#apparently i was supposed to pick up the wall phone? and call a code they hadn't given me? spent 30 mins getting help from other department

[kayvsworld]

i always forget i have Healthcare System Anxiety until i have to interact with The Healthcare System and immediately just start screaming internally for days

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail

Day 1

Summary: Your best friend goes missing after working a shift as an overnight security guard for the upcoming horror attraction Fazbear's Fright. You masquerade as a journalist to investigate their disappearance and find yourself with more questions. Questions that only a murderous animatronic intent on killing you has answers to.

Words: 3,586

Fun stuff: Springtrap/Reader/Michael, gender neutral reader, cannon typical violence, vv slow burn and romance is more implied kinda?? I'm very aromantic and the characters have complex relationships. william and michael are very much corpses and very much gross. Uploaded from my Ao3.

Next

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Your eyes flitted from the hastily scrawled note in your hand to the crumbling building in front of you. You knew it was supposed to look rundown to add to the scare-factor, but even from the back Fazbear’s Fright seemed more likely to receive several health code violations over screams. Maybe it was the broad daylight, or maybe it was the metal beam that collapsed in front of you right at that moment, but you couldn’t imagine the horror attraction gaining as much attention as the newspaper clipping led you to believe.

You hesitantly opened the back door, praying another metal beam wouldn’t collapse on top of you. It was unlocked, just as the man on the phone said it would be.

“Hello?” You said, before reeling back into the fresh air outside. The stench coming from inside wafted in a plume of rotten eggs and sweat. You gagged, taking in a couple gulps of fresh air, and then steeled yourself as you entered the building. The door shut with an uncharacteristic soft click behind you. 

“Hello?” You called out again. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the dark interior. 

“Over here!” A hand waved out of a room to your right with a dim, ghastly yellow-green light spilling from its doorway.

You walked into the room; an office filled with grime (possibly decorational), loose wires (hopefully decorational), and trash (definitely not decorational). A young man with a nonchalant grin swiveled on his chair to face you. He said your name and you nodded. 

“Awesome,” He held out his hand in a wide, informal handshake, which you returned. His grip was loose and a bit sweaty. “I was the guy on the phone.”

“Oh,” You said as you distractedly looked around the office. There were big boxes filled with Fazbear Entertainment merchandise along with character posters plastered on the walls. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“For sure, for sure,” He started clicking through security footage, drawing your attention. 

You noticed there were quite a bit of people throughout the building, all splattering blood stains or grimming-up corners to make the attraction just a touch more spooky. You bit your lower lip. Would any of them be willing to reveal some information to you, or would they keep you from investigating anything useful? 

“Welp,” He clapped his knees and stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t I show you around? You can get the gist of all the best scares of the place for... uh, who’d you say you write for again?”

“Scary Attractions Monthly,” You said, taking out a pen and notebook. It was a fake name for... something. Maybe a magazine or blog. You didn’t put too much thought in it and apparently neither did he.

No, you weren’t here to write a glowing article on a mediocre, somewhat distasteful, and very unsanitary hazard of a horror attraction like you said you were. 

You were here because of a call. A call you received at four in the morning. A call you didn’t pick up, but you wished you did. 

“Right, that,” He said in a way that told you he was going to forget it again. “Well, you’re gonna love the place, we found some real legit relics!”

You just hummed as you followed him out of the room. 

“The attraction opens in like a week, so everyone’s been working extra hard to make sure everything works, and nothing catches on fire.” He stopped in front of a disassembled torso of Freddy. “Uh, not that anything would, that was, uh, “off-the-record” .”

“Right.” You said, pretending to cross something out. 

“Yeah, so when the place opens, people will come in at the opposite end of the building, and work their way towards where you came in; that’s the exit. We’ve got some totally vintage relics, man. Like this foxy head, super authentic.”

You squinted at it. 

“Like, it’s not a crappy cosplay for sure .”

That made you think it was a crappy cosplay.

“But it’s not just these totally authentic pieces that make the place, the whole place is rigged super vintage.”

You stepped to the side as two employees rushed past you, holding a heavy box of miscellaneous mechanical parts, “What do you mean?” You asked.

“Like, the whole place is built like it’s 1987, just like from the missing kids stuff,” It felt a little insensitive to refer to that tragedy as the ��missing kid stuff’ . “The ventilation, the electronics, even the cameras and stuff, all for that authenticity.”

You swallowed, “So there’s no security footage?”

“Nah, but we’ve got a guard on around-the-clock, even overnight, so it’s perfectly safe.” You already knew that. Your best friend was an overnight security guard.

Suddenly, a pipe burst, spewing some white, cloudy vapor rapidly at an employee who was struggling to get the pipe under control.

“And is the ventilation perfectly safe?” You asked.

“Heheh,” he started to sweat. “Basically, I mean. He’s probably fine. Here,” He turned you around to a different hallway, “Let’s go this way, you gotta see the coolest part of the attraction.”

You followed him to an area with no one present. It was an odd feeling going from a busy part of the attraction to this place of complete emptiness, and you finally found the creeping horror of the attraction. With the molding tiled floor that was once bright, the low-ambient lighting flickering on-and-off, and the decades-old child’s drawings interspersed on the walls, the place really felt haunted. 

Then, the smell of rot and decay hit your nose in a crashing wave. You held your nose and gagged. It was worse than when you walked into the attraction, and then you knew why this area was so empty. 

“You gotta get that pen out because you’re not gonna believe this,” He said. “We got one, a real one!” He looked back at you gagging and coughing. “Oh. Yeah, the smell is, like intense , but you get used to it quick.” 

“What do you mean...?” Your sentence was lost on you as your entire focus was drawn to figure in the corner. 

A very large figure in the corner. A rotten bunny animatronic that towered in the shadows. 

Chills danced up your spine in your visceral fear. You were stalled by some animal instinct you didn’t know you had. 

It was large and lumbering and fully intact—ruined and soiled with time. It had to have been nearly seven feet tall, even as it stood motionless in its hunch. It looked almost half a century old, and even in its decayed state you could still see the design of what it once was: a golden Bonnie suit now corrupted a dingy green by age and rot.

Your heart beat slowed when you realized it wasn’t moving. It was just an animatronic; part of the attraction. Even as you followed your guide towards it, its eyes flashed with reflected light in a way that was perfectly terrifying. This really was a great find for the attraction. 

“So cool, isn’t it?” He said, knocking on the animatronic’s mildewy chest, and though logically you knew that wasn’t dangerous, you couldn’t help the drop in your gut as he touched the thing. “It’s like it was made for this place.”

“No kidding.” You said, and you meant it. Honestly, that animatronic might’ve been the scariest thing you had ever seen, let alone the scariest part of the attraction. You dared to take a few steps closer to it. You weren’t able to pull your eyes away from it, almost as if you did it would lunge at you. 

Its eyes looked too human. You wanted to throw up.

“Yeah, so spooky.” He also was transfixed, but not for as long as you were. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took to find it! We found some vintage audio training cassettes with it. We’ll probably have them playing, like over the speakers while people walk through the attraction. It’ll make the place feel legit .” 

The cassettes didn’t even cross your mind, “Does it still work?”

“Uh, yeah, probably.”

You were finally able to pull your eyes away from the rotted Bonnie. “Probably?”

“Well, I’ve never seen it move, and no one else has either, but nobody moves it and sometimes it’s not in the same place so probably. The cassettes mention something about the suits following kid noises, but I haven’t seen that either. And uh, we’ve got a guard checking the cameras all the time, so it's not dangerous.” 

He said that so nonchalantly you were baffled, “Are you sure about that? Didn’t somebody get bitten by one of these things years ago?”

He started to sweat, “Oh ye-yeah, that’s something uh, we’re working on this week. We’re grabbing a mechanic or... There’s a week until the place opens so, you know.” He trailed. 

Your face blanked. Well, it wasn’t any of your business how dangerous these things were anyway. You were only here for one reason. “Right,” Your eyes wandered back to the animatronic.

Your heart dropped. You held your breath.

Its eyes were looking at you. Eyes that were too human. 

It wasn’t looking at you before, was it? You would have certainly remembered it looking at you. You swallowed as you took a step out of its sight. Its eyes didn’t follow you. You must’ve imagined it.

Turning away from the rotted Bonnie, you put your pen to your notebook, “Having overnight guards is a good safety precaution.” You said, and his shoulders visibly relaxed when you said it. “And it’s pretty authentic to the original Pizzeria.”

“Oh, for sure, for sure,” He said. “That’s what we’re trying for, authenticity and all. Plus, they’ll also be a part of the show to really get that feel of a pizzeria!”

“The place hasn’t opened yet, but do your guards run into any trouble at night?”

“Nah, or at least I don’t think so.” 

His nonchalance irked you, “You don’t think so?”

“Well, nobody’s mentioned anything to me yet, so.” 

“Hmm.” You tapped your pen on your notebook before setting it back down, “I heard a rumor that one of your night guards disappeared on the job, is that true?”

“What?” He started to look nervous again, though whether it was from the pressure of saying the wrong thing or the guilt of having done something wrong, you didn’t know. “Oh uh, I don’t really know anything about that, where did you hear that?”

“Somewhere online.” You said, casually. 

“Well, it’s not true, somebody would’ve said something or—”

“But if there’s only one person on the night shift, how would somebody be able to say something?”

A click was heard behind you. Almost like the sound of a gear. Both you and the man you were talking to turned toward the rotted Bonnie suit. It didn’t move, or at least it didn’t look like it moved. It was still. That didn’t matter. You and the man you were with were deadly silent for a few moments. 

“We should, uh, we should talk in the office, right?” He said, and it wasn’t a balm that he was anxious as well.

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” 

The two of you left the area with the animatronic, and you felt the air around you lighten. It seemed he was right when he said you’d get used to that rotted smell, because you didn’t notice how much it was a relief to get away from that thing. 

“Anyway,” He said as the two of you walked. “I don’t know anything about a night guard disappearing. Yeah, a night guard quit suddenly without any notice a few nights ago.” The two of you ducked as a vent dropped nearly on top of you, barely being stopped by two employees who grabbed it just in time. It didn’t slow either of your gaits, “And yeah, this is not the first time that’s happened and is eerily similar to events that happened thirty years ago. But there’s always a bad string of luck before grand openings, typical exciting attraction stuff. So...” The two of you slipped into the office as a group of employees brought in a string of large boxes, “Probably don’t mention any of the rumor stuff in the article.”

You eyed him head to toe as he sat in the office chair. He was sweating a little under your scrutiny. He wouldn’t give you anything if you antagonized him, so you smiled and he relaxed, “Of course, it’s typical. Especially for haunted attractions.”

“Heheh, yeah, ‘course,” He swallowed and sniffed. “Well, uh, what other questions can I answer?”

“Tell me a bit about the security guards' role in the show.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, “Oh yeah well, this is where they will be, in this office. When the place opens, people will come in where I told you before, and work their towards this office, and pass them, and out the exit.”

You wondered if your faux-enthusiasm was believable enough, because it felt as stiff as the disassembled animatronic pieces, “Oh, very cool.”

“Yeah! Just like a real security guard from a pizzeria.” He said, “Or well, they are real security guards, but you get what I mean.” 

“Absolutely,” You said. “Can I see the cameras? They’ve got such a neat 80s vibe to them.”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” He rolled his chair over so you could look over his shoulder. “I just click the camera here and... one sec.” He pulled an old panel with a few technical reboot options on it, before clicking one. You leaned your arms on the back of his chair as you watched the cameras fizzle from white static to a poor resolution of video footage. “There,” He said. “Pretty legit, huh?”

“Very legit.” You paid very close attention as he flitted through the different cameras, or rather what the cameras didn’t catch. 

“Yeah, in trying to make the place feel more vintage we have overdone it a bit, heh heh. Some of this equipment is barely functional!” His eyes widened slightly as he held up his hands, “But still functional, of course.”

“Of course,” You said. “Well, I thought I might take some more notes on the attractions and then I can let myself out in the front?”

“All the way to the other end of the building? Sure, if you want.”

“Thanks,” You held out your hand. “It was great meeting you.”

He smiled and shook your hand, and you almost felt bad for lying to him. He was just a guy excited about horror attractions doing his job. Even if he was brushing the dangers of this place under the rug; brushing your best friend's disappearance under the rug... No, nevermind. You didn’t feel even a little bad.

“It was awesome meeting you too,” He said. “Can’t wait to read about us in...” He forgot your fake journalism blog/magazine/whatever. “A few days or whenever you get around to writing it.” What a save.

You threw him one last smile before making your way through the busy preparations. You pretended to take a few notes, gave your best impression of someone interested in an empty Chica head, and attempted to talk to a few employees. Talking to the people who were working was more fruitless than you hoped. They either were too busy to talk to you or were skirting around certain subjects like the man who’d shown you around had. You attempted to find real evidence and real clues as well, but that was just as fruitless. Fake blood and artificial claw marks fooled you every time and you had to pass it off as admiration and journalism.

No, if you wanted to know what really happened, you would have to get into that office. Look at it more closely and see if there were any traces or clues left by them. Or even if you could take a look at the cameras more closely, see if a bird’s-eye-view gave perspective. You could only hope that maybe there would be an hour between the day shift and the night shift that you could look around and do some real investigating.

First, you needed to find a good place to hide. Somewhere the cameras couldn’t see, but employees wouldn’t spot you either. From what you saw, the cameras even extended to the vents, which was insane to you. However, not all of the vents were monitored. In your mind, you imagined some big locker or box you could hide in, but there was nothing like that, so the vents would have to do. 

Your stomach dropped. Hiding in the vents also meant you couldn’t be seen tampering with them, which meant you had to go to the area with the least amount of people. You rubbed your eyes. You were an adult. You shouldn’t have been so hesitant to be around what was basically a giant toy, a decoration. A nearly seven foot, moldy, possibly dangerous decoration that could crush you just by falling on you. You swallowed.

Steeling yourself, you walked toward the area with the rotted Bonnie.

There it was. Unmoved in a way that mocked your fear. Just as horrible to smell (was it really that ruined by mildew? Did someone stuff food in there? Did some poor animal die in there?), but you were getting used to it quickly. After a quick moment of choking. 

You wondered briefly what it must’ve looked like on stage, alive with music and light, warm in color and a delight to children. That must’ve been such an exciting thing thirty or forty years ago. Now it wasn’t even a shell of what it once was, it was a perversion. Twisted and moldy in such a way that its wires looked like guts and its endoskeleton was dulled like bone. Its smile that must’ve been cheery at one point now looked like a permanent, malicious grin. Its eyes—ever too human for your liking—and teeth were nearly the same dingy color of its mildewy fur. You realized this Bonnie was missing his bowtie, and that made you sad for some reason. 

You cursed under your breath, “What happened to you?”

You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to the rotted Bonnie. Not unlike the sickening smell that you had adjusted to, you seemed to have adapted to the initial fear the animatronic instilled in you. Suddenly in a morbid curiosity, you were wanting to poke and prod at it; to test how rusted its joints must’ve been or to try peeking for rot inside. You shook your head of the impulse. 

You turned your head to look at the way you came. There wasn’t anybody passing by just yet. You looked at the camera, which didn’t seem focused but you couldn’t be sure. Lastly, you looked at the vent against the wall. 

In an effort to alleviate the tension beating against your chest—caused by a fear of getting caught, a fear of not finding anything, and a fear of the rotted Bonnie themself—you threw the animatronic a wink and said, “Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

You hurried to the vent, throwing a cautious glance behind you. You knelt in front of it, fully prepared to use a piece of shrapnel you found to undo its screws. However, you found the screws had already been pulled loose, interestingly enough. You briefly wondered who could have the strength for that as you quietly shifted the vent open and slipped in, gently and silently putting the vent back. 

You laid there on your stomach for a few moments as your exhilaration began to calm down. You hoped this place’s ventilation system wasn’t so “vintage” and “legit” that you’d suffocate or get some noxious gas spewed into your lungs.

As your heartbeat fell slower and slower, you cast your eyes downward. You had a long evening of waiting ahead of you. You shuffled quietly until you could get a hold of an earbud in your pocket. You took it out along with your phone, putting the earbud in your ear. You tapped on your most recent voice messages. 

Maybe you’d be able to recognize something in the voice message... or maybe you just wanted to remember why you were doing all of this.

You tapped on your phone until their voice message began playing in your ear.

Silence.

Shuffling.

Heavy, muffled breathing.

More silence.

Your name in a shaken whisper.

“...Come...” Their voice was hushed so so quiet. “...Come to...”

A child’s laughter, not quite right.

“...Hurry...I-”

The sound of the phone dropping.

-Click-

Your finger hovered over the option to play the message again. Your best friend was working at Fazbear’s Frights the night you got that message. They were supposed to meet you the morning after. They didn’t. After giving the message to the police, Fazbear Entertainment reported that your best friend had clocked-out at 6AM that morning and that there was no incident during their shift. You didn’t buy it. Whether there was some big corporate conspiracy, or whether something happened and Fazbear Entertainment just didn’t want to delay the attraction’s opening, you didn’t know. But a body hadn’t been found and that was something . Something to hold on to. 

You would get to the bottom of it.

You rested your head on your arm as you played the message again.

[princesscolumbia]

Code of Ethics - Ch. 5 - Debriefing

Completely forgot to post this to Tumblr on Saturday when I updated Scribblehub.

Dylan and his team gather for the planning meeting leading up to his 'deep dive' into the VRMMO Galaxies Unlimited: Master and Commander

Preview below the cut:

Dylan cleared his throat and grabbed another donut, doing his best to seem nonchalant, like the atavistic fear of being abducted from your own body wasn’t making him want to curl up in a corner, “Well, on a brighter note, who was the lucky S.O.B. that got to sit around after we got word of the assignment and spend all their time reading game journals?” He made a show of taking a bite out of the donut and scanning the room as a couple of chuckles filled the air and Tyler started getting a few pokes and elbow jabs from the team members around him. “Right! It was Tyler! So what’s the situation on this game I’ll be getting paid by American tax dollars to play, Mustache?”

Tyler ran his forefinger and thumb over his spruce mustache, “You’re just jealous, bossman,” he pulled out his own phone and, similar to Geoffry earlier but with a pinch more flair, put some visuals on the main screen. “Galaxy Unlimited: Master and Commander, or Gee-Eyoo-Emm-See to use the player’s shorthand, is the latest VRMMO game in- or out-side the wall.” As he spoke, a starfield faded in, like a movie producer was filling a dark theater with a movie of a space opera. Sure enough, a massive ship glided onto the screen, the forward bow in the shape of a dull arrow and the hull festooned with gewgaws that made it look appropriately futuristic and sciency. With the sound off, it may as well have been a brochure for a special effects company. “Players assume the role of some type of commander. There’s a few different classes, and they differ from the common VRMMO fare. There’s the Naval Captain, where you command a single ship in the navy of one of several galactic powers. Kinda like...what’s that show? Space Trek?”

Dylan knew Tyler was jerking his chain, as if the cheshire grin didn’t give it away, “Get on with it ‘stache.”

Tyler just snickered and threw another video up on the screen, this one of a caravan of ships, only a handful of which were obviously geared toward combat running picket around the others, “Then you’ve got the Merchant Marines, this option’s the most straight-up capitalistic, and apparently there’s a couple prestige classes that involve things like smuggling, naval fleet support, working for the various mob families, that sort of thing.”

“There’s this odd one called ‘Swarm Royalty,’ which I guess is an alien race of some sort,” another video showed a, well, swarm of nearly identical craft of indeterminate size. As the camera followed the trajectory of the cloud of ships, they began attacking a larger craft, apparently some form of cargo ship, and it appeared the swarm ships were single or two-person craft. “Since the game is all about being some sort of commander, I guess you’d be the head of the swarm? Honestly, I think this class was built for the A.I., I can’t seem to wrap my head around how you’re supposed to control that many ships.”

Dylan frowned, “Yeah, not going to pick that one. What’s next?”

Tyler rolled his eyes theatrically as he started the next video, “Next up is planetary governor. Not a popular option, since it’s more about micromanaging an individual planet instead of doing stuff out in space, but apparently it’s a fast track to being able to claim a seat in the Galactic Senate, which is a pretty big deal at the higher levels of the game.”

Jake made a noise that sounded a bit like a cat hacking up a hairball, “They gamified politics?!”

Tyler held up his hands as though surrendering, “Don’t look at me, man, I didn’t design the game.”

“So assuming I just wanted to give up my soul instead of fighting the A.I., I’ll go the political track,” joked Dylan, “Let’s hear the other options first.”

“Next up is Warleader, it’s popular with the people who played just straight up hack-and-slash or run-and-gun in other games. You start off with a cluster of ships and zero reputation and basically just agro and claim as much space as you can hold. It goes from just commanding a few ships to, potentially, being in charge of a small galactic nation that could potentially threaten the major powers. I say, ‘potentially,’ because no player has been able to do more than grab a handful of systems and nation build since the game’s release a month ago. Any time any of them get to be too big the alliance that seized the systems falls apart or another player team declares war and one side or another gets wiped out.”

Dylan grimaced, “I’m not going in there to pretend to be a tinpot dictator, so that one’s obviously off the table.”

Tyler nodded, “Finally we’ve got the Independent,” he flicked a video up onto the screen. This time instead of a ship, fleet, or planet, a space station appeared. It was a bulbus thing, spherical in shape with four arms jutting out like spokes of a wheel, but instead of a ring there were four additional, smaller spheres equidistant from the central sphere. “This is one of several station types, and the longer the player in charge of the station plays, the more likely their station is going to look unique. Basically, the Independents are the type that don’t want to get directly involved with galactic politics, at least not right away. They have freedom to do pretty much anything they want as long as it’s within reach of their station and fleet, they have none of the restrictions on their actions and they don’t take orders. That said, they also don’t have any of the support structure any of the other options has. They’re not empire building, so there’s never going to be resources to exploit. They’re not part of the galactic government, at least at first, so there’s nobody to go to if a player bigger and meaner than you decides to pick on your station, and there’s no chain of command to pass the buck upstream.”

Tyler set his phone down and gave Dylan a serious look, “I’m also thinking this last class would be the best choice for the mission. The others simply have too many obstacles to make them practical.”

Dylan finished his coffee and set his cup aside, then folded his hands, “Explain, please.”

“Well, let’s run down the list again,” Tyler flicked at his phone and a list that was, apparently, his meeting outline for this session appeared on the screen.

“The naval captain is stuck doing exactly what their higher-ups tell them to do. It’s got more flexibility than a real navy would, it wouldn’t be fun to play otherwise, but if you’re wanting to chase a lead and it goes into one of the neutral zones or no-mans-lands between space empires, or even into one of the neighboring nations, you’re locked out unless you want to go expat or rogue, which puts you back in the same condition as an Independent but without the station.”

“The Merchant Marines would seem to be a good choice, but it has a lot of the same drawbacks of the naval captain in that you’re stuck with a duty roster. Additionally, the majority of the M.M. class draw seems to be for people who are all about making deals and haggling prices. They’re the economic backbone of the game, but unless you get into the black markets, you’re unlikely to be dealing with the types of people who are smuggling the A.I. in the game.”

Dylan’s face pinched as a sick feeling churned his gut at the thought of even pretending to traffic sentient beings, “Yeah, I definitely see your point there.”

“We’ve already talked about the swarm and how that’s not a good option, so moving on to governor; it’s too high-level. It’s dealing with ratifying laws and brokering political deals, not getting into the day-to-day of actually running, say, a police force or three-letter-agency to try and do an in-game hunt. You’d be spending all your time governing and shaking hands instead of working on the mission.” Dylan nodded, not interested in playing politics, even in a game.

“And then there’s the war leader, which has a mirror opposite problem as the governor; you’d be spending all your time either empire building or defending the territory you claimed to do any sort of behind the scenes investigations.”

Tyler leaned forward on his elbows, “And that brings us back to the Independent; you’d be without significant support, sure, and you’d have to do a decent amount of logistics and brokering for goods and services to support your station, but you’d also be in the heart of, well, everything.”

Dylan leaned forward as well, “How do you mean?”

Tyler smirked, “Well, take a look,” he swiped at his phone and flicked an image up, this time showing what looked like a map of the galaxy with territories splitting it up. “This is the most recent player-created map I could find,” he stood and circled the table so he could point to the map with his hand, “This blue section is the Terran Federation.” He pointed at a small dot that had a callout with the word ‘Sol,’ “This is in-game Earth, and it’s buried pretty deep inside Terran space.” He indicated a red blotch that took up a significant stretch of space along the rim of the galaxy, “This is the Crotuk Empire...think ‘orcs in space’ or maybe Klingons,” he then indicated a yellow section, “This here is Swarm space, they’re kind of a mix between the Borg and the xenomorphs from Aliens.” He then waved at a green section of the map, “This here is the Lantru, an insect-like race.” He then gestured at the parts of the map that weren’t colored in, “All the space in-between these empires? Neutral space, even the governments of the four major factions aren’t going to push too significantly into these areas because it’d be basically declaring open war.”

“That means,” said Tyler as he turned to face the team, “That this,” he rapped the screen with a knuckle inside Neutral space, “Is where the real action happens. Intelligence? Trade? Mercenaries? Information brokers? Black markets? All of it happens here,” he once again rapped the screen for emphasis, “And that is where all the Independent stations are. If you choose to play as an Independent, you’re automatically going to spawn aboard your own station right at the heart of all the action. All you have to do then is make your station attractive enough to draw the right sorts of people who might want to use your station to do business and keep your ear to the ground.”

Dylan’s eyebrows went up, “Well, I guess that settles it. I guess my dreams of playing Captain Kirk are going to have to wait,” he grinned as he took a bite out of another donut.

Read the rest on Scribblehub

[satoruvt]

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement. 

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time. 

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job.  “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars. 

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!” 

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower. 

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!” 

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down. 

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?” 

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

-

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom. 

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself. 

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

-

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen. 

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring. 

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart. 

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add. 

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,”  Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it. 

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel. 

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh. 

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. 

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though. 

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Together

A Stitched Story (END)

JSE Fanfic

Man...this is it. The last one. That’s...wow. This was an AU three years in the writing, and with this, it’s over. I just...wow. I’m gonna need to just think about that for a second. Maybe wait a bit before starting something new. Anyway, this is basically wrapping everything up, taking care of all the final plot points and loose ends. There are emotional moments, including one big one, but...wow. I just have to keep saying that over and over again, it’s all I feel. The boys are settling down. Finally. Man, they’ve earned it. 

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read the whole story: Stitched Together | Season One | Season Two | Torn Apart | Tales to Tell | Threads | Twice Bitten, Never Shy | Two of Souls | The Tower | Time to End

Taglist (finally): @bupine @violet--majesty @ari-trash

It was surprisingly sunny, for an autumn day. Busy, too. Cars rushed through the streets, and pedestrians populated the pavement. Jameson shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare as he peered around a street corner and saw their destination. We’re almost there. One more block, he said, tapping the message out in Morse code on a nearby lamppost.

“Good, I hope we are not late,” Schneep replied. “What time is it?”

JJ checked the clock on his phone. 1:25. Do you think it’s already over?

“Possibly. In any case, it would be better to be early.” Schneep turned the corner, speeding up, running his cane over the sidewalk to check for cracks. JJ hurried to catch up. “Chase would be upset if we are not there.”

He’ll be fine, JJ said reassuringly, now tapping the message on Schneep’s arm. But I suppose we can make haste.

The two of them soon arrived at their destination, turning into the hospital parking lot and walking towards the building’s front entrance. “Oh! I think he is here, yes?” Schneep said.

Yes, I can see him. JJ waved. Chase was standing outside the glass doors, bouncing on his feet and scanning the area. He had his usual bandanna and cap, but was wearing a new sweater, one that the others had given him as a group birthday present to make up for missing it a few months ago, and an old backpack Stacy had lent him. Once he saw JJ waving he smiled, and waved back.

“Ha! Knew it. I am getting good at this,” Schneep said proudly. “If only sensing souls could help with telling apart the toothpaste and burn cream.”

JJ laughed, muffled as usual, and the two of them hurried across the parking lot. Chase ran up to meet them at the edge of the sidewalk. “Hey guys!” he said. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” Schneep said lightheartedly. “Well, well? Did everything go fine?”

“Oh, uh, mostly.” Chase rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. He wasn’t wearing his wristbands. Instead, there were white bandages. “She managed to get the ones on my wrists off, but said she didn’t want to risk messing with the one on my neck. It’s close to an artery or something? I don’t know, it was some complicated medical stuff.”

“Ah. That is too bad,” Schneep said sadly. Jameson shook his head sympathetically. “But it is glad to hear some of the stitches are gone. I told you that Darla was good. Trustworthy, too. She will not tell anyone.”

“If you say so, doc.” Pulling his sleeves down, Chase turned to JJ. “Are you sure you don’t want to try? I mean, it’s a lot more inconvenient for you than it is for me.”

JJ hesitated, then nodded. I am fine, he signed. I’ve gotten used to it, and yes, there are many downsides, but considering what happened last week, I think it is good enough.

“Man. If you’re really sure,” Chase said reluctantly. “They’re already a bit looser, right? Maybe whatever magic’s making them hard to cut through will fade over time.”

“Wait, Jameson, did you bring up last week?” Schneep whacked JJ’s legs with his cane. “I said that you should not try yourself! Things could go wrong!” He paused. “But everything is fine, right?”

Yes, it was a shallow cut, JJ said. Your scissors are pretty sharp.

“I know. They are not normal, and I am starting to think they were always supposed to be weapons.” Schneep sighed. “Well, I am putting them away soon.”

JJ and Chase exchanged a significant look. “You’re gonna put them away?” Chase repeated.

Schneep nodded. “If I need them again, it won’t be hard to pull them out.”

In the month since they’d finally gotten rid of the strings, Schneep had kept carrying the scissors around. Just in case, he’d said. Just in case those glowing green strands of black magic managed to worm their way back into the world. But the past month had been quiet. Busy in other ways, but nothing had appeared to attack any of them. So maybe ‘just in case’ wasn’t going to come. Maybe it would be fine to leave them at home. Or, well, in whatever pocket dimension they came from.

“If you’re sure, doc,” Chase said. “A-anyway, it’s a bit past 1:30. We should hurry, or we’ll be late to meet up with the others. You guys walked here? C’mon, there’s a bus stop across the street.”

We’d definitely be on time if you drove us, JJ said teasingly.

“Hey, I can’t be blamed for not having a car.”

Ask Stacy.

“Nah, it’s fine. I should practice a bit before I do any serious driving, anyway. It’s been a while.”

