#because they’ve been trying to replace him for six years

[rickybaby]

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night with your head in your hands and when you think about me all of those years ago you're standing face to face with I told you so you know I hate to say I told you so you know I hate to say but I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling a friend about a job I know for certain is terrible?

I have a degree in a creative field of work. Years ago I applied for a job in a city out of state, for a small business. I lowballed on the expected salary because I was desperate to get the job and get established before I moved. I figured once I got my apartment squared away I could look for a better, higher paying job.

Well, I got the job, and it turns out I actually really enjoyed working there. It was a pleasant work environment, I had cool coworkers, the boss was understanding and generous. So I stayed despite the low pay. I did get yearly raises, but even with those I was still below the average salary for my position.

That all changed earlier this year, when the old boss decided to sell the business due to health reasons. The new bosses made their fortune in a completely different industry, and knew nothing about our industry. They are in way over their heads.

They don’t fill out orders correctly. They take on orders that are physically impossible and expect us to do them anyway. They buy expensive new machines, don’t train us on them, and immediately start taking huge orders for them when we haven’t ironed on the kinks. We can’t focus on any complex orders because they’re constantly making us switch gears to personal projects, or forgotten orders, or different huge rush orders. The wife has a habit of rearranging our spaces and messing them all up, sometimes when we’re still in them trying to finish projects. They switched to a new shop management system that is counterintuitive and has too many moving parts and as a result mistakes have been piling up. Did I mention I was the only person in my particular department? Because I am.

It got to the point where I was having breakdowns every day. I have reached the point of total burnout. I finally decided enough was enough and turned in my two weeks’ notice plus however long it takes to train someone new.

Well, my “two weeks plus whatever it takes to train the newbie” has turned into six weeks and counting. They didn’t realize how cheap a date I was. They’ve interviewed people, but they’re all asking for twice the salary they’re offering. Which, good for them, get that scratch, but it means I’m languishing here, still suffering.

Now here is where I feel I MBTA. I have a Facebook friend, an acquaintance I met on another creative project, asking around for any local jobs in (creative field). He also lost his job recently, so he’s pretty hard up. I told him about the position opening up. I did not give him any details why I was leaving, or the pay, or the clusterfuck environment.

I feel like I’m leading him into a trap. But I’m so desperate to leave. I don’t want to leave without a replacement in place, because I like all my coworkers and without that one department the whole business will go belly up and they’ll all be out a job.

Am I leading him into a trap? AITA?

[housethemd]

Good Morning

(Married House/Wilson, kid fic, takes place in the same universe as “Expect the Unexpected.”)

Wilson’s alarm goes off at 5:00am. Groaning, he rolls over to shut it off. He yawns, and runs a hand down his face. They stayed up far too late last night, but with three children age six and under the only time they get to themselves is after the kids are sound asleep.

Last night grown up time lasted until after midnight. Past Wilson hadn’t cared about the late hour as he made love to his husband, and while present Wilson is very tired he can’t quite bring himself to say last night was a bad idea. Gone are the days where they did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, so it’s always wonderful when they take the opportunity to connect.

He rolls over a presses a kiss to the thinning hair on the top of his sleeping husbands head. House doesn’t stir, and Wilson finally finds the willpower to pull himself out of their warm bed. The hardwood is cold beneath his feet as he shuffles over to the other side of the bed to grab the baby monitor off House’s bedside table.

Over the years they’ve worked out an arrangement that seems to work for them most of the time. House handles the kids during the night - feedings, diaper changes, requests for glasses of water or giving comfort after bad dreams. House is usually up multiple times a night anyway because of his leg and he insists that getting up and moving helps. It was his idea for him to manage the kids at night.

Wilson handles the kids after 5am until their nanny comes at 8:00am. He has always been a morning person, so it’s much easier for him to manage the kids in the early morning while House has a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Making his way into the kitchen he follows the smell of coffee. One of the best investments they ever made was a coffee pot with a timer, so now Wilson has freshly brewed coffee as soon as he wakes up every morning. Placing the baby monitor on the counter he pours himself a cup and takes a big sip, basking in the temporary silence.

Elijah, their nine month old, will be up soon. He is usually up around 5:30am, so Wilson wakes up at 5am to have a few minutes of quiet before the games begin. Shortly after Eli, Leah will wake up and trying to keep a three and half year old quiet so her other father can sleep is a monumental task every morning. Six year old Evan, love his heart, will usually sleep until someone wakes him up. Wilson will go in around 6:30am, or if House gets up around then and sees Evan’s door still closed he’ll go in and wake him.

Wilson looks around the house, the house they bought last year after the confirmation that they’d soon be a family of five. It took a lot of hunting to find a home that would suit their needs. They not only needed space for their family, but anyplace with stairs was an immediate no given House’s disability. In the end they’d found their five bedroom bungalow on the edge of downtown Princeton and now Wilson couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

The clock on the stove reads 5:21 when a cry comes from over the baby monitor, pulling Wilson from his reverie. He makes his way into Eli’s room, turning on the lamp on the dresser by the door when he enters. The cries stop when the baby sees his daddy, replaced by babbling.

“Dadadada!” He squeals happily from his spot sitting up in the crib.

“Hey Buddy.” Wilson coos to his son as he picks him up.

He presses a kiss to his son’s forehead, who grins up at him. His eyes are big and brown, identical to Wilson’s own. He still doesn’t have much for hair, but what he has is fine and brown.

A quick diaper change and it’s back out the kitchen for breakfast. His highchair is on top of a plastic mat that is supposed to be used for painting, but Eli has recently started feeding himself with a small spoon which is excellent for his motor development, less excellent for the cleanliness of the kitchen floor.

Today’s breakfast is oatmeal and mashed banana. The baby chews a teething toy from the freezer as Wilson prepares his breakfast. He babbles intermittently, which results in Wilson babbling back.

Eli is only half way through eating and spilling his breakfast down his bib, the tray, and onto the floor when Leah appears in the kitchen. She is slow to wake up, and always has the most adorable grumpy face in the mornings. She’s wrapped her purple baby blanket around her like a cape, and just stares at her father like he can read her mind. Something he swears she learned from House.

“Good morning Sweetheart.” He says softly.

“Want peanut butter toast.” She demands. Something Wilson also swears she learned from House.

“How do we ask nicely?” He responds gently.

“Want peanut butter toast, please.” She tries again.

He’ll take it.

By 6:30 the dishes from breakfast round one are in the sink, and he’s got Eli dressed and playing in his excersaucer in the living room. He manges to work through the daily outfit drama when dressing Leah (who knew a three and a half year old could be so picky about their clothes) before he hears the sound of Evan’s bedroom door opening.

He sticks his head out from Leah’s room to catch him on his way by while Leah fights with her socks.

“Good morning, I’ll be out in a sec to make something for you for breakfast.” He smiles at his oldest.

“Okay Daddy.” He says with a stretch and a yawn.

A shrill screech sounds from behind him, and Wilson turns rapidly only to see Leah throwing her socks across the room.

“Hey hey, if you are having trouble with something you can ask for help. There is no need to throw things or yell.” Wilson says softly but sternly.

He’d dreaded the terrible two’s when Leah had turned that age, because Evan had been a struggle at that age. However Leah had been more or less a pleasant two year old. He’d thought that meant they were in for relatively smooth sailing but then he’d learned a new term - threenager.

He loves his little girl more than words could say, just as he loves all his kids but mornings are hard with her right now. There is usually at least one tantrum and he has to try and calm her down before she wakes House while still teaching better ways of dealing with big feelings.

The sound of a cane hitting the floor in the hall mean he’s been unsuccessful this morning.

“The socks didn’t feel right.” Leah informs him, looking up with her big brown eyes.

“Okay, well next time how about you let me know right away, and Daddy will get you different socks.” He says, reaching into her sock drawer to pull out a different pair.

He thought he’d selected her current favorite socks, but apparently her favourite had changed. Once the new socks are approved and on her feet Wilson presses a kiss to her head.

“How about you go play in the living room? I’m going to go get Evan his breakfast, okay?”

Leah nods, and grabbing a couple toys from her room heads to living room with Wilson not far behind.

When he makes in to the kitchen House is leaning on the counter with Evan sitting on the countertop next to him. They are both eating pop-tarts.

“Hi Daddy. Papa let me have one of this pop-tarts!” The boy enthused.

“Did he now?” Wilson replies, eyeing his husband.

“Thought I’d give you hand and feed our oldest” House says, taking a large bite out of the corner of his pop tart.

Wilson can’t help but smile. They try not to feed the kids overly surgery breakfasts, on school days at least, but he can’t bring himself to be frustrated. In fact he wishes he had the camera close by. Watching House and his 6 year old doppelgänger smile and laugh over pop tarts is so blissfully domestic and mundane that it melts Wilson’s heart.

Wilson approaches to press kisses to both their foreheads.

“Run and get dressed when you’ve finished eating, okay?” He directs his son.

“And you, give me a bite of your pop tart.” He says to his husband, stepping close to wrap his arms around his middle.

“I’m sorry, this is my pop tart.” House says innocently, holding the sweet monstrosity as far away from Wilson as he can.

“Hmm yes and we are married. That means anything that’s yours is legally half mine, and I want my portion.” Wilson cajoled, reaching to try and snatch the treat from House’s hand.

There is a brief scuffle that ends in Wilson managing to snap a corner off the pop tart and triumphantly popping it into his mouth. House glares at him while he eats it, but once he’s finished House gives him that crooked smile and Wilson can’t help but lean in and press a firm kiss to his lips.

“You guys are weird.”

Evan, who is still seated on the counter after finishing his breakfast, eyes them warily. He wasn’t quite to the age where he was grossed out by his parents affection, but he had started commenting on their more unusual antics.

“Proudly! I hope someday you find a man and/or woman to be this weird with. Now, go get dressed before Wendy gets here.” House directs, moving around Wilson to lift Evan off the counter and safely back down to the floor.

“You know I can jump down, right?” Evan says when House has him under the armpits.

“Yes, I know. But it’s a little to early in the morning to give Daddy a heart attack, okay?” House says, ruffling Evan’s dark curls.

Evan laughed, “Okay Papa.” And scurries off to his bedroom.

“Man and/or woman?” Wilson questions.

“Yeah well, you never know what the kid might grow up to be into. Wouldn’t want to be heteronormative.” House jokes.

Wilson can’t help but laugh.

“Now, where were we?” House purrs.

House leans against the counter and grabs Wilson by his belt loops, pulling him to stand in the space between his legs. Wilson happily lets himself be guided and meets House’s lips with a deeper kiss this time. Wilson was about to introduce his tongue to the equation when a loud noise came from the living room, immediately followed by the piercing cry their nine month old.

Both Wilson and House were in the living room in a second. Leah stood with wooden blocks surrounding her feet, looking slightly guilty, and Elijah was in his excersaucer bawling his head off.

With a glance to one another, they made the silent decision to divide and conquer. Wilson went to Eli, scooping him up and bouncing him while making a litany of soothing sounds.

House went to Leah, pushing blocks out of the way so he could sit on the floor at her level.

“Sorry Papa. I wanted to build a really really really big tower but I knocked it over. I didn’t mean to make Eli cry.” She said, batting her eyelashes in a way Wilson knows House is weak for. Their little girl truly has him wrapped around her finger.

“I know you didn’t mean to, but mornings are for quiet play, right?” House says, attempting to be stern.

“My tower was quiet.” She said.

“Yes, right up until it fell over. That’s why we don’t make big towers in the morning, right? Because they usually fall down. You are lucky none of the blocks hit Eli, but you scared him pretty bad.” House gestured to where Eli was still whimpering in Wilson’s arms.

“I made the tower far enough away so even if it fell it wouldn’t hit him.” She informs House. God, was she ever House’s daughter.

“I’m glad you thought of that, but there is still a rule against big towers in the morning, right?” House says, shooting her a serious look.

“Right. I’m sorry.” She says, looking appropriately contrite.

Wilson smiles at the scene before him. It’s not that he enjoys his daughter getting scolded, but that House does it so gently. When he and House got married he thought he couldn’t possibly love him anymore than he did in that moment. But parenting with House, while at times difficult as parenting always is, has ultimately made him love his husband even more.

Eli had calmed down now, and while House helped Leah pick up all the blocks and put them away Wilson glanced at his watch. 7:45am.

“Shit, House, we are leaving in 15 minutes. Leah, sweetie, you’ll have to pick up your blocks yourself. Papa needs to get ready for work.” Wilson says, and shoos House out of the living room and down the hall to their bedroom.

Wilson manages to hold the baby and help Leah pick up the blocks because it is truly a lot of blocks. How he didn’t notice what she was doing when he went to the kitchen was beyond him.

He puts Eli in his swing and turns it on. Soon he’s going to be to big for it, Wilson laments. He puts on the TV, Blues Clues playing and gets Leah settled on the couch just in time for there to be a knock on the door before it opens and Wendy, their nanny, walks in.

“Hello Wilson-House’s!” She greets, and Leah runs over to her, as does Evan who has reappeared from his room dressed for school.

Wilson leaves her to greet the children and goes in search of his husband. He finds House in the bedroom dressed in faded jeans and a black Motley Cru t-shirt. He’s pulling a navy blue button up over it, his usual work outfit.

“About ready to go?” Wilson asked.

They are driving in together this morning, as this evening is Evan’s parent-teacher night. They make a point to attend these things together, they are already a unique family and they want to show they are every bit as happy and functional as any other.

“Yeah, ready.” House grabs one of his sport coats off the back of the door and picks up his cane from where it was leaning on the wall.

They walk out to the living room where Wendy has Evan and Leah on either side of her on the couch, and Eli is still happily batting at the toys attached to his swing.

They say goodbye to each kid individually, each getting a hug and a kiss and an “I love you, have a good day.” Wilson is endlessly thankful that they can do this without tears for the moment. Nothing prepared him for the heartbreak of having to leave his crying child while he went to work, and he knows House felt the same. He knows they are in for another period of it. There is a good chance when Eli gets to be a toddler he’ll go through a phase of not wanting Daddy and Papa to leave, but they’ll get through it just like they did with Evan and Leah.

They make it to Wilson’s Volvo. They both just breathe for a minute, taking in the silence. Wilson turns to House, placing his hand on House’s thigh.

“Good morning.” He says, for the first time yet this morning.

“Good morning to you too.” House laughs.

[awmancreeper]

♡Lonely Boy Will Stay Lonely?. 36 - Our Butterfly

--❣︎ StayC’s Y/n is notorious for being K-pop’s social butterfly and making friends comes rather easy for her. When she’s asked to be an MC for Inkigayo, one of her co-hosts doesn’t seem too pleased to be working with her. This unknown feeling sparks a drive to become the bestest of friends with him but from the looks of it, he’ll fight her the whole way there.

Masterlist / prev / next

!!written parts!!

“Y/nnie~~~” Yoon called out laying her head in the twin-size bed while you lay slumped on it

It’s been a week since your manager told you the news. And after that convenience store night, you haven’t left the dorms, not even to get ready for the comeback.

Highup decided to give you a vacation, telling you to ‘take some time off’ and Inkigayo agreed to do this week and upcoming weeks without you; replacing you with another female idol.

Even so, your manager said you should post so you don’t look fazed, yet unable to find the energy to keep up your idol image you post a photo you took a while back.

The rest of STAYC stood around the shared room.

“Are you alright y/n?” Seeun spoke lightly almost as if any loud noise could break you. Yet nothing changed you were still laying face down on your bed. Then suddenly the girls see a stuffed bunny get thrown at you quickly looking over at J who threw it “Come on y/n, it wasn’t that bad” she said.

“Not the time Yeeun” Sieun told her pulling her back by the collar of J’s shirt.

“Y/n?” Sumin called out softly

The room went silent and what was heard was your tiny sniffles into your comforter. All six girls’ shoulders dropped finally realizing their social butterfly broke.

They’ve known you since you were in the 9th grade, the loud trainee that somehow knew everyone, Highup’s trump card. Forcing all of STAYC out of their shells when they just met, y/n made STAYC complete.

Now here you were, defeated on your bed as they all watched you try not to cry. Their hearts crumbled at the sight. This was your lowest

The dating scandal was the least of your worries but it started a chain reaction to your biggest problem. Your group

Wonyoung was right, because of your negligence your favorite people in the world are suffering as well. You couldn’t go online without seeing STAYC being dragged through the dirt or the abundance amount of OT6 content.

After some time of scrolling on any social media platform, you’ve come to realize maybe it’ll be best if you did leave STAYC.

The dark thought clouded your mind, and the thought of you leaving your friends hurt you the most.

But a weight on you stopped your train of thought. Slowly picking up your head you see your Maknae “It’ll be okay unnie” Yeeun said cuddling you. The warmth of one of your best friends pushed you to your breaking point.

You wept while they all looked at you in shock, through all the years they’ve known you; you weren’t the type to cry out of sadness yet here you were.

Sobbing out loud, the cries sounding desperate and defeated resulting in all your members' hearts bleed for you. Quickly joining J on your bed, they created a pile with you at the bottom even joining in with the tears.

You cried finally letting it go, you couldn’t be strong and happy all the time. And it felt nice to let it all out knowing your best friends were right there for you.

~•~•~•~•~

All 7 girls cuddled on the twin-sized bed even some falling asleep after the mass historical of crying. You stared at your wall sniffing feeling your eyes begin to swell from the tears when a certain girl plops into your view.

You looked at your leader, you feel your heart start to ache all over again. Trying to steady your breathing a tear falls from the corner of your eye.

Sumin softly smiled placing her soft hand on your cheek “It’ll be alright” she spoke just as gently as she wiped the tear. “We‘ll get through this”

“I’m sorry unnie” your voice croaked while she caressed your cheek. “For what?” Sumin arched her brow generally confused.

“For being an idiot and not listening to you”

Your leader's face softened

“You told me not to cause trouble, you told me to play it safe but I- I didn’t listen-“ you quietly cried out but Sumin hushed you.

“Hey it’s okay, not listening is a part of growing up” she told you “but the group is hurting because of it”

Sumin shook her head “No we’re hurting because our butterfly isn’t feeling too well nowadays” She played with your hair

“I’m trying unnie. I’m trying to be okay but…” you placed your hand on hers leaning into her palm “I’m so sorry” your voice was rough as you hadn’t spoken in a while afraid of what the consequences might be.

“Don’t be, you are our strongest member but you still need to remember we’re here too”

“Taking all the promotions and stuff because you know we’re tired,” your eyes widen at her words “What you didn’t think I’d notice?”

“Y/n I’m here, your leader. It’s my job to make sure all my girls are happy and healthy. And I told you those things not to protect the group but you,”

“I know how people can be and I didn’t want them to turn on you just because of some boy” You closed your eyes at the mention of him. Truth be told you completely forgot about Kai but your heart danced around at the thought of him.

“- either way I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone because you’re not. You have us”

“And no more crying,” she spoke and you realize you were crying again “Your eyelids will get puffy” Sumin joked wiping your tears

You laughed softly only to become sad all over again “I don’t wanna leave the group” you said quietly but Sumin just shook her head “You won’t, I’ve been talking to Highup about your hiatus,”

“It’ll make you look guilty if you go on hiatus plus we all kinda threaten to go on strike” she whispered the last part “You did?”

“Duh! Why because we’re STAYC girls” she smirked

“It’s going down” you both laughed

“Thanks unnie” “of course I’m your leader after all” You reached out for her but the weight stopped you “I’d hug you but everyone kinda on me”

She smiled “They’re just worried about you, especially Yeeun”

~•~•~•~

“Hey unnie” you called out to the sleepy Sumin “Yeah?” “About Kai, I like him… a lot”

She snuggled in closer to you “Yeah I know you do”

“You do?”

