#asking me this question sets you up for an eight hour long conversation about video game development. this is the abridged version

[blueskittlesart]

do you have any thoughts for the future of zelda? do you prefer the open world of botw and totk, or wish they’d lean back into the traditional dungeon/explore/dungeon linear structure?

this is a hard question to answer. I think botw was incredibly successful as an open-world zelda game. In many ways it redefined the modern standard for game development. years after its release we're still seeing hundreds of botw-like open-world games being released, using their large maps and nonlinearity as marketing draws. But the thing is, I've honestly yet to see another game capture what really made botw's open map GREAT. Botw's gigantic world was cool, yes. very few other games of that scale existed at the time it was released. but what really drew ME to botw and its world was the way in which the story of the game was woven into the open-world gameplay. The open world was not a marketing draw for botw, it was a complete, thought-out facet of its story. It allowed the player to experience the narrative firsthand through exploration, and the games' central themes reinforced that mechanic of discovery. A big reason I find myself drawn to loz as a franchise, as someone intensely interested in game design as an art form, is the way in which these games consistently find new and unique ways to utilize their medium to tell their stories. the linearity of earlier titles was a strategic use of the medium to tell their stories in an interactive manner which always puts the player first. Botw was a departure from that standard, but it was a departure in a way that still held true to loz's standard of player-centered storytelling and utilization of all elements of gameplay. botw's world was cool because it was huge and open, yes, but it was REALLY cool because it was first and foremost a storytelling vessel.

anyway. to answer your actual question, what im trying to say is that linearity vs open world matters much less to me than HOW the story is interwoven into the world and mechanics of the game. i'd be fine with another linear game if the story was written with linearity in mind, and the same goes for open-world. In terms of game development, I would like to see the devs continue to push the boundaries of what's possible in order to tell their stories. open world was cool with botw, but with the intense popularity that game garnered it's going to be difficult to create a new open-world zelda that doesn't end up feeling like a botw remake. imo the way that the franchise SHOULD go from here is to focus on the ways they can innovate on the open-world concept as introduced in botw in order to tell a new cohesive story. how that will play out is anyone's guess, but with the amazing successes that the last few games have been, I'm definitely looking forward to the future of the franchise!

[sage-lights]

met you at the right time (this is what it feels like)

word count: 2287 Their friends at Smosh were starting to take note of the way Amanda and Angela acted with one another, and it was confusing the heck out of them. Or Amanda and Angela are very happy as a "secret third thing."

Chanse didn’t know when it started, or if this was any different than how Amanda and Angela had always been. But he first took notice of it during an otherwise unremarkable lunch at the Smosh office.

As much as he loved working at Smosh, he had to admit the filming schedule was often brutal. Their call times were usually between eight and nine in the morning. But after a shoot went overtime earlier in the week, Selina had asked the cast to come in at seven today to compensate and ensure they filmed all the videos they had planned for this shooting block. This morning, he rushed through his usual routine, skipping breakfast with barely enough time to make it out the door.

All of this to say, Chanse was starving. It was all he could think about during the last “Try Not to Laugh.”

After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally time for their lunch break. The office had ordered deli sandwiches for everyone, and while Chanse was usually not one to turn down free food, there was a container of last night's leftovers in the fridge calling his name.

While waiting for his lunch to reheat in the microwave, he twirled around the kitchen a bit and checked what flavors of Celsius and La Croix were still stocked. He soon grew bored and leaned against the island counter, people-watching instead. From his position, Chanse had the perfect view to observe all his coworkers milling around the main meeting area.

Near the end of the long tables where the catering was set up, Chanse spotted Angela and Erin engaged in an animated discussion. Judging by Angela's comically shocked expression, he assumed it was about the insane Tinder message Erin had shown him that same morning. He chuckled—straight men are a whole other breed of crazy.

Erin and Angela arrived at a table near the mural at the back of the room where Amanda, Kiana, and Selina were already eating. As expected, Angela sat right next to Amanda—they might as well carry a “Reserved” sign with them everywhere to perpetually save the seat next to them.

The microwave behind him dinged, and Chanse grabbed his lunch before joining them.

“Hey, y’all!” Before Chanse even sat down, Erin swept him into the conversation.

“Oh, my God, Chanse! Remember the Tinder date I was telling you about?” He nodded, “I’ve got updates.”

“Already? Damn, it’s only been a couple of hours!”

“I told you, he’s. Insane.”

Angela scooted her chair back and stood, “Let me get a drink before you continue. Got a feeling you’re not even halfway through the story.”

“Yeah, you go do that,” Erin halfheartedly shooed Angela away, “Because I want you guys to be sat for this story!”

She returned to their table holding a drink in each hand and passed Amanda a grapefruit La Croix before cracking open her own berry-flavored Celsius. Amanda muttered a soft “thank you,” and Angela responded by gently patting Amanda’s leg. Throughout the whole exchange, they didn’t look at each other, didn’t acknowledge the strange act of domesticity. Like this was just considered the norm for them.

Chanse looked around, but no one else seemed fazed. He shook his head, wondering if anyone else had even noticed it.

Angela glanced over, and he caught her gaze, giving her a skeptical look. She stared at him, confused, before turning back to Erin.

He didn’t know what to think anymore.

This was something to file away for later. Angela was definitely getting questioned about it on the ride home.

—

Arasha knew she should be paying attention to the notes their director was reading. Especially since the live show was coming up so soon and the sitcom format they were trying to pull off had some very technically complex elements to it.

She tried for a while, her eyes flicking between her friends and the director. But she couldn’t focus on the director’s words when there was a much more interesting scene playing out in front of her.

She’d been squished between Amanda and Angela enough times to know they were naturally touchy people. Angela would randomly lean on her shoulder for brief moments, Amanda would place a hand on her leg while laughing, and Arasha often found herself playfully hitting her friends’ arms to emphasize certain parts of her stories.

However, Arasha sensed a difference between their general touchiness and whatever was happening with Amanda and Angela now. The intentionality of their movements set it apart; she knew they were both fully aware of their actions. She just wasn’t sure if they realized how differently others interpreted them.

Arasha tried again to focus on the director’s notes, but her eyes still drifted to the couch in front of her. The conversation about character choices and blocking faded into the background.

Amanda leaned against the armrest with Angela settled remarkably close to her. As their coworkers asked questions and pitched ideas back and forth, Arasha watched the two of them whisper amongst themselves. She remembered the way Angela and Amanda had shared a look during last week’s rehearsal, the silent communication that seemed almost intimate.

Now, watching them whisper and laugh together, Arasha felt her suspicions solidify. It was very reminiscent of how they were acting during Under the Mistletoe. Now that she thought about it more, she definitely should’ve clocked this behavior much earlier.

Maybe live shows just brought out something within them. Then again, Angela and Amanda have always been close, both figuratively and literally. But this time around, they didn’t have the guise of alcohol to hide their physical affection behind.

Angela reached over to the other side of the couch and grabbed the white chunky knit blanket, draping it over her and Amanda’s legs. She swung her feet onto the couch and tucked them underneath the blanket before leaning back into Amanda’s side. The taller woman sat up to wrap her left arm around Angela’s shoulders and pull her in impossibly close.

Here they are, the middle of the workday, cozied up with one another as if they were in the comfort of their own apartments.

They must know this isn’t how platonic friends act with one another, right?

—

Courtney didn’t make a habit of prying into other people's lives. They knew just how much all her friends and coworkers valued their privacy and it would be hypocritical for her to speculate considering how long their relationship with Shayne was kept private from their online audience.

But she couldn’t help the curiosity swirling in her mind as Amanda talked about a fan edit she watched recently.

They were sitting on the Smosh Mouth set, microphones in front of them on the wooden table, and cameras capturing every moment. Courtney watched Amanda as she described the edit, reenacting parts of it for them.

What was interesting, however, was that Amanda made a blatant request for more. And knowing their audience, Courtney was sure that Amanda would soon to be flooded with dozens of edits across Instagram and TikTok.

Sure, Courtney would concede that they had watched their fair share of edits—she remembered sitting in the old Defy office years ago reacting to them with Olivia. She might have also indirectly encouraged edits of herself and Shayne in an old SmoshCast episode. And plus, she would be remiss if she ignored the fact that they just made a comment about how all the girls on the cast look at each other with pure adoration and love.

But still, never had Courtney ever asked for edits of herself to be made. It got her thinking, to say the least.

As the podcast recording wrapped up, Courtney’s mind lingered on Amanda’s request. Casually, she brought it up again.

“So, about that edit you mentioned…” Courtney began, her tone light but inquisitive. Amanda’s eyes lit up, and she pulled out her phone  to it to show them.

Courtney knew you couldn’t trust everything you saw on the Internet. People could manipulate photos and videos to fit their narratives. But as she watched the edit of her close friends, she started to believe it too.

Observing Amanda rewatch the edit, Courtney saw a familiar look—soft eyes and a small smile. It was the exact expression Shayne had given them countless times.

Hm, there was definitely something more there.

—

The entire cast and crew were gathered at a karaoke bar now, drinking and singing their hearts out. Even after weeks of rehearsals and an hour and a half long live show, it seems that with this group, the urge to perform just never went away.

Courtney spotted her friends tucked away in a booth, and by the looks of it, Chanse and Arasha are arguing intensely over something. They slid in next to Arasha, lightly bumping her with their hip so she’d scoot over.

“Who’s winning?” they joked, taking a sip of their cocktail.

“Look at Amanda and Ang over there,” pointed Arasha, “They’re so in love and they don’t even know it.”

Chanse looked shocked, “You just said that you don’t think they’re going to get together!”

“Emphasize on the ‘they don’t even know it,’ Chanse!”

Courtney chimed in, “Give them some credit guys! I bet you they’re not as clueless as you think they are.”

“$10 says it’ll take them a months to realize they’ve got feelings for each other,” Chanse insisted.

Courtney scoffed, “five months, tops.”

“You guys forget,” Arasha cut in, “they’re both idiots. It’ll take them at least until end of the year, if not longer.”

“You’re insane!” exclaimed Courtney.

“What? Already doubting your prediction?” Arasha said with a cheeky grin.

“Nope.”

Chanse smirked, clearly scheming already. And the girls know that a scheming Chanse was a dangerous Chanse.

Courtney looked pointedly at him, “No interfering! If we’re doing this, we’re playing fair.”

“Fine,” huffed Chanse, “If we’re playing the long game, then I think we should up the stakes.”

Arasha laughed, “$20 good enough for you?”

“I’m thinking more like $25 from each loser.”

“Jeez, Chanse. We’re not made of money here!”

“It’s go big, or go home, Arash.”

If there’s one thing you need to know about the cast, it’s that they’ve all got a serious competitive streak. There’s no way any of them were backing down from a challenge.

“Okay, I’m in.”

Chanse looked over at Courtney, “You too?”

“Fuck it,” Courtney sticks their hand into the center and her two friends join, sealing the deal.

Courtney hoped that Amanda and Angela would figure out their feelings soon, for their own sake. Though selfishly, winning $50 from the whole ordeal wouldn’t be a bad bonus.

—

Shayne laughed when Courtney informed him of the bet they had going with Chanse and Arasha, and told his wife that that Arasha would likely end up winning the prize money.

He had gotten much closer to both Angela and Amanda over the past couple of years working together, and was immensely grateful that Smosh Mouth had given him the capacity to work with Amanda in a way he hadn’t had the chance to before.

Despite his extroverted on-screen persona, Shayne was much quieter in reality. He preferred to be a spectator rather than a participant. So, not to toot his own horn or anything, but Shayne thought he knew them pretty well by now.

Amanda was an open-book, though she wasn’t often vulnerable. She told crazy stories from her life before Smosh, grand tales of the otherworldly adventures she’d been on, and gives great advice when you ask her for some perspective.

But she often didn’t talk about her feelings. Amanda mentioned it off-handedly in Smosh Mouth episodes and conversations outside of work that she doesn’t like to let her personal life affect her ability to do her job properly. Shayne admired her in that manner, no one could ever claim Amanda was anything less than a true professional.

Angela was the complete opposite. Shayne related to her in the ways they were both private people, preferring to discuss their work or whatever TV show they had watched recently. He didn’t find small talk to be shallow, at least in this scenario where he’s not trying to seem cool to a stranger. Both of them just didn’t think to talk about themselves often.

What separated Angela from Shayne was her innate vulnerability. It was difficult to not wear your heart on your sleeve when you were as earnest a person as Angela was. Their coworkers liked to tease her occasionally for it—you couldn’t tell her anything without getting a shocked Pikachu face in return.

However, together, they balanced each other out nicely. When they were around one another, Shayne noticed how Amanda’s walls would slowly start to crumble away, and Angela got excited to recount the mundane details of her day.

Honestly, they seemed perfectly content just the way they are now. Something a little more than best friends, but a little less than lovers. And hey, if it works for them, who was he to tell their friends to act differently?

—

(Angela was scrolling through TikTok before bed with Spork happily curled up on her chest, petting him softly to lull him to sleep. Hopefully, this time, he won’t sneeze in my face after I’ve already exfoliated and moisturized, she thought to herself.

A video of a random girl lip syncing to a song she vaguely recognized popped up. The text above her read “yk your friendship is elite if people think you’re dating.”

Without missing a beat, Angela sent it to Amanda.

angela: literally us

amanda: HAHAHAHAH SO REAL

Angela smiled like an idiot to herself. God, she loves Amanda. So much.)

[helliontherapscallion]

I'm sorry for adding on to your pile of requests but I just wanted some family fluff with sbi where all of the siblings are having fun on a road trip or vacation

I don't know if that's specific enough for you if you want a little more detail maybe they're just being really dumb and making stupid videos with each other because that's something my sister and I do a lot

(A/N): I hope you don’t mind that I added Kristin and Tubbo (BASED ON THE CHARACTERS, NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE). Real life AU btw (no covid tho)

Okokok so this is deadass something Philza and Kristin is both dreading and looking forward to

1. They love spending time with their family especially now since yall are getting older and don’t spend as much time together anymore/getting ready to fly the coop

2. Have you met the SBI fam? Chaos incarnated.

After packing, yall set out on your trip to the hotel yall rented for a week or so (about an eight hour drive away from the house)

You and your twin Tommy 100% smuggle Tubbo underneath all of the luggage and a blanket

You’ll just ask them for forgiveness when you’re about halfway through

It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission 

Wilbur and Technoblade catching you hiding the stowaway and blackmailing you both into doing their chores for a few week 

Seating: Phil and Kristin in the front, Tech and Wil in the middle, You and Tommy in the back, and Tubbo in the trunk (it’s a mom van)

Before getting too far into the trip, a gas station is raided for snacks and drinks

Philza raising a brow at the amount of food you and Tommy get 

Philza’s eyes were torn off from the refrigerator in front of him by his wife lightly nudging him. Looking at her in question, she raised her eyebrows and pointed at their youngest kids. It looked like they were just looking at the Monster drinks, so why- oh god the last thing he needed was two already hyper teenagers hopped up on Monster trapped in a car for eight hours. Before he could go over there to stop them, Kristin grabbed his arm. 

“They’re up to something. Listen to what they’re saying.”

He strained his ears to hear what you both are whispering to each other. “...e like this flavor?”

Tommy shrugged, “I dunno. I’ll text him.”

As Tommy texted someone, Phil looked back at his wife. She wore a similar wary expression as they both stared at each other. He nodded in confirmation, “definitely. How do you reckon we confront them?”

He watched as his wife thought for a moment before she sighed and looked at him with a hint of excitement in her eyes, “let’s wait to see. It might be a pleasant surprise.” 

“What? Are you mad?” He eyed his youngest gremlins once more. It seemed that they finally decided on a flavor and are now moving on to the snack portion. He looked back at his wife and felt his heart skip a beat at the small grin on her face. “...fine. Let’s just see what they’re doing after they do it.” Oh, the things he does for love.

He kept a very close eye on you two after that 

You both are on your phones for longer than usual

Texting Tubbo so that he wasn’t lonely 

Tubbo has fun with hiding too, never being bored at all

The only thing that he (and you and Tommy) struggled with was holding in his laughter

You jumped as you felt someone gently slap your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Tubbo’s hand peeking over the backs of the seats. You glanced at your parents in the front seats, they were deep in conversation. Good. You saw Tommy stifle a laugh and pull out his phone to record. 

Tubbo made grabby hands at something but you didn’t know what he wanted, so you decided to mess with him a bit. Smirking, you put your earbuds in his hand. It snaked back underneath the blanket before he threw it back at you and did more intense grabby hands. You put your metal water bottle in his hand. He did the same thing before he threw it back at you. It collided with your forehead with a loud bong sounding throughout the car. Tommy started to laugh loudly and ended the video. You followed suit in the laughter as Tubbo’s hand froze midair and quickly slinked back into his lair.

All noise in the car came to a halt as they all looked behind them (well, Phil glanced through the rearview mirror suspiciously) to see you and Tommy laughing your asses off with you holding your forehead. Through blurred vision, you could see Kristin looking at you with worry and Techno and Wilbur looking confused and mildly annoyed.

“(Y/n) honey are you alright? What happened?” You opened your mouth to respond, but only wheezes came out making you laugh harder. You could hear Tubbo silently cackling to himself in the back, the blanket shaking slightly. Without being able to speak, you only nodded your head and gave her a thumbs up. 

Tommy sent the video into the siblings' group chat and you could see over Wilbur’s shoulder as he watched it before starting to cackle and save the video to his phone. Even Techno got a good chuckle out and saved it to his phone making Phil and Kristin even more suspicious. Well, Kristin was just excited for what you two (four? Was Techno and Wilbur in on it as well?) had planned. Phil could just imagine the chaotic things you had planned. And he did not like what came to his mind.

When the rest stop came eventually (about three hours into the trip), you all left the car to stretch your legs and take care of business

Taking separate ways to walk in pairs (same person they sat next to in the car)

You and Tommy wait until Phil and Kristin leave before getting Tubbo out of the trunk

You three vibe walking along the winding sidewalks for a bit before you come back to the car and get Tubbo back into the trunk

You, however, forgot to use the bathroom so you leave Tommy and Tubbo in the car 

“Fuck, I forgot to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick, I’m not fuckin telling em if we forget you.”

“Pfft, they won’t forget me. Stop joking around.”

With that, you left the car and made a beeline to the bathroom. After that, you went back to the car. Well, where the car was supposed to be. There was no sight of a van anywhere in the parking lot. That asshole, he just let them drive off? He and Tubbo’s probably giggling to themselves in the backseat like school girls. You were only gone for like eight minutes. 

Sighing, you walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling up Techno’s contact and calling him. 

He picked up after a few rings. The second you heard the dial tone stop, you spoke to him, “check the backseat.”

“What? You’re taking a nap, why’re you calling me I’m literally right in front of you.”

“Just fuckin check, Tech.”

In the background, you could hear Tommy snickering to himself. You heard some rustling before Techno started laughing, “Dad, we left (y/n) at the rest stop.”

“YEAH YA FUCKIN DID!” 

You could hear loud laughter from your brothers and muffled cursing from Phil. You heard Kristin tell Techno to hand her the phone. 

“We’re so sorry, we’re turning around right now. We’ll be there in about five minutes. Stay in one place and don’t talk to strangers.”

“I dunno Mom, that trucker looks really friendly. Might do some hitch hiking with him.”

You ended up befriending an old lady when she sat next to you on the bench with her husband. She even gave you some butterscotch and those strawberry hard candies that all older people somehow have but you can never find in stores. Her husband was telling you stories about his younger days when you saw the familiar van pull into the parking lot. Waving goodbye, you thanked them and hopped back into the car. 

After profuse apologizing from your family and scolding Tommy for tricking them, you were on the road again. You glared at Tommy with a small smile on your face, “you fuckin prick. Did you seriously make it look like I was sleeping under a blanket?”

“Yeah, I told you that I wouldn’t tell them if we forgot you.”

“You fuckin dick,” you grabbed a few butterscotches and strawberry candies and handed some to Tubbo after ensuring your parents weren’t looking. He took them gratefully and quickly. You heard him whisper a ‘thank you’ and opened them with plastic crinkling. 

“Wha- are those butterscotches? Gimme some.” He was about to snatch them out of your hands before you moved away from him. “No, you left me at the rest stop. You don’t get any. Do you guys want some? I’ve got butterscotches and strawberry candies.”

After you handed them out to your family, Phil looked at you confused in the rearview mirror, “(y/n), where’d you get these?”

“Oh, I just made some friends with an old couple while I was waiting.”

“You what? What if they kidnapped you?”

“Naw they couldn’t’ve. Ethel has hip problems and Charles was in a wheelchair. They were chill anyway.”

“...Just- just don’t do that again.” “Well don’t forget me again at a rest stop three hours away from home and you got yourself a deal.” 

After a while the family was chill again and everything was back to normal

It was getting closer and closer to when Tubbo would make his reveal

You three agreed that Tubbo would just wait for the perfect time 

That time came about three hours later when Phil and Kristin was asking everybody where they should stop for food

“So kids, we have three options: McDonalds, Wendy’s, and Arby’s. What do you want?”

“Wendy’s is obviously the superior choice.” Tommy proclaimed and you nodded in agreement. You leaned back and whispered to Tubbo, “now would be a great time.” You pulled out your phone to discreetly record the front seat. 

“No it isn’t. Arby’s is you heathens.” Wilbur chimed in, glancing at his twin for back up. Techno shrugged, “I’m fine with anything as long as it’s edible.”

“I’m more of a fan of Wendy’s myself!” Tubbo’s muffled voice chimed in from his makeshift hut in the trunk. You snickered as Kristin whipped her head around to look at the back seat and Phil’s eyes snapping up to look at you through the rearview mirror. 

“...Tubbo?”

“Hi Mrs. Tommy and (y/n)’s mum!” You flipped the camera around just in time to catch Tubbo poking his head out of the blanket and grin sheepishly at them. You panned over to Tommy’s ruby red face as he was holding in his laughter before flipping it back to the front. 

“You absolute gremlins, this is what you’ve been hiding?” Phil scolded you and Tommy, his knuckles whitening from gripping the steering wheel. You could see his shoulders bouncing slightly with a slight strain in his voice from holding in chuckles. 

“Honey, have you been in the trunk this entire time?” 

“Yeah, but it’s quite comfy back here! Tommy and (y/n) gave me pillows and some snacks. Got some stretching done at the rest stop.”

“You’ve been back there for six hours?” Phil’s incredulous voice asked. 

“Yep! Don’t worry, I had a lot of room. Anyways, my vote goes to Wendy’s.”

The car was quiet before Kristin started to laugh, “Wendy’s it is. See Phil, I told you it was gonna be a pleasant surprise!”

Tubbo sat between you and Tommy in the backseat for the rest of the trip 

Techno and Wilbur saying that they knew Tubbo was back there but left out the blackmail part

There was no way they’d risk losing their little siblings doing their chores for them for a few weeks

At the hotel, the rooming was the same as the seating in the car

You, Tommy, and Tubbo having the time of your lives alone in your hotel room

Jumping on the beds, checking for hidden cameras and double sided mirrors (well, that doesn’t sound fun, but you had fun doing it), truth or dare, racing each other down the halls at night time, the works

B L A N K E T  F O R T S (but always cleaning up the hotel room in the mornings bc yall are respectful to the staff)

Getting plenty of videos of you guys ding dong ditching Techno and Wilbur’s room

Them getting tired of it so they tell Dadza and Momza and they tell you to stop : (

Walking around aimlessly around the hotel hallways with Wilbur and Techno

Going up and down elevators aimlessly 

Pulling an all nighter with Tommy and Tubbo on the last day

Philosophical late night talks when yall hardly know what you’re saying anymore (and becoming closer than ever before)

“Tommy, Tubbo?” You three were currently sitting on the balcony chairs looking out at the empty parking lot and the occasional cars driving by. It was about three in the morning and you guys were determined to stay up all night. “If you think about it, a hotdog is puréed meat in an intestine casing. When we eat the hotdogs, we turn it back into puréed meat. It eventually goes through your intestines which makes you the hotdog for a solid couple of hours.”

“...What the fuck, (y/n).”

“No no, they’ve got a point. Don’t you understand, Tommy? We are hotdogs.”

“...I’m starting to think you guys need sleep. Speakin nonsense.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you two reckon we’re alone in the universe?”

“What do you mean, Tubbo?” You glanced at the male next to you and raised an eyebrow. He was looking up at the stars with furrowed brows. 

“Like, do you guys think there’s life out there. Looking down at us right now wondering the same thing.” 

You hummed and looked up at the stars. They were twinkling down at you with the occasional shooting star blazing by. Red lights from far off satellites being the only visible sign of humans in the dark expanse of space. “I think so. I mean, nobody knows how big the universe is. You never really know.”

“Honestly I don’t know what’s scarier, being the only lifeforms and being completely alone or having things out there that we don’t know about.” 

You sling an arm over your twin’s shoulders, “that doesn’t matter. As long as we have each other, we’ll never be alone. We’ll face whatever the universe has in store for us together.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know, I just hate it when people only see me as the loud annoying one. It really gets to me sometimes and I don’t know what I should do about it. Fuck, even Wil and Tech see me like that.”

“Toms, fuck them. They don’t know you like we do. You’re caring, ambitious, and brave.” 

“Yeah, don’t listen to what they say. We’ll prove them wrong when we form our own nation one day.”

Tommy’s sullen expression slowly melted into a smile, “yeah, I’d like that. You’d be the president.”

Tubbo grinned back at Tommy, “and you’ll be my trusty vice president and (y/n)’ll be our Secretary of State. We’ll rule together.”

“Our nation would be a place for people to escape tyranny and injustice. Somewhere where men could live free, you two would be amazing leaders.”

“What do we call it though is the question,” Tubbo hummed in thought.

“How about ‘Manberg’?”

You looked at your twin with half lidded, exhausted eyes, “I like it, but it needs more… pizazz. How about L’manberg?”

You watched as he smiled widely at the stars, “it’s perfect.”

Watching the sunrise together on the balcony wrapped in blankets

Sleeping on the rest of the way back home

Best sleep of your life

When you wake up (about an hour or so away from home), you see that there’s blankets over you three and you had your head on Tubbo’s shoulder, Tubbo had his leaned up against the seat behind him, and Tommy’s cheek was squished against the window

You stretch out your limbs a bit trying not to disturb the two beside you

Checking your phone to see pictures of you three sleeping sent into the family group chat with Kristin replying with a bunch of heart emojis

You send the videos and pictures you took along the way of you, Tommy, and Tubbo doing stupid things in the hotel room and in the car

If you looked in the middle row, you could see Wilbur watching the scenery pass by out the window with his earbuds in

Techno is reading one of his books (you have no idea how he doesn’t get car sick)

Phil and Kristin are talking lowly to each other holding hands on the center counsel 

Soft radio music is playing in the background

Life is good

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[fruitcoops]

hey! idk if you've seen that cut video about how couples sleep together but i just cant stop thinking about the team doing it. It would be SO cute with your amazing writing :))

Thank you! I absolutely adore this video and I’ve watched it probably twenty times--each couple is just so cute! Quick disclaimer: while this may seem a little odd, since the Lions are basically celebrities, I think the channel wanted to do it to show the diversity of the team and emphasize love above everything else. Hope you enjoy!

“Hey, Lions!” Marlene says cheerfully, waving to the camera. She stands alone in the studio for once. “We have something a little different for you today. Four of the couples on the team agreed to let us record them sleeping for a night, which we’ve combined with short interviews from each of them. Hope you enjoy!”

The video cuts and a title card appears, reading Couple Number One: James and Lily Potter.

Their bedroom is moderately sized, with a crib at the foot of the bed and a fluffy red comforter that accents their walls. James is partially visible as he brushes his teeth, but Lily is fully in frame in her oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants while she climbs into bed with Harry in her arms.

“How long have you been together?” Marlene asks in a voiceover.

