into his seat, pushing away from the table and leaning back. “So you were busy today? At work?” I was. You rolled your eyes, uncorking the bottle and hesitating before you poured it into the glass, instead raising the bottle neck to your lips and tilting your head back. Really fucking busy. 

 “They changed the filing system, so we’re in the process of migrating everything over. And I’m in charge of figuring out what we’re going to do with the old records, and have to make sure that …” You trailed off. “It’s boring, Logan. You don’t care. Nowhere near as interesting as…” 

 “I do care.” He sounded sincere, lifting his bottle to his lips and foregoing the glass, too. “I know that kind of change is really stressful.” It is. 

 “Well, it sucks now, but it’s not all bad, because as an incentive for taking on the lead position, I get to represent Woodbury next week at this education fundraiser.” The look on his face changed as you spoke, flashing from interest to surprise and then back to impassive, the man staying quiet. Weird. “So I get to change out of this,” you gestured at your work outfit - a simple short-sleeved white button down and dark, ankle length jeans - “and into a nice dress.” You wrinkled your nose. “I just need to pick one out this weekend, but.” You took another drink. “Juliet’s going to be there, she was excited when I told her that I was going, too.” 

 “Are you talking about next Saturday?” You nodded, confirming. “Juliet’s not going, she had a scheduling conflict.” You watched Logan wet his lips, leaning back in. She told me the other day that she was … that’s weird. “So I’m going instead.” Oh. But Juliet said she was going to try to … “What? What’s that look for?” 

 “Juliet said she was going to make sure that she and I were at the same table, so that means …” He swore loudly, closing his eyes and reaching up to grip the back of his neck. Ok, well, clearly he doesn’t want to sit with … “Maybe she didn’t -”

 “No, I’m sure she did.” He gritted his teeth, then took a long drink of his beer. “And that’d be great, except for one thing.” What one thing? “Ariella’s coming in for it, she surprised me with that information today after telling me yesterday that she couldn’t .” 

 “Oh, that’s going to be fun.” You gulped back beer too, feeling the excitement that you’d had for the event waning. “A whole night of her making more comments about my sex life, and about you and I -” 

 “I’ll make sure we’re not sitting with you.” He sounded angry, shifting in his chair. “I’m not gonna put you through that at something you’re looking forward to, especially not something that you’re doing for work.” He reached across the table, touching the back of your hand. “It’s a lot of fun, and I don’t want to ruin it for you.” Yeah, well… it won’t be you ruining it. “I told you, though, you were at a lot of events with Juliet, this would have been another to add to the list.” Yeah, it’s funny how things work out. You pulled your hand back before you did something stupid and flipped it to take his. Can’t do that. 

 “Yeah, it would have.” He looked surprised that you’d pulled away from him, but didn’t comment on it. Wait a minute. “You said she told you today she was coming? Was this before or after you called me, Logan?” I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think that this invitation was because he … 

 “Right before.” It hurt a little, knowing that he’d been upset by the other woman and  then called you, but at the same time, it surprised you. That means he thought that I’d be able to make him … “But it wasn’t just about next week, it was also because she …” He rubbed his forehead with one long finger. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” Surprised at the abrupt suggestion, you agreed, standing and picking up the bottle and unused glass, carrying both into the apartment and placing the glass onto the countertop before walking back to the couch, settling onto it. 

 Logan lowered himself down next to you, but he stayed sitting up, legs spread and the bottle held in one hand between them, head down. “Logan, is everything…” 

 “I’m getting fitted for a suit next week, for the event.” Ok, and? “My assistant came in to confirm the appointment, and told me that I also had a tux fitting for the wedding on the same day at the same place.” What? I didn’t know you … “Ari set it up. She… I guess she picked out her dress, and also picked out the tux she wants me to wear. But she didn’t even … I got mad, and so I called her to tell her I was pickin’ my own out, and it turned into an argument.” 

 “What does she want you to wear?” Though you were upset that the woman was attempting to take something else away from Logan, you were also curious. “And who’s her -” He glanced over at you, hair falling into his eyes. 

 “Donno about her dress. But … Brioni for me. So I mean…” He shrugged, a tiny smile appearing briefly on his lips. “Could be worse, I guess, but still, she didn’t let me … if I’m gonna do this, I at least want some control over …” I get it. He trailed off, and you allowed yourself a few seconds to imagine Logan in a tux, but as soon as your mind moved to Ariella in a wedding dress, you cleared your throat. No. 

 “Why is it such a big deal to her? What you wear, I mean? And you don’t need to get it tailored this soon, do you? It’s months away, and -”

 “That’s what I said. But she … she thinks that because she picked a dress, me going into a place like that is good press.” He huffed, breath escaping his lips in a loud whoosh. “And she said that there’d be cameras there, people waiting to see me and take pictures of…” 

 “Is this whole thing a PR stunt for her, Logan? Does it ever end?” You spoke before you could stop yourself, and at the swing of his head toward you, you widened your eyes, taking a long gulp of your beer. Oops. “I mean, I -”

 “Yeah, it is. She’s gonna use this relationship as long as she can. That’s why I was so damn careful to include the amicable divorce clause in there. She would have made me - and Delos - look terrible otherwise, like it was my fault entirely that the marriage failed, even though we knew it was gonna be that way from the beginning. I couldn’t let that happen.” You can’t let a lot of things happen, Logan. “I’ll admit that when I was younger? Seeing myself online or in the magazines was exciting. I liked knowing that people were talking about me, that they cared what I did, or what Juliet did. And then they took it too far, publishing shit about my mom and dad, about my mom’s death, about Juliet an’ me… and it wasn’t the fun stuff, it was … it hurt. My lifestyle was one thing. I was with a lot of people in a short period of time, and it was what it was.” 

 “Logan, I don’t even know what it …” You didn’t know what to say, or how you’d react to your anonymity being stolen. “It’s toned down in the last couple years, right? You’re… well, I mean there’s the Ariella stuff, but besides that, it’s all about Delos, about the things you’ve been doing with -” 

 “It is. Now. I worked hard to make sure of that.” He settled back against the cushions of the couch, stretching one arm over the back of it and behind where you sat. “I told you before that Jim’s a shitty dad, but the one good thing he’s done for me recently, aside from giving me the chance to prove to him that I can lead Delos?” Logan looked over at you, expression serious. “He was honest with me. Said that my mom would have been really fucking disappointed in me, and even if I didn’t give a shit about myself, I should think about that.” 

 “Oh, Logan.” You winced. “He -”

 “No, it was a good thing. I needed to hear it. It didn’t help right away because I had a lot of shit to get over, but … it stuck. And then when I started appearing on news shows, and talking at conferences and actually staying sober for investor meetings and trips into the parks?” Logan wet his lips. “I liked those headlines. It wasn’t about who I was fucking, or where I was on a bender, or what I looked like while I was healin’ from …” He closed his eyes, wrinkling his nose. “It was for the shit I wanted to be doing. Building the brand. Making a name for myself that had nothing to do with me blowing a hundred grand in Miami in a weekend, or who was pissed at me, or what rehab I checked out of.” You winced at his words, realizing that if Logan had been candid with you in the past, he was being downright open with you that night. “And then we got engaged, and it’s been back to the gossipy bullshit, but it’s all positive, so…” 

 You moved closer to him on the couch, twisting and leaning one shoulder against the back cushion so that you could face him. “Have you talked with her about the fact that you … don’t want your entire relationship to play out on camera?” Deciding to speak quickly, you continued. “I mean she’s clearly not going to stop entirely, but there has to be a compromise, right? There can’t be a part of your contract that requires you to … make yourself available 24/7. I mean, you’re a Delos, and you’re in charge, so you can’t avoid some of it, but … people seem alright with not knowing everything, so maybe she …” 

 “No, she wants it. She’s afraid that if she’s not in the spotlight, people will… forget about her? I don’t know. For her, the attention is worth the loss of privacy, even though it makes it much fucking harder for my team to keep…” He paused, eyeing you. “Fuck it. She craves this attention, but then gets pissed when photographers catch her doing shit she shouldn’t be. It’s happened multiple times, even after we got engaged. We’ve had to buy the rights to pictures of her hanging all over someone, or walking into and out of a hotel with them, or…” That’s such bullshit, Logan. So fucking … how could she? 

 “You know, Logan, the more you tell me about her?” You let out a quiet chuckle, but it was sarcastic. “The more I just wonder how … what even made you interested in her in the first place. I know you said that you weren’t always thinking clearly in the beginning, and she’s really pretty, but I guess … I don’t know, it seems like you don’t really make it a habit of going back to … but you did with her.” 

 “Wow.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You really just …” I did. And I don’t regret it. You’re the one that wanted to be friends with me, and this is … “Before I answer, can I ask you something?” 

 “Yes.” You lifted one leg, tucking it beneath your other thigh and bending the arm that was against the back of the couch, propping your head up. “Of course.” What could he possibly… 

 “Are you this direct with everyone, or just with me?” At the shocked expression on your face, he laughed. “What? You’re not the only one that’s gonna ask the tough questions.” No, I shouldn’t be. “I guess I just wanna know if you’re being harder on me than you would on someone else.” Answer. You owe him an explanation, especially since you asked something like… 

 “Logan, I …” 

 --- 

 Is she going to answer, or give me some bullshit … “I’m treating you like I would anyone else, Logan. You don’t get a pass because you’re… you.” You lifted your shoulders in a small shrug. “Just because I like you doesn’t mean you get to get away with …” He grinned, closing his eyes. Good. That’s all I … “Isn’t that what we agreed on?” He watched your eyes move over his face, a slight hint of worry in them. Yes. Logan nodded at you, and without thinking about it, moved his hand from the back of the couch, letting his fingers rest on your shoulder. Though you glanced down, you didn’t say anything, instead looking back at him. “Well?” 

 Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Logan’s mind drifted from Ariella to the conversation you’d had after Juliet’s, setting the ground rules for your friendship. No conversational topics were off limits, unless it was something that he couldn’t talk about because of work or because of the NDA, even though you knew most of it. You’d agreed to sign an agreement if he wanted you to, to ensure that the arrangement stayed a secret, but Logan hadn’t felt it was necessary. She wouldn’t say anything, I … the fact that she offered is enough. General touching was fine - hugs, hands, a kiss on the cheek or the top of the head - but both of you agreed that there couldn’t be any additional actual kissing, despite the fact that he knew it had pained you to suggest that - and then stick to it. That part’s a goddamn … He swallowed, thinking of the way he’d gone straight from Juliet’s to Delos HQ on the way home, pulling one of the female Hosts into a private room and getting his frustration out. I had to, I was so wound up, it was … He watched you, thinking. It helped, but it didn’t … it wasn’t… these past few weeks have … Shaking his head to clear it, Logan returned  to your question. “I liked her because she was like me. Because she knew what it was like to grow up like I had.” He squeezed your shoulder. “Too much goddamn money, too few people telling us no.” 

 “I understand that, Logan.” The hand that wasn’t propping your head up was resting on your thigh, and he saw you rub the material of your jeans, a frown on your face. “So did you think you were just going to be friends, or that she was going to become a regular partner, or what? I guess I …” 

 “I was a piece of shit back then.” He sucked air through his teeth. “You would have hated me, and it wouldn’t have mattered, because all I woulda been doing was trying to get you in bed.” See? I can be real honest, too. “With her? I didn’t have to worry about that, because she was the same way. I was still learning my limits - going from casually using during college and right after to full blown … well, let’s just …” He gritted his teeth. “If I wasn’t high, I was fucking someone, because I didn’t have to think  about what happened to me, or what was going to happen to me while we were in bed. Delos wasn’t my biggest priority. My next high was.” You think you wanna hear this shit, but I’m sure you won’t soon enough.

 “Juliet … Juliet said that she was worried about losing you, Logan. That things got so bad for you that … something happened with her ex, and you didn’t … care what happened to you.” She doesn’t want to say any of this, but she’s not … she’s not trying to avoid it, either.

 “She did worry. And they did get bad. Something did happen with William, and for a while I …” Logan pressed his lips together to the point of pain and then sighed. “I wanted to die. I thought it would be easier, that it would be better. Ariella was a distraction from that, a way to … she wasn’t a Host. She wasn’t someone random, it was familiar, and I…” Without lifting his hand from your arm, he used the other one to scrub it over his beard. “I got used to it. It wasn’t anything serious, but it was kind of nice to be able to … have someone, you know?” He’d never explained his relationship with Ariella to anyone in depth before - not even Juliet. This is so goddamn strange. So… “But then I decided that I didn’t want to live like that anymore, and I went to rehab. It didn’t stick the first time, and I left early. Juliet supported me at first, but when I left? She said that she couldn’t have me around Em if I wasn’t going to …” 

 “How bad was it, Logan?” You spoke softly, eyes on him. “You, I mean? How bad were …” 

 “You really haven’t seen the pictures? There were so many of ‘em, of me in Hollywood, me with a buncha different people, looking like -” 

 “No.” You cut him off. “I mean I’m sure I’ve seen some of them, but I don’t remember ever specifically reading anything about you … like that.” 

 ‘I was a mess. Probably twenty five pounds lighter, my hair was …” He thought back to the pictures of him from that time period; beard overgrown and unkempt, hair greasy and at times, the ends grazing the base of his neck, eyes constantly glassy and dull. “To be honest, I don’t know why she was still interested in sleepin’ with me, because there’s no goddamn way I -” 

 “Logan.” You took a deep breath. “I can think of a lot of reasons why she would have …” You forced a smile. “And none of them have anything to do with the way you look or the way you are in bed.” He’d thought the same thing, too, once he’d gotten clean and seen the way Ariella treated him, the way that she would flaunt her family’s wealth and status to everyone else, yet expect Logan to handle financials whenever they were together, the way she never quite asked how Logan was, instead trying to get a feel - through Juliet, too - about Delos. And that’s why I started to pull away, why I… 

 “Yeah, I know, it’s my personality, right? I’m kinda charming.” He winked at you, but couldn’t keep the sadness from his voice, watching as your expression changed too, hurt in your eyes. She sees it and she’s met Ari once. 

 “Logan, that … you are, but …” I know. 

 “No, you mean money, and you’re probably right. It would have worked out for her either way, I guess. If she was the one I was seen with most often, and she was publicly there for me when I was getting clean, she looked like a supportive … girlfriend. And then if she stayed around after, too, it was like she’d been a part of my …” His lip curled. “Even though she had nothing to fucking do with it.” 

 “Of course she didn’t.” You reached over, squeezing his knee, then leaving your hand there. “It was all you, Logan.” You drew the corner of your lip into your mouth. “If she was clean too, do you think … do you think things would be different?” That’s a good question. 

 “At the beginning, I did. I thought maybe if she saw that I was much happier and healthier, and more capable sober? She’d want to do the same, and we could see what happened. But I got better, and she just kept … she didn’t change. And I saw the real Ari, so I started… well, I went back to the other people, tried to focus on work. I was still with her occasionally, you know? Because we did some business together, and it just kind of … from there, her parents and Jim got involved, and here we are.” He looked up at his ceiling. “I thought that if we got engaged, maybe things would change. That she’d want to clean up and get straight with my help, but she has no reason to. She’s never had the threat of losing her job, losing her … losing everything hanging over her head like I have. And so she sees no -”

 “Do you think she’s going to stop once you get married?” Your hand was still on his leg, Logan very aware of the weight of it, the warmth. No. I know she won’t, but the difference is that she’ll be doing this shit under my roof. “The … the sex she has to, because the two of you will be … but the drugs? The -” 

 “I hope she will. But what’s that saying? Hope in one hand and shit in the other, see which fills up faster?” He lowered his head. “I told you before, this is all my own doing. I’m here - right now, in this situation - because I fucked everything up. I embarrassed myself and Delos, and my family, and now I … what’s three fucking years? I spent that much time high as a goddamn -” 

 “It’s three more years where you can’t be happy, Logan. Three more years of pretending to … to have everything you want.” You leaned in, Logan’s hand slipping over the back of your shoulder. “Three less years of -” He leaned in closer, angling his head and aiming for your mouth, but at your whispered “no” he stopped. The fuck are you doing, Logan? Before he could straighten up, Logan felt both of your hands on his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. “I think I get it, Logan. You were drawn to her because she wasn’t just a random person. You being with her made sense, even in a non-committed way, and that’s why you went back, because it … there’s some connection there. I know there is. And maybe she’ll see it when you live together.” How is she saying this right now? How is she …  “I hope she does, Logan. I hope you …” 

 “Do you?” I need to know. I need to hear what you … He was pushing it; testing the limits of your honesty, testing you again, but he couldn’t help it. “Do you really want to think about me with -”

 “No.” You squeezed your eyes shut, pulling your hands away from his face and clasping them together in your lap. “No, because I don’t think she’s a nice person, and I think that she’s going to do whatever she can to get whatever she can out of this and out of you. And I think that because of a conversion that Juliet and I had about her the day of the pool party, and another one when you were gone on that first trip with your new clients.” What? “I think your sister … there’s something she’s still trying to make up for, with you, and that means she’s paying attention, even more closely now.” 

 “Jules is … she’s pretty much all I’ve got. Her and Em. My father’s better now, but it won’t … I won’t ever …” 

 “I know. She told me that too. But Logan, Juliet wants to see you happy and healthy and successful, and she’s never said that you being with Ariella is going to help you with any of that. She basically said the opposite, and that worries me.” He knew that Juliet hated the situation, but hearing that Juliet had also spilled that to you surprised him. 

 “Two out of three isn’t bad, though, right?” 

 “You trying to convince me or yourself?” Again, she has a point. It’s the right … 

 He straightened up, reaching out to take your hands in his. “Like I said to you the other day, I never thought I’d get marred at all. I’m not the type of guy that needs that kind of relationship, so I guess that doing this … it doesn’t mean as much, so I don’t feel like I’m losing as much. Look at my mom and dad. Look at Juliet. They prove that getting married isn’t exactly something permanent. So what’s a couple years? 

 “Who are you trying to convince, Logan?” You squeezed his hands. “You might not have thought you’d get married, but it’s gotta hurt that you’re going to go through with a wedding and the planning and spending all that money and time, and you already know it’s going to end.” Pausing, you arched an eyebrow. “I don’t care who you are, that sucks.” It does. “I didn’t mean for this to turn into…” He watched as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Logan, the truth is that what I think doesn’t matter. This has nothing to do with me. You’re going to marry her, and you’re going to follow through on the contract you agreed to, because that’s who you are. You know what you’re doing, and -” 

 He tightened his hold on your hands, listening not only to your words, but how you said them. She’s definitely convincing herself. “I do. I know what I’m doing, and what I agreed to. I understand the terms of the deal, and what it means if they get broken.” 