“It’s obvious, you were never nervous to talk about Soobin but Huening kai… it’s like you were a high school girl all over again”

You leaned into her shoulder “I don’t know what to do”

Sumin thought for a minute “Do what feels right, and if that’s telling him then tell him,” You listened to every word “plus I think he has a thing for you too”

Your eyes sparked “he does?!” You spoke excitedly causing your leader to laugh “Yeah! He’d be insane if he didn’t”

Just then your phone buzzed but you didn’t reach for it “You gonna get that?” Sumin asked but you just shook your head “Nah it can wait I’m with my girls right now” you said closing your eyes

~~~~~

Taglist: @txtbrainrot @azinwo @mackjestic @mangobee @ggggghost @adajoemaya @kainkhemistry @suzirumas @amareoverall @owotalks @justemalove @kaisdefender @aloverga @myahwritesss @justiceya @loopycorn1123 @amara-mars @samvagejkflxhrt @iraa567 @liinori @reinahwanggg @bangchansbae @heyitssarah63 @txtmetonight @lilyidk03 @roseidol @heymickyy @sofia-rom @beoms-sugar @ndriixx @myknifeyourlife @jackass1123 @fanfangying1304 (CLOSED)

[landinrris]

In which Lando's an infantryman and Carlos is a medic who practices self-destruction in the form of isolation. Tags: Vague un-named character death, vague depictions of violence, 2k word drabble

The medics of Lando’s company are a sort of enigma all their own. Stand-offish, isolated, avoidant—not wanting to get too close to the rest of the men. On the one hand, Lando understands. Treating fallen men is hard enough as it is, let alone the issues should that man be a friend.

And there are so many casualties—of course, the medics aren’t going to enmesh themselves in the pockets of camaraderie that form within the platoons like the rest of them.

Some of the medics are friendlier than others. Of the two medics in Lando’s company, one is slightly warmer than the other—more willing to joke around a bit. The other one though… the one with thick dark hair and permanently wide eyes… the one who sits on the outskirts of every group and stuffs his hands as far into his jacket pockets as he can get them to protect them from the cold... Lando wants to know him.

Carlos Sainz, Medic, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division.

Carlos is one of the original men from the company who has somehow never been injured. He’s someone Lando has looked up to as if he were a god—as if he were invincible, made possible by the fact that he’d trained for two years before ever stepping foot back in Europe.

In the six months since being with the company, Lando’s only spoken to him a handful of times. Even when they were back in England awaiting their next set of orders, he’d kept to himself, only exchanging full sentences with the other medics.

Now, ever since they’ve been holed up in the snowy hellscape outside Bastogne, Carlos has taken his solitude to a new level.

Lando still watches Carlos in awe as he flits around the snowy ground between their foxholes, cheeks red from the cold and nose rubbed raw, like a deer—every footstep as light as the last. He practically blends into the environment with his light green-grey fatigues and helmet covered in a steady layer of snow and frost. His back might as well be permanently hunched from trying to keep a low profile. He must be what the army had in mind when they thought of their boys out here fighting the good fight.

As the weeks wear on though, Lando watches Carlos’ temper grow thinner like everyone else’s. He loses his scissors and spends an hour jumping between foxholes trying to filch some off another guy. He asks Lando for his and any spare morphine he has twice, not remembering he’d already done so.

Lando blows up on him for that—for the audacity to not remember such a recent conversation when there are so few of them. Is he that forgettable that Carlos can’t tell him apart from someone else? As if Lando is a brand-new replacement and not someone who’s been around through advances and retreats alike.

When Lando’s holed up in his own foxhole with an actual new replacement, a young kid who’s still wet behind the ears, his resentment toward Carlos dissipates. They’re undersupplied out here, barely any food or ammunition, let alone medical supplies. They’re quite literally surrounded by the enemy on all sides—remembering who he last asked for supplies is probably the last thing on Carlos’ mind.

And still, Lando can’t help but complain to some of the others about it. They let him, probably because it helps to take everyone’s mind off the borderline inhumane conditions. Besides, it isn’t like there’s much else to do while they wait for another assault to begin.

And then the kid from Lando’s foxhole takes a shot to the neck on a patrol he insists on taking the lead on.

It happens so fast. One second, the only noise is their boots crunching in the snow and the next, the air around them is filled with the cracking of bullets and splintering tree bark. Everyone around him drops to the ground and behind the nearby trees. They’re pinned for several seconds before the sergeant they’re following gathers his thoughts and throws out commands.

Lando tries to get to the kid, to get a bandage on him to stop the bleeding, but the constant barrage of bullets fired in their direction prevents him. The other soldiers attempt to lay down cover fire for Lando to get to him, but even that doesn’t work. He tries and he tries—yells himself hoarse for the kid to stop moving so the enemy soldiers will stop shooting long enough to save him.

Nameless hands hold Lando back by the shoulders and eventually pull him up and away when it’s clear they’re not going to win this.

Lando continues to scream until he has to put his feet under him and move himself back towards their line. And then, through it all is a figure perched on the ground against the trunk of a tree watching in the direction they’re running from.

It’s Carlos, looking like the angel of death himself—dark clothes against the white expanse of their world. The church was wrong when they said Hell was hot. Hell is frozen ground and six inches of packed snow. Hell is tree bursts and bullets. Hell is the kid from his foxhole lying in the snow and turning it red.

It’s not even like Lando was overly close to the kid. He was a replacement, someone who had no idea what he was getting into and whose first foray was the Ardennes Forest in winter. He’d only been here for a few weeks, Lando and him only having a few meaningful conversations that didn’t amount to much in the end. And now he’s gone, and Lando can’t even do the one thing he promised by getting his things from him.

Lando keeps going because he has to, but the weight hangs heavy on his mind for the rest of the day. This isn’t his first casualty. Hell, he didn’t expect the kid to last very long anyway given what they were currently up against, but they were supposed to have at least a bit more room to move.

The other medic, Max, lets Lando huddle up in his foxhole and not talk about it later that night. He can’t bear to be alone right now much less go back to his own hole. Max lets him crawl under the tarp and raises the thin army-issued blanket so Lando can get closer. It’s not much, but it’s a warm body—another living person who understands the horrors of what they’re going through.

If Lando were in a better mood and capable of coherent thought, he’d remark upon Carlos sliding his way into the foxhole an hour or two later, a relieved sigh on his lips. The thought that he’d been looking for Lando of all people is surprising. Carlos doesn’t talk to anyone but the other medic. Why is he looking for him?

Carlos doesn’t leave though, nor does he say anything to Max. Instead, he proceeds to hold a thinly wrapped chocolate bar out to him with hands shaking from the cold, a thick and low, “For you. Please eat it, Lando,” that leaves Lando speechless.

Lando looks at Carlos wearily, the gesture unexpected. The words seep into Lando’s bones and fill him with an unsettling warmth for how simple they are. His mother would be appalled to know he doesn’t say thank you, but his voice doesn’t work. All he can do is reach out and bite off a chunk, letting the sweetness melt over his tongue.

Carlos gives him this gift, shifts closer to him whether out of desire or coldness, and Lando can’t help but think this is some sort of new leaf they’re turning over.

Nothing truly changes around them after that night. The enemy still shells their location every day or so, the snow keeps falling, they remain surrounded. And yet, Lando lets himself gravitate to Carlos where he hadn’t before. What’s more—Carlos doesn’t try to stop him.

It’s unsettling how easily Carlos lets him in.

More and more men Lando had once thought were invincible start to fall, some from minor wounds and others from more serious ones. He can see the way Carlos’ hands start to shake more and more—the way Carlos loses some of the lightness in his steps. Lando has to pull him out of his foxhole once when someone’s yelling for a medic and Carlos is sitting there frozen while the sky explodes above them.

In the quiet aftermath, once everyone has calmed down and the silence is so thick it threatens to suffocate Lando, he finds and sits with Carlos. The sheer presence of the other man is enough to settle Lando’s nerves, the wordless presence Carlos offers acting like a balm to his soul. Maybe it helps to be next to the one person he’d trust to save his life.

Still, Carlos continues to pull back from chiming in on the group around him. He sits farther away, as if his very presence is a curse against the company, destined to bring violence and death upon them. Lando takes extra helpings of their meals and watery coffee over to him and sits perched on his own helmet. He half thinks he’s hallucinating, but Lando swears he sees Carlos’ shoulders relax a few inches when he’s nearby.

Not everything is downhill though. Sometimes, Lando can see remnants of the Carlos from the early days of this campaign. One afternoon, he jogs up to where Lando’s huddled at the edge of the line with two other guys in his characteristic little half-hunch. He asks some inane question with the authority of someone who’s on a mission—one that all three of them answer negatively, and then he’s gone again. The exchange leaves Lando with a fond smile on his face while the other two men seem lost.

“What?” Lando asks when he notices them looking at him.

“You don’t think it’s odd that you’re the only person he talks to, it seems like? Apart from Verstappen.”

Lando shrugs, unsure of how to respond even if it’s true. It’s not like he’s done anything significant to break Carlos from his shell. They’ve still barely talked. And really, the only thing Lando can think of is that he’s no longer letting Carlos use the demons in his head as a means to drive people away. Despite how hard he tries, Lando’s going to be there, and Carlos seems to have accepted that.

He gets a step further on a miraculously sunny afternoon seated in a foxhole at the edge of their line. Carlos crawls from the edge of the tree line and practically pours himself in next to Lando, shoving their shoulders together in unspoken fondness. They have to be quiet out here so close to the enemy, but Lando doesn’t mind.

He looks over just as a sunbeam is catching Carlos’ face and lighting up his eyes for the first time in weeks. The low-hanging clouds full of snow are gone, and in their place is the most beautiful shade of amber Lando thinks he’s ever seen. He swears he stops breathing, embarrassingly obvious even when he should be twice as discreet as he normally would be.

Carlos doesn’t look away though. “What are you looking at?” he asks instead.

Lando should deflect, maybe turn it into some sort of jibe, but he’s so caught off guard that all his normal excuses dry up. It takes more energy than it should to utter out the barely-there, “Nothing, I just… nothing.”

A ghost of a smirk tugs at Carlos’ lips before it’s gone. “Maybe you should watch the line then.” His hand brushes against Lando’s where he’s gripping his rifle and doesn’t move away.

Lando’s stomach lurches but he finds it in himself to roll his eyes anyway. “God, you’re annoying.”

The quiet laughter is enough to sustain Lando for weeks.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Lightning On My Lips (Every Time You Kiss Me)

19 - Home Was A Dream, One I'd Never Seen, Til You Came Along

Pairing: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgia Tennley

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: SMUT, talkin' bout babies again, piv, rough!Tyler (even when he's rough he's gentle though)

A/N: This was a little self indulgent hehehe

Playlist

Kate and Javi left the next morning, heading to her mom’s to clean up the old barn and set up a base for themselves. Tyler was going to suggest they just set everything up here, but he didn’t have full reign of the property quite yet. Emmaleigh and Mattias' things were all still here. Good thing about that was that they could use Mattias’ tools. So Tyler had begun to tinker with Georgia’s truck again. It was mostly body work that needed to happen and luckily Tyler was pretty handy at that, so over the next few days, he didn’t see much of Georgia as she had begun to clean up her saddles and bridles and get the two mares back into light work. She was mostly just walking them around the arena in hand, but it was a start. She’d sat in the house for a bit on her laptop, wondering if Tyler had been serious about getting her another horse.

She looked through some of her old Facebook groups and Instagram accounts. She hadn’t touched any of it for the past year or so, after the mares had retired. She still had messages from old friends asking if she could help them with their horses. She decided to message a few of them, offering her services if they were interested. She was surprised when over the next few hours she received several messages asking her when they could trailer out to the ranch and take a lesson.She even had a girl ask about working for her in exchange for lessons. She took a break, trying to digest what exactly was going on. She went out to the garage and found Tyler underneath her truck, having changed into a tattered hi-vis yellow t-shirt that had the name of Bobby’s garage on the back. He heard her dainty booted footsteps and crawled out from under the truck, standing and wiping his hands on a rag that he’d hung from the damaged side mirror. He’d replace those completely soon enough. 

He smiled at her. “I’d kiss ya but I’m kinda fuckin’ disgustin’.” He said, and she leaned against her truck. She was quiet and glanced down, toeing the ground, tapping her heel, and then sighing deeply. Tyler stepped closer, his fingertips gently connecting with her upper arms. “What’s’matter, Peach?”

“I messaged a few people about teaching. I had some replies. Even someone asking to work for me in exchange for lessons.” She murmured and Tyler’s grip tightened and he did kiss her, and he smelled like diesel and oil, but she was totally fine with that. 

“That’s amazin’! You gonna take her up on that?” Tyler asked and she shrugged.

“I wanted to ask you if you thought it was a good idea. I feel like if I’m gonna do this, I should try to write up some contracts and rules and shit. We have six more stalls...I could offer boarding as long as they’re not high maintenance...but we’d need to separate the pastures because Wilene will beat the shit outta other horses. She only doesn’t kill Twist because they’ve lived together their whole life.” Georgia explained and Tyler stepped away, nodding his head in agreement at all of her thoughts.

“I think that all sounds great. I think it’s up to you...I know you wanna include me, but it’s ultimately your decision. I’m just the labor.” He joked and Georgia smacked him lightly on his arm.

“You’re not just the labor, Tyler. You’re a part of this too. You included me in everythin’ with Kate and Javi, even though I only had a basic understanding of some of the shit you were talkin’ about. I wanna include you.” Georgia said, invading his space. She could smell his cologne through the diesel soot and engine oil and the mixture of it sent a shiver down her spine. Her cheeks went rosy as she gazed up at him.

“ Oh, Peach...” He purred, noticing her complexion change as their bodies connected, belt buckles clinking together. “You know how pretty you look when you want somethin’ from me? And God , I’ll give you everythin ’, that I fuckin’ promise.” His tone slid down an octave, still bearing softness and sensuality in several notes, and Georgia’s lips turned up, lids lowered, as she draped her arms around his well-built shoulders. His hands landed at her hips and drew her in. They stayed quietly connected for a few more moments before they parted. 

“Can I help with my truck?” Georgia asked and Tyler kissed her once again.

“Nah, Peach, you can answer those people back and look pretty while doin’ it though. Lemme play around with the truck a bit more and then I’ll come in and make dinner for you. Boone and Lily should be here in a day or two.” Tyler explained and Georgia nodded and smiled, as she waved and turned to head back into the house.

Twist and Wilene whinnied as they saw her come from the garage, so she stopped to give them some love before going to sit on the porch with the puppies. The puppies who had settled right into being wonderful little farm dogs, and had been relaxing by the front door, waiting for Tyler and Georgia to come back. They had become accustomed to their humans flitting around, doing all kinds of things so if the puppies didn’t feel like it, they didn’t follow, and just chilled out on the porch.

Georgia sat in the rocking chair on the porch, answered some messages and emails, 

When Boone and Lily arrived the next afternoon, Tyler let the puppies out first. Boone jumped up and down with excitement and Lily immediately sat on the ground, so she could get bowled over by the three puppies. Tyler stepped down off the porch, making his way to the truck, a newer Dodge, another dual-wheeled diesel but with a long bed, painted a dark pine green. It had a rack like Tyler’s truck and bright KC lights, a busted tail light, a fucked up tailgate and performance shocks underneath. With some modifications, and welding a roll cage onto the frame, it would be tornado ready by next season. 

“Boone, we’re gonna look like fuckin’ Christmas chasin’ these storms.” Tyler joked and they hugged and shook hands. Tyler hugged Lily too and proceeded then to check over every inch of the truck with Boone. Georgia came outside a few minutes later and hugged Lily.

“How are you doin’?” Lily asked, and Georgia smirked. 

“Did Tyler tell you yet?” She asked and Lily shook her head.

“Tell us what?” Boone inquired as he pulled Georgia into a tight hug as they’d rounded off looking at the truck. Tyler put his hands on his hips and smiled.

“Gee and I are havin’ a baby.” Tyler said, proudly, and both Boone and Lily’s eyes went wide before Boone jumped in the air and whooped loudly. He skipped around for a couple seconds, then hugged Tyler and Georgia separately and then he kissed Lily, which took her by surprise.

“We’re gonna be Uncle Booney and Auntie Lily, baby!” He exclaimed and Lily just smiled and pulled Georgia into an embrace. 

🌪⛈️🌪

Georgia stared out the window over the kitchen sink, taking a sip of water and feeling immediate nausea. She wished it would stop, but now she knew the reason. She just wished she could have it both ways, because a few weeks in and the nausea was draining her completely. She had no problem with being pregnant, but the morning sickness was horrible, and sometimes it would persist into the afternoon. Today in particular was a bad day, halfway through the morning and she’d just gotten out of bed. Tyler spent day and night with Georgia, hidden away in their-soon-to-be home and even though he was always doing something, he made sure he made time to check in with Georgia, even if they weren’t in the immediate vicinity of each other. 

He’d been out most of the morning, having come back in several times to check on her. This time he was thinking maybe he was getting hungry, and he wanted to see if Georgia was feeling up to eating anything yet. She’d made a doctor’s appointment at his behest, knowing that he was worried about how severe her morning sickness had been right away. She wasn’t at a point that it was debilitating, but Tyler was ready at any moment to take her to the emergency room if needed. 

She heard footsteps behind her but she didn’t look because she knew it was him. She could tell by the slight hesitation in his left foot as he stepped. It was as if he didn’t place all of his weight across the whole bottom of his foot. If he did, he’d get a sharp sting running up his leg and through his hip. It was the smallest limp, but it was noticeable to her. She’d clocked it the first time she’d met him and he had been pretty damn good at hiding it, but he always let his guard down around her, especially if they were alone. He knew he could relax and show a little weakness with her. She accepted him as he was.

She felt a hand weave around her waist. The other around her jaw, turning her head slightly so that he could capture her lips with his. His body was warm as it enclosed her from behind, his hips pressing hers into the counter. In fact, his shirt was sweat soaked and she could smell the soot from the trucks on him. 

“How ya feelin’? He asked, his voice raspy and deep. Georgia pushed her back into his chest and his hand that was on her jaw traveled down to cup a tender breast and begin to knead it gently through her tank top. “I just sent Boone and Lily to the store for a few things. Should be back in a half hour or so...” He said, as Georgia moaned softly at the feel of his hand on her tits. They were so sore and his warm, calloused hands felt wonderful to her. His other hand pulled up the hem of her shirt, fingers caressing circles around her belly button.

“Tyler...I...” She began but she gave up saying much of anything as he ground his hips against hers. She reached down and unzipped her jeans. She pulled them down just enough to expose her most sensitive parts to the humid air. Tyler did the same, freeing his cock from the confines of his tight jeans. He licked his lips as he pressed kisses up and down the side of her neck and cheek. He moved her hair to one side so that he could nibble her earlobe and kiss her jaw. 

“You want me right here, over the kitchen sink, darlin’? He asked, lust evident in his tone as it took on a thick and sweet quality that only reminded her of a top shelf bourbon that they used to never be able to afford.

“Yes, Tyler, please.” She groaned, not wanting to wait any longer. The nausea had gone, and more than a few times now it was because Tyler had come in, hot and heavy and ready to fuck her again. Her desire for him overcame everything at this point. She knew a lot of it was her hormones were on overdrive, but Tyler certainly wasn’t helping any. He took his length in hand, swiped it through her very wet and very ready folds before pushing inside her. She grasped for purchase on the window sill with one hand, and the counter on the other. Tyler pressed forward, wrapping one arm around her waist, holding her away from the edge of the counter so she wouldn’t have bruises. His other hand intertwined with hers on the window sill, as he thrust, rough and sloppy. 

“Oh, fuck, Ty!” Georgia’s moans were long and drawn out as he continued carelessly rutting into her. His grip tightened, lack of rhythm apparent as he struggled to connect his lips with her neck. The only sounds that reached her ears then were their belt buckles jingling, the slap of their skin together as Tyler thrust roughly in and out, and his breath at her ear, whispering the dirtiest shit he’d ever said to her. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ naughty girl, Gee. Where else you gonna let me fuck you, darlin’, huh?” He asked, voice deep as the depths of the ocean with an almost animalistic yearning. Few times had she felt Tyler like this, and she knew when he was this riled up, he was tired. 

“Wherever you want, Ty. Whenever you want.” She breathed, as he thrust once more, coming undone. She didn’t even need to finish, because the feeling of him spilling inside her, as he bent her over the kitchen sink, had her pretty damn satisfied. 