“We’ve been married for just over six months,” James’ voice says; on the screen, he walks out of the bathroom and tucks his legs up to kiss the tops of Lily and Harry’s heads. “But we dated for several years before that.”

“What time do you normally go to bed?”

“Maybe eight? Eight-thirty?” Lily says. Sure enough, the clock on their nightstand reads 8:07. “We stay up after the baby’s gone to sleep, though.”

“What story are we doing tonight, kiddo?” James asks, pressing a raspberry kiss to Harry’s belly until baby giggles fill the bedroom. “How about…Make Way For Ducklings?”

“Ducky!” Harry squeals, reaching for his glasses.

“Alright, baby love.” Lily smiles as she takes a book of the nightstand and opens it up.

“Would you say you sleep well?” Marlene asks.

“Oh, that’s a tough question,” James says—in the bedroom, he and Lily take turns reading pages to Harry as he sits between them and points to the ducks. “It’s better now that he can sleep through the night. I’d say we get a solid seven hours each night, maybe more.”

“I wake up pretty often because I worry,” Lily adds.

“Do either of you talk in your sleep?”

She laughs. “No, thankfully. Once we’re out, we’re out until morning.”

“What’s your body language like?”

“I’m cuddly,” James says with a light laugh. In the video, he wraps an arm around Lily’s shoulders and traces the picture book with one finger, kissing Harry’s chubby baby hand. “She likes to starfish.”

“We’re both big cuddlers,” Lily agrees. The video skips forward in time, showing Lily lowering Harry into his crib while James grabs his phone off the nightstand and squints at it.

They curl up together while the clock continues to tick, and an hour or so later they put their phones away and snuggle under the covers. The night goes on and, slowly, Lily begins to splay out on the mattress, her hair in every direction as James keeps one arm securely around her waist. During a brief pause, their snoring harmonizes.

Harry wakes up just past four with a sniffle and babbles for a moment until James stands up, taking him out of his crib and humming softly as he bounces him; Lily barely flinches. “Baba,” Harry mumbles while he holds on to the edge of James’ shirt. “Baba, baba, baba.”

“Shh, buddy.” James touches their forehead together before setting him back down in the crib. “Sweet dreams. I love you.”

Marlene’s voiceover comes on again as the sun rises outside their window. “What time do you usually wake up?”

“James gets up earlier than I do for practice,” Lily says. A soft alarm jingles on the nightstand and James clumsily turns it off, scrubbing at his eyes for a second before digging his glasses out of the nightstand and sitting up—he leans over to kiss Lily’s forehead before getting up for real.

“Around seven, seven-thirty usually,” James confirms. “I don’t actually know what time you get up most weekdays.”

“Oh, probably eight-thirty or nine? Once Harry’s up, I’m up.”

Marlene hums. “How important is your bedroom to you? What about your bed?”

“Both are so important.” James doesn’t hesitate. “Evenings and nights are the longest period of time we spend together because of my job.”

“It’s a very safe space,” Lily says. “Life is so hectic, but once we’re in bed we don’t have to go anywhere else.”

The bedroom disappears—Lily and James sit in chairs in the Lion Pride studio with Marlene across from them. “Thanks so much for joining us today, you guys!” she says with a smile. “I’m really looking forward to filming this video.”

 Couple Number Two: Kasey Winter and Natalie Darcy

Their bedroom is smaller than the Potters’ and painted light blue with large windows. Outside, night has fallen and the light of the city shines through their blinds as Kasey closes them; Natalie is already in bed, reading a paperback with her legs crossed on top of the blankets.

Kasey turns the light off and climbs in next to her, resting his head on her thigh as he dozes off and she continues to read by her bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Natalie smiles and runs her fingers through his hair.

“How long have you been together?” Marlene asks.

“We’ve been dating for four years now,” Kasey’s voice says. In their bedroom, the video speeds up until eleven thirty, when Natalie puts her book down and settles into Kasey’s arms.

“Do you go to bed early or late? It’s just the two of you, right?”

“Right. Kase likes going to bed before me because he has to get up earlier, but I’m a night owl.”

“Does that make it hard for you to sleep well?”

“Not at all,” Kasey says. “She sleeps like a log and I’m always careful not to wake her up on workdays. We like to sleep in on days off.”

Marlene hums in agreement. “Do either of you talk in your sleep?”

“Nope. I’m a light sleeper, so it’s nice that neither of us do it.”

The video continues through the night and sure enough, the only sound is their soft breathing; Natalie presses against Kasey’s chest with an arm over his shoulders. “What’s your body language like when you sleep? Are you cuddlers?”

“I love cuddles!” Kasey says with an almost-audible smile. Sure enough, he snuggles into Natalie with a soft sigh as the clock on their wall turns to 4 am.

“How many hours of sleep do you get every night?” Marlene asks.

They take a moment to think, and the sun begins to shine through their bedroom window. “Ten to six am is…about eight hours? I can get by on six, though.”

“I need a solid eight, eight and a half to function,” Natalie says. “Though sometimes I’ll get up and do something before going back to bed until nine.”

“How important is your bedroom to you?”

“That’s a good question.” Kasey hums in thought. “I value it a lot because it’s a place to be close to her, and that’s hard to get when we’re both so busy.”

“I agree.”

On screen, Kasey’s alarm begins to ring and he stretches, gently detaching Natalie’s hold and kissing her shoulder as he pulls the blankets up to her chin and slides out of bed. “Have a good day, baby,” she mumbles sleepily.

“Love you,” he whispers back as he brushes her hair out of her eyes.

The video cuts; Kasey and Natalie have taken James and Lily’s places. “Thanks for agreeing to do this, guys!” Marlene says.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Natalie says with a slight smile.

 Couple Number 3: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin

The third bedroom is cluttered and neat at the same time. Knickknacks line the dresser and various items are scattered on the nightstand, but the floor is clean and the dark blue bedspread is tidy as Remus reads against the headboard. On the other side of the room, Sirius stops midway through brushing his teeth to change into a sleep shirt and Remus laughs at his muffled grumbling.

“How long have you been together?” Marlene asks again in her voiceover.

“We’ve been dating for over a year now,” Remus says.

“What time do you go to bed?”

“Oh, maybe ten pm? Eleven?” Sirius guesses. “Whenever we’re tired.”

The clock reads ten forty-five as Sirius gets under the covers and wraps his arms around Remus’ torso, cuddling against his waist and leg while Remus strokes his hair. Ten minutes pass until he puts the book down and turns off the light before scooting back against Sirius’ chest to be the little spoon. “Love you,” he says quietly.

Sirius kisses behind his ear. “Je t’aime.”

“What’s your body language like when you sleep?” Marlene asks. “Cap, everyone knows about your famous cuddles.”

He snorts. “Usually we spoon, but sometimes it changes up.”

“We kind of have to spoon,” Remus laughs. “You’d wake up on the floor otherwise.”

“I would not!” Sirius protests. In the video, an hour has passed, and he unconsciously tries to roll over Remus, who reaches up and pushes his shoulder back without opening his eyes. He shifts a few more times before settling down.

“Do you talk in your sleep as well?” Marlene continues.

Remus sighs. “No, that would be me.”

“It’s cute and awful at the same time,” Sirius says. “On one hand, it wakes me up, but on the other, we have the best conversations.”

At 2:12 am, Remus scrunches his nose up in his sleep. “Hey. Hey.”

Sirius huffs and cracks an eye open. “Quoi?”

“Go away.”

There’s a pause and Sirius sits up, clearly still half-asleep. “Huh?”

“The cat’s in the garden, dumbass. That cat—the cat is in the garden.”

With a heavy sigh, Sirius gets under the covers again and wraps his arms around Remus. “Okay, mon coeur.”

“Blueberry milkshake.”

“That doesn’t exist.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Shut up, Pots, nobody asked you.” Remus says playfully, then hums and pulls Sirius closer. “Bonjour, honey. Je t’aime.”

In the voiceover, Marlene laughs. “What do you two talk about?”

“Oh, everything,” Sirius replies.

An hour and a half passes in fast motion on screen; they move around a little bit, but overall stay cuddled up and comfortable. “The tea. Honey, the tea. Tea’s burning.”

Sirius reaches over and puts his hand over Remus’ mouth gently. “Shhh.”

“Tea’s burning,” Remus repeats, though his voice is muffled until he bats Sirius’ hand away. “Hugs and kisses, hugs and kisses.”

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s the meaning of life?”

Remus is quiet for a beat. “Pun’kin pie.”

“Why do you talk in your sleep?”

“I love you.”

“How could we have done better in our last game?” Sirius is grinning now and rubbing slow circles over Remus’ back. “I was a little worried about our defense.”

“Hmm. Apples.” Remus turns over and nuzzles against Sirius. “See you later, alligator.”

Sirius shakes with suppressed laughter for a moment until the voiceover starts again. “What time do you wake up in the morning?” Marlene asks. “Practice starts pretty early.”

“Sirius wakes up earlier than I do, but we don’t get out of bed until seven-ish,” Remus says, sounding far more awake than he did in the video. “We try to aim for eight hours of sleep, but that doesn’t always happen.”

“How important is your bedroom?”

Sunlight streams through the cracks in the blinds at six am, lighting up Remus’ face on one side as Sirius starts to wake up. He pauses with a smile and runs his thumb along Remus’ cheek before kissing his forehead and settling onto his back.

“Our bedroom is really important,” Sirius answers. “It’s a safe space where there’s no pressure to do anything and we can just be ourselves.”

Remus smacks his alarm at six-thirty and starts sitting up, only for Sirius to wrap all four limbs around him and drag him back down for more cuddles; Remus laughs, but happily obliges. The camera cuts out just as they start getting out of bed half an hour later.

“Thanks for answering my questions,” Marlene says with a grin. “I gotta say, I’m looking forward to the sleep talking.”

“It’s so funny,” Sirius snickers.

Remus rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Exploit me in my most vulnerable state, why don’t you?”

 Couple Number 4: Pascal and Celeste Dumais

“We have been married for fifteen years,” Dumo says as the video begins.

Celeste is already out cold in the bed while he tiptoes around their bedroom, sliding in next to her as quietly as possible; she smiles in her sleep and scoots over to lay her head on his shoulder. It’s clearly a comfortable place for them—the walls are a warm beige and a colorful quilt lays heavy across the sheets.

“Do you sleep well?”

“Sometimes,” Celeste says. “We sleep better now that the kids are older, but I wake up a lot in the middle of the night because I still worry about them.”

“How many hours of sleep do you think you get?”

“Oh, probably seven? I go to bed early, though.”

“I get a steady six to eight,” Dumo says.

“Do you sleepwalk or talk?”

Celeste laughs as Dumo groans. “He used to sleepwalk, but after the kids were born there wasn’t enough consistent sleep to do it anymore.”

In the dark of their bedroom, Dumo moves around quite a lot—he rolls onto his back, then his side, then curls around Celeste, then lays a little bit sideways before she quietly shushes him just past 3 am and puts her hand on his chest. He sighs and leans his head against hers with a drowsy half-smile.

“Do you cuddle?” Marlene asks.

“Sometimes,” Dumo says. “Though we’ve been together for so long that we don’t really have to. I always know where she is.”

“That’s adorable,” Marlene says at the same time Celeste makes a soft sound of affection. “What time do you wake up?”

There is one window in their bedroom, high on the western wall, that shows the slowly-lightening sky. When the clock strikes six, both of them stretch and roll onto their backs, though they stay close enough to share body heat as Dumo combs his fingers through Celeste’s long hair.

“Around six. It’s easier to get up early now that we’re older,” Dumo says. “Besides, the kids don’t get up until later, so we finally get some time to ourselves.”

“Bonjour, mon amour,” Celeste murmurs in the video with a sleepy smile, pressing kisses to Dumo’s cheek. “Hmm, je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime, ma jolie chérie.”

The video returns to the studio after that; Dumo and Celeste hold hands while they talk, and Marlene puts away her notecards with a smile. “Thank you for agreeing to do this, it means a lot. We tried to get a variety of different couples for this and I’m sure the video will turn out great.”

“Ne rien. Good luck with filming!”

A final title card appears. Thanks for watching, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe for more content.

[lihikainanea]

The Accident - Part 2

Oh, hi there. Do you like...need something? Are you waiting on me for something? Whatever could it be? 

:-P

This is one of my longest pieces for them, Parts 1 and 2 clocking in at somewhere around 17,000 words.

Tiger has a car accident and has some pretty lasting damage.

Trigger warnings: there’s mention of a car accident, a few broken bones, and of course, the after effects of the accident. I didn’t go into detail on any of it but as always, if you think I missed a trigger or if you’re not sure and have questions before you read, just shoot me a line :-)

This one was a long time coming so I hope you enjoy. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for being so loud about it when I needed the support and encouragement to finish it.

Part One is here.

Thank you guys, for loving these two idiots as much as I do. Enjoy, and be loud if you love it xoxo

****

You swore that you had never seen any of these people before in your life. You knew that Bill had spoken to them beforehand, warned them that you looked a little banged up and that you wouldn’t recognize anybody, and while part of you was annoyed the other part was pretty thankful. He hadn’t mentioned it to you, but he had also warned them that you got frustrated and overwhelmed pretty easily, and that you still couldn’t handle loud noises or bright lights. No music, no loud conversations, no coming at you from all angles. They promised him that they would keep it small at the beginning—just the close group of friends—and they would set up quietly in the living room for at least an hour, just chatting and answering any questions you may have before other people arrived.

“There’s going to be eight people when we get there,” he had told you in the car, “The rest will come after.”

“I’m nervous,” you admitted softly, fidgeting with your coat, “I want so bad to remember people.”

“You won’t kid,” he said. He had meant it kindly, but you bristled. He sighed.

“Tiger listen to me,” he put the car in park and turned to you, “If at any point you want out—for whatever reason—you say so, okay?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“I mean it,” he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, “Just look at me and like…tug your ear or something. Say pineapple. Anything. Just give me a sign and I’ll get you out, deal?”

He held out his pinky.

“Deal,” you mumbled, hooking your finger around his.

“Seal it,” he commanded. He held his thumb out to tap yours, but instinctively you leaned forward and pressed your lips softly to his. When you pulled away, you were both wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered, “I don’t know why I just did that.”

“No no, it’s okay,” he grinned wide and happy, “That’s uh, how we used to seal it. Good job, kid.”

“Right, of course we used to kiss to seal it,” you sighed, but there was some humour behind it, “Look bud, maybe there’s still a lot I need to learn about us, but it sounds like we got some shit we need to figure out.”

His wry smile ended the conversation, as you unbuckled your seat belt and took a deep breath.

Your friends were incredible about the entire thing. The music was on very low when you walked in, nobody rushing to greet you but instead saying a polite hello and giving you space. Bill took your jacket from you, hanging it up in the hallway closet before leading you to the living room. Your friends were gathered there—sitting on the floor, on the sofas, on chairs placed across the room. You wondered how to break into conversation, but Bill eased you into a chair and put a hand on your shoulder.

“So we figured it would be helpful,” he started, “If everyone just re-introduced themselves to you. These are our closest friends, tiger.”

You surveyed the group, kind faces and easy smiles staring back at you.

“That would be great,” you gave a sheepish shrug, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of you.”

Your comment wasn’t met with judgment, and thankfully you noted that it wasn’t met with pity either; just understanding nods and reassuring smiles. Bill took a seat next to you and you shot him a grateful look, but there was a clambering as someone—a guy, not as tall as Bill but still somewhat handsome—dove for the seat on your other side. He smiled at you but it instantly made you uncomfortable—something in the way he leered, the way he kept his gaze fixated on you, struck a bad chord. You shrugged it off, focusing on the person speaking as they went around one by one to introduce themselves. They told you a bit about who they were, how you had met, what they did in life. You snickered at some of the memories of you they shared, looking to Bill who would nod in confirmation that it did indeed happen.

But sure enough, when it came around to the man on your right, as he introduced himself he placed a hand high on your thigh and squeezed. You stiffened immediately, a jolt of discomfort shooting through you for a reason you couldn’t name, and you grabbed onto his wrist and lifted it from your leg.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said curtly, placing his hand back by his side.

Not wanting to overwhelm you or make you feel like you were the centre of attention, after initial introductions were made, the small crowd dispersed to mingle amongst themselves. You chatted with a few of them and your heart swelled at how kind they seemed to be—you felt safe. Nobody was judging you, nobody looked worried or anxious around you, nobody regarded you strangely when you would ask them for details about your own life. Bill always stayed in your line of vision but didn’t hover, even allowing himself to relax a little when he heard your laughter ring crisp through the air.

It was only when you took a small break from chatting; when your stomach rumbled so you headed to the snack table, grabbing a chip and scooping it through the dip—that you heard him call out.

“Tiger wait!” Bill said rushing to you. You paused, your mouth open in preparation for a bite, your hand stilled in mid-air.

“What did I do?” You asked cautiously. 

“You hate green onions kid,” Bill said. You looked at the chip, drenched in the dip and absolutely smothered in green onions.

“Maybe—” another male voice rang out behind you, and before you could even turn around there was an arm around your shoulder, “Maybe we let her decide what she likes, for once.”

It was the same guy as before, the one who just seemed a little too close or a little too forward. It was the first time you had ever seen Bill actually look mean—his shoulders squared, he stood just a little taller, his jaw clenched and the glare in his eyes was terrifying. You didn’t remember who this guy was, you honestly couldn’t say how you had felt about him before—but in that moment, you hated him. You hated him just for the sheer reaction that he seemed to incite in Bill.

“Try them,” the guy coaxed, knocking your hand gently, “You’re a whole new girl now. Maybe there are things you’ll start to like, some things you’ll stop liking too.”

Bill’s jaw ticked. You watched his reaction carefully, how alert he seemed, how angry he seemed—and you trusted it. You didn’t know why, but you did.

“Okay, first of all,” you grabbed the guy’s arm, lifting it from your shoulders, “First of all, I trust Bill. I hate green onions. Second of all, stop touching me.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, “We used to do this all the time.”

You didn’t look to Bill for confirmation—you didn’t need to. If you had, you may have seen the way his fists clenched, the fire that flashed in his eyes. But it wasn’t even necessary.

“I doubt that,” you snapped, glaring at the guy. He huffed a little, gave a cocky smirk, before turning and getting lost in the small crowd.

“Thank you,” you said to Bill, and his shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath. Still holding the chip in your hand, you grabbed his arm and dragged him to an empty room, closing the door behind you.

“Tiger is everything—“

“I still want to try this,” you held up the chip, “I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

Bill smiled, a big one that relaxed his whole face, and shook his head wistfully.

“Go on then. But for the record, when you get your memory back, you cannot blame me for it,” he chuckled.

“I hate green onions?” You asked, for confirmation.

“Tiger, hate is too gentle of a word.”

“I trust you. But I’m still curious, so…” you trailed off, popping the chip in your mouth. Bill pursed his lips to stop the snicker, crossing his arms as you chewed thoughtfully.

“I mean, I don’t hate them right now,” you said after awhile, “I don’t love them, but I don’t hate them. I’m…indifferent.”

“Noted,” he smirked, “I feel like I should have caught that moment on video.”

And you couldn’t resist—that boyish smile on his lips, the protective streak you had seen in action. You quickly tugged on his shirt, dragging him down for a deep kiss. His hands came to rest on your hips, squeezing softly, but all too soon—you heard him inhale sharply, a soft moan to it, and he pulled away.

“We should get back,” he mumbled. You nodded, a little disappointed.

And maybe it was that you were finally getting to see Bill in a situation surrounded by other people—the way he still always looked out for you, the way you caught him glancing around the room every once in awhile looking for you. You saw how everybody genuinely seemed to like him, how much he stood out from the rest of your friends. Maybe it was the way that you recognized how safe you felt in his presence—especially around other people. You caught yourself actively looking for him too, seeking him out just for that reassuring smile of his or that small boost of confidence you got from it. Maybe it was the way that he checked in with you so often that night, making sure you were okay, that you felt alright and you weren’t getting too overwhelmed. It might have been the way that this was the first time you had seen him in nicer clothes; jeans that hugged his long legs so perfectly, a fitted long sleeved shirt that was rolled to his elbows. He was cleanly shaven, his sharp jaw line making his profile unmistakable. A loose curl flopped casually on his forehead and you found yourself trying to hold back from giving it a playful tug. He smelled fantastic, he looked even better, and the way he calmly fussed or looked out for you the entire evening had caused a knot to start forming in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe it was also the recollection of a real good dream a few nights before, one involving him that seemed more like a memory than a dream—the way he knew your body, the way he knew what you liked. Maybe it was the comfort and the warmth that you remembered from a few nights ago, when you had crawled into his bed—how safe you felt, how comforted you were. Maybe it was the soft press of his lips against yours both that night and this night in the car before you entered the party, how warm and timid and plush his lips were. Maybe it was the kiss that ended far too soon, earlier in the night.

Either way, whatever it was, by the end of the night—your body was screaming for it.

You had tugged on his sleeve when you had enough at the get-together—more people were arriving, the noise was getting louder, and your stress levels were starting to rise.

“Time to go?” He said immediately when you appeared at his side. You nodded—and within an instant he had your coats, calling out a general goodbye to the crowd, and then you were safe in the car and on your way home. 

But he was just so close—you could still smell the faint scent of his cologne, and you tried to listen as he murmured soft praises to you. That he was proud of you, that you had done so well, that this was a big step. You drank all of it in—his velvet voice with the soft lilt to it, the beauty of his profile, his big hand on the stick shift as he confidently switched gears. After awhile, it got to be too much—so you reached out, resting a hand gently on top of his.

“Thank you,” you said, “For tonight. And for uh, everything.”

And there it was again, the small dimple in his cheek, his boyish lopsided grin. By the time he had parked in front of your place, by the time he had put a hand on your back to lead you gently up the stairs—you couldn’t take it anymore. You were ready to explode.

“Bill, um…” you stammered. His brows furrowed in concern but when he tucked a knuckle under your chin, raising it to meet his eyes—you lost control. Fisting a hand in his shirt, you pulled him down and crushed your lips to his. He squeaked in surprise but you didn’t let up, stepping into his chest as you pulled him closer. You moved your lips firmly against his, his hands coming up to rest on your hips before looping around your back, crushing you to him as you moaned into it. Your feet lifted off the ground as he pressed you more into him and you returned his fervour, raking your hand through his hair.

“Tiger wait,” he broke away suddenly and you wobbled, “We can’t.”

“Yes we can,” you said breathlessly, launching at him again. He stumbled back as he caught you, your mouth slamming onto his in another heated kiss. You tugged at his jacket, pulling it from his shoulders before you grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to pull it up.

“Tiger,” he stopped, actually pushing you away from him to put distance between the both of you. He dragged his hands over his face, letting out a shaky breath that sounded more like a wheeze. “No.”

“Yes,” you insisted, stepping towards him but he took a step back, “Bill, I want to.”

He held up his hands when you reached for him again.

“Tiger, no. We’re not doing this. I’m not having sex with you. You don’t even remember how you feel about me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed, “I’m sure I was attracted to you before. But regardless, I can tell you one thing, I’m sure as fuck attracted to you now.”

“Tiger—”

“No. Listen to me, Bill,” you interrupted, holding your hand up authoritatively. “You are hot as hell. You really are. And you’re very kind. And frankly—I need to get my bell rung real good.  Real good. There’s a lot of…needy feelings happening in me right now that I need to get out. The fact that I don’t remember having sex with you does not at all take away from the fact that I want to have sex with you right now.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he mumbled lowly.

“How is this taking advantage of me?” You asked,  “People have one night stands all the time. I don’t need to know you to have sex with you. The fact that we do have a history is just an added bonus.”

“Tiger—“

“Bill, look. It really is this simple. I do not remember ever having sex with you. But you are very attractive, and I am very attracted to you, and I would like to have sex with you right now. I’m horny. I need to get laid. And it can either be you, or it can be that guy at the party who seemed pretty enthusiastic about touching me. I’m offering it up to you first. Who’s it gonna be?” You challenged.

Bill’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh it’s gonna be me kid,” he seethed, “It’s gonna only be me.”

It was all that you needed, before you launched yourself at him and yanked his shirt over his head.

“Promise me that you want this kid,” he urged between heated kisses.

“I want this,” you murmured against his lips.

“Promise me that you’re genuinely attracted to me,” he whispered, nipping at your top lip.

“Bill, I want to fuck your brains out. Me. Right now. With zero memories. This girl, right here, wants to be all over that.”

He groaned, grabbing your face in his hands as he pressed his mouth to yours. God, he could kiss. His lips soft but insistent, his tongue flicking across your bottom lip to gain entrance. You moaned into it as he squeezed at your hips, lifting you and carrying you to bed as he pressed his weight down into you.

“Tiger,” he pulled away breathlessly, “Are you sure this is—“

“Show me what I used to like,” you nipped at his chin, grabbed his hand and brought it under your shirt. His eyes stayed closed, his chest heaving with the air he was trying to get in. You nipped at his lips, pulled him down into another forceful kiss as you raised your hips to grind into his, He groaned into your mouth, his hand trailing up your rib cage.

“You used to like it when I did….this”  he broke from you, bringing his lips down and sucking gently at your neck as you drew in a sharp breath.

“And you have a real sweet spot right…here,” a flick of his tongue had you gasping, and he bit down on the sensitive area while you grinded against him. He sucked a deep mark into your neck and you moaned, but you needed his mouth on you again. You tilted your face and he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re also really sensitive when I do this,” his palm cupped your breast through your bra, and you moaned softly. He squeezed, kneading you through the material as his lips caught yours again. His hand was so big, so warm and gentle, and you squeezed your knees together as you started to feel a knot low in your belly.

“Off,” you pleaded against his lips, “Get it off.”

He raised back on his haunches and you saw the effect you were having on him—his eyes crazed, the bulge tenting the front of his jeans. It had been so long for him, so long since he had felt you, that he wasn’t sure he would make it all the way through. Pulling his shirt off, he reached for yours and got it over your head. You fumbled with your bra but he moved your hands away, popping it open and you quickly threw the material off as he worked to get your pants unbuttoned and off. You reached for him again, grabbing his hands as you pushed your breasts into his palms and pulled him back down on top of you.

“God tiger,” he moaned into your mouth, “I’ve missed you.”

His hands felt so good on your chest, kneading softly and rolling your nipples between his thumbs. You gasped when he pinched softly, moving his lips down to suck on the hollow of your collarbone. He waited until you relaxed before he pinched again, a little harder this time, rolling your nipples through his fingers.

“I really used to like…” he placed suckling kisses down your sternum, nuzzling the underside of your breast with his nose before brushing his lips over it, “Doing this.”

He dragged his tongue over your nipple before enclosing his mouth around it. You groaned and shot forward but he pushed you back, his other hand continuing to pinch and knead while he sucked on your pebbled bud. He nipped at it softly, flicking his tongue over it before blowing on it and moving to the next one. You grinded your hips against whatever you could reach, tangling your hands in his hair as his warm mouth surrounded your other nipple. You whimpered, reaching your own hand down between your legs to try and ease some of the tension but he quickly grabbed it with his, intertwining your fingers.

“All in good time sweet girl,” he purred, “I want you nice and wet for me.”

You whined, trying to get some friction and he rolled his hips against yours as he trailed his mouth down. He nipped gently at your lower belly, dipping his tongue into your navel.

“This is one of my favourites,” he murmured into your skin, “You’re always so soft here.”

 He kissed along your lower stomach, one warm hand running over your body while the other one stayed tangled with yours. He licked at the waistband of your panties, nuzzled your mound, and it snapped you to attention. Before you could stop him, he buried his nose in the seam of your panties and inhaled deeply—you jerked in surprise but the groan he let out was feral. Out of instinct you moved to shut your legs but one hand grabbed onto your thigh, keeping them open.

“Um,” you looked down at him shyly, squirmy just a little, “You don’t have to…uh…”

He smiled, genuine and lopsided, and nipped playfully at your inner thigh.

