#been proud of gerry in her own fucked up way

[atlas-five]

mary keay #1 misandrist

[bamboobrat]

succession s4 e1 recap: bridget random-fuck and the logan roy selfie fiasco

happy return of succession, everyone! and with that, my completely unhinged and ridiculously time consuming recaps. i was honestly not sure i wanted to go down this rabbit hole for another season, but given that it is our last, i think i'll have to.

my coping mechanism currently is complete and utter denial. let's see how long that lasts.

we start off the episode at the most depressing birthday party there ever was. did you think the season one birthday party was bad? at least there was baseball and logan nearly dying. in season four it's all greg calling himself an honorary kid and fingering a girl called bridget in the guest room.

something tells me logan is regretting teaming up with tom and greg right about now.

in california, the siblings are pitching investors on a new media venture. as per usual, there's a lot of bullshitting involved and i can't tell if kendall is high or not during all of it, but it's nice to see the sibs be a team - at least for now.

back in new york, kerry is not happy with greg bringing bridget random-fuck to logan's party. couldn't agree more.

as for shiv, she is totally fine with the idea of tom getting a drink with naomi pierce.

this is definitely the face of someone who is fine:

if this was any other show, i'd launch the theory that shiv is pregnant right here. but this is succession, so that seems unlikely.

also, maybe i'm just projecting, knowing that snooks is pregnant.

either way, we've got a fantastic shiv episode on our hands. can't wait for sarah to win all the awards.

connor is polling at one percent, but is getting squeezed. as willa says, it's all super greedy, since his opponents already have all the other percents.

frankly rude to do my guy con and the conheads dirty this way. what would an election be without an unhinged billionaire, i mean, i can't remember. it's the american way.

anyway, this is the look of someone who has just been reassured he will still be part of the business, even if he gets a divorce:

super reassured.

bridget random-fuck keeps causing problems. first, she posts about a pierce family member being at the birthday party on social media, then she asks logan for a selfie saying, and i kid you not, kar-ching.

all the unhinged gerri kellman lesbians immediately notice her in the background, judging.

bridget is like an unhinged version of greg in the first episode of season one. good for her.

meanwhile the birthday boy is having a great time without his kids. nothing screams birthday like contemplating your own mortality.

i've also seen some posts that are like "wow so much has happened in ONE year", indicating that this is logan's 81st birthday, but i'm not sure. they don't mention his age specifically, so i think we can just live with the ambiguity of whatever timeline we are comfortable with.

i personally think it's been a few years at least. if not, shiv and tom's marriage would have lasted what, six, seven months? rude.

after shiv's phone call with tom, the kids start realizing that logan is planning to buy PGM (again), and they immediately back out of the business venture they have been planning for the last few months.

and the award for most delusional goes to kendall for this comment:

roman is the only one that's not into buying up a dying media conglomerate because he is a girlboss. he's really the only one who wants to build up a new company from scratch and i'm so proud of him.

what a journey we roman fans have been on. truly.

logan takes his best pal, colin, on a date, and we realize, once again, that logan respects the people who work for him more than he ever will his children, because his children have been given everything all their lives.

logan does a whole "is there anything after death" shakespearean monologue and the odds that he will die by the end of this season are forever in our favor. this pleases me:)

connor wants to use his wedding as a political stunt, which makes me think the timeline of this season will be super short. will all the episodes take place during the ten days leading up to the election?

seems strange, given that they travel to norway, but it's an interesting thought.

greg has sex in the guest room and logan has CCTV. or at least tom wants greg to believe he does. anyway, i don't really want to get into it. poor bridget.

gerri, it seems, is still out in the cold after the dickpick ordeal. truly destabilizing to see our queen on shaky ground, but also good for her that she gives less of a fuck, leaving karl to look like this:

perfection. he is and will always be a true foodie.

anyway, logan doesn't take the news that his kids also want to buy pierce well.

on the west coast (in napa?), nan is truly weaponizing her liberal image and the whole "i'm just an old lady who doesn't understand capitalism"-vibe.

it's a sight to be seen.

roman, of course, sees right through her.

but it doesn't really matter, because the roy kids are too occupied with waging war on their father to notice they are getting played.

and to think i'm lowkey rooting for this idiots...

greg doesn't want to see what happens in guantanamo and leaves dealing with random-fuck to colin, the one true hero of this show.

gerri is straight up not having a good time.

we need to save her.

the kids offer up 10 bill for PGM. it feels extremely rushed and stupid and driven by revenge, but i'm glad to know roman knows how many zeros there are in a billion.

someone get him to new york asap so he can show gerri.

the kids win the bid and logan is not happy:

this is the look of a girl who needed a win. bless her heart.

because eventually, shiv goes back to new york and has to face tom, the traitor, disguisting boy from st. paul who wants her to talk....