“Goddamn, Peach. I almost forgot how wild you are.” His words were drawn out, strained, as pressed his nose into her neck, breathing in the faint fruity scent of her shampoo and soap, mixed with her sweat. His hips stuttered and stilled, as he settled in weight behind her, his knees shaky. He’d feel this later. 

“Why are we so horny, Ty?” She asked jokingly and it made him laugh and press his lips to the back of her neck. He sighed, resting his head against her back. She settled over the sink, nostrils flaring, feeling nausea creep up again, but she pushed it down as best as she could. 

“Cause we’re in fuckin’ love, Gee. We’re stupid in love.” He said as he reached up to pull her shirt aside so he could kiss her shoulder. He rubbed his stubbly cheek against her soft skin before stepping away. She felt a rush of warmth and emptiness as he pulled out. She whimpered and glanced over her shoulder at him. He was tucking himself back in jeans and she wiggled her own back up. 

“We should probably clean ourselves up before Boone and Lily get back. This kitchen smells like sex.” Tyler laughed and he grabbed her hand, not even letting her zip her jeans.

“But Ty, I was...” Georgia began and he shushed her.

“ Peach, I can fuck you again in the shower .” He smirked and guided her up the stairs. 

“You’re so bad.” She mused, her grin widening, and he kissed her, twirling her slowly before they reached the bathroom.

“You said I could have you anywhere, anytime. Figure we should take advantage of the alone time.” He said and she giggled, nearly jumping on him as they passed the threshold of the bathroom.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

WT #5: "It's Broken"

Summary: Spy AU. r/AITA post from a throwaway account asking if they're the asshole for accidentally torturing their best friend.

WC: 1363

Am I the asshole for torturing my best friend, despite him not knowing it was me? [UPDATED] + Poll

Throwaway account for obvious reasons. 

So I work for a… company with enemies. Lots of enemies. And my job is to make sure those who come prying, don’t get off easy when they get a little too nosey. Seven of these enemies come in the form of branded assassins, and they’ve been on our asses for a while. I won’t use their name as I don’t want any hate/harassment to go towards them, but If you didn’t know, they’re the UK’s legion of puppies - legal assassins and infiltrators who are conditioned to think they’re doing good, but truthfully they’re just nuisances. Like, really annoying. Why can’t we be chased by the French ones? They’d put up a much better fight…

Ugh. Anyway, the pups got in the way of several shipments that stopped the boys getting paid, they nearly got my brother arrested and they killed a dozen higher-ups - you wanna know how hard they are to replace? They do all this for clout and money; bigger enemies pay the small enemies to try and take us out, and for what? We’re a family business, for christ's sake! All we do is move shit around and own a few stores, what’s so threatening about that? Nothing I’ll say! I’m just trying to put food on the table and these assholes are trying to stop that. Not all of us belong to institutions who feed us cucumber sandwiches and lobster at the drop of a hat. 

He’s probably there right now, swaddled in a private hospital with a team of doctors putting him back together. 

I’m not looking for sympathy, but I guess I hate them so much because one of them killed my dad. I was a wreck! 

So yeah, I fucking hate them. They took everything and continue to take - my brother had to step in and take over dads role and it hasn’t been easy for him! For any of us! And those bastards got away with a pat on the back and a warm bed while we had to relocate a warehouse for the millionth time. My dad was just sitting in his office holding his gun as he usually does - so what if it happened to be pointing in the direction of the pup? Those  guys are so insecure they see anything as a threat. ‘Shoot on sight’. Hah. That mentality will get them killed if they weren’t so damn hard to catch. 

But imagine the satisfaction when we finally managed to get our hands on one - a live one. The small one with the blonde hair, is probably about 5 '5 and built like a stick insect. (I’m practically six foot, well-built and can bench about 200lbs) 

They’d gotten sloppy - too egotistical. Their mums had probably told them they’re the best in the world and they ran with it. We cornered the rat in one of our warehouses, and he relented when he realized he wasn’t enough to beat over a dozen armed men when all he had on him was knives. What, is he just old enough to graduate from safety scissors? No guns? Fucking amateur. 

He didn’t go down without a fight, and it was quite a show, too. Bastard managed to nick my arm, but my brother managed to crack the back of his head with a pipe and he was out cold… Well, we assumed so anyway because of those damn masks -  If you hadn’t been living under a rock, then you’d know the pups have these masks practically glued to their face. They all have their own ‘looks’, the blonde one’s is molded into a frown with those soulless, black eyes. The reason we didn’t take it off there and then is because… well, last time someone did, everyone in the room went missing, and I don’t know about you guys but I’m quite comfortable here. We play a very dangerous game - luckily I’m always one step ahead. 

I’ve had six years to think about this - to wonder what It would be like to get one of them. My brother called me crazy, but I could hardly wait as they took his headpiece and tracker from his uniform. Look, I know it wasn’t the short one that killed my dad but he was close enough, but who wouldn't want to enact revenge on the closest thing to their fathers killer? Granted it wasn’t the short one that killed my dad, but it was close enough to send a message and I only had forty minutes before the fanfare arrived. So that gave me about thirty minutes to do whatever I wanted… 

I wasted no time in getting my hands dirty. Just seeing his stupid mask made me feel all kinds of stuff, but mostly rage at what one of his teammates had done to my life. I saw red. 

So I cut every limb deep enough to see bone. I broke several fingers, his leg, and carved him a new six pack after I’d rearranged his ribs. I ripped his clothes enough to see the pale flesh they hide beneath layers of tactical gear. I took his gloves so I could at least have a trophy - a reminder of the time I beat up a ‘Sin. 

I almost feel guilty for loving it, but I hated how he made no noise. He was conscious, I knew this because of the heavy breathing but he didn’t say a single word. Not one. Not even a whimper.

So I hit harder. And I kept on hitting until my knuckles bled because the smug bastard didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to be silent, but I’m also not sure he deserved the beating. I know, what a plot twist. 

I guess I should explain the title now, because how do I know I just tortured my best friend? Well. I think I did. Because only one person I know has a very specific scar between his pointer and thumb - right in the fleshy part. It stretches across his palm as well as down the back of his hand towards the wrist. It’s barely visible now, but I’ve known him for years, so even beneath all the blood I can still trace the faint line. I’m so used to seeing his hands and the scar… and that mop of blond hair that I know it had to be him. He’s also the only person I know that bites his nails down to the cuticles. 

I saw the scar when I raised the bar I was using above his hand - he’d been strapped to a chair, with his arms tied to the armrests. His fingers were broken for sure, but at the time I wasn’t done… the irrational anger I had had blinded me, but the sight of the scar swung me back to my senses. I paused for a solid minute, the pipe I was using poised above his hand. 

“It’s broken.” He finally rasped. 

And I stopped. 

I stopped. Like, I physically recoiled because despite the fact that he was hiding behind that stupid mask he actually spoke. I could put a voice to a body and for some reason I felt so sick I nearly threw up because it was so unmistakably him. 

So I dragged his body back to the spot and left him. I had time to spare but I couldn’t face it. If it was him, then he must have known it was me. I mean, I was wearing a pretty good disguise - a hoodie, sunglasses and bandanna - but I’m worried y’know, I don’t want this to affect our friendship going forward. 

I’m sitting in my car typing this and wondering AITA for torturing him? Because it was just to teach him a lesson but on the other hand… he’s my best friend and I genuinely didn't know? Like, I stopped right away! On the other hand, he is part of something that actively ruins the family business so I don't know. 

UPDATE: He does know it was me. 

I think we’re still friends.

[saderplate7]

as someone who has been obsessed with the good place for three years and good omens for six months i really like the way that these particular medias depict heaven and hell.

they’re both broken systems but they’re broken in different ways. the good place’s heaven and hell are functioning generally like they’re supposed to, with the leaders of the good place being overall comically nice and the leaders of the bad place being comically mean. but their methods are so outdated that hell is overcrowded with humans who really didn’t do that many evil things- but being a good person has become so complicated that no one has gotten into heaven for over 500 years. this is a story about the complexity of life, about actions vs unintended consequences. and convincing the good and bad places respectively that something is wrong would be a forced catalyst to rebuild the entire system that has been in place since before the beginning of time. and no angel or demon wants to think about that. so they wait until the humans do it.

good omens is obviously more biblically compliant. their hell is also presumably overcrowded, since they mention that they’re extremely understaffed, but unlike the good place we don’t see any humans in heaven or hell, save a few nazis who talk to some demons. they don’t talk a lot about humans in the afterlife, but they focus on the questionable aspects of heaven and hell themselves. because when it comes down to it, heaven and hell are not that different. sure, one side is good and one side is evil by name, but they’re really just labels that don’t mean much. the only reason they seem to even exist at this point is to end the human race. there’s no order, their leaders keep running off, and everyone keeps trying to follow god’s plan because that’s always been the plan and plans cannot be changed- except, of course, aziraphale and crowley. but no one thinks about change except them, because then everyone would have to rethink the system that has been in place since before the beginning of time. it’s not about good or evil, really- it’s about choosing sides and following the plan. it always has been. and it’s not like they can just abandon their sides, either, because then they need replacements. cue the latte. (this is not an endorsement on coffee theory)

broken systems in the afterlife means chaos in both of these franchises. demons show grace and angels show the opposite, because what do those words even mean? good place michael is evil to humans despite his fascination with the human race, because he wants to, but then because he’s supposed to. aziraphale and crowley have spent so much time around humans that they’ve become more of humans than an angel and a demon. janet was built to be a permanent assistant for humans, and then became so advanced once spending time with team cockroach that she developed complex emotions that weren’t even technically possible for a being like her. even adam, the literal antichrist, was raised as a normal child, therefore giving him genuine love for those around him, and allowing him to reject his “inherent evil nature,” so to speak. all of these characters are SUPPOSED to be something.

these are medias about broken systems in the afterlife, because the lines between good and evil are so blurred. these are medias about being human.

and i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s insanely cool.

[biglisbonnews]

Nicky and Pierre IRL Nicky Champa and Pierre "Boo" Amaury Crespeau are the kind of people that probably look at least vaguely familiar if you're at all active on social media these days. On TikTok especially, where they have a combined 26.4 million followers and consistently see their videos go viral, the LA-based duo can seem omnipresent. The pair's content straddles the always-popular line between wholesome and thirsty, though the former more often wins out. Now that they've been together for going on six years — and tied the knot last autumn — they're all-in on the couples' content. For Valentine's Day, PAPER caught up with the influential couple to shoot some photos around their California home and ask a few questions to gauge how well they really know each other.Who takes better selfies?Nicky: Pierre, for sure. He's a master at lighting and angles. He also has bountiful amounts of patience that I do not have.Pierre: Hm, what do you mean? Is there such a thing as a bad selfie?What's his go-to Sunday night rom-com?Nicky: He's obsessed with Titanic. He's also always watching something Disney.Pierre: Nicholas goes for Real Housewives, The Kardashians, Million Dollar Listing or Below Deck on a Sunday night. A guilty little pleasure for him, but I also enjoy watching with him.Which one of you would do better fending off a bear attack?Nicky: I think unfortunately we'd both be laughing and panicking at the same time, and would have no idea what to do and be eaten. I'd probably try and TikTok it, too.Pierre: I believe you can consider us both dead the day this happens. Or maybe Nicholas will have a genius idea that will save the damsel in distress that I usually am in those situations.What's his fantasy sex location?Nicky: Pierre is a romantic, so I would say on a furry comfortable bed in a chateau in the south of France with candles everywhere and piano playing in the background with bottles of Blanc de Blancs champagne and my body smothered in chocolate.Pierre: Shower. 100% the shower. And Paris.What's his favorite couple's activity?Nicky: We love traveling together and exploring, but also staying home and doing absolutely nothing together. For him I'd say it's just to cuddle on the couch and do nothing.Pierre: I'd say his is traveling together. Shopping, going on fancy dates, or imaginary house hunting, too.What would he say is his worst habit?Nicky: It's not really a bad habit — more just funny — but Pierre can tend to forget people's names, and when he tries to remember them, he'll replace their name with a French one. For example, Stephan can become Cristophe.Pierre: To not finish cans of soda, ever. I believe the first few sips is it for him.What's his biggest turn-on?Nicky: In this order: cuddles, saving money, my butt, massages, naps, chocolate, building stuff.Pierre: Don't tell him I said this, but I believe spending money — I don't blame him, though, this is a thing for me, too. I'm sure for many of us. Oh, did you mean sexually? I think ambiance. Who would last longer without checking social media?Nicky: Pierre, for sure. I think it's because I've had it my entire life, so it's just part of my life. I'm always checking it.Pierre: I would say me, just because I grew up without it.Who's his biggest celebrity crush?Nicky: Maybe Leonardo DiCaprio? He also loves Celine Dion. But she's a bit of a cougar.Pierre: He mentioned to me that his sexual awakening was due to watching Bradley Cooper in American Sniper. And now I believe it would be either Lana Del Rey or Harry Styles.Who would he say is the most iconic celeb couple of all time?Nicky: Before Brad and Angelina, but now I would say he's aiming for Beyoncé and Jay-Z. Ever since the "Apeshit" Louvre scene he's been turned on to them.Pierre: I would say he loves Brangelina, but we also like to talk about how fun it is that Melissa McCarthy and her husband Ben Falcone often work together.Photography: Jennifer RoveroStyling: Cody Allen https://www.papermag.com/nicky-champa-pierre-boo-2659410125.html

[immortalecstasy-blog]

Ashes To Angels 18+

Chapter 02/31 Pairing: Eddie Munson / Chrissy Cunningam

The last thing Chrissy can remember is bumping into her high school crush, Jason Carver, at a bar. But apparently that was nearly a year ago? She has no memories since then. But it seems like all her dreams have come true. Dream business. Dream body. Dream fiancé.

Except Rockstar Eddie Munson (Yes, that one!) is turning everything into a nightmare – because he seems to think they’ve been seeing one another for the last six months, and if his knowledge of her body is anything to go on… he may just be telling the truth.

What the hell has been going on in the last year?!

Please see AO3 'Additional Tags' for WARNINGS / More Chapters All Available Already on AO3.

It’s a huge cliché to start a chapter off with someone ‘waking up’. Especially the main character. Especially this one. But here we are, watching Chrissy Cunningham wake up.

The first thing she was aware of, is that everything hurt. Not the all-consuming agony kind of hurt, but the dull throb of continuous low-level ouch that has you walking on eggshells trying not to set off a spike. As if her blood had been replaced with something thick and heavy. Molasses maybe.

She felt something on her face and experienced a blind moment of panic – like when you misjudge a step and your whole-body tenses with the knowledge that you fucked up. But then, like when you manage to right yourself before you fall – she figured it out. She could hear beeping; could smell bleach and blood. Could hear a hum of chatter and footsteps. And she realised she was in a hospital.

She tried to open her eyes, but the stark ceiling light was painfully bright, so she reached for the straps around her face instead, jerking a bunch of wires and tubes plugged into her hand.

“Hey, hey, Chrissy? Your mask has to stay on, okay babe?”

Chrissy? Who the fuck is—oh, wait, no, yeah. Me. I’m Chrissy.

Chrissy groaned, filtering through her sluggish brain to place the voice as she finally managed to remove the mask from her face. The hospital smell increased, and she tried to open her eyes again, more carefully this time, peering out from behind the protective tangle of her lashes.

The brightness dimmed as a silhouette blocked the overhead light. She couldn’t make out his features at first but as her eyes adjusted he slowly came into focus.

She wondered if she was dead. Because no way do they make them that pretty on Earth. He looked exhausted, haggard with worry, and he had absolutely no right to be looking like a fucking heavenly apparition with bags that dark under his eyes.

“You’re awake.”

Yeah, no shit Saint Peter.

It took a few attempts, but she eventually managed to convert the most pressing thought into very croaky words.

“What happened?”

“They’re saying you fell. Busted up your elbow pretty good, dented a few ribs. You… you hit your head pretty hard.”

I fell? Chrissy thought, frowning. Picturing herself flat out on dirty concrete. Okay, that’s ‘what’…

“Where am I?”

“Saint Paul’s.”

“I’m dead?!” Chrissy blurted out in a panic. A hand quickly covered hers, warm and soft.

“No, no, the hospital.”

The man gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she processed this, deciding what it was she needed to know next. Question Three. Is that her last question? Did you only get three? She couldn’t remember. But she knew she had to figure out the most pressing thing next.

“Who are you?”

“W-what?”

His fingers squeezed hers again, but it’s not in reassurance this time, it’s a reflex. Sharp, brief, scared. His eyes were blown wide, his pouty mouth had fallen into a perfect ‘o’ – he would look comical if it didn’t look like Chrissy had just ruined his life.

“It—It—Babe, it’s me. Jason.”

Jason? No. That wasn’t ringing any bells. But then, her head felt like someone had rung her like a bell. Chrissy could see the agony in his eyes and knew this wasn’t some kind of prank. She wondered if she should play along, save him from the panic.

But then she’s dragged back into the void, and he’s forgotten.

Someone else is there the next time Chrissy comes around, a mess of dark curls. Her joined-at-the-hip best friend, Nancy. Chrissy was hurting even more than the first time she’d woken up, as if that was even possible.

Nancy was sat in the chair by her bedside, staring off into the distance, her hand cupping her chin.

“Hey…”

Nancy startled, her head whipping around as she lunged forwards to take Chrissy’s hand.

“Hey. How you feeling?”

“Like I got into a fight with a sixteen-wheeler.”

“Stay here, Suzie told me to get her when you woke up again.”

Chrissy laughed, and it hurt like hell. “Stay here? Damn, I was planning on going for round two.”

Suzie – who turned out to be her doctor, was in the middle of rounds but sent a Nurse who quizzed Chrissy until she felt dizzy. Full name, birthday, mother’s maiden name, the alphabet, a whole array of shit Chrissy then had to try and drag up from her sluggish brain.

“Do you know the date?”

Chrissy frowned, thinking hard, “Um… September…?”

“August.” The nurse replied with a wry smile. Chrissy’s frown deepened and she shook her head.

“She means August.” Nancy said from the bedside, “Don’t you Chris?”

Nancy came back into Chrissy’s line of sight and nods at her seriously, like it’s really important that Chrissy agrees with her. Except it’s not August. Because it’s September. Her mum’s birthday was at the start of September, and they had a family meal planned to celebrate. Nancy was going.

“Do you know who this is Chrissy?” The nurse asked, pointing at Nancy. Chrissy studies her more closely, noting the red-ringed eyes and flyaway hair.

“Nancy, what happened?” Chrissy asked.

“See. She knows me. She’s fine.”

“And can you tell me Nancy’s last name?” The nurse continued.

“Wheeler.” Chrissy snapped impatiently, “Nance – what happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The nurse pushed instead.

“We were at the bar. The Hideaway… What happened?”

“You had an accident.” The nurse explained. “A nasty fall.”

Chrissy huffed impatiently; she knew that bit.

“A rough fall down some stairs. Can you tell me what you’ve been up to in the last few days? Before you went to the bar?”

“Wh… I don’t know, it was the end of the semester, all the days blur into one…”

“Semester?” Nancy asked, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah?”

“What happened at the bar? What were we talking about?”

“Wh—I—I don’t know. We were hanging out – you, me, and Barb – celebrating, and then Jason started talking to me and I… I spent most of the night with him.”

“What were we celebrating?” Nancy pushed. She seemed so stressed out that Chrissy tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Moving back to Hawkins…”

“That happened last September.” Nancy whispered.

Chrissy almost laughed, but the look on Nancy’s face told her this was not a joke.

Nancy seemed even more alarmed when Chrissy didn’t recognise the doctor when she finally finished her rounds and made an appearance.

“Can you tell me what my name is?” She asked as she approached. Chrissy gave her an incredulous look. Even if she had perfect eyesight she wouldn’t be able to read the little nametag from here. “No…?”

“Why doesn’t she remember you?” Nancy demanded of the doctor.

The doctor gave her an admonishing look and turned to examine Chrissy, reviewing her chart and the notes from the nurse’s interrogation.

“Calm down.” The doctor told Nancy, before smiling at Chrissy. “Chrissy, do you remember anything else after your night at the bar?”

Chrissy shook her head, “You guys are really freaking me out. What’s happening? Did I drink too much?”

“You’re had a head injury. Sometimes, with head injuries you can experience some degree of amnesia.”

“She doesn’t have amnesia.” Nancy protested.

“Don’t panic.” The doctor re-assured, pushing her glasses up her nose, “There are many different types and degrees of—”