“You said the exact same thing the first time we ever slept together,” another suckling kiss to your thigh, the brush of his lips across your panties, “And I’ll tell you the exact same thing that I said then: this is my favourite thing to do for you. To you.”

Your cheeks flushed, you should feel his warm breath on you through the soaked material. Before you could say anything else, he licked a broad stripe up your slit and groaned, resting his nose on your mound.

“God, the way you taste. The way you smell. I need it, kid. Please, can I have it?” He pleaded, looking up at you for confirmation. You bit your lip—you were a little shy, but god he looked like a man on fire. You nodded slowly.

“Use your words tiger,” he prompted.

“Yes,” you mumbled, “Okay.”

He didn’t wait another second. Grabbing the waistband of your panties, he ripped them from you in one yank and then dove forward. It felt like he was everywhere, his tongue wet and warm and firm, licking over you in broad swipes. You gasped and he moaned into you, the vibrations humming through your whole body. You watched him devour you, his eyes closed in pleasure, one hand still gripping your thigh to make sure you stayed nice and open for him. He licked at your entrance, pushing his tongue inside while his nose pressed into you before dragging his tongue up slowly through your folds, sucking his way up.

“Oh god,” you groaned softly, “This is fantastic.”

You squeezed tighter at his hand, relaxing more into the blankets and pushing your legs wider apart. He groaned in response, pressing his face into you more as his lips closed around your clit. He suckled at it, flicking his tongue over it as you twitched. The knot in your stomach was clenching, the groans coming out guttural as you tensed.

“Bill,” you squeaked, “Don’t stop.”

Your leg cramped up and shot out, but his lips stayed gentle and firm around your bud. He suckled with the same pressure, nipping softly at it.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged, and you were rewarded with another deep groan that sent a hum of vibrations through you. Reaching up, he glided his hand over your body and gently pushed two fingers into your mouth. The noise you made was inhuman, shoving your hips up and keeping a death grip on his hand. He gave a few broad licks up your slit, glided his tongue firmly through your folds before moving his attention back to your bud. He flicked over it before sucking it into his mouth harshly, and it was your undoing. With a loud cry you grabbed onto his hair, every muscle in your body tense and your eyes clenched so tightly shut that tears leaked from the corners. You nearly yelled through it, letting it crash into you like a freight train as you gasped. You collapsed onto the bed after it washed over you, your chest heaving and slicked with sweat, your face lax with pleasure.

You felt a soft kiss on your chin, another one on your lips, a gentle hand brushing the hair from your face.

“You okay?” He asked lowly—and you laughed. You let out an incredulous, pleasure-drunk laugh.

“So good,” you groaned, “So, so good.”

You felt him smile into the kiss, and felt another weight on you as he pressed into your body.

“Good,” he said, but he sounded strained, “Tiger, I need you. I really need you. Think you can handle a bit more, sweet girl?”

You opened your eyes lazily.

“Sweet girl,” you murmured, “I like that.”

He smiled again, but his face looked pained. Tense. You nipped at his lip, pulling his hips into yours and he moaned.

“I want more,” you said, “God you’re good at this.”

You helped him drag his jeans and boxers down as he kissed you again forcefully. You reached down and grabbing hold of him to line him up, you stopped abruptly and your eyes widened.

“What is it?” He asked, worried.

“Holy shit, you’re huge,” you blurted out. He laughed boisterously, burying his face in your neck as his chest rumbled.

“And you take it like a champ,” he smiled at you, “We’ll go slow.”

He captured your lips in a deep kiss, one hand keeping a loose hold of your chin while the other hand balanced his weight. He faltered as he pushed into you, his hips stuttering and he broke the kiss with a whimper as he pinched his eyes shut.

“Oh god tiger,” he moaned, “My tiger.”

You shushed him softly, scratching lightly at his back as you tried to relax your muscles to accommodate him. You didn’t remember but your body seemed to, taking him with ease until he bottomed out and rested his chest on yours.

“Bullseye,” he moaned. You wrapped your legs around his waist, relishing in the feel of him inside you—so heavy and deep, pressing against your inner walls in a way that made you want to clench around him. You could feel the beginnings of another release, you could feel that knot deep in your belly again, feel yourself getting wetter with him so deep inside you.

“Move bud,” you begged, “You’ve gotta move.”

Gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists, he kept his weight on you as he rolled his hips forward. His thrusts weren’t hurried, but god they were heavy and deep. He kept it slow, barely pulling back before he was pushing back into you, and you raked your nails down his back. His moans were gravelly and rough, his jaw slack as he tried to prolong his release just a little bit.

“My tiger,” he moaned again, and you pulled him into a heated kiss.

“Deeper Bill,” you begged, and he rolled his hips into yours with more force, slamming into you and you clenched around him. He moaned, the headboard knocking against the wall with every deep thrust.

“You feel so good kid,” he grunted, using his grip on the sheets for leverage as he plunged into you, “So good.”

Your muscles were squeezing him, the filthy sound of how wet you were and the deep drag of your insides were driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but neither were you. The stretch was intense but full of pleasure, the weight of him inside you and the way your body seemed to respond to him. You could barely breathe, couldn’t focus on anything other than the despair you felt when he pulled away and the the insane pleasure you felt when he filled you back up again.

“Give it to me tiger,” he panted, rolling his hips to rub onto your clit, “All over me, come on.”

You were there, your body clenching around him as you tried to drag in a deep breath.

“Now tiger,” he demanded, and you cried out as your nails dug into his back,  dragging them down as you spasmed. He cursed, yelling out as he slammed into you and tensed. His chest nearly crushed you, his hips driving in deep and staying there as his fists clenched in the sheets. He gave a feral cry as you felt him fill you up, his voice giving way to rough, raspy groans as he let it slam into him. His chest heaved as he shook, and he eventually collapsed against you with his face in your neck, whimpering softly as the aftershocks shuddered through him.

You let the silence hang, kept your arms around him as he twitched and tried to catch his breath, your fingers dancing soft patterns over his skin. He eventually started to do the same, his lips leaving soft kisses in your neck, across your cheek, before landing softly on your nose. His eyes were bright, his hair sticking to his forehead, his lips tilted up in the laziest of grins.

“You know,” you started, “I’d be pretty down to do that again. Like, regularly.”

He laughed, and you craned up to kiss him.

“Was it always this good?” You asked him honestly. He went to roll off you but you stayed his movements, pulling him down onto you again. He kissed the corner of your mouth, tracing his finger over some of your features as he rested his weight on you.

“Yes,” he smiled boyishly, “I mean, speaking selfishly of course. It was always that good for me. But you also seemed to always enjoy it the way that you just did.”

“And we….only do this with each other?”

“Mmhmm,” he nuzzled the side of your nose with his.

“I can see why,” you reached for another kiss, “If it’s always this good, of course I’d want to be selfish about it.”

His laugh was breathy and soft, and you scratched lightly at his scalp. He rested his cheek on your chest, smushing his face in as his eyes closed slowly.

“I should get off of you,” he slurred. You just hummed, continuing to run your fingers through his hair.

“Why? This is nice,” you murmured, “I have therapy tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” his speech was slack jawed and warbled, “Afternoon. Then dinner with my family.”

You nodded, kissing his head.

“Thank you for tonight, bud. I really enjoyed it,” you mumbled, “All of it.”

But the only thing you heard was his soft snore, his mouth hanging open as his breaths evened out.

It was the first time you had slept through the night, the first time that your dreams left you alone, and the first time that a blinding headache wasn’t the first thing you felt when you woke up. Instead there was just a warmth, a weighted comfort that just seemed to envelop you completely. You shifted, sighing a little as the warm weight on your stomach started to rub back and forth.

“Go slow,” a deep voice murmured. You couldn’t help it, you curled up into the warmth more—seeking it out and tucking into it, nuzzling your nose into soft skin, as a hand stroked at your back and a soft pair of lips dotted whispery kisses across your face.

“We slept in a bit sweet girl,” the gravelly voice said and you almost purred, “We have to go to your therapy session soon.”

“Five more minutes,” you grumbled, and the rumble in his chest vibrated against your cheek.

“I wish we could kid,” he tapped your bottom lightly, “But we’ll be late, come on.”

It was a struggle. A struggle to open your eyes and not pout about it. A struggle to drag your tired body out of the warm blankets, away from the other warm body, and to get dressed. When the cool air nipped at your face on your way into the clinic, you huddled further into your jacket and grumbled.

“Go on,” he said, “I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”

Without hesitation, you kissed him briefly and then greeted your doctor as she ushered you into the room.

“Things seem to be going well?” She started, and you shrugged your coat off.

“Yes and no,” you sighed, “Yes, because he really is just…amazing. But no, because I still can’t remember shit.”

“What have you tried so far, to trigger your memory?”

“I ask him about me, like you said,” you told her as she scribbled notes, “He tells me a lot about who I was, what I used to like. We tried eating all the meals I used to love, and he tells me about why I love them or when I first tried them. We tried photo albums, but nothing got triggered there. I met my group of friends last night—good people—they shared some stories too, but nothing kickstarted my brain.”

“I see,” she said calmly, “What else?”

“We tried watching movies I used to love,” you chewed your lip in thought as you tried to remember, “He took me to a few places around town I used to enjoy. We got into old habits and routine, doing what we used to do on weekends together and whatnot. But nothing is working.”

“Routine is good,” she said, “It can be any number of things, that will prove to be your trigger. Sometimes the portion of our brains responsible for our memories can be given a much-needed kickstart by routine. By repeatedly doing the exact things that we used to repeatedly do. Sometimes, patients suddenly wake up one day and they just…remember. Sometimes it’s triggered by trauma. Any number of things can be responsible, so don’t lose hope and keep trying.”

“Trauma?” You asked cautiously.

“Unfortunately,” she continued, “The memories we have are only held in one place in our brain. A reaction to a past trauma is an incredibly intense thing to go through, and sometimes it reactivates every single part of our brain, including sections that were malfunctioning. A past trauma, a memory of a past trauma, or something that reminds you of a past trauma—whether or not you remember the incident—can trigger your memory to come back.”

“That sounds awful,” you mumbled, “God I hope it just comes back by like, eating spaghetti or something. If it ever comes back.”

“Have hope,” she smiled reassuringly, “You’re doing all the right things.”

True to his word, when you emerged from the room an hour and a half later and significantly more tired, he was there waiting and wrapped you up in a comforting hug.

“That one was hard,” you mumbled into his chest, and he squeezed you tighter.

“Tiger, if you just want to relax tonight—”

“No,” you interrupted, “I have to keep trying. And I want to meet them, so let’s not overthink this. Let’s just go.”

He nodded, tucking you under his arm as he led you to the car. You reached for his hand as he drove, pulling it into your lap and enclosing it in both of yours. It earned you a side glance, that soft smile that you loved.

“Are you nervous?” He asked.

“No,” you said truthfully, “I was more nervous to meet our friends. I’m…excited to meet your family. Again.”

You chuckled softly at the last part, squeezing his hand tighter.

“There’s 8 of them, you said?” You ran your thumb over his knuckles—his hand was huge, but it was always so warm.

“Yes, we’re 7 brothers and one girl. They won’t all be there today, though.”

“And you said some of them were actors too?” You asked.

“Four of us,” he nodded, “And dad. They’re all here today. One brother is a doctor, you’ll meet him too. The other two are very young. My sister works as a restaurant manager, but she’s back in Stockholm.”

“And are they all uh, tall like you?”  You snickered.

“Oh god no,” Bill laughed and you sighed in relief, “….they’re taller.”

“How is that even possible? Family of giants.”

“Yeah something like that,” he pulled his hand loosely from yours, shifting the car into park and undoing his seatbelt.

“You ready kid?��� He asked, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Yeah, let’s meet this circus.”

“Tiger, if at any point—“

“I know bud,” you interrupted, “I’ll give you a sign if I need to get out of there.”

He nodded, hesitating a moment before leaning forward in his seat. You met him halfway, gently pressing your lips to his and giving a tug to the curl on his forehead. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you laced your fingers with his as he led you up the long walkway. With one last look to you, and with your reassuring nod back, he opened up the door.

It was calmer than what you expected a household with that many inhabitants to be, but when Bill opened the door you were met with something akin to peace. It smelled delicious, wafts from the kitchen infiltrating the hallway and entrance area. In the living room you could hear someone plinking on a guitar, a soundtrack of soft jazz playing behind them. The house was bright but calm, natural sunlight filtering in, the entranceway painted a warm neutral tone and dotted with wooden accents. Bill rested his hands on your shoulders and you shrugged off your coat, handing it to him to hang up as he took your hand. To your relief, nobody had run up to greet you just yet—you had no doubts that he had warned them too, had told them beforehand that you needed to take it slow.

“They’re in the living room,” he answered your unasked question, “Come on.”

Taking your hand, he led you across a soft carpet and into a white open space—it was beautiful. Thick cable knit blankets adorned plush couches, minimalist accents, linear art on the walls—and three very, very big men strewn across sofas that looked miniature sized under their long bodies.

“Everyone,” Bill called softly, “Look who’s here.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to you, and you had to shake your head softly to make sure you were seeing clearly. They all looked like varying shades of the exact same person, each with distinct features but still all so identical. The blond one had Bill’s eyes, had his exact nose that you had come to love. The one with whispers of a beard on his chin had an immediate warmth about him, a kindness and peaceful presence that so resembled Bill’s. The older looking blond one had the same smirk, the same twinkle of mischief and mirth in his face that you would sometimes see on Bill.

“Oh my,” you said softly. Instinctively you reached a hand up, feeling for Bill behind you and he stepped into your space. You rested your hand on his chest, making sure he was still there. “You are all very large.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth in embarrassment at the comment that slipped out but you were met with soft chuckles as they all stood and made their way slowly to you.

“In order of age,” Bill said, “This is Alex, my oldest brother.”

Alex stepped forward, opening his arms widely and it seemed so natural and comfortable that you didn’t hesitate to step into them.

“Gentle,” Bill warned his brother, “She’s still all banged up.”

And the giant was gentle. He hugged you with caution, bending at the knees to be able to, and he kissed your cheek softly as he pulled away.

“Good to see you again,” he said.

“I don’t remember you,” you mumbled, “I’m sorry. But it’s nice to meet you, Bill version beta.”

Alex chuckled, gave Bill a knowing glance and stepped aside.

“This is Gustaf,” Bill introduced the next brother, and you liked this one. They all seemed nice, but this one had…something about him. You saw every bit of Bill’s gentle spirit, his softness, his caring in this one. Just like his brother before, Gustaf leaned down and wrapped his arms gently around you.

“Glad to have you back,” he murmured when he pulled away, “We have much to catch up on.”

"I don’t remember you either, Bill version beta 2.0,” you mumbled embarassed, but he squeezed your shoulders.

“Then how lucky am I, to be able to re-introduce myself to you,” he said kindly. Oh, you liked this one indeed. You also liked the warm, caring smile he shot Bill—the way he reached out and hugged his little brother too, ruffled his hair. The smile on Bill’s face told you everything you needed to know about their relationship.

“And this one,” Bill said as the blonde one came in front of you, “Is Valter.”

“Walter?” You asked innocently.

“With a V, genius,” the blond one snapped. You were a little taken aback, but he had spunk—you appreciated that. Bill muttered something in Swedish behind you—something that sounded angry—but Valter just cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t remember you,” you smirked, “And I think I’m pretty glad about that.”

It earned you some good natured chuckles from the band of brothers, and Valter still bent at the knees and hugged you.

“Whatever you say Dory,” he shot back, “You won’t remember me in another 30 seconds anyway.”

Another angry remark in Swedish from Bill, but you genuinely laughed. You appreciated Bill’s devoted care, but it was also nice to be treated a little more…normally. To be treated as if you weren’t made of glass.

“I thought you said there were four bud?” You asked as you pulled away, “Where’s the other one?”

“Probably cooking,” he took a few strides away, peering down the hallway. “Sam! Tiger’s here.”

You heard the footsteps, but your back was turned as you made some small talk with the brothers.

“Tiger,” Bill said, “This is my brother, Sam.”

You turned, and the moment you saw his face, a bright, white-hot flash of pain shot through your head. That face—that man—you knew that man. Your mind raced, your heart sped up, and suddenly—flash after flash of bright lights, searing pain. Memories, conversations, laughter—all of it poured into your head at the speed of light. You were dizzy, you could hear the voices of conversations past, your brain filling with memories and spiralling a thousand miles a minute. You gasped for breath, stumbling back.

“Tiger?” Bill said in alarm, “What’s wrong?”

Your feet kept peddling backwards as thoughts, more thoughts, more memories clouded every single function in your brain. You groaned as the searing, blinding pain clouded your vision.

“Bill,” you choked, “Bill get him away.”

“Tiger it’s just my brother—“

“He’s going to stab me with a needle again!” You cried suddenly, “Just like he did a few years ago!”

The entire room stilled, all of the eyes on you, as the silence became deafening.

“What did you just say?” Bill whispered.

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

“No,” you sobbed, “No no no no no no….”

“Tiger hey. Hey,” Bill stepped into your line of vision, grabbing your face in his hands, “It’s just me and you kid, just me and you.”

“Bill,” you continued to sob, clutching at his shirt as your mind spun. Everything—all of it—it was all coming back, and it was all coming back at the same time. Your knees buckled.

“Tiger, what did you just say?” He asked again.

“Him,” you sniffled, “He had a big needle a few years ago when we were visiting your family’s country place and I wasn’t feeling well. And he tried to stab me with it and I passed out and then he stabbed me anyway and I needed surgery.”

“Tiger—” Bill said urgently, his eyes wide, “How do you know that?”

“Because I remember Bill,” you shoved at him, “I hate needles.”

Bill hadn’t blinked. He still had your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks, as his eyes got impossibly wider.

“Tiger, when’s my birthday?”

“Does he have a needle?” You asked feebly. Bill glanced back—Sam was just carefully watching you both, and he raised his hands slowly.

“No needle,” he promised, “I won’t hurt you.”

“My birthday tiger,” Bill focused back on you, “When is it?”

“August 9th,” you said immediately. Bill let out a small incredulous noise.

“What was the name of the stray cat you took care of for a year?” He asked.

“Tofu,” you said without missing a beat.

“What happened to the coffee maker I bought you?” 

“It broke,” you mumbled.

“What happened to the coffee maker tiger,” he deadpanned.

“I stabbed it,” you mumbled embarassed, “I thought it was haunted.”

“Which cousin do you hate?”

“Leila,” you sneered, “God, she’s a cunt.”

“And what did we do for your birthday last year?”

“We had sex in the Magic Kingdom at Disney World,” you mumbled, but the way Bill’s face contorted from shock to sheer embarrassment and the hand that he clapped over your mouth gave you a clue that perhaps you had said something wrong.

“They don’t know we do that,” he whispered urgently to you. You bit your lip sheepishly.

“They do now,” Valter chimed in, and you barely registered a rapid exchange of money amongst the brothers, some disgruntled grumbles. A quick glare from Bill, and then the piercing green orbs were back on you.

“Tiger, you remember,” he murmured. Tears flooded down your cheeks, as you nodded. He couldn’t help it—pulling you forward, he crushed his lips to yours as you held onto him.

“It came back,” you said as you pulled away, “I don’t know how. But I just kept getting flashes, my heart is still racing. Everything just flooded back.”

“For what it’s worth, if anyone cares about my medical opinion,” Sam chimed in from the background, “Amnesia from blunt force trauma is often reversed when the patient is re-exposed to a prior trauma.”

“The memories,” you mumbled in surprise, “Bill, my therapist said that. Even if I don’t remember a past trauma, my brain still has a knee-jerk reaction to it and that can provoke a kick start for my brain to access all of my memories. Just by being re-exposed to a traumatic one.”

“Exactly,” Sam said, but your eyes narrowed and you glared at him.

“So you stabbed me with a needle and you traumatized me?” You said accusingly. Bill chuckled, squeezing your shoulder softly in warning.

“No,” he said with a furrowed brow, “I traumatized you by stabbing you with a needle. It’s quite simple, really. And you saw me, and your brain remembered that trauma, and now you remember everything.”

“You son of a—“

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Bill held you back by pulling you back into him, “Tiger, you remember.”

“I remember,” you said softly, and when you raised on your tip toes he met you halfway, kissing you softly.

“So are we all just not going to acknowledge that this” Valter gestured to the two of you, “Is officially a thing, even when we all knew it was a thing?”

“I don’t know about that Valtermelon. It may not be a thing for long,” you muttered, and Bill looked to you curiously. You smacked his chest, taking a big step away from him as you glared.

“You fucking let me eat green onions?” You snapped at him, “Green onions?! Bill, you’re fucking fired.”

[sgtbradfords]

I just had an idea and I don’t think anyone wrote about it yet 🙈

SE2E12 when Lucy takes down that guy at the speed dating place

Any chance you would write something on that?

Lucy shutting down, nayla and Harper not being able to help her and having to call Tim to come and help

This turned out really cute and I am kinda happy with how it turned out... I hope you enjoy anon! :)

Lucy Chen thought they would be going to a bar or a club for her first girl’s night out with Nyla Harper and Angela Lopez. But no, what the two officers had planned was so much worse.

Speed dating.

As soon as she read the white words on the hideous pink sign, her fight or flight response kicked in. She wanted to run but knowing her two friends, they would never allow that. She tried talking her way out of it, didn’t work. So, she took the only option left, being to rope them into their own scheme.

‘Trust your judgement.’ They said. ‘Control the environment.’

‘Bullshit.’ Lucy thought as she took a seat, a sip of liquid courage coursing through her veins.

The night had started off decent, easily picking out the creeps to be vague to and actively ignoring the weirdos who sent a shiver down her spine. Though, she was not much better, as she came off a little too forward with the men that sat down in the seat across from her.

The buzzer sounded, announcing the end of the night as she and the last prospect, Isaiah stood. He told her he had a good evening, to which she off-handedly agreed. She heard him before she could see him as he reached out, pulling at the loose thread on her sweater.

She reacted instantly, his hands were moving towards her and all she could think about was the last time a set of unwanted hands approached her.

Lucy had him on the floor with his hands secured behind his back in eight seconds flat, Nyla and Angela running over when Lucy laid him out.

“Hey.” Nyla told her placing a hand on her shoulder, bringing her out of her daze. “You’re ok. It’s alright.”

She could hear the shrieks of people being startled around her, Angela’s voice foggy as she spoke to the man she just laid out. Her breathing increased rapidly, adrenaline coursing through her veins as her heart pounded in her chest.

Lucy never heard the question that Nyla was asking as she pulled out of the hold the other woman had on her arm. Her body moved on it’s own accord, her feet carrying her quickly, returning her to the car she had vacated not even an hour earlier, pulling on the handle of the car, sitting down in the passenger seat before she hit the automatic lock button, locking the doors.

“Hey, Chen?” said Nyla as she knocked on the window.

Lucy took a shaky breath to steady herself, focusing on grounding her mind.

“Lucy?” Angela asked as she pulled on the handle of the locked door, hitting the button of her car, unlocking it.

Lucy’s right hand hovered over the switch panel, pressing the button to lock the doors back.

Angela hit it again, only for the occupant of the vehicle to lock it back.

“Seriously. What do we do?” she asked looking over the top of the vehicle.

Nyla pulled out her phone, her thumb scrolling on the screen before pressing the glass, moving the phone to her ear. “Hey. You busy? Yes, I know you’re off duty. We’ve kinda got a situation. I mean kinda like you’ll find out when you get here. We’re in the pay by the hour parking lot on 42nd street. You can’t miss us.” She said before ending the call, placing the phone back into the back pocket of her jeans. “Well, this has been an experience.”

“He on his way?”

Nyla nodded, leaning back on the car. “Relax, she’s not going to budge.”

Angela glanced into the car, standing between the car and the one next to it, keeping an eye on the woman sitting in the passenger seat.

“You meet anyone interesting?”

Nyla snorted, telling Angela about the guy who got up and ran from the table holding a hand to his mouth, and the one she thoroughly grossed out, telling her the stories she had told them.

“What about you?” Angela had just asked when a familiar truck pulled in off the road.

Tim Bradford pulled his truck into the parking lot, stopping at the automated machine to pay for parking, grabbing his ticket before pulling up behind the car he knew all too well. He put the vehicle in park, pressing the button to roll down the passenger side window. “I’m not going to be your DD Harper.”

Nyla walked over to the truck, resting her arms on the sill of the window. “We may have done something stupid.”

“Define stupid.”

Angela walked over, joining Nyla as she looked at the driver guiltily. “I may have pushed Lucy too hard.”

Tim’s face dropped, concern quickly taking over before he could mask the emotion. “What did you do?” he asked as he unbuckled, opening the door of the truck.

Angela shared a look with Nyla, “We may have gone speed dating.”

Tim stared her as he rounded the truck. “You what?”

“She agreed, after some encouragement and bribing.”

“Speed dating.” Tim said as he ran a hand over his face. “What happened?”

“She had a loose string on her shirt and one of the imbeciles tried to pull it without telling her.” Nyla began telling him.

“Then she laid him out. It was impressive really.”

“Not the point Angela. Listen, we tried to calm her down, but she ran out of there and locked herself in the car.”

Sighing Tim moved towards the driver’s side of the car. “Unlock the car.”

Angela hit the button, Tim opening the door simultaneously, getting in behind the wheel before he pulled the door close.

Lucy stared ahead as the vehicle shook, her training officer sliding into the seat next to her, his chest against the steering wheel as his left-hand moved to his side, fumbling with the buttons on the side of the seat.

“How the hell does Ang drive like this?” he grumbled as the seat began sliding all the way back, his long legs slowly unfolding. “So, what happened boot?”

Lucy held a hand to her face, her elbow resting in-between the glass of the window and the door as she continued staring ahead, watching the things moving around the outside world of the vehicle.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

“Are you here as my boss or as my friend?” She asked, moving her hand down from her face as she began to wring her fingers.

Tim thought for a second, hesitating before answering. “Friend.” They were friends and they were coworkers but somehow, they were also more than that, their working chemistry setting the base of their friendship outside the four sides of the shop.

“I thought I was ready.” She sighed.

“For?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something more.”

Tim nodded. “It’s only been two months boot. Your recovery isn’t something that will fix itself overnight.”

Lucy somberly let out a lone laugh. “Like hell it will! I’m tired Tim. I’m tired of the pity, I’m tired of the looks, tired of it all. I just want to put it behind me, live a normal life.”

“I know.” He whispered. “But neither one of us has a time machine Chen.”

“Tim, it wasn’t-“

“Don’t. Don’t say it wasn’t my fault. I’m the one who- I almost lost you Lucy.” He told her, his voice cracking at the admission.

“We talked about this the other night. What happened was neither here nor there and both of us are going to have to move on from it sooner or later.”

Tim knew that his rookie was growing restless, the outcome of those twenty-four hours still eating away at her. “I think… what you need, is to find an outlet.”

“An outlet.” She stated, turning her head to face him.

“Something that takes the stress off, where your thoughts disappear and I don’t mean paintball, something a little more strenuous.”

Lucy snorted, rolling her eyes. “Isn’t that what sex is for?”

“That’s not a healthy outlet.”

“And what, Officer Bradford, is your healthy outlet?”

“I have a few, one of them being running.” He told her shrugging. “I try, every day, to run. In the morning, in the evening, doesn’t matter. If you hold onto the shit that we see on the job, you’re going to implode.”

She nodded. “So, what would you suggest?”

“Everyone’s different, you just have to find something that works for you.”

Lucy mulled over his words, silence enveloping the car before she took the opportunity to speak. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime Chen but you’re making me miss Thursday night football.”

Lucy shoved his shoulder. “I’m sorry for ruining your Thursday with my insecurities.”

Tim flashed her a smile. “We all have our days boot. I do have to say that I wouldn’t mind seeing the video of you putting this guy in his place though.”