 “What does happen, Logan?” He heard you sniff quietly, averting your eyes. “If one of you were to break the terms, or try to back out?” Another good question. He said your name, waiting until you’d looked up. 

 “If, for example one of us were to let out to the wrong person that this was a business deal and not a real relationship? That it’s a stunt? And then that person were to tell someone else? There’s a financial penalty. A huge one.” One that I could easily pay right now, but … “And then the fallout from that; both companies looking bad, looking like we were trying to trick everyone. It ruins credibility, ruins what we’ve worked so hard to create with Delos over the years.” He swallowed. “And it doesn’t just hurt me, it would hurt Juliet, too. And Em. And the future of Delos.” He sighed. “And Ari, too. Her family, her company, their future.” But she doesn’t seem to … she’s still… “And there’s another penalty if one of us tries to just … back out, too, before or after we get married.” Unless what Jules and I talked about today has any merit. “But in that case?” He leaned in again, head shaking back and forth. “The one that didn’t back out also gets to come out on top, and it’d be …”

 “They’d blame you. If you wanted to back out, they’d get to … trash Delos. Trash your reputation, make it -” Bingo. 

 “My father’s … this is a lesson. This is the most exhausting fucking lesson he’s ever tried to…” Logan stopped, staring at your hands and the way they looked held in his. “And you’re right, this doesn’t have anything to do with you, except now it does, because you know what’s going on.” And it feels good to talk about it, feels… “But I think I … I started this thinking that maybe Ariella and I could be alright with each other, that even if I was sober, things could go back to how they’d been in the beginning where we liked each other and got along.” He took a deep breath. “When I didn’t resent the shit out of her.” That’s the first time I’ve ever said that to anyone. 

 “Oh, Logan.” You pulled your hands out of his and leaned all the way in, arms going around his neck to hug him tightly. “I just feel…” He held you, arms winding around your body, Logan’s eyes closing. “Damn.” The two of you stayed like that for long seconds, the faint sounds of the air conditioning unit the only noise in the room. There was nothing overly affectionate or sexual about the way you were touching him, but Logan felt closer to you than he had even when he’d had his hands and mouth on you. Why? Why is … “How are you going to get through this, Logan? Three years of … it’s going to get worse.” I know it is. But I hope … 

 “I won’t be alone.” He felt your breath hit his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. “I’ve got Juliet and Em, and I’ll have to travel for work, I’ll have …” He trailed off, thoughts going to the future, to the events he’d have to attend for work, Ariella at his side as his expected date. I didn’t even consider … He began running through the yearly Delos events, the places he’d need to be, the ones she’d be at with him, the way that his accomplishments would become theirs. “Oh, fuck.” He froze, eyes springing open, and he felt you do the same, pulling your head back so that you could look at him. “I won’t ever be alone.” 

 He watched the realization flicker in your eyes, too, and then saw your shoulders slump - but you never looked away from him. She’s taking this … “No, you won’t.” He watched you press your lips together briefly, then force a small smile, the fingers of one hand moving through the hair at the nape of his neck. She’s breaking the… But he didn’t want you to stop, instead just waiting for you to continue. “You’ll have Em and Juliet. You’ll have work. You’ll have your clients.” Your lips twitched, one eye briefly narrowing into an almost wink. “And you’ll have me. To -”

 “Yeah, but not …” He stopped himself, knowing that he had to choose his words carefully. Not the way I want to have you. He’d almost let it slip out, the words on the tip of his tongue before he’d realized it. Oh, Goddamn. Shit. Fuck. “Not as often.” He could tell that you knew he’d kept something from you, but didn’t ask what, instead just agreeing. 

 “Yeah, but Logan, friends don’t abandon each other.” Letting out a breath, you shrugged, hands still on him. “And unless your wife says something about the woman she thinks was sleeping with her husband still being his friend, I -” She’s never going to tell me who I can or can’t talk to. “I’ll be here for you to vent to, whenever you need.” He reached up, fingers circling your forearms and pulling your hands away from his neck, lowering them back into your lap. 

 “I’m gonna hold you to that.” He managed a grin, still watching you. “But I don’t know if that makes me … makes this better or worse.” You looked surprised but didn’t question it, just agreeing, and for the first time, Logan was absolutely certain that you cared about him in a way that was decidedly more than friendly, more than just a physical attraction. She get it. Gets me, gets … this even if … The two of you were setting yourself up for a disaster; he knew it, because he felt it, felt the emotion building up in his chest each time he spoke to you, the sensation almost overwhelming when he was with you. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t ever going to … feel something for someone, especially now. Especially with Ari and the next three and a half years planned out. Unless … 

 “You alright, Logan?” He felt your thumbs stroking over the insides of his wrists, the motion slow and rhythmic. “You look like you’re -”

 “I will be.” Does she mean it? Would she really stay around and watch me with … “Eventually.” Instead of pulling your hands away from his arms, you tightened your hold on him, the frown reappearing on your lips. I think she might. 

 ---

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[madamewriterofwrongs]

ooh for the july prompt list can you do 28 + buddie

For you, darling, anything!

July Prompt List

28. “Just by existing and by letting me speak to you, you give me an immense amount.”

Without Question

“No, no, I’m serious, Eddie.” Buck let his beer slosh over the coffee table as he emphatically pointed at his best friend. He could clean up later; there were more important things happening at the moment. “You, need to get laid.”

On the carpet across from him, Eddie threw his head back in a groan of frustration. “Not this again, Buck, I told you.” He had, in fact, told Buck three times since arriving and subsequently leaving the bar with their friends, but it bared repeating. “I am not interested in hook-ups. I need a relationship – with someone Christopher would approve of.” At least, Eddie hoped that’s what he said (words were a bit fuzzy in his head at the moment). “I don’t need to get laid; I need to get married.”

That seemed to sober Buck just a little, his mouth drooping downwards. “You’re ready to get married again?”

Eddie found himself doing his best impression of that singing bass (weren’t brains funny at 3am?), thinking of the right answer. “No. Yes? Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it but yeah” he eventually decided. “If I’m going to put myself out there again, it’s going to be with someone I can see a future with.”

“How are you supposed to know that on a first date?” Very good question, Buck. Eddie’s face scrunched in on itself as he sought the answer.

“I don’t know that I know what it would look like to meet that person.” Buck’s eyes were really blue when his face was red from too much alcohol. They were like an ocean in a storm. What?

“Okay.” Buck slammed his bottle onto the coffee table with so much force, it shattered their eardrums but he was already crawling to his feet.

He was halfway into the kitchen when Eddie finally realized that Buck was gone and called out “where did you go?”

Suddenly Buck was back where he started (had he even left?) throwing himself to the ground, now with a pen and a piece of what looked like old mail. “That looks important.”

“This is important-er” Buck insisted, leaning his weight against the edge of the table, giving his full attention to the paper stuffed under his forearm. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“Figure what out?”

Buck rolled his eyes and nearly hit his head on the table in the process. Should they really be doing this now? Well, if not now, then when?

“We’re going to figure out the perfect person for you” he declared with the confidence of a man who would have a splitting headache and a few bruises in the morning.

“You have a rolodex of every person on the planet that we can go through?” Eddie scoffed, taking another ill-advised drink.

Buck stared at Eddie too long for either of them to properly see straight, eyes forced wide before he inevitably fell asleep. “A rolodex? What are you, fifty?” Before he could process Buck’s words, they were moving on. “No, we’re going to write down exactly what you’re looking for in a partner, so that when you do meet someone, you’ll know they’re the one.”

Seemed reasonable enough. Buck was so smart sometimes, but sometimes he was an idiot (like that time he tried to pet a dog after they found it covered in – what they thought at the time was – blood. It turned out to be ketchup from where his owner had collapsed from a heart attack in the middle of making lunch). Buck was probably the dumbest smart person he knew. But in a really smart way.

“Okay.” Eddie leaned forward to match his friend’s position across the coffee table. “What’s first?”

Buck squinted at the paper, waiting for it to reveal its secrets. Just as quickly, he perked up and began to scribble.

“Number one: good looking.”

Eddie scoffed, wiping his spit from the table with his sleeve. “Why is that the first thing on the list?”

“Because” Buck drew out emphatically. “The whole goal is to get you laid. If you don’t find them attractive, then this whole experiment is for not.”

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes so hard he felt dizzy. “Now who’s fifty?”

In lieu of a response, Buck went back to his scribbling. “Number two: they have to love Christopher.”

“That is an absolute must.” Anyone he was with had to love Christopher the way Buck did – with his whole heart. He really was a great person.

“Three: someone who understands your schedule. Being a firefighter is not a 9-5 thing; they have to be prepared for late nights and crazy danger.” Buck’s face twisted as he wrote, into something Eddie recognized as hurt. It took him a little longer to realize why that sadness was marring that pretty face. He slowly reached out a hand to touch his wrist. Buck shouldn’t feel like he was alone, or that Ali leaving was his fault. He deserved to know that there was someone who wanted to be with him – despite the schedules and the dangers. His eyes really were so perfectly blue; even when they were starring at him hopefully. Especially then.

Eddie opened his mouth but nothing came out so he closed it again, hoping the lack of oxygen would help him remember. He didn’t remove his hand right away.

Buck spent the next forty minutes emphatically telling Eddie exactly what his ideal person would be, with Eddie adding commentary here and there to make sure Buck got the wording right (maybe, things were still a bit hazy).

At the end of everything, there were ten items on the list. Ten items for the perfect partner for Eddie. Now all he had to do was find that person. He stared at Buck, proudly handing Eddie the paper for him to tuck into his back pocket, and something of a smile rose to his lips. Finding that person would be the easy part, thought Drunk Eddie. All he had to do was remember the list and even his sober counter-part (as obtuse as he was – excellent word choice, Drunk Eddie) would able to figure it out.

Just to be sure, Eddie waited until Buck stumbled towards the bathroom for the third time, before he retrieved the list from his back pocket and added an eleventh item.

There. Easy as pie.

Thoughts of delicious, sugar-filled pastries, had Eddie stumbling up the stairs to the master bathroom. Why did he think getting drunk at Hen’s birthday party was a good idea? He was not in his twenties anymore. This shit had consequences.

Of course, he expected those consequences to be a massive hangover and some second-hand embarrassment (which he did have). What he wasn’t expecting, was to wake up with his arm around the waist of a half-naked Buck.

Well that was new.

The soft smile on his face as he watched Buck’s even breathing, so calm and safe, was also…not that new. Certainly not one he’d ever experienced while sleeping shirtless in his best friend’s bed, obviously; but being happy that Buck was peaceful and all right was something Eddie experienced on a daily basis.

He carefully pulled his arm away from that – surprisingly soft – abdomen, and rolled onto his back as naturally as he could without waking the other man. If Buck woke up to them cuddling like that, there might need to be a discussion about why he felt so comfortable like that; and morning afters were not the time for existential wanderings.

Not that this was a ‘morning after’. It was the morning after a night of heavy drinking and clearly neither of them were fit to drive, let alone sleep on the couch without hurting themselves. Buck’s bed was big enough for two grown men to rest comfortably (not that they seemed to be using half of the space) so it made sense that they would share.

Yup, perfectly reasonable. Anything else – like his heart beating out of his chest with longing – was just an aftershock of the abhorrent amount of alcohol they’d consumed.

Who thought any of that was a good idea?

Oh right. Christopher was away at camp and Buck had dragged him to Hen’s birthday party; where she’d loudly declared that for one damn night, she wanted to celebrate everything she’d accomplished with her closest friends, consequences be damned. Which, of course, meant that several rounds of tequila shots were ordered in honor of the birthday girl. He vaguely recalled Karen getting exasperatedly drunk beside her wife, which encouraged Eddie to drink his loneliness away. Which seemed to have led back to Buck’s apartment.

There were definitely some dots missing there.

Namely, why he’d let himself sleep in his jeans but not his shirt (in Buck’s bed!).

Before he could even attempt to make connections, the body beside him began to stir, and the peaceful rest on Buck’s face soured into disgruntled pain.

“What died in my mouth?” He chewed on the words as they left his lips, leaving Eddie to dodge a few flailing limbs as Buck returned to the living. A few more scrapes of his tongue against his teeth seemingly had Buck satisfied that he wouldn’t get the taste out of his mouth without help, so he rolled over to check the time on his phone, only to find a body in the way.

“Eddie?” he groaned against the morning light through his window. “What are you doing here?”

The firefighter tried to shake his head but found it only made his stomach protest harder than it had been already. “We are too old to be drinking this much” he hoarsely declared.

Buck’s reply was swallowed by his retreating form as he stumbled towards the bathroom to empty the contents of his bad decision. Eddie let his head fall back against the pillow, the only sounds in the apartment becoming Buck’s retching, and Eddie’s painful decision to forget everything about last night.

Stumbling through the door of his bedroom a few hours later (Buck had insisted on taking him out for a greasy breakfast before dropping him off at home), Eddie had just enough mental energy to toss his clothes vaguely near the hamper before jumping in the shower and then straight to bed. He had never been so grateful for a day off in his life.

Much like the night before, Eddie remembered very little of the day he slept away; those 24 hours became a blip in the string of time that carried no real significance in his life and was happily forgotten.

When doing laundry a few days later, he did find a piece of Buck’s mail folded into the back pocket of his jeans. So, he tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of things on his dining room table colloquially called ‘things that need to be returned to Buck’s eventually’, and thought nothing of it.

It would be another month before Eddie thought about the letter or the night that time forgot.

Hosting random get-togethers for the firefighters and paramedics of the 118 (along with their families, of course) was practically a bi-weekly tradition at this point. Whoever was available would offer their space, and everyone was welcomed in, bringing food and drinks and games. It was one of Eddie’s favourite things about being a part of the 118: the inherent companionship. He had never been a part of anything where it was just assumed that he would have a babysitter, or someone to barbeque for two dozen people in his backyard, or drive him to the hospital when his grandmother broke her hip. No matter what was going on, they could always rely on each other.

He loved the family he’d built at the 118.

So what if he was a little lonely sometimes; he was never alone and that was just as good. Still, maybe it was time for him to put himself out there again. The idea of dating – of random hookups and dead-end dinners – felt exhausting (and not at all what he needed). What else could he do, though?

Luckily, it was his turn to host, so no matter how he was feeling, it would soon be replaced with joy and contentment and laughter. But first, he needed to clean up.

As was tradition, Eddie grabbed the pile of things on his table lovingly titled ‘things that should get back to Buck’s but likely never will’ and shoved them onto his bed until their guests had left for the evening. One of these days, he would remember to tell Buck about all the things of his that had accumulated at the Diaz house over the years (a spare charger, a hat, a few bits of mail he would bring over when he was helping Eddie with tax season – or Eddie was helping him, they weren’t really sure). Small things that might not be missed, but also a spare tooth brush, a pair of sweatpants, and a book he’d only ever seen Buck read at his dining room table while Christopher did his homework.

Maybe he should just get Buck a drawer for his things and then he wouldn’t have to lug it around every time he had company over.

The doorbell rang, sending Eddie sprinting to throw everything onto his bed so he could answer the door in a timely manner.

He loved having a full house. It made everything feel lived in. Sure, he strived to ensure that Christopher’s room (and any room his son spent a lot of time in) was warm and inviting. But there was something about 20 people crammed into the small sections of his house, filling the air with love, that made his house feel like home.

It also meant that there was a mess everywhere. He really didn’t mind it – part of having a big family was accepting that there would be a mess sometimes. With so many little ones running around, however (especially one who wasn’t so steady on his feet), it was best to keep the floors and corners tidy as much as possible.

That was when Eddie noticed a folded-up piece of paper on the floor of the hallway leading to his bedroom. It must have been a some of Buck’s mail that fell when he ran to get the door. An easy enough fix. Curiously, he unfolded the paper for the first time, just to see if it was something important.

Just a flier for some new gym Buck was on the mailing list for. Nothing special.

He turned it over to see the writing on the back, expecting contact info for a trainer or something equally relevant.

1.       Someone good looking (you have to want to bone them or it’s all for not don’t make fun of me for using that phrase it’s rude)

He recognized Buck’s messy handwriting straight away. What he couldn’t remember was why he’d written some sort of list on the back.

2.       Someone who loves Christopher (obviously that kid is your whole world so he has to be theirs too)

Okay, so this had something to do with Christopher, it probably had something to do with Eddie, too.

3.       Someone who understands your schedule/lifestyle (your job is important to you and you need someone who gets that)

Eddie stared at the page, memories of too much tequila and not enough inhibitions flooded back to him.

4.       Someone who will make you a priority (you need to make you a priority too you know)

Buck had written him a list of things he should be looking for in a partner, that much he remembered now. The commentary scrawled beside the list, however, was new.

5.       Someone kind (you’re so kind you need someone whose just as kind and appreciates your kindness because you’re so kind)

Eddie found himself dragging his feet towards the sounds of people, eyes still glued to the page.

6.       Someone smart (not like a doctor or anything but you have to be able to hold a conversation obviously)

He’d laid it out so simply that night; told Eddie exactly the type of person who would make him happy. How could Buck know that?

7.       Someone loyal (you deserve someone as loyal as you Eddie you stick by people even when they’re awful jerks who almost screwed up the best thing they ever had)

Eddie couldn’t breathe, head buzzing with the sincerity in Buck’s words, even sloppily written on the back of a flier.

8.       Someone who makes you laugh (I wish you could laugh more I like your laugh)

Someone called out to him – maybe the real Buck – but he was trapped in the memories of this world of possibilities.

9.       Someone who can read you (not read to you idiot you need someone who knows what your face means because you don’t always say things out loud but you do say a lot)

The new voice was in front of him now, reaching out to him, trying to pull him to the present, but he refused to leave.

10.   Someone who makes you feel safe (you make me feel safe)

And there it was; the list of qualities for Eddie’s perfect partner. The person who he could marry – because he remembered telling Buck that he wanted someone he could marry (that’s where the list had originated). It seemed an impossible task to find someone who fit all ten items on the list.

And yet.

Underneath it all, Eddie recognized his own handwriting, as messy as it was. The note he’d written himself so Sober Eddie would remember who it was that fit every criterion.

11.   Someone who’ll stay

When he finally found the strength to raise his eyes to meet the real Buck’s, he was breathless all over again. The concern, the absolute care on his face, tipped Eddie over the edge.

“It’s you.”