“She’s awake?!”  Came a voice from the doorway.

Jason was there, practically bursting through the door. Worry creasing his otherwise Adonis-worthy face. Chrissy couldn’t understand why he was there.

She’d had the biggest crush on him all through high school, but he’d never really paid her any attention. Other than a few short conversations in the hallways, their evening at The Hideaway had been the first time they’d really spoken.

“Sir, it’s family only.” The nurse protested at his entrance, as if Nancy wasn’t sat right there.

“I am family.” He growled, his face twisting.

“It’s okay.” The doctor told the nurse, waving a dismissive hand.

Chrissy watched Jason’s face relax as he came closer, staring somewhere around her middle. Chrissy flushed, very aware of the unflattering hospital gown and totally in the dark about the state of her face or hair.

“I’m her fiancé.” He told them.

Nancy’s head span around so fast it was like she’d been possessed by a demon or a very dramatic owl, Chrissy followed their gaze down to her hand, her ring finger was empty.

He seemed to notice her gaze.

“It’s on the nightstand. They removed it for some of the tests.”

Chrissy turned to look at the nightstand, where a giant diamond twinkled merrily. Her whole world was spinning and if this was some sick joke they all needed to stop it right now.

“Nance, this isn’t funny.” Chrissy whimpered, begging her friend to drop the act, but Nancy doesn’t pull back a curtain to reveal the cameras, she just looks back at her, her expression a perfect reflection of the terror Chrissy could feel creeping up from the balls of her feet and up her legs into her stomach.

“Baby.” Jason whispered, “You don’t remember yet? What happened?”

“She doesn’t remember.” Nancy snapped coldly.

Chrissy felt like they were all rushing ahead, and she was seriously falling behind. “Fiancé?”

Jason looked puzzled just for a moment before everyone filled him in. Chrissy got wheeled away for a dozen more tests, MRI, CT, EC… something, a whole bunch of acronyms.

Jason was asleep in the visitors chair when she was finally allowed to go back to bed. Nancy was nowhere to be seen.

Chrissy was worn out from all the tests. Lost and confused as to why the last year seemed to have disappeared from her memory and why there was a huge fucking rock that belonged on her finger, apparently given to her by a guy that – in her mind – she literally spoke to properly for the first time yesterday. She might have crushed on him for years, but up until last night she had been pretty sure that she hadn’t even existed to him.

She can’t help the tears that start rolling down her cheeks once she’s back in bed, and despite trying to stifle them to avoid the embarrassment of waking up the totally hot Jason, she either fails in her attempts or he’s a really light sleeper, because he’s out of his chair and hovering over her, stroking back her hair.

“Chrissy, babe, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I don’t understand.”

He hushed and soothed, and Chrissy closed her eyes, turning her cheek into his hand. He was so warm, so nice. She’d been so excited for him to talk to her, the conversation had flowed so beautifully between them, the hours had felt like minutes and when the bar closed she hadn’t even been tired. When he’d asked when she was next out, it had felt like he was maybe asking her out, but she’d assumed that was wishful thinking. Clearly that must’ve happened, and then some. She was just glad that she had at least caught that one night’s memory. Enough to trust him and draw comfort from the hand on her cheek.

“Try to get some sleep.” He suggested, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “I’m going to be right here, okay?”

Chrissy nodded as his thumb ghosted under her eyes to mop up her tears and let him tuck her into bed like she was a child. When he went to sit down she reached out and grabbed his hand.

“I don’t…”

He nodded in understanding, hooking his chair with one foot to pull it closer to the bed so she could still hold onto him as she drifted to sleep. But as soon as she rolled onto her side her ribs screamed at her and she gasped, rolling back onto her back with a cry.

“Are you okay?! Do you need me to get the nurse?”

“I’m fine.” Chrissy gasped. “I’m just… oooh, it just hurts on my side, that’s all.”

He dragged his hand through his hair, looking physically sick with worry.

“I thought I’d lost you. It’s been hell. You’ve been incoherent for days; I was so scared…”

“I’m here now.” Chrissy reassured him, “well, most of me, I guess.”

She reached over to the nightstand, scooping up the engagement ring and then holding it out to him.

Beaming, he slid the ring back on her finger, toying with it, and his frown slowly morphed into a small smile.

“I love seeing this ring on your finger. Seeing you wear it.” He told her, looking up from her hand and into her face.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Chrissy grinned, “About how it happened.”

“How?” Jason asked, bringing her hand to his lips, and kissing it. “I’m a lucky bastard, that’s how.”

“No, I mean…” Chrissy started, but then shook her head, “Lucky to be engaged to a girl with a bust-up face who can’t even remember dating you?”

Jason laughed, his eyes crinkling. “I’m sure I can use it to my advantage somehow.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I can remind you about all the foot rubs, and homemade dinners, the flowers. Babe, I’m the world’s greatest boyfriend.”

“Mixtapes?”

“Huh?”

“How many mixtapes have you made me?”

He paused. “Okay. I admit I haven’t ever actually made you a mixtape.”

“And I accepted your proposal?” Chrissy scoffed.

His smile softened as his thumb ghosts over the back of her hand. “I love you, Chris.”

She could tell he meant it, and even more surprisingly, she could feel it in her chest. Like it was a fact she just knew even if she couldn’t remember how it got there. But she didn’t know how to reply. She did’t know him, even if she did know him. It just…

“It’s okay.” He told her gently, “I know you don’t remember. I can just win you all over again.”

Win me? Chrissy thought, a little perturbed by his choice of words even if she admired the sentiment.

“You’re tired.” He reminded her, “Get some sleep, okay?”

When she woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of talking. It was the doctor she was supposed to know who woke her up, Dr Bingham.

Nancy was there again, and Jason.

Retrograde Amnesia

That’s what it was called. Apparently there was a high chance her memories would come back in time. But it could be hours, weeks, even months.

“So, you still don’t remember this? You don’t remember me giving it to you?” Jason asked, lifting up her hand and dazzling them all with the engagement ring.

Chrissy shook her head sadly.

“Yeah, when did that happen anyway?” Nancy demanded hotly, but Chrissy could barely focus on her best friends’ questions, too busy trying to remember. Maybe he was down on one knee? But… no. The ring means as little to her as the Doctor she apparently knows.

They were all told that the best way to kick-start her memory was for her to resume life as normal, but that wouldn’t happen until all the tests came back and Chrissy was cleared to leave.

Jason was loathe to leave her, but his phone was ringing non-stop, and he guiltily explained that he ran his own business, a gym, and had left a rather clueless friend in charge.

“I remember that. You telling me you owned a gym.” She told him with a bright smile.

That made him even more reluctant to go.

“It’s okay.” Chrissy reassured him, “No, really, you should go. Nance is here. I’ll be fine.”

Jason had nodded distractedly, still looking torn as he left.

The remainder of the tests eventually came back, Chrissy was cleared to leave after thirty-six hours of observation and more tests, and with the caveat of several follow up appointments and check ins.

Nancy brought her some clothes to go home in if she was ever released, and Chrissy was surprised to find she didn’t recognise any of them.

“How’d you sleep?” Nancy asked her.

“Like a baby.” Chrissy lied.

“Really?”

“Well, in the getting woken up every two hours way.” Chrissy joked, picking up the clothes.

“Are these yours?” Chrissy scoffed, knowing there was no chance she would ever fit in Nancy’s clothes. Although, these ones did look a little big for Nancy.

“No, they’re yours.” Nancy told her. Chrissy frowned, pulling open the waist of the jeans to view the tag, Size 10. That was impossible. Chrissy was a size 16 on a good day.

Chrissy rolled carefully onto her side, weary of her ribs, and then pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“I brought your toiletries and stuff too, I thought you might want a shower.”

Nancy said it nicely, but the little nose wrinkle told Chrissy this was less of a suggestion and more of a demand.

Chrissy hobbled to the shower. The first thing she noticed when she looked in the mirror was her face. Oh god! My face….! There was an awful bruise on her cheekbone, snaking up under her eye, another on her forehead. Both were black and purple and horrible. Then she noticed her body.

She was… thin.

Chrissy had never been thin in her life. She’d never been obese either, but she’d always been plump, even with her mom’s constant nagging and dietary suggestions.  Bruises aside she looked… she looked amazing. She stared at the body in front of her, tears of gratitude rolling down her cheeks.

She showered carefully, and when she was squeaky clean, dried, and moisturised, she turned to the clothes Nancy had brought her with excitement bubbling in her very flat tummy.

They fit. Not even the tight fit of her size 16’s. They weren’t even snug. She’d gone down two cup sizes, but that didn’t even factor in here. She was staring at the body she had longed for – had dreamed of – for years.

She wondered if Jason’s gym had had anything to do with it, and the excitement bubbled over again. The night she’d met him – apparently a year ago – she’d struggled to understand why he was interested in her, why someone that beautiful, that charismatic, that charming, would’ve wanted her.

Looking at herself in the mirror now, the ring on her finger suddenly seemed a lot less confusing.

[gillian-ybabez]

The doorbell rings in the afternoon and of course it’s my father. He’s hovering a few inches off the ground in full hero costume; cape, gloves, even the dinky domino mask. The man is a mountain; just like in my memories. The neighbors have begun peeking around their curtains.

“Hello,” I say pointedly not asking why he’s here or to come in or even acknowledging our relationship. He glances past me into the house, his expression softens slightly as he sees her through the walls.

“Hello, son-”

I cut him off. “Nope. We are strangers. It’s better this way. For my safety. Remember?” He has the decency to wince as if he’s actually hurt by my words.

“We only wanted the best for you,” he says holding his arms out from his body. Does he want a hug or is this just body language to appear contrite.

“You threw me away because I wasn’t useful. Because I didn’t have powers like-” I choke on his name. I redirect my anger, it wasn’t his fault.

“Billy wasn’t a replacement for you. When he developed powers, he needed someone to teach him control and to show him how to use his powers for the-”

“-good of mankind. I heard the speech you gave after he leveled his home town.” I bite back my resentment for Billy; he didn’t ask to replace me in my former family. Just like he didn’t ask for the disaster that accompanied the awakening of his powers. “Why are you here?” I hiss to prevent myself from shouting.

“I heard your kid had an awakening.” Does he not know her name? Is he playing a game? The neighbors have moved to standing in their open front doors to gawk at us.

“We have it under control. There were no injures and minimal damage to the house. Longshot is going to mentor her.” All the Guardians were my “friends” growing up until it was confirmed that I wouldn’t be going through an awakening. Longshot was the only hero that had maintained contact with me after my parents had separated themselves from me.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Power types tend to run in families so it might be better to have someone with similar powers mentor her.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. My parents are ordinary humans.”

“Your mom and I-”

“You gave up the right to call your wife and yourself that twenty-six years ago. You made sure to scrub every connection between me and both of you out of existence. I don’t know why you didn’t wipe my memories at the same time.”

“We did that to protect you. If one of our enemies had gone after you, you wouldn’t have been able to protect yourself.” The neighbors have been slowly creeping from next door and across the street and have formed a semicircle centered on the worst father in the world.

“You could have protected me!” I shout years of anger and resentment boiling in my blood. I step forward a poke him in the chest, I know better than to try to punch him no matter how much I want to. “You and Mom!” Poke. “Protectors of the world!” Poke. “But not your own son!” Poke.

“We had an obligation to the world. We couldn’t put you above the whole world.” He face is scrunched up, his shoulders have slumped, he lowers himself until he’s standing on the cement pathway from the front door to the driveway.

I swallow my feelings, I’ll have my breakdown later, right now I have to draw the line in the sand. “I am no one to you. My daughter is no one to you. You have no right to be here, so leave.”

He glances around at the neighbors. What have they heard? I wasn’t shouting now but my voice was raised. They’ve pulled back into small groups, whispering amongst themselves. The Hero straightens his back, pulls back his shoulders, and fixes a smile to his face.

“Well, I guess there isn’t anything else to say is there? I’ll be on my way.” He turns, waves to the neighbors and flies away quickly but also slowly enough to barely create a breeze. Nothing like the sonic booms I was used to hearing growing up.

I wave at the neighbors I am friendly with and walk back inside. Jonah will probably come by later and I’ll give him the story and let him feed it to the rest. But right now I just need to be with my family.

Your bloodline is known for carrying superpowers, but you didn’t inherit them. And so your family cut ties with you. But after having children who did inherit those powers, your family tries to reinsert themselves into your life.

[turning-the-kaleidoscope]

Protective hug with Reigen and one of the kids?

this got so out of hand. so out of hand. thank you so much for the prompt! <3 i really went. frickng. this is 8.6k. but I’m really really happy with how it turned out! <3 ty again for the prompt

- future fic bc I love post canon potential, protective reigen, Teruki’s parents are the worst, heavily implied child abuse/neglect (not pictured), etc. married terumob at the forefront with backburner married serirei. because I’m a sap. everyone is protective of teruki and shigeo.

hope you enjoy! my formatting broke while copy/pasting to tumblr shdjkfsdf so here’s the AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43243897

~*~*~*~*~

Reigen is balanced precariously on his hand-me-down stepladder replacing the blinds when Teruki bursts into the office with a sound like a gunshot and nearly vaults Reigen to his death.

“Teruk—!” Reigen yowls, flailing. He's lucky enough that the blinds had already been secured to the window—he grabs ahold of the rail and steadies himself, then hops down the three steps to the floor. "Holy shit, don't do that to me—”

Teruki's across the room before Reigen's collected himself. His hands chain around Reigen's arm and the fear in his eyes brands straight to Reigen's soul.

“She found us,” Teruki blurts. “She knows where we live, Reigen, she—” 

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Heat rips through Reigen's chest. Teruki is twenty six years old and all Reigen sees behind those eyes is a scared child. “Who found out where—” 

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Shit,” Reigen says out loud. He grips Teruki by the shoulders to hold him steady. Not even Claw could make Teruki tremble like this. “What happened? Are you and Shigeo okay?”

“We’re okay,” Teruki stammers. His gaze flickers around like he's expecting someone to hurt him. “Shigeo got the door, but she knew who he was and I never even told her I was gay. How did she know who he was? How did she know—” 

This has been the one lingering fear that has followed Teruki every year of his life. Claw has come and gone. Natural disaster has come and gone. But his parents—somehow they’ve managed to cling like the roaches they are, digging their grimy hands into whatever good things Teruki builds for himself.

Not this. Not fucking this. 

“I don’t know how much she knows,” Teruki says. “He told her off but she said she’s going to come back. What are we supposed to do when she comes back?”

Reigen hugs him. It feels like what Teruki needs. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says. The rage within him seethes and bleeds into the ferocity of the hug, but he can’t do anything about it. “She doesn’t get to do this.”

Teruki hugs him. Reigen’s hug is angry; Teruki’s hug is afraid. “What are we supposed to do? She hasn’t done anything for years, if we take it to the police—”

“She’s done enough.”

“We can’t prove anything.”

“We can try.”

“Shigeo answered the door,” Teruki says halfway through his second cup of tea. 

Reigen stops fidgeting with the blinds to join Teruki at the couches, sitting across from him. Teruki has been mostly silent thus far, breathing and sipping tea while recollecting his bearings. The sign on the door has been flipped to Closed. 

“He told me he’d handle it,” Teruki goes on, “but I didn’t like the thought of him being alone with her. I don’t. So I went with him.”

Reigen nods. He’s trying to keep things comfortable for Teruki’s sake, but anticipation gnaws. “What did she want?”

Teruki leans back. He swishes his tea and watches it until it’s still again. “... Apparently she and my father got divorced,” he says. “I figured it’s been coming for years, but she picked a weird time to tell me.”

“Yeah. Sounds like manipulation to me.”

Teruki’s smile is bitter. “That’s what Shigeo said.”

“What about your dad? What’s up with him?”

Teruki shrugs. “I’ve met him maybe… twice? He was always away when I was growing up. I don’t know if he ever wanted to be a father in the first place.” Teruki swirls his tea again. “They had to sell the house after the divorce, so she’s living alone just outside of the city. She gave us her address in case we wanted to… visit. I guess? She said she wanted to ‘reconnect’. Not apologize, just reconnect.” 

“What’s she expecting? A family reunion?”

Teruki huffs. It’s the first smile that’s seemed at all real since he got here. “Shige’s family would tear her apart. Ritsu’s been wanting to for years.” 

Reigen can empathize.

Teruki reaches the bottom of his mug and settles it on the coffee table between them. “Sorry,” Teruki says. His eyes are red, and he sniffs while he tucks loose hair back into place. “I appreciate you letting me stay for a while. Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Reigen says. He hates that he can’t do more. “Do you guys have a game plan? What are you gonna do?”

“We’re going to file for a restraining order,” Teruki answers. “I hoped she would leave me alone once I was an adult, and I probably would’ve been okay with never pressing charges as long as she just… stayed away. But now she’s— stalking us. Enough that she knows where we live and who Shigeo is. If she’s willing to go that far, I don’t know what else she’s capable of.”

“Yeah, no, that makes sense.” Especially after a divorce. Knowing what he does about Teruki’s parents, it probably wasn’t a clean break. “And I meant what I said about security cameras. You and Shigeo already have a bunch of them outside, don’t you? Do they record audio?”

“Not yet. Shigeo’s getting those installed today.” Teruki rubs his arms. “I feel bad for leaving him at the house alone, but… I just, needed some time away after she was there.”

The wrath is back. That this person is managing to make Teruki feel unsafe after all these years is despicable, much less in his own home that he’s built for himself with his husband.

“Shigeo understands,” Reigen says. “It probably gave him some time to regain his bearings. You know how he is. Just call the police if she starts snooping around the place again, alright? I mean that. And call me, too.”

“Yeah.” Teruki grabs his shoulderbag. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Reigen nods. He jots a mental note: make sure Shigeo still has that spare key to the office. Teruki and Shigeo have a litany of places to hide out before the office, but if they need somewhere last second that’s completely detached from friends and family, Spirits and Such isn’t a bad choice. 

Teruki leaves with a short and tired goodbye and Reigen watches the sidewalk from the window. Once he sees Teruki turn the corner on the curb, he drops the blinds and locks up for the night.

Then he calls Shigeo.

He gets a single ring in before Shigeo picks up. “I almost killed someone today.”

“Yeah.” Reigen runs a hand through his hair. “How literal is that?”

Shigeo dodges that question like it’s a landmine. “I recognized her,” he says. “And she—somehow recognized me. I thought I could just tell her off and it would be over, but then she started talking about him and—” Shigeo heaves in a deep breath. “I told him not to follow me. He didn’t listen. How much did he tell you?”

“Just that she was trying to guilt trip him with the whole ‘divorce’ thing,” Reigen says. “And that you were pissed.”

“I still am. She gave me—she gave me her address. I almost—” Another very, very deep breath. “Reigen.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it too much.” Reigen doesn’t know what he would do if he ever met Teruki’s parents, but he’d probably end up with a fun story to tell his roommate in jail. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if it were me. It sounds like you held it together pretty well, all things considered.” 

“She knows I’m married to him,” Shigeo says. “How does she know who I am?”

“What about social media? You guys kind of keep up with that, don’t you?”

“We do, but our accounts are private. She shouldn’t be able to see anything, not unless she’s getting updates through somebody else.”

“Gotcha.” Reigen could punch a wall. “Damn it. Teruki talked to me, but have you talked to anyone?”

“I talked to Ritsu. He told our parents. They’re upset.”

Teruki’s parents set off an airhorn in the lion’s den with the Kageyama family alone. Ritsu is fiercely protective of his brother and subsequent brother-in-law, and the Kageyamas are fiercely protective of their sons and subsequent son-in-law.

“I also went to the gym for a few hours after I got the security cameras fixed.”

“Well, good.” The concept of that makes Reigen want to die a little, but weight training has been a good outlet for Shigeo’s overwhelming mental state over the years. “Are you home now?”

“Mm. I got takeout from Teru’s favorite restaurant, but I don’t know how much he’s going to eat.”

“Makes sense. I know you’re already going to, but make sure he eats something.”

“I will. I’m glad he talked to you. I have to call Ritsu back, he’s going to help me get the motion light installed tomorrow.”

“Alright. Oh—however much you paid for dinner, let me know. I’ll reimburse you.”

“What? No, you couldn’t…”

“I haven’t treated you kids to ramen in years, this ain’t gonna break the bank. Just text me. And don’t tell Teruki until you really feel like it.”

“… Okay. Thank you, Shishou.”

It’s no use telling Shigeo not to call him that. He already knows—now, the kid just saves it for nostalgia and the verbal equivalent of a hug or a promise, which is ridiculous but also makes Reigen emotional if he thinks too hard about it. Being fourty does that to a person, maybe. 

“Call the police if you get suspicious.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Call me too. I want dibs.”