“What, so you can critique me?”

“No, so I can see you laying this guy out on his ass.” He said with pride in his voice. “Then critique you.”

A knock sounded on the driver side window. “If you two are done with whatever this is,” Angela said, gesturing between the two “we would like to get out of here.”

“Find an outlet boot.” He said as he pulled the handle of the door, his tall frame exiting the car. “You three text me when you get home.”

“Awwwe look Ang, I think he’s worried.” Nyla teased as Tim walked back towards his waiting truck, the man raising his right hand up the air as he flashed his middle finger.

It took several days and shifts to find what he was talking about, but as she wrapped her hands in tape, a bag of sand hanging in front of her, she took the advice given to her to heart. Lucy couldn’t help the smile that overtook her as she replayed the conversation that followed the disaster that was the other night as she began hitting the swaying bag. ‘Find an outlet boot.’

“Bring your elbow up.” A voice spoke from a few feet behind her causing her to jump.

“Giving boxing advice now are we Officer Bradford?”

Tim shrugged off the bag on his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground. “No but, I would rather you hit the bag properly than have a bummed wrist tomorrow and us get into a shootout.”

Lucy jabbed the bag. “Sounds like advice to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not?”

She stopped the swaying bag, grasping it with both hands. “Fine.”

Tim stepped closer, moving into her line of sight as he stood next to the bag. He began critiquing her, Lucy adjusting her stance and positioning countless times as he began placed a pair of boxing pads on his hands. “Enough with the bag. Hit me boot.”

“What?” she said in astonishment. “I’m not-“

“You will Chen, hit me.”

Lucy took a swing at him, missing him as he ducked. “Again.” He ordered.

She forcefully swung her right arm, her throw landing on the soft padding. “Good. Again.”

They kept it up, Tim counteracting her throws and punches, throwing in his own punches that she successfully blocked for the most part.

“See? Outlet.” He told her as he pulled a bottle of water from his bag, taking a sip.

Lucy began unwrapping her wrists, wading the tape into a ball. “Thanks, Tim.”

“You’ve got a mean right hook but your uppercut could use some work. We’ll meet back here in two days boot.” He told her, gathering his bag, moving towards the door.

“Don’t I spend enough time with you already?”

Tim turned around, smirking. “Two days boot.”

Lucy sighed, turning around mumbling under her breath. “He’s lucky I like him.”

“Heard that!” he yelled as the door closed.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 21: Prinxiety (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 21: Combine two soulmate prompts. (This will make sense soon, I promise.)

It’s the sequel you’ve all been waiting for! This is the second part to day 16 (read that first!!!!!), and y’all finally get to see what happened to Virgil! Please heed the trigger warnings below.

TRIGGER/content WARNINGS!! Anxiety, food mention, crappy foster system/group homes, implied past abuse, religious guilt/negative view of religion, homophobia, conversion therapy/abuse, starvation, sneaking medication (antipsychotics/side effects), electrocution, seizure, ambulance. I’m sorry. 

Word count: 3.8k

Unlike most kids in the foster system, Virgil didn’t know his birthday. He knew it was sometime in December, but that didn’t do much. Technically, birthdays weren’t really a huge thing anyways, not when the group home he rarely left was awfully underfunded, and a party came second to little things like working sinks and clothes without holes. Even still, all the other kids at least got a little cupcake and a half hearted birthday song on their special day, and his festivities were pushed onto Christmas. He didn’t get a weak excuse for a celebration, because the other kids ‘found it unfair’ that he got that and Christmas in the same month. To prevent an upheaval, the workers told him that he’d just have to be happy with what he got.

But it wasn’t fair, because some kids got Easter and a birthday, or Halloween and a birthday, or New Years and a birthday, and poor Virgil didn’t. The fact of the matter was, they plain didn’t like him. The other kids didn’t like that he got extra free time because of his anxiety, or was allowed to leave the table when they weren’t, and they especially didn’t like he was the youngest of the bunch. The youngest had the highest chance of getting adopted, it was just facts, so they had seemingly decided that if his stay here would be the shortest, it would be the most tortured. 

It wasn’t the shortest stay, though. With his barrage of anxiety related issues and group-home-toughened demeanor, no foster home wanted to deal with him. He was snarky, ran away, regularly got in fights with the biological children of the parents, and was promptly labeled a problem child. Eventually, it was deemed easier for him to just stay in a group home until he outgrew the system, since he seemed set to escape every other place. Virgil tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did; it was his fault, after all. As he watched all his older tormentors grow out of a crooked system, he resigned himself to the same fate. After all, he was almost sixteen now, and he knew his chances were out. So he stayed stuck in his group home, lashing out at his caretakers and therapists, refusing to eat unless it was alone in his room (technically, three kids slept in there, but he so rarely left it, and they wanted to avoid him, it was unofficially deemed his room), and listening to music on his phone.

He’d been given the phone on his fifteenth birthday, a gift from one of his caretakers. It was the cheapest piece of crap he’d ever seen, glitched out every other minute and needed to be charged at least three times a day, but it was a phone nonetheless. Granted, he had no one to text. But he had access to a computer, a totally one hundred percent legal music downloading website, and a strong sense of determination, so he’d soon filled the phone’s entire measly storage with all the music he could cram on the thing. 

That’s what he was doing on the night of December 18th, listening to his “Emo Playlist” on a pair of $4 Dollar Store earbuds, laying on his bed and finding shapes in his popcorn ceiling as the moon shone through the window. In the bunk beds across the room from him, his two other roommates were fast asleep, but he couldn’t follow suit. It was sadly normal for Virgil to have sleepless nights where no matter what, his anxious brain just wouldn’t shut off, and it just felt like one of those nights. His hands shook and his eyelids flinched every few seconds for no reason, so he turned the music just a little bit louder and tried to calm his breathing. 

It was just past 1 am when his life changed forever. 

He was on the fourth cycle of his playlist, eyes no more heavy than hours before and just as flinchy. It was just entering the “existential crisis” time of the night where he started questioning reality, and he was about to give in and start letting his mind drift to darker places, when a song distinctly not his began to play in the midst of a song switch.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don’t know you yet.

He froze, eyes suddenly wide open, and yanked the earbuds out of his ears. The song continued; not in his headphones, but in his head. It didn’t take an idiot to realize that it was his soulmate, responding, and as an afterthought, Virgil suddenly identified that today was probably his birthday. Both amazing revelations, but one was slightly more time sensitive. 

Desperately scrolling through his playlists as the song stopped after the chorus, he tried to find a song that would be an adequate introduction to this new person. When his eyes landed on a song from his Adele phase (he didn’t talk about that time) that he hadn’t had the energy to delete yet, he simultaneously groaned and grinned. Subtly meme-y, heartfelt like the song his soulmate had played, a decent greeting. He tapped play. 

Hello,

It’s me.

He hoped his soulmate had the same sense of humor of him and had actually given a laugh, since he was trying to stifle laughter behind his sleeve to avoid waking the sleeping kids. He paused after the first verse, since he didn’t really want to remember that phase of his life more than he had to, and waited for the other to play the next song. Hopefully they could work out some sort of rhythm, play songs back and forth. He for sure wouldn’t be able to sleep now.

(The next song his soulmate played was an almost atrocious obviously-musical-theatre song that almost made Virgil hit his head against the wall, so he retaliated with a favorite of his, the most ear assaulting screamo he could find on his playlist.)

The clock had just passed four in the morning when there was a small pause in the routine, before his soulmate played a children’s lullaby. It definitely wasn’t something you’d listen to in everyday life, so Virgil could only assume it was the other’s way of indicating that they had to sleep. As if I’m going to let you go that easily, Virgil smirked, opening YouTube and begging that the video he’d chosen would play without an ad.

It did, filling his crackling, cheap earbuds with the opening chorus of Baby Shark. Fight fire with fire, he decided, chuckling to himself as he turned off the song just before the ‘mommy shark’ verse. Silence filled his head and he mentally wished the other a good night, turning onto his stomach and screaming into his pillow, grinning madly. 

Eight months later, their new way of life was deeply imbedded into him; getting woken up at asscrack o’clock in the morning by a worker who wanted to be there as much as he did, and either playing his morning playlist to get himself slightly more ready to face another monotonous day or waiting in silence until his soulmate woke up and played their own music. He’d begrudgingly started to even enjoy the showtunes. Everyone around the home had noticed his gradual shift in attitude, and he couldn’t help the natural smiles that pulled at his cheeks when a new song played out of nowhere. It got to the point where his therapist noticed his lifted mood, and the other kids stopped avoiding him and, unknown to Virgil, his social workers decided that he was ready to try another foster home. 

That’s why, eight months later, there was a knock on his bedroom door and his main worker poked in her head, asking him to come downstairs. He’d been playing music for his soulmate, so he silently apologized and joined her at the dining room table, giving her a half hearted smile. 

“Virgil, we’ve found a new home for you. A foster home that specializes in… harder to place cases. They’ve opened their doors to you, and we’re hoping to get you into a trial period there within the next week.”

At first, Virgil vehemently refused. No. He didn’t want to go back to foster homes, not after… everything he went to in the first few. The ones that hurt him, the ones that were more densely crowded than group homes, the ones that turned him into the angry shell he was before he had met a sign of a possibly happy future. He didn’t want to lose the progress he’d made. 

But Bev looked so hopeful, so pleadingly at him, that he gave in after three days of denying. He said goodbye to the kids he’d unfortunately grown attached to, threw his few belongings into a black garbage bag, and got into his worker’s car for the first time in years. Just rebuckling that seatbelt caused a shudder to run up his spine. 

------1 month later------

“Virgil, what are you doing? Do you have earbuds in? We’ve made it abundantly clear that you are not to have technology at the table.”

Virgil fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes, flicking his hair behind his ears to show they were empty. It had gotten long and shaggy, just reaching his jaw in the back. “No earbuds. My soulmate’s listening to music, and it’s catchy.” Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t been caught bopping along to silence before by the stiflers. 

They were nice enough, a woman and a man and their two biological children, but they were too religious for Virgil’s liking. He’d never had qualms with religion before, but he had grown tired of spending Saturdays and Sundays (his only days off from their homeschool regime) in a church, surrounded by older people singing repetitive songs and being yelled at by a guy on the pulpit. Faking being sick only worked so many times before they refused to listen to his excuses. They also insisted he go to a specialized youth group on Tuesdays, but that was easy enough to escape. He just waved by and booked it to the closest 7/11 when they left, making sure he was back at the church by the time it was over and made up some bullshit about the gathering. Jameson, the attendant at the gas station, was becoming the closest friend he’d ever had. 

“Your soulmate?” One of the children asked around a bite of toast, spitting a decent amount onto Virgil’s sleeve. 

“Like daddy and I, Mariam.” The woman explained briefly, not bothering to chastise her about speaking with her mouth full. 

“Yeah.” Unlike most of the kids at his old group home, he wasn’t warming up to theirs. They were too spoiled, too bratty. One had even bit him in his first week here and he was still bitter about it. 

“When did you connect with yours, Virgil?” The question wasn’t asked kindly, more for the sake of being polite, and he assumed if he didn’t answer in an equally polite tone, they’d probably make him paint a fence or something. 

He knew they cared about his bond about as much as he did about theirs. Which was approximately none. The mom took her children’s empty plates and placed them in the sink, Virgil quickly following suit. No use losing more computer time because he didn’t clean his plate.  

“Last December. I didn’t even know it was my birthday, and they started playing music out of nowhere. It was pretty cool.” He finished rinsing off his plate and was confused at the sudden stillness in the room.

“‘They’?” The mom asked, giving her husband what she must have believed to be a subtle glance.

“Uhm… yeah?” Virgil said slowly, “I’m bisexual. So I’m not sure if my partner’s a guy or a girl or… something in between. So… they?” 

He stared with rising anxiety as the two parents had a silent interaction over the kitchen island, before the dad stood up. “Kids, plates in the sink and then go get ready for church. Virgil, you too.”

There was minimal whining as the younger ones did as they were asked, racing each other up the stairs. Virgil followed, slower, listening to hushed beginnings of a conversation, unable to fight the feeling that he’d just royally fucked up. 

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

“Virgil, may we speak with you for a moment?”

He froze, slowly turning from where he’d been half way up the stairs. They’d just wrapped up lessons for the day (Virgil never thought he’d miss an actual school building before, but alas) and the kids had been excused, leaving just him and the parents behind. It had been almost a week since the incident, and a part of him had been hoping they’d just drop it. There wasn’t much they could do, anyways; if their religion conflicted so badly with his sexuality, the worst they would do is send him back to the home anyways. In all honesty, he kind of hoped they would. He was sick of being here, and it was better for his record if he didn’t run. 

Not that it mattered much anymore. He was almost aged out of the system anyways. 

He took a cautious seat back at the dining room table, which they had just cleared from classes. The mom sat back in her chair, eyeing him carefully, as the dad began to speak.

“We spoke with our pastor the other day, and we think it would be best if we put you in therapy.”

“I don’t…” He’d stopped regular therapy at the group home almost a month before coming here, and he couldn’t imagine why he’d need to go back. He definitely wasn’t happy here, but he didn’t figure a grumpy mood was enough to warrant counseling. “I don’t understand.”

“After… what you told us? About your… urges-”

“Urges.” He couldn’t help his own disgusted tone. Of course they were homophobic.

“Yes. Our pastor suggested we try conversion therapy.”

Virgil scoffed, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart started pounding, “Right. As if you could ever get my social workers to approve that. Ward of the state, remember?” He tapped his chest a couple times.

“Fortunately, we already talked to your social worker, Virgil. We had it approved just this morning.” The man finally stopped, as if waiting for a response.

Virgil’s eyes grew wide as he looked frantically between the two of them, the woman quickly avoiding eye contact. That wasn’t normal. 

“There’s no way in hell that you-”

“Profanity, Virgil!” The man barked and Virgil shrank back in his chair, impulsively ducking to avoid a fist that didn’t come. They hadn’t hit him so far, but old habits die hard. “We’ve already signed you up. Your first session is tomorrow. First thing’s first-” He stood up, reaching a hand out to a still-shaking Virgil, “Hand over your phone.”

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

His hair was short now. Shorter than he could ever remember it being. He missed his bangs, he missed the tiny boosts of confidence it gave him when the rest of his appearance disgusted him. Now there was nothing for his hands to run through. There was no style to it, just an electric razor in the hands of his silent foster mother. He should have fought it, he really should have, but he was shaking far too much to try to move.

He didn’t like hands so near his throat. 

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

Surely, his social worker didn’t approve of this. The only explanation Virgil could possibly rationalize was they’d lied about the purpose of the therapy, or the method, or something. But any type of change in a foster kid's life had to go through about a million different levels to get approved, so how the hell were they getting away with this?

It wasn’t too bad. A lot of it was using religious guilt, something Virgil did not have much of, saying he was immoral and inhumane. The rest of it was just his new therapist trying to dig into his supposed ‘trauma’ that made him ‘this way’, as if there was something that caused it. They talked a lot about his old foster homes, and his therapist seemed positive something there had to be the root to everything. It made his blood boil.

It didn’t help that they still hadn’t given his phone back, and they confined him to his room when he wasn’t doing school work at the kitchen table. He could hear the way his soulmate was losing morale, the longer he didn’t respond. The songs were darker, and were few and far between. They still refused to play songs on what he’d called ‘his days’.

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

His ‘therapy’ had ended hours ago, and yet he couldn’t stop twitching. Every time he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep, it was like the electrodes were attached to him again. The images they’d shown him flashed before his eyes, of men kissing, holding hands, and were quickly followed by the sharp sting of electric shocks. He couldn’t close his eyes without flinching violently, no music to calm his nerves.

Virgil didn’t sleep that night.

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

He held to the music like an anchor, soaking in every rare song his soulmate played like a sponge. It was his only relief from the hunger pangs in his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t been allowed to eat at all in the day leading up to another therapy session. Apparently they wanted to put him on some kind of medication, try to increase the intensity of his sessions. It was getting to the point where Virgil was tempted to pretend it was working just to make them stop. 

He missed his soulmate. 

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

No. He’d said no to the drugs. They wanted to put him on anti-psychotics, claiming he was severely mentally ill, and he’d downright refused. There was no way in hell he was going on anti-psychotics. Finally, after days of their demanding being met with stubbornness, they’d given in. 

That had been a month ago. Maybe. Time had gotten kind of funny, like in that limbo between Christmas and New Years, or in the depths of summer break. It had been a while, for sure. They still fed him so rarely a growling stomach was more common than a full one, claiming it was part of his new therapy. He couldn’t help wonder why he was gaining weight, though. He’d been underweight for a majority of his life, thanks to a constantly overworking metabolism and genetics, along with the nasty food they served at group homes that he gladly avoided, but he was starting to fill out slightly. His ribs were barely showing. 

That would be a symptom of being on antipsychotics, he knew from previous research. But he wasn’t on them, so why…?

He took another sip of his apple juice his foster mom had brought him, trying to focus on his homework. Had apple juice always tasted that bitter?

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

They’d gone too far this time, Virgil knew that much. Curse his stubbornness, his inability to just lie and go along with it. He could have just claimed the conversion therapy was working, ‘oh golly, I’m healed!’, and go on with his life, finally talk to his fucking social worker, but no. He wasn’t capable of that. 

They’d shown him more pictures, shocking him more frequently, refusing to stop the session even as tears streamed down his face. It just hurt so bad. Then he remembered a shout (maybe his own?), blinding pain, and the next thing he knew, he was in his foster dad’s car. He said he’d had a seizure, but he was okay now, so they were heading home. A cup of water was forced down his throat and he was laid down in bed, commanded to rest. He was so confused, but also so tired, so he let his eyes drift shut. 

Just before he lost consciousness for the second time that day, he heard a soft melody drift through his mind as his soulmate played another song. It had been so long since the last time he’d heard them play music… despite his exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

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

The days had been a bit of a blur since his seizure. It was probably because his brain had done the human equivalent to ‘Have you tried turning it off and back on again?’, but even that was hazy in his mind. All he wanted to do was sleep, to rest, to not have to do the school work that they were still shoving down his throat. From where he was laying motionless in his bed, he watched the slowly setting sun dip below the horizon. 

There was a knock at the door downstairs. Virgil flinched from the noise, triggering a series of twitches down his spine and into his limbs. People were talking downstairs. He could distinctly hear the voice of his foster parents, but the others were unfamiliar. They were getting louder, near shouting, and there were pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs and down his hallway. 

He couldn’t even find the energy to be scared as his door was thrown open and a man’s voice shouted, “He’s in here!”. A flurry of people stormed into the room, the ones in the lead dressed in blue. 

Clambering, people shifting to make space, a woman holding his hand. She was asking him questions as they loaded him into a stretcher and he tried his best to answer, but he was just so tired. His name was said multiple times, as well as the names of his foster parents, but it was hazy, so hazy… 

“We were just trying to help, I didn’t want this to happen, I don’t-”

“Quiet, woman!”

She raised her voice but it was growing farther away. Virgil realized with a start that he was looking at the sky, bumping along on the gravel path, the bright lights of an ambulance flashing across his vision. 

The husband shouted again, trying to silence his wife. That was the last thing Virgil heard as the doors slammed shut, and he finally allowed his eyes to close. 

Part 3 HERE

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[crownedbyluke]

Long Road Ahead (Chapter 16)

Estelle Finley has been friends with Ashton Irwin and Luke Hemmings for three years. When the boys bring her along on a jam-packed road trip to Cape Cod with the rest of the band, their adventures are just beginning. Through long hours driving, exploring cities, and hidden secrets, something more is bound to happen on this journey. How will this road trip change Estelle’s friendship with the friends she’s come to love so dearly?

Word Count: 2,527

{Chapter One} {Chapter Two} {Chapter Three} {Chapter Four}{Chapter Five} {Chapter Six} {Chapter Seven} {Chapter Eight} {Chapter Nine} {Chapter Ten} {Chapter Eleven} {Chapter Twelve} {Chapter Thirteen} {Chapter Fourteen} {Chapter Fifteen}

“Dad?” I asked, utterly shocked at the mess that was unfolding before my very eyes.

“What? No acknowledging me?” the familiar voice asked. 

I looked just slightly to the left of my father, the familiar face of my brother Wesley came into view. He clearly hadn’t shaved in at least a month with his scraggly half shadow of a beard. It had been at least two years since I had seen him and now, seeing him again, made me want to scream. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked. 

Ashton had his hand on the small of my back, trying his best to comfort me. It felt like everyone in the house was watching me, like I was living my life out on a television screen. 

“You remember your betrothed,” my dad said, gesturing to the man standing behind Wes. 

My heart stopped. A commitment that I had never agreed to and yet, here was my father bringing it back to haunt me. Aiden Harper. He had certainly gotten taller since we were in middle school. The likelihood of him being less of a giant idiot though was probably very small.

“Aiden,” I whispered, still in shock. 

“Who the hell is he Estelle?” Luke asked, voice full of anger. 

I met his eyes, finding the storm of hurt and rage swirling in them. It took everything in my body to not just run over to him. There were more eyes on us than I wanted for a conversation like that. 

“Oh, I suspect she didn’t inform you. This is the man she is intended to marry in two years time,” my dad said. 

Luke clenched his fist. I felt the anger radiating off of him from the stairs. Before anyone got into a fight, I stepped down from the stairs and stood between the two.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. 

“Well darling daughter, you seem to think that I can’t stop you from seeing this man child over there, so I’ve come to prove you wrong,” he said with a smile. 

It was the same smile I had seen my entire life. One of manipulation and dishonesty. 

“How?” I continued. 

“You see, your friends here, well, they sometimes do great work at covering up their partying or their general misuse of their fame, but myself and my contacts are more clever than their publicist. I have a multitude of photos and videos of them misbehaving that would surely ruin any chance they had at making another album,” he said, the smile widening. 

“You’re lying,” Ashton said from behind me. 

“Oh son, you wish I was don’t you? Doubt you’d like that threesome video from your Vegas trip a year ago to get out,” my dad said, gritting his teeth. 

I felt the whole room tense. This was serious and it was happening right in front of my face. There were stories of how my dad would manipulate people into what he wanted, but I had never seen it happen. Some of them felt more fabricated than reality would allow. Yet, it was reality and he was doing everything he could to stop me. 

“What do you want?” I asked, biting back tears. 

It was no longer a question of what I had to do. I’d do it to protect them. Ashton reached for me again, but I moved away. It was my battle now. 

“You’ll be coming home with me right now. You can move into your new house in August and you’ll stay in your tiny little apartment until then. You will no longer speak to these children or be seen with them in the media. Oh and you’ll be seen with Aiden getting engaged next week,” he said. 

My eyes went wide. Engaged? It meant giving away my entire life to a person who would most likely cheat on me the first chance he got. 

“Elle, you don’t-”

“Fine. If I do this, you leave them alone?” I asked, cutting off Calum. 

“Yes.”

“You will never threaten them or harm them?” I pressed. 

“I promise,” my dad said. 

“Fine. I’ll get my stuff,” I said, turning around and marching up the stairs. 

The tears fell down my face as I reached the landing. I was defeated, hurt, and exhausted. All I cared about was protecting them from him. There were footsteps following after me as I opened the door to my room.

“Don’t do this,” Luke said, a waiver in his voice. 

I looked up, seeing the tears in his own eyes that matched mine. 

“If I don’t, you lose your dream,” I said, grabbing the clothes from the closet. 

“We can fight this, make it through this,” he argued. 

“No we can’t Luke! If he has that kind of stuff on Ashton, what do you think he has on you or Cal? I won’t let you guys be collateral damage!” I said. 

“Little dove-”

“Don’t. Please don’t.”

I stopped, balling my fists into the pair of shorts in my hands. That nickname meant so much to me. Luke called me it for the first time after he heard me sing and then he kept using it whenever he was saying something nice or being sweet. It was just our thing. He wrapped his arms around me, taking the shorts out of my hands. His short breaths gave away the fact that he was crying too. We were so close to that happiness I wanted and it was all going away. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.”

He pulled away, pressing his lips against mine shortly before resting his forehead on mine. 

“Don’t walk out the door,” he begged. 

“I have to or else everything you worked so hard for gets ripped from you by that man and I won’t be able to live with myself if that happens,” I said. 

My hands rested on his cheeks, gently running my finger against the stubble growing. This was it. My lips touched his one last time before I went back to grabbing my things. 

“Bugs, you don’t have to do this on your own,” Ashton said from the doorway. 

“Yes I do. You’ll do amazing on the next album,” I said, wiping at my tears. 

“What am I gonna do without you?” he whimpered. 

“I don’t know, but you’ll figure it out.”

He hugged me tightly, putting every last ounce of love into it. 

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, holding on so I didn’t have to let go. 

“Shh, it’s okay.”

After my things were tucked into the suitcase, I gave my last round of hugs. The sound of us all walking down the stairs felt wrong. Everything was wrong. I stopped just short of the door, turning and meeting everyone’s watery eyes. 

“I am so incredibly sorry for this,” I said, the weight of the apology heavy on my heart. 

“Save it dear. They can watch the wedding online,” my dad said, pulling on my arm to get me moving. 

“Don’t touch her!” Luke yelled. 

Everyone stopped again. Things felt like they were going in slow motion. 

“You might be her father, but you will never be her dad. No dad would put his children through this,” he said, voice laced with venom. 

My father smiled at him, letting my arm go. Wesley took my suitcase and nudged Aiden to lead me out of the house. Luke stood there, waiting, but all my father did was smile. Aiden closed the car door after I got in, making me watch Luke stand there as we drove away. Every piece of my heart shattered as I watched him fall to his knees in tears. Timing was a bitch. 

--

TWO MONTHS LATER

LUKE’S POV

“Luke! Come on dude!” Calum yelled from outside my room. 

I had yet to leave my bed and it was already 5 PM. He came by every day to check on me and almost every day, he found me still in bed. 

“Go away!” I yelled back. 

Getting out of bed never felt right or even remotely okay. Since Estelle left, nothing felt right anymore. Everyday was just a different way of going through the motions, barely existing. 

“You gotta get out of bed today,” Calum said, bursting through the door. 

“Why? We don’t have anything to do,” I said, tucking my face into my pillows.

“Maybe, but you haven’t left the house in two months and it’s time you did,” he said, opening the curtains. 

The bright sunshine of L.A. hurt my eyes. Petunia licked my face as she saw the sun. The look Calum gave me felt like one from my mom when I was younger. 

“If I get up, will you leave me alone for the rest of the week?” I asked, slowly sitting up.

“Sure,” he said. 

I knew he was lying from the smile on his face. My feet dragged as I went to the bathroom. Another routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and brushing my hair gone. When I came back out, Calum was holding up new clothes. 

“Why?” 

“We are going out so put on something that isn’t sweatpants,” he said. 

I groaned, taking the jeans and button up from him.

“You realize I’m not bringing anyone home right?”

“Yes Luke. Just shut up and get dressed.”

Legs went through the jeans and arms went through the shirt. It was a facade as to the pain that I felt every single day I woke up and remembered I couldn’t be with my person. Calum messed with my hair and patted my back, ushering me out of the house. 

“Be a good girl piggy!” I yelled before Calum closed the door. 

My phone dinged. 

Mentioned: @Luke5SOS when is there gonna be new music?

The muscles in my face relaxed. No tweets from her...again. 

--

ESTELLE’S POV

The setting sun was blinding through the windows of the cafe. Everyone was going about their evenings, enjoying their coffees or teas. A familiar face tucked underneath a hoodie and a baseball hat walked in, the sun behind him making him glow like an angel. 

“One black coffee please,” he said softly. 

Stress from the week of teaching melted away as I listened to him. My iced vanilla latte swirled as I stirred it carefully. The chair squeaked against the tile as he sat down. I met the hazel eyes staring at me. 

“Hey bugs,” he whispered, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Hi there stranger,” I said, a smile slowly coming out. 