“You took the bus here?” Schneep asked, puzzled. “But what about people sitting next to you?”

“It’s okay, I just put the backpack next to me. And it’s alright if it’s you guys.” Chase stepped off the sidewalk curb and onto the parking lot asphalt. “Now let’s go.”

The bus ride was short, and soon the three of them were getting off at a stop outside a small restaurant—or, more of a cafe, really. Despite being near lunchtime, the place was almost empty when they walked in. Soft piano music was playing over a speaker system, and a chalk signboard near the front entrance read “Please Seat Yourselves” with a hand-drawn smiley face. Chase read the sign out loud, and the three of them spotted the rest of the group, sitting at a table in the corner of the dining area, right by a window.

Jack had looked up at the sound of the bell chiming when the door opened. “Hey, they’re here,” he said to the other two sitting at the table.

“Huh? Oh, good.” Jackie was turning the menu over and over, listening to the sound of the laminated paper against the air. Marvin didn’t say anything. His head was leaning against the glass of the window, eyes closed, a pair of earbuds blocking out most sound. But he did make a small sound of acknowledgement.

“Hey guys.” Chase arrived first, taking the chair across from Marvin, next to the wall. Schneep and JJ took the next two. “Did you already order?”

“No, I told the waiter that we were waiting for people,” Jack explained. “But, more importantly, how’d it go? Are they gone?”

“Wrists are.” Chase once again pulled back his sleeves. For a moment, Jackie glanced at the bandages on his wrists, then bit his lip and looked away. “Apparently the neck stitches are too close to an artery or something. She didn’t want to mess with it.”

“Shit. Well, two out of three’s not bad,” Jack said.

“Jack, my friend, how are the repairs going?” Schneep asked.

“Pretty good, I think. The walls just got repainted, and the living room has new chairs and stuff. Still a long way to go.” Jack laughed. “Honestly I’m just glad that the water and Internet didn’t go out.”

Are the police still talking to you? JJ asked.

“No, not really. You guys?”

The other three all shook their heads. Dealing with the police had been...complicated. They had to, of course. They couldn’t just go back to their old lives without people asking “what the hell happened to you?!”JJ had it the easiest, in a way. Nobody had reported him missing, which was a bit sad when he thought about it, and all the regular patrons of his shop had assumed it closed down. Jack and Chase had more difficulty, since they were pretty public figures. The moment Jack had uploaded a video explaining he was back, the Internet had gone up in flames wondering where he’d been.

In the end, they all decided on the same story. It was pretty lame, as Chase often said, but it worked. They all just lied and said they didn’t remember anything. Weird stitches on Chase’s wrists and neck? Nope. Scars all over Jack’s body? Don’t know what happened there. Schneep losing an entire sense and gaining weird scars that looked like tears dripping from his eyes? No idea, officer. The police had prodded them, but eventually given up, essentially leaving the case unsolved and concluding it was a strange psychological phenomenon. The case would go down in history, but nobody would know the truth.

Of course, when it came to Marvin and Jackie coming back to life, things were going to be a bit difficult. Fortunately, they had magic on their side.

“Have any of you heard from Yvonne?” Jack asked, sliding each of them a menu.

“Dude, why would she talk to me? I’m the least magical person here,” Chase said.

Not since she offered to help, JJ added.

Schneep merely shook his head and picked up the menu. “Oh! They actually have—”

“Yeah, I explained the situation when the waiter came over and he gave me a Braille copy,” Jack explained. “Anyway, she called me the other day. Says that the records should be all fixed now.”

“I still say that can’t be legal,” Chase muttered.

“It’s not.” Everyone jumped, a bit surprised to hear Marvin talk. He didn’t move from his position against the window or open his eyes, but he did continue. “She’s not really into stuff being legal, you know. Normal laws or magic laws. Always thought they got in the way, that...that...her. That...name.”

“Yvonne.” Jackie gently bumped Marvin’s shoulder with his own.

“Right.”

Jack gave the others a meaningful look. Memory issues. One of the lingering side effects Marvin and Jackie were dealing with. They could forget something in seconds. Jackie had taken to writing things down, if not with an actual pen and paper, then by finger-spelling it on his hand over and over. Marvin just sort of let it happen, only writing down the really important stuff. “Anyway, it’s all fixed,” Jack continued, looking back over at the other two. “You guys can...y’know, start doing stuff again. When you want. Move out, if you feel like it.”

“Thanks,” Jackie said. He sounded oddly reluctant. Marvin didn’t even bother to answer.

Chase cleared his throat. “Speaking of moving out, Schneep, did you get your apartment back yet?”

Schneep scowled. “I am so close. The stupid building owner is still insisting on keeping it all preserved, and I say, ‘for what?!’ You are clearly not going to sell it, if everything is still how it is when I was living there. So just let me live in! The police do not care anymore, anyway, so there is no crime scene!”

He probably liked the idea of having a flat where someone who disappeared lived, JJ suggested. It lends a bit of mystery and gives the building a reputation. People might want to move in because of that.

“Well he will still have it! I will just be actually there!” Schneep folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “Ugh. Jamie, I like you, but your guest room is tiny.”

JJ gave a huff of a laugh. Sorry, Hen. I’d never really needed one before so I didn’t hear any complaints. 

“Oh, Chase, what about you? How’s the house search coming?” Jack asked.

“Fine.” Chase shrugged. “I got a few to look at. Y’know Stacy doesn’t seem to mind me staying over. I was surprised, given how she, um...wanted to move out so much a few years ago.”

“Well, things change,” Jack said cheerfully.

“Yeah. I guess that’s an upside of this, we’re, like...friends.” Chase said the word in a tone of bewildered, but welcomed, happiness. The way someone would react to hearing good news that they’d thought was no longer an option. “Again, I mean. A-and I don’t think it’s gonna go further, but...still.”

“That’s great, my friend.” Schneep patted the back of Chase’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s great!” Jackie repeated, suddenly enthusiastic. “So, like, we should order food, right?”

“Oh right.” Jack nodded. “Hang on.” He stood up, looking towards the back of the restaurant where the door to the kitchen was. A waiter was walking out at that moment, and caught sight of the group, quickly indicating he’d be right there. “Oh, nice. I was confused, really, if like this was the type of place where people would come over or if we had to go up there.” Jack sat back down and picked up the menu. “We should go all out. This is a celebration.”

I think I can get a drink, JJ signed slowly.

“Really?” Jack asked, surprised.

Yes, I think the stitches have loosened up enough for that, JJ said more confidently. A small straw or a bit of liquid. Just so long as nobody’s looking when I take off my mask.

“Awesome, man,” Chase said cheerfully. “Honestly, this place looked good on the website. We should get a lot.”

“Celebration,” Schneep repeated, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, that sounds wonderful. Celebration lunch.”

And for most of them, it was just that, wonderful. They were meeting up again, the last of their troubles were ending. Things were looking up.

But a corner of the table was a bit gloomier. Jackie and Marvin were pretty quiet all throughout the lunch. Neither of them ate that much. Marvin kept his eyes closed or looking down at his plate, and Jackie paid more attention to the salt and pepper shakers than anything else. Once the lunch was over and after everyone said their goodbyes, they followed Jack back to his apartment, where they were staying, and drifted off to separate activities. A book for Marvin, an old laptop for Jackie.

They never once said anything to each other.

— — — — — — —

Ignisa: a spell to conjure fire.

Marvin read the simple command word over and over, repeating it mentally. Ignisa. Ignisa. It was one of the simplest spells out there, and one of the first ones he learned. He could visualize the page of the book he read it in. He remembered it. Really, he did. Most of the time. For the occasions that he didn’t he’d written down the command and what it did on a spare bit of paper.

“Ignisa,” he whispered, staring down at his hands, cupped as if to hold water. He sat in the center of the floor in the spare bedroom, as far away from furniture as possible. “Ignisa. Ig-NI-sa. IG-ni-sa. Ig-ni-SA.” Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it, no matter how he pronounced it or how loud he spoke it, no matter how much he concentrated on the feeling of fire bursting forth in his hands...there wasn’t even a spark.

“Fuck.” Marvin gave up, burying his face in his hands. He squeezed his eyes to contain tears of frustration, but he still let one or two sobs slip out. Why couldn’t he do anything? No fire, no lights, no telekinesis. All the magic he remembered was useless. The only spell that sort of worked was teleportation, in fact he actually found it easier now than it used to be, but he couldn’t quite control it. If he was lucky, he’d end up close to where he wanted to be, and if he was unlucky, he teleported to the middle of the sky twenty miles away. That...hadn’t been a fun evening.

There were only a few spells that worked perfectly for him. Taking a few deep breaths, Marvin lifted his head up, and pressed his hands close together, palm to palm. Slowly, he pulled them away from each other. In the space between them were blue glowing threads of magic, which got longer the farther apart his hands got. If he wanted, he could use these strings like a weapon, grabbing things, pinning them to the wall, and maybe with practice he could use them to swing, like some sort of discount magical Spider-Man. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want anything to do with these. Scowling, Marvin brushed his hands together, and the strings disappeared.

Someone knocked on the door, and Marvin yelped in surprise. He quickly got to his feet. “Wh-who is it?”

“It’s Jack,” a voice said. “Can I come in?”

“Um...sure.”

Jack opened the door, poking his head in through the gap. “Hey Jackie’s making noodles for dinner. Do you want any?”

Did he? Marvin wasn’t really hungry. He didn’t really feel hungry that often anymore. Or maybe he did, and just couldn’t recognize the feeling. Jackie was the same way, but that didn’t stop him from trying to eat. After a bit, Marvin decided it would probably be better safe than sorry. “...Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jack hesitated. “Do you...want anything? Need anything?”

Marvin hesitated. He glanced over at Jack before looking away. Wait, why was one of Jack’s eyes a slightly different shade of blue? When had that—oh. Right. “No.”

“Alright...if you’re sure,” Jack said reluctantly. “Come out whenever you’re ready.” And with that, he left.

Just in time, too. Marvin backed up until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Immediately, he fell back onto the mattress, pressing his hands against his eyes. “Stop thinking about it,” he said to himself. “Stop thinking about it, stop it, stop.” That only seemed to make it worse. Images flashed in his head, leftover memories that weren’t his, but also were, and were also Jackie’s and someone else’s. The others called him Anti. Anti’s memories. They would pop up whenever something triggered them, and that ‘something’ was usually one of the others. Right now, the memories were about Jack, about what happened to his eye. Marvin could hear himself—no, Anti—laughing.

Shaking, Marvin slowly stood up again, staggering across the room to the door. Why was it that sometimes, his balance just didn’t work? Why was he so clumsy now? He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t open it, just pressing his forehead into the wood. These were the consequences for his actions. The memories, the problems with his magic, the lack of balance. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t gotten into his head that trying the transference spell would be fine, that not telling Jackie wouldn’t cause any problems...It hadn’t even been about helping people, like how Jackie probably wanted to, he just wanted to see if he could do it, to see if he could increase his power. And he caused everything. So this was his punishment. Served him right.

— — — — — — —

“Marvin says he wants dinner,” Jack said, leaning into the kitchen/dining room.

“Okay,” Jackie said cheerfully, grabbing another bowl from the cabinet. It was easy, since that particular cabinet was missing its door. It would probably stay that way for a while, too, since with all the other repairs the apartment required it wasn’t a high enough priority. Jackie set the bowl on the counter next to two others, then looked over at the pot of water. It wasn’t steaming or boiling. Did he forget to turn the heat on? He tapped the edge of the burner under the pot.

“Jackie!” Jack gasped.

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s not on,” Jackie assured him. “I was just checking.”

“You mean you didn’t know if it was on?!”

“It probably wasn’t.” Jackie looked up to see the dial hadn’t been turned. Oh. He probably could have looked at the dial before touching the burner. Well, whatever. He reached over and turned the dial to the 7 mark.

“Please be careful,” Jack said, looking nervous. “You could get hurt.”

“I am being careful,” Jackie said. It didn’t really matter, anyway. He was having trouble feeling pain lately. Or...most things, actually. It was weird, he was a bit numb. Not by too much, but enough to be noticeable, to know that he hadn’t been like that before. Marvin was just the opposite, nowadays he was constantly being overwhelmed with the texture and feel of things. But he was always more sensitive to sensations than the rest of them.

“Well, be even more careful,” Jack insisted. He backed out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna, uh, hang out in the living room. Tell me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Jackie nodded. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Alright.” Jack hesitated for a second before turning away and leaving.

Everything was fine. Jack really didn’t need to worry, Jackie had everything covered. Making food was easy, really. It was something that he did all the time. The process was automatic, especially for making pasta. Just wait for a bit, occasionally stirring, then drain the water. It was all good. This was a normal thing that normal people did. Things were normal.

Of course, Jackie knew that every single thing he’d just thought to himself was a lie. But it was easier to pretend. Sometimes he pretended so hard that it felt like he was watching a movie filmed in the first-person, instead of actually existing in this body.

Oh, it was happening now, actually. Jackie watched as his hand pulled open the cutlery drawer and took out a long spoon. Then the hand started stirring the pasta in the pot. It was starting to get hot now. There was steam. How hot was it? The other hand reached forward and—

“Shit!” Jackie snapped back to reality, pulling his hand away from the side of the metal pot. “Ah. Fuck.” He looked down. The skin of his fingers was a bit red and tender. He opened and closed his fist a few times to help the leftover burning feeling fade away.

“Is everything okay?” Jack was back, apparently having heard Jackie shout. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just brushed against the side,” Jackie explained.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Well...okay, then.” Jack reluctantly backed out of view.

Everything was fine. Oh look, the pasta was suddenly done. Time had just flown past. Jackie poured the pasta into the strainer and then scooped it into the bowls. Marvin showed up, and then Jack, and they all ate in silence, after which Jack excused himself to go back to his recording room to do some editing. The moment he’d replaced all the broken computer parts, he’d gone back to making videos, though not nearly as frequently as before. That was...nice. Nice that he could do that.

Jackie wondered what he was supposed to do now. Not just for the rest of the day, but...for the rest of ever. He wanted things to be fine, to be normal, and he was pretty good at pretending they were. But they. Just. Weren’t. He couldn’t find the energy to start looking for a job, or for a new apartment, or even for new clothes. But at the same time, he didn’t want to keep borrowing from Jack. He didn’t want to just stay in place, but he couldn’t move forward.

At one point, he’d thought about going back out onto the streets. He didn’t know what happened to his old super suit, but he could make a new one. Then that train of thought had immediately crashed to a halt with a flash of memory. Not his, but also his. Anti’s. A memory with so much pain in it, and feeling glad at that pain. Somehow triumphantly vindicated to see suffering. No. Someone like that couldn’t be a hero.

So things continued. The same things. Every day.

Everything was fine.

— — — — — — —

Time passed. Autumn progressed, and it became cooler as September blended into October. Jack kept fixing up the apartment, and it was beginning to look good as new. Schneep finally convinced the building owner to let him back into his place, and so he moved out of JJ’s building. Chase was still having trouble finding a house, but he was glad to spend more time with Lily and Moira, absolutely doting on the two of them. Business at JJ’s shop started to pick up again, though he had to get used to carrying around a notepad since most customers didn’t know sign language.

Jackie and Marvin stayed where they were.

One night, a storm rolled over the city. Rain pounded the ground, thunder rumbled in the distance, and nobody went out of their houses. That night, Marvin went into the apartment’s bathroom and pressed his face against the small window to watch the storm. There wasn’t much to see. The glass was cloudy for privacy. But there was water running down the other side, droplets racing each other to the bottom.

Then there was a flash, and a fork of lightning split the window in half. A second later came the thunder. Marvin heard someone gasp, and jumped, spinning around to see Jackie standing in the open bathroom doorway. “Oh. Sorry,” Jackie muttered. “I just saw the lights on in here and—nevermind.”

Marvin just looked at him for a bit, then turned back to the window. Jackie stood there for a moment, then started to turn away.

“Jackie?”

He stopped at the sound of Marvin’s quiet voice. “Yeah?”

“Are we...bad people?”

Jackie didn’t answer, and that was an answer on its own.

“Should we...be here?”

“What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

Marvin started pulling at his fingers. “Just...what if something...happens?”

Jackie paled. “I-it’ll be okay. It’s all okay.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them moved. Then, quietly, Jackie admitted something. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You don’t?” Marvin finally turned around.

“I don’t think I should,” Jackie whispered. “Just...everyone is nice to us. But we...hurt them. Or, kind of us. I mean, he was still us, right?”

Marvin nodded. “I remember doing it.”

“Me too.”

“He can’t come back, though. Right?”

“I mean...no,” Jackie said slowly. “But what if we...what if something happens?” He echoed Marvin’s own words back at him.

Marvin was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be here, either.”

“Should we leave?”

“What would we do?”

“I don’t know.” Jackie glanced down the hall, towards Jack’s bedroom. “But they’re...good people. And we’re.... We don’t...” He trailed off.

Another crack of thunder.

“Should we leave a note?” Marvin asked.

“No. They can figure it out. Should we stay together?”

“Maybe at first.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, the power in the apartment building went out. Jack left his bedroom, holding a flashlight. “Hey guys? The storm knocked the lights out. You okay?”

No answer. Not surprising, Jackie and Marvin could be pretty quiet. So Jack went to look for them.

But...they weren’t there. Not in the spare bedroom, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, not in the living room. “Guys?” he called, voice rising in worry. “Guys?!”

Still no answer. Swearing under his breath, Jack went back to his bedroom and picked up his phone from where he’d left it. He opened up the group chat and sent a message.

Jackie and Marvin are gone. I think they’ve left.

— — — — — — —

It was still storming when they got off the bus to look around. With the rain pouring down, it was hard to make out details of anything. There were the vague, tall shapes of buildings, the long stretches of clear roads and sidewalks...but everything else was a bit cloudy. “We should’ve brought an umbrella,” Marvin said, trying to shield himself from the rain by covering his head with his arms. It didn’t work.

“I didn’t think he had one,” Jackie said, peering through the falling water. “Do you want my jacket?”

“No, I’m fine.” Marvin shivered.

“I...okay, if you’re sure you’re alright,” Jackie said reluctantly. “Here, there’s a street sign over on that corner.” He walked up to the sign, Marvin trailing after him. “Uh...Everwood Lane. I...I don’t remember where that is. Do you?”

“No,” Marvin admitted. They hadn’t really had much of a plan, had they? Just up and left, trusting they’d figure it out in the moment. Saw a bus stopping at a nearby station, and hopped aboard, pretending to swipe bus passes so the driver, who wasn’t really paying any attention, wouldn’t notice. Then they’d gotten off at random, once they realized they’d been sitting in the bus for a while and they had to be far away by then. Why had they thought any of that would be a good idea? Why had he just gone along with it? 

“Well, uh. Let’s get inside.” Jackie pressed on, now walking up to the entrance of the nearest building. “Maybe we can ask someone in there, and it’ll be dry.” See? This would work out.

Luckily, that building turned out to be open, and they stepped into a front hall. It looked nice, but was completely empty. The only things of note were the pair of elevators, the door labelled ‘Stairwell,’ another unlabelled door, and a directory on a sign attached to the wall.

“No one’s here,” Marvin muttered.

“Someone has to be here, everything’s on.” Jackie scanned the directory. The building was nine floors tall, plus the ground floor, and every floor was listed as belonging to some business, each with operating hours attached. “Uh...what time is it?”

“...I don’t remember,” Marvin said. “And there’s no clock here. And we don’t have phones.”

“It’s fine, we’ll—we’ll just check around,” Jackie said optimistically. He walked over to the unmarked door and grabbed the handle, starting to push it open. Only to stop short when the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. Okay. That was fine. There were more options. Jackie turned around. “C’mon, we’ll take the lifts.”

“Mm-hmm.” Marvin nodded, following him to the elevators.

The elevator arrived, doors sliding open, and the two of them stepped in. “Right, we’ll just start with the first floor,” Jackie said, pressing the button. He waited for a few seconds, but the elevator wasn’t moving. The button hadn’t lit up. “Um...” He pressed it again. Then a couple more times. Then he tried the other buttons, pushing them hard.

“There’s a card reader attached,” Marvin pointed out, nodding towards a black box mounted on the elevator’s panel. “I don’t think it’ll work without the right card.”

“Oh.” Jackie was momentarily at a loss, but then he recovered. They just had to keep moving. That’s all. “I guess we’ll take the stairs, then.”

The stairwell was tall, white, and empty, metal stairs spiralling upwards with only a railing keeping the people walking up and down from falling off. Jackie led the way, climbing up the stairs quickly with Marvin a bit behind. But there was no luck. All the doors that led into the floors were blocked by the same card readers as in the elevators. Just in case, Jackie still tried to open them, both pushing and pulling, but to no avail. So they just kept climbing, stopping at every story so Jackie could try the doors with increasing desperation, while Marvin watched him with increasing annoyance.

Until finally, they reached the last door, this one labelled ‘Roof Access.’ Surprisingly, this one didn’t have a card reader. Jackie hesitated, then pushed it open, letting in a spray of rain from the storm outside. 

“Okay, this was useless,” Marvin said. “Let’s—”

“Well, maybe there’s someone outside,” Jackie suggested.

“In the rain?”

But Jackie was already heading out, pulling on his hood as he stepped into the storm.

Of course there wasn’t anyone there. Disregarding the misery of the weather, it was hard to see anything, including the railing that marked the edge of the roof. It would be dangerous to be up there. But Jackie still walked forward, looking around, until he eventually found that railing along the edge, grabbing the rain-slicked metal to orient himself.

“No one’s here!” Marvin shouted over a clap of thunder. He’d followed Jackie out onto the roof and was now standing about an arm’s length behind him, looking extremely unhappy about the whole situation. “Let’s go!”

“Right.” Jackie nodded. “We’ll just—just try another building, and ask where we are.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll—we’ll get a hotel.”

“How will we pay for it?”

“Uh...okay, not a hotel. We’ll...find our way to someone’s house, o-or something, and ask if we can stay.”

“What if no one lets us in?”

“We’ll—we’ll find an empty building.” Jackie grasped desperately at a way to salvage this situation, a way that wouldn’t involve them going back. He wasn’t even sure he could find his way back; he’d forgotten Jack’s address somewhere on the way. “Yeah. And then we’ll go to sleep, and in the morning, figure out a better plan. Yeah! It’s fine. Everything will be fi—”

“Everything will not be fucking fine, Jackie!” Marvin suddenly burst out. “This was a terrible idea! Why did we think to do this?! Why did I go along with it?! It’s raining, there’s lightning, we’re lost, my clothes are wet which I hate more than murder, and you’re being delusional!”

“I—I am being optimistic!” Jackie spluttered, letting go of the railing so he could face Marvin head-on. “I am trying to make the best of a difficult situation—”

“We shouldn’t even be out here!” Marvin interrupted. Another crack of thunder rang throughout the sky, even louder than before. “You suggested this! Why’d you suggest it?”

“Well, why did you ask if we should’ve been staying with the others if you weren’t prepared to leave?” Jackie countered. “You didn’t have to come with me! You didn’t have to go out at all!”

“Oh yeah, what was I going to do, tell Jack and the others, ‘sorry, I don’t know where they went, they said they were leaving and I thought that was alright’? No!”

“You could’ve convinced me to stay!” Jackie shouted. “You could’ve shot it down when I said it! But you went along, so you must have wanted to leave, too!”

“I—yeah, but it was more of a vague thing!” Marvin protested. “A what-if! I didn’t expect us to go right then!”

Jackie grabbed Marvin by the shirt. “Then why did you leave?! Why did we leave?! Why did we want to leave?!”

The sky lit up a brilliant white, electricity crashing. A bolt of lightning had hit a lightning rod attached to the building’s roof, only a room’s width away from the two of them. Sparks flew. Marvin screamed. Jackie instinctively covered him, hugging him tight to his chest and bending over. The sound was deafening, thunder right next to their heads, and even after it faded their ears echoed with the remains of it.

“Holy shit!” Jackie gasped, blinking the brilliant light from his eyes. His eyes...which were now glowing. The left was bright green, the right an equally bright red. Marvin’s were also glowing, though his right eye was the green one, and the other one was blue. “That was—oh my god. Marvin, are you okay?”

Marvin didn’t answer for a moment. He just stared at the lightning rod, still faintly glowing from being struck. And then...he let out a quiet sob.

“M...Marvin?” Jackie took a closer look at him, and realized his face wasn’t just wet from the rain. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not,” Marvin cried. “All I could think about while we were walking up those stairs—all I could think about were the memories, the—you know the ones, the—I wasn’t even there, I was somewhere else. I hate this. I hate this! I hate what’s happened to me! I hate that it’s my fault!”

“Your fault?!” Jackie repeated.

“My stupid fucking selfish spell,” Marvin sobbed. “It’s all because of that! Everything happened because of that! Of course I should’ve realized, if the things I did after the spell were—were like that, then of course! Of course I’m a horrible fucking person that wouldn’t care about what that spell might do!”

“Marvin—”

“And you’re just going around acting like everything is alright!” Marvin said, jabbing a finger into Jackie’s chest. “You just like—like nothing happened, you keep saying everything is fine, it might be for you, but it’s not for me! No it’s fine, it doesn’t matter!”

“I just want everything to move on, Marvin!” Jackie said, grasping Marvin’s upper arms and pulling him close. “Everything has to be fine, but it’s not, so I have to pretend it is! Because if I stop pretending, all I can think about is what I’ve done. Every time I look at the others, I remember how I hurt them! Every time I look at you, I remember how I killed you!”

Silence, and the sound of rain.

“I didn’t...didn’t know you felt that way,” Marvin said, barely audible.

“I didn’t know you did, either,” Jackie whispered.

“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” Marvin commented dully. “Aren’t we connected now? Aren’t our souls all...mixed up with each other?”

“Yeah...” Jackie nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of them stared at each other. Eyes wide, hearts pounding, breathing heavy. Letting themselves be rained on. Until—

The door to the rooftop burst open, and a couple flashlight beams fell onto the two of them.

“Marv!”

“Jackie!”

“My friends!”

It was the others. All of them. Chase was in front with Jack close behind, then Schneep in the back holding onto Jameson’s arm for extra support. “Are you two okay?!” Chase asked.

“What happened?!” Jack added.

Is everything alright? JJ signed.

“Why did you go?” Schneep said.

Jackie took a step backwards, letting go of Marvin, who was too in shock to even notice. “You guys...h-how’d you find us?”

“JJ did,” Chase explained.

Luckily the tracking spell still works, JJ said. How did you two even get here? It’s the other side of town!

“I...we took the bus,” Jackie said numbly. “How—why are you here?”

“We came to find you, of course!” Schneep said, as if it was obvious.

“Why?” Marvin asked quietly.

“What?! Because you’re our friends!” Chase said, gaping. “If you leave to go out with no note, no anything, in the middle of a thunderstorm—” Thunder rumbled in the distance as if to prove his point. “—and without any way for anyone to contact you, anything could have happened! We were so fucking worried!”

“...why?” Marvin repeated.

“You’re our friends,” Jack reiterated. “We care about you. What if you got hurt? That would be—fuck. I-I don’t even want to think about it.”

Jackie felt tears in his eyes, and he let them slip out, hidden by the rain. “But—but it was going to be better this way.”

“Better? Better?!” Schneep repeated incredulously. “No no no no no no, we went through so much to see you again. You cannot just disappear! And less expect us to be fine with it!”

“But...w-we—I—I hurt you!” Jackie blurted out. “So much! I mean, look at yourselves! You still have the scars!”

“That wasn’t you,” Chase said gently, slowly approaching. “That was Anti.”

“Well, Anti was us.”

“Anti was two parts you guys and, like, seventeen parts black magic,” Chase said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it,” Marvin muttered. “You’d say the same if you remembered doing it.”

“What if something happens?” Jackie said, his voice hushed. “What if we...while we’re around you guys, what if we...hurt you? Th-there’s a possibility, right? As long as we’re around.”

Jack’s next question was soft, almost unheard through the rain. “You don’t want to hurt anyone, right?”

“No!” Jackie said, aghast. Marvin shook his head furiously.

“Then you won’t,” Jack said firmly. “I mean, sure, there will be accidents. But you can’t run from everyone because you’re afraid you might hurt them. A life like that would be so lonely. We trust you. Both of you. And you trust us. That’s what friendship’s built on, isn’t it? Trust.”

Jackie fell silent. The four of them stood firm, agreeing with Jack’s sentiment. Did they...really want them to stay?

“We don’t—” Marvin stammered. “I-I-I don’t—we’re—I’m—not...the type of person...who should have friends.”

“What?” Jack asked, shocked.

“You’re all so nice, a-and good,” Marvin said. “We...I don’t...deserve you.”

“That is ridiculous,” Schneep said. “Marvin, and Jackie, you are both some of the best friends I ever had, and the same goes for everyone else.”

“We’re not...good people,” Marvin said desperately. “If we were Anti, we can’t have been. Good people wouldn’t become...that. A-and you’re all just saying it ‘cause you’re friends.”

Can I say something? JJ, who’d been waiting on the sidelines, finally spoke up. Look, I barely know either of you. I’m new to all this. But I can tell that neither of you are bad people. Flawed, yes, but so is everyone. Chase said that Anti was mostly black magic, and he’s right. You can’t be blamed for what that entity did; its perception was warped and broken. You two are nice, you seem smart, you’re friendly to others. You are not bad people.

“Look, I know, it’s hard to accept that you deserve nice things,” Chase jumped in. “But you do. You want to step away from friends and good things because you think you’re not worthy. It’s gonna be hard to accept that you are. But that’s why we’re here, okay? To help you accept that.”

“And to point out when you need something,” Schneep added. “Something that you think is above you. I swear, I will fight every single bad thought you have, anything that tells you that you do not deserve all the care and love that you do.”

Jack laughed a bit. “Yeah. We all will.”

Both of them were crying, and despite the falling rain, it was quite obvious. Marvin reached over and grabbed Jackie’s hand, pulling him close. “I...I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Jackie nodded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice rasping. “I...we should...I’m going to go back. Are you going to?”

“Yeah. I’m going back, too.”

Jackie nodded again, then let go of Marvin’s hand. He took a deep breath, and walked over to join the others.

Marvin shivered. The rain was starting to feel even colder than it had before. But as he carefully stepped towards the group, it felt a bit warmer.

The moment the two were close, the remaining four huddled around them. Hands were held and tears were shed, slowly joining together in a tight group hug. Everyone kept saying how proud they were of them, how happy they were to have them back, how much they loved them. And more tears leaked out, though of a different sort of emotion altogether. They were so caught up in the moment that they didn’t even notice the rain until they headed back down the stairs.