... and if you know anything about being emotionally repressed, you'd know that is absolutely not an option.

so they lie there for a bit and hold hands and all of a sudden i realize that this stupid show has done it again. they made me care about a bunch of terrible, rich people. AGAIN.

i hate you, jesse armstrong, i really do.

during the last scene, we get one of the best lines of the episode:

logan is at home, alone, watching ATN and calling cyd to complain. i honestly can't tolerate cyd slander. that being said, i do hope we get a war of the networks between ATN and PGM moving forward.

if you stayed with me for this entire recap, congrats. you're just as demented as i am.

for next weeks episode, i need more gerri. i bet you are all surprised to hear that.

[matchingbatbites]

WIP Wordsearch Game

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can’t find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don’t have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

Tagged by the wonderful @scarcrossdlvrs tysm! <3

I finally found a second to do this! I was talking with Gerry @barbariansteves about the band Ghost and it made my brain all sparkly, so I'm pulling from the in progress sequel to on your knees before babylon.

My words: first, blank, under, lips, deep

first

There’s a brief pause as Steve absorbs the information, then he blinks as heat floods his face, because- "Holy shit, I know who he is." 

Dustin's head snaps to him. "What? You do? This is about you?"

"Yeah, uh. That was definitely about me, and I definitely know who he is." Of course, because how could Steve ever forget Eddie fucking Munson? The first boy Steve had ever kissed, at someone's fucking house party.

That was spring of '83, long before he dated Nancy, before he learned that the world had actual, real monsters. Even though he had been drinking, Steve still has vivid memories about the way Eddie’s hands felt around his waist, about how good it felt to be the small one for a change.

He clears his throat and says "Yeah, that's- Have I heard that song yet?" 

under

He learns about the tour, about Eddie's favorite places they've been to, and gets to hear funny stories about the band. In return, he talks about his job, about the teens that have become his little family, his platonic soulmate and how much he misses her even though he’s so proud of her. 

When he mentions the kids playing D&D, Eddie blinks hard a few times before saying "Sorry, just- Can you repeat that? Hearing you say 'Dungeons and Dragons' made my brain melt a little."

Steve laughs, grins bright as he says "Yeah? What happens if I tell you about my half-orc barbarian that I played for Erica's birthday last year?"

The older gets a look in his eye, something sharp and hungry that sends tingles up Steve’s spine. 

"I, unfortunately, get arrested for public indecency for sucking you off under the table while you talk D&D to me."

A shoe presses against Steve’s ankle meaningfully, and heat floods his face at just the thought of it. “Well I doubt your bandmates would appreciate you missing the concert tonight, so I think we'll save that story for another day.”

lips + deep

Eddie looks at him, cool and calculating, like he’s searching for something in Steve’s expression, and Steve hopes, prays that Eddie knows he wouldn’t do this just to be mean, that he wouldn’t risk his own reputation just to humiliate Eddie.

The metalhead seems to come to the same conclusion as he hums low and reaches out, long fingers wrapping around the back of Steve's neck, and the younger shivers at the contact, at the cool touch against his own flushed skin.

“Alright, then. C’mere, pretty boy.”

Steve feels spellbound as he watches Eddie take a hit before pulling him in, closing the distance between them. Their lips brush together, feather-light as he blows the smoke into Steve's mouth, and the younger inhales, feeling absolutely dizzy at their proximity. 

Steve is so painfully close to getting what he wants, and he can’t help but to close the gap, turning the sharing of air into a proper kiss. He has to taste, to test, to see if the rumors are true, and it feels like something finally clicks into place when Eddie kisses him back, deep and wanting, because oh.

<3

Not going to tag anyone specific because I've seen this going around <3

[freeddead]

〝   @bornchaos​   ⟶   ❛  no one here has any interest in bourgeois rules or morality, mix that in with roulette wheels ? a stunning recipe for success.  ❜

Gerry trails after her as she leads him through the main hall of the event.  She did manage to get him in a vest for this thing.  He dressed up, at least somewhat, because he knows that this stuff is important to her.  He is still wearing his heavy boots, but the fact that he is in a vest and necktie and that he left his long leather coat with the doorman is probably an improvement by somebody’s standards.  He even took the time to redye his hair and tie it back so that it doesn’t look as noticeably stringy.

“You sure know your way around these places,” he says, looking out at the myriad of donors throwing their money at the roulette and blackjack tables.  It really is a good way to raise money for a cause.  Cora needs money for her charity, and these people get to have fun while they give it to her, which is necessary sometimes.  A lot of people don’t like parting with their money out of the goodness of their hearts.

Gerry has already given her some of his own—what the fuck else is he going to do with it?  But he has never been much of a gambler, so he is content to just watch everybody else play.  The roulette wheel is a lot more fun to watch when you don’t have any nail-biting stakes in it.

Once they come to a stop in front of a table full of glittering champagne glasses, Gerry picks one up and then really takes the time to look at Cora.  Not at her new designer dress or her meticulously styled hair pinned up just right or the golden bracelets on her dainty wrists—he doesn’t give a shit about any of that.  Rather, he appreciates the way she holds her chin up and her shoulders back, the cocksure gleam in her eyes, her poise, and the total control she seems to have over herself.