“How’s life?” he asked.

“Shitty. I miss you guys,” I said. 

Our hands touched, the slightest bit of relief washed over me. It felt nice to be able to see him again. The weeks we weren’t able to do this seemed to drag on longer than most. It wasn’t easy to forget about the friends I was no longer allowed to see. The moments I had made me feel more guilty than anything else. He turned his palm over, gently squeezing my hand. 

“We miss you too, bugs,” he said. 

I wanted so badly to ask about Luke, but knew it would hurt more than I was prepared for. Ashton squeezed again. 

“He’s doing his best,” he said. 

Tears welled up in my eyes. If Luke was okay then surely, I should be too. 

“How are the kids?” he continued, pulling away.

“Good. They’re still excited about school and spritely,” I said with a shrug. 

“And you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Holding up. I have to be seen with Aiden once a week so I keep my distance as long as possible until our scheduled outings. He goes around sleeping with women in the off time and pretends to be the perfect fiancé in the meantime. Guess that’s life now.”

“I wish it wasn’t that way,” he said, slightly angry. 

“Ash, you know I don’t have that much of a choice,” I argued. 

“I know, but I hate it. I hate that you can’t come over or see us or come to shows. I hate that we have to tell everyone that we aren’t friends anymore. You’re my best friend and I have to hide you.”

“I should go,” I whispered, suddenly no longer feeling up for talking. 

“Bugs, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I should go. I’ve got grading and lesson plans,” I said, cutting him off. 

Without looking, I walked out of the cafe. The pain took over once I closed my car door as it always did after seeing Ashton. The relics of the past hurt more and more and when I attempted to go back to normal or confront them, I ended up crying in my car. The amount of times I had driven past Luke’s place just to see if a light was on was ridiculous at this point. My phone screen lit up with a text, my background of me and Luke bringing on more tears. 

Aida: Miss you. Drinks on Friday?

I ignored it, opting for driving home instead. The drive went by like it always did. My house was empty and lonely. Another thing that was meant to be something else. The exhaustion of the day wore on me as I collapsed into the couch cushions, sleep slowly taking over. 

--

The pounding on my front door woke me from the nap I was taking. I groggily got up from the couch and made my way to it, peeking through the window. 

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I asked, finding a very drunk Luke and Calum. 

“Estelle!” Luke cheered, a giant smile on his face. 

“Again, what are you doing here?” I repeated. 

“I might have given your address to the Uber driver on accident,” Calum admitted. 

“Get in here,” I groaned. 

They shuffled inside behind me. I checked the door to see if any of the press had followed them. Calum fell onto the couch, giggling as he did so. Luke kept staring at me. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he mumbled. 

“Shush,” I said, helping him into the guest bedroom. 

He giggled as I tucked him in. I put a glass of water on the side table for him in case he woke up. As I went to turn off the light, he grabbed my hand. 

“I missed you little dove,” he whispered. 

His eyes were sincere and it broke every piece of my heart. Luke fell asleep shortly after speaking, his face becoming relaxed and serene. It reminded me of the first time he ever stayed the night at my place. He had slept so soundly that night that he was asleep until one in the afternoon. My heart ached as I looked at him. 

“He still loves you Elle,” Calum said from the doorway. 

I walked towards the door, shutting off the light as I exited and closing the door behind me. 

“I love him too. Now please go rest in the upstairs guest room,” I said with a sigh. 

Calum stumbled his way up the stairs before closing the door. My head fell into my hands, frustration building. The morning couldn’t come fast enough.

A.N: It’s been ages and I feel horrible for leaving this on such a cliffhanger for so long, but I want to finish this story. It’s almost done. It’s mainly all written and it’s time Estelle and Luke get their story told. So here we go.

tag loves: @tommossoccer​ @bbycal​ @cakesunflower​

[notyourdayrdream]

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Day Five, Side A: Austere

read it here on AO3

A/N: brief mention of Kurt being kissed without consent in season two of Glee

(also! for this two shot: Kurt and Blaine met at Dalton, but never dated.)

“What if we went to Coney Island Saturday?” Brittany exclaimed at their weekly potluck, completely out of the blue. Nobody had even mentioned the theme park. Though, to be fair, nobody begins half of the conversations Brittany throws them in.

For some reason, everyone agreed, even Rachel. She said taking a break from the hustle of Broadway was exactly what she needed to be ready to continue her role as Fanny on Monday.

Outvoted, Kurt reluctantly sat between Blaine and Sam on the subway ride to Coney Island, legs shaking the entire time. It wasn’t that he hated carnivals. It was the opposite, actually. When he was younger, his mom and dad took him to the Ohio state carnival. It’s one of the last memories he can fully remember of her, her long blonde hair braided back as she threw a plastic ball at a stack of milk cans. Anything for her kid, especially one who desperately wanted an oversized dragon plushie.

No, he’s nervous because he has a date at eight.

Kurt met Oliver at a coffeehouse near the Vogue office, he was the barista who served him his drink. Oliver’s number was scribbled on the receipt. It was all very cute, and his friends agreed when he told them the story.

They texted back and forth a week before Oliver asked him out. Kurt happily agreed, hoping for a calm day before getting dressed and heading out to a fancy dinner. Now though, he won’t even have enough time to shower the smell of hotdogs off his body and be on time.

So Kurt’s scrolling through Oliver’s Instagram (not at all like a creep,) when Artie pats his shoulder. “There they are,” he points ahead as the rest of his friends stumble to them, chatting animatedly about the rollercoaster they just went on.

“You know, when you said ‘let’s go on a ride,’ I didn’t think you meant the one with a huge drop,” Rachel says, gripping Santana’s arm so hard it might fall off. Her hair is wind whipped and messy.

“C’mon Rach, you could’ve sat with Kurt and Artie if you wanted,” Mercedes says from behind her, arms wrapped around Sam’s waist.

“Did you guys have fun?” Kurt asks from the bench, carefully closing the app so he doesn’t accidentally like an old photo. “Rachel looks like she just died.” This is why he didn’t go on the ride.

Blaine sits beside him on the bench, his eyes gleaming with a sort of childlike wonder. He’s a total adrenaline junkie. “It was amazing, she’s overreacting,” he whispers not-too-discreetly. Kurt giggles.

“Let’s split up,” Santana suggests. “I wanna go on another coaster, and the park closes at six. We can grab dinner after?”

“Unless you’re Sam and Brittany, who already ate,” Artie chides. His camera rests on his lap, storage filled with videos and photos of their trip.

“Hey! Cotton candy is not one of the five food groups!” Brittany sticks out a blue tongue at him, Sam does the same. Their respective partners laugh.

“I have to leave soon,” Kurt reminds the group, checking his phone another time. Five thirty-two.

“Wait, never mind guys,” Santana alerts, appearing to be suddenly anxious. “Kurt has to get his brains fucked out at eight, so we can’t have dinner.” Both Blaine and Kurt wince.

“Too far, San.” Mercedes cringes as her and Sam make their way down the boardwalk steps and to the beach. The others shake their heads in similar disgust before going their separate ways. Rachel pushes Artie to the outdoor arcade with plans to win a bagged goldfish. Brittany pulls her girlfriend by a sticky hand to the older wooden coaster.

“So…” Blaine knocks his shoulder as they walk down the boardwalk. The gel has completely left his hair throughout the course of the day, curls hanging just above his eyebrows. “Whatcha wanna do?” Kurt spies him eyeing the Wonder Wheel beside him.

He shakes his head, not waiting for the question. “No.”

“Please?” Blaine pleaded. “You haven’t been on anything this whole time.” He sidesteps a tiny toddler crying over a fallen ice cream cone.

“I didn’t want Artie to feel alone!” Kurt defends himself. Which was true, most of the coasters weren’t accessible for him, so they spent the time bonding over the grossness of carnival food and looking at footage from the day.

“We’ll Artie isn’t here now,” Blaine replies, voice dropping an octave. “So come on the ferris wheel with me.” He bats his eyelashes for extra effect. Kurt’s stomach swoops.

Blaine has a way of doing that to him. In their near five year friendship, he’s made Kurt’s stomach tie up in knots more times than he can count. He won’t deny he used to have a crush on him in high school; he was preppy and chivalrous and oh so cute in his bow ties and blazers.

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he sighs. Blaine cheers next to him, mumbling ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’ in the same deep voice that makes the blood rush to Kurt’s face.

Okay, maybe the crush wasn’t entirely dead. But it’s completely normal to have crushes on your friends. Friendly crushes.

Since the park is soon to close, the lines weren’t too long anymore. Kurt and Blaine move up first in line after only five minutes.

The ride operator turns to them. Her hair is bordering on orange. “You guys want an outside or inside car?” Her voice has no expression, and she looks two more button presses from quitting her job.

“Outside.” Kurt and Blaine say at the same time, followed by a quiet laugh.

She eyes them. “Alright.” She presses another button, and the outer ring of ferris wheel carts rotate downwards until an empty one comes to the bottom. “Enjoy the ride.”

Blaine and Kurt slide into the seat, sitting on opposite sides of the enclosure. The ride jerks forward and up, until they’re halfway around the ride. “Are you okay? Your face is really pale.” Blaine asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt squeaks, closing his eyes to avoid looking down. Even though the car is supposed to be stationary, it rocks just a little as it moves up and down to complete its first circle.

Blaine thinks for a moment before saying quietly, “You’re afraid of heights?” He jumps a little in his seat, and the car rocks with it. Kurt’s stomach drops.

“I am!” he snaps, opening his eyes. “Stop moving so much.” The city is lit up around them, the sound of cheers from the rollercoaster whizzing by below him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Blaine stills himself. “I wouldn’t have made you go on if you had told me, Kurt!” He looks so worried that Kurt feels bad for even mentioning his fear. It’s completely irrational anyway, he doesn't even have a reason to be so scared. It’s just the fact he believes no human needs to be up one hundred fifty feet high.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he tries to console Blaine (and himself). “It’ll be over in what, three more minutes?” He can last three more minutes. Hell, he’s lasted an hour listening to Rachel and Santana argue.

And then the ride stops. At the very top.

It takes a minute for the two of them to realize this isn’t supposed to happen. “Why’d it stop.” Kurt says. His body feels like it might melt onto the floor. “Oh my god, no.”

“We’re stuck.” Blaine groans, which, thanks Captain Obvious! Those two words are confirmation that this is actually the absolute worst day ever. “I’ll call someone.”

Rachel’s ringtone beats him to it.

Kurt can’t hear much of the conversation, but from the looks Blaine throws his way, he knows it isn’t good. He cracks his knuckles as a way to distract himself from the slight sway of the cart. Passerbys the size of ants point and look up at the malfunctioned ride.

Blaine clicks the end call button. “Okay, good news first, ” he begins, pocketing his phone. “Rachel and Artie talked to the operators, and they’re working on fixing the ride.”

“Bad news?” Kurt presses. Blaine likes to do that thing where he gives good news then bad news, but the latter is always so bad the good news pales in comparison. He’s done that ever since they met. It’s silly, but it’s Blaine, so Kurt loves it.

“Bad news is that it might take thirty minutes, maybe forty-five.” Blaine cringes from the other side of the cart, waiting for Kurt’s outburst.

“No.” Kurt snatches his phone out of his pocket. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” He feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. He’s gonna be late. “I’m gonna miss my date!” He groans, and yeah it may be a little over dramatic, but he hasn’t been on a date with someone in months. He was really excited.

Expecting sympathy from Blaine, he glanced over at him. He’s glaring right back at him. “What?”

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” Blaine says abruptly. “God forbid you miss your date.” He rolls his eyes with more venom Kurt’s seen in him ever. It freaks him out and angers him at the same time.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” He retorts, eyes narrowing. Blaine shrinks back a little at the stare, but doesn’t stop glowering.

“You’ve been going on about this stupid guy the whole day, complaining about how you have to go home, I’m so sick of it!” Blaine continues. His voice grows louder by the end.

“He’s not stupid, okay?” Kurt doesn’t know why he feels like he has to defend Oliver, but he does anyway. “And you’re the main one who wanted me to go out with him!” This whole situation is confusing him.

Blaine huffs indignantly and crosses his arms. “Maybe I don’t want you to anymore!”

“Why not?” Kurt presses. He’s never seen his best friend act like this. He almost seems jealous.

“Because I like you!” Blaine cries, eyes wet. “Jesus, couldn’t you tell?” His face is red now, flushed up to his neck.

Kurt flinches. “Please stop yelling.”

“I’m sorry.” Blaine immediately backs down, curling into himself. “I like you, Kurt. I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but I do.”

The sun is starting to set now, casting what feels like the entire world in an orange haze. The ocean to the right of them glimmers, couples walked in tandem along the shore. To the left, the skyline of Brooklyn appears austere and somber from so high up.

“How long?” Kurt says finally, eyes settling on the horizon and the rolling waves.

“How long what?”

“How long have you liked me?” He doesn’t know if he wants the answer.

There’s a pause until Blaine eventually murmurs, “Five years.”

Kurt’s heart drops. “Blaine.” Why didn’t he say anything? Oh god, this is horrible.

“I just, I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship by admitting anything,” Blaine explains, rubbing the nape of his neck. “It’s a lame excuse. But—yeah.” And he resides back into silence.

It is a lame excuse, Kurt thinks. Of course it wouldn’t have ruined anything. He had a crush on his stepbrother, for Christ’s sake. “So why did you want me to go out with Oliver so bad?”

“I thought, maybe, if you started dating someone I could get over you,” he laughs to himself. “That obviously didn’t work.”

Kurt just stares at him for a moment until he makes up his mind. “I’m coming over there.”

Blaine jerks out of his thoughts. “N-no, don’t come any closer,” he stammers. “You’ll mess up the balance of the car.” He looks terrified. Kurt can’t decide if it’s sad or adorable.

He rolls his eyes. “I won’t mess up the balance of anything.” Kurt stands slowly, holding his arms out to his sides. He takes the three steps to Blaine’s side of the car quickly to get it over with, shaking the seats. When he falls into the seat, Blaine steadies him by the waist. The touch shocks both of them, and he snatches his arm back.

They sit shoulder to shoulder, neither of them daring to move. It’s what feels like hours before Kurt takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts. “Do you remember when we first met? And I was having trouble with Karofsky? You texted me a single word. Courage.” He turns to the side. Blaine looks absolutely disheveled, sweating and curls getting frizzier by the minute. Weirdly, he looks gorgeous.

Blaine snorts. “Yeah, that word got you sexually assaulted.”

“No,” Kurt shakes his head, choosing to ignore the way his heart stops from the words. “That word saved me. You saved me, Blaine.” He would’ve never stood up for himself without that text. It got him through McKinley and Dalton and NYADA to this day.

“I’m always going to care about you. And I’m sorry I don’t… like you the way you like me. But I used to,” Kurt admits, now nervous like must’ve been. That secret was supposed to go to the grave. “And maybe I can again.”

Blaine meets his gaze, an emotion Kurt can’t quite place swirling around his eyes. “Okay.” He smiles, and though it is wavering, it’s also hopeful.

There’s a jolt, and the wheel starts turning again. It’s dark now, the sun fully disappeared below the horizon. The sky is a mix of purple and black and blue, a bruise painted among the stars. Kurt hears cheers from the other cars as they reach the ground below. “Okay.”

[dear-evanrosier]

Youtube Star (Muggle AU) (Parts 1-3)

Wednesday

Remus thought it was absolutely hilarious when the kids in his class were talking about the new video that Sirius Black had uploaded the day before, especially when one of them asked if he watched the latest. This specific set of questions had started when Remus had accidentally shown his screen saver- a selfie of him and Sirius, which Remus had taken right after making a corny joke, so Sirius was laughing in the photo- to a student while checking a text from said husband. It had sparked so many rumors that he still got bombarded with questions, and the slip up was over three months ago.

"So, Mr.Lupin did you watch Sirius Black's new video? He uploaded one last night!"

Yeah, I spent three hours helping him edit it and pick out the topic.

"No, I don't watch his content."

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

"Turns out Sirius Black is married! Did you know that?"

Yeah, I was the one who put his ring on.

"Nope, that's very cool. Now do your work."

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

"Did you go to his meet and greet in London last week?"

Yeah, I was backstage for ten hours waiting for him to finish talking to all of you.

"No, I went to the park."

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

He ended up having to change the lock screen so the students wouldn't try to go through his phone. He was just lucky none of his students had noticed the ring on his right finger matched the one shown on accident multiple times in some of Sirius' videos. He knew if the students found out then they would never get any work done, so Sirius agreed to keep it a secret.

That is until one morning Remus frogot his lunch at their house, and he only has twenty minutes to eat but their house is thirty minutes away. He decided to go without it, not wanting to make his students miss the test they had the next class. The period ended and he checked his phone, noticing a text sent almost fourty minutes ago.

Sirius❤-You left your lunch at home, can't have my Moony starving. I'll bring it over there.

He rubbed his face with one hand and listened outside, realizing the hall was louder than usual and there was laughter along with a heavy clacking sound that he knew belonged to the black combat boots of his husband.

"Who's that bag for?" Came from the hall, quite muffled due to the wooden door and chattering students.  He stood up and stretched, and walked over to the door, opening it slowly.

He immediately spotted the thick black curls down to the shoulders, wearing Remus' favorite outfit. Plain black jeans that hugged his legs, a chain dangling from one of the belt loops to the closest pocket, and one of Remus' dark green jumpers over top. The black hem of a band t-shirt just visible under the v-neck. He was also wearing a tad bit of eyeliner, which made Remus think he was even hotter. He was taking pictures with the students lining up in front of Remus' door, waiting for their next lesson with him. At the sound of the door opening, Sirius looked away from the camera and spotted the fluffy sandy colored hair and freckles covering his husband's face. He took the picture, muttered an "Excuse me." and ducked from underneath the outstretched student's hand. He walked past the rest of the line up to Remus, who was blushing terribly and had an eyebrow raised. "Yes, Black?" He inquired, and Sirius snorted.

"That's Lupin-Black to you, love." He replied, and placed a soft kiss on Remus' lips. Remus put a hand on his cheek and let the kiss last a second longer before he pulled away and gestured to the shocked expressions across the students' faces. "You know they had a test today, right?"

Sirius smiled and shook his head. "You did not tell me that. Sorry, love." He kissed Remus again and lifted up his hands, showing a paper bag with 'Moony❤' on the front. Remus rolled his eyes affectionately and took the bag. "Thanks, love." He looked back at the students. "I think you broke them," Remus told Sirius, who also turned around to look at the students' faces.

All of the kids who followed or knew of Sirius had their mouths open almost comically. Sirius let out a bark of laughter and turned back to Remus. "What, did you take your ring off?" Remus shook his head and held up his hand, showing Sirius that he still had on his identical ring. A student gasped and grabbed both of their hands, comparing the rings. "You alright there, Lavander?" Remus asked, and the bell rang. Sirius went to leave but the students wouldn't let him, blocking him from leaving the hall. The students in Remus' class ushered the two into the room, not giving them a chance to leave.

It wasn't that big of a shock that they were gay. Both of them had been public about it, actually. Remus wore little pins with pride flags on his jumpers often and would hand them out if a student asked. And Sirius' video with him coming out had gotten well over 10 million views. It was just the fact that their soft academia teacher who liked books, tea, minimal social contact, wearing oversized jumpers, and poems is married to the complete opposite. A grunge YouTuber who loved coffee, wearing band shirts and chains, adored being in the spotlight, and always had on some form of makeup.

After they had practically forced the door closed and sat in their assigned seats, Remus' couldn't help but chuckle. "I must say, this is the most focused I have seen them all year." Sirius laughed and sat on the edge of the teachers' desk, till Remus lightly pushed him off. He hopped off and eyed Remus. "Ok, where do you suppose I sit then?" He asked, and Remus got a cheeky grin, gesturing to an empty student seat in the front row.  "I am twenty-seven, not fourteen." Sirius scowled but took the seat, the students' eyes following him because Sirius Black, a youtube star, is in our classroom and is now sitting five feet from us.

Remus called their attention to the front of the room, but the students still glanced over a Sirius every few moments. "Ok, if we can get through this lesson, we can spend the last twenty minutes of class questioning my husband and me but only if you take some notes. I'll push your test back to tomorrow." A few of the students clapped, and Sirius did too, earning an eye roll and a shhh from Remus. Sirius chuckled but remained quiet during the class because he knew how much teaching meant to Remus. The kids still stole looks at Sirius whenever they could manage, but he kept his eyes on Remus the entire time, enjoying the sparkle he got whenever Remus did something he loved, not just teaching.

The class was surprisingly focused. Remus expected them to not shut up, but it was the complete opposite. Every eye was on him, but he was avoiding a specific set that normally would not be in there. He knew they were probably turning back to Sirius when he wrote something on the board. He ended up being done with the notes in only twenty minutes, giving them half an hour to question them. "Ok, we're done with notes. You can start asking questions."

The students began immediately. There were so many and they were so loud neither adult could make out the words except for few parts.

"Can-"

"Video-"

"Star-"

"Ring-" And that was basically all they could hear.

Sirius got up from where he was sitting and moved back to the teachers' desk, and didn't get shoved off this time. Instead, Remus came over and sat next to him. While the students were shooting their rapid-fire questions, Sirius turned and whispered in Remus' ear, "How often are they like this?" Remus whispered back, "Only when they talk about you, so I'd say all the time." Sirius just chuckled in response. The kids had stopped asking questions by then, so they were just staring at them while they had their short, whispered conversation. "Ok, since you guys stopped asking questions, please ask one at a time," Remus asked, and the students began the questions, just slower.

"Can you post a video so everyone knows?"

"Is his the voice the one in videos from a different room?"

"Since when did you like youtube stars?"

"How come you never showed us your ring?"

"How long have you been married?"

"Forget that, how long have you been together?"

And a lot more. After they stopped talking again, Remus and Sirius began answering questions.

"We've been together for twelve years, married for eight," Sirius told them, and a couple of kids swore because he started making videos ten years ago and nobody realized that he was married for the majority of that time. "How come you didn't mention it?!" A girl from the back shouted, and Sirius chuckled. The two kept answering questions until they got to the last one. "Are you going to make a video making it public?" One boy asked, and the two adults glanced at each other. "Er, I don't know. It's up to Remus, really." Sirius told them, then checked his watch. He jumped off the desk quickly. "Shit, I have to go. I have that meeting in about ten minutes." He placed a chaste kiss on his lips, then waved to the students. He opened the door, waved one last time to Remus, and left. The students in class turned expectantly to Remus, but they didn't get a chance to speak because the bell rang. It was the end of the day since it was an early let out.

A few of the kids in the school who drove managed to get pictures of Sirius on his motorbike, waving at them before he sped off, none of them knowing what he was doing there.

When Sirius got home two hours later, Remus was sitting on the couch, reading a book. After a small discussion, they went to bed, excited for the next day.

Friday

"Quiet down! Quiet down, everyone!" Remus began the class, attempting to call attention to the rowdy group of kids. After they all stopped talking, Remus began his speech. "Since you, all got great marks yesterday, you can have a free day today. Do whatever you like, just stay in your seats and please remain quiet." He sat down at his desk, leaving the students to their own devices. A girl stood up and walked to the front of the room where Remus's desk was. He looked up when she was standing next to him.

"Can I help you, Lavander?" He asked, and she smiled. "Actually, professor, I was hoping I could play a video on your computer?" She asked. Remus, who already knew what video she wanted to play, agreed. She searched up the video titled 'Introducing... My Amazing Husband!' and paused it before it started, turning back to the class. "Have any of you seen this yet?" She asked, and everybody shook their heads. "Good."  She pressed play and sat down, every eye on the projected screen.

Sirius was in his normal chair, his hair in a bun and wearing an oversized jumper and multiple rings on his fingers, giving a mixed vibe. "Ok. It's on. Hi guys! So yesterday, I went to visit my husband at work so I could drop off the lunch he forgot. He does that often."

"No, I don't!" A muffled voice came from behind the closed door, and Sirius snickered and swiveled his chair to face the door as he cupped a hand over his mouth. "Whatever you say, Moony!" He called back before turning his chair again to look at the camera.

"Anyways, I brought him his lunch and his students found out. So when I got home from a meeting later that night, we talked a little. And did more."

"Sirius!" Another muffled shout. Sirius just laughed in response. "Ok, ok! But my dear husband has decided that he is okay with everyone knowing who he is. So, will you come in here, love?"

The door opened to reveal Remus, standing in plaid pajama pants and cropped band shirt hanging just above the waistband of his pants. Sirius eyed him as he came into the room, sitting in Sirius' lap.

"Did you really have to wear my crop top? You know it distracts me." Sirius told him, wrapping his arms around Remus' waist. "Yes. Yes, I did. It's payback for when you wore it and you knew I had to grade papers." Remus responded, and Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "Fine."

He looked at the camera again, gesturing to the man in his lap. "So, this is my husband. And I wanted to show some videos of a younger us, which Remus has agreed to show. Isn't that right, dear?" Remus nodded and Sirius pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Please be warned that there is some blood in a couple of these videos, I just figured I should tell you in case that stuff freaks you out," Sirius explained.

The footage changed, showing the two as teens, seventeen at the oldest. It was light out and looked to be around summertime. Both were only wearing swimming shorts. Sirius' were dark green and Remus' was a light blue. There was a large tattoo of the star constellation, Sirius, over his heart and the alchemy symbol for water on his right bicep. Remus had phases of the moon tatted on the inside of his right forearm.  They were standing on a roof, the footage shot from the ground. "Jump! Jump, Sirius, jump!" The cameraman yelled, and Sirius nodded enthusiastically while tying his long hair into a bun using the scrunchie on his wrist.

"Of course! You know I always will!" Remus grabbed his hand as soon as he let go of his hair, yelling back. "Absolutely not, James! I don't care if it's onto a trampoline, he will not be jumping off a roof! Peter didn't, so neither will he." Sirius gave a mischievous glance towards the camera then back to Remus, whose eyes widened.

He quickly tried to free his grasp, but Sirius clenched his hand tightly. "No, no no! Sirius Black, I swear on Merlin's saggy tits if you-" his promise was cut short by his own screaming. Sirius ran off the roof at a sprint, dragging Remus with him. The camera followed them as best as possible considering how fast they were falling.

Their hands broke free when they landed, and Sirius bounced away, almost falling off the edge of the trampoline had he not grabbed the metal. He climbed back over and jumped over to Remus, who was laying on his back in the middle. He rolled over him, pushing himself up by his legs and arms overtop of Remus. "Ok there, Rem?" He asked, and Remus huffed, staring away from Sirius.

"No! You could have bloody well killed me!" Sirius laughed and shook his head. "No, I couldn't have. It's barely a ten-foot jump. You've done worse." Remus huffed again and crossed his arms to the best of his ability since Sirius was still hovering over him. Sirius changed his position, moving his legs so he was basically sitting on top of Remus. He used one hand to cup Remus' cheek and force him to look him in the face. "You fell for me." Remus smiled slightly and cupped Sirius' cheek back. "Why, I suppose I did. But that didn't have a bad consequence, so I don't really see how that's worse." Sirius ignored the last bit and brought his face down to Remus' kissing him, who eagerly kissed back. A boy with brown hair jumped over them, causing them to bounce away from each other, and Remus really did fall off the edge.  

Sirius got over there as fast as possible, jumping off the trampoline. James followed him on the ground. Sirius was helping up Remus, who was holding his face with a hand. It looked like he had hit his face into a nearby lawn chair, which had blood on the leg. "Please, let me see." Sirius pleaded with him, and Remus winced as he pulled his hand away, exposing the wound. The large gash went from his left jaw diagonally up to the bridge of his nose. It was an angry red but the color was almost purple around the edges and bled freely.

"Peter! Get the car! We have to go to the hospital!" Sirius called, and Remus put the hand back over his face. The boy with light brown hair ran past the camera to the cars, apologizing over and over. And the camera changed scenes.