And as the six headed home, the storm started to lessen.

— — — — — — —

“Can’t believe it’s actually snowing,” Jack muttered, brushing white flakes off his coat. “It never snows here.”

“I like it.” Jackie looked around, taking in the white blanket covering the park, then up at the sky. “Everything looks all clean. I like how the snow is all smooth.”

“Mm. Won’t be for long.” Jack pointed. The two of them were content to sit at a picnic table, sheltered from the snowfall by a nearby tree. But some ways away, two girls were running through the snow, pelting their dad with snowballs. Chase was laughing. It was good to see. Lily tripped over something in the snow, and he bent over to help her up. “There’s gonna be so many footprints when they’re done with it.”

“Aw.” Jackie frowned, pulling his coat closer. He didn’t really feel the cold, but it still affected him, so he had to make sure to dress appropriately for any weather. “Hey...when will the others be here? Do you think they forgot we were going to meet up?”

“I don’t—wait.” Jack paused. “Nope, there they are.”

A car pulled into the nearby lot, and three people stepped out. JJ recently got his license, so he and Chase had become the chauffeurs of the group. He looked around, then waved at the others, turning back to point them out to Marvin and Schneep. The three headed over, and Jack and Jackie made room for them at the table.

“It is so cold!” Schneep immediately started complaining. “There is going to be so much ice later, it is awful!”

“Oh shush, you like having cold weather so you can have warm drinks and stuff,” Marvin said.

“Okay, yes, but that is inside, where I cannot risk the chance of slipping,” Schneep griped.

JJ laughed. Speaking of warm drinks. He pulled his backpack off and rifled through it, taking out a couple thermoses. I thought if we were going to be meeting up out here, we should keep hot.

“Oh nice!” Jack grabbed one with his name written on the side in sharpie. “What’s this?”

Tea and coffee. And hot chocolate for the kids, JJ explained.

“Sweet,” Jackie said, leaning over to grab one as well.

“So, uh...” Jack cleared his throat, and turned to Marvin. “How’d it go?”

Marvin leaned back, rocking slightly on the picnic bench. “Good, I think. I mean, it’s just the first session, but...it was a good sign, I guess.”

“Hey, uh, Marv?” Jackie said. “I...forgot the address.”

“Oh. Right. It’s uh...Hang on a moment.” Marvin pulled out his phone, opening up the notes. “547 Norwich, on the east side. You can’t miss it, there’s a big sign with ‘Riverwood Counseling” on the front. You’re, uh...going soon?”

“Next week.” Jackie copied the address into his own phone. “‘M a bit nervous,” he mumbled.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” Schneep said encouragingly. “They are very good, very reputable. And if things are not working, they will transfer you to someone new without any charge.”

Jackie smiled a bit. “Well, I guess if you guys trust them.”

At that moment, Chase and the girls got tired of their snowball fight and came over to the table. “Hi!” Lily said brightly. “Ooooh, what’s that?”

“It’s a thermos,” Moira explained to her sister. “They’re for hot things like soup. And hot chocolate.”

“Well, would you look at that? There are two with your names on them,” Chase said brightly. “Here you go. JJ, you brought them, right?”

JJ nodded. Cocoa for them. And this one has some tea for you.

“Oh sweet! Thanks, Jays.”

It had been a few months, and the group had decided to meet up for some casual catching up. Chase had finally gotten a new house, just a rental but he hoped to find one for himself eventually. Schneep had started taking online classes. Since he couldn’t exactly continue his surgeon profession he decided to go back and find something else to do. He was particularly interested in physics, and he was convinced that it could explain how his new magic worked. Jack’s apartment was almost entirely repaired, and the Internet had finally settled down about his disappearance. JJ’s shop was picking up business again.

And Marvin and Jackie? Well, they’d found themselves a new place. A small townhouse, just big enough for both of them, part of a row of houses with connected walls. At first, they’d debated whether or not to continue living together or to live separately, but eventually decided on the former. After all, they still had problems, with memory and movement, and more, and decided it would be easier to live with someone who could help out. They were still working on finding new jobs. Jackie wanted something active, and Marvin wanted something quiet. The search was slow going, but they were making do. Jackie had been particularly bored at night, but didn’t want to go out and try being a vigilante again. Maybe eventually. Marvin was still relearning how to use his magic, and was teaching Jackie how to, as well, given Jackie’s new abilities.

The group had been talking for about half an hour when suddenly Moira tugged on the edge of Chase’s coat. “Dad? Who’s that? She’s been staring at us.”

Chase looked over towards where Moira was pointing, and his eyes widened. “Guys. Look who it is,” he said quietly.

The others all glanced in the same direction. “Shi—oh no,” Jack muttered. “It’s that—that magician. Delyth.”

JJ sighed. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time.

“Who?” Marvin asked.

“She’s with the, uh, the magic police,” Jack explained.

“Oh fu—” Marvin quickly ducked his head, deliberately not looking over to where Delyth was standing, casually leaning against a tree.

“Should we talk to her?” Chase asked.

“I think so,” Schneep said. He paused, then stood up. “I will.”

“Wait, no, she’s coming over here!” Jackie gasped.

There was a sudden flurry of activity as the group tried to act casually, pretending they hadn’t seen her and weren’t keeping an eye on her as she walked over. Until eventually, they couldn’t pretend any longer.

Delyth stopped next to the table. “So...it is you,” she said slowly. “You know, you gave us one hell of a scare when you disappeared.”

“Hey, language,” Chase said, indicating the two small girls sitting next to him.

“Oh. Sorry.” Delyth paused. “We were looking for you, but it was like you all just...disappeared. Correct me if I’m wrong, but was a certain other magician helping with that?” Nobody answered. They weren’t about to throw Yvonne under the bus. Delyth shook her head. “Never should’ve given her access to ABIM systems,” she muttered.

“Did you want something?” Schneep asked.

“Hmm...well, no, not really.” Delyth looked them over, making eye contact with each. “You know, the ABIM is pretty busy. If a case hasn’t been active for two months, it’s deemed low priority, provided there’s no significant danger. If four months pass, we have to permanently shelve it, until there’s evidence for it becoming active again. Marked as unsolved, and people tend to forget about it.” She looked down at her watch. “Well, I have to go. It’s been nice seeing you all again. It’s been, what, five months?” After a moment, she nodded towards Jackie and Marvin. “Glad to see it all worked out. Goodbye.”

 The group remained mostly silent as she left, though Jack muttered a quiet “goodbye” and JJ waved as Delyth disappeared into a car in the parking lot and drove away. Then, once she was gone, Chase turned to the others. “What was that about?”

I think that was her saying the magicians won’t bother us, JJ signed, a bit in awe.

“Oh thank god,” Marvin breathed. “I don’t want to be on their bad side anymore. No more magic police, thank you very much.”

“She could have been a bit more direct with it, though,” Jackie added.

Jack just laughed. “Wow. So, I guess that’s the last we’ll see of her, then?”

“Provided nothing else strange happens to us,” Schneep pointed out.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. I’ve had enough strangeness for my entire life.”

So...is it over, then? JJ asked slowly.

“Dad, what was that about?” Lily asked. “Who was that? What did she mean?” Moira nodded, agreeing with all the questions.

“Oh, it’s a bit complicated.” Chase pulled his daughter close and gave her a quick hug. “But it’s nothing to worry about anymore. I’ll explain when you’re older.”

“I guess it’s over,” Jackie repeated.

“Yeah...guess so,” Jack agreed.

Time went on, as it always does. The group ended their get-together shortly after, parting ways for a short while. After a few more months, the strange disappearances faded into local legend, with people speculating what happened but nobody getting close to the truth that was only known to a small group of six friends. Magic remained, side effects lingered, but they settled back into their place, becoming the new normal.

Still, none of them forgot what happened to them for those three years. It would be hard not to. They had scars to prove it, and some memories would never fade. But the past was the past. And together, they moved on, looking forward to the future.

[crimson-spine]

Yay, home-made assault

I was a bit hesitant to share this at all (since whenever I write something too personal, I delete it immediately after), but I was assaulted two days ago in the elevator’s building where I live, and I want to talk about it.

The assault was unprovoked, out of the blue, and completely surreal. The guy punched and kicked me for no reason (he may have been “triggered” by my earphones falling, because he tried to take them, or by the fact that I wouldn’t give them to him, I don’t know, the lunatic was already wearing airpods like... bitch tf?). He didn’t utter a single word during the 5/10 minutes we were together and looked... odd is an understatement. I can only assume he had been injecting plaster and frog venom into his veins.

I received around fifteen punches on the side of the head and a few kicks on the stomach while we were stuck on the elevator basement floor, because he stayed between the open doors (I had entered the code to the basement since I had trash bags to get rid of). Being stuck in a cave with a maniac isn’t the funniest thing, trust me, the possible outcomes ran wild in my head. I fought back (there was blood on the wall, and it was not mine), and managed to get to the first floor. There was a man there I used as shield. My assailant didn’t try to touch him, but tried to go around to keep punching me (still not saying a word, which might be the craziest thing).

When the paramedics and cops got there (the guy had fled, taking the elevator back to his floor), we learned that they had intervened on the morning of the same day (on our building) to hospitalize him at the request of a third party. He’s apparently mentally ill and violent (no shit), but the clinic he should have been sent to didn’t have enough room, so they let him go back home.

Yesterday, I learned that two hours before our “fight”, he assaulted his floor’s neighbors (who didn’t call the cops and locked themselves in their apartment; I’m not judging what they thought was necessary at the moment, and I don’t know how they were attacked, if it was as brutal as for me, but in doubt, please call the fucking cops). Two assaults in the same day just after he got out of the psychiatric hospital, I need to chat with the doctor who judged him sane enough to roam free.

In the end, I’m fine, I “only” have bruises that are surfacing 48 hours after (the most painful ones being on my knuckles ✨) and every muscle ache.

Still, the guy lives where I live and wasn’t arrested. I know I was extremely lucky that he didn’t have a knife or that he wasn’t stronger. My lil sister is ten centimeters shorter than me and fifteen kilos lighter, what if it had been her? I hate the fact that we won’t be able to take the trash out, get the mail or simply fucking walk in or out of our building without going by two or being paranoid. We picked this building because there are digicodes everywhere and surveillance cameras (which were fucking turned OFF when it happened), it’s supposed to be safe, what the fuck should we do when the danger comes from inside?

What’s more frustrating is that even if I were assaulted, my injuries being “minor”, the cops can’t do much (I filed a claim, but the guy wasn’t in their records, so it wasn’t possible to clearly identify him – now, that could be solved since his neighbors know him, but only if they agree to file a claim too, which is unsure) and the repercussions will be small. He’ll still live here, and I’ll still have to make sure neither my boyfriend, my mom and, I see you @kallynkaa, try to make him disappear. I prefer them out of jail you know.

I don’t really know why I am sharing this, maybe in case anyone needs a reminder to not let your guards down even in “safe” spaces. I’m super vigilant all the time, but I always expected a fight to get started by something “logical” (for someone relatively sane I mean). I don’t even know why he punched me. He didn’t try to rip my clothes (as a passing-by lady nicely suggested at least three times; please don’t tell a victim that “maybe he was trying to rape you” i don’t need that, I’m busy hyperventilating), didn’t try to take my bag or phone, he just punched me. Repeatedly. Maybe he had hallucinations, maybe not. I will never know.

Also, don’t call for help. Call for fire. People don’t hear when you call for help.

Finally, I doubt he’ll come across this (especially written in English), but there was a really nice (Moroccan I think?) man who stayed with me waiting for my mom and the cops and who was really reassuring. I lost an important father figure this year (who was an ex-boxer, and thankfully had taught me a few moves, I might just have a nice right hook thanks to him), which fucked me up, and I can’t call my father to get his support, so even for a bit, you sir, helped a lot.

[mymymadeline]

•Friendly Dark

gif by: @chrishemsworht​​

pairing: Hallmark Christmas Movie Au! Poe Dameron x Reader 

word count: 6.9k+ words 

summary: 

warnings: alcohol cw

Adore You series: 01, 02, 03, 04, ... - AO3

Even though you’re on vacation, you are far from exempt from your work. And nothing is proving that more than the headache you nurse as you continue pouring over document after document on your tablet. Numbers and figures, charts and graphs, blueprints and sketches, even interviews and gossip articles – they’re all blending together after staring at the screen for what’s likely been hours. 

Snoke’s call the night before was not a social one – they never are. He was going on about some acquisition Kylo’s been trying to make for the past few months, and apparently, he was missing something crucial, which is where you usually come in. The two of you have always been a team for a reason. He was more of the passion and ideas, whereas you were better with relations and logistics. 

Snoke had immediately sent over hundreds of digital files for you to go through and find… well something. Most likely some kind of professional blackmail. Some kind of small violation or incident that would really be such a shame if it came to the media's attention. You know, the usual. 

So far, everything they’ve done is up to code, as far as you can tell. But Snoke won’t take no for an answer. He’d have your head for it. So you continue looking through page after page, searching for some dirt, searching for any kind of upper hand on the competition. 

After coming back in that night while on the phone with Snoke, you blew past your parents and went straight up to your room, where you’ve been for almost the entirety of this Sunday. You couldn’t even face them after that absolute embarrassment of an evening. And though this morning you did stalk around the house if only to get a thing or two to eat, you pointedly ignored your mother, only giving your father a small silent nod of acknowledgment. 

Stealing away to your room for a full day of silent, frustrating work was not exactly your idea of a fun vacation back home, but neither was last night. Just the thought of running into Poe again makes you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment and stress. He probably thinks you’re an idiot now. Probably never wants to see you again. And who could blame him if he did? 

If you were a different woman, you’d probably have shed a few embarrassed tears in the solitude of your room, but that wasn’t you. Not anymore. So you rub your eyes once again, and get back to work.

You’re back to staring at a tax filing by the company’s CEO from seventeen years ago when a notification pops up at the top of your screen.

Unknown Number

hey! its rose! i got ur number from when you called the shop lol hope thats not creepy

i was wondering if ur busy tonight? i was thinking of getting drinks w/ some friends at Kanata’s! wanna come? i can pick u up since ur ride is chopped ;)

You blink back at the notification. Drinks? At Kanata’s? 

You can’t remember the last time you actually went out with a group of friends, especially for fun. Taking clients you and Kylo were wooing out to dinner was a common occurrence. But fun? They were never.

Another wave of anxiety washes over you. Friends? Who were these friends? Would they like you? Did you know them? Maybe it would be better to just stay and finish your work. Nothing could go wrong if you did that.

You open the message, absolutely ready to type an excuse why you can’t come, when there’s a gentle knock at your door. You already recognize it as your mother by the way she knocks even before she calls out gently. 

“Love? You in there?”

“I’m here.” You leave your voice flat and emotionless. You need her to know you’re still mad.

“Can… Can I come in?” 

‘No’ dances on the tip of your tongue for a strong moment, but the uncertainty in her soft voice gives you pause. 

“...Okay.”

The door clicks open slowly and your mother pokes her head in, a small, nervous smile affecting her features. You only look at her blankly from your nest of blankets and pillows that have been on your bed since high school.

She steps more fully into the room, closing the door behind her most of the way. She leaves it open just a little, giving the both of you some air to breathe, but also, in a way, making sure not to lock herself in a cage with a wounded animal. 

And she approaches you like one–cautious, hands visible and apologetic. You huff, curled up in the corner of your bed, and try to look anywhere but at her. But she’s hard to avoid as she sits gently on the far edge of your bed and pulls her hands into her lap, looking down and rolling them over one another contemplatively. You two sit like this for a moment, simmering in the uncomfortable tension, but like hell you’re the one with anything to apologize for. 

She lets out a deep sigh. “I’m… so, so sorry… about my behavior last night. I suppose I just… wasn’t handling your absence as well as I thought I was.”

Despite the small sorrow your heart finds at her small and broken tone, the anger–rage even– that has been boiling since the night before claws desperately to be let out. You breathe deeply, and do your best to keep it still in its place. But that doesn’t exclude the fury that seeps into your quiet voice, as you level your gaze with hers.

“Mom, that was the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in my entire professional career. I need you to know this.”

She nods understandingly and looks back to her fiddling hands. “Yes. I know. And I couldn’t be sorry enough. I realized...I– I don’t know how to be your mother anymore.” You blink at this. A terrible lurch in your gut crawls into your throat at the sight of the tears silently beginning their descent down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do for you when you're a grown woman who’s accomplished so much on her own without me. I miss you, but I’m not really sure I know you anymore.”

She looks up suddenly at you, her face twisted with grief and regret.

“I didn’t mean it like that… I-”

You stop her, shaking your head, swallowing the lump in your throat, willing the sudden strange wetness in your eyes away. Your voice comes out more choked up than you wish. But whatever wall was up is quickly crumbling away.

“No… Mom, I think I understand.” You look down at your own hands now, picking at your nails nervously, silently discovering the lineage of this habit of yours. You smile sadly at the thought. “I feel that way too sometimes… about myself.”

“Oh, love.” Your mother reaches out, placing her hand on your foot, the only part of you she can reach, and squeezes it gently. She smiles sweetly, her eyes and cheeks still wet, though she’s wiped away the tears.

“You’re not my little girl anymore… but you’re still my daughter, and I’ll love you no matter what.”

You nod, suppressing a sniff as you rub at your nose. She squeezes your foot one more time before standing up and making her way back to the door. She reaches for the handle when you call out. 

“I love you, Mom.”

The smile she sends you is genuine, heartfelt, and warming to your core. It makes you realize how much you truly missed your mother, even if she had her difficulties. “I love you too, girlie.”

With that, she closes the door, leaving you alone with your tablet and the unanswered message. But you know your response now. 

Me

Sounds fun! Let me know what time. I’d love to come, if you’ll have me.

You begin entering Rose’s information into your contacts and her response is almost immediate.

Rose Tico

duuuh! ill get u at like 8ish? and we’ll meet them there! cant wait!

You look down at the message and can’t help but feel a little more at home. 

______________

 You run a hand through your hair, adjusting your outfit for the hundredth time. You’ve opted for something more casual tonight. Something a little more friendly, approachable. You suddenly frown at your reflection. You don’t need these people’s approval. Well, no. But it wouldn’t be so bad to be friendly for once would it?

The two voices in your head continue to battle it out, leaving you frozen in the mirror, desperately trying to understand how you feel in this moment. Anxious? Perhaps. Regretful of accepting this invitation? Maybe. 

Your phone chirps, lighting up on your desk. Glancing over, you see it’s Rose. You don’t need to read it to know it’s just her announcing her arrival, but you pick it up anyway, settling down on your bed and slipping on your shoes as you open the message.

Rose Tico

here!!! right in front lol

Me

One moment!

You lace up your boots quickly, practically sprinting out of your room and down the stairs, snatching up your long coat on the way. 

“I’m headed out, I won’t be back until you guys are already in bed. So, goodnight.”

You call out to the living room as you pull on the coat, your parents turning from their seats on the couch, eyeing you with interest.

“And where are you going this late, young lady?” Your father questions sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

“Out with friends,” you rush, already halfway out the door, spotting Rose in her car and giving a small wave. “Love you, bye!”

Half-jogging down the steps, you cross quickly but cautiously through the snow-laden yard, careful not to slip. As you close the gate behind you, Rose is already opening the passenger door from the inside, beckoning you in.

“Get inside, it’s freezing!”

You allow yourself a small laugh and slide into the seat next to her. Pulling the door closed, you look around, taking in the space of the car, as she starts it back up and pulls away from the curb. 

Like most things in The Base, it’s worn and old, peeling and chafed, likely held together with duct tape and love. But despite all of its imperfections, it’s not only comfortable, it’s cozy. It’s warm and personal, every dent containing a story, every mile meaningful. 

You can’t help but think back to the chill rigid efficiency of your TIE. Sure, it gets the job done, and is mighty stylish while it does so, but you’ve never felt like it was yours. Never felt anything but cool indifference for its sleek lines and dark exterior. 

“So, you’re looking snazzy tonight.” Rose pulls you out of your thoughts with her cheery tone. 

You look down at your outfit, once again tugging at its hems. 

“Am I? I was actually trying to dress down.”

She laughs at that. “You think that’s dressing down? No way, this is dressing down.” She takes one hand off the wheel, gesturing at her own attire: A brown button-up with a sewn name tag and a pair of dark cargo pants. Likely the uniform she wore to work today. Her cool attitude and smooth voice put you at ease, and you can feel your guard begin to lower. 

“I like this on you,” you quietly praise. You pick at your nails, continuing, “Don’t take this the wrong way, please, but… I admire that you can wear clothes like that and feel comfortable. I feel like I have to dress up all the time, no matter what. I don’t know… I- Nevermind.”

You look up at Rose and she pulls her eyes away from the road for a moment to give you a meaningful look. She nods sympathetically, her previous lightness replaced by understanding. She realizes the weight of this seemingly minor admission.

“I get it, I do.” She gives you a soothing smile. “I just hope you can feel comfortable here… with us. We like having you back, even if just for a moment.”

Still smiling, she turns back to the wheel with a light shrug. “Plus, this isn’t Canto Bight. You’ll look great no matter what.”

You groan, half sardonic, half-serious. “Oh, please don’t remind me. You know, I thought I was a vulture, but those people,” you give an audible shiver. “They’re something else.”

Rose laughs melodically. “Oh, do tell.”

______________

 The ride to the bar is short, the car only really needed for warmth, but the company is appreciated. Rose laughs along to your story of once attempting to cover for Kylo’s drunken rage in front of investors, and while it was a very unamusing situation at the time, you find yourself chuckling with her. 

“Well, that’s why we don’t let him have Bespin Fizzes anymore.”

Rose giggles at that, before piping up in her seat a little. “There it is!”

The bar comes into view just ahead, a familiar neon sign reading Kanata’s hanging overhead a small brick building. The parking lot is compact, but practically full, reminding you just how small the town is, as Kanata’s is the only real bar in the whole Base, and as such, is the town’s favorite happy hour hangout. 

She leans up the dashboard, pointing to an old, grey, junky Corellian that’s as familiar to the town as the bar. 

“There’s the Falcon,” she points out with a smile, though you don’t need her to tell which car it is. “They’re here.”

You nod, smiling at the old hunk of junk fondly, before suddenly realizing what the Falcon’s presence implies. She pulls up to the spot next to it as you turn to her.

“Wait, we’re getting drinks with Han? ” You try not to sound upset, only curious, but Rose reads your panic easily. 

“No, silly,” she giggles, and seems to dodge the question, stepping out of the car. You quickly follow behind, stepping out into the chill night air. Closing the doors, Rose rounds the car and you trail next to her, past the Falcon and towards the bar's entrance. She continues her explanation without you having to ask. 

“About five years ago, Han gave the Falcon away.”

“He gave it away? Why would he do that? To who?” 

She pushes open the door, leading you into the dimly lit bar, which you only now realize with its unfamiliar interior, that you never stuck around to be old enough to actually enter it. The lights are low, yellow and red, but not unwelcoming, in fact creating a warm atmosphere. It’s brightest around the bar itself, with neon and string lights, as patrons sit on the stools, chatting over the low playing jukebox on the far side of the room. Near it are a couple of pool tables, busy with players in the middle of games. A few locals drink in booths against the walls, however Rose leads you towards the high tables and stools in the middle of the room. You’re scanning the bar for anyone you recognize when you finally see where she’s leading you– to the only couple occupying the tables, and your heart drops into your stomach as your fight or flight instinct kicks in. 

“To them!” Rose points but once again you don’t need her helpful hand to see what you need to.

At the table is a girl you don’t recognize with a sweet face and dark hair, but it’s the familiar face next to her that makes you want to run.

Finn, your old classmate, but more importantly your old employee, sits smiling and laughing, casual as anything. You knew Finn left First Order – on very bad terms, one would be remiss to forget – after a fateful trip home for somewhere less cutthroat and competitive, but you thought that meant somewhere like Alderaan. You didn’t think he’d come back, and you certainly didn’t think you’d actually see him here.  

Rose doesn’t notice your hesitation, continuing to pull you forward and calling out to her friends. She catches their attention, waving, and you brace for the moment of impact. 

Finn is going to be mad that you’re here. He’s going to be furious. He’s going to stand up and yell at Rose about how awful of a person you are and make sure nobody in this town will even so much as smile at you ever again. He’s going to laugh in your face and tell you to go back to Coruscant and you’ll do it because you’re so deeply embarrassed.

The girl turns first, smiling and waving back at Rose. She grins brightly at you as well, obviously unfamiliar but still friendly. Finn turns second with an easy expression, glancing at you briefly before doing a double-take. His face falls, but not into anger like you expect. It drops to confusion, like he’s making sure it’s you, which then turns into half-smug disbelief, a bewildered smile taking over his features. 

Finn speaks first. “No-freaking-way.”

Tension still wracks your body as he steps off the stool, meeting you and Rose in front of the table. Rose looks between the two of you before dropping your hand and covering her eyes.

“Oh my God, I totally forgot about the whole…” She looks to you apologetically, not towards Finn, which confuses you. “I’m so sorry I forgot to say.”

“No, I- it’s okay. I just hope I’m not intruding.” It seems that this town just loves to leave you at a loss for words.

Finn laughs, seemingly completely at ease. “Not unless you’re here to talk about work. Or to try to win me back.”

“God, no. Not that we wouldn’t love to have you back but,” you glance quickly at the friendly girl still sitting at the table, obviously confused. “I understand that you’re much happier here.”

“That I am.”

“Then that’s all I care about.”

Rose absolutely buzzes with energy at the exchange. “Yay! So we’re all still friends and everything?” Her hands are clasped and her hopeful eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you. 

You turn your gaze back to Finn, hoping that you look as genuine as he does. “I hope so.”

“I don’t see any reason why not,” He smiles warmly at you, offering his hand. “Besides, you weren’t exactly the one that left me with a bad taste in my mouth.”

You take his hand easily, and just barely manage to quell your surprise when he uses it to tug you into a warm hug. The recent bombardment of hugs you’ve received in the past few days is the only thing that gets your arms moving properly, wrapping loosely around Finn for a moment before you part. 

As you pull back, an awkwardness comes to hang in the air as a silence settles between the four of you. You suddenly remember the girl at the table seemingly the same moment that Finn does. He pipes up, turning towards her and half leading you to the table where they were sitting. 

“Right, uh, Rey, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine.” 

You extend a hand and introduce yourself to the woman, Rey, and she lets out an awkward laugh as she takes it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was a bit, erm, hesitant to intrude on the moment. Seems like there’s a lot of history going on here.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Finn laughs before his nose scrunches up in thought. “Actually, you might have some idea. You know the place I used to work before we met?”

Rey’s face twists in disgust. “You mean that awful tech company? God, you couldn’t stop talking about how awful it was for almost a year. Must’ve been terrible. Did you work there too?” 

She looks to you as your cheeks heat up and you can't help the grimace that creeps into your expression. “I actually still do.” 

Finn opens his mouth but Rey beats him to it. “Oh no, that must be awful. What do you do? Get yelled at all day by some tall blonde woman like Finn did?” She chuckles at her own joke, but she’s the only one. Finn and Rose look like they’d rather be anywhere else. Probably at the bar. With strong drinks. Yet, you feel a chill indifference wash over you. The one you feel whenever you walk through the doors of the First Order offices and meetings. 

“Actually I’m the COO.”

Rey’s jaw slackens with the shock, mouth starting and stopping any words she attempts to get out. “I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” Finn has his head fully in his hands and Rose looks like she might die. But you smile softly.

“It’s okay. I’ve heard far worse before. From people whose opinions were far more important.”

The urge to storm out tugs at your gut but your feet stay planted. It’s strange. You’re not quite sure what emotion it is that you’re feeling exactly. There’s anger, but it’s the blow to your pride that fuels it. There’s certainly embarrassment. Mostly, you realize it’s guilt. Guilt that the company you worked so hard to build has hurt people - people that you care about. You knew it happened, probably every day, probably right at this moment, but being faced with the conversations that people must be having behind your back… It hurts. It hurts in many directions. 

“Drinks!” Rose chirps loudly, desperate to break the tension. “I’ll go get us some drinks!”

She spins on a dime and immediately heads towards the bar. Looking between you and Rey, Finn gulps. “She’ll probably need some… help with those…” He’s immediately out of his chair and trailing behind Rose. 

Rey sits quietly, a thoughtful look on her face as you finally take a seat on the stool across from her. The silence hangs for a moment as the jukebox croons quietly in the background. 

“I really didn’t mean it that way,” Rey starts quietly. “It’s just…” She leans towards you, elbows resting in front of her on the table. Her eyes are earnest, kindness pouring forth. “Finn was miserable when we met in Jakku. Work was stressing him out to no end, but mostly… he felt like he was hurting people. He had a stable and successful job but… what did it cost him? All he ever wanted to do was help people.” She sighs, and a small smile tugs at her lips. “I like to think I helped him, but really, he knew all along what he had to do. I’m so grateful that we’re both here now, working with the kids, helping people where it feels like it really matters. I can’t speak for you, but it sounds like you’re proud of your company, and I’m glad but… It just wasn’t right for Finn. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

You’re momentarily stunned by her small speech. Not just the words but her honesty. You can tell from the tone of her voice just how much she cares for Finn and how much she believes in their cause. You find a small stain on the table, gazing at it intensely in thought. You’ve just wanted to help people too, all your life, but making something of yourself always came first it seemed. You told yourself you were helping people, creating new things that made so many people’s lives easier, donating intensely to charities, but how many people were you hurting on the way? How many times can you tell yourself that some eggs must be cracked to make an omelette? How many people have you screwed over, blackmailed, and outright stolen from? How many shady people have you bought from or sold to? How many things have you ignored or swept under the carpet just to keep business running as usual?

“If it helps… Finn always spoke highly of you.” 

You look up as Rey draws you out of your thoughts, something she obviously picks up on going by her smile. 

“Well… He’s a good man. A good friend before he was an employee… I didn’t mean what I said either - about your opinion not mattering. That’s not true, I just…” You trail off, but look up to find comfort and forgiveness in her warm expression. You give her a small genuine smile of your own. “Maybe we should just start over.”

You extend a hand, introducing yourself and she does the same, laughing lightly as she does so. At that moment, Rose and Finn come shuffling over, each balancing a tray with a few colorful drinks and rounds of shots. Placing the trays on the table, Finn eyes your smiles and parting hands. 

“Are you guys… Is everything good now?”

You nod, laughing. “Yes, I think we just got off on the wrong foot.”

“And we’re just here to have a good time and hang out - no work talk.” Rey winks at Finn. He lets out a hearty laugh, clapping you two on the back. 