Buck ducked his head but didn’t physically retreat; he was still so close, all-encompassing – the same way he’d ingratiated himself into the Diaz family long ago.

“What’s me?”

Wordless, Eddie presented the list for Buck to read. He watched the journey of emotions play through like a slideshow from confusion, to embarrassment, to realization, to confusion once again, mixed with painfully unending hope.

“I didn’t mean me when I wrote this.”

How had he not seen it before? How could Eddie have been so blind?

“But I do.” His eyes really were like the ocean, weren’t they. Even sober, he could stare into them forever.

“Marry me?”

Buck’s chest expanded with the weight of Eddie’s question, eyes wide in a disbelief that made him feel giddy; knowing Buck was just as stunned by these turn of events as he was. The fact that neither of them had run away screaming in horror, had to be a good sign.

“What the hell is going on?”

In hindsight, Eddie should have known better than to have his earth-shattering realization in front of their friends and family. Everyone was too nosey for their own good. Just because he’d suddenly proposed to Buck despite the fact that they were not dating.

He’d just proposed to Buck despite the fact that they weren’t dating.

Athena called out to the boys again when neither answered. “Does someone want to clue me in?”

Buck turned back to Eddie, a calm smile on his face – the same peace that he’d had when they were lying in bed together (visions of memorizing his sleeping face filled his hope to the brim).

“Eddie and I are getting married.” Buck spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear, but his announcement was just for Eddie. The only word he had left to describe his beating heart was ‘disbelief’.

He’d just proposed to Buck despite the fact that they weren’t dating. And he’d said yes.

He should be more panicked. He should run away screaming. Ask to take it all back. What the hell was he thinking? Asking his best friend to marry him because of a list that seemed too good to be true. Just because Buck ticked every box that said they were perfect for each other. Just because Buck wanted him back, just as deliriously.

How could he not embrace it all?

The noises that erupted from their family was drowned out by the thrumming of his heart when Buck pulled him in for a kiss punctuated by the infectious laughter bubbling in his chest.

The list floated to the floor as Eddie wrapped both arms around his fiancé (holy shit, he had a fiancé), to be retrieved after everyone had gone home. Buck and Eddie would talk about everything – sit Christopher down with them to make sure he was as happy as he seemed as well – and the list would eventually make its way to their bedside table.

On their first anniversary, Eddie would present it to Buck in a frame, and they would hang it in their bedroom as a reminder of the night their drunken selves figured out what it took them years to discover.

Their perfect partner.

[yikesharringrove]

Hawkins High would have this reunion thing like all the kids who went there at the time would come like after 5 or 10 years to meet each other. So, what if Steve and Billy had something going on during highschool, but then Billy just left without saying a word to California, leaving Steve behind. They would meet each other there and Billy’s like more muscular and has a short beard. It gets Steve all hot just by looking at Billy, so they end up having sex 👀 (+ some angst too pls)

There’s smut

-

Steve tucked his shirt into his jeans.

He stared at himself in the mirror, sighing as he untucked it again.

He had gone through his whole suitcase at this point, trying to find something somewhat okay to wear.

He huffed as he took off his shirt.

“Can you chill?” Robin was sitting on her bed on the hotel. He had begged her to come with him, even though she had no interest in going to the reunion. “It’s not like anyone that matters will be there.”

“Really? You’re not hoping to see,” he put on a dreamy breathy voice. “Tammy Thompson?”

She threw a pillow at him.

“Guarantee you Tammy Thompson is doing better things than going to the fucking Hawkins High School reunion.”

“Well, whatever those better things are, it certainly isn’t fucking country music.” She threw another pillow at him. He tugged on a new shirt.

This one was nicer, fit a little better. He nodded once.

“Are you finally ready? It’s been hours Steve. The reunion’s probably over.” Steve threw the pillows back at her.

-

They checked in at the front table, getting their name tags and proceeding into the gym.

Steve made a beeline for the bar, getting two shots to loosen himself up. He got himself and Robin some drinks, and mingled.

He and Tommy had reconnected a few years ago, met up for coffee when Tommy was in Chicago one day.

He clapped Steve on the back when they hugged.

“You look good, man.”

“Hey, you too. Where’s Carol tonight?”

“Oh, she’s all sick.” Steve stared at him. He grinned. “She’s knocked up! We’re having a fucking baby. Can you believe that?” Steve hugged him again. “So, when are you two gettin’ hitched?”

Steve looked at Robin, and they both burst out laughing.

“Oh, we are not together!” Tommy furrowed his brows.

“Haven’t you two lived together since fucking high school?”

“I mean, on and off, mostly. But we’re, uh, not compatible.”

They had each moved in with significant others through the years, but when everything got messy, they ended up right back together.

-

The evening ended up being, pretty alright.

Robin rolled her eyes when Steve said that, but she didn’t complain, so Steve called it a win.

They were out on the dance floor, tearing it up like it was still ‘85.

Steve was laughing with some asshole he used to be on the swim team with when his locked on the gym doors.

His mouth went fucking dry.

Billy Hargrove was standing there, looking cool as ever, and hot as all fuck in a tight henley.

His hair was short, and he had a fucking beard.

Steve turned around, ordering himself two more shots.

Last time he saw Billy he was tugging on his jeans, was kissing Steve on the forehead and was tiptoeing downstairs, boots in his hand.

He left the next day.

Steve did not want to deal with this right now.

It had taken him years to move on from Billy, taken him fucking years of crying into his pillow and letting beefy blond guys fuck him in dirty bar bathrooms.

Four STD scares and a lot of wine later,he was over Billy. Completely and totally over him.

And here he was, looking at Steve and biting his bottom lip, and Steve was totally not over him.

Billy swaggered up to him, leaning against the bar, his shirt pulling across him pecs.

He was fucking jacked. Definitely bigger than he had been in high school.

He tossed a leather jacket down, ordering a scotch for himself.

“Long time no see, Stevie.” Steve slammed both his shots.

“Yeah. ‘Bout ten years, Hargrove.” He pushed off the bar.

He was itching for a smoke. Had quit about four years ago, but something about Billy brought back all those cravings, all those memories of sitting in bed, sharing a Marlboro even though Steve hated them, their fingers brushing on each pass.

He pushed out of the gym, leaning against the brick wall outside.

He scoffed at the alleyway where Nancy shattered his already broken heart.

“Steve,” Billy’s voice was soft.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” He refused to look at him.

“I just wanna talk.”

“Oh, so you finally learned how.” Billy huffed.

“I should’ve told you I was leaving.” Steve made a face at him.

“Oh, you should’ve?”

“Look, I’m sorry.”

“Great. Thanks.” He tapped his foot. “Jesus, you have a cigarette?” Billy rifled through his pockets.

And pulled out a pack of teal American Spirits.

“God. You’ve gone soft.” Billy shook his head, lighting two in his mouth, passing one to Steve. He had several piercings in each ear now.

“Trying to cut back.” Steve took the cigarette.

“I quit years ago.”

“Well, sorry to break your streak.”

“Something about you makes me need a fuckin’ cigarette.” He took a long drag. “You and smoking just go together in my brain I guess.”

“I was hittin’ it hard back then. Probably always just smelled like smoke.”

“I always liked the way you smelled.”

And maybe it was the shots Steve had knocked back, or the way Billy’s earrings glinting in the light, but Steve leaned in, taking a strong whiff of his collar.

“Still like it?” Billy was smirking at him.

“Liked it better with the Marbs.”

“Well, two packs a day was probably gonna make me keel over soon.” He smiled when Steve huffed a laugh. “So, how are you? What have you been up to?”

“Jesus, we really doin’ this?” Billy shrugged at him. “I’m good. I’m in Chicago now. I’m an E.R. nurse.” Billy smiled at him.

“Good for you.”

“What are you doing? Since we’re making weird small talk now.”

“Been here and there. Worked in garage for a while, waited tables. Stripped too. I’m an English teacher now, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, come on. You act like I don’t know you. I mean, fuck, how many times were you my own personal English teacher?” Billy looked down, ashing his cigarette.

“You’re actually why I decided to study it. I’m in a high school now.”

“Bet you’re the teacher everyone gets crushes on. Get love notes on your desk, and all that.” Billy laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Nah. I’m a little more tough lovin’ than that. Don’t take any shit.”

“You’re too soft for that. Don’t front.” Billy smiled, looking down at his feet.

“One a’ my kids has pretty bad dyslexia. Parents won’t do shit about it. Makes me think a’ you.”

“Shoulda seen me when I got to college. Diagnosed myself.”

“Nurse Harrington for the win, then.” Steve laughed, smoke pouring outta his mouth. He stubbed out his cigarette.

“Where are you living now?”

“Santa Monica.”

“Explains the tan.”

“C’mon, Baby. I’m always this golden.” He smirked, waggling his tongue at Steve.

And it was like being back in high school, with Billy teasing him on the basketball court.

And Steve didn’t think, just grabbed the lapels of his jacket, smashing their mouths together.

Billy leaned into it, holding Steve’s face between his palms, pushing him with his body against the wall.

His beard scratched against Steve’s skin, lit a fire in his gut.

“Where you stayin’ in town?”

“Shitty motel.”

“Take me.” Billy’s eyes were wide in the dark. He nodded vigorously.

Billy pulled him by the wrist to the parking lot, dragging him to his car.

The same car he had in high school.

The blue Camaro still smelled the same, and when Steve turned around, the backseat was still sporting that stain, a little white smudge of Billy’s cum that had dripped out of Steve.

He smiled to himself as Billy started the car.

He put one hand on Steve’s thigh as they roared through town, heading down the service road.

Billy pulled into the motel. Was back on Steve in a second.

Steve danced out of reach, slipping out of the car with a coy smile.

Billy shook his head as he unlocked the door.

He pushed Steve onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

They wasted no time, tearing at one another’s clothes.

Billy pulled off his shirt, and Steve stared, brushing his fingers over his chest piece, a deer with white roses tangled in it’s antlers.

“Pretty.” Billy smiled down at him as he traced it. It was black and white, hyper realistic.

Billy leaned over him, kissing at his neck, trailing down his collar bone.

“You think ahead? Condoms? Lube?” Billy looked up at him.

“Who do you think I am? Was fuckin’ praying you’d be at that thing.” He kissed down his body.

Steve worked one hand into his hair, holding on while Billy swallowed up his cock.

“Holy shit.” He tossed his head back, one of Billy’s hands coming up to hold his own.

It was so easy, falling back into their old ways.

Billy knew just how to play his body. He got him hard and leaking in a second, moved his tongue so well, sucking Steve down.

“So good at this. ‘d forgotten.” He hadn’t forgotten how good Billy made him feel, doesn’t think he ever could. Just tried to push that shit away until he didn’t spend all of his waking hours thinking about him.

Billy mouthed down his dick, moving to suck lightly on his balls, spreading Steve’s legs open, and licking over his hole.

He pushed his tongue inside of him, sucking on his rim.

His beard was rough against Steve;s inner thighs, but he kinda loved it. Didn’t even mind the lame little pornstache Billy had grown in the summer.

Steve squirmed.

He hadn’t been with anyone in a while, didn’t get a lot of time off from work to date and fuck.

“Billy, just fuck me.”

“Haven’t tasted your sweet little ass in years, Pretty Boy.“

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that.” Billy sat up, looking at Steve as sincerely as he could with spit down his chin.

“You know, I really am sorry about that.”

“Billy, let’s just, talk about this later, okay?” Billy chewed on his bottom lip. Steve pushed his head back down.

He didn’t want to think for a moment, didn’t want to think about benders and crying at Robin while he threw up tequila and rainbow pills.

He let Billy work him open with his tongue and two of his fingers, let him dig into his prostate and bring Steve right to the edge.

Billy pulled off him, digging in a suitcase for a stack of condoms, a few little packets of lube.

He crawled back on top of Steve, rolling on a condom.

Steve spread his legs, rubbing the side of his knee against Billy’s torso.

Billy lined up, and pushed inside.

They both moaned as he bottomed out, his hips pressing flush to Steve’s ass.

He pulled out, his cock heavy, stretching Steve wide.

He rolled his hips, propping himself up with both hands on either side of Steve’s head.

Steve wrapped his legs around his waist, so much thicker than he was in high school. He felt up Billy’s body, feeling hard muscle before wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“Missed your pretty sounds.” He was back on Steve’s neck, sucking bruises into the skin. “No one has ever made me feel as fucking crazy as you.” And he began fucking into him faster, harder. “Can you still cum with nothin’ but a cock in your ass?”

“Yeah. Been a minute, but if you-” he cut himself off with a moan, back arching as Billy shifted, hitting that perfect little spot.

He was all breathy, his voice high in his throat, eyes wide.

Billy was smirking at him, had doubled down, started going harder, rougher.

“I’m gonna-” He didn’t finish his sentence before he was cumming, his whole body going tight.

It seemed like he was cumming for fuckin’ hours, eyes squeezing shut as he made a mess of himself.

Billy was painting when he floated back into his body, had spilled out into the condom.

He kissed Steve’s temple.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Steve closed his eyes, pretended for a minute that Billy had never left.

“Why did you leave?”

Billy was quiet. Steve still had his eyes closed.

Billy warmth was gone, and Steve cracked one eye enough to see Billy’s retreating back. He went to the bathroom, and Steve could hear the faucett.

He came back, the condom disposed of, and a towel warm and wet for Steve.

He cleaned him up, just like he used to.

“My dad kicked me out. Didn’t have a whole lotta choice in the matter.”

They had been planning a summer together. Were planning on hanging out at the mall and going to the drive in, and being stupid dumb kids.

“You could’ve called.” or asked me to come with you.

“Figured it’d be best if we just went our separate ways. Clean break.” Steve went still.

He was up in a second, shoving his clothes back on.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Fuck you, Hargrove.” He didn’t look at Billy.

“Steve-”

“No. It was not a clean break. It was messy and shitty, and I was over you. It took me fucking years, but I did it.” He wiped at his eyes. “Can’t believe I was so stupid, let you back into my life. What the fuck was I thinking?”

He jammed his shoes on, marching to the door.

Billy hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed.

“Have a nice life, or whatever.”

He slammed the door behind him.

It took him seven minutes of walking, and eighteen minutes of sitting next to the road crying his eyes out before he shoved a few quarters into a payphone.

Robin was back at their hotel room. He knew she was mad at him for ditching her, but when she heard the tightness in his throat, she softened, agreeing to pick him up.

“I fucking hate myself.”

Steve had his head pressed against the window.

“Steve, it’s okay-”

“No, it’s not. It took me so long to move on, and now, now I’m right back at square one.”

“This isn’t square one. You’ve done this before, you can get through it again.”

“But at what cost? I should’ve told him to fuck off. Not given him the time of day.”

“You’d feel just as shitty if you had done that.”

And he knew she was right.

She was always right.

He settled lower into his seat, let her take him back to their hotel, to his neatly packed suitcase and plane tickets for the morning.

He tried pushing Billy out of his mind.

Already had plenty of practice.

And all he wanted was blue eyes and a cigarette.

[kindajared]

CAT BOY JOHNNY

Hello! yes...this is 3k+ words because I got carried away...NSFW BABEY 18+ IM LOVE HIM YOU G U Y S (Looks like I’m big dumbass and didn’t incorperate his handicap and I hate myself, but please enjoy anyway)

You were nervous, really nervous. Your friends pressured you into doing this and you couldn’t refuse them…you were weak when it came to these things; anything for your friends. Jeez, so much for having a strong will. But how could you refuse something like this? It would be a new experience and you supposed you didn’t mind, but God, you were nervous.

A Catboy…it was hard to say it aloud. The only reason you even thought this would be a good idea was because your friend had one, Gyro, and he was absolutely lovely. They wanted you to get this one in particular because he and Gyro were close or had been before he was taken from him. They couldn’t live without each other, yet your friend only had the means for one…So, this was perfect. They could see each other whenever the wanted.

This one’s name was Johnny. He had had soft blue eyes and shoulder length blond hair and was thinthin. He was absolutely adorable and you were happy to take him in. One thing you weren’t aware of, was his personality…which was something that largely contributed to your nervousness.

--

You were driving back to your apartment with him in the passenger seat, his arms crossed and looking out the window. You glanced over at him now and again, hoping he would speak up rather than you. You sighed.

“Are you exited to see Gyro?”

You asked with a small smile, watching the road. Johnny’s ear perked up slightly from under his beanie and his attention turned to you, tail exposed. He gave a nod.

“More than anything.”

He replied. Your smile only grew. So this wasn’t so bad for him, you were glad. You had a little more to say.

“I just hope this doesn’t feel traumatic for you. Does it?”

You asked with a glance. You heard him shift in his seat and he shook his head quickly.

“I knew it was going to happen eventually. I’ll be fine.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. Good. This was good. You thought to yourself before you arrived back at your apartment just minutes later.

You went to open the car door for him, but he got out himself, hunched over like a moping child. You took a breath in before you walked up the concrete stairs to your apartment, him following close behind.

You both entered after unlocking the door, both nonchalantly kicking of your shoes before closing the door. You noticed Johnny sniffing the air. You lifted your brows.

“Smell okay?”

You asked him, hoping for the answer you desired.

“Mhm. I think it’s safe to say it smells good actually.”

He finally cracked a smile and you felt your heart could sing. You walked forward then, setting your bag and keys down on the entryway table. You let out a happy hum.

“Here, follow me.”

You motioned for Johnny to follow you and he did, both just steps from the living room. You held your arms out towards the simplistic living room; couch, coffee table and a television, your laptop and a book laying out. Johnny looked it over.

“Not much, I know, but it’s cozy enough. I hope it works for you.”

You looked at him and he nodded.

“I like it.”

You smiled once more, walking towards your next stop, the kitchen. It wasn’t big. Enough for two people to stand in. Fridge with a freezer, sink, stove and a microwave and a few cabinets and drawers.

“I don’t always have much, but I stocked up. I don’t know what you like, so I got a lot of different things.”

You spoke before you heard breathing in your ear, sniffing. You turned to see that Johnny was smelling you, reaching up to touch your hair. You swallowed, not knowing what to do or say. You just assumed this was some sort of greeting, maybe even a sign of affection? You could only hope so.

“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll like it all. I honestly didn’t expect you to be so nice. I think I might like it here.”

He spoke softly and you couldn’t help but blush.

“You think? That’s great!”