Now it was dark out, the stars lighting up the night sky along with fairy lights strung up. The people there were dressed in fancy dresses or long-sleeved collared shirts and slacks. One woman had red hair tied into an elegant bun, adorned with pins that sparkled, had on a wedding dress that was to the floor and flowy. The bodice was covered in jewels that shone when the light reflected off of them. She was dancing with an eighteen-year-old Sirius.

"You really do look beautiful, Lily," Sirius told her before spinning her around and dipping her. She giggled and replied with a "And so do you, Sirius." They kept dancing for a moment until Lily looked away and then quickly turned back to him. "So?" She asked, and Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So what?"

Lily rolled her eyes and gestured to two guys dancing, one in a tux and one wearing black slacks a light blue collared shirt. The one in a tux had glasses and unruly black hair that looked like it had a bad attempt at flattening it. The man in the blue shirt had a large scar across his cheek from his jaw to his nose and freckles covering his face. His soft honey-colored hair was fluffy and hanging over his face. They seemed to be laughing and having fun as they spun each other around. "When are you going to propose to Remus?" She asked, and Sirius stopped for a moment before he continued the small patterned dance.

"How did you know about that?" It was in a hushed tone, but the camera still picked it up. "I was in your flat getting the planner that James left, and I found it when I looked in the couch cushions. Turned out the book was under your bed." She was practically laughing as she told him, purely because of the shocked face. "Besides, it's not like it's a big secret, anyway. You give him this look every time you see him, and he does the same. I'm surprised he hasn't proposed to you yet." Sirius contemplated her words for a moment and offered a small smile. "Thanks, Lils. Oh! I think James wants to dance with you." He nodded his head behind her at the man with black hair.

He held out his hand to Lily and bowed. "Can I have this dance, my dear wife?" Lily giggled and freed herself from Sirius' arms, taking his hand. "Why you can, my dear husband." James chuckled and led her away from Sirius. Remus took her spot, resting his head on Sirus' shoulder as Sirius put both hands on Remus' waist. "Hello, love. Enjoying the wedding?" Sirius asked, and Remus shrugged.

"No matter how many times James said he would marry her, I never actually thought it would happen," Remus spoke freely, and Sirius laughed at the bluntness. "I don't blame you. It took him six years for a date, and I was worried he would screw something up at one point." Sirius responded, then caught sight of the camera on them, and his eyes widened. He murmured something to Remus and let go, walking to the camera.

"Peter! How much did you get?" Sirius asked, staring straight at them. "Almost all of your dance with Lily." The person behind the camera responded, and Sirius groaned and ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at Remus. "Please don't show this to Remus, I don't know when I'm going to do it, and I definitely don't want Remus to find out because you showed him this video." Peter spoke again, "Of course not, Sirius. I wouldn't want to ruin your plan."  "Thanks, Petey." Sirius flashed a grateful smile then walked back to Remus, spinning him around twice before dipping him and kissing him madly.

The screen changed again, showing young kids all wearing black shorts and white t-shirts, holding water guns. It looked like James, Lily, Peter, Remus, and Sirius in a line, in that order. They looked to be about fifteen and were standing in a large grassy field, a large stone manor off to the side. "Mum, are you recording?" A young James asked and someone out of shot responded. "Yes, hun. Am I going to be recording this entire thing?" James nodded eagerly and started talking. "Ok, I don't know if this will ever be put somewhere public, but we're recording this because we want to. Maybe we can show our future kids. Eh, Evans?" He turned to the redhead next to him and she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Really, Potter? I'm only here for Remus, and that's cause he's almost my brother. I am not here for your terrible attempts to get a date." She huffed and moved in between Remus and Peter to escape James. "Alright, I'll leave you alone. But anyway, it is our dear Remus' birthday and being the genius that he is, came up with the best idea for us to do. Tie-dye war!" He held the water gun above his head, the dark liquid sloshing around inside.

"All of our water guns are filled with a different tie-dye color. So we are going to put these goggles on so we don't get any in our eyes- Sirius will you get the goggles?" Sirius walked off-screen, coming back a moment later and passing out the goggles.  He returned to his spot in line and snapped his own pair on. "So. How this works is we just shoot each other until everyone is colored. The person at the end of the game who has the whitest shirt gets to give each one of us a dare later tonight when it gets dark and we set up a fire. Does everyone agree?" James looked down the line and got smiles and nods from everyone. "Ok, then. Mum, on the count of three?" He looked toward the camera as he said it, and the woman behind it immediately started the countdown.

"Three... Two... One... GO!!"

All of them took off, running in different directions trying to hide. Remus, before taking off, managed to shoot each of them with a long stripe down their backs, so that if they stood in a line you could see it. He ran to the side, hiding behind a large tree out so the camera didn't see him. There was a loud shriek, however. Remus ran out from behind the tree, Sirius following right behind him, shooting him with the gun so his back had turned into splatters of navy blue. Remus ran behind a large rock, out of Sirius' view. So he turned his attention to Lily, who was standing near a mound of wildflowers. Her eyes widened almost comically wide, and Sirius aimed for her shirt.

As he shot the dye, Lily was shoved out of the way by James, "Noooooooo." whose front was now almost completely blue as he laid in the grass. Lily knelt down beside him. "Why are you so dramatic?" She placed a kiss on his cheek then ran off, leaving him to be attacked by Remus, who had now left his place from behind the rock to take his turn at the sitting duck. No one noticed Peter and Lily from behind the trees, sneaking up on the group. Then they yelled, "CHARGE!!" and everything was fair game. Hot pink and navy blue and dark green and pastel blue and mint green were flying through the air, all of the colors landing on the others. Well, on most of the others. When the game was finished, Remus had won with his shirt only partly covered in color, the majority of his front was white. The others were completely covered in a mix of colors, hardly any white spots.

They stood back in the line, eyeing Remus with jealousy as James' mother declared him the winner.

TW: Mentions of Child abuse, blood

It was dark again, and they all had blankets wrapped around them, huddling in front of a fire. The camera shifted a bit then was still. "James, honey. I'm going inside to make sure dinner is done, your father will be home soon. The camera is set up in that chair so it can see you all. Don't do anything too reckless." The woman's voice was back. James smiled and looked above the camera. "Thanks, mum. I love you." "Love you too, James."

"OK, since I won, I get to give you each dares!" Remus bounced to his feet and the others groaned. "Should have known you were going to win, mate. You're too smart for your own good." Remus chuckled at Peter's remark and walked around the circle, eyeing them as he passed. He stopped in between Lily and James, smirking at them. Lily's smile dropped. "Remus Lupin I swear to Merlin if you do what I think you're going to do-"

"Oh, don't worry Lily. This is in your favor. Kind of." He waved her off with his hand. "Lily, I dare you to kiss James." Lily looked shocked, and James was elated. She stuttered, and Remus bent down to whisper something in her ear. He stood back up and smiled, but Lily only returned a glare. "Fine. I'll do it." She stood up and took a step closer to James, pecked his lips for less than five seconds, and sat back down. James had a large grin on his face, as did Remus.

"Ok, James. Your turn. I dare you to not ask Lily out for two months." James' grin fell and Sirius roared with laughter at his face. James glared at Remus and huffed. "Ok, then. Only cause it's your birthday. And cause it's getting a little old." Remus' grin spread and he walked back to Peter. "I know you don't like anybody, so I'm giving you something different. Jump off the tree. The small one, of course. I don't want you getting hurt." Remus motioned to the short tree next to them, and Peter stood up, dropping the blanket on the ground where he was.

He walked over slowly, climbing up as high as he could, which was only about four feet off the ground since it was a small tree. "You'll be fine, Petey!" Sirius called at his hesitation, and he yelled back, "Ok!" before jumping off. He rolled once he reached the ground, spinning once or twice before he stopped, sitting on his knees. He held his head for a moment before staggering up and back to his spot on the ground. Sirius clapped him on the back and looked to Remus, who sat beside him.

"Ok, Remmy boy. What's my dare?" Sirius asked, and Remus put a  hand on his chin in mock contemplation. "Kiss me." It was clear what he said, but Sirius still exclaimed in shock. "What?" Remus stumbled over his words at the reaction but stopped the moment Sirius grabbed the top of his shirt and smashed their mouths together roughly, getting catcalls and wolf whistles from the other three. Sirius pulled apart, breathing heavily and still holding onto his shirt.  "Was that a good dare?" Remus asked, and Sirius responded by kissing him again.

The footage changed once again. The room was filled with candles and it looked romantic. Sirius was standing in a white button-down and black slacks, his hair neatly parted. "Remus, can you come in here for a moment, love?" Sirius called, and a voice came from behind the door. "Just a minute, Siri! I'm making dinner!"

"This is more important than dinner!"

"Fine, fine!"

Remus came into the room, wearing just a jumper and jeans. He looked around at the candles, breathless. "Holy shit, Pads. This is amazing." He stepped forward cautiously, making sure to not knock any over. He looked Sirius up and down before practically jumping on him and kissing him madly. After a moment he put his feet back on the floor, still holding onto Sirius' shoulders and their foreheads together. "This is so beautiful, Sirius. I don't deserve this."

"You deserve the world, Remus. That's why I did this. And also so I could teach you to dance." He moved them into a waltz position, one hand holding onto Remus' hand and the other on his hip. Remus copied the position. "I know I suck, but why teach me?" Sirius chuckled and began the movements with no music. "We may need it someday. You never know." He placed a kiss on his nose and spun him, making a candle knock over. But it didn't catch on fire. Sirius took note of the shocked face and chuckled. "The ones on the floor are fake, I know how clumsy you are."

The footage changed once more, with a Sirius sitting in front of the camera and adjusting it, his dark hair curtaining his face. "Love, what are you doing?" Remus's tired voice came from behind, and Sirius finished with the camera, backing up and sitting next to Remus on a light blue couch, grabbing his hand. Both were sitting in Christmas pajamas and a tree was in the background, the colorful lights standing out against the grey walls. It had to be the previous Christmas or the one before since both men looked almost the exact same.

"Sirius, it is eight-thirty in the morning. I want to go to sleep. So, please, tell me what I'm doing so I can pass out until we have dinner with Peter, James, Lily, and Harry. I'm quite sure Marlene and Dorcas are going to come. And there's no doubt that Lily invited Frank and Alice, who are going to bring Neville. So that's seven other adults and two children. I need energy for this bullshit."

Sirius chuckled, kissing Remus' hand quickly. "Yes, love. I know. But I wanted to film a video while I had the idea. And I won't even think of posting it till you're comfortable with being out." Sirius smiled at Remus, who rolled his eyes. "Fine. What this amazing idea you had to wake me up for."

Sirius let go of Remus' hand to turn around and pick up a notepad that was sitting on a table just behind the couch. "Terrible pick-up lines." He grinned, and Remus groaned, grabbing a throw pillow and pressing it over his face. "Do you really have to? On this Holy day?"

His voice was muffled by the pillow, which just made Sirius chuckled again.

"Yes. You know I'm an atheist. So come one then, love. It'll be fun."

Remus took the pillow off his face, grumbling, "Tell me why I married you again."

"Because I'm handsome and you love me." Sirius grinned, and Remus grumbled something the camera didn't pick up. But it was enough to turn Sirius a tad bit pink. "Well yes, that too. But anyways."

Remus smiled at his flustered husband and looked at the camera, eyebrow raised. "So are you just going t say random pick-up lines, or are they all Christmas themed?"

Sirius shrugged, running over the list. "Little of both. I just wanted to see your reaction to some of these, considering you don't get embarrassed easily."

"I probably will since one, it's you and I'm one hundred percent sure that at least three-quarters of those are going to be dirty, and two it's on camera so you will definitely be using this against me in the future."

"Nah. Only half of them are dirty. So, can I start asking them?"

"Fire away, love."

Sirius smiled and kissed Remus quickly, then pulled his finger down the line until he found one that made him smirk. Remus' own smiled dropped lightly, trying the read the list upside down before Sirius pulled it away quickly. "Tch. Nope."

Remus groaned again and Sirius smiled before reading one of the lines.

"Good thing I have my library card, cause I'm checking you out."

He added a wink to the end of the line, and Remus shook his head.

"I sure hope you do, considering we're married."

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly and huffed before reading the next.

"You stole my heart, so can I steal your last name?

ubnbnubnnu9n9ubn9ne9uvnvnfsvns9nsfubnfb

Now James was holding the camera, trying to set it up on an unseen object. Remus was behind him, shaking his head.

"Let me do that, James. I usually help Sirius so I know how to do it."

"Sure. Knock yourself out, Remmy boy."

Remus rolled his eyes at the nickname and moved in front of the camera, only taking a few more seconds to put it in place. He moved back and sat next to a huffing James.

"I did most of it."

"Sure you did, James."

He huffed again and leaned back on the couch, stretching out. The full extent of the room was open, and it was beautiful.

A large ornate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above the sleek leather couch the two sat on. A large cabinet with no doors behind them was full of framed photos of James and an older woman and man, smiling at the camera. A few had Sirius in them, arm slung over James shoulder amd smiling widely. More frames lined the walls of the large room, some paintings and some pictures of James and his friends.

"James, what are we doing?" Remus asked after a moment of the other doing nothing.

"My dear Remus, we are going to-"

James cut off abruptly, turning his hesd to look at something off screen.

"Did someone knock at the door?" Remus asked, and James nodded, getting up and walking out of frame. A small squek signaled the door opening, before James shouted.

"Sirius! Oh my god, what the fuck happened to you?!"

Remus jumped up and also ran off camera, coming back with James half dragging a bloody Sirius between them. They set him on the couch and he winced and cried out, his injures fully  exposed to the camera.

A large cut ran from the corner of his lip to under his eye, similar to one of Remus' s scars and still bleeding a little. His lip was busted and swollen, along with a black eye. He tried sitting up and cried out again, clutching his side in a way that suggested he broke a few of his ribs.

"Sirius, what happenened?" James repeated, and Remus held a hand out to stop him.

"Hold on, James."

He bent down, taking one of Sirius' hands into both of his own. The other was still clutching his waist.

"Sirius, I need you to tell me what happened, ok? Will you tell me?"

He let out a broken sob and leaned forward, trying to put his head on Remus' shoulder, instead yelling out once more and falling back on the couch, panting and wincing every few seconds.

"Shh, baby. Please tell me."

He lifted Sirius' hand to his mouth, kissing it gently out of the view of the camera.

"She found the letters."

It wasn't much, but Remus visibly paled when Sirius said it.

"What does he mean? Remus?" James was looking between the two, face caught in a worried expression. Remus turned to him, lip caught between his teeth.

"We wrote letters back and forth instead of texting. His mother found them."

James paled too, and walked closer to the couch.

"James, the camera. Get the camera. We'll have to show this tape to the court."

Remus stood up, placing a gentle kiss to Sirius' forehead and leaving the room while James walked quickly towards the screen, looking angry amd scared all at the same time.

It went back to just Sirius.

"I am so sorry, I did not know that taoe was in there. I apolgize if I have triggered something for any of you."

[valkblue]

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department. 

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 1 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 2,486 Story status: Complete Rating: General Warning: people swear a lot, technobabble counts as swearing as well (believe me)…

Author’s notes: This is the first time I post a fanfic online. A real big one I mean. Not just crackfics... I’m emotional. I don’t know what the schedule will be yet because my queue is acting up, but everything should be out regularly, or something that looks like it. This first chapter is an intro to the main character and what she does, and I hope you’ll enjoy this story and its characters all the way!  Also, I really want to thank @pheedraws​ and @something-tofightfor​ for their heartwarming feedback on the whole story. Thank you SO much!!

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are open! 💙

— Chapter 1

Now wasn’t a good time to yawn…

And yet, Vivian had nothing else to do but wait right now, wait while the progress bars slowly filled up on her tablet screen.

Now wasn’t the time, simply because some of her colleagues were passing through the hallway, behind the glass panels of her cubicle, and among them was the head of Behavior department — incidentally, her superior.

No doubt they were all about to grab a bite at the restaurant and Vivian held back an almost envious mumble; she was starving! But before she could go eat anything, she had to finish with her last subject on her morning schedule; host ID#DH410829420391, named Mildred.

And Mildred was back at the lab on account of a negative report about her response time during interactions with other hosts but also with guests. A lag that only happened in character mode, not in analysis. So, Vivian started with refreshing her lexical base and improvisation engine. It took some time to check the entire tree but as of now, it was done.

"Can you confirm if the update’s complete?"

"Confirmed," Mildred answered right away, her voice flat and her look vacant.

"Back in character mode."

Mildred seemed to wake up and blinked once before focusing her attention  back on Vivian.

"Mildred?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," she answered with a hint of a shy smile. "I must have drifted off, I believe… The working hours at the farm are ungodly sometimes!"

The response time was more than good, now. The improvisation too.

"I was wondering if there’s a lot of clients at the farm these days," Vivian asked.

The answer was not long to come.

"Certainly! Our cattle sure gives the best milk there is. No matter what the competition says!"

"How many green bottles are standing on the wall?"

Questions and procedures were always more or less the same to determine which bits of code, settings or values could cause an issue or start to glitch like crazy!

But today, for Mildred — and Vivian — everything was back in order, and each/both of them could soon return to the the usual course of their scheduled day.

It was about time for Vivian to take a break, if she was reduced to that kind of wisecrack…

A glance at her wristwatch, even while her tablet displayed a more accurate time than the watch hands, and Vivian concluded her analysis. She folded the tablet, slid it back in her jacket pocket, and left the large glass room after one last embarrassed look at Mildred she was leaving there, naked in the dark. Vivian didn’t even fight down a shiver. It was actually freezing cold in there!

She comforted herself with the thought that Mildred didn’t feel anything in this state, disconnected, and that a team wouldn’t take too long to come get her, do her hair, dress her up and put her back in rotation in no time. Barely as much as Vivian had for her lunch break… and that was just enough to go all the way up to the hub restaurant. But the bosses here didn’t care much about how long the lunch breaks lasted, as long as the work was done in time.

So, Vivian didn’t hurry to get to the elevator she shared with two co-workers who only interrupted their chitchat about hockey results for a vague greeting.

At this hour, the restaurant was a bit more crowded but it still wasn’t too hard to find a seat in the large and relatively peaceful room. The whole vibe in it was corporate though, even in that staff only room; every dish were stamped with the park logo and name — from the bottom of the plates to the salt shakers — and a flat HD screen displayed a bunch of Delos branches ads that looked much weirder without sound.

After a while, one didn’t really pay attention to all this anymore… A few months was enough to make it all part of the landscape and for the mind to simply stop noticing it.

And Vivian had been working here for three years, now.

However, she was still bothered by a few details sometimes, such as the huge white walls that spanned all the way up a balcony floor and a domed ceiling or the fact that the stalls were lit with a pale light under which the food turned to a sickly colour.

Hopefully, under the less saturated lights of the main room, the Caesar salads and the turkey-tomato sandwiches were back to a more appetizing hue.

Her tray loaded with a potato-corn salad, a big glass of water and a piece of bread, Vivian walked towards the tables, eager for her potatoes to lose their blueish glint. Just shy of the screen, she recognised a familiar face, Margaret’s, another Behavior tech from her team. Both were on friendly basis now, where it was possible to enjoy some time together and to laugh a little, even if it took them a whole year to finally break the ice.

Margaret waved at Vivian when she saw her pick her way across the room, inviting her to join them — them being Margaret, and three other guys from their department.

"Did you hear the latest, Vivian!?" she blurted. "I’ve been told that Damon Dyers is in the park, at this very moment!"

"Damon… Dyers?"

Vivian didn’t even hide her puzzlement while sitting in front of her.

"The actor," one of the three guys — Luke — pointed out. "Marge was just exposing how she’ll mooch the control room techs for a footage…"

"Listen, if you were as thirsty as I am about this guy, you’d understand!" Margaret replied.

To that, he quipped:

"My husband would be pissed!"

All chuckled in approval before returning to their almost emptied plates, while Vivian had barely touched her own.

"Can you imagine," Margaret daydreamt, leaning back in her seat as in a comfy armchair, holding her Pyrex glass like a snifter of bourbon. "Damon hunting down Escaton in the hills…"

Vivian scoffed; she could imagine, indeed.

At the table, Charles, Thawal and Luke didn’t pay any more attention to them, carrying on with their chat about retro gaming. Vivian would probably have preferred to be part of that conversation; not that she didn’t know shit about movies and their actors, but more like aside from a few exceptions on which they got along swimmingly, she didn’t have much taste in common with Margaret. But she listened to her friend anyway as she kept going after a sip of sparkling water:

"How am I not supposed to be hot on the idea!? I’ll deadass find someone to bootleg me some footages!"

Vivian smiled out of politeness, not saying much, as always. Her mouth was full anyway.

"Oh, by the way!"

Margaret took another swip of her glass before putting it down on the table and leaning towards Vivian.

"Apparently, they’re going to burden us with a whole new bunch of hosts in two or three weeks," she said, with all the serious she could muster. "I heard that from Elsie. Narrative must be trying to compensate for something, if you know what I mean…"

Vivian knew very well.

"We barely have time to light a fag between two sessions already and they plan to add another hundred on our backs!?"

She snorted disdainfully.

"Don’t know what they’re spicing their coffee with but it isn’t doing them any good."

"No shit," admitted Vivian, a bit testy at the idea. "Unless they also plan to hire? Did Lowe say anything about it?"

Margaret shrugged.

"No idea, I haven’t talked to him in a while."

She patted her blazer pockets then sighed softly; Vivian understood her attitude as relief, and a craving, even a need to light a cigarette.

"You should ask," Margaret pointed out with a smile a tad clenched in the orbicularis muscles. "You like him, right?"

Vivian approved; she admired his thoroughness, his love for details… A lot could be learned while working under his care and Vivian found him both spirited and friendly.

Margaret didn’t quite share the feeling, however; in her own words, he was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"Anyway, I’m off," Margaret stated with an even greater impatience in her voice. "I gotta light one before the crazy afternoon waiting for me!"

She gathered her cutlery on her tray, adding:

"Not giving up on the idea to come across Damon fucking Dyers, though! At least in video recs. Wish me luck!"

Vivian nodded and Margaret put her tray away on the sideboard before hurrying to the exit.

Her colleagues had changed topics next to her, and now they were talking about cars, motorcycles and mechanics. As she didn’t know much about that topic, not as much as in computers, she listened only a little without taking part.

Then, Vivian finished wolfing down her potato salad and her glass of water; she would soon return to her shift and examine a series of hosts, the characteristics of which she overviewed on her tablet from her timetable’s folders. It was simply routine checks, and Vivian liked that kind of sessions; it was like meeting with a friend, just to catch up with them.

But for now, she would take a few minutes to get some air and natural light on top of the hub before diving back into the high tech depths of the Mesa.

At seven in the evening, closer to eight, Vivian was glad to be back to her on-site apartments. Once again, she had grabbed a snack at the restaurant but the room was much more crowded than it was at lunch and came close to a headache before reaching "home". She could have dined here, cooked something on her induction hob but she was so tired — or lazy — that, tonight again, she still choose to eat at the restaurant over having to do the dishes!

Now, she was getting out of the shower in her bathrobe and throw herself on her bed.

Living like this, it was like being a teenager all over again, back at her parents’, or at the dorm… but once she closed her apartment’s door, Vivian was totally free to do whatever she wanted. As long as it didn’t involve wrecking the place!

But now, even if she wanted to, Vivian wouldn’t have had the strength to break any chair, nor even to make a mess of the bed… About that, she was actually planning on laying there, and falling asleep in her bathrobe while watching a movie or reading any book she had available on her personal tablet. A tablet that was nothing close to the one she was using every day in the Behavior department labs, but a tablet anyway.

She swiped the covers without any real interest; in all honesty, she was feeling too tired to read. Even something she had already read. And she cringed a little when the minimalistic cover with her automatically signed name appeared.

Yeah, even too tired to read her own words!

Besides, it wasn’t great literature at all — a fanfiction. Two, to be precise. Both about the hosts and their narratives as she could have written about a movie, book, or video game’s characters.

Vivian grumbled, letting her tablet fall flat on her stomach, and she stared at the white ceiling before closing her eyes while nibbling her lips. She had written this almost six months after she started working here, taken over by all the motivation, excitement and creativity around her!

She refocused on herself since but, in the meantime, she wrote these. And even though Vivian considered herself to have a fertile imagination, she still commended herself about how better for everyone it was she hadn’t applied for a job in Narrative…

Rising her tablet up again and tapping on the lit screen, she entered the file and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the grammar mistakes she stopped committing since; and mistakes aside, her stories had nothing exceptional, totally influenced as they were by her mood and the not-so-new-but-still-trendy storyline — Escaton’s and his bandits, essentially…

Over a very short time, when Vivian was still more or less trying to fit into the life of the facility and social circles of her co-workers whose names had yet to be caught, she had heard so many comments, appreciations and reviews for this narrative that she looked into it first.

After all, the park afforded Lee Sizemore, renowned author who made a big name for himself with a "hot and grimy" historical saga, a few years back before running out of puff under his editor’s pressure. And a juicy offer by a video game studio to adapt it. 

She understood; everybody, whether staff or guests, was more or less hyped by the brute force brought by Hector Escaton — virile and dark male figure — to the relative tranquility of the park’s starting point.

And Vivian had been no exception.

If her first story was only about made-up characters to explore the pleasing and well rounded context of Sweetwater, her second, on the other hand, was more audacious, altering shamelessly the story from what its authors had surely intended; victorious over the town after killing the sheriff and all opposition, Escaton and his gang enjoyed their plunder at the Mariposa where Hector fell for one of the saloon girls.

That being said, Vivian remained very proper — maybe totally prudish — in these sort of narrative fantasies of hers; nothing turned freaky or utterly violent…

All she did was throwing a few sentences on her writing app for some evenings, when inspiration struck or simply because she urged herself to follow through with what she started. All on her personal tablet. She knew better than to write that on anything system-tethered. Imagining that a bored somebody could just hack into the system all the way up to her personal data… and end up on that giddy nonsense, made her wants to puke!

Not to mention that it might also be forbidden. Even though she never planned to, she knew she couldn’t share it with anyone, nor anywhere. Not as a park employee. If the guests were writing critiques and other reviews online about their stay, herself couldn’t talk about it from the inside. Confidentiality and shit…

Her texts would remain secret, and her silly fantasies with them. In any case, it wasn’t as if she intended to try anything for herself, and even less with Hector Escaton, all the more since he wasn’t even part of the batch her team had in charge. And also, rumor has it that fantasies aren’t always good when act upon!

With a lazy tap, Vivian quitted the reading app and dropped the tablet on her sheets before burying her face in her soft pillow. She let out a deep sigh in it, relaxed, and in fact, she fell asleep almost right away.

[nonstoplover]

some kind of beautiful ~ Tom Holland (song drabble)

my masterlist │my song drabbles

song used as inspiration: tyler ward ft. lindsey stirling ~ some kind of beautiful

words: 3.3K

approximate reading time: about 15 mins

a/n: i listened to this song and got struck by a wave of inspiration lmao i love tyler and lindsey (and oh my gosh that music video o.O), this song is just adorable and i immediately imagined this with my baby Tom so here you go. i hope you enjoy xx

The headlights cast a warm yellow beam on the road ahead of Tom as he drives in complete darkness. Earlier it was probably raining as the asphalt sparkles underneath the ray of light, something that doesn't surprise him anymore. Whenever he's driving north to see his girlfriend, it's almost always like this. In England, rain is something that comes a permanent part of your life, Tom learned that early.

He suppresses a yawn, raising a hand from the steering wheel for a moment to rub his eyes, then changes the song that's playing from the speakers. A familiar tune immediately fills his ears, and his lips curve into a wide smile. It's their song.