“Oh, you two are good.”

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” Rose cuts in. She looks absolutely tickled pink, poorly suppressing her roguish grin. Finn and Rey raise an eyebrow in unison, seemingly used to this behavior. 

Rose giggles, “I invited Poe!” 

You instantly feel your heart rate pick up and a gentle heat rise in your cheeks, but it seems your the only one excited about this development. Rey only sighs with an unamused laugh. Rolling his eyes, Finn shakes his head, “That’s not exactly a surprise.” He turns to you. “She invites him out every time. And every time he says no. ‘Too busy.’”

“He never just relaxes,” Rey chimes in. “We’re constantly inviting him out, even inviting ourselves into the shop occasionally, but he’s just so dedicated to his work. It’d be admirable if it wasn’t so annoying.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Rose waves her hands around, as if attempting to dispel the negative comments in the air before they reach you. “BUT… I told him a certain special someone was gonna be here!” 

Finn and Rey both turn to you, Rey holding an expression of curiosity and Finn looking at you with new eyes, the gears turning almost visibly in his head. Did she mean you? Everyone seems to be looking at you expectantly so… she must be. Sure, Poe seems to like you well enough but… This is behavior that seems to have been going on for years. How could your presence possibly change that?

“Wh- Me?” You ask, turning to Rose at a sudden loss for words. “Why- What makes me special?”

Rose rolls her eyes so hard her head can’t help but follow. “You are so oblivious. And so special.”

Finn nods, with a grin you can only describe as ‘shit-eating.’ 

“Of course.” He bites his lip deviously. “This is gonna be so fun.”

“Really wha-”

You’re cut off by the sound of the blowing snow and wind as the door creaks open behind you. As if on cue, each of your heads swivel to the entrance to see the door swinging shut behind Poe shaking the snowflakes out of his hair, cheeks ruddy from the outside cold. He looks up from tugging his gloves off to see the four of you gawking at him. If he can tell he just walked in on a discussion of himself, he doesn’t show it. He practically beams at the four of you, but lets his eyes settle on yours.

“Hey guys.”

“This is gonna be so fun,” You hear Finn whisper behind you. 

You fail miserably at trying to hide your smile, but you know it’s for the best. 

______________

 “God, I know it’s embarrassing but... that’s so funny.” Rey chuckles with red cheeks, thoroughly amused.

“But it’s so embarrassing,” You exclaim, a little louder than you’re usually comfortable with but the drinks you’ve been slowly consuming for the past two hours have loosened your tongue just a bit. 

Finn continues to shake his head in laughter. “I do love your mom, though. I wanna thank her for that one. A proper Base welcome.”

“C’mon, it really wasn’t so bad,” Poe laughs. 

Once he’d arrived, everyone made quick work of getting him a drink and dragging over a stool, planting him firmly and snuggly between you and Rose. Small pleasantries and catching up eventually turned into you and Poe recounting the previous night's dinner and conversation at the strong behest of the rest of the group. It mostly consisted of you complaining and apologizing to Poe and him simply laughing it off, attempting to placate your worries. Finn, Rey, and Rose simply watched in entertainment, soaking up every juicy detail. 

“Really, you have to stop beating yourself up about it. You’ll drive yourself insane.” Poe places a hand on your shoulder, sending a little shiver of electricity through your body that you desperately try to curb. You look down at his hand on your shoulder and are struck with the desire to see it as often as possible. Meeting his eyes, they are warm and kind and cause you to immediately lose whatever it was you were going to just say. You are now very aware of just how buzzed you are. 

“I’ll… I’ll try.” You give him a small smile and he accepts it readily, his own smile growing. Over your shoulder, Finn must catch his eye because he swiftly turns his head back to his drink on the table and clears his throat. His hand gives you a small pat and quickly retreats back to his lap. His hand makes a loose fist and you miss its warmth. 

“Well,” Rose starts. “It’s getting late and I am so beat. I should get going.” 

Rose gives a meaningful glance at Finn and Rey, “Isn’t it a school night? You guys should get going too. Don’t want to have to show a video tomorrow.”

Finn’s eyes widen a bit and Rey nods fervently. 

“Yes, absolutely. You’re so right, Rose.” Finn begins standing up from his stool. “C’mon, Rey, we should be off.”

Those fucking conspirators. You know you should be grateful - they’re trying very hard to set you up with your high school crush - but all you can feel is panic. You’re an expert at talking to people, from brokering deals to conducting yourself in interviews and even giving presentations, you’ve trained and practiced in the art of discussion. But for some reason, just being in the same room as Poe makes your brain short circuit. Your mind constantly pulls back and forth whether to close off and shut him out or loosen up and actually let him in. It’s barely been three days but it feels like so much longer. And that’s terrifying.

“Uh-Wh- Are you guys okay to drive?” You sputter.

Finn sends you a reassuring smile as he grabs Rey by the shoulders, “Rey might not be in any state to drive, but I’m totally fine. I’ve had maybe two drinks in the past couple hours. Don’t worry.” 

Rose is off her stool too, gathering her coat. “Could you maybe drop me off too? I’d just walk but it’s so damn cold.”

“No problem, Rose.”

“What about me? I’m supposed to walk then?” You interject, flustered. “Rose, you drove me here.”

Rose gives an exaggerated look of cluelessness, giving you a shrug before looking over at Poe.

Breaking his momentary silence, Poe gives you a nod. “Yeah, I can give you a ride if you want.” 

You can only nod along. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you.”

Rose lets out a little squeal, scrambling over to give you a kiss on the cheek and skip out the door, calling out goodbyes over her shoulder. You can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh along with Finn and Rey, both of them giving you and Poe sidehugs before taking their exit as well. 

As the doors swing shut and the silence between you settles, you glance around at the bar. There are about half as many people as there were a few hours ago but the place doesn’t feel empty by any means. The few patrons still mill about, some playing pool, some chatting at the bar. You sigh contently at the sight, something Poe catches as he watches you.

“Good to be home?”

You look over, momentarily studying his handsome features in the warm lights as you try to figure out how to answer his question. 

“I don’t know. Like I said before, it’s not really home. And yet it is.”

He nods, thinking for a second. “But are you happy to be here?”

You eye him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m starting to be.”

“Well, I’ll drink to that.” He grins, holding up his bottle. You meet his with your own, both taking a swig with a smile.

As you settle your drinks back on the table, Poe leans over with a lowered voice. Your pulse thrums in your veins. “You know, I actually had a great time last night, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You sigh with chagrin, momentarily closing your eyes to rub at the spot between your brows. 

“Well, I’m glad you had so much fun at my expense.” 

Poe leans away, shutting his eyes in his own embarrassment. 

“That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry.”

You chuckle lightly, a sound that gets Poe to open one eye before breaking into a smile, laughing with you. He leans in again, still smiling but a serious tone overtakes him.

“I really understand if you don’t want to talk about it but… What was your mother talking about… with Ben?”

You feel like a bucket of water has been dumped on you, ruining the easy-going mood you’d let slowly wash over you for the past few hours, but when you look at him, you can’t help but want to tell him everything.

“I just… I’ve only heard bits and pieces about what happened after you graduated. You really… disappeared.”

“Not disappeared,” you say quietly, with grit in your voice. “They just started paying attention to me somewhere else.”

“I paid attention to you,” Poe murmurs. When you catch his eye, he corrects himself. “I mean, we all did.”

You smile sadly, “Yeah, this is different.”

Poe gently knocks your shoulder with his, making you let out a snicker. Glancing over, Poe levels you with a genuine look, with soft eyes and a smile. “I get the feeling you don’t talk about your life often. So, tell me about it.”

He’s right. You never talk about your life, you certainly never regale your story to whoever asks. Doing that requires you to be vulnerable, it requires self-reflection and introspection. It requires you to think about things that you’ve long locked away inside. But… 

“Well, I’m not sure how well you remember, or if you ever noticed but… no one ever really talked to me. Then one day, Ben did. No one ever really talked to him either, so we made a fast pair. He was odd... but he was a real friend to me. I wouldn’t have traded that for anything.”

Poe nods understandably, encouraging you to keep going. 

“We decided to stick together. We got into Imperial University together and got out as quickly as we could. Neither of us… We couldn’t stay here, not with what we planned on doing with our lives. This town… it just wasn’t for us.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot. I get that, too.” Poe takes a drink.

“You do?”

He laughs softly. “Yeah, but that’s a story for another time. Keep going.”

“We learned at school that we worked really well together. Our mentor Snoke realized that, too. He led us, taught us, molded us. He helped us build our company, First Order Tech. He was our first investor, he still sits on the board of directors. Kylo… Ben may be the CEO, but Snoke is still in charge of both of us to this day. It’s our company, we created it from the ground up but… We still bow to him.”

You shake your head. Time for the hard part. Might as well get it out quick and easy.

“Somewhere along the way… I don’t know if it was love. It wasn’t love how it should be - I can tell you that. But, Ben and I… were together. And then he proposed. I don’t think it was because he wanted to. I think he just thought… he was supposed to. Just the natural progression of our lives, I guess.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until the teardrops reach your chin, where they hang heavily before dropping onto your lap. You quickly wipe them away, as Poe once again places a hand on your back, but this time it stays there, his thumb rubbing comfortably back and forth.

“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

“I just,” You sniffle, wiping your nose. Way to break down just as he was warming up to you, kiddo. “I’ve never talked about this before, not really. I don’t even think I’ve ever cried over this before.”

“Anyway, I somehow became lucid enough to call it off a few months before the wedding.” 

You sniff wetly and press the backs of your hands to your eyes, your makeup no doubt ruined by now. Poe’s thumb keeps its motion.

“I just wanted it so bad,” Your voice cracks. The lump that had been caught in your throat breaks free in the form of a sob. “I let myself be blind because I…”

Your hands are shaking and tears run freely down your face.

“I wanted to be loved. And I thought that’s how I would get it. But I woke up.” 

You drop your hands onto the table, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You clench your fists and your voice no longer trembles.

“And I’m glad I did. We’re both better people for it.”

Only now do you chance a look at Poe. You had kept your gaze down, too scared to find what his expression might be, too scared to read his thoughts on his face. But his hand had stayed planted, comforting you. That had to mean something, right?

Looking up, you see only his warm gaze that had assured you deeply enough to get you talking in the first place. It carries a sadness, a kind of worry in the crease between his slightly upturned brows. But you find no disgust. No pity. 

“I wish I knew what to say.”

You chuckle wetly, “You don’t have to say anything. I understand that it’s a lot.”

His hand makes a broad stroke across your back as he leans in once again. 

“There’s actually a lot of things I want to say, but I’m sure you’d hate all of them considering they all sound like condescending things your mom has probably said to you over the years.”

A genuine laugh bubbles out of you at this, a bright smile pulling up your wet mascara stained cheeks. Seeing this, Poe can’t help a smile of his own.

“Things like ‘you’re so brave’ and ‘you poor thing’?” You giggle.

He chuckles, “Yeah something like that, the usuals.”

“Well thank you for sparing me.”

“No problem.” He pauses for a moment. “But really, thank you for telling me.”

He sounds like he means it.

“Thank you for listening, Poe.”

And so do you.

You sit like that just for a moment, gazing at each other. You take in the small details, admiring the creases around his eyes, the shape of his jaw, the curls in his hair. He seems to be taking you in as well, his eyes flickering across your features. You see them linger on the stains of your cheeks, turning your head away subconsciously. 

“Ready to go?” He asks softly. 

You smile and nod, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

You wobble just a bit as you get up from your seat, but Poe’s hand is still there to steady you. It stays there as you walk to the door. Stepping out into the cold, you instinctively huddle against him, a move he readily accepts as you walk.

“I’m not always a sad drunk, I promise.”

You feel the rumble of his chest as he laughs gently at your small joke.

“Don’t worry. I believe you.”

The ride is comfortably silent, except for the low hum of the radio as you drive. Pulling up to your house, you want to say something, do something, to thank him for what he did tonight. For driving you home, for listening to you and comforting you as you practically sobbed in his arms, for coming to the bar at all, supposedly just because you were there. 

But you don’t do anything.

“I’ll see you around,” is all you say. 

You hear him swallow as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll see you.”

When you finally slink upstairs and collapse in your bed, you still feel the phantom touch of Poe’s hand across your back. 

-

notes: Whew! Thank you SO much for reading and thanks to all the people who stuck around! It’s been such a long and hard year and I hope everyone is doing okay. I’m determined to make this year great and I hope you all will join me!

I understand it’s been forever so if you’re on the taglist and would like to taken off it, hit me up and I’ll totally understand - and if you’re not on the taglist and would like to be leave a reply or send me a message! love you all <3

taglist: @ikbenplant @jamesdeerest​​ @fortheloveoflamp @operation-spot @asianravenpuff @whovianayesha @ultrunning @nowheredreamer @honestlyjustwow​ @badwolf-212 (for some reason i can never tag you properly :( ) 

[youraveragenicaddict]

Unlikely Friends.

SUMMARY - At the start, Sherlock was always cold to you, just like everyone else, but you somehow managed to find your way into his heart.

WARNING - Mention of blood, shooting, injuries, slight drinking.

GENRE - Angst with fluff?

A/N - This was requested by @shadowalley. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were hoping for, the intended storyline got changed in the middle of the one-shot. Sorry if I used police codes wrongly, don’t be shy if you notice any mistakes, please notify me, so I can correct them :)

Y/N - your name

F/N - friend’s name

DI - detective inspector

You arrived in London on a cold Monday morning. At the start, you were very resistant to hop on the plane and fly here, but F/N had managed to persuade you into going.

One of your higher standing employers had offered you a better paying position at the police station in London, which you hesitantly had accepted. You were on your way to your new apartment, which was apparently on Baker St., close to the famous residence of Det. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson.

You weren't one of those girls, who would run as fast as they could to Baker St. just to meet Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

On the contrary, you were obliged to go there, because it was also your older brothers home. Yes, you are the younger sister of John Watson, making you DI Y/N Watson. But the problem is, you haven't seen John in 5 years. You haven't called, texted, even sent an email, claiming that you have too much work to do.

You made your way across the stone street to John Watson's apartment to finally see him again and meet his best friend. You firmly knocked on the door and waited for the worst.

To your surprise, the door was opened by a small, middle-aged woman who kindly asked you:'' Are you here to see Sherlock, dear? He is out for a couple of minutes, but if you're willing to wait, I'll make you a cup of tea.'' ''That would be lovely, thank you, Mrs. ...'' You responded in the end, you were left, wondering who she was.

''Oh, I'm Mrs. Hudson, I'm his landlady, but he thinks I'm his maid.'' She stated fiercely. ''Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hudson, I'm Y/N Watson, and I'm here to see my brother John, not Sherlock.'' You introduced yourself. Mrs. Hudson seemed to realize something, and she quickly affirmed:'' That's why you look so familiar!''

After your brief exchange of words, she showed you up the narrow wooden stairs to the second floor. Mrs. Hudson put in the extra key to their flat and let you in the small, cozy apartment.

You walked around the living room, noticing a few minor details, like a yellow circle painted on the wall above a couch, which seemed to be perforated by bullets. A chair in the middle of the room, two single-seater sofas, two large windows, and other furniture items.

You made your way to the kitchen when you heard a sharp scream from there. It was Mrs. Hudson who had dropped a teapot next to the refrigerator. ''Are you alright?'' : You questioned. ''Just fine, Sherlock stored some human parts in the cooler again, that's all.'': She declared.

You, being the curious and nosy person you were, opened the freezer to confirm Mrs. Hudson's statement. You jumped back when you noticed that there were stored fingers, eyeballs, and other human parts, that were supposed to be at the morgue. In your time as a DI, you had seen worse, so it didn't affect you too much.

You didn't even notice the front door open, and two loud males enter the flat while you were admiring the wide variety of different chemicals casually stored on the kitchen table.

''John, I'm telling you the butler is guilty!'' yelled the deeper voice. ''No, Sherlock, that is not what's happening there. Didn't you even notice the stains on the maid's apron?'' : argued back another voice, which you recognized as your brother's.

They both froze when they noticed you and Mrs. Hudson standing next to a broken teapot and open cooler. Quickly, you shut the fridge closed and quietly waved at them. The first one to react was John, who broke into a huge grin and submerged you into a hug while Sherlock openly glared at you.

''Sherlock, this is my little sister Y/N. The one who's going to work with Lestrade and the others!'' John gleefully announced to his curly-haired friend. Sherlock looked you up and down and then bitterly remarked: "She looks ordinary.''

You were offended by that statement, but you were here to befriend him, not make an enemy out of him. ''You must be Sherlock, I must say your reputation surpasses you.'': you said. He only responded with a ''Hmmmm'' which angered you even more.

''Well, I have to get up early tomorrow. New workplace. So I have to go. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock.'' You said while briskly walking out the door and down the stairs. You made sure to close the front door softly, so no one would detect that you were hurt by his words.

----------------Time Skip To Next Morning--------------

You were warmly welcomed to the new station, where you were led to your desk, with a case file already sitting on it. You opened the yellow folder and started working. You followed clues, questioned suspects, and even chased a few the whole day until you got a call from a woman who had heard gunshots from across the street where she lived.

You promptly took your gun, police badge, and attempted to put on a bulletproof vest, just in case. Then you made your way to the mentioned street to check it out. You had your gun steadied and loaded when you walked into a state-of-the-art building.

The halls seemed calm, which you found quite eerie because there was supposed to be a party. At the end of the large corridor, you heard a few voices arguing softly. You identified them as four men and a woman who seemed to be crying.

You peeked around the corner and almost froze from shock. There, in the middle of a large ballroom, stood your brother and Sherlock with a blonde woman by their side. Their hands were raised in surrender while the woman had sunk to the ground. She appeared to be in her early twenties.

You also noticed around seven men with shotguns, while the one Sherlock was talking to had a knife in his hand. You decided to try and sort this out by yourself, till you heard multiple gunshots.

''I got a 10-71 (shooting) at Montague St. 15, need 10-75 (backup), ASAP!'' : You yelled into the police radio. You started at the criminals while John and Sherlock started attacking the men who had guns.

You rolled your eyes but came out of your cover and shot three of them, making them drop their shotguns and cry out in pain. Your brother and his friend managed to disarm the other four, but one of them managed to injure the woman. The man with the knife noticed his defeat and began to escape. John reacted faster than you and ran after the fellow.

Sherlock examined the blonde lady, while you notified the station: '' There's a 20001(Hit and run - injury or death), anyone State 6( At Scene )?'' You were talking to the other officers when you noticed an 8th man with a small gun, who must have hidden in the closet against the wall.

He readied his gun and aimed at Sherlock, who was standing next to the blonde girl. In the heat of the moment, you jumped in front of him and briefly blacked out when the bullet hit you in the chest.

Sherlock swiftly took your gun and shot the guy in the stomach, enough to make him faint. He kneeled next to you and started to check you for the wound, but when he opened your jacket, he noticed you were wearing a bulletproof vest and sighed, relieved.

You got up and asked him to help you carry out the blonde woman, who had fallen into unconsciousness. You heard the police and ambulance sirens and ran to inform the head of the station about the situation.

After all of the officers and medics left you were left standing in front of the house, with Sherlock by your side. You cracked a grin and said: "I saved your life, you owe me a drink at least.'' He chuckled and responded: ''Yes, I suppose so.''

After a comfortable silence, Sherlock softly spoke: ''Look, I'm sorry I acted so coldly yesterday, you aren't as ordinary as I thought.'' You were taken by surprise who knew he could be genuinely nice when he wanted to. ''Thank you, I'd be more surprised if you wouldn't have apologized after I took a bullet for you!'': You revealed.

Sherlock opened his mouth, ready to say something to you, but was cut off, by your phone ringing. You picked it up and lightly laughed at something the individual you were talking to had said.

After a short conversation, you turned to Sherlock and told him: ''That was John, he had chased the suspect for blocks and had decided that he was too tired to go back and took a taxi back to Baker St.'' ''Yeah, that does sound like John, when he's had a few to drink.'' Sherlock informed. Worries aside, you chose to cut right to the chase.

''Friends?'': you asked Sherlock while raising your right pinkie. He responded with a nod of his head and a grin but looked at your raised pinkie and inquired: ''Why have you raised your pinkie?'' ''Come on, I'll tell you on the way back to Baker St.'': you replied, noticing the black taxi waiting for both of you.

[snarkwrites]

01 & 02 | home; juice ortiz.

Notes:

.... and apparently, my brain yearned to write angsty and kind of tragic things. I really haven’t written much for sons of anarchy beyond a few little short things here and there so.. be warned. I’m gonna loosely follow some of the things that happen on the show timeline, but.. this one might take longer to write / post / update because I’m going to try to watch SOA again as I do this. Try being the operative.

So uh.. buckle up?

Also.. I haven’t made a cover for this yet. or a soundtrack. And this is c

Pairing:

Teller Morrow OFC x Juice Ortiz.

Summary:

“Home is where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends.” “A house is made of bricks and beams. A home is made of hopes and dreams.” “Home is not a place…it's a feeling.” 

“Home is wherever I’m with you.” 

Years ago, Hazelynn Teller (Morrow) left Charming behind. She turned her back on everything in search of something.. anything that felt like it fit. But nothing ever did. After a series of events cause her to re-evaluate and she finds herself returning to Charming, can she fix everything she broke when she left?

And again I ask.. why must my summaries suck? I swear this might possibly be better than the summary.

Warnings:

Injury / accident tw - for this chapter only. Mentions of a genetic heart defect / a newborn in NICU. fighting / violence tw - duh, this show was pretty damn violent and there’s no way I can escape having at least some of the major stuff that happened present. slow burn and angst. because people don’t just fall back together and feelings aren’t magically healed. eventual filth. any other triggering  things that arise I’ll warn in those chapters. These are just the ones I can think of, immediately, right now.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ] 

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting 

@sassymox

@twistnet

                                      ONE.

The phone ringing had Jax Teller sitting up in bed. He grimaced at the pounding hangover and he reached for his cellphone, answering.

“Are you family of Hazelynn Teller Morrow?”

“She’s my baby sister, why?” Jax wasn’t getting a good feeling at all. The woman on the other end of the line sounded so formal and her tone was so clipped. Unconcerned. It was his own personal experience that usually, when you got a call like this in the middle of the night, nothing good ever came of it.

What the nurse told him next left him reeling.

“There’s been an accident. She’s been admitted to Santa Monica General. Her daughter is in the NICU.”

“You said Santa Monica General, right?” Jax was sitting up in bed now, trying to get his heart down out of his throat. He was slipping out of bed, grabbing for his jeans on the floor. “Are you sure there isn’t some mistake? My sister, she… She doesn’t have a kid. Not that I’m aware of..” He was hoping against hope that there was a mistake somewhere, but the nurse spoke again.

“Your sister was in labor and on her way here to give birth when the accident occurred. We had to induce labor. Given the state your sister is in, we’re calling the family since we have no way to know who the baby’s father is… Just to err on the side of caution.”

Jax’s stomach rolled. Tara hugged against him from behind. “What’s going on, Jax?”

Jax shushed her, listening to the nurse detail his sister’s injuries and the fact that while they were trying to save his niece she slipped into a coma and had yet to wake up. When he hung up the phone, he swung at a wall.

“Jax?”

“I have to go pick up my mom.” Jax grabbed the keys to his bike and rushed out of the house, firing it up.

The entire drive across town to his mother’s house passed by in a daze. He didn’t even remember what color the stoplight had been when he went through it, only that he was sitting in his mother’s driveway only three and a half minutes later. Rushing to his mom’s front door. Pounding on it to wake her up.

Gemma threw the door open, a brow raised at Jax when she saw him standing on the other side. “Jax?”

“Mom, it’s Hazelynn… The hospital in Santa Monica called me.”

Gemma’s mouth opened only to close again. It was probably one of very few times over the course of his life that Jax Teller had actually seen his mother speechless. Or about to cry.

“What happened? Jax, talk to me. Talk to me now.” Gemma demanded, her voice shaky. Jax took a few deep breaths and put his arms around his mother, explaining what the nurse told him when she’d called. Gemma’s tears started to fall and she bolted back into the house, shaking Clay awake.

Clay grumbled at the early hour but sat up.

Looking as if he’d vomit as Jax repeated everything the nurse told him for a second time that night.

“I’ll drive. Neither of you are in the shape.” Clay was up and getting dressed on auto pilot, stopping at one point to question, “They say whether she had anybody there with her?”

“The whole reason the nurse is calling family is because she was coming to the hospital alone because she’d gone into labor. They can’t track down a father.”

“Oh, I’ll find the bastard.”

“Clay…”

“I’m not kidding Gemma.” Clay’s fists clenched and he took a few deep breaths.

“We’ll just get there and assess the situation. Go from there. She needs us.” Gemma gave Clay a firm look of warning and it seemed to get him reasonably calm.

The next few hours were sitting in silence in a waiting room. Endless pots of shitty break room coffee. Gemma jumping every time someone coded.

And finally, around 9 am, a doctor got around to them.

Hazelynn was awake. And her vitals seemed steady. 

“Can we go back to see her?”

“In an hour. We  want to make sure she’s up to it.”

“What about my niece?”

“One at a time. I’ll send a nurse over to get you prepped to go down to NICU.” The doctor promised, setting off to go and track down a nurse.

The nurse showed up a few minutes later and Gemma stood, the shock starting to subside but only slightly. As they walked back to the NICU nursery, the nurse told Gemma that they’d detected a heart defect and Gemma explained that both herself and her granddaughter’s uncle suffered from similar. 

“We’re not supposed to let anyone back here that isn’t a parent until 8 pm.. But given the circumstance…” 

Gemma thanked her and stepped into the room, taking a seat in the chair in the corner. The nurse brought over her granddaughter and Gemma took her in her arms.

“Oh sweetie. Everything is going to be okay.”

But Gemma was afraid. So very afraid.

XXX

“ You don’t have to leave town, Haze.”

It was the last thing my brother said to me. He’d hugged me. Then my mom hugged me and wiped at her eyes. Made me promise a thousand times to call and come back to visit. I promised her I would, even though I knew deep down I’d be limiting myself to calls only.

If I went home to visit, I might not ever leave again.

And I didn’t want to be like all the other girls I went to school with, settling down and settling for whatever came their way.

I left town with all these big ambitions and plans. And one by one, life knocked them right out from beneath me. Life tried again and again to break me but I was too stubborn to be broken. 

But this last blow.. This last blow was too much.

The nurse came in to check on me and the first thing I demanded was to know if my daughter was alright. The second and a half it took the nurse to tell me that my daughter was alive and currently down in NICU was the longest second and a half of my entire life and the second I heard the nurse tell me that my daughter was alive and I hadn’t lost her, I broke.

Sobbing. Grateful.

If I’d lost her… I shoved the thought out because I just couldn’t.

“Wait.. NICU… What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my baby?”

“The doctors detected a heart defect.”

I took a shaky breath. I’d been warned by my mom that there was a possibility that any children I had could end up with the heart defect, even though it managed to skip over me. At my last checkup, my doctor had been concerned about the genetic heart defect present in my brother and my mother. Nothing had shown up in any of the tests they’d been able to do at that point, so I’d been hopeful.

I nodded. Taking a few deep breaths. Moving to sit but wincing when a wave of pain washed over me.

The door to my private room opened and my brother stepped in. My birth father Clay standing behind him.

Jax rushed over to the bed, putting my legs back into it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going to see my daughter. I.. She needs me, Jax.”

“She needs you healthy, darlin.” Clay spoke up quietly.

Awkwardly, I let him hug me. Things had always been tense between us. More so when the truth came out that he was my actual father. It had thrown my entire life in a tailspin back then and while I’m not proud to admit it at all, I’d went full on rebellious. Refusing to acknowledge him.

But he’d kept trying.

“I couldn’t even keep myself from crashing a fucking car. I failed already. She could’ve died.” I was full on sobbing now as everything hit me. I looked from Jax to Clay and asked quietly, “Where’s mom?” I.. Need to see her.”

“Your mom’s down in NICU.” Clay explained, doing his best to give me a reassuring look. Wincing at the way my forehead was stitched. “Least you got the Morrow hard head, huh?” he tried to joke. Jax gave him a warning look, but rather than stubbornly refuse to go along with it like I used to in all of Clay’s past attempts to bond with me over the years, all I could do this time was nod. Mutter quietly, “Thank god.”

My brother cleared his throat.

“What about the father?”

“What about him? He’s married. Dropped me like a bad habit when he found out I wasn’t getting rid of the baby. Only after he tried to pay me off.”

Jax’s fist clenched and I shook my head. “I’m better off… I.. I mean I think I am.” my words fell away and I leaned my head back against the pillow behind me gingerly. 

“You didn’t have any friends you could get to drive you?” Clay questioned. I shook my head, not bothering to open my eyes. “I’d just moved here. I was.. Working up the nerve to come home. I didn’t really know anybody.”

“So the kid’s dad is elsewhere?” Clay questioned further. I could just tell by his tone that he was already thinking of the best way to make the situation right. To make the father of my child pay for being an actual piece of shit.

“Clay, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Leave it alone, sir. Not everybody has to pay for their wrongs your way. The bastard will regret it one day when she grows up and she’s amazing and she didn’t need him. I don’t want the guy near me.”

It didn’t stop the look in his eyes and I sighed. Appealing to the last card I held that I thought might work. “If you care about me at all and you still want to be a part of my life, sir.. You’ll leave this alone. I just… I want to put it behind me.”

I let out a ragged breath and searched his eyes. When he seemed to relax and grumble while shaking his head, I relaxed. It felt as if he were going to let it go as I asked. Maybe going away had changed things just a little.

Jax spoke up quietly. 

“ You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Try being me.” I muttered quietly, letting my brother hug me, holding on just a little tighter.

The door to my room opened again and my mother stepped in. She didn’t look like the same carefully put together woman I remembered. She looked like she was drained. Scared to death.

Suddenly, I wanted to go back in time and punch my younger self in the throat. How could I have ever thought that just because I was a reminder of the affair my mom started with Clay Morrow before Jax’s father passed away that she cared less.. Or that me being around was just painful for her to begin with?

I felt worse than I’ve ever felt before.

Jax stopped my mom, asking if she thought they’d let him go back and sit with my daughter. My mom led him back out in the hallway, probably to go find the NICU nurse on duty and find out the answer, and this left me and my birth father alone together.

“I know we never got along real good, kid.”

“I’m sorry.” I blurted it out before he could say anything else. “I was messed up, okay? The way it came out… The way it made everyone fight… I just.. I don’t know.” I dropped my gaze to the thin white blanket over my legs and Clay sighed.