“Family first. But you can deal with the leftovers.”

“Well, I suppose that’s only fair. Nothing hurts more than rubbing salt in the wounds.”

Shigeo kind of laughs. It’s as much of a laugh as he’s going to get out of the kid given the situation. “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing.”

Shigeo hangs up. Reigen packs up the office and calls Katsuya on his way home.

Shigeo is seated on the couch with a book, still bristling, when Teruki walks through the door of their home. 

Shigeo tries to shove his anger aside because Teruki has never liked seeing Shigeo upset, but this is one emotion he can’t stuff, and Teruki doesn’t like it when Shigeo stuffs emotions either. Maybe it’s better that Shigeo doesn’t pretend everything is okay.  

“Hey,” Teruki says, letting his shoulderbag slip to the floor.

“Hi,” Shigeo says. “I got takeout for dinner. You should eat something, even if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, uh.” Teruki laughs, a little nervous and a lot ashamed. “I’ll do what I can. Thanks.”

Shigeo nods. He puts his book off to the side and drops his legs, opening up his arms. He makes grabby hands at his husband. “Come here.”

Teruki exhales deeply. He kicks off his shoes on his way over to the couch and collapses into Shigeo’s chest. Shigeo wraps his arms around Teruki’s head and hooks his ankles over the backs of Teru’s knees, wishing he were tall enough to envelop him completely. He draws his aura around them both and pours as much safety and as much love into it as he can. 

Teruki knows that Shigeo loves him and would protect him, but he has to feel it. 

Teruki’s arms slip under Shigeo’s back as he hugs him, too. His coiled-up aura unfurls against Shigeo’s, scared and stressed but trusting. Shigeo reaches for it with a thought. 

“St-Stop,” Teruki gets out weakly, even as he burrows into Shigeo’s hoodie. Shigeo frowns, confused. “Y—You’re gonna make me cry, Shige.”

Shigeo presses deeper. It’s not fair, but he couldn’t possibly pull away. Teruki hiccups and clutches the back of his shirt. 

“This is your home,” Shigeo says. His heart feels fierce, but broken, and he tries to keep his voice steady for Teru. “She doesn’t get to take your home away from you. I won’t let her.”

Teruki’s tears seep through Shigeo’s hoodie, next to his heart. “God.” He laughs wetly and brings a hand up to cover his face. “I thought I could hold it together longer than this.”

“I’m not really going to let you do that, either.”

Teruki huffs. Shigeo lets his aura bleed into Teruki’s and runs his fingers through his blond hair until the jitters in Teru’s aura soften into a thrum. It’s still more sensitive than his bassline, but no longer as frightened.

“… Thank you,” Teruki says. Shigeo nods. “Have—… Did she come back?”

“No. I would have told you if she did.”

“Right. I, um. I’ve been thinking about getting a hotel for tonight. My head’s spinning.”

“Would a hotel really help?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“I think it might,” Shigeo admits quietly. “I—I want you to feel safe, Teru, but I don’t want our home to be a place you run away from. Your mom can’t take this home away from you.”

“I know, but…” Teruki trails, then sighs, curling his knees against Shigeo’s ribs. “Maybe I don’t know.”

“I’m here, too,” Shigeo reminds him. “As long as I’m here you’ll never have to see her.”

“I don’t want you near her, either, Shige.” Teruki’s fingers press over Shigeo’s heart. “I don’t want her anywhere near you.”

“I’ll keep a barrier up. We have plenty of cameras and Ritsu is going to help us with motion lights. If we’re here, then we’re home. She can’t touch us here.”

“Nothing’s ever stopped her before,” Teruki croaks. His aura is starting to crumple again. Shigeo presses him closer. 

“You were alone before,” Shigeo says. 

Shigeo’s phone rings. Teruki flinches and Shigeo smooths his hand over Teruki’s shoulder-length hair as he digs his phone out of his back pocket.

“It’s my mom,” Shigeo says. 

Teruki relaxes and Shigeo answers. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi Mom,” Teruki says loudly. 

“My boys,” Mom says. Her smile is just as audible as her concern. “Are you two home?” 

“We’re home, why?” 

There's a knock at the door and no question as to who’s behind it. Teruki huffs incredulously as he slides off of Shigeo and Shigeo gets to his feet. They head to the door together and Shigeo pulls it open. 

Mom yanks Teruki into her arms the second she gets a visual on him. 

Teruki hardly has the chance to jump before he realizes what’s going on and he’s sinking into her embrace. He’s taller than her, but he finds a way to press his face into her shoulder while she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Oh, Teru,” Mom whispers.

Teruki’s arms squeeze around her shoulders.

This is how it should be. It should be like this when mothers come to visit. 

It was not like this when Teruki’s mother showed up. She spoke in clipped and entitled tones with condescending words—she singled him out as her son in law and he loathed it. She called Teruki her son and herself his mother and he saw red. He told her to leave and she asked what gave him the right. That she has the right to see her son and that he has no right to keep her away.

“It’s going to be okay, love,” Mom murmurs, hugging Teru close. “We’ll figure this out.”

Teruki nods and steps back only to be met with an armful of Ritsu, despite Ritsu’s reluctance initiating physical touch. Teruki returns the hug with a joke about Ritsu’s height. Ritsu scowls but stays right where he is.

This is how family should be. Family should be like this, not like—

Mom locks Shigeo into an iron hug. It’s parental and full, but a different hug than the hug she gave Teruki. This hug digs into Shigeo’s heart like an elbow in the ribs. It grounds him. 

She’s angry, too.

“We’re going to solve this,” Mom whispers into his hair. “I promise. That woman isn’t going to lay a finger on Teruki.”

Shigeo wraps her up with his arms and his aura. He nods. 

Teruki’s mother told him that they have no right to keep her away.

Soon they’ll have the right to keep her away.

“We just need witnesses,” Tome says. “That’s it, right? She’s already a disgusting person, all we need is a way to prove it and get that restraining order.”

“It’s not that simple,” Serizawa says, watching her pace around the office. “She could contest the restraining order. The court doesn’t have to grant it if they can’t find a genuine cause.”

“So we prove it,” Tome reiterates, stopping in front of him and pivoting fully to make her point. “We get whatever evidence we’ve got lying around and drop the gaffle on her ass.”

“You can do all sorts of stuff in court if you know the system,” Reigen says, folding his hands. “Teruki and Shigeo don’t have a chance if she hires some skeezy lawyer who knows their stuff.” 

He thinks twice. Teruki said his mother’s living in an apartment outside of the city… Reigen lived in an apartment outside the city until he and Katsuya were able to afford a larger one together closer to the office. Any apartment that far out is cramped and cheap and doesn’t at all suit the lifestyle Teruki described of his mother.

He wonders how much money Teruki’s father walked away with in the divorce. Maybe she couldn’t hire a lawyer.

Tome throws her hands into the air. “Okay, so whatever. Teruki’s mom can’t win. She can’t win.”

Katsuya interjects. “As much as I understand the urgency,” he says, “going before a judge is not black and white. Especially not in family court.” 

“Besides, Teruki and Shigeo haven’t even decided how they wanna handle it yet,” Reigen butts in when Tome opens her mouth to argue. She’d make a good judge if she ever decides anthropology isn’t her thing. “We should wait to hear from them. There are plenty of ways to go about this.”

“They may even try going through the esper division of law,” Serizawa adds. “Shigeo mentioned looking into that. The only qualm is that this mother isn’t an esper, but they could still have it settled in a hybrid court. Especially since Shigeo is also an esper.”

“Wait, I didn’t know about that part.” Reigen spins the chair around toward Katsuya. “What the hell is a hybrid court?”

“I’m not sure myself. Shigeo said he’s looking into it. I think Shou is helping.”

Tome drops onto the coffee table with a groan. “I guess that checks out. Shou’s mom sort of had to deal with that when his dad went off the rails. But how’s that work when the espers are the ones wanting the protective order?”

“That’s why they want to involve the esper legal system,” Serizawa says. If Tome’s anger is problem solving and Reigen’s anger is cheshire smiles, then Serizawa’s anger is something quiet and very, very dangerous. “It’s the only way to ensure that she doesn’t try and flip this back on Teruki.”

“Right.” Reigen puts his head in his hands. The thought of his mom somehow finding a way to blame Teruki for all of the abuse makes him want to throw up. And punch a wall. “Damn esper descrimination.”

Tome looks disgusted. “That’s a thing?”  

“After the Claw shitshow, yeah.”

“How the shit—she’s gonna spin this like it’s Teruki’s fault?” 

“We don’t know that she would,” Reigen says. “And could you get off the coffee table? The hell do I have couches for.”

Tome kicks her feet up onto the table in defiance. “So what? Do we just sit around and wait for something to happen? I hate that.”

Reigen hates it, too. “Teruki and Shigeo are still figuring out how they want to handle this. If they go for a permanent protective order, they’re gonna need evidence. That’s step one.”

“Alright, evidence.” Tome leaps up and finally leaves Reigen’s coffee table alone. “I’ll talk to Shou and see if we can scrape anything up records-wise. He’s always down to clown on shitty parents.”

“Don’t do anything illegal.”

“You’re the one person who doesn’t get to tell me that. That woman’s got a lot of nerve messing with my boys. She can’t win.”

She shuts the door behind her. Reigen hangs his head. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Katsuya says. Stupid husband telepathy or whatever the hell. “Once Teruki and Shigeo decide how they want to handle this, I’m sure they’ll let us know if there's anything we can do to help.”

Reigen sighs. He can’t argue with that, and frankly doesn’t want to. “Right. Wanna go get ramen?”

Katsuya grabs his coat.

Teruki and Shigeo are set up on the couch with a dusty cardboard box sitting open on the coffee table. Teruki flicks through loose polaroids and album sleeves. Shigeo sorts with him.

“This one’s an option,” Teruki says, carefully drawing a photo from its lamination. He’s so young in these pictures—he can’t even remember when or where most of them were taken. Empty memories. “You can, ah… tell I wasn’t being taken very good care of.”

Shigeo looks at the photo over Teru’s shoulder. It’s objectively not a bad picture, Teruki just looks… sad, and thin, and there's a bruise on his head. He looks maybe five or six, which means he was actually seven or eight, and he’s holding his mother’s hand. It might've been the last time he ever held her hand.

“You’re so small,” Shigeo says with no air. 

Teruki blows all the air out of his own lungs and leans back. “Yeah. It’s good evidence, though, right?”

He hates the smile that claws its way onto his face, all muscle-memory. Shigeo hates that he smiles when he’s trying to hide something. Teruki hasn’t slipped into the bad habit this instinctively in years. 

Shigeo reaches for the photo. He stares intensely at it for long enough that Teruki feels self-conscious. “Did—” Shigeo pauses. “The bruise,” he says. “Did your mom…?”

“What? Oh.” Shigeo’s stress is making more sense. “Maybe once or twice? It didn’t happen a lot.”

“So she did.”

“Not often.” Teruki doesn’t have vivid memories of being hit. He has vivid memories of her voice and her damn words, and maybe being cornered in the middle of it. “I was mainly just left alone a lot growing up, and it was around the time Claw started catching onto me. She was way more into pretending I didn’t exist.”

Shigeo nods, stiff, and when he doesn’t stop staring at the photo Teruki reaches over and takes it out of his hands. He isn’t trying to upset Shigeo anymore than he already has, and in all honesty seeing his own face like that for too long is dragging up drowned memories. He doesn’t want to think about any of this.

He settles the photo onto an empty patch of coffee table. “Evidence pile,” Teruki says. 

He hates every part of this. 

Why’d he even keep the stupid cardboard box? Nostalgic childhood nothings, loose photos, the methodical albums his mother was so particular about keeping as he grew up. She always was particular about her image. He can’t say he grew up much different, but he’s not the person he used to be. When she kicked him out of her home he stole her precious albums to take with him, both to spite and remember her.

He still remembers the way she held his hand in that picture. It wasn’t because she wanted to. 

“What if it’s not enough?” Teruki whispers. 

“We might not even need so much evidence to get the temporary protective order,” Shigeo tells him. “Especially since the esper court is getting involved. They’re familiar with Claw. The fact that your mother abandoned you when she knew you were being hunted isn’t something they’ll let slip.”

Teruki takes an enormous breath. “Yeah.” God, his lungs hurt. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” His head hurts, too. “I, ah, I have a couple bills that accidentally showed up at my old apartment instead of my parents’ house. It should be enough to prove she had me living alone as a pre-teen.”

Shigeo nods. “You have her text messages, too. We have enough. It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah.” Teruki breathes and this time it aches instead of burns. “Thanks. I know this is a lot.”

“It’ll be over soon.” 

Teruki feels a little better after that. He finds a couple more pictures of himself as a child and even some he took of his apartment when he first moved in. Shigeo brews a fresh pot of tea while Teruki digs around in his old filing cabinet for those old bills. By the end of the night, well past ten o’clock, they’ve assembled a small arsenal of evidence to be taken to the court house first thing in the morning. 

After changing into comfortable clothes, Teruki scrolls through his phone while Shigeo brushes his teeth. Teruki thinks it takes longer than usual, but he’s on-edge, so it’s more likely that he’s reading into things he shouldn’t. Shigeo turns out the light on his way to bed. Teruki sets his alarm. Shigeo curls up on his side of the bed, taking half the comforter with him as normal. Teruki runs warm, so it’s alright. 

Realistically, he won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.

Shigeo stretches over to kiss his temple. “Goodnight.”

Teruki kisses the top of his head. “Sleep well.” 

Shigeo rolls onto his side and Teruki watches the ceiling. It’s a still evening, a mute note in the air. Shigeo shifts a little. Teruki takes a couple deep breaths. 

Shigeo shifts again. Then again. His breath hitches.

“Shige?” Teruki reaches for him, with his aura first and then with his hand. “Are you okay?” 

Shigeo fails to stifle a brittle sob. 

Teruki is more alert now than he was seeing his mother’s face at their door.

“Hey.” Teruki gets in close. He searches blindly for Shigeo’s hand and slots their fingers together when he finds it. “What’s going on?”

Shigeo’s shoulders shudder. He presses Teruki’s hand to his lips, taking thin breaths. “You were so small,” Shigeo whispers, the tremors reaching his voice. “Why would anyone—how could anyone hurt you like that? Y-You were— Teru.”

Teruki’s gut wraps itself up in one giant knot. He shouldn’t have let Shigeo see the pictures—or at least he should’ve been more aware of how it would affect him. He wraps his arms around Shigeo’s stomach and tugs him back against his chest, not sure of what else to do. Shigeo doesn’t relax into him, nor does he pull away. His breaths rattle over Teruki’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Shige.”

“I’m mad,” Shigeo snaps. “And—...”

Teruki wishes he could see his husband’s face. He hates the part of him that’s relieved he can’t see his husband’s face. He squeezes Shigeo closer and Shigeo’s turbulent breaths dissolve into hiccupping sobs.

“You were so small,” Shigeo hitches. “Y-You were so small.”  

Teruki wants to take all the things that make Shigeo cry and rip them apart. He never wanted to be one of them.

“It’s okay,” Teruki says.

Shigeo snarls. “No it’s not.” 

“Sorry, that’s—that’s not what I meant. I’m okay. Okay?” He doesn’t feel very okay, but he doesn’t feel like it’s a lie either. Shigeo is rigid against him, heaving like a board refusing to buckle in a hurricane, and Teruki threads his fingers through Shigeo’s hair. “Let me hold you.”

“I should be doing that,” Shigeo bites, his voice wet. “I should be the one holding you.”

“You have been, Shige.” Teruki draws his fingers across Shigeo’s scalp, tracing his hairline. “You always do. Please.” 

Shigeo sobs. 

Teruki curbstomps his panic and buries his face against the top of Shigeo’s head, smoothing his hair repeatedly. Shigeo finally sinks back into him but the stress in his chest won’t let him relax, and Teruki hates that this isn’t a problem he can solve.

But Shigeo is letting him hold him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into Shigeo’s hair. “Shh. We’re okay.”

He can’t remember the last time Shigeo cried like this. The occasions are few and far between and Teruki never knows what to do with his voice. His hands keep Shigeo close. Both of Shigeo’s hands clutch one of Teruki’s against his face and hot tears run over their knuckles. 

“S’Sorry,” Shigeo whispers through his tears, hoarse. “I’m sorry, Teruki.”

Teruki nuzzles the top of his head and squeezes his eyes shut when the burn turns scorching. “Don’t apologize. I don’t mind.”

Shigeo twists around to bury himself in Teruki’s chest, then he cries until he falls asleep.

The courthouse opens at nine o’clock the following morning. Teruki and Shigeo are downtown by eight fifty. Teruki speaks with the clerk and hands over the forums he filled in advance. 

The esper division of law is going to get involved. 

Shigeo isn’t as upset as he was yesterday, but the tension never left. He was tense even as he slept. If Teruki weren’t so strung-up himself he would be able to comfort him better. 

The esper court takes over as soon as Teruki brings up having been hunted by Claw as a child. 

It makes him sick that his mother’s threatening text messages are somehow more relevant evidence than the pictures of him as a child, given how Shigeo reacted.

That his mother is stalking him to the point of showing up at his home does not look good for her.

The temporary protective order is granted.

Teruki and Shigeo take a taxi home late evening with a yellow folder between them, a court date ahead of them and Teruki’s hand in Shigeo’s. 

“I’m going for a walk,” Shigeo says as soon as they’re through the door. He doesn’t ask if Teruki wants to join him, so this is probably a subtle way of telling Teruki he needs time alone. Teruki nods and hangs up his coat as Shigeo pivots back out the door. Teruki slides all the locks into place.

He gets the tea kettle boiling. The folder sits on their dining table, which has seen less use than their coffee table this week. Teruki stalls by glancing about his and Shigeo’s home. Humbly furnished and full of pictures; a few fingerprints in the paint courtesy of Tome and Shou; the bougie coffee maker as a wedding gift from Reigen and Serizawa; his mother-in-law’s choice of cutlery and his father-in-law’s electric mixer; fridge magnets that Ritsu mailed while he was off at college. 

That’s not all. He could look at anything in this home and tie it back to somebody precious in his life. This home is made of connections and promises and it’s Teruki’s and Shigeo’s and whoever else they welcome into it.

Teruki cuts the heat when the kettle whistles. He grabs his phone from the living room.

Reigen’s stepping into his and Katsuya’s apartment when his phone goes off. Some fumbling and light switching and shoes-kicking later, he gets through the door and answers the phone. Katsuya’s shoes are already here and the light’s on in the living room.

“Heya,” Reigen says, starting down the hall.

“Do you wanna serve my mom the restraining order?” 

“Heya?” 

“We got the temporary restraining order today,” Teruki says. “We have a court date, but she needs to be served before that can happen.” 

“Oh damn.” 

Katsuya looks over from the couch in the living room with a question and concern. Reigen waves a hand and Katsuya nods, understanding. He’ll explain after the call. “When’s the court date?”

“November seventeenth.”

“Gotcha.” Reigen hugs the phone between his cheek and shoulder, tearing a post-it note from the fridge to write on. “So, listen, as satisfying as that sounds, are you sure Shigeo doesn’t want to do it? Or I guess maybe that’s not allowed depending on what’s in the order. What about Ritsu?”  

“We talked about it. Shigeo could, but we think it’s for the best that you do it. If you’re willing, we’d love to give you the honor.” 

“... Well. In that case, gimme a time and place.”

Teruki gives him a time and place.

Friday, because she told Shigeo and Teruki that she would be at her apartment on Fridays if they ever want to ‘stop by’, and she’s located about where Reigen assumed. A tiny studio apartment on the outskirts of Seasoning City. A dank ride through a cheap train and a long walk through cold wind and autumn leaves. 

Reigen double-triple-quadruple checked the proof-of document to be filed once Teruki’s mother has been served, and Katsuya and Tome looked over it for him. So did the Kageyamas sans Teruki.

Hanazawa Eiko is the woman’s name. Reigen only learned that recently.

Instincts say he’s the wrong person to handle this sort of legal jargon, but he’s determined not to be. This is for Teruki and Shigeo. People usually hire lawyers or mediators to do this stuff because it’s easy to get wrong. Reigen refuses to get it wrong. 

He knocks on the door of apartment 417 and stands back and waits. The envelope is worth its weight in tears. The doorknob rattles. Then turns. 

Then he’s staring into the face of Hanazawa Eiko. 

She looks nothing like Teruki from her brown hair to her brown eyes to her confused and unhappy face. She has more frown lines than Reigen has years to his name. 

“Hello?” Hanazawa Eiko says. She stands in the door with her whole body, taking up as much space as possible. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Reigen Arataka,” Reigen says. “I’m a friend of the Kageyama family. Including Teruki.” 

She’s still confused, but the unhappiness tilts into interest. “Teruki.”

“Yep. I’m just here to give you this.” Reigen presents the file to her with both hands. “I’ve been given the honor of serving you.”

“What?” She rips it out of his hands and opens the slip.

“Ah, if you could not read it in front of me—”

“What is the meaning of this?” she says, meeting his eyes. She must’ve read enough to have gotten the gist. “He’s blindsiding us with this, now? Where is this even coming from? His father—” Fury, for half a moment. “His father is going to be devastated when he hears, don’t you understand?”

“Probably not as devastated as Teruki,” Reigen says. He shouldn’t, but. “You got on without him the first twenty six years of his life. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” She laughs, and he hates how it rings in the air. “My son stabs me in the back and you mean to tell me this is fine?”

Reigen stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Listen.” She shuts her mouth, brows drawn tight. “What exactly is your goal here?”

She’s gritting her teeth behind her lips. “I want my son back.”

“Gathered that, but why? Are you so angry he’s living comfortably without you that you have to come in and ruin that? Or do you have a conscience after all and you’re trying to soothe it in the way that best suits you?” He pauses. “Or maybe you’re lonely.”

Her face contorts. It isn’t anger. Not quite. “What do you know about our family?”