You were getting exited and Johnny could clearly tell, smile back on his face You couldn’t help but relish looking into his blue eyes, they were so gentle. You cleared your throat and walked past him, showing him the decent sized bathroom before the bedroom, which you had the decency to clean for him, making the bed and all. You opened the door to reveal a queen-sized bed, small closet, vanity and a laundry basket. Johnny looked it all over, walking forward to sit on the bed, patting it.

“I like it- I really like it.”

He gave his approval, and you couldn’t help but clap your hands together.

“Oh, that’s great, Johnny!”

You could squeal then, but you held that back. You then put your hands back down at your sides.

“Are you hungry?”

You asked him. You knew for a fact that he didn’t eat kibble or lap up water with his tongue, so you assumed he ate like anyone else. He replied.

“Starving.”

You put a finger to your chin and looked down momentarily before looking back up with an idea.

“Pizza?”

You offered. Johnny lifted a brow and you became nervous. Did he not like pizza? He leaned forward.

“You read my mind! How did you know?”

The excitement in his voice was something new. You wear so happy. This would work out, after all. You nodded, backing out of the doorway.

“What kind do you like?”

You asked. He grinned.

“I’ll eat anything. You choose.”

You nearly melted. You nodded and left for the kitchen, calling the local pizza place and ordering plain pepperoni. What could you say? You had simple tastes. You also ordered a sprite, not being able to hold back the temptation for soda.

You went back to the bedroom after ordering to find Johnny cuddled up on the bed with on of your pillows, grabbing and kneading at it. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling. He couldn’t have been more adorable if he tried.

“Pizza’ll be here in a jiff.”

You leaned against the doorway, not being able to help but watch him. He looked up at you then.

“What are you doing?”

His brows were furrowed in some sort of confusion and you widened your eyes. What did you do?”

“Uhhh, I’m sorry, I don’t-.”

“Come here, please.”

His lip was slightly pouted. You immediately went and crawled on the bed, quickly up next to him. He immediately embraced you, nuzzling his face into your neck. You noticed he was purring, and you giggled, reaching up to push his beanie off so that you could scratch behind his ears. He hummed softly and you felt his rough tongue against your neck, making you gasp. He pulled back.

“Is that okay? I can’t help it. It feels so good. No one’s touched me in a long time.”

He sounded worried, as if he did was completely unwanted. You shook your head, placing a hand on the side of his face.

“Don’t be silly. It’s fine. I like how it feels.”

You assured him. He smiled, his soft purr returning as he was quickly back at your neck, licking strips up to your ear. You shuddered at the feeling and Johnny noticed, arm sliding around your waist and pulling you close. You hummed, moving your other hand to scratched under his chin. Johnny sighed and moved his face so that he could press his lips to yours, you made a noise of surprise and he pulled away.

“Something wrong?”

He had that same look of worry. You stumbled over your words.

“No, I, uh...I’m not sure if I want this. I didn’t bring you home for this.”

You told him. He looked away, frowning. He sat up and brought his knees to his chest. Your eyes widened and you sat up with him.

“Johnny, all I mean is…”

You paused, finding your words.

“You don’t have to do all of that. I want to take care of you, that’s all. We don’t have to, you know…”

You explained. He didn’t look back, just buried his face in between his knees and spoke, voice weak.

“You don’t want to?”

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. You moved up next to him and took ahold of his face, brining it up so that he would look at you.

“I do want to, Johnny. I wasn’t worried about me. I was worried about you. What you wanted.”

You sighed before smiling, hoping he might return it. He blinked.

“So you-?”

Then the doorbell rang before Johnny could finish and you set you pushed some of his hair behind his ear.

“Let’s eat first, okay? I think we’re both hungry. Sound good?”

You asked kindly. He only nodded before you moved off the bed and held out your hand for him to take. When he was up you placed a kiss on his cheek before hurrying to the door. Johnny stood in place momentarily, hand on his cheek, blushing. He smiled to himself before walking out to the living room where you had set everything up for the two of you. He was quick to plop down on the couch, he loved pizza.

The two of you didn’t even use plates when you ate, taking sips of sprite from two different glasses in-between bites, barely making conversation, just making sound of pleasure. You both hadn’t had pizza in a long time.

“This makes me think of Gyro.”

Johnny spoke up after finishing a slice. Your attention turned to him and you finished chewing before replying.

“How about we see him tomorrow? Wanna do that?”

You asked, of course knowing the answer. Johnny nodded excitedly.

“Yes please, (Y/N)!”

He went in to tackle you with a hug, but you blocked him with your knee.

“No way! You’re all greasy!”

You laughed when Johnny pouted, but he was quick to laugh himself.

“Fair enough, I guess.”

He gave up before finishing his drink and sighing, rubbing his stomach.

“Thanks for this. It was awesome, if I do say so myself.”

He thanked you with a nod of his head. He stood up then.

“Can I go shower?”

He asked. You finished your slice and nodded.

“Of course! Everything in there is self-explanatory, so I don’t think you need a manual.”

You told him. He chuckled and nodded.

“Good to know. I’ll be back.”

“Wait!”

You stopped him and he turned around.

“I got you some clothes to sleep in. They should be on my bedside table. Thought I should let you know.”

He chuckled, lifting his shoulder before he just nodded and walked away. You sighed before turning back to finish your drink, proceeding to clean up, extra pizza in the fridge. You listened as the shower ran. You couldn’t help but imagine how Johnny looked…the water running down his back, ears and tail soaking, blond hair smoothed back. It made you bite your lip as you continued to your bedroom.

You proceeded to put on some loose shorts and a long T-Shirt, nothing special. The water had been off in the shower for long enough, so you went and knocked on the door.

“I hope you’re still alive in there.”

The door then opened to reveal Johnny in nothing but a towel. He looked as you imagined but better. You had to keep yourself from staring.

“I-I just gotta brush my teeth. I got a toothbrush for you too.”

You slid by him and retrieved your toothbrush from its place next to the sink, pointing to Johnny’s. You both brushed your teeth together, bumping you hips together now and again, making each other smile. Once you were done you looked at him with a toothy smile.

“Look good?”

You asked. He nodded.

“Those are some pearly white if I’ve ever seen any.”

He complimented. You chuckled before moving past him, butterflies in your stomach. He was too perfect; you couldn’t believe it.

You then slid into bed; nightstand lamp the only think lighting the room. You nearly drifted off to sleep before you felt Johnny slide in behind you, youbbeing on your side.

“You can turn the light off now.”

He told you, and you did as he said, reaching up for it. Johnny was quick to wrap his arms fully around you, pressing his frond up against your back. You felt his breath against the back of your neck, but the smile you had faded when you felt something hard against your back. You swallowed as Johnny began to rub himself up against you, purring  loudly into your ear.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

He replied in a gentle tone.

“You uh-have-.”

He chuckled in reply, pulling you as close as he could. You gasped when his cock fully pressed up against your back.

“I can’t help it. I’ll stop if you want…”

His tone changed to one you had heard before…disappointment. You could practically see his pout without even looking his direction. Even if you were, it was pitch black. You sighed,

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

You just felt you should point it out, though now you felt stupid. Of course, he knew he had a hard on, it was his cock, after all.

You gasped when you felt something phallic slip in between your thighs. You whimpered as it began to slide in and out. Johnny spoke.

“Can I do this? It feels good.”

He asked you, giving the shell of your ear a lick. You arched your back into him and nodded.

“Yeah- Yeah, go ahead.”

You gave him approval and he continued, cock shifting higher and higher until you could feel in against your crotch. You let out a hum and your chest tightened. You could feel yourself quickly getting wet. Johnny was purring and biting at your ear, groping at your breasts. You let out a soft moan.

“Johnny…”

You placed your hand on his, over your chest. Johnny gave your neck a soft nip.

“I want you- I want to be inside you, (Y/N).”

His voice was still so sweet, breath hot. You pressed half of your face into the pillow.

“Another night? Not yet, okay? I’m sorry, just…not yet.”

Johnny whimpered at your answer to his question. Though he had to sigh in acceptance.

“Can I touch you?”

Was his follow up. Your licked your lips and curled your toes, letting out a shaky breath

“I-If you want to, g-go ahead.”

You gripped your pillow. It’ not that you didn’t want him to fuck you, you just felt it wasn’t time; you had just met that day. after all.

You gasped when you felt slim fingers slide into your shorts, bypassing your panties to touch your bare pussy. You squirmed, breathing quickly.

“Shh.”

Johnny hushed you as he slid his finger into your slick folds. He hummed.

“You’re really wet. That from me?”

He asked you. You nodded, whimpering softly.

“Mmm, mhm.”

Was what you managed to reply with. Johnny took ahold of your ear with his theeth and tugged at it as his middle finger began to circle your clit slowly. You sucked in a breath and clenched your jaw. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like this.

“You’re so cute.”

He did in fact purr as he pressed his finger down, wiggling it. You took your bottom lip into your mouth.

“Mmm, Johnny, that feels-.”

“Good? I could have guessed.”

He knew what you were going to say, but that was no surprise. His ring finger slid down to your entrance and you pressed your ass up against him, making him grunt in pleasure.

“Keep doing that, please.”

He breathed. You began to roll your hips back up against him and he groaned.

“(Y/N..”

He nuzzled is face into your neck as he slid a finger into your hole, eagerly rubbing your slick walls.

“Nnn, Johnny, fuck…”

Your breath hitched. His purring only made this hotter. You could feel his tail wrap around your thigh and you hummed. Johnny slipped another finger into you, surprised you were already ready for it. You grabbed at the sheets, gasping as he pleasured you with his fingers, sliding them in and out at an agonizing pace.

“Johnny please, go fast- I want it faster.”

You practically whined. Johnny did as you asked, fingering you quickly, slipping a third one in for the hell of it. You squirmed up against him, gasping over and over again. You reached behind your own head to tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching the back of his head. He groaned, pressing his lips against your neck for a sloppy kiss before he opened his mouth, sucking and biting to create a mark.

“I-I’m-.”

You could barely speak as he fucked you with his fingers, pressing them against your walls as he hooked them now and again. Your eyes threatened to roll back as he spoke.

“Do it for me. I want to feel you on my fingers.”

He panted into your ear. You sucked in a breath as you felt that familiar white-hot feeling in your core, an amazing stinging feeling. You reached your climax with one last thrust of his fingers, cumming all over them, coating them in their entirety. You panted and shook in the aftershock of your orgasm. You took your hand away from Johnny’s head and were quick to flip yourself over to face him.

“Johnny.”

You spoke his name through challenging breaths.

“Hm?”

He licked at his fingers, sliding them into his mouth and smiling, though you couldn’t quite see. You managed to find his face when you reached for it, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, as you missed your mark. You both laughed softly.

So, this was a Catboy…well, this wasn’t just any Catboy, this was Johnny…and he was perfect in every way. You would care for and love him for as long as you could; he was yours now.

“Hey Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

You spoke.

“You haven’t cum, have you?”

Johnny chuckled.

“Nope.”

You kissed him again, correctly this time.

“Then, I suppose it’s your turn. Is that fair?”

Johnny’s purring returned.

“That’s fair.”

[for-ests]

Lost In Your Light: Peter Parker x Reader (Part 6)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 

[ my masterlist ] word count: 4, 319

CHAPTER 06: TOUCH 

The memories of last night lingered in Y/N's mind as she shuffled through the school hallway. 

It seemed that whenever she saw Spider-Man, it took days to get him out of her brain. And now, she knew what he really looked like. His boyish, yet captivating face flashed in images whenever she closed her eyes. It was a face she couldn't seem to forget. 

Y/N sighed hopelessly, closing her locker and slumping against it. She couldn't even focus on the workload ahead. All she wanted to do was be with him. 

Peter was his name. So common, yet so meaningful and charming to her. If every man that was named Peter was as striking and heroic as him, there would be no competition. He was so selfless and gentle.  

Shaking her head, Y/N blushed. She knew it wasn’t healthy to be fantasizing over Peter like this… Something about him was just so comforting. 

The girl glanced at her phone. 7:25am, there was still five minutes until class officially started. How was she going to get through a whole day of school?

Just when her thoughts were going to drift away to her heroic Spider-Man, a voice calling her name cut through the white noise. 

She lifted her head to find Kenzie, the girl she met in the bathroom. Y/N had almost forgotten about the injured girl she had been drawn to almost a week ago. 

"Y/N it is, right?" She asked nervously, stopping at her side and avoiding the foot traffic. 

"That's me." Y/N smiled, though she could tell something was wrong.

"Can we talk?" Her eyes darted back and forth with caution. Y/N's stomach churned. 

"Of course." 

The two of them headed inside the nearest bathroom. Y/N looked around and made sure nobody was occupying a stall before turning to Kenzie.

Kenzie swallowed hard. Her dark skin seemed a little paler than the day they met. 

"I really don't know how to say this, Y/N." She paused. "But I have Leukemia." 

Y/N snapped her head over, expression itched with disbelief. "Please tell me you're kidding." She rushed the words out. There was no way, there was no fucking way. 

"I'm not." Kenzie's lip quivered. The pure shock of it all seemed to slap her in the face. Each time she muttered her fatal disease, she felt a little more hopeless. 

But, the curly haired girl refused to cry in school. "I went to the doctor and they confirmed it. You were right. And because you warned me of the signs, they were able to catch it at an early stage. I have a good chance of surviving this." 

Y/N could see the conflict in her eyes. This girl was scared, she was hurt. She had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness that had a terrifying mortality rate. 

Kenzie stood in front of Y/N. She was begging for help, begging for answers. Cancer was no laughing matter. It was deadly—and it was too strong. It rendered Y/N powerless. 

 "O-Oh my god, Kenzie. I'm so, so sorry." Y/N's heart broke for the girl she barely knew. "I mean—I'm glad I could help. But I wish I was wrong." Her eyes closed in anguish. "I wish I was wrong, more than anything." 

"You don't need to be sorry. If anything, I should be grateful. Hell, I barely know you and you helped me in more ways than I could have imagined." Kenzie's voice was soft. 

Y/N's lips upturned, halfway between a smile, and halfway between a frown.  She didn't know what else to say. She was confused. It seemed her powers were stronger than she had anticipated, yet not strong enough in that way she desperately wanted them to be. If the girl was strong enough to detect undetectable illnesses, could she heal them as well?

There was a long stretch of silence as Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, her senses tingling. Being around Kenzie was like being around an open fuse. 

Y/N could possibly help her. All signs were leading to it, but she couldn't expose her secret. The conflicted girl wasn't ready for the world to know about her abilities. 

Y/N lifted her head and through the mirror's reflection, her eyes drifted back to Kenzie. There were distinct bags forming around her eyes. She needed help.

Kenzie breathed in, face twisting with uncertainty. Y/N was prepared to answer questions, but not the one that came out of her mouth. "How did you know? Please don't give me a bullshit answer." 

Y/N was taken back by her sudden accusation. "I-I don't know what you mean." 

"There's something off about you. Not in a bad way, you're just different. You know more than you're letting on." Kenzie said thoughtful, her words not intending to be an insult.

"Kenzie..." Y/N paused, eyes drifting to the door. She didn't know what to say, she couldn't even think. Her powers had to remain a secret. 

"You have some sort of ability, right?" She seemed to be speaking whatever came to mind. 

Y/N's expression wavered slightly. "No. I don't, it was just a lucky guess. Like I told you, my father is a doctor." 

"You didn't guess. You knew, before anyone else did." 

The girl crossed her arms, desperate to deflect anymore questions that she knew Kenzie wanted to ask. Who wouldn’t? Y/N knew she would if she was in Kenzie’s positions. "Even so, I couldn't tell you." 

Please let it go. Please, for your sake and for mine. How could Y/N convey such a thing without coming outright to say it? 

Kenzie chewed on her lip. "I was assuming." 

"I'm sorry. I don't even know myself." 

"It's okay. But you realize that being different... with whatever you have, isn't that far fetched. With everything that's going on..." 

Y/N managed to smile. "Like the aliens?" 

"Yeah. Like the aliens." 

The two girls stood side by side in the bathroom. The silence wasn't awkward, it was comfortable. There was mutual respect between them, even if Y/N couldn't tell her the truth. 

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but her words were cut short by the bell. 

"I guess I'll see you around then." Kenzie waved, slinging her backpack on her shoulder. 

"Let me know if I can help with anything." Y/N said, following her out of the bathroom. 

"No need. You've done all that you can do—"

I don't know about that. Y/N thought. 

"—Whatever you can do, I would advise helping others like me. We need more good people like you in this world. People who are willing to help others just out of the goodness of their own heart." 

Y/N was quiet as she watched Kenzie leave her side, disappearing into the crowd before she could even say goodbye.

✭✦✭✦

Y/N walked down the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets. 

The school day had ended, and truthfully, it had been a blur. The girl was still anxious from her friend's revelation. Y/N's prediction had been right. She was able to sense an illness with just one touch. She was able to feel it. 

It scared her. It scared her so much that all she could think about was a way to get rid of it. 

And every time she did, her hands ached with pain. Y/N didn't even want to look at them. 

That was why they were shoved deep in her pockets. 

She kept her gaze forward, refusing to look at anyone she passed. Y/N was anxious to get home, anxious to be alone and isolated so she could come up with some sort of plan. 

The girl pulled out her phone, side stepping a pile of melting snow. She was a few blocks away, and needed to know if her father was going to be home. 

Y/N: > Dad, are you at our humble abode? 

Papa: > Yes, daughter of mine. I will be until dark. Can't wait to see you. 

His simple and sweet text caused a smile to spread across her face. Perhaps she could wait a few hours to stress over her powers. Perhaps she needed to spend some time with her father. 

Decompressing sounded like the right thing to do. 

Y/N hurried home as fast as she could, which was surprisingly under 10 minutes. 

"Dad, I'm home!" She shouted and slammed the front door shut. Her backpack and shoes were laid at the foot of the staircase. 

"Afternoon, honey." He called from the living room. She rounded the corner and found him in the same spot and same chair, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. Some things never needed to change. 

"How was school?" He asked almost immediately, not taking his eyes off the current article he was invested in. 

"Fine." Y/N said, even though it wasn't. Fine was what people said for courtesy purposes. 

He nodded, excepting she would give him a one word answer. There was a brief moment of silence as Y/N filled up a glass of water to drink. 

She joined her father's side. He put the newspaper down to give her his full attention. That was one thing she appreciated about him. He may have been gone most of the time, but when she needed him, he was there. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he studied her intently, "You look stressed kiddo, did anything happen?" Her father asked, evidently concerned. Thomas L/N knew his daughter well enough to realize when she was upset. 

Y/N's gaze faltered. She wished more than anything that she could tell him. He deserved to know. He was her father, the one person in the world that loved her. 