“If you want to come home… It’d make more sense, I’d think. Gonna be damn hard to help out with my grandkid when you’re all the way in Santa Monica. And I’m not about to let my daughter take all this on by herself. We clear, Red?”

I mulled it over. It wasn’t something I’d already been heavily leaning towards for the better part of a month now. I’d just been too scared to pull the trigger and do it.

“Yes sir.” I answered, managing a smile.

My mom stepped into the room, door shutting behind her quietly.

“I cannot wait until you are away from this hospital. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to get anybody to answer a simple question?” my mom muttered, leaning down, hugging me tight. Fussing over a stitch on my forehead, grumbling “They didn’t even attempt to close this properly. I’ve seen bikers at Sturgis do a better sew up.” and making me laugh. Just a little.

She pulled away from the hug and brushed some hair away from my forehead. “Sweetie, I..” she started to say something but I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t know you felt the way you felt until your brother threw it up right after you left. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Don’t start crying.” my mom was reaching for a tissue, gingerly dabbing it at my eyes. “The important thing is it’s behind us. Okay?”

I nodded.

“You’re moving back to Charming.”

Normally, my mother making demands would’ve set me on edge. But I wasn’t that same angry rebellious girl anymore. And deep down, I was starting to realize just how much I loved and needed my family, especially right now.

Warts and all.

“Okay.” I managed a weak smile.

“Was she okay?” I asked quietly after another tight hug that had me wincing just a little and reminding her gently that I was one giant ache. My mom smiled and nodded. “She’s as beautiful as you, sweetie. And despite the family flaw striking again, I think she’s a fighter already. Have you got a name?��

“ Emma Sophia.”

My mom smiled at that. I figured she would because Emma was basically just Gemma, shortened. And Sophia in tribute to all the old movies she used to make me sit through with her when I was younger, after an actress named Sophia Loren.

“I like that, sweetie.”

When she was sure Clay wasn’t actively listening, she whispered quietly, “And the father?”

“Is not an issue. Nor will he ever be one. I got him to sign away paternal rights.”

“You’re sure.” My mom asked again and I nodded. “He was married, mom, I... “ I trailed off, waiting for a lecture. Instead, my mom sighed and nodded. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

And for the first time in years, I really believed she was right. Maybe everything really would be okay now.

The doctor came in to check on me again and check my vitals and after doing that, he turned to address my mother and Clay.

“Mother and baby’s vitals are holding strong and steady. I’d say that if the pattern continues, we can release Mother by the weekend.”

“What about my baby?” I spoke up quickly.

“We want to keep your daughter for observation. I’d say at least another two weeks.”

I took a few deep breaths, starting to panic a little. Wanting to cry. My mom grabbed hold of my hand and repeated calmly, “Everything will be fine. They kept your brother just as long.”

I nodded, even though the thought still scared the hell out of me. 

                                                    TWO.

The Welcome to Charming sign passed by and I smiled a little. Emma was sleeping in the carrier. I was almost home.

And hopeful.

Just as I turned down the road my mom lived on, my cell phone buzzed. I switched the call so that it went through my radio to answer.

“ Exactly how big is too big for a stuffed animal?” Jax asked and I groaned, shaking my head at the question. “What have you done, Jax?”

“There was a unicorn.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.. Remember that one Clay won you when you were twelve? This one makes two of that one.”

“Where the fuck am I putting this?”

My mom spoke up from the background. “We got it in the nursery. Barely. I told your brother he’s not allowed near the stuffed animals anymore.”

“In my defense ma, it’s my niece.”

I parked behind the motorcycles lining my mother’s driveway. Tensing just a little when I recognized Juice’s Dyna Glide parked next to Tig’s motorcycle.

And as soon as I saw him, it was like everything froze. I wasn’t ready to face him. Especially not when I considered that it felt like someone had just knocked the breath right out of me. As I walked past him, I didn’t dare look over.

I couldn’t do it, no matter how badly every part of me wanted to. My brother and Opie came over, arguing about the unicorn, Opie nearly lifting me off the ground in a hug. I reached back into the car, killing the engine and shutting the driver door. Making my way to the backseat and unbuckling the carrier.

“Awww. She’s even got the same chubby little cheeks, man.” Opie chuckled, elbowing Jax who nodded. I smiled and as soon as Emma started to wake up and cry, I dug around in my diaper bag for the bottle I’d pumped for her at a rest stop.

Sitting the carrier on the trunk of the car, I unfastened Emma, pulling her out.

Instantly drawing over at least ten gigantic bikers. Watching them fuss over her had me laughing and smiling a little.

Juice hung back. Leaning against the tree in the yard with a tire swing. Watching. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to come over with everyone else.. Near me. Or whether he wanted to just leave.

When he started to make his way over after Chibs stopped to whisper something in his ear, I swallowed hard. The guys had gone back to the grill set up behind the house by now. It pretty much left me sitting in the passenger seat of my car finishing up feeding Emma. Humming softly as I did so.

Humming what used to be the song that Juice and I dubbed ‘our song’.

“Visiting? I’m surprised your man let you come by yourself.”

I glanced up at Juice, taking a deep breath. Bracing myself for all the anger and bitterness I thought I’d find waiting in his gaze. Surprised when all I found instead was concern. Maybe a little hurt.

But deeper down, the same way he always used to look at me.

“Juice..” I started, but I went quiet. I didn’t know what to say. There was so much I wanted to say but it was probably beyond too late for that.

More than anything, I wished I had a rewind button.

What if I hadn’t left town? Ran from the way I felt about everything back then?

“I had a while to get over it.” he muttered, gazing at me. Going quiet. “Jax told me why you had to go. I fuckin hated it, but I had a while to get over it.”

I nodded.

Somehow I got the feeling that he was pretending it didn’t kill him. To save face.

Kind of exactly like I was right now.

“You could’ve said somethin, ya know?”

“Juice..”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. Leaning against my car. Staring up at the bright blue of the sky overhead. “It’s over and done with though.”

My stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if what he was saying was a good or a bad thing. Seeing him again after all this time, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to be over.

Because when I left it all behind, I hadn’t just left behind a family that actually loved me, I’d left him behind too.

And looking at him now. With a more adult perspective… I suddenly found myself wondering if leaving him behind had been the biggest mistake of my life…

“Do you want to hold her?”

Juice eyed me but nodded, reaching out for her. “Hey pretty girl.” he muttered, smiling a little. After he held her for a few minutes, he placed her back in my arms.

And as he did so, the touch lingered as we locked eyes.

“I missed you.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I barely survived.” Juice answered, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something else. He turned and walked away and I spent a few minutes trying to pull myself back together again.

It had been harder seeing him again after all this time than I thought.

Harder to resist him. Harder to shove down the surge of emotions. Harder to try not to think about just how much I still loved him and harder to swallow the fact that by now, it was probably too late.

I got the feeling that it was only going to get so much harder.

And I sighed, because every part of me wanted to hold out hope that there was still something there but I had to accept the fact that I’d probably lit a match and set everything on fire when I left town back then. That there wasn’t any hope to be had.

That Juice was done with me.

And that hurt more than I was prepared for.

I shoved it all out of my head, wandering over to where my mom sat. Giving Tara some serious side eye.

“He had to bring her.” my mom was glaring in Tara’s general direction. Rolling her eyes as Tara carried Abel around. Everything Tara Knowles did annoyed my mom. That much hadn’t changed at all.

“In his defense, mom, she’s kind of his old lady.” I pointed out quietly. Taking a sip of the pink lemonade she’d pushed in my direction.

My mom shrugged, grumbling under her breath. Probably something to the effect of she wouldn’t be if my mom had her way about it. I sat down next to her at the picnic table and she peeked in the sling I had Emma strapped into. “Hey sweetie.” she cooed.

Emma grinned up at her, sleepy eyed. After a few seconds, my mom spoke up.

“Speaking of old ladies… If you’re wondering. Juice doesn’t have one.”

“Mom, I.. we both know I ruined everything there when I left.” I sighed, shaking my head no. Trying to cut whatever crazy idea she was formulating out before it took hold. Somehow I got the feeling that it was too late for that. My mom, being the meddling mom she’s known to be at times, she was going to try to shove me right through the ‘healing process’ over the end of my last breakup.

My mom shrugged, shaking her head. Quick to protest, “You never know.”

I didn’t say anything. For one thing, I was trying to get my head around my mom seeming to push me towards Juice. I hadn’t really thought she liked him all that much back then. I know Clay didn’t particularly care for him.

XXX

Juice wasn’t listening to a word Chibs said. Chibs caught sight of the direction he was staring in and he chuckled to himself, nudging Juice in the side, nodding in Hazelynn’s direction. “Go over n’ try t’ talk.”

Juice shook his head. “Every time I think about it, I remember that she’s the one who thought she was too good for any of this and left. Without a good bye. What’s done is done. I wasn’t good enough for her then, why do I wanna be good enough for her now, huh?”

“Maybe it wasn’t that at all.” Chibs butted in. Grumbling as he took a drag of his cigarette. The kid wasn’t listening. He wasn’t stopping to think about everything that unfolded prior to Hazelynn’s decision to leave. Chibs went quiet. He knew better than to try reasoning with the kid. Juice was a hard headed little shit.

“Look at me, Chibs. We both know it was.” Juice insisted, shaking his head sadly. “I tried to be good enough man.. I just fuckin wasn’t.”

Chibs brushed off the statement, putting it down to Juice’s recent downward mood swing and tension. The guy had been down about a lot lately. Like he had a million things on his mind. If Chibs ever tried to bring it up, Juice dismissed it. Stating he didn’t want to talk about it.

Juice bit his lip. Staring at Hazelynn. Sighing as he stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking. Every part of him was still drawn to her. If he could, he’d go over. He’d tell her that he still loved her, he’d never stopped.

But there was so much going on right now.

The biggest part of it being the secret he was being forced to keep. Just the thought of the betrayal he was currently being forced to carry out against men he thought of as brothers was enough to have him tensing up all over again. Any second, they’d figure out it was him. None of the guys in Samcro were that stupid. Even the ones who acted like they were.

Sooner or later, everything would come out.

And Juice Ortiz was living with the weight of that dread and his secrets and decision every single day.

,, I just have to stay away. Keepin her at arms length is keepin her safe.” the solemn thought weighed heavily and he tore his eyes off of her.

Somehow, he got the feeling that would be easier said than done.

[1zashreena1]

Angst Fluff Whiplash -14

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  What does an apex predator do after confessing undying love? Princess is about to find out.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Non-descriptive sexytimes, the L word, criminal activities glossed over, relationship building, plus size woman+fit man, Anxiety, This one is all feels and

I Am So NOT Sorry. 

THE TIME HAS COME

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​ ​ @symbiont13​ ​ @nicke0115​ ​​ @bunnykjm​ ​ @rosee-sensuelle​ ​ @girlpornparadise​ ​ @mandoplease​ ​ @heresathreebee​ ​ @xxsteph-enrixx​ ​ @jetiikad​ ​ @joalsglasses​ ​ @mutantcookiesecrets​ ​ @demoncatstone​ ​ @squidlywiddly87​ ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​ ​ @poeedamerons​ ​

"I don't know, Lisa. He won't tell me. Not until this weekend apparently?  We're supposed to go shopping."

"Honestly, I'm scared. I mean, there's the whole how did he get a passport FOR me dilemma. Then the part where he knows I don't like surprises. And he said he was calling my sister!"

"Oh my God, she could tell him anything! Please don't tell him about the Backstreet Boys phase. I'm going to have a panic attack."

"Of course he would tease me about it for eternity!"

"What? Watch what words? What are you talking about?"

"Do not hang up this phone! Do you even love me?!? Lisa? …. Hello?"

You toss your phone down on the bed and heave a huge sigh. Your very own BFF, abandoning you like that. Luckily its your own phone and not the insane cell Diego got you because it bounces off the other side of the bed and smacks into the wall before admitting total defeat to gravity. 

You stand there staring at your open suitcase. Your typical items are in there already. You don't need any toiletries. Or makeup, now. Or bras. Or underwear. Fucking hell, its like I already moved into the penthouse with him. 

… Could I do that? He already basically asked for it. He keeps telling me to quit my job and let him spoil me for real. You wring your hands together while rubbing your lips against each other and being bombarded with intrusive thoughts. Yeah. Until he's done with me and then I have to start all over. At 35. 

But its been almost a year now that you've been seeing Diego. What does that even mean, "seeing" him? You think about how the last few months have been so… easy. He practically lives in New York now, their territory split. He opted to control the East Coast and let his sister deal with the logistical nightmare of receiving the imports. 

He has been a lot looser since then. Faster to laugh, quicker to goof around, less likely to do anything as hard as he used to do. The distance from Alicia has allowed him to really flourish in every aspect. And he's beautiful with it. The laugh lines and the soft brown eyes wreck you every time.

He says he wants to keep you. Take care of you. You finally believe that he loves you. He has made so many improvements in communication. Hell, he read books on how to be with someone on the spectrum. Do you understand it? Hell no. Are you going to take it and run? Fuck yeah dude. I love him and I want to keep him.

And now he wants to take you on a trip. A surprise destination. Out of the country with a mostly legal passport. You don't doubt that you'll be safe with him. Your parents were a little concerned when you told them since they've never even met him. And they saw him on the national news that time he got arrested by the Feds, so that really inspires confidence. 

Your middle sister Lynne and niece Halley accidentally met him that one afternoon about a month back. And they have not shut up about it since. Diego this, Diego that, blah blah blah, paid the restaurant bill in cash, yadda yadda, took us all shopping to a Coach store and then got Halley some crazy new sold out Nikes. Diego had been delighted to be surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls enjoying his spoiling attentions. Just like always, Diego went to the max and charmed them silly.

It was like having an out of body experience to see Diego with them. You couldn't really fault them, he swept you off your feet with no problems.  He was grinning and joking the whole time, making raunchy comments with your sister and encouraging your niece to be assertive (unnecessary according to her soccer coach and the 'Most Aggressive' trophy). He fit right in with them. Afterwards he had asked if that was what it was like to have normal siblings and your heart broke thinking about what his childhood had been like with his sister. 

Which brought you back to the here and now. He had mentioned off hand that he was going to call your sister. Maybe you should text her. She might know something.

Maybe you should just pack your bag and trust him. 

Your Diego Cell chirps and you dive for it on the nightstand. Is he okay? Please don't be hurt.

Its a pic of him. In the shower. With his own hand wrapped around himself. You choke on air and have to sit down. 

I miss you Princess

Holy. Shit. Its been almost a year that you have had unrestricted access to that incredible body and your reaction is still the same. Before you can respond another text arrives:

SOON

The attached pic is just from squinty eyes up.

You burst out laughing at him. You love that he is secretly a nerd about internet stuff. His appearance would never give that away. Time to be ridiculous right back.

Don't make me lick your eyeball 

You are a crazy person laughing to yourself alone in your bedroom.

You are so weird

Yet there you are, lusting after this weirdo

You shoot back.

… Am I the weirdo??

No. Still you.

I would threaten to bite it.. but you would like that

Well now you have to

Oh my God. You're fairly certain you could do anything to this man and he would think it was sexy. Its a novel experience.

Can we eat dinner at home tomorrow? I don't feel like wearing a real bra

You know the answer to that. 

YES. NO MORE BRAS EVER AGAIN. BE FREE

… no panties?🙏🥺

You can see the hopeful puppy dog eyes clearly.

A for effort babe. One of these days you might get your wish lol

...Are you panty free right now?

Wow. He is really trying here.

I'm packing. 

Your pic is a heap of tangled thongs dumped on top of Tiny Murder Panther.

💜🔥😛

He would find that hot. Fucking nympho.

Lemme finish this so I can go straight to the airport tomorrow

Fine. But I am pouting 

You do not doubt that.

Don't care. Still love your stupid face

You cannot believe you just sent that. 

Princess. 

Mi amor.

Diego's good little girl.

You shudder with the praise. You can hear it in his voice, as if he were right here with you.

I love you

Dream of me?

Oh baby, if you only knew. You sigh wistfully.

Always, baby

---------------‐---------

The flight is uneventful, thankfully. Your maxidress with a built-in shelf bra is stupidly comfortable and you actually take a nap. 

The plane has barely come to a stop and you already have on your silly lambswool lined Ugg flip flops. You had argued with Diego about these (Why would flip flops need a warm fuzzy lining??) but he had won by sticking one in your face and ordering you to feel. It didn't take a full second for you to snatch them both from him and cuddle them to your chest. His pleased smile full of dimples was worth all the subsequent teasing.

You slip on one of his previously stolen shirts in a metallic lilac color and roll up the sleeves so you have use of your hands. Bending at the waist, you flip your hair over and fluff it back up from the nap. What was that he had said? Oh yes: Wild and thick, just how I like it. The memory makes you bite your bottom lip and smile.

Bastian is waiting for you on the tarmac. He takes your bag and kisses you on the cheek in greeting. "Hey, sweetie. Nice shirt, is that new?"  His knowing grin is infectious. 

You nuzzle into the collar with a laugh. "Thanks! My boyfriend gave it to me." 

Bastian chuckles as he opens the passenger door for you. "Oh, honey. That is not all he is going to give you." He closes the door while you roll your eyes smirkingly. 

The ride to the penthouse is uneventful. Well, as uneventful as Friday evening rush hour traffic can be in New York. 

Bastian waits until the song is over before lowering the stereo volume. "We're supposed to pick up dinner. Any requests?" He drums his fingers on the steering wheel while you sit at the red light.

You ponder the options. "What kind of a day has he had? Meetings? Tours? Disciplinary action?" You ask Bastian thoughtfully. Sometimes when Diego has a bad day he likes comfort food. Mostly a giant heap of rice and beans next to homemade tortillas, he isn't so picky about the variety of meat.

Bastian glances at you out of the corner of his eye before warily answering, "There was a… termination… at a construction site this afternoon that took longer than expected. That's why he didn't come to get you, he wanted to shower first."

You keep your eyes focused forward to look out of the windshield. "Okay. How about Jalisco's then?" Comfort food it is. 

Bastian nods and adjusts course to obtain those tortillas.

‐--------------------

The instant the elevator doors ding open Diego pops up from the sectional and comes straight at you. Your giant sidestep to let Bastian pass is barely completed before Diego is slipping those big hands under his own pilfered shirt to crush your body to him. Your arms go around his neck like a reflex, like this is their natural resting place. He leans his forehead down onto yours and kisses you so very gently.

"Mmmm. Hi." You murmur softly into his beard. Those bottomless brown eyes look over your entire face before coming back to your own. His smile is huge, those dimples make your pulse trip. He blinks slowly down at you, just like the big cat you nicknamed him after. 

"Princess. How was the trip?" He always asks you this. You still aren't sure if its just culturally specific manners or if he is requesting a review of the flight crew's performance. Either way, your answer is always the same.

You pull him back down so you can cuddle into his neck. "Its better now that I'm here." He rubs his cheek against your own and purrs directly into your ear in response. Your body's reaction is immediate and decisive. You shiver in his arms and your nipples peak to full attention.

Except this time is different. With only a bralette and the dress's shelf bra Diego can clearly feel what just happened in real time. His eyes are comically round as he peers down at your cleavage in pleasant wonder.

"Oh. I like this outfit." His hands rise up your back to crush you further into him. You chuckle and rub your chest on his firm pectoral muscles. He watches hungrily as your compressed decolletage rises higher yet from the added pressure. "New rule to match the bedroom pants bar, no bras in the penthouse. Fucking magnificent, bonita." He licks his lips after making this proclamation.

You throw your head back and laugh joyfully.

‐----------------------

As it always does the weekend passes too quickly. Its already 1:00pm on Saturday when you two finally come down from the bedroom.

Diego is delighted to hear that your time-off request was approved for the trip. You had told him not to worry about it, your boss always kept her word about this stuff. 

That’s when he pulls a ridiculous pith hat out from under the couch. It looks like it came straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon about a big game hunt on the African savannah.  You lose your entire shit and laugh until you do that silent clapping seal move.

Diego keeps repeating, "Wait, stop laughing. Stooooop." But he isn't faring much better. You finally wipe the tears and calm down enough to take it from his limp fingers while he chortles a few last times.

"Baby. What. What the fuck. What fucking is this??" You plunk the hat on your own head and Diego collapses facedown into your lap to gigglesnort uproariously. "Stop. Stop laughing. Stoppit!" You smack the back of his head lightly until he comes up for air.

He closes his eyes and composes himself. You take the opportunity to plop the hat on his head.

"Oh my god, that is so sexy!" You declare in high dramatics. 

He grabs your hands and leans in very close to explain. "You need this hat for our trip." Your eyes narrow in suspicion. "You will wear it for our safari quest…" he pauses for dramatic effect and your lips twitch in suppressed amusement. He leans closer yet and captures your stare. His face is hilarious, you can tell he is biting his cheek to keep from laughing. His eyebrows are drawn down in concentration but his eyes are widened in mock excitement. He sucks in a deep breath to exclaim, "To locate palm trees in the wild!"

He laughs as he puts the hat back on you.

You blink a few times in shock. Palm trees? You're going somewhere with palm trees? A tropical locale. Palm trees. Beaches. SWIMSUITS. Your sudden panic must show on your face because Diego's laughter dies off.

You blink furiously, but its too little too late. The tears burn as they well up in your eyes and spill down over your cheeks.

He reaches out to cup your face. "Princess?" His tone is an even mix of concern and fear. "Bicki? What?"

You shake your head 'no' and throw yourself into him. Diego catches you and hauls you into his lap. You curl up against his chest and sob quietly. He pets over your hair, open handed strokes so his fingers don't tangle in the curls, and soothes your back while you shake. Rubbing his nose against your temple, he kisses your cheek and whispers, "Do you want to write?" His gentle care only makes you worse. "...so that is no." He looks crestfallen. He buries his face in your hair and breathes heavily.

Your tears are slowing and your chest is finally beginning to loosen. "Dieg-" you hiccup, wrapping both hands around his forearm. You wheeze a few times before trying again. "I. I. Where? Where are we g-going?" 

He sighs deeply before answering. "Nowhere. I won't take you somewhere you don't want to go. I should have known better. I-" He snaps his jaw shut so fast that his teeth click together. 

Tilting your head back, you try to catch his eyes. Diego won't look at you. "H-hey, please." You cup his jaw and pull him down to you. He comes, but the motions are stilted. "Look. Please, baby. Let me s-see you."

When he finally meets your eyes it breaks your heart. That chocolate gaze is disappointed, hurt, frustrated even. You wiggle around until you're straddling his lap. He just holds his hands out of the way, not hindering you but certainly not helping either. Standing up on your knees to lean your forehead against his, you reach for his hands and bring them to your chest where you lace your fingers together. 

"Baby. I want that." Your nose rubs against his as you speak. "I want to go everywhere with you. I never thought I would ever get a chance like this. To travel? To go somewhere tropical? To have someone who loves me enough to do this for me?" You're crying again. And so is Diego? A little?? 

He brings your joined hands up to tap your chin. His face is adorably conflicted when he speaks, "You… want to go?" You nod slowly. His eyebrows lower as he tries to make sense of this. "Then why do you cry? Are they, the uh, is that 'happy tears' ?"

Your hands shake in his. "Yeah. Happy tears. I just. I was overwhelmed. I'm sorry." He huffs out a sigh. You continue, "Its almost like the super intense emotions short circuit my responses and I guess my default is panic crying? I don't know."

Diego huffs at you again. "Please stop that. I'm going to have a heart attack." There is a hint of real annoyance in his voice but his lips curl up at the corners. 

You free your right hand to reach up and brush his wet lashes. Why did something this little bring him to tears? "Baby, is everything okay?"

He leans into your hand, then turns to kiss your fingers. You giggle, you can't help it, his beard both tickles and delights you. He smirks at you, "It is now, Princess. You should get dressed so we can go." 

But you're not done here yet. "Where are we going on the trip? A place name, not foliage that may or may not be present."

His Cheshire cat grin is intriguing and mildly worrisome. He gives you one word, "Xcalak." And then watches while you access your mental map and pinpoint the exact location. 

It takes you a moment but you find it with a gasp. "Costa Maya? Like Caribbean-sea side of Mexico??"  He nods and you immediately start in with 20 Questions. "Are there cenotes? Is the water really those unreal colors? Is the food amazing there? Can we see ruins?"

Diego cups your face to stop you. "Whatever you like, little girl." With a kiss to your nose and a smack to your ass he ushers you upstairs to get dressed. 

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

The shopping is less traumatic than normal for you thanks to Diego making enthusiastic innuendo nonstop and feeding you between stores. You find sandals, and flip flops, and little slip-on sneakers. All kinds of flowy maxidresses and flouncy skirts paired with new tank tops in buttery soft fabrics. Cover-ups and kimonos and huge airy loose knit sweaters get rung up with linen pants and shorts you actually feel comfortable wearing.

But swimsuits? A disaster. Everything that fits your hips is way too big for your ribcage. Tankinis big enough to go around your middle are about a foot too wide around your chest. You try some maternity stuff… amazingly there isn't any chest support. That confuses both of you for almost 20 minutes while you discuss it over croissants and various iced beverages (coffee for him and some kind of hot chocolate slushie for you).

Then you look across the street and inspiration hits. One of the stores you order bras from is right there and has bra-sized swimwear in the display window. Diego turns to see what stole your undivided attention from him and slaps his hand down on the table in celebration. 

You aren't sure which one of you is more excited to get into the store. But while you run around exclaiming at all the things that come in your size Diego stands in the doorway and gawks. When you circle back to check on him he just points to one display wall.

There is lacy, frilly, corseted lingerie. In. Your. Size.

He demands one of everything that fits you and isn't red, brown, or yellow. You don't even argue.

The store does alterations and makes very good recommendations. The sales clerk is impressed with Diego's input, she comments that he really does seem to know your body well. You flush with it, glad that he isn't close enough to hear that. You leave with three bags and seven personalized swim outfits under construction. One is ready to wear and you keep reaching into the bag to touch it in wonder. 

Diego notices but just gives you a raised eyebrow. 

"This is the first time I've ever felt good about how I look in swimwear." You confess quietly. 

Diego wraps a massive arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side while you continue down the sidewalk. 

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

Sunday is a mess as you try to make pancakes and Diego tries to remain physically attached to you like an excessively attractive barnacle. The pancakes are either burnt or still batter in the middle. Leftover carnitas and tortillas to the rescue. Diego teases you about the kitchen failure all day because this is the first time he has witnessed such a thing.

You doze on the couch under the pretense of "reading". Diego rotates through his laptop, cell, and the soccer match on ESPN+. 

Until his phone rings. 

You both tense up. Only one person calls him instead of texting. He takes the phone into the office to answer his sister. You wait on the couch to see which Diego you get back: silly tickle fight Diego,  sad puppy dog eyes Diego that requires cuddles, or  angry Diego that needs to fuck you through the nearest horizontal surface. 

The elevator dings and Julio comes in with a tray of coffees. "Ay, Gordita. Buenas tardes. I got you the hibiscus thing you like." He greets you with a big smile, then looks around when he doesn't see Diego on the sectional with you.

Hopping up to help him carry stuff, you point to the office in indication of Diego's location. Julio makes a face, "Hermana perra?" and you simply nod. Julio takes Diego's iced coffee and bites the bullet for you. The door closes softly behind him.

You munch plantain chips and slurp hibiscus lemonade until they come out.  Diego just looks tired when he comes back to you on the couch, coffee in hand. You open your arms in invitation and he plops next to you with a sigh. Cuddly Diego it is.

He doesn't tell you anything and you don't ask. Everyone watches the match mindlessly. Diego snores softly in your lap while you pet his hair.

He rides to the airport with you but you forbid him from coming onto the plane with you. He is already making this harder than it has to be with his big brown eyes and clingy hands.

"Baby." You breathe into his hair while he snuggles into your neck in the backseat of the SUV. "Its only a week. We do this every week." You pet down his bicep and immediately regret it.

"I know." Diego huffs into your skin. "Why don't you just quit? Let me take care of everything." You go through this almost every week now, too. He nuzzles you, the sensation makes you reconsider his proposal. You pull his head up by a fistful of soft hair and look him in the eye. He blinks guilelessly at you.

"Number one: No. Number two: Stoppit." He laughs at your fond exasperation. "Okay. I'm gonna go. You stay on the ground."

"Fine." He whines. "But I am going to send you a dick pic the moment that plane takes off." He crosses his arms as if daring you to tell him no.

You cup his stupidly attractive face in your hands for a kiss. Okay, several kisses and 27 minutes later, you respond, "Send me one every day. Its my favorite dick." His startled laugh makes you feel very pleased with yourself.

He pulls you into his arms again to kiss you one last time. His beard scratches and you sigh into him. Finally that tongue retreats and he rests his forehead on yours. His voice is low and rough, his hands squeeze tight on your hip and thigh, "I love you, Princess."

Will that ever stop hurting? You close your eyes against the burn of tears but smile with happiness. "I love you, Diego." You pop the door handle before you open your eyes to see him watching you, jaw tense. You stick your tongue out and he breaks into a smirk. With a laugh, you slide out of SUV and walk to the plane, determined not to look back.

When you get up the stairs the pilot greets you, but his gaze shifts behind you. Turning around, you see Diego standing outside the SUV, arms crossed and trying to look so not soft. You smile and mouth Bye baby, he gives you a short little wave. You duck into the plane before you can start crying.

The wheels are not, in fact, off the ground when the phone chirps.

‐-----------------------

The trip is a few weeks out and there is some kind of emergency at the San Diego docks the next weekend. So. You don't get your Murder Panther fix. 

And your coworkers notice. They spend all day Monday strolling past your cubicle, straining their necks to see if you're wearing new shoes or some fresh bling. Finally someone has the nerve to ask how your weekend was. 

You find yourself blinking back tears. I miss him so much. This is ridiculous, he just texted you at like six this morning. But its not just the conversation you miss, now is it? You miss that big body crowding you into the corner of the couch. His soft curls under your hands. That beard on literally any inch of your skin. Draping yourself over shoulders wider than your hips and knowing that not only can he take your weight, he likes it.

He says he wants to keep you and you desperately want to keep him. Why do you fear this? Is it just his profession? The risk? Oh god, how do you even go about introducing him to your parents??? Diego can be all kinds of charming but he can be a real asshole, too.

And they know what he is: A criminal.  For your boomer parents he is the living embodiment of Public Enemy Number One. 

Grand Theft. 

Money Laundering.

Arson.

Murder.

International Cocaine Trafficking. 

HE IS A LITERAL DRUG LORD.