“I know Teru’s made his boundaries pretty clear,” Reigen says, “and what he’s asked for isn’t unreasonable. You tracking him down to his home regardless of what he’s asked for tells me everything I need to know about you.”

“What do you know about raising an esper?” Ah, sure. He could’ve expected this. “That boy put me through hell. All I ever wanted was for him to show a little appreciation.”

He thinks of Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama at Shigeo’s wedding, their tears and their laughter and their pride. He thinks of the jokes lovingly ladled at poor Ritsu about how finicky he’d been with the flowers. He thinks of the way they love and how much they’ve had to handle between their sons, and how angry and devastated they’d be if someone dared lay a finger on them.

He thinks about walking Teruki down the aisle. It’s not the same as raising someone, but it’s a culmination of all the things it should mean to be a parent.

“I’m not gonna argue with you,” Reigen says. “But if you’ve got a single self-preserving bone in you, you’d cut this shit out and let Teruki go.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You’ve gotta understand. It’s not me. Maybe it’s the guy behind the counter at the discount drugstore. Maybe it’s the guy working nights at the restaurant no one really goes to. If it’s not them, it’s the person who owns the floral shop, or the woman who goes to the park every day with her kids. Or it’s a shady psychic business. The personal trainers at the gym. That weird girl with a telescope you wouldn’t give a second thought.”

“You’re espousing nonsense now?”

“What I mean to say is, this city is full of people who love Teruki and are looking out for him,” Reigen says, “and all of those people have people who are looking after them. I don’t know what foot you think you have in the door, but you’re gonna lose your chance to walk away real fast if you keep pushing. It’s not a threat. I just thought if you won’t do it for him, maybe you’d do it for yourself. That’s all I’ve got. Goodnight, Hanazawa-san.”

He turns away.

“Wait!” 

He stops. Eiko’s got a hand reached toward him, but she hasn’t closed the space. The envelope crinkles under the strength of her grip. 

“I—” Eiko begins, but that’s as far as she gets before the distress on her face tilts into something that could be shame, maybe, if not for her denial. She stares at her hand and then at the envelope and then at the ground. “I do want my son,” she says. The confidence is gone. The entitlement isn’t, but it’s changed. “I—... 

“... If you really care about Teruki,” Reigen says, “you’ll leave him alone. The only decent thing left for you to do at this point is to walk away.”

“Walk away?” Her face is incredulous. “The reason why he’s mad at me to begin with is because I walked away, and now that’s what he wants? How am I supposed to know what to do if nothing is ever good enough for him?”

God, Reigen does not want to have this conversation. It’s not the walking away that made Teruki put his foot down—it’s the neglect, the abuse, the abandonment. But this is not a person he can speak logically to. He can explain it to her until he’s blue in the face and she isn’t going to understand.

But her question isn’t disingenuine. 

Goddamnit. 

“He told you to leave him alone,” Reigen says. “I don’t think he can make it any clearer than that. You had a chance. You lost that chance. You don’t get to choose when you’re a part of his life again, if ever.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“... Become a better person,” Reigen says. “Do it for yourself and for the people you’ll meet in the future, and leave him out of it.”

He leaves her behind. She doesn’t call out to him again.

The seventeenth of November comes with a dry and biting cold. The one client Reigen had scheduled for today bailed, which likely isn’t a good omen, so he cranks his apartment space heater to max and leaves the office closed. He has no shortage of emails to catch up on. Not to mention the months-long anticipation building towards today.

He hasn’t heard from Shigeo or Teruki, and probably won’t until this afternoon, maybe early evening. Staying distracted with emails will help.

He gets a call just after noon. Shigeo.

He’s never picked up his phone faster. “Shigeo, hey.”

“She didn’t show up.” 

“How d— what?”

“She didn’t show up,” Shigeo reiterates. “The judge gave us everything we asked for. The whole order, we got everything.” 

“You—wait, what? She didn’t show? She missed the hearing?”

“Yeah.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.” 

“I don’t know, the court is going to get in touch with her, I think. But we don’t have to be involved. We’re… We’re done.” 

“Holy shit.” It was— easy? Reigen doesn’t want to think of it like that because it was hell for Teruki, but just like that? “That’s—How’s Teruki doing?”

“He’s… kind of in shock. But he’s good. We’re going to get food and go home.”

“Right. And how are you doing?”

“I’m also in shock, but good. I wasn’t expecting everything to be granted.” 

“Yeah. That’s good, though, isn’t it?”

“Better than good. If the order was just around Teruki and our home that would have been enough. The esper division was really sympathetic and a lot of people in the courtroom recognized us from what happened with Claw, I think, and when his mother didn’t show up— Oh, Teru’s back. I’ll call you later.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“Bye.” 

Shigeo hangs up. Reigen sits there stunned.

Just like that? Eiko didn’t show. Which also means she didn’t contest. He’s a little bit pissed that she didn’t show up, actually—could’ve at least had the professionalism to handle this properly—but on the other hand, it does mean she didn’t contest. 

It’s not like she would’ve had a choice. Contesting the order would’ve just made her look like shit, especially if what Shigeo said about the esper courts is true. Showing up was a basic courtesy, as was expected of her. Teruki would have been granted the order either way.

But bitterness aside, maybe this was her way of letting him go. 

Maybe this was her way of running trying to save herself. Who knows.

… In any case, trying to psycho-analyze her isn’t worth his time. The years to come will make her intentions pretty clear.

His phone pings. Group chat notification.

 [barbie and ken’s spiritual successor] The judge granted the protective order. We got everything we asked for.

 Tome’s the first to hop on and react with Serizawa right behind her. Ritsu is more generalized in his response, which likely means Shigeo called him personally like he called Reigen. Reigen pops in with a response similar to Ritsu’s with a dash of Tome to make it convincing; if Teruki is keeping details scarce while processing his mother’s no-show, he’ll play it cool.

“Let’s hear it for freedom!” Tome slams her mug into Shigeo with reckless abandon. “I knew you guys had it in the bag! There was no way she was gonna win after everything she did.” 

Spirits and Such’s favorite ramen shop has somehow stayed in business all these years—maybe solely on the patronage of Spirits and Such, but even so it’s a good ramen shop and the owner doesn’t mind their bombastic group dinners. They’ve got the whole crew with them tonight—Tome, Ritsu, Shigeo, Serizawa, Teruki, Reigen. Feels like old times.

“Ah, yeah.” Teruki rakes a hand through his hair, twirling noodles around his bowl. “My mom actually didn’t show up to the hearing, so we won by default.” 

“Oh, seriously?” Tome leans back, taking a large swig of peach-flavored soda. “That’s weird. Would’ve thought she’d be the type to fight.”

“Yeah, well.” Teruki glances sideways at Shigeo, who glances sideways back at him. They both face the group. “Thanks for sticking it out with me,” Teruki says. “Honestly, I don’t think I could’ve gotten through all of that without you guys. This… This has been a long time coming.”

“Overdue, if you ask me,” Reigen says, slurping ramen. “Don’t sweat it.”

Teruki smiles, and it’s real. “Thanks.”

Tome calls for a second round of noodles.

Shigeo shuffles out of the bathroom, dressed in cozy clothes and toweling his hair dry. His footsteps quiet and Teruki feels his gaze. “Teru?”

Teruki hums, lost in thought. His mother’s photo album is across his legs, missing several incriminating photos and leaving behind the rest. Shigeo draws close, settling at Teruki’s side. 

“I should get rid of this,” Teruki says. 

The words hang. He turns the page. 

“Do you want to get rid of it?” Shigeo asks.

It’s a spread of him running through sprinklers over the grass of his parents’ lawn. It was the last good summer he had up until middle school. “I feel like I should,” Teruki says. “... I feel like I should want to.” 

“If you’re sure you want to get rid of it, that’s fine,” Shigeo says. “But if you have any doubts at all, then it’s fine to hang onto it, too. It’s not something you can replace.”

Teruki hums again. 

Shigeo leans into his shoulder. “Are you coming to bed soon?” 

“Yeah.” He turns another page. Shigeo yawns and nudges under Teruki’s arm. “You can go on ahead, I’ll join you in a bit.”

“I’ll stay.”

“You’re just going to fall asleep on me.”

“You like it when I do that.”

Teruki huffs. “You’ll say it with that much confidence?”

“Sure.” 

Teruki leans into the back of the couch, taking Shigeo along for the ride. Shigeo drops his head onto Teruki’s chest. “What did I just say,” Teruki says, but he’s too damn smitten for his own good. An old coworker warned Teruki about the novelty of marriage and how it gets old and tapers off, but he’s been married to Shigeo for four years and if he could do it all over he’d still choose Shigeo.

Shigeo reaches up to poke him between the eyes. Teruki nearly sneezes. “Excuse me.”

Shigeo’s smile is made of sleepy adoration. “You make this face sometimes,” Shigeo says. “It’s cute.”

“I ma— what.”

Shigeo shrugs and turns into Teruki’s chest, settling down.

  “Wait, no you don’t, explain.” Teruki grabs him by the shoulder and tries to extract him. “Explain what that means. What face is it? I’ll make it more often.”

“Maybe now would be a good time to go to bed after all.”

Teruki pushes the album off his knees, wraps both arms around Shigeo’s stomach and essentially suplexes the both of them across the couch. Shigeo yelps. Teruki fails at not laughing.

“You’re hilarious,” says Shigeo. “Do you wanna go to bed now?”

“Alright, alright.” Teruki sits up, releasing Shigeo. “Go on ahead, I’ll get the lights.”

Shigeo slides off of him and to the floor before ambling to his feet. Teruki zips the album shut and clicks out the lights, double-checking the deadbolt and then following his husband into their bedroom. Shigeo has starfished himself on the center of the bed, which is just as well. Teruki drops over him sideways and Shigeo jerks awake with breathy ‘eep’. 

“Sometimes,” Shigeo says, his voice empty, “I think it would not be so bad to have two beds.”

Teruki knows he’s joking, so he laughs. “We could get two beds. Push them together.”

“Oh, and then when we’re fighting we can separate them.”

“I’ll gradually just inch mine closer and closer as the night goes on…”

“Like a serenade.”

Teruki makes a garbled noise. “Like a what?” 

“A serenade, like in that romcom we watched where the wife was upset and the husband cheered her up by singing.” 

“Wow, Kageyama, I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic.”

“We have matching socks. And it wouldn’t be romantic if I actually sang to you.”

“Maybe not romantic.” Teruki twists around, propping his elbows up on Shigeo’s chest. “But it’d be cute. I’d forget all about being mad at you. Just try it next time we’re fighting or something, I guarantee it’ll work.”

“Our marriage is doomed.”

Teruki kisses him. Shigeo goes quiet, startled—then he presses forward. Teruki wraps his arms under Shigeo’s shoulders to pull him close. Shigeo’s fingers thread into his hair. It’s quiet and it’s gentle—familiar and tired and soft. It’s just a kiss, but it’s nice. 

They pull away at about the same time. Shigeo’s eyes are so deep. Teruki strokes Shigeo’s cheek with his thumb. 

“I love you,” Teruki says.

Thank you.

“I love you too,” Shigeo says. 

“… I think I’m gonna keep the album,” Teruki decides, smoothing Shigeo’s hair off his face. “Until I know for sure.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah.” Teruki leans in again and Shigeo meets him in a shorter kiss. Teruki pulls away, cups Shigeo’s face in one hand. Shigeo’s eyes are so dark that it’s hard to tell what color they are, but the red shines clearly under the moonlight. Shigeo blinks up at him. His brows pinch.

“Teru?”

“Yeah?”

Shigeo touches his face. “You’re crying.”

“Oh.” A tear splashes onto Shigeo’s cheek. Good timing. “I—I guess I am. Uh.”

Shigeo’s thumb brushes underneath his eye. It’s such a tender gesture that Teruki’s chest caves in. He tries to breathe through it, scrubbing his face. 

“Sorry, sorry, I—” It hurts. “I was just thinking—I love you, you know that, Shige?”

“I do.” Shigeo’s voice is so, so kind. “I love you too.”

Teruki sobs and Shigeo tugs him down, pressing Teruki’s face into the side of his neck. Shigeo runs cold. It feels nice. Teruki wraps his arms underneath Shigeo’s neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” Teruki gasps.

Shigeo’s fingers filter through his hair again. One arm winds around Teruki’s shoulders. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You’ve put up with so much from me.”

“Not really.”

“You have, Shige.”

“It’s been worth it,” Shigeo says.

Teruki doesn’t know what he’s feeling. It’s hard to tell where the pain ends and relief begins—mainly he’s overwhelmed and he’s in love and overwhelmed with the thought of being loved, and overwhelmed with the thought of that love not coming from his mother, for as many years as he thought he was over it.

More overwhelming still is the possibility that she does love him, but would sooner go his whole life hurting him than show it. 

He means to keep the photo album. It’ll stay in the back of the closet where he has to go out of his way to see it. 

Shigeo’s wedding ring gets caught in Teruki’s damaged hair as he runs his fingers through it.

Teruki wishes he were at a better vantage point to crush Shigeo as close as physically possible. He also can’t fathom drawing back. 

“Thank you,” Teruki weeps. 

He feels Shigeo nod. “I don’t regret anything,” Shigeo says. “But I especially don’t regret you.”

That does it. Teruki goes for the vantage point, yanking Shigeo into his arms and wrapping him up in his aura. Shigeo squeaks, which is cute and hilarious and also makes Teruki cry harder. He’s holding something precious who holds Teruki’s heart like it’s something precious.

Shigeo is so, so gentle with Teru’s heart.

Shigeo acquiesces to the new position. He draws his aura over Teruki like a blanket and lets Teruki hold him. Teruki still feels like he’s the one being held.

“I don’t regret you either,” Teruki whispers.

Shigeo traces tiny shapes against Teruki’s chest. It’s all he can realistically do with his arms pinned. “That’s nice.”

Teruki laughs. And chokes on it. And laughs some more. It doesn’t take long before he realizes Shigeo is crying, too.

It isn’t over. It might never be completely over. But it’s forward. 

He can be okay with just moving forward.

[theycallme-thejackal]

Lenny reminding Midge he still finds her hot and sexy despite the fact they’re getting older

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated T

Midge loves her birthday.

They’ve always had big blowouts. Huge celebrations with family and friends when she’s home, and when she’s on tour, he visits and plans a fun couple of days for the two of them. She always looks forward to a day (or three) to just celebrate her.

But in 1973, she’s been surprisingly quiet.

He notices her spending more time on her night routine. More time when she’s doing her makeup is spent tugging at her skin to make her (practically nonexistent) wrinkles smooth. The leotard and tape measure have come out of the drawer several times in the last two months.

He’s got a gig, and she comes with him, sitting at a table and watching his set. The gig goes well. He gets lots of good laughs, and in the last five years or so, his arrests have lowered significantly. He thanks the audience and heads off stage, where he is immediately set upon by a woman in her mid-twenties.

He lifts his brows in surprise as she immediately starts gushing, laying on the flattery very thick. She’s an attractive woman. Petite. Her dark hair is pin straight and parted down the middle, and he thinks she looks a lot like if someone cut off Cher’s head and stitched it to Charo’s body.

It’s not rare that something like this happens, and he and Midge have a pretty foolproof way of dealing with overly enthusiastic fans, but she’s nowhere to be found. Her glass is empty on the table, a few bills sitting underneath it, and he extricates himself from the babbling brunette.

“Hey, Wayne,” he says to the booker. “Have you seen Midge?”

“Yeah, she left a couple minutes ago,” he replies. “Looked upset. What’d you do, Bruce?” Lenny waves his hand dismissively and heads for the door. “Hey! Don’t you want your money?” Wayne calls.

“I’ll get it later!” He calls back, heading out the door.

He doesn’t see her anywhere, but then he looks down the alley next to the club, and there she is, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, and looking incredibly stressed out.

“Thought you finally got sick of me,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading into the alley.

She looks over at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thought you’d rather talk to that girl instead.”

Lenny’s eyes widen in shock, and he stops in his tracks. “Where’d that come from?”

She shrugs and shakes her head. “I’m getting old,” she mutters. “I’m going to be forty next week. I can’t compete with twenty-five year old bombshells.”

“The only bombshell I’ve seen tonight is standing in a dirty alley in shoes that weren’t made for standing,” he comments.

“Don’t lie,” she mutters around the filter. “That girl was gorgeous.”

Lenny sighs as he moves to stand in front of her. “Midge, I’m not blind. Yes, I occasionally notice other women. But none of them could ever replace you,” he swears, lifting her chin with the knuckle of his forefinger. “I’m not gonna throw away the last fifteen years for anything.”

She lifts a brow skeptically. “We’ve only been together for thirteen,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, but we met in ‘58, and I’m not throwing away Miami or the Steve Allen Show or the Village Vanguard either,” he replies. His hand cups her neck, and she blinks up at him, clearly trying not to cry. “I love you, Midge. And I’ll still love you when we’re ninety and wrinkled and I’ve got cataracts and your tits hang down by your waist.”

She scoffs a laugh at that. “I love you, too, Lenny,” she says. “I just...I’m...”

“Not twenty-six anymore,” he finishes for her. 

Midge nods slowly. “I’m never going to be that cute uptown chick in the red dress, getting bailed out by a gorgeous stranger.”

He smirks at that. “Good, because if anyone’s bailing you out, it better be me.” He finally gets a real smile from her then, and he kisses her softly. “I gotta get my money. Come with me for protection?” He jokes. “And then we’ll go home, and I’ll spend a couple hours showing you just how sexy I think you are.”

"A couple hours?” She asks with a grin. “Feeling ambitious, are we?”

“And very turned on by my gorgeous wife,” he answers.

[recurring-polynya]

Soul Society Tattoo Artist AU Meta That No One Asked For: Who Killed Kaien Shiba?

So, you may have noticed Kuukaku and Ganju making an appearance in my most recent Soul Society Tattoo Artist AU comic. That was pretty much planned from the beginning, along with the next one, where they end up doing Renji a pretty significant solid, which got me thinking, how did Kaien’s death play out in this universe, and what role did (or didn’t) Rukia play in it?

See, the fanfic part of this AU (which I know you haven’t seen yet, I’m working on it) opens with Rukia trying to get a dirtbaggy tattoo to piss off Byakuya. Unlike canon Rukia, who entered the Academy barely literate and scrabbling to figure out social norms, this Rukia was adopted by Byakuya as a child, and raised with all the personal attention and high expectations that Byakuya would have given to the younger sibling he never had. Rukia is basically the star of the Academy, and Byakuya already has her twenty year plan to Squad Six vice-captain all mapped out. Except... Rukia’s doesn’t sit comfortably in her nobility. She doesn’t want to uphold the honor of Soul Society and drink fancy wine, she wants to protect people and do good. Mostly, she wants to join Squad 5 with her friends (lolololololol). 

Meeting Renji is a seismic shift for her-- she’s never met another person who questioned their own duty to society as much as she has, and through her association with him, she comes to realize that just because she doesn’t like her privilege doesn’t mean she should try to discard it. So, she ends up joining Squad 6 after all, with the goal of bringing a sense of social consciousness to the elites of the Gotei. 

I had all of this figured out, pretty much off the bat, but it raised a couple of questions, namely 1) how does Rukia end up on the Living World mission where she meets Ichigo, and 2) who went with Ukitake to witness Kaien losing his fight with Metastacia? What if, I said to myself, what if the answer to #2 was...no one. Ukitake is an immensely strong and ancient captain, and I think that he could have taken Kaien/Metastacia down, but at great cost to his health. 

This entire incident is an enormous blow for Squad 13. They’ve lost their Lieutenant and Third Seat, as well as the entire unit that was slaughtered by Metastacia (it’s unclear how many people this represents, but in the anime Metastacia-possessing-Miyako goes through the squad a murders a significant number of people as well). Their captain is effectively disabled for who-knows-how-long. There is hushed talk that Ukitake is going to be replaced (but by who??) or Squad 13 possibly even disbanded. The squad is roundly seen as bad luck, and people are filing transfer requests right and left.

I’ve always headcanoned Ukitake as a family friend of the Kuchiki, and I can especially see him and Hisana getting along. I think Byakuya would have been friendlier with Kaien and Miyako as well (I always make Byakuya 1000% more friendly with everyone in AUs where his wife doesn’t die...which still basically only brings him up to “will tolerate their presence at dinner parties” but anything is an improvement) and I think Rukia may still have done a bit of training with Kaien, since elemental swords run in the Shiba family.  

Rukia, who at this point is Third Seat at the Sixth, and basically shadowing Shirogane in the interest of replacing him, decides she can’t allow this to stand, and begs Byakuya to allow her to transfer to the 13th in order to help hold things together until Ukitake can get back on his feet. More than anything else, this has huge symbolic value: the Kuchiki princess and Byakuya’s personal protégé, delaying her own vice-captain’s exam to go do the paperwork of three people at a squad that’s in shambles, because that’s how important she thinks Captain Ukitake is. 

It works, it stops the hemorrhaging. Byakuya doesn’t like it, but he and Rukia have come to an understanding that her continued role as stand-in Kuchiki heir hinges on him respecting the things she feels she needs to do. She also ends up taking quarters at the Thirteen, which allows her to get some degree of freedom and also allows her the chance to surreptitiously spend some time in Rukongai with Renji, which is good, because she’s so busy now that she’d hardly get to see him otherwise. (Renji, for his part, is extremely proud and supportive of her choice)

When the comics part of the story picks up, Ukitake is doing much better. Rukia has passed her vice-captain’s exam and is on the cusp of transferring back to the Sixth. Ukitake wishes like Hell he could keep her, but he knows Byakuya has been patient enough. Just for old times, he decides to send Rukia on one last deployment, just a few weeks in the World of the Living, since that’s a thing she’s not likely to get to do once she’s an assistant captain. After all, what could go wrong?