His mind fills with memories of her and the previous exhaustion he felt is long gone. It doesn't matter anymore that he just attended a premiere of his newest movie last night. It doesn't matter anymore that he got up early to jump on the first plane and fly home, then got into his car right away and set off towards Liverpool immediately without a single moment to rest.

He just has to see her. He has to tell her that he wants them to move in together. It's all that has been in his mind for the past week or so, and he knows he has to tell her about it before he goes absolutely crazy. He prepared all the most perfect reasons in his mind, so she just can't say no. And it's way more important than something that could be talked about in a text conversation.

Whenever he's away from her - and for some unknown reason, especially this last time - he misses her non-stop. Her scent. Her touch. The glimmer of her eyes whenever she looks at him, and only him. The way her lips curve into a smile. The sound of her angelic laugh in his ears. The taste of her lips against his. The delicate, feather-like touches of her fingers against his skin. How peaceful she looks when she's asleep in his arms. How happy she makes him just by existing.

He remembers clear as day the first time he saw her, three years back in a café in London. Looking at her made the entire world fade out in his eyes and he still can't comprehend how on Earth he got so lucky that the only empty table was right beside hers. He accidentally heard what she and the other girl at the table - her sister she was visiting, as Tom later found out - talked about and apologetically joined in the conversation with his opinion on the matter. Two and a half hours later Tom left for a meeting with her number saved in his phone.

Within fifteen minutes he had already asked her if she'd wanted to meet with him with a bold and cheeky text, which then led to them spending as much time together as possible throughout the following eight days she stayed in London - with Tom's job and (y/n)'s primary reason, being with her sister in the way. Then she went back to Liverpool and took a part of Tom with her.

They kept in touch, texting every waking moment, driving everyone around them mad with the constant typing and smiling at screens. And a month later Tom drove up north for the first time, visiting her for the weekend. He asked her to be his girlfriend. She said yes. And they have been in a long distance relationship ever since. It was hard, but whenever they could see each other, it made it worth it.

And now he's going to take it to the next step - asking her to move to London.

His cheeks are hurting from the wide smile that stays fixed for the entire drive as he now drives down familiar streets, leading to her. He pulls into the first parking spot he catches sight of around her apartment block, stops the engine and rushes out of the car, right towards the front door without even glancing at his watch to see how late it is.

Tom takes the stairs two at a time, not slowing his speed for one second until he's right outside her door. He presses the switch of the doorbell, then leans forward, supporting himself with his palms on his knees to catch his breath. From inside he hears the soft padding of feet growing louder, then the key clattering in the lock and eventually the door opens.

(y/n) gasps as her eyes take in those very familiar soft, brown locks. "Tom?" She lets out in question.

The mentioned boy raises his head and their eyes connect right away without difficulty and the dark brown sea of his irises sparkle with a new excitement.

"Hi," he breathes out, getting lost in her sight and smell and sound. She's wearing a plain tank top and a pair of pastel sweatpants, no makeup covering her natural beauty, her hair up in a messy bun, and Tom just knows that he made the right decision driving here first thing after landing.

"What the hell are you doing here?" (y/n) crosses her arms in front of her chest, suddenly overly aware of the fact that Tom is wearing a suit whilst she's in her comfiest clothes, looking messier than ever. "You were at the premiere in LA just last night!"

"I know," he lets out a chuckle. "I drove here as soon as I landed."

"You what ?!"

"Now are you going to let me in or am I gonna spend the entire night out here in the corridor?"

"Sorry," the girl's eyes widen in realisation and she takes a step to the side to let him in.

Tom waits until the door closes back behind him, shrugging off his suit jacket in the meantime and stretching his arms as (y/n) secures the lock again. Then as soon as she turns back towards him, he grabs her waist with both hands, pulling her flush against his body.

"I missed you," he mumbles, lips almost touching hers.

"I missed you too, crazy," she whispers back, a small smile lighting up her whole face as her arms slowly snake around his shoulders and neck.

Tom wastes no time to dive in, catching her mesmerizing, inviting strawberry coloured lips in a searing kiss. Then another one. And another. He just can't get enough. And when (y/n) finally tries to move out of his touch, placing her palms against his chest to gently push him away, his raspy voice breaks the silence again.

"I know I've already kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please."

As that sweet, heartwarming, angelic giggle leaves her mouth, he goes right back in, continuing to pepper her with kisses, this time not stopping at her lips, instead moving all around her face.

"Stop! Tom, stop!" (y/n) wiggles to escape from the ticklish touch of his lips against her skin, but the muscles in his arm tense and keep her there effortlessly.

A minute later Tom eventually stops and leans back, arms loosening around her torso, but it's not like he already had enough - quite the opposite actually, but he knows she's getting overwhelmed.

"Come on, you big teddy bear, let's get you changed, then I'll give you some food," (y/n) moves a hand behind her back to lace her fingers with his, then makes her way further inside the apartment.

Arriving to the bedroom, she lets go of his hand so he can swiftly go to the bathroom whilst she rummages out the hoodie and the pair of sweatpants he left at her place during one of his stays from her closet, and then when they meet up again, Tom pulls (y/n) in for yet another lingering kiss.

With a playful roll of her eyes (y/n) moves out of his touch again, then helps him undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders before reaching out for the newly found hoodie and handing it to him.

"Get dressed, I'll be in the kitchen," she pecks Tom's cheek before placing the white shirt down on the chair on her way out, trying to leave it as smoothed out as possible.

She swiftly moves around the small kitchen, starting to make a couple sandwiches and a cup of hot tea for Tom - eventually finishing it with his help -, then they sit down on the couch in the living room and she watches him eat. At first she asks him questions about the premiere and he tries to answer, but given that his mouth is almost always filled with food, they soon give up and change the topic so instead of Tom, (y/n) tells about her past two days.

When he finishes eating and places the now empty cup and plate on the coffee table, they are finally able to cuddle, something the both of them have been waiting for ever since Tom has arrived. Their limbs are tangled and his arms are wrapped around her body in a way that makes her feel safer than ever. (y/n) clings into the material of the hoodie as if she's afraid this is all just a dream, one that she doesn't want to end. Her face is buried in his chest and his face is buried in her hair and they both feel like a whole again after a long time of not seeing each other.

The sound of two relieved sighs break the comfortable silence of the living room at the exact same time, signaling how they are still in sync. Nothing has changed.

"(y/n)?" Tom speaks up a couple minutes later.

"Yeah?" Her sleepy voice mumbles back.

"I've been thinking," he pauses, trying to shake the sudden nervousness that he can feel sweeping in his veins. "I wanted to talk about something."

"Yeah?" (y/n) asks again, but this time much more awake, and Tom can feel her body tensing up under a millisecond before she moves a bit further from him to be able to look at his face.

"I think... well, you know, it's not like we're rushing into anything, it's been three years already, but... I've been thinking and came to the conclusion that in my opinion you should move to London. To my place."

The last part of his speech comes out so rushed that it sounds like one long word, and as soon as his voice fades out he already feels much calmer and better. The tension in (y/n)'s body loosens immediately, a slowly forming smile breaking the worried expression on her face, but still she doesn't say a word which makes Tom fall back into the nervosity and he opens his mouth to continue.

"You know, actually, I thought about everything. You should quit your job," Tom jabbers before a frown appears on his forehead and he halts to think back to what he's just said. "Okay, that sounded pretty bad, but you've already talked about wanting to quit it and find something else because you don't like it, and so I thought maybe you should find that something in London so we could be together 24/7. Or maybe I can find some job for you to do on the set of my following movies, or whatever you like, really, I just-"

"Shhh," (y/n) raises her hand to press her fingers softly against his lips in order to stop his slur. "If you would just stay quiet for a moment, please."

She watches with a small grin as his eyes widen and he shuts his mouth, nodding and making a motion with his hands as if he's zipping his lips shut.

In the new silence, the girl can finally let her thoughts wander around in her mind, finding pros and cons to his suggestion. And it's not like she hasn't thought about moving to London so many times before. Her sister's there, Tom's there, and even her family lives in Birmingham, so it's not like she would be further away from them either. And she can't deny the fact that in London there are much more job opportunities for her to find, and a much better chance to find something she actually loves and enjoys. Now she just has to say yes.

What are you waiting for?!, the small voice shouts impatiently inside her head.

She takes a deep breath and looks back in the warm brown orbs that are still watching her with the same adoration as they have been the entire night. "Okay," she mumbles.

Tom's body goes rigid, the fingers that have been subconsciously caressing the small of her back freeze in place, pressed into her skin. His eyes widen even more than before, and he gapes like a fish that's out of the water. "Okay?" He breathes back, afraid that he heard something wrong.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it too. It'd be nice to move in with you," she sheepishly answers, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Are you serious?" Tom exclaims - a bit too loud and high pitched to his liking, but he's just unable to contain his sudden excitement.

"Yes, I am."

They beam at each other, feeling overwhelmed with love before (y/n) lets out a giggle, shaking her head lovingly at the boy in front of her. "But you're still crazy for driving such a distance while being so exhausted."

"I might be, but I couldn't bare another moment without you," Tom shrugs and before the girl could exclaim against his cheesiness, he swiftly places his hands on her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss.

When they both run out of breath, they go back to the previous cuddling position, staring out into the distance at particularly nothing as they discuss the new plan more rationally. Tom feels like his heart might burst from the joy and love he's feeling at the moment, he's sure he's the happiest person on the planet.

"What do you think, how long will it take for you to pack everything up?" Tom tilts his head, glancing down at the (y/h/c) haired girl.

"Uh, great question. I have no idea," (y/n) grunts as her eyes travel around the room, already dreading the amount of time it will take her.

"We can start it tomorrow. I'll help."

"Tomorrow?" She lets out a giggle. "You really want to rush this so much?"

"Of course, I've been dreaming about this for too long now, I just want it to happen like right now."

(y/n) shakes her head before leaning up to press a chaste kiss against his jawline. "We can start tomorrow, if you'd like..."

"Nice," he grins wide.

A minute of silence comes over the flat, both of them deep in their thoughts about the near future before Tom speaks up again.

"I have a couple things to do in London during next week, but on Friday I'll come back and help you finish packing and then we can drive back together. For the last time," he mumbles, dreamily staring off in the distance, possibly seeing his words form an imagined picture in front of his inner eyes. "So, during the week you should continue packing and arrange moving out with the landlord and I'm gonna properly clean my place so it'll be ready for you and your stuff."

(y/n) takes a breath and opens her lips to give some corny answer, but before any sound could leave her, Tom continues phrasing his thoughts.

"And then when you pack everything out, we can go and buy new things together. I mean, you can decorate the whole house any way you'd like to. And then it'll officially be ours..." Tom's voice swiftly trails off as he hears a quiet sniffle.

He leans back a bit, loosening his embrace on (y/n)'s body before placing his fingers under her chin to gently make her look up at him. With almost no resistance he can lift her head and his eyes are suddenly able to take in the teary, glistening pair of (y/e/c) eyes and damp stains on the skin of her cheeks.

"Hey, are you crying?" He whispers, worry filling his mind and heart.

(y/n) sniffles again and another teardrop escapes one of her eyes, rolling down before Tom reaches out with his thumb to stop it midway. "No, I'm impersonating a fountain," she snorts, a small giggle leaving her lips. "Yes, I'm crying, dumbass."

Tom just rolls his eyes at her sarcastic answer before pulling one hand back from her body so he could fish a tissue out of his hoodie's pocket and hand it to her. "And why are you crying?"

"Because what you just described is the exact thing I've been dreaming of since I was a kid," (y/n) admits while gently pressing the material under her eyes to dry them before blowing her nose in a clearly unromantic way that makes both of them let out a short laugh.

"Ahw, darling," Tom smiles at her, pressing a peck on the now dry skin of her cheeks. "I'm glad I can make it happen."

"Me too," she grins.

They stare in each other's eyes with intense adoration, communicating through the sparkling shades and colours.

"But like there's no need to plan everything in our future tonight, let's just cuddle for now and enjoy the moment," (y/n) speaks up after a couple minutes with a chuckle. "Though you can continue planning tomorrow when we'll be packing, if you want."

Tom responds with a chuckle similar in amount of happiness, only a bit lower in tone.

"Okay. I like the sound of that," he answers before snaking his hands securely around his girlfriend's body and standing up with her in his arms.

(y/n) lets out a small squeal, immediately gripping his biceps in hope of some kind of support as if it would help if she was about to fall. Tom makes his way to the small bathroom and places the girl down on her own feet so she can start her night routine. They can barely keep a straight face as they brush their teeth, knowing that it's actually going to be an everyday thing pretty soon now.

When he finishes, Tom leans back against the sink, watching the love of his life with an amused look in his eyes as she effortlessly makes her way around the small room, reaching to the different shelves for all the skincare products she uses. Their eyes meet every once in a while, making (y/n) blush and let out a giggle from the intensity of his eyes.

It eventually doesn't take long until she's ready to sleep as well and Tom moves his arms around her once more, lifting her up in the air. (y/n) instinctively wraps her legs around his lower body, placing the palms of her hands on the back of his neck.

Reaching the bed, Tom pulls the duvet back with one hand then gently places the girl down on the mattress. He climbs in right behind her after the shortest moment and immediately wraps his arms tightly around her.

"Good night, love," he mumbles in her hair, enjoying the feeling of its smell fill his nose and lungs.

"Good night, Tom," she whispers back. "I love you."

She only pauses for a second in-between the two sentences, but by the time the last word leaves her lips, she can already feel Tom's body going limp and his breaths become more steady and rhythmical as he finally let go and drifted off to sleep, exhaustion completely taking over him as soon as he lets it. Being beside her, he subconsciously knows that he can finally let his guard down again.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

[theislehoney]

purple nights (wwx/lwj, modern au)

In late October, by the time the bookstore closes at eight, the sun has been down for hours and the streets of the university town are filled with early drinkers and the glow of streetlights. Across the street, the lights of the university are warm and steady, filling the space between the cragged oaks and the night sky. Pedestrians fill the sidewalk, walking in clumps large and small, and laughter filters through the wide glass windows of the bookstore. Only a few ever glance over to see Lan Zhan standing there, basking in the hollow silence of a shop emptied out just after closing.  

The last customer to leave let in a gust of damp, chilled air, and though the street shimmers silver with every passing set of headlights, the night is grim. It has been raining all afternoon. Lan Zhan does not relish the thought of the long walk to the parking garage where he left his car. 

With half the lights in the bookstore off, the shelves are filled with shadows. Lan Zhan is the last one left tonight, and he is just finishing the last accounting of the register when the front door groans and he looks up, surprised to see a figure in black stepping inside. The man carries a black umbrella, which he folds and shakes out over the mats by the door. Nonetheless, droplets scatter across the tiles.

"We close at eight," Lan Zhan snaps, too footsore after his shift to bother with niceties. He could have sworn he'd locked the front door behind the last customer, but he must have forgotten.  

The man looks over at him, and though he wears a black mask over the lower half of his face and his hair is hidden by a floppy hat, there is something familiar there. It tugs at Lan Zhan. 

"I know," he says, and there is something about the folds of his eyes that suggests that he is smiling. 

He leans the umbrella against the wall and strides over. He reaches up—one hand to his head and the other to his ear, to remove both hat and mask in a single, fluid motion. He drops the items into the counter and leans forward, chin in his hands. 

He really is grinning, the kind of smile that leaves Lan Zhan dizzy, and which he hasn't seen in months. 

"Even for me, Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan stares, forces himself to blink. "Wei Ying."

"That's me!"

Wei Ying is dazzling. Lan Zhan hasn’t seen him in months, his idol schedule keeping him constantly booked and traveling the world. He texts Lan Zhan constantly, peppering his grammatically obscene conversations with selfies and photos of whatever distant landscape is is traveling through, but he did not send Lan Zhan even one text letting him know that he would be in town tonight. Lan Zhan glances over at his phone to be sure, but the notifications are blank -- Wei Ying has not texted, or called, or said anything at all. 

His confusion must show. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Wei Ying murmurs. He reaches across the counter, where a thousand customers have slid their books today, and yet the gesture feels illicit. He lays his hand on top of Lan Zhan’s. His fingers are cool. “Don’t be mad at me.”

Did he come right from his last shoot? Lan Zhan’s thoughts are wild as he takes in the sight of Wei Ying. He is beautiful and otherworldly, his makeup glittering even under fluorescent lights. His eyelids shimmer gold and a tint of pink clings to his lips. Little cut stones have been affixed, a row directly beneath each eye, and they sparkle like diamonds every time Wei Ying blinks. His nails have been done as well, trimmed and painted silver, and someone has glued little charms to the nails of three of his fingers, little dangling stars and chains which catch the light and dance with his movements. The sight of him knocks the breath from Lan Zhan. 

"Not mad.” He wants to climb over the counter and wrap his arms around Wei Ying. He wants to run his thumb across the jewels beneath Wei Ying’s eyes and lick the gloss from his lips. He settles for turning his hand over to touch Wei Ying properly. “When did you arrive?" he asks.

"About an hour ago. We wrapped the video shoot early and I hopped right on the plane, which was dumb because I'm now I’m totally lagged and my legs are dead but I couldn’t resist because I have a whole weekend off—did you hear that, Lan Zhan, a whole three day weekend—and I wasn’t going to spend it cooped up in some shitty hotel room waiting for the next shoot and thinking about-—"

Lan Zhan has always been weak to Wei Ying. He pulls himself forward and across the scuffed counter; he grasps Wei Ying’s jacket and hauls him forward so that they both gasp. He kisses Wei Ying. It is instinctual. Once Wei Ying starts, he can go on and on until he doesn't remember where he started. Lan Zhan has always loved to silence him this way, lips to lips, ever since they were graduate students together, curled into cold stone alcoves on campus and making out when they should have been studying. 

Wei Ying lips are slick with gloss, and Lan Zhan kisses him long enough to get a bit of a taste of it, to tug at Wei Ying’s bottom lip gently and then settle back. He does not let go of Wei Ying’s wrists. 

Wei Ying blinks at him, hazy and startled. As his eyes refocus, his lips quirk up into a smile. He twists his wrists around so that he can grab Lan Zhan in turn, and the charms glued to his nails tickle Lan Zhan’s wrists. 

“You flew like this,” Lan Zhan says, hardly a question at all. 

“I did.” Wei Ying’s grin widens. “Got some looks, that’s for sure.”

Lan Zhan will climb across the countertop if that’s what it takes. His gaze sharpens. 

Wei Ying laughs. “Nothing more than looks, I promise! Besides I kept the mask on most of the time anyway, so everyone kept their distance.”

“Hm.”

“Really! Lan Zhan, I swear.” He leans forward and presses his fingers against the bones of Lan Zhan’s wrists, hard enough to send shivers down his spine. All heated thoughts of others watching Wei Ying, admiring him, melt away. 

“Why? Do you think they were interested in me?” Wei Ying asks, pairing the questions with a comical shimmy of his eyebrows, wild enough to make Lan Zhan smile. 

“I wore it for you, you know.” Wei Ying shifts and his hands slip free. He reaches up to brush his fingers across the jewels fixed beneath his eyes, a delicate touch. “I mean, it was for the shoot, but after we wrapped I looked in the mirror and I thought: Lan Zhan would love to see me like this. So I ran out before the stylists could get at me.” For the first time, Lan Zhan notices that his clothes are unique as well—made in his customary all black, but cut at jarring angles and layered in a way too strange to be anything by purposeful. He looks like his clothes have been cut apart and reassembled incorrectly. They are likely designer, and even more likely expensive. Lan Zhan can’t stop staring at him. 

“Jiang Cheng is going to be pissed.” Wei Ying sounds nearly delighted. 

“Wei Ying.”

He looks up from his perusal of his outfit.

“I need to finish totaling the register, and I need to lock up.”

He nods and flicks his fingers in a gesture that says: go on then.

“Then we are going back to my place, I will fuck you until you see stars.”

Only Wei Ying can make him say things like this.

“Mark your words, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying purrs. “I’m going to hold you to that.” 

Lan Zhan drags his gaze away and goes back to the register. The numbers on the page swim before his eyes for a second and he freezes, pen lifted.

“Can I help with anything? I cleared the weekend—I told you that already, but I wasn’t lying, I really cleared the whole weekend—so I’m yours. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

Lan Zhan grips the edge of the counter to steady himself. 

“Go stand by the door,” he orders. “Try not to drip on anything.”

The words come out harsher than he means, and Lan Zhan would curse at himself, but Wei Ying is already nodding and gathering his hat and mask from the counter and striding over to the door. He slouches against the frame in a move that would not be out of place for a photoshoot. Thus posed, he refuses to look away from Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan is going to devour him. 

The accounting is harder than it should be, tonight. Lan Zhan has to check the columns three times before he is sure that he has the numbers right. He closes the account book and pulls the drawer, then takes it to the safe set into the wall to lock away. 

That done, he retrieves his coat from the stand where he hung it when his shift started this afternoon and shrugs it on. It is long, the color of tea mixed with cream, and made of wool. Unsuitable for weather like this, which will soak it and leave his coat-closet smelling of wet sheep for days. He snags the keys from the counter. He turns off the last of the lights. The store falls into darkness, only the lights in the window display remaining on.

“Ready?” Wei Ying asks. The lights from the streetlamps limn Wei Ying with a mercury glow. 

Lan Zhan nods. They step out and stand beneath the awning. It is hardly raining, now, but the chill of the storm clings to the air as a kind of mist, different from the kind that curls out from between their teeth when they exhale. He turns back and locks the door.

Wei Ying crowds close, threading his arm through Lan Zhan’s and pulling until they are side to side. He is warm, the kind of searing heat that Lan Zhan craves. 

A whole three days of Wei Ying. It seems impossible. 

Lan Zhan reaches over and curls his fingers around Wei Ying’s wrist. He slips beneath the edge of the sleeve, feeling Wei Ying’s pulse steady and sure. Something in Lan Zhan sings in response. 

Wei YIng glances over. He grins. His eyes shine, bejeweled and strange and more beautiful for all of that. 

He opens his umbrella, and they step out from beneath the awning, into the rain. 

—

[song inspo: pporappippam(보라빛 밤)]

[spartanbunjase]

This week’s server sunday random dialoge prompt was:

I continued my Jason Todd/Ra’s al Ghul fic. 

Warnings: mpeg, omegaverse, Bruce is rude but he is trying. 

All the Batfam are involved. 

The Batcave was silent. Jason had been missing for close to six months. His safe houses completely stripped bare, even set alight in some cases. The family had been suitably worried. All except Damian, his only change in behaviour being how oddly quiet he’d gotten.

 They all assumed it was because he was missing the one person from his early years who cared for him. They’d pulled him into the centre of their group as they stood around Bruce at the computer. The head of their family had a dark pensive look on his face. Which wasn’t anything new for the brooding alpha. Especially not while he was wearing his ‘night’ suit.

 “Robin,” the man growled. The family tensed. It was never good when he addressed you by your code name. The boy let slip a small whimper, trying to hide behind Dick as if he knew what was about to come. “You knew didn’t you. You know where Jason has been this whole time and didn’t tell any of us.”

 Before the pre-teen could resist the pack alpha pulled up video footage from outside one of Jason’s old safe houses. It was the one that most resembled a permanent place of residence. Something Jason had refused to have since coming back.

 The family watched as the pair exchanged words then hugged. Jason handed the small alpha a package and gave him a quick scenting before disappearing from view. As they watched they saw Damian slip the package into his hand and disappear too.

 The omega looked different. Lighter in a way that reminded them of the boy who’d died. His clothes were like nothing they’d really seen him wearing and there was a cuff in his ear that sparkled so much it was clear on the video. He was also smiling, the family realising they’d only seen that expression on the omega’s face if Damian was around.

 Bruce then pulled up another video. This one showed the inside of Damian’s room. Dick was disgusted at the blatant invasion of privacy. Curling his arm around the young boy and holding him tightly.

 On screen Damian opened the parcel and pulled out a phone. It was a basic model, cheap and easily replaceable. They all knew what they were for. Calls that were difficult to trace. Bruce had cut the video so it skipped forward to the following morning. The young alpha awoke and immediately picked up the phone. Punching in a number he clearly knew by heart. The call lasted half an hour, the pup getting visibly more relaxed as the time passed.

 Next to appear on screen was a file filled with similar videos. One for each day of the six months Jason had been missing. Realisation dawned on the family.

 Damian knew.

 Damian had watched them running themselves ragged looking for the man. Had heard the distress from his brothers as they cried on their father when safe houses were found burned down and no reports of Red Hood had been heard anywhere in the Underworld. Each wondering if they’d pushed him away and triggered whatever meltdown caused him to run.

 Unable to control his reactions as the titanium box he kept around his temper shattered, Dick pushed Damian away. Screaming in frustration as tears poured down his face.

 The young alpha looked heartbroken. He’d anticipated a bad reaction, he just hadn’t expected to get pushed away. To be outcast, rejected, in a manner similar to how they’d acted towards the omega in question.

 “Where is he?” Bruce turned on his youngest. The Bat wrapping around him so he didn’t display the difficult emotions he was feeling. “Where is our pack omega Robin?”

 The pup seemed to turn in front of their eyes. Gone was the distressed child. Now he was the embodiment of his parents stoicism. Damian pulled the phone from his pocket and hit dial.

 After two rings a sleepy voice came over the line. “Pup? What’s wrong, you’re earlier than normal.” It was Jason. Their omega. He didn’t sound hurt or lost. He didn’t sound unstable like one idea that had been put forward. He just sounded sleepy and, apart from the obvious anxiety over his pup calling, strangely calm.

 “Nothing is wrong Ummi,” Damian said. He quickly changed to League Arabic. “The family discovered that I knew where you were but I didn’t want to tell them until you were ready so I phoned you instead.” The young alpha watched Bruce twitch at the language swap. He’d never taken the time to learn League Arabic; never having the intention of needing it. Damian had no plans to teach him either. There were only two people in the family who knew it and both were talking via the phone.

 “Ugh, seriously,” Jason groaned. Dick could just picture his brother running a frustrated hand through his hair. He wasn’t speaking Arabic, luckily. Although there was the edge to his voice indicative of a man who’d spent his early years speaking exclusively in Spanish.

 Tim stepped between the youngest Robin and their father. Hands held out in a placating manner. “Hey Jay, it’s Tim. We just want to know where you are, that you’re safe, and that you’re happy. We know Damian didn’t intend to let us worry as he did, he did a bad thing for a good reason. Just, please Jay.” Everyone present could tell he was using his victim voice. The one they all had a variation on that they used to help calm the victims and get the most evidence from them.

 The omega let out another groan. It sounded like he was rolling over in bed. Sheets being untangled as Jason cursed quietly in Spanish. “Sorry about that Baby Bird, just getting comfortable as I have a feeling this isn’t going to be a quick call. Yes, I’m fine. I’m safe and, excusing this phone call that’s woken me up far too early, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

 The family felt the guilt land over them like a thick blanket. They’d not managed to make him happy. A pack filled with alphas and betas hadn’t managed to make their only omega happy. How much had they failed him that that was the case. What hadn’t they done to let him know how much they loved him.

 A smooth, recognisable voice suddenly came over the line. Slightly muffled as they spoke more to Jason than the phone. “Why are you on the phone so early my Beloved? You must get your rest.” Damian’s cheeks flushed as he listened to his grandfather. He’d never heard the man sounding quite as fond as he did, a softness to the sharp edges that made the man. The man was right of course. As it was around eight in the evening in New Jersey it’d be closer to six in the morning for the couple.

 The Bat growled. Ra’s al-fucking-Ghul had his son, his pack omega. It didn’t make any sense. Jason wasn’t one to be easily manipulated; so why was he there?

 Another curse came across the line, almost as if Jason had forgotten he was still on the call. “You calm down, right now B! I mean it! Otherwise I’ll come get my pup and you know it’ll be bloody.”