But not yet. So she made up an excuse, a list that seemed to keep growing and growing. 

"Just some tests, dad. The usual, nothing for you to worry about." 

"Since you have those stellar grades." He chuckled, seeming to buy it. Her lie wasn't so far-fetched since she was a student. "There's no reason you should be so stressed, you'll do great." 

"I guess so. It's just..." Y/N trailed off, trying to muster up an excuse to have him start talking about her mother. Her mother might be the key to discovering her abilities. Even if it was not, it was a good place to start. 

But, the thought of her mother broke her heart. It had been years since Y/N had felt her touch. 

"Can you talk about Mom?" She blurted. 

The mention of her stiffened his posture. "Is that why you're upset?"

"I'm starting to forget her, dad." Her first utterance was the truth. She couldn't remember what her mother's smile looked like, or what her hug felt like. Y/N knew her features were similar to the woman who gave birth to her, but even so, she wanted to know which ones. Just gazing at their pictures stirred up regret and sadness. 

"A-And I have an English project where we need to compare our parents to the parents in the book."

"Oh." His forehead wrinkled with confusion. Y/N felt culpable, yet again. 

"What do you want to know?" He took a sip of his coffee. 

"I want to know about her family. Why don't we talk to them anymore? Where are they?"

"And you're trying to tell me this is part of your English project?" He could see right through her lies. Yet he didn’t seem annoyed or irritated, instead amusement wrinkled the corners of his eyes. 

Y/N faltered, looking sheepish. "Y-Yes?" She grinned. 

"You can ask me anything about your mother Y/N, it makes sense you'd be curious about her. If you're afraid of hurting me, it's okay. I’ve had a lot of time to cope with it.” 

She smiled. 

"Shoot." He encouraged. "I'll answer to the best of my ability." 

To corroborate her previous statement, Y/N pulled out her phone to pretend she was actually taking down notes for her school project. "I want to brush up on the basics. What was her favorite meal to make?" 

"Frikadeller." He chuckled at the memory. "Those meatballs you used to hork down. I'm surprised you even tasted them." 

"They were good." Y/N grinned. "Why was it her favorite?" 

"Because it was yours." 

Y/N felt tears stinging her eyes. They were only talking about happy memories, but any memory of her mother was followed by the fact that she would never see her again. 

"Do we still have the recipe?" Her throat was tight. 

"Of course. I still have everything." 

The girl nodded, wondering it was even possible to learn to cook as well as her mother had. Even if she couldn't, she needed to carry on something. Perhaps learning about her was a way of moving on, even if it hurt. 

Y/N decided to change the subject.

"What about grandma... What was her name?" She wracked her brain for some sort of memory. "I feel like we haven't seen any of mom's side of the family." 

"Her name is Ragnild. She lives in Denmark, that's why we never see her." 

"Oh..."

"I have her number. I can give it to you if you're interested. I just didn't think you were." 

"I guess I'm just feeling nostalgic. I wanna know where my roots are." 

"Well" Mr. L/N chuckled. "You know where half of you is from." 

"I know, I know." She smiled. "It was just odd, only hearing about your family. Was mom not close with hers?" 

"Not really." He admitted. "Your grandmother is kind of crazy." 

Y/N cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "How so?" She asked, even though she had a feeling she already knew the answer to it. Probably something to do with magical powers, and glowing lights. 

"Why don't you call her for yourself?"

She stared at her father. "Would that even be a good idea?"

"I think so." He shrugged his shoulders. Y/N could tell he was trying very hard to hold his laughter in. 

"Seriously dad, you have to tell me." 

"She's very superstitious. That's all I'm gonna say." His tone was firm. "I didn't know her very well." 

"What about other family members? Where are they?" 

"Scattered around the earth. Her family seems to live everywhere, that's why you never see them. They move so often I couldn't keep track, so I stopped trying." Her father grew slightly annoyed. Not at her, but at the mention of a family that wouldn't settle down. "The last time I saw any of them was at the funeral. Besides that, I've heard nothing. They rarely update Facebook. It's strange." 

Judging by the look on his face, he did not seem to find it that strange. 

Y/N knew better than that. She knew that deep down, he did still care. When her mother passed, all that was left was a hole. And the absence of her extended family must have been tough to deal with. Because there was such a disparity, it took that much longer to heal. It had been five years and it was still heartbreaking to mention her name. 

Especially since Y/N was around, as a constant reminder of the woman he used to love. She looked exactly like her. 

"But if I'm being honest, I think you should call your grandmother. She would love it." 

"I might just do that." Y/N cleared her thoughts, moving on to the next topic now that she had the connection she needed. She could only do so much crying over her dead mother. 

The father and daughter talked well into the night until Y/N had to feign tiredness. With a goodnight kiss on the cheek, she left his side and wished him a serene shift; which they both knew was a rare occasion. 

Y/N slumped down on her bed and cuddled the sheets. Sleep was tempting, but her mind was racing. She hadn't patrolled in a few days, and it was about time. The animals needed her. Perhaps being in the field may reveal some secrets she needed answered. 

Her phone buzzed with a text.

The teenager rolled over in her bed and grabbed it. Her father had texted her. 

Papa: > Call her tomorrow. 

With a contact attachment. Ragnild Lykke. 

Y/N did not know what to feel. She could be brave, and hopefully get some insight from a superstitious old woman; or she could continue to search aimlessly for someone to help. Someone who didn't know her family history. 

Frustrated, she set her phone aside and waited quietly for her father to leave. That could wait for tomorrow. Right now she had to worry about the streets... and about Spider-Man. 

She had to tell him what happened. But how could she even contact him?

Y/N’s eyes widened. She had his number now, she could reach him whenever she needed. 

Y/N blushed, but only slightly. How could she forget? Smirking, she pulled up his contact name, almost laughing out loud when she saw the name he had entered. Web-Head. 

The girl hesitated for a moment, with her finger hovering over the send button. 

Y/N: > Peter, meet me by the water at midnight. It's urgent. 

He replied almost immediately. 

Web-Head: > Roger that.

✭✦✭✦✭

There was no wind tonight, and Y/N was grateful for the tranquility. She could wear her hair down without it blowing in her face. 

Her usual spot on the cliff's edge felt a little more comforting. It was the same as it had always been. She came here, planned out her night, then followed through with it. Hopefully she could save some lives tonight. 

Her eyes unfocused as she stared out on the water. The city lights reflected off the peaceful water, the waves were more calming at this hour, and the water was lower because of the moon. 

"Hey, Y/N." Her name sounded so right on his lips. She turned with a smile to find Peter, his mask off. 

"Thanks for coming." She greeted. "Sit." 

He nodded, joining her side and hanging his legs off the edge. He began to study the ocean just as intently as her. 

Peter could tell something was on her mind. She was agitated and timid. Yet regardless of the contrast from her usual demeanor, his senses prickled by being so close to her. 

"Tell me." He whispered, not having to worry about his voice getting lost in the wind.He could hear every single occurrence now that the wind was gone. It was strange. 

"My powers are getting stronger." Y/N confessed, keeping her gaze outstretched to the dark sea. 

Peter did not say anything for there wasn't a need. Being there with her felt normal, it felt right. It was comfortable, the silence between them. 

He waited for her to speak. He knew how much courage it took to admit such a discovery. 

"I can detect diseases now. I can feel when someone has... cancer." 

"Are you serious?" His eyes widened slightly. 

Y/N nodded. "My hands, they ache when I get close to someone. There was this girl at school, I barely knew her. But my hands, they led me into the bathroom where she was. They didn't stop glowing until I was in talking distance of her. She told me her symptoms, and a voice in the back of my mind was screaming she had Leukemia, so I told her to check with her doctor." She paused, ashamed that she was rambling. It probably made no sense to Peter, but she had to tell someone.

"I forgot about that incident, until today. She found me, and she told me I was right. She has stage one Leukemia." Lelia felt a tear slip down her cheek. She felt guilty. 

"Why are you crying?" He asked, with the most gentle voice she had ever heard. "It's not your fault." 

"Yes, it is. If only I'd taken my powers seriously, I could have saved others. I just could never understand what I was feeling, and why I was drawn to certain people." 

"You have a gift, Y/N. You shouldn't feel obliged to help everyone. You've been going through this alone, it's not your fault." 

Y/N wiped away her tears and laughed lightly. She hadn't expected to start crying in front of him. It was embarrassing. 

"I... You're right." The girl confessed. 

"I struggle with it too." His voice wavered. "It hurts." 

Y/N turned to him. Peter's jaw was clenched, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He meant every word he said. 

"T-Thanks Peter. It feels really nice to talk to you." 

He met her gaze, his eyes conveying to her that he felt it too. 

The intensity of his stare caused her to avert her gaze. Y/N began to nervously play with her coat sleeves, blinking away the last of her tears. 

Peter watched for a moment. He studied the way she bit her lip softly when she debated what to say. Y/N was quite reserved, and seemed to put great thought into the words she shared. So when she stuttered like he used to, he could immediately tell it was serious. 

"A-Anyways. I was going to go patrolling tonight. Or whatever you want to call it." She chuckled at herself. "I'd like it if you came with me." 

Peter smiled. "You mean you want me to come dog-napping with you?" 

"It's not called dog-napping when they are being abused. Plus it's not just dogs." Her eyes rolled slightly, yet a faint smirk was detectable. 

"Normally, I would be down for it. But not tonight." 

"Why?" 

Peter looked reluctant. "I got reports from Mr. Stark. The Thorns are becoming a big problem, Y/N. He's only paying attention to them now because they've gotten their hands on some pretty hefty equipment." 

"Such as?" 

"I'm not exactly sure, weapons made from alien debris left over from the invasion." He said. 

"Well I bet you can catch them." She leaned back on her arms, swinging her feet back and forth. She was thankful for the secluded spot along the platform. Though it was dangerous and considered trespassing, it remained her place to come think. And now, she had finally revealed it to another. It had an incredible view of the bay, the lights from downtown glimmering against the water’s surface. 

But now, finally becoming aware of the danger that had infested the city, the silence that filled the dimly lit streets was starting to become eerie. 

Peter noticed it too. 

"If you're going to bust them tonight, can I come with you?" She questioned to regain his attention. 

"Uh," He shifted nervously, crossing his legs. "I don't think that's a good idea." 

"Why not?" Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't angry, though her face most likely showed that. 

"Cause... um." He looked away. 

Seeing him so flustered was kind of refreshing. "You can be honest with me." Y/N urged. 

"I-I don't want you to get hurt." He said without looking at her. 

"I have powers, Peter." She said matter of factly. "Remember?" 

His gaze was still focused on the abyss in front of them. The ocean was the best distraction. "But not fighting powers, if you know what I mean." He tried to say as nicely as possible. 

"I do." She pondered, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. "But I'm still coming." 

He snapped towards her. "I thought I just convinced you not to!" 

Her laugh was lighthearted. "I already made up my mind, web-head." 

"Ooohh." He tilted his head back in laughter. "I see how it is." 

Y/N pushed herself up from the ground. It was time to move on and stop moping. It was time to do something important. 

Peter stood up as well. He held his mask by his side, about to put it on—until Y/N snatched it from his grip. 

"Hey!" He whisper-yelled, a little too lazy to try and get it back when she moved away. Peter was enjoying her teasing nature. It was normal, and reminded him of his best friend Ned. 

Y/N held the mask behind her back, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

"I told you I prefer you with the mask off." She stopped jogging around him. "At leash until the fight starts." 

He closed the gap between them. The cold air ceased as he towered over her. "Who says there's going to be a fight?" 

Peter reached for his mask, but grabbed her hand instead. He felt her delicate skin instead of the silky material he'd become so accustomed to. His heartbeat quickened at the contact. The feeling of her gentle touch was one he wanted to keep close,  one that he was determined to protect. 

Peter reached for her other hand. Y/N gladly obliged, breathless. 

He was being so sweet, the girl could not help but freeze. 

Am I crazy for wanting more? She pondered. 

Peter relished in the moment for as long as he could. The sight of her reddening cheeks gave him a boost of confidence. 

Y/N was gorgeous, as always. How could he say no to her? 

"You can come with, but you're staying out of the fight. I won't let you get hurt." Peter held her hands in his. They were so gentle, so soft. How could these hands hold such an unexplainable power? 

Y/N closed her eyes in peace. His touch, his company, was too good to be true. There was no way he felt the same. 

Regardless, Y/N gathered the courage to stand on her tip-toes, and whisper in his ear—

"That better be a promise." Before pressing her lips gently on his cheek.

✭✦✭✦✭

Tag List! (lmk if you want to be taken off or added) 

@spn-assemble-seven​ @eridanuswave​  @fallisflame​  @used-avocado​  @pluckypete​  @vanillanestor​  @averyfosterthoughts​  @wherewecomealive​  @magicalturmoil​  @lust-for-pan​  @keep-bears-wild​  @selintugmen​  @undiadeestos​  @eridanuswave​  @unknownsolarsystems​  @ineedabifriend​  @silver-winter-wolf​  @alioop3818

[werewolfdays]

Touch prompt 1 and 24 ???🥺🥺👉👈

here, have some Christmas time fluff!!! 

1. With love:

I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when I felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around my torso. Nadya leaned heavily into me, resting her head on the back of my shoulder, and I knew without asking that she was still mostly asleep. I was kind of surprised she was awake at all right now. Even planned to let her sleep in for as long as she liked today. 

I chuckled and spit out some toothpaste into the bathroom sink, “Didn’t think I would see you up and around for at least another few hours.” 

“It’s Christmas.” She mumbled drowsily, “I always get up early for Christmas.” 

“That’s good to know.” I mused and continued to brush my teeth while Nadya used my body to keep herself upright. 

Her hands worked their way under my sweater and the heat of my skin made her melt into me further. If she wasn’t careful, Nadya would become a puddle against me, but she kept herself busy with tracing some of the scars across my abdomen. Each gentle touch laced with her silent love. She hummed calmly, pressing her forehead to the back of my neck. I had to admit that her presence was drawing me in even more after each passing heartbeat. It was getting increasingly harder to remember what I was doing. 

“You’re so warm.” She murmured, swaying gently with me.

“So are you.” I said after I finished up and put my toothbrush aside. 

I carefully twisted myself around in her arms so I could face her. Nadya’s perfect brown eyes met mine and I wanted nothing more than to drown in them. She continued to lean against me, her hands wandering up and down my back and sides in lazy caresses. Unable to hold back from touching her too, I reached up to brush some of her messy hair behind her ear and rest my palm against her cheek. I saw, as well as felt, her face flush and she tilted her head into my touch while she looked at me adoringly.   

“Not as warm as you.” 

“There’s more than one way to be warm, my love.” 

We both leaned in at the same time, our lips meeting each other halfway. There wasn’t anything particularly deep about the way we were kissing right now, in fact, our cadence was more reserved than anything else, but the depth of passion I could always feel from her took me off guard every time. Our strokes were as soft as she was, as warm as our skin on skin contact underneath my sweater. Even if I was able to kiss her like this forever, it wouldn’t be enough. Nadya’s arms wrapping around me tighter made me think she felt the same way. 

When we inevitably broke away from each other, I rested my lips on the spot between her eyebrows, holding her to me for just a few moments longer. I felt her breathless sigh against my neck and wondered how I ever went without loving her as much as I do. 

No part of me wanted to, but I pulled away, “You want to go have some coffee by the fire in the Den?”

She nodded, her arms slowly disentangling from me, but not fully breaking contact yet. “Can I have this?” She asked while tugging at the bottom of my sweater. 

I gave her an amused eye roll and nodded with a crooked grin, “Go on, take it.” 

Nadya happily pulled the cozy sweater over my head and put it on with a grin that I never would have been able to refuse. After a grateful peck, she switched places with me at the sink and I went to retrieve something new to wear from the closet. 

The Lodge itself was at its most barren during the holidays as the least desperate wolves tried to be with their own packs, but there were still some permanent residents lingering around the cozy corners of the Den with what little companionship they had. Fresh blankets of snow outside, with frost clinging to the edges of the tall windows, and a big Christmas tree standing next to the fireplace gave the common space that special festive feeling. Nadya lit up when she saw it, which made me smile. 

Skye perked up from her spot on one of the couches when we approached, “Ugh, finally!” 

I watched her jump to her feet and practically skip over to the Christmas tree while Nadya and I got comfortable on our usual couch. Toby brought us fresh cups of coffee and Skye handed out gifts like an excited kid. A huge part of me was glad to see that she still had the same amount of excitement for the holiday as she did when we were little. 

Skye was immediately drawn to the fancy origami paper Nadya got for her and it didn’t take her long to start going wild with it on the coffee table. Soon it was like a mini paper zoo had taken over the table. All sorts of intricately folded animals surrounding her busy hands.

Nadya, on the other hand, was already several pages deep into a novel Toby had gifted her, one that they had talked about a couple weeks earlier. She was lying comfortably against me on the couch, her back resting on my chest, sitting in between my legs. I tried to track the words over her shoulder, but she read too fast for me. Still, I enjoyed her closeness more than anything, though I did eye the campfire cookbook she got for me. Ideas were already brewing in my brain for our next camping trip. 

Toby went straight for the bar when he saw he had some new fancy equipment to work with when making drinks. It was kind of funny to see him handing out cocktails to anyone that would take them this early in the morning. He only took a break to serve us some tamales his family made and delivered to him as a Christmas gift. Another year had gone by and I still couldn’t get the family recipe from his mother, though I refused to give up trying my own spin on the dish with Toby’s help. 

This was starting to be one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. Definitely the best one I’ve had since before my parents died. I honestly didn’t think I would ever be able to achieve the kind of peace the holiday used to give me again, but having the love of my life happily in my arms, and my pack content, was more than I could have dreamed of. 

My eyes did keep traveling to the last little gift hidden under the tree, wondering if Nadya would eventually notice it. It was small and thin enough to be missed by Skye and her enthusiasm for presents, so I knew that Nadya, being as engrossed in her book as she was, probably wouldn’t realize it was there any time soon. 

I pressed a kiss to the side of her head to get her attention, “What’s that?” I asked into her hair while pointing to where the tiny present was waiting. 

Nadya followed the line of my finger until she finally saw it. Then she glanced back at me over her shoulder, “Is that for me?” 

“Mhm.” I confirmed. 

She hesitated, chewing on her lip as she eyed the gift. I was wondering what she was contemplating when she spoke to my sister, who was the closest to the tree, “Skye?”