[tennessoui]

1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.

ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3

1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.

It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.

Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.

Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.

Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.

They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.

Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.

He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.

But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.

Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.

Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.

When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.

Well. Not alone, actually.

A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.

He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.

“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.

It’s so small.

His soulmate must be...must be just as young.

Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.

But he has a soulmate.

-----

Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.

His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.

“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”

Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.

Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.

Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.

The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.

Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.

And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.

A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”

Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”

She grins at him and licks his face.

“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.

----

Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.

He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.

She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.

“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.

Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”

It is not normal, thanks.

Odyna howls in agreement.

When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.

Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.

He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.

Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.

His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.

If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--

He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.

Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”

Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.

“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.

It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”

Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”

Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”

“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”

Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.

But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”

Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”

“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”

Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.

-----

“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”

“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.

“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”

“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.

Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.

Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.

I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.

Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.

-----

Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.

It’s kisses.

More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.

[maddiwrites]

The Hybrid (I)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: Thank you for being patient with me as I slowly write this series. I had this idea a long time ago and I’m not finding motivation to write it but the inspiration comes and go. I smile with every comment that is left on my fics and I’m so grateful for this community. Thank you for letting me pursue my creative writing without judgement. Love you guys! (Also, yes. If you didn’t see my last note, I based YN’s family off of the Gilmore Girls characters. That’s who I picture as them.)

Word Count: 8k

 Masterlist   Prologue 

You wake up to someone falling on your bed next to you with a dramatic sigh. Knowing exactly who it is, you choose to ignore her and try getting back to the dreamless sleep you were peacefully having before you woke up.

That is, until she sighs again. 

You flip onto your back and stare up at your ceiling fan that’s quickly spinning above you. “What, Rory?”

“How did it go with Andre and that boy?”

You look at her with one brow raised. “You woke me up to hear about Andre’s love life? That hardly sounds like you. You don’t care about high school drama or hookups.”

“You’re right,” Rory says. “But I thought I would ease you into what I actually need to tell you.”

You turn on right side and look at your sister confused. “What?”

She sighs. “The cafe’s basement flooded last night. Mom needs us there to help her clean up and take inventory on what’s salvageable.”

You turn back on you backside and close your eyes, exhaling a deep sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Rory says and pats you twice on your covered thigh as she sits up. “Come on. I made you pre-cafe coffee. It’s sitting in the kitchen.”

You throw your sheets off of you and trudge to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face. It’s about 8 a.m. At least you were able to get about six hours of sleep. 

Last night, it was hard to let your brain rest to fall asleep. You kept tossing and turning, thinking about the blonde Pogue who walked you home. You missed how easy it was to talk to someone who you felt truly knew you. Your banter rolled off your tongue easily and you never had to worry about offending him because you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew what he could take and what he couldn't. 

Talking to him brought back childhood memories you had hidden deep in your mind. How JJ would constantly poke you until you ripped into a smile on days that were grey. How you used to steal John B’s bandanas until he was chasing you around his house to get them back. How you would draw a mustache and a unibrow on Pope’s face when he fell asleep by the water. 

Those days felt like they were decades ago. So far away, you didn’t know if you’d be able to reach for them again. If it was even possible to get back. 

You thought about texting him. Thanks for walking me back. We should all get together soon! You had written out. But then you deleted the whole message, telling yourself it was because you didn’t know if he even had the same number. But deep down, you were just afraid of the rejection. 

Its been about three years since the four of you had been together in one place. You don’t know what they’ve been through or if they’ve changed. They for sure as hell don’t know what you’ve been through. You don’t know if they're dynamic has changed. Clearly you and JJ can still joke with each other but what about John B and Pope? You heard about John B’s father disappearing at sea, most people believing he’s dead, but John B holding onto hope that’s he’s alive. You always thought about calling him to reach out and offer your condolences. But for the same reason you didn’t text JJ, you never called. It didn’t feel like your place. They had Kie for that now. A little part of you felt jealous of her, like she had replaced you and any memory of you. She seemed nice, but she wasn’t you.

“Ready?” Rory pops her head in to your room as you slip on a cropped plain white zip up jacket over your cropped black tank. 

“As I’ll ever be,” You say and snag the car keys out of her hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’m driving.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “I want to get there safely.”

“And I want to get there quickly.”

“Fine. But we’re taking my car. It actually has doors.”

For your sixteenth birthday, your grandparents gifted both you and Rory your own individual cars and even let you pick them out. Rory chose a black 2020 Honda Civic for it’s safety features and reputation for longevity as if she was planning on handing it down to her future kids. And you picked out a white 2020 Jeep Wrangler with a hard top that pops off along with the doors for a very open and thrilling ride. Everyone but you called it a death trap, but you found it to be the perfect summer car. 

You park Rory’s boring Honda Civic in the back of the cafe in a lot used specifically for employees. The cafe is already booming with teens and families, waiting for their morning coffees and fresh pastries. Kids your age are running around behind the counter with sweat dripping down their brow bone to get everyone’s orders out in a timely manner. 

In the back of the store, your mom walks up the steps from the basement with two large trash bags and immediately notices the two of you. “Oh good. You’re here. Rory, help the girls behind the counter. The dishwasher’s broken and poor Hailey is hand washing everything. Y/N, come with me downstairs.”

“Why does Rory get the fun job?” You grumble and follow your mom back downstairs after she tosses the two trash bags. 

“Because she’s actually nice to the customers.”

“Treat others how you would like to be treated. Isn’t that what everyone always says?” You smirk. You never agreed with the phrase ‘the customer is always right.’ It’s complete bullshit and being the employee shouldn’t mean letting yourself getting verbally abused by a ‘Karen’ on the other side of the counter. 

The basement is used for the cafe’s storage, lined with wooden shelves Steve put together that hold to go cups, back up espresso machines, boxes of coffee and food and ingredients, etc. Now all the boxes are dark and sopping, creating puddles on the concrete floor. 

“Oh my god. Mom. How did this happen?”

“Jenky water pipe busted in the middle of the night,” Steve walks down the stairs and passes your mom a knowing look. It didn’t surprise you that he was here. He’s the jack of all trades. Owns his own automotive shop, builds a lot of his own furniture, actually cooks a decent meal, and has the same outlook on customer service as you do. He was probably your mom’s first call. “Talked to the plumber. They can’t get here until at least noon.”

“Noon? We’ll be underwater by noon. I might as well turn all my employees into a swim team,” Your mom says.

Steve shakes his head. “I was able to hold the leak until he gets here. You should be fine.”

Steve was the first person that actually helped your mother out when's she moved to the Cut. Six months pregnant, she pushed her car into his automotive shop after it broke down on the side of the road. Their banter was similar to the one you and JJ have. He helped save your mom money by building yours and Rory’s cribs, changing table, and dressers. And ever since, the two of them had been connected by the hip, although they both refuse to admit it. You think the pair are just trying to deny the love they clearly share for each other. And you think the main reason for that is because of the incident four years ago with your mom’s ex boyfriend. No thanks to you.

 “Look at you constantly building your resume,” You smirk at him. 

Steve scoffs. “It’s more than what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes. Steve is the closest thing you have to a father. He practically helped raise you with your mom. He’s the one you turn to whenever a fight with your mom goes too far, which isn't too often but it happens. He usually lets you stay at his house for the night to let you cool off. But he’ll never sugar coat his advice when it comes time for him to give it. Even if you don’t ask for it. He knows growing up with Rory has been challenging. She was clearly your mom’s favorite, or at least that’s what you thought. She has a 4.0 GPA with a realistic dream to get into Brown University and study journalism. She played by every rule, never got into trouble, and spent most of her free nights getting ahead of her school work or staying late at the cafe with an open book from the library across the street. She was an absolute angel to everyone else, making you look like her evil twin. 

You glare at him before turning to your mom with crossed arms. “What do you want me to do, Mom?”

“Actually honey. Can you go to Heywards and grab more coffee filters and napkins. The water soaked right through the plastic wrapping on our last box.”

You nod, leaving your mom and Steve to clean up the basement themselves. Before heading out, you sneak behind the counter and make yourself a quick coffee to go.

“Where you going?” Rory asks as she reaches behind you to grab a banana for her customer at the register.

“Heywards to grab a couple things for Mom.”

“Oh. Make sure to grab toilet paper while you’re out. I think we’re almost out of it.”

“Got it.” 

Heywards is only a short drive from your mom’s cafe. It’s the closest convenient store that isn’t crazy pricey. It’s where your mom gets all her supplies whenever she runs out of things before shipment gets there. 

You use to always come here when you were younger with the boys, each of you, even Pope, stealing a small bag of chips or a candy bar here and there. Little did any of you know, Mr. Heyward caught your thieving hands every time but never said anything. 

The bell above the door chimes when you walk into the store. You know this place as well as you know the cafe, finding the toilet paper and coffee filter immediately. 

When Mr. Heyward looks up from the counter, his smile grows. He can pick you out of a crowd anywhere, but he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Last time he saw you, you had braces and overgrown bushy brows. Now you had bushed hair and shaved legs. 

“Hi. Mr. Heyward,” You grin shyly at him. You don’t know how he’s going to react to see you, unsure of what Pope might have told him about you. 

“Little Miss Y/L/N? Is that you?” Heyward smiles widely, pulling your own lips into a wider smile. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with school and my mom’s cafe...” Both of those things were a lie. You just avoid the Cut to avoid the Pogues. 

“How’s the fam?” 

“They’re good,” You say as Heyward hands you your bags. “Mom says hello by the way. I’m actually taking these to her store now.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. We miss your smiling face around her. Anette, too.” Heyward says, mentioning his wife. 

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Of course, darling.” 

Heyward and Anette always had a special place in their heart for you and Rory. They’re not one for gossip, but they knew a little bit about what your mom’s been through and have heard plenty of stories about your grandparents. They always thought, despite your mom’s background, that you and your sister were raised impressively. Anette always hoped that one day Pope and Rory would get together. Everyone always wanted their child to be with Rory. 

As your about to leave the store, the bell chimes again with another customer. Only it’s not another customer. It’s Pope and John B. They don’t see you at first, and you wonder if maybe you can sneak out without them seeing you. But something about that felt wrong. Especially because Heyward would more than likely mention to them that you were here. 

Pope sees you first and stops in his tracks. “Y/N?” 

“Hey, guys. Long time no see,” You smile at both of them. You bite down on your lip awkwardly when you meet John B’s stare. You don’t know if you should mention anything about his dad’s disappearance. But what would you say? Sorry? What good would that do?

“How’ve you been?” Pope gives you a small side hug, then John B. 

You shrug. “You know, living the dream.”

“How’s life as a Hybrid?” John B smirks. 

You roll your eyes playfully and groan. “Oh god. Never call me that again.”

You may be considered a Hybrid by everyone else, but you would never put yourself into that category. You grew up a Pogue, the same way everyone else did around you. The only thing tying you to the Kooks are your grandparents. 

“Why?” John B smirks. “I wish I was a Hybrid.”

You smirk back. “Maybe you will be one day. I hear you have a Kook of your own for arm candy.”

You saw a faint hint of blush on John B’s cheek at the mention of his girlfriend but you don’t mention it. “Sarah, yeah. She’s not like the other Kooks.”

“I would hope not. Her brother’s a dick.”

“Yeah,” They laugh. 

“We miss you, you know.” John B says. Pope looks at you, trying to read your expression. John B’s not wrong. They do all miss you, especially Pope. He felt like you were the only one who really understood him. Of course his other friends are great, but you actually took the time to try and understand his passions. Like forensic science. 

“I miss you guys too. It’s been a while.”

“Well, hey. We’re actually all getting together tonight at my place. Nothing big. Just a bonfire and a couple beers. You should stop by,” John B says.

“Yeah,” Pope says, immediately getting hopeful that you’ll show up. 

Your smile falters. The invite makes your heart swell and your lungs contract. It’s an invite you’ve been wanting for three years. And now that you have it, you don’t know what to say. It’d be different if it was just the four of you like old times. But now there’s Kie and Sarah and although you have nothing against them, you’re afraid they won’t accept you. The thought of your boys picking them over you terrifies you. 

“Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to swing by later.” 

Pope smiles wide and looks at his friend to see his reaction. John B grins and nods, almost impressed that you had agreed. But he saw the twitch in your lips when the question was asked. 

“Great. I guess we’ll see you later then.” 

You nod. “Okay. Bye guys.”

You suck in a deep breath when the fresh air outside of Heyward’s store brushes over you. Your heart thumps wildly with both excitement and nerves when you’re finally able to collect your thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do tonight, but the possibilities can change your entire summer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You spent the rest of the day mopping up the cafe’s basement and rearranging the shelves. You smelled of sweat and coffee grounds by the time you were done and dreamt of the shower you would be taking when you got home. 

Rory drove you home after the two of you closed up the cafe for the day. Neither of you said much. Rory was exhausted from running around behind the counter and you were too busy thinking about whether you’d go back to the place you used to call your second home.

You took a longer shower than usual, still pondering what your night would be like. Your head was telling you to stay home but your heart pulled you in the direction of the Cut. You yearned to hear about what the future held for Pope, and listen to John B retell stories of when you were kids, and be able to stare into JJ’s bright blue eyes without him noticing. 

You changed into a pair of jean shorts and a plain red cropped tank. Rory walks into your room as your brushing out your hair and looks at you as if you lost your mind.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t wear that,” She says.

You brows scrunch together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I wear shit like this all the time.”

“Not to the Country Club, you don’t.” That’s when it hits you. Today’s been so hectic, you forgot what day it was. “It’s Sunday.”

Sunday dinner at the Country Club is now a weekly commitment forced upon you by your grandparents. Each week, your mom, sister, and you are forced to spend one dinner with your grandma and grandpa. This is basically your mom’s payment back for sending you and Rory to Kook Academy. Only they actually pay for the dinner. It’s usually the longest two hours of your entire week. It’s hard to listen to your grandfather rant about Real Estate and your grandma slyly critique your mother in almost every aspect of her life. 

“Shit. I completely forgot,” You say.

“Well, you better change. We’re leaving in about five minutes,” Rory says then plucks a gold necklace from your dresser. “Oh and can I wear this tonight?”

You sigh. “Sure.”

You change into a baby blue wrap around dress and pin your wet hair into a half up half down due. It’s gonna have to work for the limited time you have to get ready. After applying a thin layer of makeup to look the least bit presentable, you meet your mom and sister by the front door.

“Finally,” Your mom says when she sees you. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was Sunday.”

“It’s okay, honey. I just don’t think I can handle another late remark from Mom today.” She looks you up and down and grins. “You look great.”

Despite the many fiery fights you and your mom can have, she is also your best friend. It’s kind of like a love hate relationship. Steve says it’s because you’re exactly like your mom - almost like a sixteen year old version of her. 

You really hope that isn’t true. You’re not ready to have a kid in two years. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Your grandparents are already sitting at a round table in the corner of the country club by the two tall windows that reach up to the ceiling with a view looking out into the golf course. The best seat in the house for the richest a holes on the island. 

“Lorelai,” Your grandmother grins, but you can instantly tell it’s sarcastic. “Did you have to walk here?”

You speak up before your mom could. “Sorry Grandma. It’s my fault we’re late.”

Your grandparents are hard on your mom but easier on you and Rory, especially Rory.

“Well, you’re here now,” Your grandpa says. He’s usually the mediator between your mom and grandma. Although he’s usually sucks at it. “Sit. Sit.”

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, JJ shuffles through his many coworkers with his apron in one hand and a piece of fried calamari from Miss Carol’s appetizer in the other. 

“JJ -” She scolds and slaps his hand away from going in for a second piece. 

“Good evening Miss Carol,” JJ smirks and makes his way to the area between the kitchen and dining room where most of the servers and bust boys hang out. Some of the boys slap him on the back or shove him by the shoulder, chuckling to themselves. “What’s going on boys? Busy crowd?”

“What are you doing here? You never work Sundays,” His friend, Mitch, says. 

Luke Maybank was behind on several bills - worse than it’s ever been. They already shut off their electricity and JJ wanted to make sure the water wouldn’t be next. 

But JJ shrugs nonchalantly. “Little extra dough can't hurt.”

“Well, you picked a good day,” Raymond walks up to the blonde, rolling his sleeves. “You got Kook Royalty and their Hybrid offsprings in your section.” 

“What?” JJ looks through the small square Plexiglas on the swinging door. He knows exactly where to look and immediately sees you sitting with King and Queen Kook, looking absolutely miserable, pushing around your food with your fork. 

“Damn, Maybank. Almost broke your neck - you turned so fast.”

“Shut up, Easterling. I was just seeing how crowded we were,” JJ lied. He really just wanted to see if you were here. And now that he sees you are, he’s a little nervous to do his own damn job.

Raymond Easterling chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you were looking at. But don’t get your hopes up. There’s a reason Kooks call that girl the Heart Sucker. Not even the high and powerful JJ Maybank could get a piece of that.”

The guys around JJ and Raymond chuckle and nod in agreement, hearing the stories of how you’d reject every single guy that’s ever asked you out. Sometimes you’d go on a few dates, trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone, but then things would quickly become too much, and you’d get overwhelmed. 