 Bruce looked like he was going to murder someone, fists clenching and straightening out as he tried not to punch something. Dick, however, was too lost in nostalgia to notice. His little brother had been chopping and changing between English and Spanish. An adorable behaviour he’d always had in the mornings. It was another thing he’d not heard his Little Wing do since before his death. The list now suddenly inexplicably very long. Well, no, there was an easy explanation but Dick didn’t want to admit to himself that he was the reason they’d not bonded.

 “If you bench Dami for doing something bad for a very, very good reason I will shoot you. Or at least order the ninjas that follow you all on patrol, on our behalf, to pull back from protecting you. Wonder how long you’ll last without it.” Jason was more awake now, ranting and cursing Bruce out in Spanish. A sure sign that Jason was getting too angry too quickly. The den mother that he’d become to Damian awakening at the imminent threat to his pup. Even if that threat was only to have something he loved and thrived with taken away. He wouldn’t let the kid suffer for something he’d asked them to do.

 Damian whined as Bruce began to growl louder. A thunderous noise that had him whimpering in fear. He’d not had a fear response like that in a long time, not since he’d been a couple of years old. The League and his mother training it out of him. The noise cut Jason off from his tirade, the man always having allowed Damian to be a kid and relax enough to have any response he needed.

 More shuffling came over the line and a whispered conversation was almost heard. More noise than words. “Okay, Beloved, if you insist.” Ra’s said, his voice getting louder as he obviously bought the phone to his ear. “My deepest apologies for all that, my Beloved is just getting dressed. He said you would know the code you needed to input in the zeta transport and he will meet you there. I look forward to having my Jason’s pup coming to stay with us.” Without waiting for a farewell the man ended the call.

 The pup could feel the eyes of the rest of the pack on him. He had deceived them all, but what was he supposed to do with how they’d made Jason feel. His Ummi was the most important person to him. Damian had just wanted them to find happiness and had known that that happiness would be found with Ra’s since he was a young pup. The man doted on his Ummi like no other alpha ever had, valuing him for his strength and mind as much as his looks.

 Training forced Damian to straighten his back and look each member of the pack in the eye. He didn’t regret what he’d done. He couldn’t. Jason had sounded happier with every call. More relaxed and closer to the Jay he’d spent many an hour with in the nest back in the palace. The pre-teen raised his gaze to meet that of his father. That sliver of fear trying to work back in was mitigated by the fact he’d be in his Ummi’s arms sooner than he thought he would be. A plan from years ago now coming into effect if he’d heard Ra’s correctly.  

 “You have something to say I presume Father.” Damian’s voice was a haughty coldness they’d not heard in years. A boy trying to hide his emotions like the man in front of him.

 “That was highly irresponsible of you. We are all coming with you to get Jason back. He is this pack’s omega, not another one of Ra’s harem.” It’s clear the pack alpha expects to be obeyed. His brain visibly blue-screening when Damian tuts at him and rejects him.

 “You seem to be mistaken Sire.” Dick cringes at Damian changing to Sire. It’s a great offence to call anyone that in America, even if it is accurate to their role in conception. It showed you place that person lower than pack, lower than anyone you have come to see as a parental figure. A role Dick is now sure Jason has filled for Damian. “I am going to see Ummi. I might send for my things, however, knowing Jason and his alpha as I do; I probably won’t have need of most of them. Richard, I am sure you will know the items I wish to have with me. Thank you for all you did for me while I couldn’t be at my Ummi’s side.”

 He cast a scathing look back towards Bruce. Green eyes ablaze with a torrent of emotion. “Jason was just reaching a point where he was going to invite all of you out to stay for a week. I will talk with him but I am sure the offer will now only extend to my siblings.” He bowed, just as he had been trained to do. Just as he’d stopped doing when Jason had returned to the family after Bruce’s disappearance in time and he’d been the Robin to Dick’s Batman.

 Without waiting any longer the young alpha marched over to the Batcomputer and input one of the codes he and Ummi had buried there years ago. Take me home. A simple code that would be verified on Jason’s end with; wherever you are is home. It overrode the tracking ability of the zeta and allowed them to travel to Nanda Parbat undetected. It would only work if the person on the other line was there to respond. The code he’d used would be wiped clean as soon as Jason accepted it.

 As the swirling light of the transport filled the bay behind the vehicles Damian cast his Sire’s pack one last look. He would be seeing most of them again just outside of the place they all felt most at home. They wouldn’t be being true to themselves. As the light enveloped him, Damian gave those present a wave.

 When the swirling light receded he found Jason waiting for him. A car idling nearby and the area clear of all personnel. Damian ran to his Ummi, fully intending to throw himself into them. Skidding to a halt when he realised why Jason had called him to Nanda Parbat instead of collecting him from Gotham. A soft curve barely visibly under the baggy t-shirt. Ummi was pregnant.

[dontcare77ghj]

Whispers

Steve x reader x Peggy x Bucky

Set in the same universe as Alone.

Non-reader POV

It had been less than twelve hours since the four of you found each other again. You’d spent about an hour talking about what happened to the four of you in your years apart before deciding to not waste any more time.

It was nearing three a.m. and Bucky couldn’t sleep. He’d spent too many years sleeping before S.H.I.E.L.D had rescued him. When it was just him, he slept decently, though he always seemed to be cold without his partners with him, and when he was reunited with Steve and Peggy he didn’t want to sleep.

Part of him was in awe the two were alive and another part of him afraid the two would be dead when he awoke. And now he couldn’t fathom the idea of sleeping. Their Y/N was alive and she was asleep next to him.

All three of his partners were fast asleep but he just couldn’t sleep. 

“I didn’t think I’d get to be this happy again.” He murmured, running a hand down Y/N’s side. “I finally get to have you all back with me again.” He said, watching the three of you sleeping soundly.

He smiled as the three of you all shifted closer for warmth. Bucky moved closer to you all and laid his arm across the three of your waists. 

“I didn’t want to go to that party last night.” Bucky admitted, staring down at Y/N’s content face. “Honestly if I’d gotten my way, we wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of going. But Stevie and Pegs forced me to leave and go to the party. 

I wanted to leave the second we arrived but then I saw Natasha and Tony rushing over to us and I just knew we couldn’t run. You have no idea how it felt to see you standing there. It was like all the oxygen left the room. 

I can’t believe we found you, doll.” He said, smiling at the H/C woman. “Being awake and having Steve and Peggy has been fantastic, I never thought I’d get one of them let alone two again, but I know what you must have felt thinking we were dead.”

When Bucky, Steve and Peggy had been reunited there had been a lot of tears. Peggy and Steve had thought he was dead for a long time and when they saw he was alive; it was like a fantasy. But once the tears dried up, they needed answers.

They’d searched for information on their missing piece for weeks. But they couldn’t find much. Some information on her club life, they found two videos of her singing and that was it. No death records, no marriage records, nothing. It was as if after the sixties she’d disappeared.

“I’m sorry we left you alone, doll.” Bucky apologized. “I promise none of us will do that again.”

“You know, most people find it easier to sleep when they’re not talking to their partners who are trying to sleep themselves.” Steve murmured, squinting as he looked over at Bucky. 

“Sorry, Steve.” Bucky said as Steve took his hand in his. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” Steve assured. “You’re not the only one who hasn’t been able to sleep.” Steve told him.

“We got her back, Steve.” Bucky murmured. “I thought she was long gone.”

“I know.” Steve agreed. “I know. But she’s here. She’s in our arms with Peggy and I think they’re both asleep. Something you should actively be trying to do.”

“I don’t think I can, Stevie. Because if I wake up, she’ll be gone.” Bucky said, staring intently at the sleeping women.

“She won’t be gone; I promise you that.” Steve said, squeezing Bucky’s hand. “Just go to sleep, Buck.”

“Okay, love you punk.”

“Love you jerk.”

Peggy had been working day and night for weeks. She had been on a mission out of the country for nearly a month and all she wanted was a hot shower and to crawl into bed. 

It was almost two in the morning by the time her and her team had gotten back in. She’d broken away from the other agents and sluggishly climbed into the elevator. She’d almost fallen asleep eight times before the elevator made it to her floor. 

All the lights were out as she walked through the floor she shared with her three lovers. It had been nearly six months since they found Y/N again and she had been staying with the three for most of the six months. 

Peggy quietly opened the bedroom door and admired her three sleeping lovers. Steve was curled into Bucky’s side and Y/N was laying on Bucky’s chest. Turning away from her sleeping partners, Peggy grabbed a towel, a pair of underwear and one of Steve’s shirts before moving into the ensuite. 

Once Peggy had showered and dressed, she moved back into the bedroom and crawled in behind Steve. She leaned on her elbow and just looked at the three of them for a minute. 

“I’ll never get over how warm it is being with the three of you.” Peggy murmured, staring fondly down at her partners. “I never used to mind the cold; it was more an excuse to lay with you all. But now I loathe it. It’s the one thing I can’t stand. 

When we woke up, I was freezing, I thought it would go away after a while but I feel as if I’m still waiting. Do you remember the winter when the heat wouldn’t work? We spent days walking around that place practically wearing every piece of clothing we owned. And then one morning we just didn’t leave the bed at all. 

That was warm. I held onto that memory for weeks after Steve and I were unfrozen. I guess I thought if I remembered being warm, I’d feel it. I’m warm now, darlings, and I think it’s because of you all, thank you.”

“I seem to remember you used to complain we were suffocating you with heat.” Bucky spoke up. “I also seem to remember that you were walking around in your underwear for most of that winter.” He added, opening his eyes and smirking at the woman.

“I believe you’re thinking of Steve and Y/N.” Peggy said.

“No, I distinctly remember Steve was still a skinny thing and had to be bundled up that entire winter and Y/N walked around wrapped in a blanket until she had to go to work. You on the other hand, walked around in your underwear because it was too hot to be next to the three of us otherwise.” Bucky told her.

“Think of that as a compliment, darling.” Peggy said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Why are you awake anyway?”

“I heard you come in.” He mentioned, shifting his hold on Y/N so he could sit up and look at Peggy better. “To be honest I thought you were coming in to rob us.”

“Is that seriously what you believed?” Peggy questioned, raising a brow at the man. 

“Well you never told us when you were going to come home.” Bucky defended himself. “I did think you were a robber.”

“Well to be fair, I didn’t know when I was coming home either and thought it was too late to call when I did finish.” Peggy told him. “I’m glad to be home.” She added, leaning over to kiss the man. 

“I’m glad your home too, doll.” Bucky said. “Go to sleep, doll.” He told her once he saw her eyes begin to droop. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

His promise was the last thing Peggy heard as she drifted off.

“I’ll be over in a minute.” Steve promised, kissing the hand on his shoulder. “I have to finish this before tomorrow.”

“Alright, love you Stevie.” Y/N told him, leaning down to kiss his cheek before walking into the bedroom where Bucky and Peggy were waiting. 

It turns out a minute meant an hour. Steve had been working on his report for an hour before he decided to call it a night. He shut his laptop and moved towards the bedroom but stopped in the doorway. 

He leaned against the doorway and smiled at the sight before him. Y/N and Peggy were laid across Bucky’s chest, who had his arms wrapped around both their forms. Both women were wearing shirts that clearly belonged to him and Bucky and Bucky was shirtless with his hair pulled into a man bun. 

“I can’t believe you’re all mine.” Steve murmured, still standing in the doorway. “I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve you all but I would go through hell if it meant I get to have you all.” He said, moving into the bedroom. 

“If someone had told me back in the forties that we’d still be together now, I’d call them crazy for the suggestion. Do you remember how nervous we were about anyone finding out about this? How we used to never tell anyone where we lived and to the world, we were just friends?

I miss the forties but I hated them at the same time. I was always sick and no-one thought I deserved one of you let alone the three of you. And then we went off to war and suddenly I wasn’t little Steve any more but I didn’t have all of you.

It was me and Peg, while Bucky was fighting and Y/N was home. And then we all died. My last thought was that all those plans we’d made; they didn’t mean anything. They meant nothing because we weren’t going to be able to do them. I mean back the we wouldn’t have been able to do them anyway but when we died the plans really meant nothing.

But now there’s a chance we can do them. We can go on dates, we can be seen together in public, and people know we're all taken. We have every possibility to do everything we’ve ever wanted and it’s because we’re not in the forties anymore.” By the time he had finished his monologue, Steve had shed his short and was standing by the bed.

“How come we haven’t had this conversation while we’re all awake?” Y/N asked, rolling over in Bucky’s grip. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Steve questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“No, I was waiting for you to come in.” Y/N said. “Now back to the original question, why haven’t you ever said any of this while we’re awake?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“I don’t know. I guess I was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.” Steve shrugged as Y/N took his hand in his.

“Well, I’m awake and I’ve heard most of your plans, so you might as well tell me the rest. What do you want to do now that we have the chance?”

“I want us to have a chance at normalcy. I want to take the three of you out to dinner. I want to have a home with you all. I want us to think of having a family one day. I want us to see the world. I want the three of you.” Steve admitted.

“We want you too, Stevie.” Y/N smiled. “And we can do all those things and more. How about tomorrow we talk about seeing the world with these two?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know all the best places we could go to. But first, come to bed Stevie.” Y/N yawned, pulling back the covers for him. Steve smiled at the woman and crawled in next to her.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Steve said, pressing his lips to hers

“I love you too, Stevie.” She told him and laid her head on his chest. “Night, hon.”

And with that the two joined their other lovers in the realm of sleep.

Reader POV

The morning after you and Steve had talked, the two of you had brought the idea of traveling up with Peggy and Bucky. The two had eagerly agreed with the idea and just like that the four of you were planning. Since you had spent two years traveling across Europe, you had done most of the planning when it came to where to go, where to stay and what to do.

The four of you had been gone for nearly two weeks and were currently in a cottage in the countryside of France. You’d stayed here previously and the renter was more than happy to allow the four of you stay.

“I’m so glad I get to show the three of you this part of my life.” You whispered one night. You’d all gotten home late from a day out and had only managed to collapse on the nearby couches before falling asleep. You’d woken up shortly after to see Steve was dangling off the couch with Peggy laying on his back and Bucky had pulled you into his side.

“This was something I’d wanted to do for years. I’d almost done it in the seventies but then Tony was born and Howard wanted me to stick around so I could be in my godson’s life. And then when he got older, I planned to do it in the nineties but then there was the accident and I couldn’t leave him alone after that.

I stuck around because I could see he was spiralling and his father helped me when I did the same thing. I love that man but he is more stubborn than his father ever was. It took him a long time to stop spiralling but he’s there now. It was Tony who told me to get off my ass and stop trying to make everyone happy.

He made me go travel. I’m glad he gave me that shove but it makes me wonder what would’ve happened if I stayed. We could’ve all been reunited much sooner if I’d stuck around.” You mused, brushing some of the hair off Bucky’s face.

“But you wouldn’t have been happy.” Peggy spoke up. Turning your head to the side you saw Peggy lift her head from Steve’s back. “You would’ve been taking care of everyone else except yourself. Just like you did back then.”

“We could’ve been together for nearly three years now if I’d just stuck around.” You sighed.

“Sweetheart, if has a million meanings and none of them matter. What if we didn’t go to war? What if we didn’t freeze and Bucky didn’t fall? What if you weren’t in the lab that day? There are millions more ifs and none of them matter because we’re here now. We’re all together now.” She said, reaching over to take your hand.

“I love you, Peg. I don’t think say that enough.” You mentioned, bringing her hand up to your lips and pressed a kissed to her knuckles.

“I love you too, Y/N and you say it more than enough.” She assured you with a smile. “Now go to sleep. I overheard Steve tell Bucky he has something planned for us.”

“Love you, Peggy.”

“Love you too, darling.”

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement @hopingforbarnes @agent-barnes40 @rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @starlingelliot

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Coming soon:

Steve x reader x Thor

Natasha x reader x Peggy x Wanda

Bruce x reader x Thor

Steve x reader x Tony

Wanda x reader x Vision

[infernobot]

TEETH?

Teeth?

By InfernoBot

I had just finished recording, and was carrying my dog in from the office, when my mom handed me an envelope. Once I had my sweet pupper nestled into a blanket, I joined her on the couch and slit open my mysterious delivery. Inside was no note, just a brochure to something called ‘Furnal Equinox’ and an accompanying plastic badge bearing the image of a anthropomorphic dog, (maybe it was a wolf), wearing a graduation cap and gown.

As my eyes scanned the glossy pages, my excitement grew; some lovely person had sent me a weekend pass to a furry convention! This was my big chance to make a video detailing my adventures through a mass gathering of one of the internet’s most maligned and misunderstood subcultures. Over the coming weeks, I studied the brochure, read up on the panelists online, noted every question about the furry fandom that popped into my head. My itinerary for the whole weekend was mapped out. 

Super chats and KoFi tips managed to cover the cost of a bottom-barrel airline ticket, and I got a great deal on an Air B&B from a charming indiginous woman named Semide, whose sisters had enrolled in college and left their rooms vacant. She was even kind enough to include meals as part of the deal. The weekend of the con finally rolled around; I threw my things in a bag and I was off to Toronto.

Eighteen hours and three layovers later, I was sitting at my host’s kitchen table with a warm towel draped over the back of my neck, sipping a cup of coffee. It turned out Semide was a naturopathic healer and knew some kickin’ remedies for aches, pains and jet lag. I don’t put much stock in essential oils, but damn if I didn’t wake up feeling fresh and ready to face the day the next morning. The convention was being held on the waterfront about nine blocks from Semide’s place, not too bad for a walk, and I reckoned I could make the trek each day. 

I left late in the morning, well after the con had opened. No sense waiting in line, I figured. It was three blocks from the Westin Harbor Castle, when I saw the first fursuit. 

There was no explaining the rush of exhilaration I felt. This was real. This was happening. I was gradually being surrounded by dozens of people decked out in bright, elaborate costumes. Some that couldn’t afford full suits wore just heads and gloves, giving a ghoulish Frankenstein’s monster appearance to their character. Or the wolf-man caught mid transformation after being bitten by a neon fox in a rainbow pride shirt. The less daring, or particularly destitute, settled for headbands with animal ears and strap-on tails. 

Waiting to cross the last street, I was elbow to elbow with a giant Sonic the Hedgehog and a seven-foot tall purple giraffe sporting a quadruple-XL adult diaper. Something told me before the weekend was over, that particular garment would get filled. Before I could contemplate the logistics further, the light changed and the extremely polite, if curiously dressed herd moved into the street and we sorted into a semblance of a line being steadily processed through the doors into the main convention hall. I was in.

The lead-up to the main event hadn’t prepared me for what lay inside. A teenage girl in a ‘volunteer’ shirt thrust an opaque plastic bag into my hands before Big The Cat shoved me aside and began professing his undying love for her beauty. I stumbled into the row of booths on the main floor, further progress blocked by an electric green armadillo strumming an acoustic guitar with a stuffed fish tucked in the strings. 

This was it, I weaved my way between con-goers and took it all in. Clip-on LED cat ears. A custom-fit fang booth. Stacks of comics focused on humanoid animals. Racks upon racks of faux-leather collars and leashes. The waifu pillows. I pulled my phone from my pocket and approached the nearest open booth.

Time for an interview, I thought.

Eight hours, two energy drinks and a box of granola bars later, I was dead on my feet. There was no way of knowing how many people I’d talked to as the day progressed. Or just how strange my conversations had become. I think I spoke at length with Cool Cat about the merits of various vape pens, despite the fact I don’t smoke. But it hadn’t all been nonsense. 

Before I had degenerated into a gibbering wreck, I had chanced to be standing beside a fountain near the food court and heard a familiar warbling voice behind me. To my great delight, when I turned around I found a young woman with jet black hair, a hawaiian shirt and a black & yellow long-Furby draped over her shoulders; I instantly recognized her as Teya from Strange Aeons. After she’d finished speaking to her friend, I politely tapped her on the arm and introduced myself. She turned out to be super cool, excited to meet another youtube creator, and talked to me for about ten minutes as her girlfriend went off to wait in line for the bathroom. 

While most of our conversation centered around videos and our special boy Greg, my eyes kept getting drawn back to Thursday Plurbonym Boyporridge. His black and yellow checkered belly, his luxurious black fur, those piercing green eyes; it was all so captivating. I couldn’t quit looking at the charm necklace below his little yellow beak spelling out his name; Thursday. Eventually, I complimented her on her videos and her handsome long-son one last time and we parted ways. It had been a pleasant break, but even here, the persistent strains of Insane Clown Posse that permeated the space were grating on my nerves. 

When the time had come for all the furry folk to close up shop and head home, I staggered out into the street with all the lingering con-goers. Despite the initial culture shock, most of the people I’d met had been great. I could stand here, elbow to elbow with ponies, foxskies, giant pomeranians and adorable cat girl maids on the steps of Westin Harbor Castle, and just enjoy the last moments of the sun setting over Toronto. That is until the moment was shattered by an obnoxious voice that sounded more like it belonged outside a Patriots game accompanied by the echo of shattering beer bottles. 

“Now that the party’s over, we can get down to the afterparty at my place; which of you bitches wants to come home with me?”

My head swiveled like a tank turret toward the source of the voice, my face bearing the expression which must have read did this motherfucker just?

A man-child wearing a My Little Pony t-shirt that had been stretched over his prodigious girth, a pair of denim jorts hanging past his knees and sweat-stained socks encased in mandles, slid his oily bulk up behind a group of teenage girls dressed as some kind of anime cat maids. He leaned his acne-studded face in close to them and said, “Since you’re dressed as maids, how about I take you home and make you change my cumm-y bedsheets after a night of passionate love-making.” 

The overly-polite locals may have been in shock, but I knew a neckbeard when I saw one and knew immediately what to do.

“How ‘bout you back the fuck off bro, they’re kids.”

Maybe he wasn’t expecting resistance, but he seemed genuinely taken aback by someone speaking up. Once he got a look at me, he re-adjusted his fedora and stared me down. I admit, I might not look terribly intimidating; bulky, but not muscular, with my hair dyed bright teal and swept to one side. At least I had on a Pink Floyd t-shirt, that felt a little like a layer of protection against his fed-aura. He drew in a snot-choked breath and continued,

“They’re dressed as the maids from Painappuru No Oshiri, they’re harem girls that’re totally thirsty for the main character. Each maid is eager to bend over and present their ripe ruby star-fruit to their master. They’re, like, practically advertising how much they want it in the ass.”

“Why don’t you leave them alone, fuckmuppet?” I retorted. “You look like you're forty and they’re a bunch of teen girls.”

He was not pleased with my argument. The group of cat-maidens had shaken off their surprise and closed ranks. But they weren’t ready when he lunged forward and grabbed at the petticoat of the red cat-maid on the outside, lifting her skirts up to expose the shorts underneath.

“It’s not even a chick, it’s a dude. Chill out.”

A glance at the cosplayer’s face revealed a mask of burning red embarrassment, fear and confusion. Their friends were moving to grab at the neckbeard’s hand, but I was quicker. I swatted his arm like I was chopping down the internet itself and pushed right up in his face. Practically nose-to-nose, I couldn’t avoid the stench of fermented funyuns rolling off his breath.

“Keep. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off of them.”

His chins quivered slightly. 

“Oh, you wanna start something, Rainbow Brite? I bet you like it in the ass, prancy-boy.”

“For a supposedly straight guy, you sure are obsessed with getting your dick in a guy’s butt.”

The flab of his cheeks reddened to match his acne.

“You’re gonna regret that. I’m a man with a very particular set of skills…”

I cut him off; I didn’t have the patience for a real-life copy pasta.

“Is one of your skills getting punched by me? Cause if you keep talking, you’re going to be teaching a master class.”

I could feel that neckbeardy-bravado wavering. Perhaps he could sense the crowd around us had turned against him, moving to shield the cat-maids and staring daggers into his lumpy flesh. With one last snotty huff, he turned and stormed away; the sound of his mandles slapping on the concrete echoed off the face of the convention center. 

A group of several of the more adulty-er people had ringed the victims and were doing their best to calm them down. I shuffled over and started to apologize for the beardo’s behavior, when the red cat-maid began thanking me profusely and asked for a hug. Apparently, this was not the first time their group had been approached at the convention. We stood around chatting for a while, and they promised to check Evangelion when they got home. Once the cat-maids were safely in their Lyft, I waved them goodbye and turned to make my journey home for the night.

I started back up the street I'd taken this morning, but as I approached the doorway to a grimey building, I became aware of a fully-suited Yogi Bear propositioning a man dressed like Linda-Carter-era Wonder Woman. I was pretty wiped out and didn’t have it in me to process an altercation like this if they noticed me and instead took an abrupt right turn down an alley, intending to zig-zag back to my Air B&B. 

I was nearly out the other side when my ears picked up the slapping of mandles on pavement rushing up behind me. A searing pain burst into existence in my lower back, like someone put a cigarette out on my spine. 

I went down, hard. 

The mylar swag bag I’d been swinging around all day splashed into a puddle off to one side. I was barely able to heave myself over onto my back to get a look at my attacker. It was him. The Neckbeard. He stood over me, grinning, his yellowed teeth visible in the night. The little black box in his hand flickered with a blue spark as he triggered the taser again.

“Heh heh. You like that, princess? I aimed a little high so I wouldn’t damage your sweet ass.”

“Fuck….you….” I gasped out through the pain. My muscles were cramping like someone had dug a burning fork into my lower back and twisted it up like a plate of spaghetti. 

“Heh. You’re the one taking it in the ass, rainbow bitch.” He stepped over me, squatting like a linebacker, bringing the taser close to my face. “Maybe I’ll push this in your eyeball and see if I can make it boil.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement between his legs. Something thin and dark darted up from the shadows, toward his exposed back. He let out a cry of surprise, and shot upright, swinging his arms wildly behind him, grabbing at something. He hopped wildly from foot-to-foot across the alley, the tail hanging from the back of his pants swaying wildly with the movement. I thought it was weird I hadn’t noticed the tail before, especially with how long it was, practically sweeping the ground. The fuzzy black appendage was moving...wrong. It kept curling up and twisting out of his hands as he grasped at it, almost as if it were...alive. 

“Oh Goddamnit!” He screamed. “What the fuck, dude?!” 

He dropped the taser and got a grip on the tail with both hands, tugging on it. A ripping sound echoed through the alley as the seat of his pants tore out. The thing was, the tail wasn’t attached to his pants, it was going in through his pants, nestled between his prodigious posterior cheeks like one of those fetish plugs. As he violently jerked it side-to-side, it was ripping at the fabric of his trousers, the same went for his less-than-tidey whiteys. 

“Get this fucking thing off of me!” He howled. 

He grunted as the tail slipped his fingers and wriggled another foot inside him. Tears were welling up in his eyes and he collapsed back against a green dumpster. Like a man who had gambled on a street taco truck and lost, he bit his knuckle and gripped his abdomen through his stained t-shirt. It might have been a trick of the light, but I swear I could see his belly distend and squirm; the words ‘Friendship Is Magic’ bulging as something rolled under them. 

His mandles dug into the alley grime as he feebly kicked his legs, and I could only watch in disgust as the rest of the fuzzy, black, thing slithered up inside him, forcibly dilating his leather cheerio. It was incredible. I could actually see its progress as it wormed its way through his body. He blubbered something about God and Jesus as his hand clawed frantically at his own belly, before his voice abruptly went silent. 

There was a long, drawn-out wheezing sound, like one of those novelty rubber chickens, as the bulk of the thing moved up his throat. I don’t know how his flesh distended and deformed without bursting, but it reached his mouth and his jaw opened wide. First one small black, fuzzy ear lined with black and yellow plaid popped up, then another, followed by the crown of this thing’s head, pushing his teeth outward like flower petals blooming. 

It rose before me, straight up from his mouth, its black and yellow belly slick, but not stained by his juices. His dislodged teeth clung to its matted fur like an obscene necklace. It swayed slightly in the moonlight, a pair of luminous green eyes fixed on mine, and its beak opened. With the rising inflection of someone asking a question, it uttered one word: 

Teeth?