You lay your head down on your desk and try to keep it together. 

Your Diego Cell chirps.

Your laughter bubbles up until it comes out of you without your consent. It turns hysterical and you realize you need to leave the office suite. Now. 

In the bathroom you stare down at the phone as it lights up again with another message.

Miss my Princess💔👑

How? How is someone who can do all those illegal things so nauseatingly sweet to me?

And then it hits you. Illegal. You didn't use the word immoral. Illegal. You think back to how everyone you see working directly for him is well into adulthood. No children. There are a few women but they are not being sold by him, they are there by their own free will. And he has never laid a hand on any of them, they're just as comfortable around him as the men are. No sex trafficking.  You saw someone give their resignation last month. The dude walked away with a suitcase of cash for a decade of trustworthy service. Its a better retirement plan than what I have. 

Have you seen him assault people? Yes. You've seen him stab people. Carve off someone's ear because they weren't listening as assigned and it cost the Jimenez Cartel a shipment. You've seen him push an informant down an empty elevator shaft. Choke a man into unconsciousness with his bare hands when you were disrespected. 

And you still love him. Not a single one of those incidents weighs on your conscience. Your morality is a dingy grey 12 year old men's undershirt that you should just throw away but you're definitely going to cut into rags to keep for cleaning when it comes to Diego. 

The cell lights up again.

Mi amor 💞😍🍑🏝✈⏲👙

You don't know what's worse: His excessive and ridiculous usage of emojis or the fact that you understood. 

Look what came

The attached pic is a few pieces of your new swimwear. They look gorgeous, you can't even tell where the alterations were done.

You have to try on all of them. And show me

Of course he wants his own personal show. You feel desire burning low in your belly. Its been a year and not once has he ever shied away from your stomach rolls or hinted at weight loss. He never questions the food you order. And while the two of you have chuckled about shapewear he has never mocked you for using it. Or seemed disappointed when you opted not to wear it. He tosses you around like its nothing and prefers for you to sleep on top of him. Its not that he loves you despite your weight, he loves it as part of you.

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

Its now Thursday and the desk drawer where you keep your purse at work is vibrating. He knows I'm at work. If he calls right back I'll answer him. You try to keep your Diego Cell out of sight at work or you'll never get anything done. Plus your coworkers are always dying to catch a peek of your infamous sugar daddy/boyfriend.

Yeah. Boyfriend. Keep practicing that. It feels good. 

You finish the insurance call and hang up your headset when the vibrating starts again. Your next door cubicle neighbor pops around the divider to advise you to answer that before he comes down here and abducts you.

What deity should I pray to for that??

You snatch Diego Cell and march out to the hall. Poking the green button, you answer the call.

"Baby. You okay?"

"Princess! I… yeah. I'm not hurt."

He sounds odd. There is definitely something going on here.

"What's up? You need me?"

The silence stretches. 

"Yes. Please?"

Diego sounds very uncomfortable. It causes you physical pain.

"Well, you have me. What is it?"

You can hear him swallow and in your mind you picture him looking away, hiding some soft emotion shining in his eyes.

"Baby?"

"Here. I am here. I just. I just wanted to hear you."

Something is very wrong with my Murder Panther, you think.

"Babe," your voice is soft, you're trying to ease him. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He huffs and you can hear him scrape a hand down over his face. "I know you are at work. And I should not have called. But."

His voice trembles, even over the phone you can hear it. He's afraid.

"Diego. If you need me, then you have me. Tell me, baby." You try to be reassuring but you also really need to know what is wrong.

"I would like to come down there." His declaration is overly formal. You wonder who he is trying to impress. Its certainly not me.

"You… want to come down here instead of me going up there this weekend?"  You're trying to make sense out of any part of this conversation. 

"I…. grrrrrrrrr."  He growls in frustration. Between English being his second language and your sensory processing issues, this is not an uncommon occurrence. He sucks in a deep breath and charges forward in an emotional rush. "I know you're working, but I want to come down there because I miss seeing your face." Before you have a chance to answer he adds, "Pick me up? At the airport, after work? Please, Bicki." His voice cracks at the end and his inhalation is ragged. Your heart implodes. 

"Diego. Baby. Of course. Of course I will. I can be there by six." You have a mental flash of how dirty your bathroom is, all the clothes you have laying around, and the vacuum you haven't touched in over a month. Diego needing me is more important.

"Good. Good. Yes, I. I will text you. When I land." His voice is raspier than ever, low and gravelly. 

"Sure. I'll be there." I'll always be there.

"Okay. You… you should go." You can hear his determination. You can visualize him squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, taking on the Jimenez Cartel persona. 

"Hey." He grunts in acknowledgement. "I love you." You blurt it out before you have a chance to talk yourself round in circles. You can hear voices in the background. 

"And you. You as well." The call ends, but you know.

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

You're sitting in your car at the little regional airport second guessing the coffee you got when the phone chirps. 

Here

Springing out of the car, you wave to the security guard as you trot past. "Hey Jim, I just have to grab someone real quick. That's okay, right?" You wave vaguely back toward your car parked in the fire lane. There are only four security guards who work here and they all know you at this point. 

Jim laughs but waves you on. "Go get 'im, sweetie." Jim must be pushing 90 by now, he doesn't care about traffic laws.

You enter one of the two sets of automatic doors on this entire building and cross through the tiny lobby. There. You can see his dark hair and ridiculous shoulders over a completely unnecessary row of potted plants. He must hear your echoing footsteps because his head whips around in alarm, but his face relaxes into a wide smile. He lengthens his strides to come around the stupid plants, hands automatically reaching out for you.

"Diego." You laugh breathily and fling arms around his neck. He smells so good. 

He crushes you to his chest and buries his face in your neck. "Printhesss." He murmurs into you, slurred because he refuses to remove his mouth from your skin. 

Turning your head to kiss his cheek, you moan shamelessly for him. He surges back upward to capture your lips and kiss you with mild desperation. That devious tongue sweeps over the roof of your mouth before curling up behind your top front teeth. 

Your entire world narrows down to Diego. Chocolate. Tastes like the smoothest Belgian chocolate in existence. He smells perfect, clean but definitively male to you. His silky button-down is smooth under your hands, stretched taut over muscle. Those massive hands gather you closer, molding you to that big, solid body. His beard scratches your face in soft tickles when he alters the angle of the kiss just so.

"Goddamn." A woman's voice exclaiming somewhere behind you catapults you back into the here and now. Which is a dinky little regional airport in rural central Pennsylvania. You know, a very public location in a very prudish area of the country. Fuck.

You pull back and Diego's hands shoot up to the back of your head. Holding you in place, he leans his forehead against yours with a contented sigh. He rumbles softly to you, "Take me home."

You feel so silly seeing Diego in the passenger seat of your Corolla, he just seems so out of place. "You can adjust the seat however, nobody really sits there. I just put it all the way back to make sure you can get in without cracking your head." You sound nervous even to your own ears.

Diego turns to you with a response but his attention is captured by the cup holders in the center console, specifically the Dunkin Donuts styrofoam cup. He points to it, then looks up at you with a slow grin. "Princess. Is this for me?"

You flush but can't stop the embarrassed little smile so you cover it with sass, "Well, it sure as hell ain't for me." You start the car and give Jim a little wave. He winks and gives you two thumbs up. Yeah, I'm aware that you saw that kiss too, old man. Everyone saw that shit.

When Diego reaches for the coffee his fingers brush your hip. The contact burns and you suddenly remember that you have not touched this beautiful man for well over two weeks. Apparently he remembers, too, because he wraps that huge hand around your thigh with rather a lot of force. Right hand slapping down to cover his, your heart rate jumps through the roof. Did I take my blood pressure pill this morning?

"Don't." You choke out.

He rumbles softly next to you, purring with conceited pleasure. "Did my Princess miss Diego?" He asks you with an incredibly pornographic voice. 

"Oh, fuck you." Your answering groan is also obscene. So glad the windows are up.

His hoarse chuckle makes your thighs tremble. "You're Diego's good little girl, you will." He's right and you both know it. You would ride him right here in your own damn car if he demanded it. You have a problem.

He lets you redirect his hand to the coffee with only a little resistance. "Focus." You hiss.

"Me or you?" Diego quips.

"Yes." You declare.

Diego's guffaw is contagious and you don't even try to hold back.

Your apartment always seems like an adequate size until Diego is inside. No, bad Bicki. Do not say it like that. His presence just sort of… lounges about in a vaguely threatening but highly attractive manner. Much like the actual man on your couch. You tried to pick up dinner on the way but he just wanted to 'go home'. You are disgustingly happy that your place feels like home to him.

Diego had flopped on your couch immediately and hasn't moved since. Something is very definitely very wrong. There were bursts of your Murder Panther in the car, but he has been just subdued overall. He had turned your stereo up and smiled faintly, watching you sing along. He had also complained that the stereo in your car sucked (Agreed) and this was unacceptable. You're sure he'll do something ridiculously extravagant to remedy this.

You try to give him the remote, he takes it but doesn't do anything with it. You offer him food, both junk and something home-cooked, all you get is a shrug. You putter around for a while, picking things up and sighing before putting them down somewhere else. His dark eyes watch you, unfathomable. 

Finally you disappear to the bedroom only to return in your pajamas. This he likes, perking up and blinking rapidly. "Okay, I know you brought something softer than those jeans, so get comfy so I can order shitty pizza and cuddle you."

His jaw drops in momentary shock. Then he scoffs, "I do not cu--"

You cut him off, "Yes, you do and yes, you're going to. Up. Now." This has to be hilarious. This short little woman in overly long pants barking orders at the massive man who heads an international drug cartel. Well, its either hilarious or fatal. I'm about to find out.

Diego looks around, as if someone else might secretly be here to witness him be a little bit submissive and moderately soft. He raises his chin in a tiny show of defiance. "Fine. But I am showering first." He glares with this proclamation, daring you to contradict him.

You throw your hands up in the air. Why the fuck would I have a problem with that?? His eyes follow your hands, like a cat when you try to point out a bit of food but all it does is rub your finger. You sigh, resigned to your fate. "Of course that's fine, Diego. You know where everything is, have at it."

You watch his butt as he walks away to the bathroom. 

The pizza actually isn't shitty and Diego eats half of it by himself. When you offer him the cinnamon dessert sticks he shoots you a calculating look. You split the contents, pulling two sticks over to yourself and piling up the rest in front of him. His delighted grin is decidedly not calculated and you lose track of time watching him enjoy dessert.

He's beautiful like this. He wears a soft, silky t-shirt that is tight enough to help you get through the nights you spend alone. His hair is a riot of fluffy curls, free of product and clearly trying to break free of gravity, too. He hasn't shaved for at least a few days and that salt and pepper beard is filling in nicely. His face is unguarded, expression open, those laugh lines and dimples you love make frequent appearances.

After dinner you lay all over each other in some weird we-have-intimacy-issues approximation of cuddling. It works so you don't question it. He has his laptop and you have your tablet and together you have sporadic conversation. Its comfortable. 

Until Diego asks you a seemingly innocuous question that you know is very nefarious:

"What color do you like in cars?"

Your eyes narrow so much that you have trouble seeing. "...Why." Your low tone might be frightening to anyone else.

He looks at you over the laptop screen, brown eyes innocently wide. "Just curious. Your car is green. Do you like any other colors?" He slowly pulls the laptop closer to himself to subtly cover the screen with his bulk. 

"Diego." You slowly put down your tablet and start leaning toward him. He has nowhere to go, propped up in the corner of the chaise end of the sofa. "What. Are. You. Doing." 

"Will you let me take care of you? Just in this one way right now?" He licks his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. Building desperation shows in his eyes and you can't fight that. You don't want to win this.

"Let me see, baby." Your sighed acquiescence has an instantaneous effect. Diego drops the tension from his shoulders and opens an arm to you in invitation. You crawl up him to cuddle into his chest, wedged on your side between all those muscles and the back of the sectional. From here you are stationed directly in front of the laptop screen.

He is looking at cars. 

Armored cars. 

Armored, bulletproof, explosive resistant cars. 

What. The. Fuck.

"Diego, what the fuck is going on?!?" Your apprehensive demand sets him right back on edge. You can feel him go tense underneath you. The laptop gets shoved onto an empty cushion as you throw yourself over him. Tiny hands land on those broad shoulders with extreme force as you use all of your deadweight to trap him. Below you, Diego shakes but you can't tell if its from anger or anxiety because his eyes are scrunched closed tightly. "Tell me why I need a fucking bulletproof car!"

He surges up into your face to match your volume, "She knows! Mi hermana perra knows about you! Alicia found out about us!" You lurch back in shock, but the steel hands on your hips stop you from retreating. His voice is hoarse, louder than you've ever heard him, and its terrifying. Your fear must show because he releases his grip on you like it burns. 

"WHAT?" The ramifications here could truly be lethal. Alicia has already tried to set Diego up to take the fall when they were arrested almost four months ago. You know she has scorned Diego's familiarity with his men in the past, that is why he handpicks them personally. To Alicia, everyone is disposable, even her own brother. Her only loyalty is to herself.

Diego's hands come up in an aborted reach for you. You're still too shocked to move. His face crumbles in agony and he blinks furiously, hands balling into fists. "Everything I have ever wanted she has ensured I never got. She, she manipulates me into destroying everything I touch. I will not let her hurt you! I refuse to allow her to break us, mi amor!!" His volume has steadily escalated until he is yelling. 

He's afraid. He is afraid that he will lose me. The realization emboldens you enough to take his hands in your own, bring them to your chest, and press them close to your heart. You trust that he won't hurt you in his rage. You don't fear him, this dangerous, powerful, ruthless man that you love.

His hands open to slide up your shoulders, curl around your neck, and his thumbs glide over the pulse point under your ears. He brings your face to his own, his expression twisted up with fear and anger and possession and love. 

"You are mine! And I will keep you!"

You realize everything that you have been debating with yourself, all of your pro versus con lists, your stupid little dry erase board covered in sticky notes with your fears, your scribbled timeline of events and possible future predictions, none of it matters. All you care about is the man in your arms. Diego is the most important thing in your life and you can't imagine a life without him. If you had to give up everything to keep him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

Your hands grip tightly around his wrists and you consciously straighten your spine. Expression hardening, your eyes open to meet his anguished gaze.

 "I want black."

The armored 2020 Camry is delivered that Sunday. You thank him for finding something inconspicuous with an upgraded JBL sound system and he compliments your understated color choice of Black Sand Metallic. By the time you drop him off at the airport that evening you've managed to replace the new car smell with something better and you're thankful that the leather seats just wipe clean. Monday morning in the parking lot at work, however, is a literal ordeal.

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

The next two weeks feel like they’re seven months long. You clock out at noon on Thursday to a chorus of your coworkers making vaguely lewd remarks and howling with laughter about your vacation. 'Two whole weeks on a beach in Mexico with an absolutely loaded hottie' is what they've been repeating gleefully all week. 

You turn around and walk backwards to give them finger guns, "Yes," then you reach down to adjust your pants, "And YES." Their squeals are contagious and you're still laughing when you burst out the front doors to drive home. 

You turn the volume waaaay too high in the car so that your teeth vibrate and it feels like you're having heart palpitations. I love this fucking car and I love that man. 

There is a rental Tahoe parked in the grass next to the huge gravel driveway at your farmhouse, but he left the second assigned parking space next to your Corolla open so you can park The Beast (as you have affectionately named your new ride) appropriately while away. When you get out of the car you glance up instinctively, Diego is standing outside your front door on the small third floor balcony laughing. 

"Are you deaf yet, Princess?" He hollers down in amusement. 

You flip him off with the middle finger that wears the gemstone ring he gave you while yelling back, "WHAAAAT??"

His laughter fades as he disappears inside, leaving the door wide open to let out all the cold air. Were you raised in a barn?? Close the door, the electric bill-- You cut off your own thoughts when you suddenly remember that you haven't been paying that electric bill for the last six months. Nevermind.

Before you can start up the stairs, Sara, your first floor neighbor, appears on the porch with their toddler. "Hey stranger!" Sara waves with a big smile and the kid does the same but with some kind of unidentifiable kitchen utensil in hand. "That is your boyfriend, right? He had a key so I didn't think it was your ex but I wanted to make sure. I mean, from what I just saw it is your boyfriend. Also, holy shit, that's your boyfriend?"

If she says the word 'boyfriend' one more time I'm going to spontaneously combust. 

"Uh yeah, definitely not my ex. Sorry, I forget that you guys haven't really seen him before, I meant to tell you he was coming." You can feel your face burning and it isn't from the August sun. Sara fans her own face with a hand while mouthing 'he's hot' like you're somehow unaware. You forge on before she can start gushing aloud. "We're actually leaving on a trip tonight so I'll be gone for the next two weeks."

Now Sara drops the kid and scrambles over to whisper fiercely to you, "Oh my god, seriously? Where are you going? Wait, this is the same guy you've been going to see in New York, right? How long has it been, like a year? Is he taking you on a trip for your anniversary? I don't even know his name. Oh my god, that is so sweet!"

Okay, down girl. You're not sure who you're trying to will into being chill, Sara or yourself. 

"Um, we're going to Mexico. And yeah, he's the guy in New York. It's just a vacation." You don't even touch the relationship questions with a ten foot pole. You glance up but Diego is still inside, Thank fuck. 

Sara hops a little in excitement. "I'm sooo jealous!" She squeals. "You have to take a ton of pictures! I need to see! Oh my god, I bet you guys are such a cute couple!" You nod and start backing away, trying to wave goodbye so you can climb the stairs and then climb Diego. "Ooh ooh, wait, what's his name?" Sara hisses conspiratorially. "Does he speak Mexican? Is he Mexican!?!"

You suddenly remember why you tried to move away from this area. Repeatedly. "Yeah, he's Mexican and yes, he speaks Spanish." You sigh. Sara nods but continues staring at you expectantly. Fine. "His name is Diego."

Sara makes a stupid face like this is a rom-com movie. I cannot take anymore, you must shut the fuck up. "Okay, okay. I won't hold you up. But seriously, we can have a 'pics and wine' girls' night when you come back!" She waves maniacally before snatching up the kid and skipping back inside. 

I can't think of anything I would like less. Oh hell no.

You climb the stairs in record time before she can come back outside and start talking again.

Bastian, Julio, and a third man you don't know are in your living room. You do not care and your vague wave shows it. You can hear Julio's warm 'Gordita!' greeting as you spin around and march to the bedroom.

Diego is standing at your bed, tucking TMP into your small duffel, when you burst through the doorway and continue at full speed directly into him. He laughs breathlessly but holds steady against your weight. "Princess. Are you ready?"

You take overflowing fistfuls of his shirt, bury your face in his chest, suck in a huge lungful of air, and shriek at full volume.

"Uhhh...that is a yes, si?" He mutters uncertainly above you. 

You rear back to look up at him with a smile so wide it hurts.

"Oh good." His hands come to your shoulders while those beautiful brown eyes sparkle. The dimples and laugh lines come out as he absorbs your infectious excitement. Your hands shoot up to his hair to yank him down so you can crash your mouths together with bruising force.

The effect is immediate. He moans loudly and crushes you against him. You dig nails into his neck and you lick your way into his mouth, his hands snake down to your ass to hold tight. Your left leg comes up as you try to wrap it around his hips. With a pained groan he rips those lips off of yours and pulls back. Undeterred, you move on to assaulting his now bared throat, moaning like porn come to life.

"Princess," he gasps, "You have to sto-- uhhh, yes, bonita. Your fucking tongue." You're too busy licking his adam's apple to pay attention to words right now. "Nooo, mi amor, please, lo siento, stopstopstop." You get in one last nip of his collarbone as he pulls your head back via a handful of ringlets. His pupils are blown wide and he's panting hard. You stare longingly at his delectable mouth while making pitiful whines.

"Please, baby, pleeeease. You're all I've thought about for days. I need you!" You try shameless begging, you're certainly not lying. Petting over his shoulders and down that solidly muscled chest, you shudder and try to pull yourself back to him.

He closes his eyes with a grimace. "Flight! Fuck you on the flight!" He croaks, then yanks your hair harder than you like. The pain clears the fog just enough for you to blink back to awareness. You nod jerkily and step back. "Have to leave now to get there before dark." He explains in a rushed huff. You blink as you remember how time works.

"Right. Yeah, right. Okay. Okay." Straightening to attention you yank off the cardigan you wore for the air conditioning at work, leaving you in a tank top and ready to be productive. Focus on not-dick.

Diego shoves your favorite notepad in your face so you can see your packing list and not him. The distraction works. He has checked off every item in each categorized list but left the strike through action for your completion. You lower the notepad until you can make eye contact with him and intensely whisper, "You know I fuckin' love you, right?"  

He laughs so hard he has to sit down on the bed.

You go through every bag, touching each item and crossing it off your list one at a time. He did it. Everything but you.

"You know I don't need TMP, right?"

"Why?" He squints up at you from where he lounges across your bed. 

Your face heats up and you clear your throat. "Well, its, I'm. I have, uh, you. So I don't need anything else." The realization of how true that is in every sense gives both of you pause.

Diego surges upright to cup your face and bonk your foreheads together just a little too hard. You giggle and he huffs. 

"Mi amor…" he sighs for you, eyes closing in pleasure. You 'mmmmm' in response. Then his eyes snap open and he growls an order, "Get changed so we can go!" And punctuates it with a stinging slap to your ass.

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

You spend the flight with your face pressed to the window, vibrating in excitement, except for a brief intermission of seven orgasms in the bathroom.

The unknown third man is Joey, Bastian's boyfriend. Joey is even quieter than Bastian and just as cute. They're not overly demonstrative but clearly comfortable moving around each other. Joey works in "Packaging" and does an admirable job of ignoring his cartel drug lord boss being snuggly. Julio naps. 

The customs agent at the Cancun airport looks you up and down with wide eyes but stamps your passport with no questions. Its a five hour drive to Xcalak but Diego is adamant it can be done in three. You give him an eyebrow question which he dismisses with a vague wave, "They paved the road all the way to the southern border last year."

Uhh, they what now? You understand soon enough. The drive drastically changes outside of Cancun. The scenery is both beautiful and heartbreaking. There are occasional mansions with armed guards, high fences, and SUVs like your own current ride. Mostly though, its shacks and people on foot or riding bicycles, weaving to avoid stray dogs and huge iguanas. Could I handle this as my daily reality?

The first time the road sidles right up to the ocean you have a small meltdown.

 "Is that what I think it is?" Your soft whisper is accompanied by a shaking hand pointing to the left. Diego, crammed into the middle of the backseat between yourself and Julio so you could have an unobstructed view, indicates an order for Bastian to pull over. He reaches across you and pops open your door. You slide out with his hand on your lower back and take about a dozen steps to the lapping water. Diego appears to your right, watching you intently.

 "Its gre-e-e-en!" Your stuttering squeal is accompanied by happy tears and you fling yourself into Diego with joy. He laughs at you, but hugs you back just as tightly.

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

The first week passes in a blur of amazing food, warm green sea, fruity drinks, and shirtless wet Diego. And so many orgasms that you can't keep count. Diego is all over you non-stop, more than he ever has been before (Astonishingly). Its incredible and you feel like the only person in the world. If he's not molesting you then he is at least touching you; keeping you in his lap, holding your hand, cuddling and petting and snuggling like a man obsessed. 

You love it. You love him. You love this life.

On Saturday he lets you lead him through the tiny town, your Spanish improving by leaps and bounds as you try to navigate the streets and alleys and shops. The four years of high school Spanish actually prove useful as you manage to complete a purchase all by yourself. Your playful mock smugness evaporates under the blazing desire in his eyes. 

He drags you back to the casita in a much shorter and more direct route than you took upon earlier departure. You're marched directly to the bed and he puts one massive hand in the middle of your chest to gently push you down onto your back. There is something different about this, something important in his eyes. Your voice is high and soft, "Diego?"

He climbs up between your legs and leans down to kiss you senseless. It goes on forever; soft lips, scratchy beard, silky tongue, and nothing but the taste of Diego. Your moans and sighs are mixed together, there are moments when you can't tell who is making what noise. His hands are shaking as he strokes every inch of newly bared and sunburnt sensitive skin while undressing you. 

It takes repeated attempts, but you finally get him naked, too. The sight never fails to take your breath away. All that soft, and now freshly tanned, skin is like velvet to your touch. You're mesmerized by his muscles flexing and then evening out as he moves above you. He finally gets your linen pants untangled off your left foot and flings them across the room with unnecessary force. Your soft peals of laughter light up his face and it brings tears to your eyes. You reach a hand out to him, "Diego. Baby."

He comes up over you, threading fingers into your hair, kissing you slowly and thoroughly. You can feel him against you, fire hot and mouth wateringly hard, but he makes no move to take you. Your eyes open in hazy confusion as the kiss ends. Diego is watching your face, blinking back tears. 

He is holding your head still, hands like steel. Whatever this is, he needs it. And you want to give him everything he needs. Forever.

You're captured by his eyes, bottomless, soulful, and hungry. His raspy voice is soft and trembling with desire. "I love you, Bicki. I want everything. Forever, Princess?" 

Your chest compresses and your heart implodes. Scalding tears escape when you blink and you're nodding before you even know it. "Yes, Diego. Yes, baby, I'm yours." 

Your back arches off the bed as he comes home and brings you with him.

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

You wake up crushed under Diego. The sun is still up so you might be able to talk him into going out for dinner. You rub your cheek on the huge bicep doubling as your pillow and Diego sighs directly into your ear from where he is spooned up behind you. Oh yeah, we should have done this waaaay sooner.

He nuzzles your neck just to incite squirmy giggles and you don't even fight it. "I have something for you, Princess. Stay here." He pulls away and you whine about the loss of your pillow. His low chuckle burns you alive with want. "Stay like that. Do not move." You obey while you listen to him rummage around behind you.

He comes around to your side of the bed, still completely and unabashedly nude. Hell. Fucking. Yes. You love it. He hands your glasses over and you slide them on to take in the now high definition view of naked Murder Panther. The view disappears as he kneels down next to the bed so you're on eye level. His expression is very peculiar. 

His hands slowly come up to reveal a small box of black velvet. Time slows to a halt as he opens the box and presents it to you. 

Inside is a ring. Gleaming in platinum and sparkling with three tastefully large princess cut diamonds. 

Its an engagement ring.

Diego is proposing. 

He swallows hard and rumbles gruffly, "Now remember, you already said y--"

You cut him off with a shriek. "YES! YESYESYES!!"

In the time it takes him to blink twice with surprise you're on him. Arms around his neck, you throw yourself into his lap. He topples backwards and you ride him to the floor, already bawling hysterically. 

He stares up at you in shock as you nod furiously and cry all over him. "Princess. You… you are certain?" If this were any other time you would be howling with laughter at his huge eyes and lax jaw. 

Your answer is stuttery but determined. "Y-y-yeah. Put it-t-t-t on me already!" 

He laughs in delight at your order and the imperious presentation of your shaking left hand. The ring glides on easily, a perfect fit. It gleams up at you blindingly. After a moment of admiration you lace your fingers with his and sigh at the union. His other hand comes up to roughly brush away your tears. "I know you do not like labels so much… but, you will be my, my married... Person. Thing?" 

You stroke his bearded cheek in return, thumb lingering on that dimple. With a hard gulp you dive in head first. Fuck it.

"Yes, Diego. I will be your wife."

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

The next time you wake it is dark out. You reach for a phone on the nightstand to your left and jump when you find one with a loud crack. Diego pops upright behind you, instantly on high alert. "Princess?" He hisses while covering your body with his own.

You gigglesnort, then meekly answer him, "I forgot about the ring and whacked a phone. Everything's okay, baby."

He sighs so deeply that his breath ruffles your hair. "Jesus fucking christ, woman. You are a menace."  He flops down on top of you and snuggles back into your warmth. 

You reach back with your left hand and grope blindly for his face. He licks your fingers as soon as they're in reach and you stuff them into his mouth as retaliation. He just sucks languidly. 

"Mmmmmm, I'm your menace, baby. And I have to pee." He nips your fingers but rolls over to free you. You slide out of the bed and stretch your arms high while arching your back. Diego groans painfully. "What?"

Diego rises to all fours on the bed while the sheet slithers off of him. "You forget that other people can see without glasses, huh?" You cock your head and realize that you have a shadow.

It's a full moon. And I just stretched naked in front of a sliding glass door. "Oh. Huh. I guess I do forget. Oops. I'll be sure to keep that in mind now." Your seemingly tame answer is directly contradicted by the exaggerated roll of your hips that makes your butt bounce when you walk off. 

"Fucking menace, woman." Diego growls as you push the bathroom door shut with a trill of laughter.

You never do go back to bed but you do wind up on the beach in front of the casita to watch the sunrise. Julio finds you both snuggled together late the next morning, still asleep on the covered daybed under the palms while the rising tide comes ever closer. At least Julio has the decency to cover your bare ass with a beach towel.

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

By the time you think to check your phone gallery you have… 1,792 pictures. WHAT THE FUCK. 

You scroll through the pics, there are a lot you do not remember taking. Was I that drunk or did Diego take some of these? One is a close up of your ass from below wearing a string bikini, I knew I wasn't that drunk. The next pic is Diego asleep on a lounge chair, one arm curled up above his head, muscles glistening in the sun, and swim trunks so low on his hips that it's almost obscene. Immediately following that is the same pic but with your own face photobombing about three inches away from the camera and giving a thumbs up with your left hand so your engagement ring is prominently visible. Oh yeah, I remember that one. 

There are videos, too. The first one is Diego making lewd comments while you twerk in the ocean for about ten seconds. Okay, that's par for the course with us. Next is you successfully backflipping off of Diego's shoulders into the green water to everyone freaking out. Shit, even I'm impressed with myself. After that is video of you gagging through a dish of octopus at some restaurant. Both of you are clearly visible in the shot so Julio must have had the phone. Betrayal. 

There are tens of dozens of the two of you in various poses and outfits, both disgustingly happy and blatantly in love. There's even a role reversal shot of Diego sprawled across your lap, one enormous arm wrapped around your neck and his knees over your own arm while you grimace and he laughs hysterically. The table to your right is covered in empty bottles and mostly finished drinks. An entire subsection depicts you asleep like you have a stalker. You count no less than 29 of you two trying on increasingly ridiculous hats in random stores.

You can't even keep count of all the close ups of a smoldering Murder Panther. You feel no guilt.  Aren't you supposed to be ridiculously attracted to your fiancé??

Fiancé.

You have a fiancé. Your fiancé is Diego. You are engaged to Diego Rafael Jimenez. 