“What?” Skye asked, slowly looking up from her work. She turned to where Nadya was pointing and we both realized that Nadya was just too comfortable to get up for her present. I smirked when Skye’s shoulders slumped as she returned her exasperated gaze to my girlfriend, “Seriously?”

“Please?” 

I fixed my little sister with a swift glare when her eyes met mine, urging her to do as Nadya requested. She sighed and stood up to retrieve what Nadya wanted before happily returning to her origami. 

Nadya thanked her and examined the skinny box in her hands that was wrapped in festive paper with a neatly tied bow. I must have wrapped the damn thing half a dozen times to get it to look right. After she took a moment to admire the work I put into it, she carefully unwrapped the gift. Once the sleek box was free of the paper, she flipped it open to reveal the necklace inside.

A small gasp left her lips as she held the chain up to get a better look at the pendant. The casted seal stamp glimmered in the firelight as it lightly swung in the air back and forth. The design had a small wolf standing atop a mountain and howling at the moon, and a small banner curved at the top, showcasing a Latin phrase in letters barely big enough to read. 

The pendant came to rest in her palm and I cradled her hand in mine, brushing my thumb over the words, “‘I Struggle and Emerge.’” I translated quietly, letting my thumb explore the rest of her palm, “This is a symbol of strength.” 

“It’s beautiful.” Nadya marveled. 

“I told you I would get you a necklace that wouldn’t burn me.” 

“You did.” She said with amusement while thumbing the pendant like I had. Then she placed it in my hand, “Will you put it on me?”

I smiled and accepted the pendant, using my other hand to brush her hair out of the way. My arms came around her and then I brought the separated clasps together at the back of her neck, hooking them and letting my hands come to rest on her shoulders. Nadya looked down at the necklace resting on her chest and took a moment to hold it like it was her most prized possession. My heart sang even more when she looked back at me again in gratitude. 

“Thank you, Jay.” She told me softly. 

I let the back of my finger brush her cheek, knowing that there’s no way a single touch or a single gift could ever convey how much I loved her, but I hoped she could sense it anyway, “Merry Christmas, Nadya.” 

“Merry Christmas.” She replied, resting back against me once more when I pressed a kiss to her temple.

24. To say hello:

My boots crunched into the fresh snow as it flurried all around me before coming to rest on the ground, culminating in mounds of pure white powder. All of the pines in sight looked like they had been dusted with sugar and my breath came out in visible puffs before me. There was something so magical about a forest during the winter time, something that even the biting cold couldn’t make me hate. 

I paused too many times to count to take dozens of photographs with all of the new film I received yesterday for Christmas. This was such a peaceful and perfect day. All I missed was Jayde, but she had to go back to her patrol duties today, no matter how hard I tried to convince her to take another day off with me. I would see her later though and that was enough for me. Plus, I wouldn’t bore her by dragging her around to take all of these pictures. 

A particularly cold breeze made me shiver. I adjusted the beanie on my head and wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck in an effort to conserve some body heat. While I was doing that, I heard a snap of a twig somewhere off to my right. My steps faltered as I listened for more, but the forest fell quiet, so my eyes searched for any movement that I couldn’t hear. There didn’t seem to be anything, even with me staring off into the misted woods for several long moments. 

Unsure whether or not I should be nervous, I continued onwards. It was probably only a deer or some small critter. Other werewolves usually stayed far away from me when they were in their wolf forms, not wanting to make me feel unsafe or face Jayde’s over protectiveness. Of course, that didn’t mean I would never accidentally come across someone’s path eventually. I kept my eyes and ears peeled just in case. 

My peaceful surroundings consumed me again, so many beautiful sights ranging from minute details on the side of the trail to grand landscape scenes that broke through some of the trees, showing miles and miles of snow-covered mountains. It made me think of the present Jayde gave me yesterday. I reached for the necklace, smiling when my fingers found it peeking through my scarf. The freezing air made the metal pendant cold to the touch, but I didn’t mind. I just wanted to be reminded of the best gift I’ve ever received. 

Another rustle in the woods behind me made my head snap around. This time, I was positive that whatever or whoever it was had to know I was here, and they weren’t trying to avoid me. I backed away from the sound, trying not to be alarmed by the presence. 

“I can hear you.” I called out, “Do you need something?” 

There wasn’t an answer. And there wasn’t any movement out there. 

I continued to back up while I searched my surroundings for any sign of someone. Just as I was starting to get uneasy, the back of my legs connected with something large and soft. I hopped forward with a startled yelp and flipped myself around to see Jayde in her wolf form standing there with her tail wagging and her tongue lolling out in a wolfish grin. She had been messing with me the whole time. 

“Are you serious?” I yelled at her through a laugh. 

Jayde sat on her haunches, looking proud of herself. The color of her fur blended so perfectly with the snow around her that she probably didn’t even have to try all that hard to be stealthy. There’s no way I would have been able to spot her from a distance. 

“You scared me, you know.” 

She gave me a teasing bark and leapt towards me. Her massive wolf body playfully tackled mine into the built up powder on the ground. I started laughing while her snout poked me in all of my ticklish spots, trying to wrestle her head away. A growl rumbled in her chest when I grabbed her muzzle and clamped it shut with my hands. 

“What are you gonna do now?” I challenged. 

I held on tighter when she tried to shake me off, forcing her to use one of her giant paws to pry my hands off of her. I took advantage of the fact that she had to be gentle with me, shrugging her claws away from my arms. Knowing that she was at a disadvantage, Jayde growled even more menacingly in my face, but I wasn’t deterred in the slightest. I simply raised one of my eyebrows and placed a quick kiss to her forehead. That shut her up fast. 

Once she shook it off, she snorted indignantly and plopped herself down right on top of me, effectively pinning me to the ground and further into the pile of freezing snow. It reminded me of the way large dogs sometimes don’t understand that they aren’t lap dogs. I lied there groaning for a few seconds before her weight was too much. 

“Alright, alright. Truce?” I suggested in a strained voice.

Jayde gave a single nod and stood up at the same time I released her muzzle. I sat up and shook my head at her with an exasperated grin. She stared right back at me with glowing amber eyes, her tail still wagging, and waited. 

“Well, hello.” I giggled and held my arms out. 

The white wolf immediately fell into my embrace, nuzzling against my head and knocking my beanie askew. I ran my hands through her fur, enjoying the softness and the insulated warmth of her wolf form. She was definitely built for this kind of weather. It made me want to find a spot and curl up with her because I could feel the melting snow begin to soak into my clothes. I shivered again, my teeth chattering, and pulled her closer, which resulted in a concerned grumble from her. 

“Maybe we should head home soon. I think I’m in the mood for a hot bath.” I said. 

Jayde leaned back to cock her head curiously at me. Then she stood up and gently bit my sleeve to pull me to my feet. I laughed at her sudden enthusiasm and gladly started to follow her back to the Lodge where we could get nice and cozy together for the rest of the day.

[goobergamer]

Welcome to the Real World, Chpt. 4/?

Summary: ‘The real world’ is Marine Corps slang referring to civilian life after discharge.

Or, Washington, new and struggling veteran, moves into a duplex where he has a strange and surly neighbor with a penchant for the color red. (Sargington modern war vets AU)

Pairing: Sarge/Washington (Red vs. Blue)

Warnings: Alcohol use in this chapter

First chapter on Tumblr here: (x). Also crossposted to AO3.

Wash is a chronic homebody rapidly chewing through the books on his shelf and the TV shows he can stand to be semi-present for. The phone never rings when he’s there, but he still can’t help and check every morning and night hoping the voicemail light will have come on.

He’s pretty sure he saw a couple of his teammates when he was taken in by the medical team, half-coherent. No one has been in touch since, through his care or discharge. He’s not sure what he expects them to say. Wish you were here, xoxo? Sorry you’ve cracked? (He’s not crazy.) Thanks for compromising the mission, asshole? How could you have fucked up so badly?

Wash isn’t sure. But he thinks he’d take any of it over the dead light and the dial tone.

---

It just keeps getting hotter as they approach midsummer, and one day when Wash steps outside straight into a wall of humidity, Sarge joins him only to suggest that he come inside for coffee so they don’t just up and die on the porch from the weather.

Wash is pleasantly surprised when Sarge gives him a tour of the downstairs space; it’s cluttered, but not a junk pile as he may have guessed. Rather, the home looks lovingly lived-in. A card table is open in the corner of the living room, with parts and tools for some sort of electronics project scattered across it. The TV stand is covered in small piles of DVDs; at quick glance Wash sees serious war documentaries mingling with old family sitcoms.

Of course, it still shows little signs of Sarge’s quirkiness beyond the multiple locks on the door. Despite the gun cabinet standing against the wall with his scarlet beret sitting atop it, there’s a shotgun casually leaned up against the coffee table that Wash only hopes has the safety on. Everything that can come in different colors is red in Sarge’s apartment; upholstery, painted wood, you name it. There’s a strawberry Yoo-hoo balanced on the couch armrest, and Wash halfway wonders if the flavor was chosen to fit the color scheme.

They take their coffee on very red chairs at the very red table in the kitchen. Sarge is polite enough to only harass Wash for two straight minutes about how he takes his coffee (“Washington, without sugar you’ll have no energy to defend yourself!” “Defend myself from what?”) The new location doesn’t change much until Wash asks, “Which way to your bathroom? Is your side of the duplex the same as mine?”

“Flipped. Upstairs to the left.”

When Wash walks into the bathroom, it takes him a moment to register what’s off. At first he thinks Sarge had installed a full-size towel rack above the sink, but after stepping closer, he sees that a bath towel has simply been strung across the medicine cabinet to cover it.

He remembered, Wash realizes. He remembered the mirror.

Something in his throat tightens, almost imperceptibly. It was a small, simple gesture, but an appreciated one all the same, at a time when the world feels minimal in its kindness.

---

When Wash hears a knock on his door early one evening, he only pauses a moment before opening it without the chain in place, having an easy enough guess of who it will be. “Hey, Sarge. Something you need?”

Sarge is leaning against the doorframe all too casually, an atypical grin splitting his face in two. “Washington, when was the last time you went out anywhere?”

Wash pauses for a moment, thinking. “I go running every day? Beyond that, I picked up groceries three days ago.”

Sarge switches battle tactics. “When was the last time you went somewhere to do something fun?”

Wash has a sinking, suspicious feeling he knows the ballpark where this is heading. “...I don’t mind grocery shopping.”

“...Well, that answers that.” Sarge chuckles. He doesn’t seem too surprised. Wash supposes he can’t really be insulted; a serious answer to Sarge’s question would have been ‘on shore leave over a year ago’.

“There’s a legion a couple towns over,” Sarge continues. “A few of the guys I know are catching up there tonight! There will be drinks! General merriment! And YOU are cordially invited!”

“I wouldn’t know any of the people there.”

“I can introduce ya’!”

Wash knows that Sarge isn’t the type to take no for an answer when his mind is set on something. And he has to acknowledge that he has become a hermit in the months since his discharge, to an unsustainable extent. At some point he’ll have to reconnect with the real world. May as well do it with a friend to guide him. “Alright, fine.”

“That’s the spirit!”

They take Sarge’s Ford, a decades-spanning oddity; the truck itself is from the 70’s, but has a new high-tech radio system Sarge says he installed himself. The radio will only tune into an obnoxious polka station from god knows where and which Sarge will claim no fault in his installation process for. The drive is still nice with the windows rolled low, Sarge resting his elbow on the sill as he steers with one hand, Wash turning in his seat so the early evening sun shines down on his face.

They’re quickly hailed by a chorus of both greetings and heckling from a far table when Sarge leads the way into the Legion. There’s one chair left open for Sarge when they approach, but he grabs another one from an empty table and plants it next to his own for Wash, the nearest guy shuffling over to make more space.

“Men, this is Washington,” Sarge announces when they’ve settled in. Wash receives some amicable nods and hello’s from the ensemble; apparently Sarge doesn’t think more introduction is necessary, and neither do they. “Washington, this is Tucker, Caboose, Donut, Lopez, Simmons, and Grif.” There’s a surly element to his tone when he introduces the last one, who seems unperturbed, just offering Wash a late “‘Sup?” before some earlier conversation picks back up.

Wash takes the time to examine the group unnoticed, observing that they look ragtag in more ways than one. They’re all young, younger than Wash, though it's not always easy to tell under the scars; the majority of this group look like they had to physically claw their way out of warzones. Wash can pick out four prosthetics between what he can see of just two of the people at the table, and with the extent of Lopez’s, he might guess prosthetic legs were hidden out of sight too. Grif and...Donut? sport some major scarring visible above the table. Grif’s scars, a layer of patchworks across his cheek and down one arm, look too clean to be from anything in-field; skin grafts, maybe? With Donut’s ear and eye gone, and the side of his nose and lips halfway there, it’s easy to assume that he took something hard straight to the face.

“—Before I can catch whatever gave Private Pinhead that stroke of inspiration, I’m going to get a drink!” Sarge huffs, brushing off a conversation with Grif to rise. “You want something, Washington?”

“Oh, I—whatever you’re getting is fine. Thanks.” Wash reaches for his wallet to offer him payment for the drink, but Sarge has already moseyed over to the bar.

“So, Washington, how do you know Sarge?” Simmons asks, all attention now turning to the new guy.

“He’s my neighbor.”

“Man, that sucks,” Tucker replies, though obviously without true rancor.

“Could be worse. He could live next to Donut,” Grif says.

“Hey!”

“That’s right, has Lopez gotten his insurance pay back after that fire yet?”

“No.”

“Hey, I said sorry, I didn’t think a hair dryer could overheat like that! I guess I’d been doing too much blowing.”

Amidst a chorus of groans, Sarge returns with a pina colada in each hand. “Can’t believe the bartender didn’t card me! They’re supposed to card anyone under forty.”

“And why would they card you, again?” Wash asks as he takes one of the drinks. Sarge’s efforts to convince Wash that he’s some ludicrous age are drowned out by amused laughter from others at the table.

The longer Wash is there with them, the more he feels himself settling into the rhythm of the conversation, becoming comfortable enough to laugh and joke along. By the end of the night, he’s been wrapped up into a number of ridiculous and crazy anecdotes that tell him two things: Sarge surrounds himself only with those that are as insane as himself, and that Wash has had the best night in as many weeks despite his hesitation before he came.

“They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots,” Sarge says fondly in the car on the way home.

“I can see why. They’re good guys.”

“We’re there every week. Just let me know if you want to come along again.” Washington looks at Sarge, but Sarge is cheerfully watching the road as he says it.

It’s an unexpected offer, but certainly not unwelcome as he thinks about the dark apartment he’s about to return to. Remembering the warmth of the rum and the night’s festivities is a strong pull. “I just might take you up on that.”

[24hour-blues]

all the ones you haven't answered yet? i'm sorry you're sad💙

thank you, that's very sweet. i hope you're doing alright 💛

1. when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? - more milk. i always end up putting too much.

2. do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? - yes

3. what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? - library receipts, post-its, junk mail, pencils

5. are you self-conscious of your smile? - i think it’s one of the few things i’m not self-conscious about, actually. i like my smile.

8. what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? - writing, often poetry but sometimes prose. i like creating playlists, too, and singing.

9. do you like singing/humming to yourself? - yeah, i sing to myself all the time. whatever song i have stuck in my head at the moment.

10. do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? - side, but very occasionally my stomach.

12. what’s your favorite planet? - jupiter

14. if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? - lots of pillows and blankets of all types. succulents and cacti on the windowsills. wooden utensils and dark cabinets in the kitchen. a breakfast bar with stools that don’t match. rugs with funky patterns. a big, soft couch in a bright color that you can sink into. a small balcony with fold-out chairs. rows of mugs and barely any plates. the bathroom crowded with makeup and skin products, writing on the mirror in blue marker. beds never made. a guitar in the corner of the sitting room.

15. go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! - there are more trees on earth than stars in the milky way

16. what’s your favorite pasta dish? - angel hair pasta with puttanesca sauce

18. tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. - i can’t think of anything...

19. do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? - everything. sometimes it’s big things, sometimes small. my fears and what i’m in love with. regrets. shame. hope.

20. what’s your favorite eye color? - grey

21. talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. - idk if it’s really my favorite, but my current backpack took me all through college and it’s good for storing stuff or using as an overnight bag. it’s from timberland and is a nice earthy brown with a flap over the top. lots of pockets.

22. are you a morning person? - i can be

23. what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? - make breakfast and tea. read or watch a movie that makes me rethink everything

25. what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? - a school, i think?

26. what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? - i haven’t had them forever, but i wear my doc martens with everything. i used to wear plain white keds with everything.

27. what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? - winter green

28. sunrise or sunset? - sunrise

30. think of it: have you ever been truly scared? - yes

31. what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. - i like soft, fluffy socks and ones with fun patterns. i love hiking socks. i don’t wear them to sleep tho.

32. tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. - i went to a waffle house at 5am with a friend and some friends of hers i’d just met on her birthday. we were all really drunk, the food took forever, and it tasted awful, but we were happy and laughing.

33. what’s your fave pastry? - probably a cinnamon roll

35. do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? - i like a good calligraphy pen and new notebooks. i don’t use them often; i feel like i don’t have anything important enough to write.

37. do you like keeping your room messy or clean? - it’s usually clean unless i’m not feeling well. sometimes i get disorganized.

38. tell us about your pet peeves! - overlapping conversations. people interrupting others. loud mouth noises, like chewing or licking. people criticizing my driving. nitpicky comments on my clothes or how i look. being talked about.

39. what color do you wear the most? - black, probably.

41. what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? - how it feels to float by helena fox

42. do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! - nope

43. who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? - i’m not sure

44. when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? - i can’t remember

45. do you trust your instincts a lot? - not really

46. tell us the worst pun you can think of. - i can’t remember it but something about pigeons and being coo-l

47. what food do you think should be banned from the universe? - bacon. i just wanna make people angry.

48. what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? - my dad told me a story once, about when i was a kid. he said that he and i were walking together near the lake in the neighborhood across from mine. i was holding his hand, and i said to him that this was the happiest time in my life because i wouldn't be the same when i grew out of being a child. i think i have the same fear now--that i'll never be that happy again.

49 do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

- i like records but i only have one. it's an album by ccr. i really like them

50. what’s an odd thing you collect?

- beer bottle caps

52. what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

- maybe those "girl..." text posts that just say stupid shit

53. have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

- watched them all but pulp fiction. i don't really remember heathers at all

55. what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?

- lets not talk about that

57. go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

- not in the mood sorry

58. who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? - bri is wine mom. quincy and i are vodka aunt.