JJ didn’t like the way Raymond talked about you or how the others laughed at your expense. His hands clenched into fists, tempted to throw a punch in Ray’s cocky face.  The guy’s just being a jerk because he’s one of the guys that got rejected by you, he thought. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” JJ shakes his head and ties his apron around his waist to distract his hands.

“No?” Raymond challenges him. “You think I’m wrong? You think you could pull the infamous Hybrid over there?”

JJ glances back through the window. You’re looking at your grandma with a clearly forced grin. You’re twirling your hair between your fingers, a habit you picked up when you were little to do when you’re bored. JJ would find you doing that in school all the time. 

You’re gorgeous, he thought. It’s no wonder that almost every guy on this island has tried to make a pass on you, including JJ himself, but his remarks always come off as playful, afraid of actually telling you how he feels about you. His fantasies about you went further than just getting you between the sheets. He could picture getting married, having children, and growing old together. Years ago, the two of you would talk about your future. Neither one of you cared about money or fancy jobs. All you wanted was to be free - of this island, of each other’s families, of responsibilities placed on you from birth. You hold the same values as JJ, and he’s never met another person like you. 

But JJ has a hard exterior. No one other than his best friends know his true heart, and he wasn’t going to let someone like Raymond Easterling find out about his soft spot for you. He would never hear the end of it.

JJ looks at you one last time. You’re talking to Rory, your face in his direction. This time you’re smiling, probably discussing something other than your grandparent’s expectations of you. He’d kill to see that smile every single day.

What’s the worst that could happen? You reject him? Yeah, that might kill JJ inside, but maybe you’d still be his friend, or continue to be acquaintances like you are now. As long as he gets to see you, he’d be okay. There was always the future. But who knows? Maybe you’d say yes? He’ll never know unless he tries. Right?

JJ fakes the same cocky grin that Raymond wears. “I haven’t failed yet.”

The guys around him whistle and shake their heads with smiles. 

“All right, Maybank. Let’s make a bet. I’ll give you one hundred dollars to get Y/N Y/L/N in the sack by the fourth of July.”

JJ scoffs. “You like giving away free money?” He ignored his racing heart at the thought of being that intimate with you.

Raymond nods. “Okay. Let’s put your money where your mouth is. Get her to say ‘I love you’ by the end of the season and I’ll raise you an extra hundred and cover all your dishwasher shifts in September.”

JJ raises his brows with surprise. No one offers to take the dishwashing shift. Sometimes the boys are pulled back there when the kitchen is short staffed and it’s easily one of the worst jobs at the Club.

This bet was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Deal.” JJ says.

The boys shake hands on it and the other guys whisper to each other about how intrigued they are to see this play out.

JJ wipes his sweaty palms against his apron and pushes the door open to approach your table, hoping he can hear you over his thudding heart. 

“Good evening folks. May I take those empty plates out of your way?”

You look up at the voice you know so well and a smile raises on your lips. JJ meets your eyes and he winks at you, splattering your heart in flutters. 

“Please.” Your grandmother pushes her plate away from her, stuffed with filet and red wine.

“JJ,” Your mom grins up at him. Growing up, your mom always had a soft spot for the blonde Pogue. She’s heard the stories about his father, mostly from Steve, who actually grew up with Luke Maybank, his cousin. As a child, he was sent to live with Luke Maybank and his single father. Lets just say, he’s not surprised by the way Luke turned out. “Look at you. You’re all grown up now. Last time I saw you, Y/N was still pushing your head in the sand for stealing her popsicle.”

“Yeah. I quickly learned no one should mess with Y/N and her food,” JJ says.

“Never stopped you though,” You smirk at him.

“Lorelai. Who is this?” Your grandma asks, disregarding the boy himself.

“Mom,” Lorelai gives her mom a warning look. “This is JJ Maybank. He went to school with Y/N and Rory.” Lorelai knew to play it safe with her wording. She didn’t know where you and JJ stood. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him and she knew better than to ask. 

“Nice to meet you,” JJ says politely. “I’d shake your hand but mine are kinda full.” He motions to the plates in his hand.

“That’s quite all right.” Your grandma’s smile is so forced, it makes you uncomfortable. 

“I won’t hold you up. Has your server been around with the dessert menu?” JJ looks at you. “We have chocolate cake tonight.”

Heat rushes up your neck. Not because of the cake itself but because JJ remembered your favorite dessert. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. It was safe to save you were a choco-holic. The boys use to make it for you every year for your birthday. It usually came out burnt, none of them ever remembering how to properly make it. But it was all you needed to feel like a very special girl. 

“Your favorite,” Rory elbows you.

Your grandma cringes. “Sounds like diabetes on a plate.”

“Mom,” Lorelai scolds. 

“What?” She asks, not understanding the concept of a filter.

Now heat rushes to your cheeks for an entire different reason. “He did. We’re not doing dessert tonight. Thank you, though.”

JJ nods but feels disappointed by the way your face flinched at your grandmother’s comment. 

“My pleasure,” He says like he was taught to do and excuses himself to drop the plates off in the back before he can say anything else that would probably get him fired.

Your mom looks at your with raised brows. “He’s cute, honey.”

“Lorelai, please. He’s the busboy,” Your grandma says.

“He’s a good kid, Mom.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

Rory gives you a knowing grin as you walk away from the table. When you walk into the hallway between the dining area and the front lobby, you immediately feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Sometimes just the presence of your grandparents and their pompous judgements can be suffocating. You do your best to bite your tongue around them, excusing yourself when you feel yourself getting heated. 

JJ catches a glimpse of your light blue dress out of the corner of his eye when he rounds the corner to collect the plates off a different table. He looks over his shoulder at Raymond, who’s staring at the blonde watching you, and winks.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ says, walking up to you.

You look up from your phone and immediately smile. “Hey. I was actually hoping I’d catch you out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nervously tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry about my grandmother. She can be...”

JJ shakes his head. “Hey. It’s okay. I work for Kooks almost every single day. I’m use to it.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” JJ says. “Besides, that’s probably the nicest she’s ever been to me.”

You hide your face in your hands. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

JJ laughs and takes your wrists in his hands, slowly pulling them away from your face. Your eyes shoot up to his, immediately feeling a tingling feeling run through your skin, straight to your heart. 

“It’s okay. I promise,” He says softly. His voice is so sincere that you have no other option but to believe him. It almost makes your feel guiltier, wondering how much bullshit he’s been through with ungrateful Kooks that it’s so easy for him to forgive and forget.

“Okay,” Your voice is a whisper, taken off guard by how close he is to you and how he still hasn't let go of your hands. 

In that same moment, JJ realizes he’s still holding you and gently removes his hands. He coughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck, where sweat begins to bubble. Why is he so nervous?

“So um...” You say, suddenly feeling nervous too. “You going to John B’s tonight?”

JJ’s eyes shoot up in surprise. How did you know that? “Yeah. I’m heading over there after work.”

“I saw him and Pope at Heywards earlier today and they invited me over. I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Because it’s different now, you wanted to say. But you didn’t because you feel like the elephant in the room would only grow. And you didn’t want to admit you were nervous to meet Kie and Sarah outside of school. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You should definitely come. The boys miss you.”

You pretend like a little piece of your heart didn’t just break when JJ didn’t say ‘we.’ 

“What time do you get off of work?”

“Around 9ish.”

You nod. “I can pick you up if you’d like and we could go together?”

Your heart races after you suggest it. What if he says no? Why were you feeling this way? This is the same kid you use to make fun of for pouring milk into his bowl before his cereal. 

“Yeah. That’d be perfect.”

“Great!” Your phone pings with a text from Rory, telling you that your grandparents are wondering where you are. “Shit. I have to get back. I’ll see you at nine?”

“See you then,” JJ nods and turns back to the kitchen. When his eyes meet Raymond’s, he’s reminded of what he agreed to. Almost surprised how quickly he forgot about it. You were able to take his mind off of anything without even trying. He clears his throat to get rid of the giddy grin he was wearing after talking to you, wanting to look tough and casual in front of his coworker. “Easy.” He says to him. But that felt anything but easy. He could vomit with nerves.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to screw up, Maybank.”

JJ huffs. He’s not wrong. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You drive up to the front of the country club and park in front of the main entrance. It’s 8:57. You’re early and will look eager. So you wait until 9:06 to text him that you’re here.

You changed into a pair of dark washed denim shorts, a yellow cropped tube top, a grey flannel, and navy converse. You changed your outfit about four times before deciding on your first one, not wanting to look too casual or too dressed up. 

For the last three years, you wondered when the four of you would get back together as a group. You wondered if it would ever happen. And now that two Kooks are involved, you feel more nervous than excited.

You jump when the passenger seat door opens, lost in the depth of your own head. JJ smiles, not seeing your reaction.”Cool ride,” he says and looks around the interior. 

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out into the road.

“I got you something,” JJ says.

You glance at him with furrowed brows. What could he have possibly gotten you since you saw him last? A book mark from the Country Club’s gift shop?

JJ reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plate with clear wrap around it. Your mouth drops when you see the chocolate cake on a plate in his hands, the smell immediately hitting your nose with pure delight.

“You saved me a piece?” You jump in your seat excitedly.

“Had to hide it good too or else Miss Carol would have had my ass handed to me,” JJ jokes and even pulls out two forks. He undoes the wrapping and cuts off a piece. He waits until you hit a stop sign and says, “Open up.”

You look at him and immediately open your mouth. He gently places the fork between your lips and you take the piece of cake off with your teeth. Like a baby.

Your eyes close with pure pleasure. “Oh my god. That’s amazing.”

“Miss Carol does know how to bake a mean cake,” JJ says and takes a bite of his own.

“Another one,” You say, glancing at the cake again. Like you said, choco-holic. “Please.” You say when JJ teases you by holding the fork away from you.

JJ laughs. “I like hearing you beg.”

You slap him in the arm with the back of your hand. “In your dreams, Maybank.”

“You got that right, Y/L/N.”

The two of you finish the cake with only a few bites each. Small but rich in chocolate that leaves you craving more. You were gonna have to meet this Miss Carol woman. 

After he puts the plate back in his bag, JJ reaches for the aux cord, but you quickly slap his hand away. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re seriously gonna make me listen to this the entire way to John B’s?”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know Blink-182 is one of my favorite bands.”

“It’s also soccer moms’ favorite band,” JJ laughs at you.

You turn up the volume, blasting ‘All the Small Things’ and point to your ear. “Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

JJ rolls his eyes but laughs along with you, even bopping his head to the beat. You drive with the windows down, dancing and singing along to a bunch of throwback songs with JJ as if the two of you have been doing this forever. 

You pull up to John B’s and park behind his dad’s old van, better known as The Twinkie. When you turn down the music, JJ looks at you with a shake in his head. “Next time, I’m driving.”

“What was wrong with my driving?”

“We’re in the Outer Banks, Sparky, not NASCAR.”

You scoff and follow behind JJ who’s leading the way up John B’s driveway. As you get closer, you smell the smoky scent of a bonfire nearby and eventually hear John B’s laugh mixed in with a female’s. Your smile falters as nerves gather in the pit of your stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

“Nothing,” You say, but JJ easily catches your lie and gives you a knowing look. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Who? Pope and John B? I’m pretty sure they like you more than me even after three years -”

“Not them, you idiot,” You shove him playfully by the shoulder as you two let yourselves inside. “Sarah and Kie.”

“Don’t you go to school with them?”

“Yeah, but we don’t talk,” You say quietly, not wanting them to hear you.

“Hm.”

“What?” JJ shrugs. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you cared about what other people thought.”

“I don’t,” You say quickly. “But they're your best friends. It’s different.”

“You don’t need their approval. You technically were here first.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been replaced,” You try to say it as a joke and even throw a smirk in there. 

But JJ stops in his track and looks at you seriously. “No one can replace you. Not even if they tried.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s not a common occurrence that JJ gets all serious on you. Warmth covers you like a blanket and the longer he holds your stare, the weaker your knees become. 

“JJ! Is that you?” John B calls out from the backyard.

“Yeah,” JJ yells back. He opens the fridge in John B’s kitchen. “Want a beer?” He offers to you.

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

For the first time, you take in John B’s home. It looks the same as it did three years ago, only a lot messier. The pull out couch looks like its been used recently with blankets and sheets tossed about on it. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts are thrown messily on the coffee tables and the air smells faintly of old marijuana. 

JJ leads you out to the back where four people are gathered around a fire. Three out of the four immediately smile when the two of you approach them, but Kie’s eyes narrow and her head tilts with confusion.

Shit, you think. 

“You came!” Pope laughs and hops up from his beach chair and embraces you in a hug.

You laugh, not expecting the embrace, but welcoming it all the same. John B’s next, giving you a quick hug and shaking his head.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you were going to come,” John B says.

“You can thank me for that later,” JJ says jokingly.

“Actually when I heard JJ was coming, I almost changed my mind and stayed home,” You joke and smirk JJ’s way.

“Just like old times,” Pope says, looking between you and the blonde. The banter felt like the yall never separated in the first place. 

“Hey, you know Sarah and Kie, right?” John B points to the girls. Sarah stands up to say hi, and eventually Kie follows her, not wanting to look rude, but stays off to the side, keeping her distance.

“Yeah,” You wave awkwardly. 

“Hey!” Sarah says sweetly. “I didn’t realize you guys use to all hang out.”

“Y/N grew up down the street,” JJ explains and sips at his beer. 

“You want a drink or something?” Pope asks you, not knowing JJ already did.

“No thank you,” You say again.

“You don’t drink?” Kie asks. It was the first thing she’s said to you.

“Not usually,” You say and hold her stare. You try to get a read on her, but she’s had to get a tell on. You can’t tell if she just doesn’t like you or just doesn’t know you. Either way, it makes you uneasy. 

“Here, I’ll go grab you a chair,” Pope says and walks to the side of the house to grab another beat up beach chair. 

As the night goes on, you feel the tension in your shoulders loosen and your body feel lighter. Most of the night was spent retelling childhood stories the four of you shared. Sarah would laugh at most of them, occasionally rolling her eyes at her boyfriend from the stupid shit he would do, although it sounds like he’s no different to you now. 

You talked about the time you and JJ stole a golf cart for a joy ride on Figure Eight, or when you and John B pranked Pope by putting a dead fish in his locker, or how you and John B learned how to play guitar from youtube tutorials. 

Midnight came around quickly and exhaustion was slowly taking over your body. It’s been a long day between the cafe flooding, dinner with your grandparents, and now this. 

JJ was the first to notice you slowly fading. 

“You okay?” He asks you quietly as everyone else is caught up in conversation. 

“Yeah,” You say, lazily grinning at him. 

“We can leave if you want,” He says.

“You’re not staying?” You ask. It sounded like everyone was planning to spend the night here. And as much as you wanted to, you just didn’t feel comfortable enough yet. 

JJ shrugs. “My dad’s out of town tonight. It’ll be nice to have the house to myself.” Before you can say anything, he stands and brushes his hands against his pants. “All right, losers. We’re out of here.”

“Aw, you’re leaving?” Sarah pouts.

“Yeah, I’m beat and Y/N’s my ride home,” JJ says.

You were glad he didn’t call you out for being tired. You didn’t want to look lame in front of everybody, especially Kie.

“Thanks for having me,” You say to everyone. It might have been John B’s house, but it was everyone’s night you intruded on.

John B stands up to hug you. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

Pope hugs you next. “Text me when you get back safe.”

“I will.”

“Bye!” Sarah waves and Kie exhales a ring of smoke from her blunt.

You wave at them before following JJ back to your car. 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” JJ says. You didn’t realize you both walked to the driver’s side.

“What? No.”

JJ nods and holds his hands out for your keys. “I’m not dying tonight.” 

“You’ve been drinking and smoking all night,” You say. You didn’t think JJ was drunk or even that high, but you were not going to let a teenager with an ounce of alcohol in his system get behind the wheel. “Next time. For now, hold on to the cupholder.”

JJ sighs dramatically and goes to the other side of the car and hops in the passenger seat. 

This time you keep the music quiet, listening to the hum of the radio instead of your phone. 

“Take a left,” JJ says.

“JJ, I know where you live. And it’s not left.”

“Don’t you trust me?” 

You snicker. “Not in the slightest.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “Just take the left.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and take the left turn. He directs you for a couple more miles until he has you park in front of a 24 hour diner. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask.

“I’m in the mood for a milkshake.”

“We just had cake!” You say.

“Come on, Sparky. Show me what that mouth can do,” JJ smirks. 

You go to hit him again but he takes off running to the front entrance and pulls the door open. You chase after him, almost running into his back at the front host stand where JJ safely smirks at you in triumph.

“Two please,” He says to the hostess. 

The old cranky woman leads you to a booth off to the side next to a window without a word. 

A couple minutes later, a waitress walks by and asks if you’re ready to order. 

“Yes. One chocolate milkshake and one black and white milkshake,” JJ orders for both of you, already knowing what flavor you’d want.

“And fries, please.” You say. The waitress nods, takes your menus, and walks off. JJ raises his brow at the extra order. “What?” You shrug. “Just showing you what my mouth can do.”

JJ scoffs. “What a tease.” 

You playfully kick his shin under the table.

“Did you have fun tonight?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” You answer. “Felt like old times. The girls are nice too.”

You were about to only mention Sarah, but you didn’t want to cause any issues with Kie. Not yet at least. Maybe she just needed time to warm up to you.

“See? I told you they wouldn’t bite.”

A couple minutes later, the waitress comes back with your milkshakes and fries. 

“How’s John B doing? You know, with the whole Big John thing?” You ask delicately, unsure of how JJ would react to you pestering about John B’s business. “I didn’t want to ask and bring the mood down,” You explain yourself although you don’t need to.

JJ shrugs. “He’s in denial I think. Won’t sign a death certificate until he sees a body. He could be worse, though.”

“Yeah,” You say softly. You don’t know what you would do if you were in that situation. In a way you felt lucky that you never knew your dad at all. It would be harder to lose him, knowing who he was.

You take a fry and dip it into your milkshake before taking a bite. This makes JJ freeze and look at you like you have two heads. 

“What?” You say with your mouth full.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” You say and give him a look to do it.

JJ reluctantly picks up the fry and dunks it into his milkshake. He looks at the fry questioningly before popping it into his mouth. Somehow the sweetness of the milkshake and the saltiness of the french fry complement each other beautifully and his widen in pleasant surprise. 

“Oh wow,” JJ says.

“Told you,” You smirk.

You spend the next hour catching up, trying to fit the last three years into an hour. JJ does most of the talking because you want to know more about what John B, Pope, and JJ have been up to. Your life was so boring and depressing, you didn’t want to bore JJ with the details.

You drive JJ home and talk for a few minutes more when you park. He seems to be procrastinating getting out of the car, but you don’t mind. You could talk to him all night, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“All right. I’ll let you get home before the sun rises,” He says and opens the door. He pauses when his feet hit the ground and he looks back at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work at the shop, why?”

“Well, there’s a storm coming in. John B and I might go out to surf the surge before it hits. You still surf?”

You scoff. “Do I still surf?”

JJ holds his hands up in surrender. “Just checking. You think you can handle the surge?”

“Let’s not forget who the better surfer is, JJ.”

“I didn’t. It’s still me.”

“You wish.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Now you have a point to prove. You have to show JJ that you’re still the better surfer. 

“I'll see you tomorrow,” You agree. 

“Great, it’s a date.” He winks and shuts the door before you can tell him otherwise. 

You giggle to yourself as JJ walks up the front yard and stay there until he you see he gets in safely. 

You pull out of the driveway, wishing he had asked you out on a real date. One that didn’t involve John B.

Tag list: @super-funky-bisexual​ @sunsetswithjj​ @moniamaybank​ @throwawayfish​ @poguestyle17​ @5am-cigarette​ @jjpouggues​ @fly-away-from-here​ @buckys2thicc​