I have to explain this ring to everyone. They'll have questions about him. People will want pictures. How do I explain what he does?? Oh my god, there's no closet here. I have to… find somewhere. And I can't I can't. Its-

Your head jerks upright when something touches your hair. Its Diego. Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he has unfurled a sheet over you to block out everything, and he waits there, watching you. Before you realize it your hands are reaching for his shoulders, just the feel of him, warm and solid under your hands, calms you. 

Slowly, his right hand comes up to cover your left. "No closet, Princess." His huge fingers grip yours tightly. You nod a little. He just watches you, eyes guarded. 

"Ask. Go ahead." You mutter. You can tell from his posture that he is uneasy, apprehensive. 

He locks eyes with you and his gaze is intense. He curls all of his fingers around your left ring finger. "Still yes?" 

The fear in his eyes breaks your heart. Your voice is shaky but determined, "No. You can't get rid of me. I'm your problem now, baby."  His expression would make a meeker woman cower in fear, you laugh weakly. 

He settles down on the tile floor in front of you, with the sheet over both of you. Its like four in the afternoon and I am sharing a blanket fort with my cartel boss fiancé while on vacation in Mexico. What even is my life? His elbows are on his knees, chin in hand. He studies you for a minute, you stare right back. He raises one eyebrow and you sigh in capitulation. 

"I don't know how to just be happy. I suck at it."  You shrug but reach for his face. Diego nuzzles into your hand while you stroke your thumb over his beard. 

"Habby isz nawt a berb." He slurs into your palm with a soft kiss.

The epiphany is like a cinder block to the brain. 

He's right. I don't have to 'do' anything. I'm happy right now. I've been happy every time I'm with him. And no one had to exert any effort.

People can define themselves. People can define their relationships. Why can't they define their own normal? I can make my own rules. Especially with someone like Diego as my partner.

His one eyebrow slowly rises as he watches your thoughts play out across your face. "You back?" He asks with a hidden smirk, you know its there from the way his eyes crinkle with laugh lines.

"Yup!" Is your decisive answer. Diego licks your palm. "I got better places you can lick, baby." You answer his smirk with a waggling eyebrow. 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of play wrestling and inappropriate noises.

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

You do, in fact, go on a safari. Of sorts. Tours of ruins and jungle and cenotes, lots of side quests because the both of you are easily distracted by pretty colors. You probably added another thousand pictures of various palm trees to your gallery. The hat makes multiple appearances. 

Diego has to ship a crate home to New York because he bought you too many souvenirs. You laugh and tease him when he wants to pick out things for your middle sister and niece, until you hear his logic. 

"They were nice to me." He murmurs with a little half-shrug, "It was like being in a real family for a little bit." He studies the bins of painted shells on display in the little store with way too much focus.

You spend a moment deliberating before you decide to reach out and touch his elbow.

 "Hey," your soft voice brings his gaze your way momentarily before he goes back to ceramic turtle magnets. You take his hand with your own right and rest your left hand on his chest. Diego looks down where your ring glints in the light, then up to your face. "You know you're going to be part of that 'real' family, right?"

Diego's boyish little smile is heartbreakingly adorable. 

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

The flight home is much shorter than you want it to be and you spend most of it asleep on Diego. At one point you wake up to see Bastian and Joey cuddled up together napping. When you look up from where your head is resting in Diego's lap he is already looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"What?" You whisper softly. You stifle a yawn and blink repeatedly. 

Diego strokes one big hand over your hair and grips your jaw firmly. With a huge toothy grin he answers, "Mine." 

"Uh huh. How many times you need me to say yes, baby?" You smirk up at him with an arched brow. He seems to be reveling in hearing you readily admit your commitment to him.

He considers your question carefully while his other hand trails down the front of your body under a blanket. I don't remember having a blanket earlier. Finally, Diego settles on "Every day. At least seven times. Seven is a good number, right Princess?" 

Your body jerks as his fingers press between your thighs with steady determination. Your eyes flick over to Bastian and Joey, still out cold. You make a show of wiggling around to get comfortable, and, surprisingly, that involves spreading your legs. "Yessss." You hiss up at him.

Julio reclines his seat and exaggeratedly covers his face with a new hat. 

Seven is a very good number.

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

Your first day back to work is a circus. You don't think twice about your normal greeting as you enter the office suite. You swipe your badge with your right hand and pop the door, then wave 'hi' to everyone. Like usual. With your left hand. 

There is an excessive amount of squealing that makes you second guess going into a female dominated field. The whole day is a wash because you have a steady stream of people passing through your cubicle. You're glad you had the forethought to curate a photo album of appropriate images to show your coworkers despite Diego's repeated attempts to sneak a dick pic in there somewhere. You most definitely included the glistening swim trunks lounge chair picture. Squealing intensifies.

Everyone comments on the hat and you're forced to tell the story of the hat. How you once told Diego that you wanted to see palm trees, 'But like, in the wild.' And Diego had laughed so hard that he fell off the bed only to pop back up wheezing about a 'Palm Tree Safari' until you smacked him in the face with a pillow. Your coworkers think it is just disgustingly adorable that he never let you live that down. 

Your coworkers have questions:

When is the wedding? 

Where are you having it?

What kind of dress do you want?

What are your colors?

Are you going to do flowers?

What about the cake?

Who is your maid of honor?

How did your family take the news?

What about his family?

Are you going to New York?

Will you take his name?

Oh shit. I forgot about the whole 'wedding' part of this.

[genuflectx]

4th Dimensional Being/OC - CH3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 

Full Length: 19,543 Chapter Length:  2,218

Main Themes: Other dimensions, tentacles, confinement, nsfw Other Warnings: politics,  "godly" behaviors, vomit, feeling of loss of autonomy, comparison to a toy

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

The next chapter gets nasty...

The 4DB Chapter 3: The Virus

They were all chattering like cicadas, a loud distant drone in the back of her head. Chris missed her phone. She missed Vincent. She even missed Mildred's occasional snarky comment. Instead she was here, the beginnings of a headache blooming, listening to the test subjects debate the pros and cons of their situation. Chris absently and quietly picked at her food.

John was grumpy. He complained that he shouldn't even be here. “Whatever this thing is it's keeping me from my job,” but he secretly thought that perhaps he'd be revered for his 'sacrifice,' assuming he was allowed to even talk about it after it ended.

“What do you do again?” Asked Cole at Chris’s side smartly.

John became red in the face but kept his composure. “Very funny.”

Aaron, nearly slumped over the cold metal table, shrugged and snorted. “Why's a ~mystical being~ need any of us anywho? A security guard, an energy-guy, a mayor, a fucking clerk for God's sake,” he gestured towards Chris.

“Well I know why he'd want me!” Boasted Nathan. “Must of saw me on the field and thought wow, I need him in my soon-to-be-cult!” His laugh was so loud. John sneered when he elbowed him.

The conversation just felt so shallow. Chris should have opted to sit with her roommate Morgan, but she had looked out of it ever since she'd first spoken with Gabriel the day before.

“So uh, what did it say to you guys?” Cole changed the subject suddenly.

Chris looked up, glancing around. Some of the men looked rather uncomfortable.

“Fucker wanted me to describe war to him,” Nathan answered quickly, his expression confused but vaguely amused. “Apparently they've had no wars. Not one. I think he's a liar, what a load of shit.”

John shrugged, leaning back a bit. “I was asked about my job. It was very tame.”

“Hey Chris, what did it ask you?” Cole nudged her from her thoughts.

The security guard chuckled. “How to send a letter?”

She ignored him. God, some of these guys were obnoxious. “It asked me about our government and how it treated me,” she shrugged, looking back at her food.

“I wonder what the eggheads will do with those recordings,” Nathan interjected. “Not like they can hear the bastard. It'll just be a bunch of government losers ranting about their jobs. Oh, and then me having to explain every damn World War like I was a school teacher. Whatever that thing is... it knows nothing about us.”

At least Chris could agree with that.

The experiments continued. The scientists began to fill out; the building became more abuzz with life than it had at the start. Suddenly the subjects felt surrounded. There was always some straight-laced woman or expressionless man beside them. Tailor, Sparrow, Rock, Dove, they all came with some codename. And, even in the reports of which the subjects could not access, Chris and her comrades were coded as well. Like they were trying to hide who they were, what they were doing, to keep their discoveries a secret from the rest of the world.

Regardless, a week had gone by and the only thing they'd discovered was that the 4DB was communicating directly inside of the subjects' heads. They tried to figure out a way to at least record the brain readings of the subjects' during sessions, and indeed found ample evidence that the auditory system was being stimulated. It was telepathy. Unfortunately they were having difficulty figuring out how to translate the brain's signals into actual words. They would have to stick with word of mouth.

“Have you learned anything about us?” Chris asked, walking around the pink square casually.

“Much. You are each individuals, like us. However, you are perhaps more individually inclined than I estimated,” they admitted curiously.

“I hope that helps you re-consider exterminating us. Cause... ya know, I sorta wanna live.”

Gabriel paused. “All things want to live. Even a virus wants to live.”

She scrunched her brows, angry. “We are not a virus, Gabriel. Grow up.”

“...No, I suppose you are not.” Gabriel went quiet for a while.

Chris calmed a bit and finished her circle. She leaned against the wall. “I wish I could go back home. I miss my friends. The people here- they're... I don't know. Not my sort. I'm tired.”

That was almost enough to make Gabriel feel some guilt, but if they had not plucked Chris from her home they'd have plucked someone else. “I do see the way you look.”

She rose a brow, confused. “Huh? What's that supposed to mean?”

“The way you look. When they speak.”

For a moment she was beside herself, believing they were saying some sort of gibberish. But then it clicked. Her brows shot up and her head went light. “You watch us when we're not in the chamber?”

“Of course I do. I am not confined to one spot,” they shook their heads.

She paled. Then she reddened. “Nooo no no, do you...” her voice got quiet. “...see us when we... pee? And shower?”

Apparently that was funny because they laughed strangely. “Yes. Now I see you are embarrassed. Do not be embarrassed, for I can see any part of you at any time if I wished. I can see all your organs. Like now, your heart has sped up.”

Chris placed her hand to her heart as if she could hide it. It was sort of cute. “Y-yeah? Well can you see I'm going to vomit?”

They looked to the right, down the vague rivers of time. “Maybe. A long, long time from now.”

She sighed, sort of sick. “Well Gabriel, nice knowin' ya. I'm out for the day.” Chris absconded from the chamber five minutes early. The scientists were not pleased.

As days ticked on Chris could see how the results of these studies were wearing away at the morale of the scientists. Some were exhausted, some were disappointed, some were scared and angry. They grew impatient with the 4DB. It still only spoke to them to issue commands. Then, one day, when a particularly irritable scientist got cocky, the 4DB actually laughed and shoved them. Right in front of their colleagues. None of the subjects saw it, but of course they heard about it through the grape vine.

The scientists wanted to stop sending the subjects into the chamber to test the limits of the 4DBs relationship with the lab. However, too many feared some retaliation so such a test never came to fruition. Instead, they spitefully released one lesser subject's contracts and then started increasing the amount of time the remaining subjects would spend with the scientists. Gale began to meet with Chris once a day, though in a much more comfortable room than the one they'd first conversed in.

“How have you settled in?” Gale asked, leaning comfortably in her chair and crossing her long legs. “A week and a half far from home... you must miss your friends.”

At this point she was almost too nervous to voice her true feelings. “Yeah, it feels more like a month,” she answered instead, uncomfortable.

Gale nodded and drummed her fingers on the table between them, observing Chris. She changed the subject masterfully. “You know, your recordings are the most interesting.”

That made Chris perk up, a bit of adrenaline pushing into her veins. “What do you mean?”

The other smirked, entertained. “You're the only subject so far who sounds almost friendly with the 4DB. And don't think we didn't notice you named it, too.”

Chris didn't want to admit that hearing that made her feeling sort of... special. “I didn't know you listened to the recordings,” her cheeks tinted.

“Of course! And transcribe as well,” Gale explained. “You call it Gabriel. Like before it made its presence known to us, like Gabriel's Children. The other subjects... well. Gabriel seems to get something from them that we just don't.”

Chris glanced down at her hand fidgeting in her lap, embarrassed.

“But wow, does it talk to you. Maybe it's your time in retail. You just have a way with small talk,” she began to laugh. “So Chris, I have a proposal for you.”

She lifted her eyes. “Um... y-yeah?”

Gale leaned forward, face friendly and tone pleasant, but Chris could feel the strange aura emanating from her piercing eyes. “Get closer to it. Make it friendly. It obviously favors you and we need that. We are more then well aware- based off your recordings and reports- that the fate of the world, no, maybe the whole solar system, depends on Gabriel's opinion-”

“Well there are more than one 4DB,” you interrupted.

She looked only slightly aggravated at the interruption, then continued. “-And Gabriel's opinion might just fall on its opinion of you. Try to get it to talk to us more naturally. Not just commands. It's not working with us like we'd like. And in return? You'll get cell phone access again,” she winked. “Have some time to chat with those friends you miss so much.”

Chris agreed. That wouldn't be so hard. All she had to do was keep doing what she was doing. The world would learn more, she would get her cell phone back, and maybe with some luck Gabriel wouldn't vote to destroy the Earth.

But then, during the next session in the chamber with the pink square, she found a tense heaviness in the air like standing underwater.

“I heard your conversation,” Gabriel said immediately, emotionless.

Shocked and anxious, Chris tried to play it off as nothing. “That was just... it was just-”

Gabriel cut her off. “Quiet. You miss your human friends.”

She was uncertain if she was allowed to reply or not, stunned. Instead she just nodded stiffly and crossed her arms.

“And if I comply by being more 'cooperative' with your knowledge keepers they will allow you to speak with these friends,” they went on. After a pause they added: “I am indifferent to your plight.”

When Gabriel said nothing else Chris took it as her cue to respond. She was quiet, as if trying not to be picked up by the small microphone clipped to her shirt. “I... nothing would change. All we have to do is talk. Just like before. That's all they really want.”

“We shall see,” Gabriel said plainly.

The problem was that their plan began to work, despite Gabriel being aware of it. Though they didn't necessarily speak directly to the scientists they did grow warmer to Chris. Chris had a way about her that just made Gabriel so... interested in her. She didn't make cutting remarks (as if that would have hurt anyways), she didn't refuse to answer their questions, and she didn't make light of the atrocities of her country. She just talked. Like speaking with Gabriel was the most natural thing in the world. They didn't quite mind the nick-name anymore either, if they were honest. They hated that they were warm with Chris.

Gale was 'happy' the two of them were still getting along. Chris didn't tell her Gabriel knew about the plan, but they obviously suspected it. Everyday the scientist looked a little more intense. Gale continued to drill it into Chris's head to get Gabriel speaking with the scientists. Was it more cooperative today? No. How about now? No. Gale held back her irritation. At the end of each daily session she was led to her room feeling uncomfortable and alone. Chris still hadn't gotten her cell phone back. Her friends probably thought she was dead.

“Has it really been three weeks since this whole thing started?” Chris sighed, sitting on the cold floor. She fiddled with the rim of her shirt's neck, knowing full well that would cause sound disturbance in the recording. She'd get a mouthful about that.

Gabriel, who was sitting comfortably beyond the barrier, twirled their tentacles around one another absently. “For you.”

Chris nodded. She was quiet a moment. “Then how long is three weeks in your dimension?”

“For you it is sixty seconds to a minute, sixty minutes to an hour, twenty-four hours to a day, seven days to a week. For me it is... time functions differently,” they tried to explain. “I've only met you a few 'days' ago.”

That was hard for her to wrap her head around. “And are you really learning by doing this? Keeping us here in a box? Just talking?”

“Yes,” they replied simply.

They really were. They not only listened to word-of-mouth, they saw into the deep wrinkles of the subjects' brains, saw their bodily chemistry rise and fall. They watched for reactions to key words, how the subjects interacted with one another and their human 'captors.'

Chris shrugged, pursing her lips. She didn't seem to believe them. “Ooookay. Ya know this could go a lot faster if you also spoke to the scientists.” Of course they both knew what Chris was trying to do.

“So eager to hear your judgment.”

She shrugged again, somehow feeling rather fond of Gabriel in that moment. “Nah... just to hear my friends' voices again.”

Soon, Gabriel automatically thought, surprising themself.

Chapters 4, 5, and the epilogue will remain Patron-only content! However, eventually the full story will be edited more and added to Gumroad as an e-book as well. So if you’d like to get to the nsfw or read the rest, check out NSFWGenuflect on Patreon or wait for the Gumroad release :}

[satoruvt]

for now; forever -- teaser

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 1316 (full fic is ~9k!!)

genre → mostly fluff? a solid amount of angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to... something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely. 

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → AHHHH!!!! so excited to finally tell yall abt this ive been working on it for about a month now <33 the teaser is just like an honestly solid section of the fic itself, so. idk yeah!!!! i’m very excited i loved working on this i still have some editing to go but the full thing will be out soon <333 hope you enjoy!! let me know what u thought!!!!

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors don’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed, what was best for you. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

[tomeandflickcorner]

Falcon and Winter Soldier Episode 3- My Thoughts

Can’t believe we’re already halfway through this show!

As was set up in the last episode, Bucky decides to head to a prison in Germany, where Zemo is being held for the crimes he committed during Civil War. Again, while I did understand why he was doing this, considering Zemo was the only real lead they had in determining how the Flag Smashers got their hands on the Super Serum, I still didn’t really like the idea.  Because this was the guy who framed Bucky for the murder of King T’Chaka and then forced Bucky to undergo even more trauma by activating his Winter Solder programing.  And my dislike for Zemo increased even more when the first thing he did upon seeing Bucky outside his cell was recite the Winter Soldier Activation Words.  Ugh, this guy is such a scumbag!  I am so confused why some people seem to be talking about how funny Zemo was in this episode.  I just don’t get it!

Anyway, I guess Zemo said he’d only assist Bucky and Sam in solving the mystery if Bucky helped him escape from prison.  And Bucky, out of desperation, agrees to this?  Yeah, I was with Sam on this one, as he only finds out about this plan after the fact and understandably freaks out when he sees Zemo waltzing up disguised as a security guard.  Because while the jail break sequence was interesting, I still don’t trust Zemo in the slightest.  But I guess it’s too late now.  So the three of them travel to this island called Madripoor, which I guess is like a haven for criminal masterminds, so they can infiltrate some nightclub in order to talk to a woman named Selby.  Because Selby can apparently give them the information they need.  And Zemo can arrange all of this because he turns out to be super rich. Yeah, okay.

From here on in, the episode is pretty much a spy film.  Because Sam has to go into the Madripoor nightclub mascaraing as some other guy called Smiling Tiger.  (Side note, I hope that snake that got sliced open to make that drink was already dead.)  The trio eventually get an audience with this Selby person, but my skin is crawling over the way they did it.  Because Zemo has Bucky pretend to be the brainwashed Winter Soldier again as an intimidation technique. And then offers to gift him to Selby, as if Bucky was simply a piece of property.  And while Bucky does a passible job of pretending he’s still the Winter Soldier, it must have been torture for him to pretend to be Hydra’s brainwashed assassin again.  Especially since we all know how guilty he feels for all of that.  They even bring up his book filled with the names of people he’d wronged.  Which turns out to be the exact same book Steve was using to keep track of everything he needed to adjust to being in a different time after being thawed from the ice.  Which just hits you with even more feels.  Still, I’m glad that at least Sam seems to be recognizing that, as he frequently takes the time to check on how Bucky’s holding up.  It’s nice that the writers haven’t completly forgotten that Sam used to be a therapist himself.  (Hey, maybe Sam can become Bucky’s new therapist instead of that crummy government-issued one.  Or is it a violation of the code of ethics to offer therapy to someone you know personally?)

Unfortunately, just as Selby gives them the information they came for- that the mysterious Power Broker hired former Hydra scientist Dr. Nagel to recreated the Super Serum- their cover is blown because Sam got an ill-timed call from his sister, Sarah.  (Seriously, Sam!  You didn’t think to put your phone on mute?  That’s the first rule of going undercover!)  Out of nowhere, Selby is shot dead by an unseen assassin, and Bucky, Sam and Zemo have to make a run for it, particularly after a bounty is placed on their heads for Selby’s death.  Still, they’re rescued by a surprise appearance of Sharon Carter.  Who has been living there since the events of Civil War.  Strangely enough, nobody remembered to help get her a government issued pardon.  Which doesn’t make a lot of sense.  But that revelation does lead to Sam feeling even more disillusioned.  First it was him learning how Isaiah got the short end of the stick, and now this.  Sam now is thinking maybe the Shield should simply be destroyed because of how much trouble its caused.  Though I don’t think it’s possible to destroy the Shield.  Wasn’t the Shield made of Vibranium or something equally as indestructible?  Still, this might be a good thing.  Because Sam is seeing how many people ended up getting tossed aside and overlooked.  Which could be what inspires him to take back the mantle of Captain America, in order to help give a voice to those people.

Anyway, with Sharon’s help, Bucky, Sam and Zemo find Dr. Nagal’s lab, which is hidden in a shipyard somewhere.  Upon interrogating Dr. Nagal, we learn that, after Hydra was eliminated, Dr. Nagal was hired by the CIA to continue his work in recreating the Super Serum.  But then, Dr. Nagal got dusted in the Snap.  When he came back, he picked up where he left off and managed to create 20 vials of Super Serum.  Admittedly, I might be getting some of the details here wrong, but this episode had a lot of exposition to go through. But the important thing is that those vials got stolen by Karli.  Which means there might be a whole mess of Super Soldiers out there right now.  But before Dr. Nagal could reveal anything further, Zemo shoots him dead out of the blue.  Why, I’m not entirely sure, but this is Zemo.  Like I mentioned before, I don’t trust him in the slightest.  And I wouldn’t be shocked if he ends up backstabbing Sam and Bucky in some way before the show is over.  In any event, after Dr. Nagal gets killed off, there’s a sudden action sequence, with Sharon, Sam and Bucky trying to fend off a bunch of armed goons.  Wasn’t very clear if they were with the people who had currently hired Dr. Nagal after the Reverse Snap or if they were bounty hunters looking for Selby’s killer.  Eventually, Zemo manages to obtain a getaway car, and he drives off with Sam and Bucky.  Sharon, on the other hand, chooses to stay behind, with Sam promising her that he’ll make sure she gets a full pardon for her actions in Civil War once they get back to the US.  But after they drive off, Sharon meets up with some other unnamed woman.  So I have no idea what Sharon is up to right now.  Did she have anything to do with Selby’s death?  Is she in league with this mysterious Power Broker? It’s not clear at the moment. Either way, I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of her.

The episode ends with Bucky, Sam and Zemo trying to figure out the next step.  But Bucky steps away when he spots a few black beads affixed to the side of a building.  He clearly recognizes these black beads as Kimoyo beads, because he calls out to someone once he’s alone.  And seems unsurprised when a member of the Dora Milaje appears in front of him, stating that she’s there for Zemo.  Apparently, that’s Ayo, Okoye’s second-in-command.  So we’re getting the Wakandans involved now!  That’ll be fun.  Particularly since it’s doubtful they forgot that Zemo was responsible for the death of King T’Chaka.  I’m wondering if we’ll get a cameo of Shuri.  Or, on a more sobering note, get a hint about what the MCU will do in regards to T’Challa.  In any event, I’m excited to see the Wakandans.

Meanwhile, we got John Walker going around, further cementing how unlikable he is.  Because he ends up storming into some office building somewhere because the Flag Smashers were seen operating out of there.  Or something to that effect.  The main issue is they weren’t even in America at this point.  Are the Accords still in effect?  I don’t even know! But even if they aren’t, the fact that John Walker is pretty much throwing his weight around like this only further proves he’s not worthy to call himself Captain America.  (Just saying, Steve would never shove some guy against a wall and demand respect just because of who he is.)  Oh, and it gets better.  When he gets word that Bucky and Sam might have been responsible for Zemo escaping from jail, his attitude seems to have sinister undertones of ‘if I can prove those two are criminals, the methods I used to get that proof doesn’t matter.’  Oh, where do I begin?  That kind of attitude is extremely problematic, as it’s teetering dangerously close to ‘I can ignore people’s rights whenever it suits my needs’ territory.  And it’s particularly uncomfortable when you remember people were clearly recording Bucky’s earlier actions on Madripoor on their phones, when he had to beat up this guy to sell his Winter Soldier act.  Needless to say, I’m really scared for Bucky and Sam right now.

Then there’s the stuff with the Flag Smashers.  I guess there was this organization called the Global Repatriation Council (GRC for short) that was set up after the people who got dusted returned with the Reverse Snap, which was designed to help those un-dusted people adjust to the new world and get back on their feet.  But this is where things get a little sketchy.  I think the implication is that they’re not distributing the supplies fairly, or that this organization is favoring the un-dusted people while ignoring the needs of the people who remained after the Snap?  Because after who I think was supposed to be Karli’s mother dies from an illness(?), Karli leads the Flag Smashers in breaking into a GRC storage facility in Lithuania and making off with the supplies they were storing there.  And then she blows up the building.  With people still inside.  Because her attitude seems to be this will be the only way to get the government’s attention or something along those lines.  Yeah, this is where Karli started to lose my support.  Because while I think I can understand what their motivation is, considering it seems to be implied that world governments are not being fair and equal in regards of helping everyone adjust to the Reverse Snap, once you start killing people, that’s where you make it easy for your enemies to villainize you in the eyes of the general public. At this point, I don’t know how I feel about Karli.

[rglozwriter]

FNAF Swap AU: Mari!Mike Origins

Inspired by @official-michael-afton and @jaes-fnaftrash‘s fnaf roleswap au’s, I decided to write what was supposed to be a short story of about 1,000 words. Guys, I finished it at over 5,000 words! I haven’t written a story that long in forever. :)

So here’s a story about the origins of Marionette!Michael Afton, and Swap!Henry and Swap!William. Just a heads up because I know some people don’t like stories like this, Henry is the murderous asshole in this story, William is not. I know not everyone likes that, so if you don’t than please don’t read this story.

Henry throws his wrench on the worktable, his frustrations reaching a near breaking point. His newest creation is powered down on the table, the thrown wrench jostling it for only a second.

The creation, or what he calls the Marionette, can almost be confused for a human. Of course, most people would be put off by the purple skin tone and face paint, but Henry hopes that the Marionette’s kind and calm persona that he installs would squash people’s unease of it. Michael and Charlie think it’s good, and even William has already talked about bringing it into the diner.

But it’s not perfect. His creation is still missing something to make it truly human. It infuriates him to no end. It’s like the solution is right there but he cannot obtain it. He stalks out of the room, not wanting to even spare his failure another glance.

His home is empty once he comes up from the basement, and it takes him a few seconds to remember that Charlie went over to the Afton’s house down the street after finishing her homework. She has been spending less and less time at home after Sammy’s “mysterious accident” with one of William's inventions in the basement. Not that he can blame her.

He checks the time, six in the evening, at this time they should be done making dinner. He sighs and goes to grab his boots beside the front door. Hopefully, they won’t mind one more mouth to feed.

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

The rain comes down hard onto his car as Henry drives through the town. It’s a Saturday so of course, Charlie wanted to go back to the Aftons to play with Elizabeth. After driving her to the house due to the rain, he didn’t feel like driving back home. 

The talk with William last night is still running through his head. Remnant, the idea they discovered in college. The thing that gives humans life, almost like a soul. He feels like crying, the one thing to make his creations perfect and he cannot obtain it.

The rain starts to come down harder, and Henry curses. It’s already almost pitch black outside thanks to the storm, and it’s only three in the afternoon. It’s when he drives past Fredbear Diner that he spots a peculiar sight from the lights given by the windows. 

Standing outside in the alleyway is a boy wearing a purple shirt and a green bracelet. Michael Afton, William’s eldest son. Henry’s not sure how long he’s been in the pouring rain, but he’s already soaked. He’s pounding on the window of the diner, and Henry cannot tell if it’s tears or rain pouring down his face.

He pulls into the parking lot and just watches Michael. The boy screams out for someone to open the door and let him in. Probably a cruel prank then. That’s when the thought enters his head.

“You cannot create remnant, so why not take it?” It says.

And the thing is, he considers it. Most people would immediately drive away, or at the very least throw that thought away. But Henry, he’s desperate for his dream of a perfect creation, so he decides to entertain it.

Mike has the kind of personality that he wants the Marionette to have. He’s smart, bright, and thanks to the discipline from William he can be polite when he needs to be. Besides, William has two other children, so surely he wouldn’t mind losing one?

His mind made up, Henry leaves his car. Careful to not alert the boy, who’s now huddled under the window, his knees pulled to his chest as he sobs in his arms. Henry knows he doesn’t have much time before someone comes along so he snatches the boy’s arm and pulls Mike up to his feet before starting to drag him to his car.

It takes Mike a few seconds to process what is happening, but once he does he tries to pull out of the grip around his arm, even trying to use his other hand to pry out. All it does is cause Henry to grasp tighter.

They reach the car, and Henry flings open the passenger door before throwing Michael on the seat. He frantically looks around the interior, a look of recognition crosses his features. He’s been in his car before of course. Michael finally gets a good look at Henry’s face.

“Uncle Henry…?” He says, the confusion clear in his voice. Henry just closes the door before getting into the driver's seat.

“Put on your seatbelt.”

Mike listens…

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

Henry stares down at the dying boy. The blood pools from under him as the stab wound on his chest continues to gush the liquid all over the purple shirt, turning it into a sick sort of tie-dye. Michael’s eyes stare up at the ceiling in shock as blood continues to pool in his mouth, choking him. 

It was easy to convince Mike to come to his basement, with the promise of wanting to cheer the boy up by showing him the Marionette and then needing his help with his animatronic. Michael, who loves to watch and help his father with his work on the animatronics, was a little excited if still a little nervous. So with one hand on his back, Henry led the young boy down the steps to the basement. 

The thing about his basement is just how cut off from the rest of the world it can feel. There’s no other entrance to get into the basement and couple that with no windows and only one light source and it can create quite a chilling atmosphere. So chilling that Elizabeth and Chris refuse to step foot in the basement, and even Charlie refuses to come down without Henry.

Michael’s choking and gasping is the only sound in the basement. Well, that and the Marionette’s mechanical clicking and whirring. He turned the animatronic on to keep Michael distracted, and it worked. The poor boy didn’t see the knife coming.

Maybe that’s why when the phone rings in the kitchen, Henry jumps. He only spares the other two occupants of the room a glance before rushing up the stairs to answer the phone.