60. do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

- yes but i rarely remember favorites. i read so much and feel it then forget all the words

61. what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?

- someone gave me a rock once. i get too nervous to give stupid gifts

62. do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

- orange or cranberry

63. are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

- i'm more fussy about music than books, but i do like my books organized. i like them worn in and well-read tho, not in perfect shape.

64. what color is the sky where you are right now?

- a fuzzy, light blue-grey. it's snowing

65. is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with?

- a few

66. what would your ideal flower crown look like?

- lots of green leaves in all different shapes and sizes. tiny white and blue flowers.

67. how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

- isolated and insignificant. safe

68. what’s winter like where you live?

- cold, grey, snowy.

69. what are your favorite board games?

- idk if i really too many board games. maybe cranium. i like puzzles more

71. what’s your favorite kind of tea?

- honey vanilla chamomile

72. are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?

- yea and even then i forget.

73. what are some of your worst habits?

- i give up too easily

74. describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

- excitable. emotional. so very smart. creative as all hell. self-conscious where they shouldn't be. never runs out of words in the best way. loves to share.

75. tell us about your pets!

- my dog shiver is turning into a little old man, but he still acts like a puppy. he likes attention and whines to communicate. he'll greet you at the door and put his front paws on your thighs to say hi. follows you all around the house. loves to cuddle.

- my pigeon spirit is young and vocal. she coos for attention. when i go to sleep, she grunts every time i move to ask where i am and if i'm okay. i take showers with her and sit on the tile; she puffs up right into my side and sticks her wings out for me to splash water on her. she likes to be close to me to get neck scritches and push her head into my neck and preen every bit of me she can.

76. is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

- a lot probably

77. pink or yellow lemonade?

- limeade

78. are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

- i dunno they're cute

80. what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

- it's white wallpaper with pink roses along the top and ribbons of pink and green striped vertically. my mom chose it before i was born.

81. describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

- they sort of remind me of dark water where everything is reflected back in it--not just the sky but the trees and people walking--and they make you want to look closer because you know there's something in there, it's not just a reflection, like flat glass. but it's hidden until you dio your hand in the pictures broken.

82. are/were you good in school?

- pretty good

83. what’s some of your favorite album art?

- i don't look at albums

85. do you read comics? what are your faves?

- not really, but watchmen is one of my favorites.

86. do you like concept albums? which ones?

- dunno

88. are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

- um. idrk. i like whatever monet was doing.

91. where do you plan on traveling this year?

- maybe michigan

92. are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

- i like cheese

93. what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?

- i just kind of. let it do whatever.

94. who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

- my uncle

95. what are your plans for this weekend?

- honestly have no clue

96. do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

- put them off until windows tells me it's restarting the computer in five minutes

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

- mb

98. when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

- in college with jacob, although i wouldn't really call it joking. we just walked through a state park. it was beautiful.

100. if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

- idk. i feel like i'd make the same mistakes if i went back, but the future scares me.

[szopenhauer]

Think of a movie and now give me that movie title: random Elvira: Mistress of the Dark 

Quote a line from that movie:

Name a song: random MARUV & Boosin — I Want You 

What’s a line from that song? Baby turn me, turn me on All night long What’s the last word spelled backwords of that line? GNOL XD Whats the relationship between you and the last person you texted? my fiancee What would your name be if you replaced T’s with S’s & A’s with E’s? Zuzenne Would you ever legally change you name to that? nah Your boyfriend/girlfriend say they can’t hang out & it’s been two weeks. You? ok How often do you think about death? all the time Where were you when you had your first sleepover? Your house or a friends’? friend’s - P.W.

Are you hungry?: thirsty

What did you buy last time you went to the store?: food? bread not food? trinkets - for example - two books and a tiny stuffed dog

Do you think stained glass windows are pretty?: I don’t know tbh

Are you a chocoholic?: not at all

Have you ever been carded when buying something? : not even when I was buying cigarettes

Do you have a favorite highlighter color?: yellow

Do you have a flashlight?: I do

Do you like watermelon?: nah

Has anyone ever walked in on you while you were on the toilet?: obvi, many times but usually just family members

Do you like a lot of ice in your drinks?: noooo

Have you ever painted a room?: bathroom Have you ever petted a donkey? from what I remember

Out of all 24 hours, which one is your favourite? hmm... Have you ever been in a lighthouse? nope

What time are you planning on going to bed tonight? no idea Have you ever been bit by an animal? yeah Did it rain today? kinda What was the name of the last dog you pet? it was my dog - Łasuch Do you find that you have a certain meal you eat every time you go to certain restaurants? sure Are you constantly judging people? could say so Have you ever had anything stolen from you? sorta Which would you rather, a snowy day, sunny day, rainy day or cloudy day?: cloudy or sunny maybe rainy but definitely not snowy How long have you ever spent away from home? month? Has your luggage ever been lost at the airport? Did you get it back? - About how many times during the night do you wake up from your sleep? few Are there any air fresheners in your house? What kinds? no What scent of candle do you burn the most? we don’t For what reason did you last cry? ugh... What kind of surveys do you wish there were more of? deep

Last time you were attacked by an animal? this summer? Are you paranoid all the time or just during the night? more often during the day actually  Have you ever dated someone without knowing their name? last name, not first, I was a stupid kid and was dating a guy online once and several boys at camp just to show off somebody likes me that way even tho I wasn’t really interested nor knew anything about those matters

If you go to an all-you-can-eat buffet, how much do you really eat? a tiny bit If you need to ask a question in class do you raise your hand? of course How many times have you been engaged (if any at all)? once, currently Do you have to see something to really believe it? jak niewierny Tomasz - często Have you ever gotten so dehydrated that you passed out? I’m surprised that I didn’t :x If your friend was being cheated on, would you tell them? absolutely Do you always assume the worst? that me indeed Are you sick and tired of life? sadly Have you ever been busted for under age drinking? I wasn’t drinking underage, I still don’t drink  Do you have a picture of you and your lover kissing? 1 and a tik tok Have you witnessed a fight at school? bunch

What is your favorite time of day to run? when I’m late for the bus lmfao

When was the last time you talked to your mom? recently Do your parents crush your dreams? sometimes Did you sleep in today? I didn’t Do you hate sleeping in? I love sleeping in  How late do you consider too late to sleep in? noon, 11am is already late  How long have you had a smartphone? less than 5 years Do you keep lists of names that you like? even tho I don’t want kids :P Have you ever butt-dialed someone? it happened

First letter of the names of everyone you have kissed, like *that*; M.

Do you like going to school sports games? eww, boring Have you ever worn your boyfriend’s clothes? guy from camp gave me his cap for a day Have you ever stolen your sibling’s clothes? I had to wear them when she was growing up, gross Have you ever loved someone and HATED it? later? Do you like Starbucks or would you rather just have water or something? just water lol Have you ever walked into a door before? po maturze zapomniałam, że woźny zamknął drzwi, które się same otwierały i walnęłam w nie, raz przytrzepałam sie w futrynę bo za szybko skręciłam w nocy do pokoju, mama uderzyła mnie drzwiami jak byłam mała i stałam za blisko wejścia dzwoniąc do domu więc spadłam ze schodów, a ojciec stuknął mnie tymi dworcowymi przy wiadukcie i wylałam na siebie sok - to chyba wszystkie przypadki Do you know anyone who’s like, psycho-religious? fanatic? my uncle is one of those Have you ever been stuck on a ski lift? luckily never been there to begin with Do you know who Nancy Sinatra is? ain’t this the gal who sings “those boots were made for walking” or smth like that? Have you ever bought anything from an airport? I wasn’t there so... If I asked you who you were gonna marry a year ago, you would say; omg Do you snore, talk, sleepwalk, or drool? drool at times, sorry also roll/kick around and fart ^^” When you woke up this morning, what was your first thought? I was wondering why Nat fronted If you could start completely over knowing what you do now, would you? possibly

If you drink coffee, do you have a favorite flavor & brand? If so, what? not applicable Have you ever personally known a pair of Conjoined twins? woah What is your first thought when you see people kissing in public? "get a room” Would you ever consider being a professional stunt-person? I have no abilities/skills/health etc for that kind of job and it’s really sad actors get prizes for stunt-ppl’s work

How about a Mailman? my father was and that ruined his body so I doubt it (Besides Hello kitty) Do you have a favorite Sanrio character? If so, Who? Hello Kitty is evil Do you flinch when strangers touch you? don’t touch me! Can you remember the first time you went to a movie theater? I believe Is there something in particular you like to look at photos of? What is it? I have strange interests... Do you actually like the taste of Diet Soda? didn’t try and don’t plan to What brand of toliet paper do you normally use? I don’t give a shit ;) Do the Charmin bears make you feel uncomfortable? xD fact that they’re red makes me uneasy On average, how many cans of soda would you say you drink daily? zero Did/do you ever stick your chewed -up gum under tables? I spat it on grass when I was younger and had stuck it in my hair years before as well but every other gum I trashed properly Can you remember the last thing you watched on the news that upset you? that’s why I avoid news How do you feel about red lipstick, is it whorish? it’s my fav but I no longer use makeup What is your definition of feminism? fighting for equal rights between women and men like pay in workplaces Are you comfortable in shorts? am not So, have you watched that Bob’s Burgers show? Do you like it? fragments 

Do you ever get the feeling you dont belong? always Do you believe actions speak louder than words? good actors will use both ways to lie

If your friend tried to commit suicide infront of you how would you react? how, why, who, when etc. Ever had a rumour spread about you? plenty Have you ever tried to impress someone before? majority of my life and I hate myself for that If someone jumped on your back what would you do? die? If you had a child and they turned out just like you would you be happy? poor kid... If you could choose the gender of your child what gender would you choose? not that I want kids but girl

Name three people you want to meet in Heaven. from those who died or are alive rn?

What could be the theme song of your life? I was taking a quiz today and they gave me Kero Kero Bonito - I'd Rather Sleep

Do you have any embarrassing health issues? :( Who do you wish you could talk to? grandma and/or brother Do you lose or misplace things a lot? very rarely lose, misplace more often but still usually same item like my scissors What was the name of the street you grew up on (if you don’t live there now) I live here! Does it still feel like summer where you live? it’s too cold for that Do you have a Paypal account? I wish Have you ever had a brand or company reach out to you on Instagram? polyvore What is the last thing you purchased from Etsy? I have no bank account to be able to buy stuff there Do you sell on Etsy? I’d like to someday Do you have a favorite aunt, and if so, who is it? aunt Alice Who is your favorite cousin? no one Have you bought next year’s calendar yet? yup What year did/will you turn 30? 2022 What’s a food that you like, but it makes you feel sick? no comment Do you like the name Addison? sounds like a shoe Is there anything that you regret getting rid of? ... Have you ever stood up to a bully? couple of times Do you own striped tights? nude and transparent Have you ever made your own Halloween costume out of clothes from ur closet? yep When was the last time you received a hug? this day Do you have anyone who hugs you regularly? dad? Would you rather have the bottom bunk or top bunk? bottom Window seat or aisle seat? window, aisle if in church  Have you ever thrown up on an airplane? that’s one of the reasons I won’t fly Have you ever seen anyone else throw up on an airplane? that’s another... Have you ever gotten sick in the car? almost Do you still wear clothes from the children’s section? whoops you got me What color is your watch? I need to buy watch for Nat... What color was the last pair of flip-flops you wore? last time I was wearing flip flops was before middle school and they were pink I suppose Were you born in your favorite season? in the worst! Have you eaten oatmeal lately? regularly... Do you enjoy editing photos? if not a snapchat filter selfie then I prefer them “natural” What is your favorite app on your phone? Choices forever! lately I begun playing The arcana and it’s pretty good, Lisa downloaded Addams family mystery mansion or smth but it’s not that cool and I used to play the detective story which was awesome <3  Do you answer your phone every time it rings? hell no Do you like to decoupage things? scrapbooks/collages are way better How many tabs are open on your browser right now? 9 with this one but I forgot to close the background music 

How many times have you had sex within the past two years? Guesstimate? personal How many times in a month do you go to the movies? How much do you spend? not at all

When was the last time you heard thunder? Where were you at anyway? this month? home When was the last time you were in trouble with your parents? If so. it’s complicated Do you know anyone who claims to have the ability to see the future? I have dreams that come true and my parents do, also my gf When you go to the movies, do you actually watch the movies or not? ... what else would I do in the cinema? oh, you mean kiss and such? waste of money Do you love or loathe the Eurovision? I don’t mind it Have you ever wielded a sword? wanna try :D If you were famous would you want a statue or a building names after you? what for Can you erect a tent? hope I didn’t forgot How tall is the tallest person you know? didn’t ask Have you ever ridden a camel? might try What’s your opinion on rats? cute

[water-hates-learning]

nobody knew (and nobody knows)

Crossover with The Magnus Archives podcast because this idea has been bothering me for a while now so I finally just wrote it. Whatever. Not my best work.

Mild spoilers for the end of S1 of The Magnus Archives. Takes place after episodes 39/40 of the podcast. Also contains headcanons, lots of swearing, and the implication that the main EW boys don’t follow the standard laws of time and space. Post The End EW time.

In other words, this is bullshit.

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

"Case number zero-one-one—"

“Six-six-six.”

“Mr. Ritehill, please.”

“Whatever.”

“Statement of Thomas Ritehill, regarding an…unusual trip taken by himself and his companions in January 2007. Statement—” 

“And the shit in 2014.”

“[sigh] Regarding the trip in January 2007 as well as the disturbances on 31st December, 2014. Statement taken direct from subject, 14th November 2016. Interview conducted by Johnathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Before you begin—why are you just now giving a statement?”

“’Cause a bunch of shit went down and somebody needs to hear about it. M’friends don’t wanna talk about it. And if I have to sit on this bullshit by myself anymore I’ll explode.”

“Right. Erm. Statement begins.”

“…now?”

“Yes, now.”

“[mumbling]…can’ believe you’re using a damn tape recorder…what year is this…[sounds of container being unscrewed]”

“Mr. Ritehill—”

“Call me Tom, god. And let a man have his damn vodka. Holy shitake on a sled, lemme just. Fuck. Okay. So, back in 2007, the four of us were bored, right, and Tord—this is when that commie fuck still lived with us—Tord—”

“Full names, please.”

“Christ, okay. Tord Lesion said we should go to Hell. So we did. Just the tourist route, ya know, got to see our personal hells and shit. Won’t bore you with the details. So yeah, me, Tord Lesion, Edd Golding, and Matt Harvice took an elevator to Hell, had a good time, got some souvenirs, and came back. Whatever.

’Cept when we were leaving the…the devil holding the door for the exit said they’d see me in six months. And it was like, haha, mate, yeah, sure, whatever, funny joke. I didn’t mention it to the guys and I didn’t think about it again. Couple months later, Edd’s digging a hole in the back garden and comes up with this door all covered in symbols ‘n stuff. And we’re all a buncha dumbasses so we go down it. Deal with some Indiana Jones traps, beat off a killer mummy, find a mysterious treasure box—you know the drill. So Tord opens the box and then…I dunno. Everything went dark.

If you ask any of the other three, they’d probably just tell you that I was unconscious. They said there was nothin’ in the treasure chest but I’m pretty sure the jackasses kept it for themselves and didn’t tell me. Probably for the best; I just woulda spent it on alcohol.

Anyway, from my perspective, we fell down a hole. When Tord opened the box, the floor dropped out from underneath us and we fell into darkness. I couldn’t see or hear the others, I was just falling in darkness. Or maybe floating. I dunno. Kinda…felt like forever and no time at all. I know that doesn’t make sense but you lot probably hear shit like that all the time. So I’m floating there and it’s dark, pitch black, but I can still see my hands in front of my face, like there’s a light shining only on me but there isn’t a light. Kinda like how someone looks when they stand in front of a black backdrop; the background’s all dark but they’re, like, normally lit or whatever.

And I wasn’t really scared ‘cause it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me. I was just kind of waiting for something to happen. Because something always happens.

Didn’t have to wait long.

I felt something slide its hands around my neck from behind, felt its fingers on my windpipe, its thumbs at the base of my skull. I kind of expected it to be cold, like icy or something. But they were hot, like someone with a fever, uncomfortable. Made my skin prickle. It said…something. Couldn’t tell you what it was now, only have the vaguest sensation of—of a voice, talking to me, right in my ear, hot breath on my skin. I kept thinking I could see it moving out of the corner of my eye but if I tried to turn my head to look, it would start squeezing my neck until it had cut off my air supply.

Sometimes I think I can remember that it had promised me things. Sometimes I think it might have said something about a fight or a war or something. A lot of the time I pretend the whole thing was because I was blackout drunk. But I know that last bit’s not true because I hadn’t been drinking that night. And I wasn’t too worried because, I mean, weird stuff happens to the four of us all the time, stuff that no one even remembers. We’ve been through…three? Zombie apocalypses now? Hell, Matt’s led one of them. All of us have died and come back to life. And—and the thing is, right, the thing is that no one else remembers it. I’m pretty sure there’s stuff that’s happened that we don’t even remember. Tord said somethin’ once about crossing time lines or some shit but I dunno about any of the string theory, philosophical bullshit.

All I know for sure is, that night, in the black that wasn’t dark, with this thing’s hands around my neck, a demon crawled inside me.

A demon crawled inside me and it lives there and it’s so. Fuckin’ angry. Or maybe I’m angry. I don’t know for sure anymore, it’s been too long.

But—[container unscrews, long pause]—mm, anyway. The thing with its hands on my throat somehow—it somehow pries my mouth open. Gets its fingers between my teeth and wrenches my jaw apart so hard it aches. And then there’s this…this purple thing. It looks darker than the black but it’s purple and maybe that’s just because it’s beyond human comprehension or some shit. Hell if I know. It got closer and closer and for the first time in there I was scared. I was fucking scared and I thought—I don’t know what I thought, all I remember for sure is this—this blinding panic. This kind of raw, mind-numbing terror that made my heart beat so hard it hurt and it was hard to breathe and all I could hear was this rushing sound in my ears as this—this cloudy purple thing got closer and closer. I tried to get away but I couldn’t move, I could only sit there and watch.

And it—it…it just…”

“Mr. Ri—sorry. Tom. Do you need a break? We can take a moment to—”

“No. If I don’t…if I don’t say it now—if I leave this room—I’m not comin’ back. And I gotta get this out. [a deep breath, let out slowly] Just…remembering it now…it still scares the shit outta me.