(If he stayed for a bit longer, Henry would’ve noticed the way the Marionette’s gaze turned to Michael, a look of distress and pity on its face.)

Henry’s not surprised to find the call to be from a frantic William, who went to go pick his son up from their diner, only to find his eldest gone.

“Will you help me look for him?” He says. Henry agrees, grabbing his coat from the rack beside the front door and hopping into his car to head down to the Afton house.

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

The Marionette gets down from the table, it’s eyes never leaving the child. Marionette was programmed with code to help calm distressed children from injuries like cuts and bruises. But even with its limited knowledge of human injuries, it could tell that this was no simple cut.

This child, a small boy of an apparent ten years of age, is too injured for a few soothing words to fix. He needs a doctor, but there’s no employees or the owners for the animatronic to get. So the Marionette can only do one thing it’s programmed to do, it’ll comfort the boy.

It walks up to the child, stepping into the puddle of blood. The boy is no longer making any noise, yet it can tell from the small twitches that he’s still alive. It reaches down to him and slowly pulls him into its arms. Mindful of the painful groans and whimpers coming from him.

It holds the child closely, combing his hair and whispering soothing words that his code can give. It feels the boy slacken in its embrace, the painful whimpers are no longer being uttered. A small smile graces the Marionette’s face. It’s a relief to have calmed the child down enough to have him sleeping.

The Marionette was not programmed with the knowledge of death.

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

After searching around for Michael, Officer Clay was contacted. A search team was sent to check the areas around Fredbear Diner, and even the woods behind the diner. Five o’clock arrives and William’s son is still not found.

By the time Henry gets back to his home, William was barely just holding it together. Henry could understand, he felt the same way with Sammy and Mary’s deaths.

He walks down to the basement but pauses on the steps. There’s a large blood puddle on the floor where Michael’s body is supposed to be, but his body isn’t there. Not only that, but bloody shoe prints are leading away from the puddle.

Henry makes it the rest of the down to find a peculiar but welcome sight. There sits his animatronic, his creation, holding Michael’s dead body in its arms. The Marionette is turned off, hopefully from taking Michael’s remnant and not from overheating.

It took a few times to tug the body from the Marionette’s grasp, even powered off the creation is strong. He curses when he spots some blood staining the animatronic’s outfit. That’s going to be a pain to remove. 

But that’s a task for later. Right now, he needs to figure out where to hide Michael’s body. Henry considers burying his body. But if the police find it they’ll trace the crime back to him. A glance around the basement gives him an idea, the freezer. He can just hide the body until the whole search calms down.

Wrapping Michael’s body up in a blue tarp, He dumps the body in the freezer, the crunch of the body against the frost at the inner walls. He stares down at the body, feeling a twinge of regret for the boy he not so long ago considered a nephew. 

He closes the freezer.

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

It took a month for Henry to finally get rid of Michael’s body. William has been wringing himself ragged trying to find his son, and the kids have been more subdued in their energy. Charlie goes over to the Afton house every day, to try and cheer up her friends. 

The police were the worst though. They hung around almost every corner and shadow, making it impossible for Henry to just dump the body in some dumpster and go. 

He understands why they are working so hard, Michael might be the first case of a kidnapped child from Hurricane that turns out to be serious and not just a kid wandering off. Coupled that with the fact that Officer Clay is a close family friend to the Emilys and Aftons, so he’s probably taking this as badly as William is. Henry understands it, that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

And if that wasn’t enough, turns out he killed Michael for nothing. Michael didn’t possess the Marionette. Henry cleaned the blood off the animatronic and gave a week of waiting for any sign of improvement before setting the attraction open in the diner. 

Much to Henry’s disappointment not only did the Marionette not improve in acting human, it got worse. Now, it would glitch and stutter through the coded phrases at random intervals. And according to some of the patrons, they would hear the animatronic say a strange phrase that Henry knows he didn’t program into the Marionette.

“Save Him.”

(You can’t.)

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

The windshield wipers scrape against the window at the fastest setting Henry’s car has. It’s nine at night, and the cops have finally calmed down enough that Henry feels it’s safe enough to get rid of Michael’s body.

Thinking about the said body, his eyes travel to the rearview mirror, to the thing lying across the backseat. It was a pain digging Michael out of the freezer, the tarp refused to separate from the freezer’s insides, the frost clung to the tarp like weld bond adhesive, Henry gave up and just grabbed Michael and left.

Michael’s body shakes with the car, and once again Henry wishes he fought the tarp just so he doesn’t have to see the body every time he checks behind him. At least Michael’s head is turned towards the backseat, Henry’s not sure he could drive with the feeling of the cold dead gaze on him.

Right now, he’s driving to the diner. The alleyway has the dumpster that he needs to hide the body. Hopefully, the dumpster isn’t too full, or else he has no other thing to do but dig through the trash, and the last thing Henry wants to do is dig through trash in a severe rainstorm.

He drives into the alleyway, careful to keep his car lights low. It didn’t take him long to park the car and drag Michael out from the backseats. Now with the body in his arms, he makes his way to the dumpster, only to have his hopes dashed.

Not only is the dumpster full, but it’s also absolutely overflowing! With trash bags even in a pile around the dumpster. There’s no way Henry can hide his body in there. By the time he digs out a spot for Michael’s body, he will almost certainly get caught.

But Henry can’t go back to his home with the body! Sooner or later, the body would be found if he keeps it at home. And Henry’s not sure what he’s most afraid of if that happens, the police or William.

A light comes on inside the diner, and Henry, panicking, dumps Michael next to the brick wall that makes up the diner. He hurries to his car and speeds out of the alleyway.

An employee named Caleb is the one who discovers the young boy’s body. When questioned by the police if he saw who dumped the poor child’s body in the alleyway, all he could say was he saw a red car speeding off out of the alleyway, he was more concerned about the corpse he found. Caleb would quit his job three days later, citing trauma.

A father is contacted that night to receive the terrible news that he suspected, but hoped to not have.

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

William stares down at the freshly dug grave, the setting sun painting it a warm glow. It’s been a few days since the funeral, and he finds himself in a worse daze than when Michael went missing. At least when his son was missing there was still hope that he would be found alive.

But no, that was never going to happen. He overheard the cops gossiping, he knows how whoever killed his son kept his body in a freezer. He clenches his shaking hands as he’s reminded of it, how some bastard out there was probably looking him in the face and giving him some false sympathies like a snake in the grass.

William eyes the tombstone in front of him once more. 

Michael James Afton

His eyes travel to the tombstone next to his son, his wife’s name on it. He finds himself thankful that he was able to at the very least bury them together. 

He brushes his fingers over his wife’s grave, tracing her name. It takes William a couple of seconds to realize that he’s fallen to his knees in the dirt, but at the moment he doesn’t care.

A feeling started to blossom inside his chest, replacing the cold emptiness that was there before. It gnaws at him, intensifying the anger that already resided in him. William grabs fistfuls of his jeans, scrunching them up and grits his teeth as he identifies the emotion spilling over into his heart.

Intense revenge.

He gets back up onto his feet, ignoring the dirt on his jeans. He spares Michael’s grave one more glance before starting the trek back to his car. He has a lot of planning to do. 

Making sure his son’s murderer gets dragged off to hell will be time-consuming.

[artificialqueens]

Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer), Chapter 5 (Branjie, Jankie) - Joley

ao3 link

Jan yawned as she woke up, limbs stretching as she sprawled out. Her eyes fluttered open in confusion - she was alone, but this was not her bed. But once she properly woke up, the memories of the night before came rushing back. And she had slept so well that night, her body relaxed in the wake of such an intense orgasm, comfortable in Jackie’s arms, there hadn’t been a thing she would’ve changed. But she was wondering where Jackie was – not that she would’ve gone too far from her apartment.

Without her contacts in, Jan had stumbled around the bedroom until she found clothes to put on. They fit a bit snugly, leading her to assume they were Jackie’s. But when she did put her contacts in and looked at the outfit, at the ribbed tank top and short shorts, she decided she looked cute and didn’t bother to change. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and made her way into the other room, smiling when she saw Jackie in the kitchen. “Morning.”

Jackie had thrown a large t-shirt on, one that hit just above her knees and covered the shorts she had on underneath. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun and she hummed contently to herself until she heard Jan’s voice. She looked over her shoulder, her face lighting up when she saw Jan walk towards her. Of course, she recognized her clothes on the other girl, but she had to admit, she liked how they looked on her even more. “Hey,” she greeted, “sleep well?”

“Very,” she hummed, wrapping her arms around her back from behind and kissing her cheeks. “Oh yay, pancakes!” she chirped as she looked at the stove from over Jackie’s shoulder.

“Well, you did ask so nicely last night,” she cooed. “I’ve got syrup and butter in the fridge if you wanna grab that. Do you want coffee?”

Jan let go of Jackie to rifle through the fridge. “I’ll have a cup if you’re making some already,” she replied as she put the syrup and butter on the counter. “Did you know you don’t have to refrigerate butter? Doesn’t make sense, but apparently, that’s a thing.”

Jackie furrowed her brows. “But it’s dairy. How can you not refrigerate dairy?”

“It’s more fat than dairy,” she shrugged as she opened a couple of cabinets until she found the one with the plates in it, taking two out before closing them all up.

“I guess,” Jackie relented, loading the pancakes onto a serving plate and setting it on the counter.

They filled their plates and made coffee before relocating to sit at the dining room table, still talking animatedly about otherwise trivial and mundane topics. All the worry about things being awkward between them in the aftermath had long since dissipated, to the point where it wasn’t even registering to them anymore. They ate their breakfast, got changed, and Jackie walked Jan out when it was time for her to leave. It was as simple as that.

Jackie cleaned up and retreated to her room afterward, laying facedown in bed. She inhaled deeply, her sheets and pillowcase still smelling like Jan. She didn’t know what she had been so worried about, they got along great after having sex. Surely there was no reason why that couldn’t factor into a normal friendship, right?

——

“Okay, you can let go,” Brooke Lynn said to Vanessa, who was standing on the opposite side of the room, holding the end of a tape measure. “So, we’re looking at a nine by nine room, which is a little bigger than I expected, so that’s nice,” she remarked, setting the tape measure aside and sloppily writing the dimensions down in a notebook.

Vanessa nodded as she looked around. The walls were a basic, simple white and the floors were hardwood. They’d both come to the immediate conclusion that both of these were unsuitable for their future child. So, while they were waiting for an update from the agency they had been in touch with, they decided to dive right into the room makeover. “You know what we should do? Paint the wall with the window a bright color, and the rest like, a pastel version of it.”

Brooke tilted her head, trying to envision what her wife described. “That’s a really good idea. We get a lot of natural light in here, it’ll balance out.”

“Don’t sound surprised, I have good ideas all the time!”

“You sure do,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around Vanessa and kissing her pouting lips. “We’ll get one of those paint swatch books and you can pick out your favorites.”

Vanessa arched her brow, unsure if that was an implied promise or if Brooke was simply placating her to avoid conflict – she was well known for the latter, after all. “You’re gonna let me pick?”

Brooke offered a non-committal hum, raking her fingers through Vanessa’s hair. “We’ll talk about it, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah I heard that line before,” she rolled her eyes, but smiled and kissed her nonetheless. “What time is Katya coming to pick up the desk?”

“She said around noon, so I’m expecting about two-thirty,” she chuckled and glanced at her phone. “She’ll text or call me when she’s on her way.” She may not have been able to trust Katya to be on time, but she usually gave enough of a warning for her to adjust accordingly. Still, just in case, she would end up periodically checking to see if her phone would ring or she’d hear that familiar text tone.

Vanessa nodded. “You know, one of Katya’s freshman students is dating her niece,” she remarked offhandedly. “I think she’s Jan’s roommate.”

Brooke’s brows knitted in the middle of her forehead. “Really? I swear, everyone’s so connected around here,” she mused with a shrug. It did seem like every time she was introduced to someone, they already had a connection to someone else. And it was only ever like that in their department at this school, no other community she had been a part of had been so interwoven. There was something oddly endearing about it when she thought about it. Maybe that was why she was still so attached, why she kept coming back here.

“Dunno how, but I think it could be useful once we get back into that matchmaking shit,” she added. “Like, have someone on the inside.”

Brooke looked at her wife curiously. “Are you suggesting we get Jan’s roommate – who is also Katya’s student and by proxy, yours – to be our matchmaking spy? That seems… unethical.”

Vanessa shrugged. “Just spitballin’ ideas here.” It’s not like either of them had a pure ethical code that they had a strict adherence to, but she supposed it was for the best to just let the idea go.

As it turned out, Katya was only about an hour late, which was fairly impressive by her standards. “Alright,” she prompted once she located the desk that had been temporarily moved into the living room, “let’s load this baby up.”

The desk wasn’t too heavy – Brooke and Katya were able to take it outside while Vanessa diligently supervised and helped the other two get it into the van. It was a tight squeeze, but they made it work. “Shit,” Vanessa smiled with an exhale, “this is happening.”

“Are you okay?” Brooke asked as the three of them went back inside.

“I am, it’s just really hitting. But I’ve never been more excited about nothing in my life.”

Katya looked at the couple with piqued interest, sitting down on the couch. “Well, come on, don’t leave me in the dark here,” she jokingly chastised. “Tell me everything. What have you done so far? What do you have to do? Are you gonna have to meet with whatever parent gave up custody?” While Katya and her wife did have a child, they had gone the surrogacy route, as her wife had expressed a strong desire to do so.

“It’s so much paperwork,” Brooke said with a dramatic flourish as she dropped herself onto the couch. “I mean I get it, they want to be thorough, but still.”

Vanessa nodded. “We gotta do this thing called the ‘home study’. It’s a fuckton of meetings, interviews, and training sessions with the agency. Gonna take a few months to do all of it,” she added.

Katya looked positively riveted at the explanation. She supposed she had previously assumed it was just a marginally more complicated version of adopting a pet. “What do they teach you? Like, how not to neglect a kid?”

“Kind of,” Brooke replied. “It’s more like, understanding adoption, figuring out what we bring to the table as good parents, and stuff to decide what type of child would best be suited to us. It’s not like, we just walk into a room, look at a bunch of kids, and pick out the cutest one.”

“I mean yeah, when you put it like that, it is a human being’s entire life in play,” Katya agreed. “I think all parents should have some sort of ‘how not to fuck up your kids’ training. I’d take it in a heartbeat,” she added offhandedly.

Vanessa frowned and leaned forward, making sure she held Katya’s gaze. “Why? You guys are good moms, got your shit together, and whatever.” Sure, it had been a little surprising when she had made the announcement, but they both had all the faith in the world that she would raise her child – Brooke and Vanessa’s goddaughter – very well.

“Yeah, but wouldn’t you want a cheat sheet if you had the option of getting one?”

Brooke and Vanessa looked at each other, engaging in some sort of silent, telepathic communication happening between the two of them before they simultaneously nodded and answered, “yeah.”

Katya had a small, triumphant grin before moving on to her next question. “What type of kid are you hoping for? Is that an… okay thing to ask?”

“Yeah, I mean, we have to set some sort of parameters so the agency knows what to look for,” Brooke explained. “We decided to aim for the three to five age range, adoption rates drop off drastically at that point, and honestly, I don’t trust myself taking care of a newborn. “I said that race and ethnicity was a non-issue for me, but–”

“–But ideally, I’m hopin’ for a Latina, wanna have those cultural things to bond over, you know?” Vanessa finished, then added, “we also want a girl.”

Katya’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm for her friends. “I’m sure whatever child ends up with you is gonna be super cute and super lucky to have you guys,” she told them, then looked down to check her phone. “I gotta head out though, Priyanka’s babysitting, and I don’t trust her with Julia for more than a couple hours, especially if she brought Lemon over,” she said as she got up, then looked at her friends with a fond smile. “Oh, I remember when you two were in that phase. New love, obnoxious horniness. Ah, memories. Anyway, good luck, bye!” And with that, she was gone.

Vanessa moved to sit on Brooke’s lap. “You remember those days, boo? All that young, puppy love?”

Brooke smiled, wrapping her arms around Vanessa’s waist. “How could I ever forget? We were just so obsessed with each other, even though our communication was pretty damn bad at the beginning,” she laughed softly.

“What, like with the Juilliard girl?” Vanessa hid her face in the crook of Brooke’s neck as she giggled. “I thought I was so smart tryna make you jealous to get some rough sex,” she shook her head, cheeks still reddening despite all the years that had passed.

“Yeah, the one I was ready to murder,” Brooke recalled. “Little did you know, the best was yet to come,” she hummed as she aimlessly played with Vanessa’s hair.

Throughout their relationship, they had learned what felt like every little detail about each other, especially in the bedroom. Vanessa learned that Brooke was an exhibitionist that got off on riling her up in public, Brooke learned that Vanessa was a textbook brat that loved having her limits pushed. There was a solid chunk of time after their honeymoon that was dedicated almost exclusively to doing everything and anything they wanted to in bed.

“Been a while since we fucked like that,” Vanessa mused offhandedly. It was neither of their faults, there had been a time where they really couldn’t do anything but work. And they loved their work, and they felt comfortable enough with each other for it to never be a real concern.

Brooke frowned, holding her wife tighter. “I guess so… God, I hope we’re not falling into a lesbian bed death.” She caught the look on Vanessa’s face, the one where she was asking for an explanation without wanting to have to say the words. “It’s when a lesbian couple still really loves each other, but their sex life kind of… tapers off.”

Vanessa nodded in understanding. “Gonna have even less time once we bring in a kid,” she added, then shifted so Brooke was laying down and she was resting on top of her. “I don’t want that to happen with us, though.”

“Then we won’t let it,” she hummed, securing both arms around the smaller woman and leaning up to kiss her sweetly. “We’ll make time for each other, cram in all the sex we can get before we have to be on our best behavior. I promise I’ll make it good for you, okay baby?”

That was enough to satiate the newly-developed concern that had bubbled up inside of Vanessa. She knew neither of them ever doubted that their attraction towards each other was only matched by their love for each other, but just like any other couple, making time to remind themselves of that could only help. “Yeah, I know you’re good for it,” she chuckled softly.

There was a beat of silence before Brooke asked, “Do you think that’s why we’ve been trying to get Jan and Jackie together? To live vicariously through them?”

Vanessa chewed on her lip as she thought. “Nah,” she finally concluded. “It ain’t like that. It’s the nostalgia of it all, you know? It’s fun because watching people fall in love is fun, and sometimes people that are already in love can see that spark in other people.”

Brooke smiled warmly. “You know, sometimes I forget how prolific you can be.”

“I’m not prolific, I’m pro-choice.” Vanessa watched as Brooke struggled with the decision of whether or not to correct her. “I’m just fucking with you, babe.”

——

Jaida stared at Jackie with a deadpan expression. “You know you’re supposed to be the smart one, right?” she finally asked.

Jackie frowned, poking her fork against her food. “I don’t see what the big deal is. This whole thing was just about us being awkward about fooling around. Now we’re having sex, so everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t that be fine?”

The conversation hadn’t been going on for very long, but it was clear that Jaida was already exhausted with her friend. “The general rule of thumb for just fucking someone is that you don’t cuddle them while you sleep and then cook them breakfast in the morning. You do that with someone you’re tryna cuff,” she told her. “And if that’s what you wanna do, that’s fine, but you gotta own it.”

“I’m not trying to cuff her!” Jackie insisted. “I mean it, we have great sexual chemistry and we were driving ourselves crazy trying to ignore it. So, all we’re doing is not ignoring it. It’s healthier for us, otherwise class was just… weird. And I don’t want things to be weird with her.”

“You want me to believe that you got no feelings for her whatsoever, huh?” Jaida hadn’t even met Jan yet, she didn’t need to. She’s known Jackie long enough to know that she has never had a successful friends-with-benefits relationship before. Someone always caught feelings, and no matter how it ended, it was never good. Perhaps that was obvious, considering Jackie had been single for over a year, something Jaida knew she hated.

And that left Jackie quiet for a good few moments. As much as she overanalyzed everything else in her life, she didn’t want to do that with Jan. Jan didn’t seem complicated to her – she was vivacious and charming and seemed to know exactly what she wanted out of life. She had an air of whimsy about her that Jackie both admired and envied. “I’ve never met anyone like her before. I can’t explain how, but she’s… different. And I don’t know if it means I have feelings for her, I’m not at a point where I want to think about it.”

Jaida nodded as she listened. Even if she wasn’t fully convinced in everything Jackie said, she understood where she was coming from. And she could’ve kept riding her about it, but she didn’t see much point in that either. “Is sex good, at least?”

Jackie nearly choked on the bite of food in her mouth, quickly washing it down with a swig of her drink. “Jaida!” she giggled her hand to her chest, clutching imaginary pearls. “But, um… yes, some of the best I’ve ever had. It’s crazy, when you look at her, you see this cute, doe-eyed girl, but as soon as she gets a little horny… shit, it’s a whole transformation.”

“You topping her or nah?” She was amused and surprised by how candid her friend was being and wanted to see how far she could push it.

This time Jackie blushed and bit down on her lip. “Oh my god, Jaida,” she shook her head and looked down. “There’s no other option but to top her, it’s pretty hot.”

“Damn, okay,” Jaida laughed. “So when do I get to meet this girl? Wanna find out who’s been living in your mind rent-free.”

Jackie shrugged as she finished up her lunch. “Stop by campus one of these days, I’m sure Brooke Lynn won’t mind if you sit in on a class,” she offered. “Just play it cool, okay?”

Jaida snorted. “You first, bitch.”

[marvinswriting]

a new friend

NEW AU????? Bear and I worked together to create this one. Continue reading to find out whos giant and who’s tiny and SEE BEARS FIC FOR PART TWOOOO  Janis and the borrowers au

Damian had only been on his own for maybe six months now. Yeah, it got boring, but it was manageable. The house he was living in had pretty predictable schedules, no bugs, and no noisy children.

There was a girl, Damian's age, maybe a little younger but no literal child like in his old house. She wasn't home much anyway, apparently always at a friend's house. 

Damian wasn't complaining. Between the mother working full days with overtime and the father never home anyway, it made Damian's life pretty easy. 

The Sarkisians.

Damian considered himself pretty lucky with this house.

Growing up with his mom, they live in a small house with four kids. Somebody was always out of their rooms and nobody slept at the same time as the rest of them.

So Damian deemed his life pretty easy at this point.

The front door slams signaling somebody's home. The mother and father typically fought a lot so it wasn't uncommon for yelling and door slamming. But when a younger voice began shouting Damian sat up straighter, paying attention a bit more.

Hey, life in the walls gets boring. Drama is drama.

"Janis, sweetheart, please come out of the bathroom."

"No!"

"Why not, honey. I understand this is hard for you-"

"You understand?! No, you don't!"

Jesus. Teenagers.

"My best friend outed me to the entire school! Somebody wrote dyke on my locker in sharpie! I can't walk down the hall without getting shoved or yelled at or-" The yelling was cut off by a sob. "You don't understand that."

Damian couldn't tell if his area in the walls was closer to the bathroom then he realized or if there was just a lot of yelling.

And crying.

There was no talking for a bit. Only the muffled cries from in the bathroom.

"Janis sweetheart, I have to go to work. I picked up an extra shift tonight not knowing this would happen. I don't know when your father will be back but just promise me you won't spend the whole time locked in the bathroom?"

"Sure." A bitter voice responded. "Bye, mom."

"Goodbye. Love you."

"Love you too."

The door shut, a lot quieter then when it was opened, and the house was quiet again for a bit.

And then he heard the crying.

Oh god, Damian hated hearing people cry.

When you live in the walls, you tend to hear a lot (if your thinking about that then yes, you can hear that too). But the one thing Damian hated listening to the most was crying.

Not because it was loud or annoying, but because it was sad. And he wished he could help. 

But he knew the borrower rules. He wasn't dumb. His mother raised him well and Damian likes to think he's a pretty skillful borrower. But every time he heard crying he couldn't help but feel like the borrower code wasn't such a bad thing to break. 

Like- he was right there. He could help. Or try to. 

Try to. 

Damian carefully pushed the outlet out of the way and stepped into the hallway not really thinking about what he was doing. He could see the bathroom from here with the door cracked open a bit. He walked over, still pushed up against the wall.

All borrower rules went out the window in his head. He needed to make sure this girl was okay, even if it was hidden and from afar.

There was a toiletries cabinet right at the bathroom entrance that Damian ducked under. 

The girl, Janis, was sitting in the far corner of the bathroom, knees pulled up to her chest, shaking slightly. 

Damian watched as she pressed her phone, audio filling the bathroom.

"Janis, I know you didn't let my call go to voicemail. Anyway, I don't see why you're so upset. I'm just looking out for you. You're a lesbian. I'm just doing what's best. How was I supposed to know you'd have a mental break and lose it? Also, you won't be sitting with us on Monday for- obvious reasons. Don't call back! Tata!"

Well, Damian already hated whoever that was.

He watched as Janis coughed out another frustrating sob and played another voicemail. "Hey, its Gretchen. Regina called and said you can't be seen with us Monday but she wants me to tell you again to make the message really clear. So yeah. Bye Janis!" There was whispering. "Oh- right. Bye Space Dyke."

Damian made a face at the nickname.

Janis did too. 

She continued to play more audios. Why was she doing that to herself?

"Hey!" This person sounded bubbly. "Its Karen. Listen, I don't fully know whats going on but remember the rule of twos! Yeah, Regina is mad at you, but now you don't have to deal with her being mad to your face." Karen laughed. "Okay, byeeee."

Janis let out a dry chuckle at this one. "That's rich."

There were more voicemails played and videos opened. None of them said particularly nice things. 

Yet Janis kept watching them.

Damian watched as she put her phone down, burying her face in her knees and pulled into herself more. 

Every time her phone dinged she jumped a little but make no efforts to check the messages. 

Her shoulders shook as she cried and Damian wasn't really thinking as he-

"Hey, are you okay?"

His hand slapped on his mouth as he froze. He did not just do that. 

Janis glanced up in confusion. Her eyes landed on Damian's small form and the confusion turned quickly to panic. "Ohmygod what are you?"

She pushed herself against the wall holding her phone up like she was ready to throw it defensively. 

Huh. Damian always thought he'd be the one scared of a human. Not the other way around. It strangely made him feel braver as he lowered his hand from his mouth.

"I'm-"

"Ahhh- oh my god, you talk- what the fuck. Tiny bug man talks- what the?! Whatever I did I'm sorry please just don't-" She put a hand to her chest, teary eyes wide, heaving slightly. "What is going on?!"

"Please breathe," He said tentatively, Janis did not seem to listen. Tiny bug man. Huh. Damian forced down the small smile that made way to his face. He was not gonna laugh at a girl freaking out.

Well, this will be interesting. Damian took a step forward before deciding against it and instead taking two steps back. He held his hands up in defense. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Janis did not seem extremely reassured by this. "Whatthefuck what the fuck?!"

Damian lowered his hands slowly. Before he could open his mouth to talk, Janis cut him off in a panic ramble.

"You're so small- you fucking talk- oh my god. I hate bugs they make me cry. Please don’t like- do anything- I’m sorry. I just- What ar- no. Who are you and what are you doing in my house?!"

Well, shes got manners. At least shes knows I'm not an 'it'.

"I'm Damian." He says slowly. Janis is still holding her phone like a weapon and he's not in the mood to dodge projectiles. Maybe next time. "I'm a borrower."

Hey if I'm gonna break one code may as well break them all.

"How are you so- small?" Janis slowly lowered her phone.

"Born this way."

"Oh," Her face flushed with embarrassment. "That was a bad question. Sorry if that was offensive or something."

Damian shook his head. "Not necessarily. To me at least."

Janis nodded. "A borrower? I thought those were myths."

"Nope," Damian grinned. "I'm standing here, aren't I?"

"I guess so." Janis mumbled. Her phone went off again and she cursed under her breath.

"What's going on with that?" Damian asked. "You seemed pretty upset."

Janis waved her hand, still shaking. "It's stupid."

"Clearly not if it had you that upset." Damian points out, but he doesn't push further.

Janis is quiet for a moment, picking at a stray string on her sweater. "So, borrowers? They're real, huh."

"Last time I checked," Damian said with a smile.

"How long have you lived here?" Janis asked. She slowly was starting to uncurl herself as she talked to Damian.

"Maybe about half a year."

"Half a year," Janis repeated in awe. "Wow."

"Yeah," Damian laughed. "It's pretty cool."

They chatted for a bit, just passing questions back at forth to each other. Janis avoided the topic of whatever had her so upset like the plague. But Damian knew other things about her now. Like he was exactly four months older then she was, Janis actually hated the color pink (despite her outfit) and she liked drawing but never looked into it further then doodles. 

Damian, who never thought he'd even talk to a human, found himself relaxed and opening up to this girl. Maybe it was risky but- Janis seemed nice. She didn't get any closer to him and gave him his space. He told her tales about his mom and borrowing and Janis seemed in awe by it all. Damian wasn't sure how long they talked but he didn't mind. After leaving his Mom, life got lonely. Talking to himself just made him feel crazy.

Janis looked at the clock on her phone. "My mom will be home soon."

"Then I should get going," Damian said, turning around trying not to seem upset. 

"Wait-"

Janis paused like she didn't even know what she wanted to say. Like her mouth just kinda spoke without thinking. Kinda like his brain not even an hour ago. That's what started all this.

"You- you won't leave now, right?" Janis asked softly. "Isn't that a borrower thing, to leave when they're caught?"

"Yeah," Damian said. "It is." His heart broke a bit at how Janis deflated slightly.

"Right," She said. "Then," She took in a breath. "I guess it was fun meeting you. Thanks for talking with me today. It was a nice distraction."

Damian paused. He didn't want to leave. He just morally knew he should. But-

Was it worth it to break every rule he set for himself in life? He liked talking to Janis, yes. But they've been chatting for half an hour at opposite ends of the bathroom. They both hadn't made any more to get anywhere near each other. But-

Did he like talking to Janis or did he like just having somebody in general to talk to? Damian didn't have any roommates. 

"Damian?"

He had been standing there silently for a bit too long.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," He said slowly. "I think- I think I'm gonna stay." 

Damian gave a soft smile which quickly grew when he saw the bright grin on Janis's face. 

Yeah, they only just met. And yeah, Janis was still slightly pressed against the bathroom wall like a bug was gonna fly at her- but something told Damian maybe this was worth breaking the borrower rules for. They both clearly needed somebody and hey, Janis wasn't crying anymore. 

Damian hated when people cried.

part two HERE! (i’ll add the tink when bear posts it lmao) taggggssss @realmisspolarbear @smallsoysauce @musicallygt @sourishlemons