So this cloud thing…it…crawls inside my mouth. And I can feel it. It tastes like…like how ash smells? Or maybe like someone filled my mouth with ash. And embers. Because it was hot and it didn’t exactly burn, it was just—like that moment when you drink some coffee and it’s still hot but not so hot you burn your tongue but still hot enough you gotta sip it. You know what I mean?

And I can feel it s-sort of wr-wriggling…wriggling and squirming to get inside me and I’m t-trying to push it out with my tongue or—or close my mouth or something. Anything to keep this thing out. B-but it keeps flopping around and pushing itself inside my and I’m—I’m ch-choking on it, gagging, and I think I was crying and trying to scream and this thing—[gagging sound]”

“Tom—”

“N-no, no, stop, shut up, let me just—finish. Okay? Don’t! Don’t fuckin’ touch me! I’m fine! Just let me give my damn statement and get out of this place. It smells like death in here.”

“I…I apologize. Please continue.”

“It went down my throat. I could feel it sliding down my throat, feel it under the fingers of that thing that still held my mouth open. It was lighter than candyfloss but I felt it like I’d swallowed a chunk of bread without chewing it enough. It was gross and it was horrible and it was terrifying and I don’t think I’d wish it on anyone. Even that bastard Tord.

And then it was just…done. The hands were gone, the cloud thing was gone, and I was laying on the couch in our sitting room, gasping at the ceiling. Edd was the only one in there, watching the telly. Said he was too tired to carry to my room and then laughed at me for passing out. Maybe I shoulda said something then, should have told him what had just happened, what I’d seen. But I didn’t. Instead I ran to the bathroom and threw up. And it just never came up again, never had a reason to say anything. I kept getting distracted by things.

I didn’t know what had happened until the end of December, in 2014.

You remember that year? It was really wet. Kept raining but we hardly got any snow. Freezing cold but just…no snow, not really, nothing that really stuck.

Anyway, Edd had been on the roof fixing the satellite dish during a rainstorm. He ended up having another dick measuring contest with one of our neighbors, Eduardo. Um, I dunno his last name, actually. Var…something. Var…there was an “L” in there somewhere. Sorry. Can’t remember. Eduardo had this, like, “alien” satellite or something and I guess it was radioactive or whatever. Anyway, he and Edd both ended up with superpowers for 24 hours and I can see by the look on your face that you think I’m takin’ the piss and I swear to fuck I am not. You can look up the incident report yourself, probably. But I bet the coppers only wrote something about property damage due to gang violence or some bullshit. Might be pictures our there somewhere but I dunno how to find them. I’m afraid I’d see myself if I did.

So Eduardo punched me, like, three blocks. Should have killed me. Instead it just…it felt like something clicked into place. And I remembered that demon that had shoved its way down my throat. It was like it had been waiting for this.

It hurt, that first time.

When your body’s stretching and your muscles are tearing and your skin is warping and your bones are snapping and cracking and breaking into new shapes. It hurts like a son of a bitch. I wanted to die. But mostly I was just angry. I was so fucking angry.

Don’t remember much while I was…changed. Flashes of stuff; tearing through building, smashing cars, attacking Eduardo and Edd. I think I might have ate someone. I try not to think about it.

Eduardo hit me with something, some kind of energy beam, I dunno. Sent me flying and ripped that smoke right out of me. I remember it flying away, remember the feeling of it ripping out of my throat and tearing off into the night.

But whatever it had done was kind of…stuck to me, I guess. I can still turn into a monster. Almost did when Tord showed his damn commie face again and blew our house up. You can look that up too. 27 Durden Lane. Nothing but a crater now.

[a pause, sounds of container unscrewing, another pause, the thud of a fist hitting the table]

And the only fuckin’ reason I’m telling you people this is because—fuck it, you probably already think I’m insane—there’s some kind of big…bad thing on the way. Fuck if I know. Just. I just…feel it. Can smell it. Or something. Taste it like some dry fuckin’ rum in the back of my mouth. Maybe the world’s ending for real this time. Maybe everyone will actually remember it. I don’t know.

But this place fucking stinks like a bunch of rotten bodies, like that musty attic stench with dead bugs everywhere. And you don’t believe a damn word I’m saying because you think I’m just a drunk. Ha. I can’t even get drunk anymore.

Whatever. Believe what you want. We went to Hell and I’ve got demon powers. The end.”

“…right. Um. Is the whole…demon powers the reason why your eyes are like…that?”

“What? No. This is just ‘cause my mum’s a bowling ball. They’re hollow. See?”

“O-oh my god. State—statement ends.”

[click]

“I will admit I am…extremely skeptical of Mister—of Tom’s statement. It sound positively ludicrous, the delusions of a schizophrenic at their worst, I’d even hazard. I’d disregard his statement entirely if not for the visceral reactions he showed to some of his own words—though that only proves that he believes they’re true.

But his eyes…Christ, I’ve never seen anything like that. He could obviously see but they were just. Black pits in his head. Gone. He stuck his fingers in them. Not the worst thing I’ve seen, all things considered, but one of the most…disturbing? Uncomfortable, may be the better word.

Tim was able to find a police report on the incident at 27 Durden Lane on 13th March, 2016. It was written off as an accident but with some additional digging he managed to find…more. The rubble and blast patterns look more like they were caused by external explosions. Tim says it looks like a bomb went off. Or several bombs. The neighbor’s house—the residence of one Eduardo Varela, Markus Barnes, and Jonathan Rees—also sustained serious damage. Jonathan Rees reportedly died at the scene due to serious injury.

Martin managed to dig up a few photos from the incident in 2014. Most of them aren’t the best quality and it’s hard to tell what’s happening except for bright flashes of green. But one very clearly depicts a monstrous shape, as big as a building it looks like, with horns on its head. It’s hard to tell in the photograph but it appears to be purple. There was a reported explosion in a local park around the date Tom Ritehill claims he transformed into a monster, and there is a crater there from the police report. But that’s all the evidence we can find to support his…stories.

We tried to get into contact with Eddward Golding and Matthew Harvice but neither of them were very forthcoming. Edd Golding declined to comment altogether and Matt Harvice was…he was difficult to talk to. It was as if he kept losing his train of thought. I doubt he would make for a reliable source.

There was also an attempt to contact the individual Tord Lesion but none of the information we were able to find was up to date. The only thing Tim managed to scrounge up was an old wanted poster,  several months out of date, with Tord Lesion’s image on it. He appears to be in a military style uniform with a shotgun. If Tom Ritehill’s claims that Tord is starting a personal army are to be believed, then I suppose this would be a reason to trust his word. Maybe.

[sigh] I suppose we could investigate these claims more in the future. Though I am very much inclined to ignore them.

End recording.”

[click]

“Supplemental.

It just occurred to me that it’s been very nearly four months since the incident with Jane Prentiss. This place has been scrubbed within an inch of its life, nearly burned with chemicals, steamed so badly that it made my eyes water with the lingering chemical smell when I finally came back from leave. It’s been so thoroughly cleaned that a blind dog trying to sniff his way out would have run into the walls.

And yet…and yet Thomas claimed he could…he could smell the death. He said…dead bugs. Specifically dead bugs. And decay. And I can’t…stop thinking about those tunnels…and what could still be down there.

…end supplemental.”

[end of tape]

[geeky-writes]

Pieces of Echoes Chapter 26 Preview

Behind? Catch up on AO3/ FFN 😊

“JARVIS, is Natasha at home?” Steve asked as he opened the notebook, flipping through the well-worn pages.

“Yes, Captain, Agent Romanoff is in her apartment,” JARVIS answered.

“Good. Can you call her, please?”

A few seconds later Natasha’s face filled the monitor, dressed in the clothes she often wore when she danced. She had told Steve a long time ago that ballet was one of her outlets, much like painting was for Steve and building things was for Peter, and he was proud that she had been able to get back into it lately.

“Hey, Cap, what’s up?”

“Um… I was wondering… do you have a few minutes?” Steve asked. He held up the notebook, clearing his throat. “I’m thinking that we need to start some training again, try and get back into… things, but… I’m not—I’m not quite sure if I can… do it alone. At least, not yet, so I was wondering—”

“Steve, it’s okay,” Natasha interrupted, giving him a soft smile. “I can be up there in ten minutes, does that work?”

Steve huffed as he nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Natasha said. “See you then.”

To pass the time while he waited, Steve padded into the kitchen, preparing two large mugs of the jasmine tea that he knew Natasha enjoyed. For how tired he was coffee would have probably been more useful, but he hadn't yet been able to bring himself to even touch the coffeemaker, ever since—

Well, ever since.

“Agent Romanoff is on her way up, Captain,” JARVIS announced once Steve finished preparing the tea.

“Thanks, JARVIS.”

He had just taken a seat at the kitchen table when Natasha breezed into the room, heading directly for her mug of tea.

“Mmm, jasmine,” she said, blowing on it before taking a small sip. “My favourite.”

“I thought I remembered that,” answered Steve. “I’d offer to make you something more substantial, but I’m afraid—well, I haven’t really been cooking all that much, since—since—”

Well, ever since.

“Steve, it’s okay,” Natasha said quietly. “You don't need to explain yourself to me, I understand.”

Something about the tone of Natasha’s gravelly voice, and the gentle way that she patted Steve’s hand in comfort—much like the way Steve had seen her do so many times for Peter—caused all of Steve’s internal floodgates to open and he suddenly burst into tears. And being the wonderful, kind, and compassionate person that she was, Natasha simply sat with him, occasionally squeezing his hand as he cried himself out over the next several minutes, finally getting up to retrieve some tissues from the nearby bathroom when she was certain that Steve could handle her leaving.

“I’m—I’m so sorry!” he sobbed, blotting at his puffy eyes with a tissue. “I didn't call you up here to watch me cry into my tea, I just—I just—”

“Steve, I said it’s okay,” said Natasha. “It’s not good to keep your emotions in check all the time. I know you're trying your damnedest to be strong for Peter and that’s admirable, but it’s not healthy for you in the long run, and I personally feel that it’s okay for Peter to see that you’re struggling too.” She gave him a rather sheepish grin as she took another sip of her tea. “Or, at least that’s what Sam’s always saying. I know it’s a lot easier said than done sometimes.”

“More like all the time,” Steve muttered, still scrubbing at his eyes. “I just—I just feel like I should be able to get past this agony at least a little, you know? I mean, I've lost people before, during the war, but—it still hurts so much that sometimes I can’t even breathe—like the very air itself is trying to choke me, and—”

“Steve, this was your husband,” Natasha said. “And it’s only been three months, I’d honestly be worried about you if I thought you were moving on already. You're a widower and a single dad now, it’s gonna take time for you to adjust to that. And that’s completely understandable.”

Fresh tears welled in Steve's eyes, and he shook his head. “I don't know if I’ll ever adjust to it,” he admitted. “I mean, I drag myself out of nightmares each morning—if I even sleep at all—and find that there’s no relief in waking. And I’m trying—I’m trying to do what I keep telling myself that I need to do, but I just—I just don't know how. And poor Peter, he never really stopped having his nightmares, even before—but lately they’ve gotten so much worse again, and I just don't know how to help him. I mean, just the other night he woke up screaming like he was being attacked, and I ran into his room to find him scratching and picking at his arm. And when I asked him about it, he told me that he’d been dreaming he was back in the cave and hooked up to some kind of medicine drip that was making him see things.”

“Oh my God, the poor kid!” Natasha exclaimed. “That’s horrible!”

“Yeah, it really was,” Steve agreed. He curled his hands around his mug, feeling the heat burning into his palms. “And the whole time I was trying to comfort him, he kept repeating, ‘it’s not real, Papa, it’s not real. Uncle Bucky says that I need to wake up’. Almost as if he knew it was a dream, but he couldn't quite figure out how to get out of it.”

“Uncle Bucky?” Natasha asked, confused. “He doesn’t mean Barnes, does he?”

“I guess, I don’t know who else he would mean,” Steve said sadly. “But I think it’s a bit of a stretch for Peter to be calling him ‘Uncle’ when Bucky tried to punch him in the head the only time that he saw him.”

“Yeah, you’re right, that doesn’t make much sense,” murmured Natasha. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I can’t imagine how scary that must have been.”

“Yeah, it was pretty awful,” Steve said, shuddering. “I was just glad that he didn’t manage to break the skin on his arm, but he was so scared and confused—” He paused, looking intently at Natasha. “And I haven’t told anyone else this. Peter asked me not to, I think he was embarrassed, so if you don’t mind—”

“Of course, you don't need to worry about that,” Natasha assured him. “I’m just sorry you had to go through it alone.”

Steve hung his head, sniffing. “I just feel so useless, because I can’t seem to help him like I should. I’m his father, but… I just can’t seem to plan my way out of this. I can’t seem to figure it out.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes there just isn't a plan, Steve. Sometimes, and I know you're good at this because I’ve seen it, sometimes you just need to rely on your instincts. And that’s okay.”

Steve ran his fingertip around the rim of his mug, contemplating Natasha’s words. His Army superiors had always taught him to trust his instincts, and he had passed along that knowledge to both the Avengers and to Peter. But Steve was a master strategist; he always had been, even before the serum, and it was so hard for him to admit that there were just some things that he couldn't strategise his way out of.

“Where’d you get to be so knowledgeable about this stuff?” he asked, trying to smile. “I doubt that they taught very many classes on compassion in the Red Room.”

“No, no, they absolutely did not,” Natasha said with wide eyes. “Compassion was considered worse than a four-letter word in the Red Room.” She paused to take a sip of her tea, setting the mug down carefully. “I actually learned it from you guys. Well, maybe a bit from Fury and SHIELD, but mainly from you guys, ‘cause you know, it’s Fury.”

“Ah yes, I think I understand,” Steve said, his smile widening ever-so-slightly.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Natasha said with a smirk. “So, I pretty much came from nothing, and then I was trained to be a ghost from the time I was old enough to write my name. Just an assassin, mindlessly following orders. I didn't understand what it was like to have real friends, to have… a family, until I got to the Avengers. You guys became my family, and I—I’m so much better now because of it. Better than I ever thought I was capable of being.”

“And we’re better for it too, Nat,” Steve managed through his tight throat. “All of us are, and so was Tony.”

Natasha gave him a wink as she drained the rest of her mug. “Well, I’m sure Tony had his moments. Now, you mentioned something about starting up some training sessions?”

Taking the hint, Steve opened his notebook to a fresh page. “All right, let’s get to work.”

They ended up spending the next three hours planning out training exercises, both for the individuals and the team as a whole, with Steve making sure to include some exercises for Peter as well. He had begun joining the rest of the team on some of their training sessions right before—well, right before—and had proved himself to be quite adept at meshing right in, so adept that while Steve was in no way ready to call his young teenage son an official Avenger, he at least knew that Peter could definitely hold his own if it ever became necessary.

“Well, I think we got a lot accomplished this afternoon,” Natasha said once they were done, absentmindedly chewing on a pizza crust left over from their hastily ordered lunch. “This is a great start, Steve.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Steve said. He got to his feet, gathering up the pizza box and the empty drink glasses. “Thank you, Nat.”

Natasha gave him a smile as she patted his arm. “You're welcome. And don't forget, it’s okay to ask for help sometimes. You're not in this alone.”

“I know,” answered Steve as he let out a heavy sigh. “I think I just tend to forget that sometimes. I mean, I know our jobs are more dangerous than most, I guess I just never thought—” He broke off, not wanting the tears to start flowing again, he’d already taken enough advantage of Natasha’s patience and sympathy. “I just never thought that—”

“Steve, it’s okay,” said Natasha. “I’m not sure any of us ever thought all that much about it. Tony was… always so full of life, it just doesn't make sense.”

“Yeah, he was,” Steve said. Right up until the second he wasn’t.

“Okay, so we’ll start this schedule next week, then?” asked Natasha.

Steve gave a nod. “Yep, on Monday. Right after I take Peter to school.”

“All right. I guess I’ll see you then, if not before.”

Steve walked Natasha to the elevator, not exactly feeling what he would call “light”, but definitely better than he had been that morning. Unfortunately, almost as soon as the doors closed behind Natasha the heavy sadness he had managed to push aside during their work came roaring back with a vengeance, nearly bowling Steve over with its intensity.

He could plan all the Avengers’ training sessions that he wanted, but it still didn't change the fact that the team was now one member down.

And in Steve’s eyes, they were down the most important member. Tony had always been what Steve liked to call the heart of the Avengers, and he still had no idea how in the world they were going to survive without their heart.

No one can live without a heart, Steve thought miserably as he made his way back towards his bedroom. Especially not me.

Stepping inside the bedroom, Steve’s eyes were immediately drawn to the huge painting hung on the wall above the bed, the painting he had presented to Tony as a wedding gift. Tears stung Steve’s sore eyes as he remembered that wonderful day spent at Coney Island, how happy and full of life they all had been, he, Tony, and Peter, celebrating Peter’s birthday.

What a razor-sharp contrast to the misery he was in now.

“JARVIS, is Peter doing okay?” he asked.

“Master Peter’s vital signs are within his normal parameters, Captain,” answered JARVIS. “He is currently attending his chemistry class.”

Well, at least there’s that.

“All right, thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Captain.”

Suddenly exhausted, Steve picked up the arc reactor and collapsed onto the chair, pressing the reactor to his chest and closing his eyes. He had about ninety minutes before he had to pick Peter up from school, so… may as well see if he could catch up on some sleep, even if he never seemed to like what he saw while there.

But as he felt his exhausted body sinking slowly towards unconsciousness, even more disturbing thoughts flitted across Steve’s mind. That nightmare of Peter’s that he’d described to Natasha had occurred only two nights ago. It hadn't happened again since then, and Peter had begged Steve not to tell Sam about it, but Steve couldn't help but be worried. As bad as Peter’s nightmares were it wasn’t normal for him to try and hurt himself during one, and Steve was now living in near-constant fear that it would happen again. And with Peter’s strength still increasing as he grew, Steve was also afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop him.

Not to mention the fact that Peter was suddenly claiming a connection with Bucky, of all people. The last time Steve had seen Bucky he’d been barely coherent, holed up in his padded room at the mental hospital where he’d been living ever since he took a swing at Peter. Tony had insisted that Bucky be removed from the Tower immediately, and Steve had relented, not wanting to risk Peter’s safety again.

There was no way Bucky could have been communicating with Peter when he couldn’t even take care of himself.

I need to get Peter some help, Steve thought miserably. I can’t do this alone. Not anymore.

The absolute last thing that Peter needed, was for Steve to fail him again.

The full chapter will post on Monday, July 29th 😊