“I’m sure I’ve told you this, like, a million times already, but...”  He looks down into his glass, swirling the golden liquid around, hesitant in actually drinking it.  (He doesn’t like champagne.)  And he smiles, some unrestrained, idiotic smile.  “It’s cool, seeing how far you’ve come since we’ve met.  I’m just… proud of you.  You know that, right?”

〔  legend  〕  〢  accepting .

[yellowocaballero]

Web!Jon Roleplays Canon!Jon: With Mixed Results?

I wrote this a while ago and now that Sucker’s Bet is finally finished I can post it! Yay! This takes place an indeterminate amount of time after the end of Sucker’s Bet. The exact opposite thing happened with this story that usually happens: I had a very depressing idea and then I was REALLY METICULOUS to make sure it was fluffy. What’s fluffier than healthy discussions about boundaries, needs, and consent?

CW for some unnegotiated roleplay stuff? The same topics that were hit in Sucker’s Bet are hit here. Suggestion of future sexual activity/language but no follow-up. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity.  Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet.

Martin…

They probably wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell.

Or maybe they would have. Jon was silently hoping that Tim and Sasha would become more comfortable with him. He had a lot of tricks and methods to make them more comfortable with him, but he had decided very firmly to relax. If Tim and Sasha didn’t like him...well, he had already done possibly the douchiest thing possible to them, and they hung out with him anyway, so their expectations were probably on the floor.

Granted, that was mostly in Martin contexts. He rarely hung out with them alone. They were probably only putting up with him because he was Jon’s boyfriend. Jon knew how it was, and frequently exploited it: you think you’re part of his group until you realize he’s terrible and break up with him, and then suddenly you have no friends, so you never get around to breaking up with him and you’re never happy and you never find someone you’re happy with. 

Martin assured him frequently that they liked him. He suggested that Jon ask them, which he may have gotten from a CBT workbook that he surreptitiously read, but Jon was well aware how that put people in an awkward position. If they didn’t like you, what would they do - tell you?

Well. Tim would. Yeah, Tim would. This was why Tim was trustworthy and a good person. Jon loved people who were incapable of lying, it was like watching zoo animals through binoculars. 

They wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell. But they were drunk as hell, and there was nothing better than pub tricks. 

“What I don’t understand,” Tim said, in that kind of dancing lilting way that only the half-drunk were capable of, “is how you convinced everyone that you knew how to do that job when you, like, don’t read anything more complicated than fashion magazines.”

“I knew he couldn’t do the job,” Sasha said furiously, draining her gin and tonic. “I knew it, but did anybody listen?”

“We all knew, honey.”

Jon shrugged, adjusting his long linen shirt that hugged his torso flatteringly. Honestly, if Jon had been born a woman he would have been too powerful. “That one involved a little bit of spider powers,” he admitted. “But not much. I didn’t do much other than record statements. Telling Sasha that we ‘appreciate her initiative’, but, like, grudgingly, meant that she actually did most of the work.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped in indignation. “I did most of the - shit, I did! I did all of the archiving stuff, didn’t I?”

“I just looked really hurried and spent a lot of time in my office,” Jon said apologetically. “If you always sound stressed then people just assume that you’re doing things. I was really chatting up people on Tinder most of the time.”

“I was not paid enough,” Sasha grumbled, leaning back in her seat. 

“You keep making yourself out to be lazy,” Martin said mildly. He wasn’t drinking, designated as the sober one of the group tonight. “But you were using that downtime to do other work for your other job.”

Jon himself had a drink or two and he was pleasantly light headed - not drunk, but tipsy enough to feel confident and to shut up all of the annoying anxious voices in his head. It was refreshing, and felt very good. That being said, when Jon was fourteen and Gerry sixteen Agnes sat them with a twenty slide powerpoint presentation on how drinking culture in the UK facilitated alcoholism without recognition of it, so these are things you should never do while drinking and this is how to prevent binge drinking and unhealthy drinking habits. Jon didn’t always listen - alcohol was God’s solution for anxiety - but he tried. Agnes also tried that with Annabelle, but she just hissed at her and downed an entire energy drink at once while staring her in the eyes. They figured Annabelle wasn’t at risk. 

“I still don’t believe you,” Tim said imperiously, slamming his pint on the table and making his beer slosh. “If you did the whole schtick now, it would come off so fake.”

“Definitely. I never fall for the same thing twice,” Sasha bragged. “It would obviously still be Jon - what, Hawthorne? Jon Hawthorne. Or was it Hastings…”

“Hawthorne today,” Jon said politely. But he just shrugged, leaning back in his own seat and sipping delicately at his hard cider. “I can guarantee that, if I pulled out that persona again, nobody at this table would be able to see through it.” At Martin’s surly look, Jon appended, “Maybe Martin would.” Everybody shot him slightly incredulous looks, and he sighed. “I promise I’m good at my job! I’m only...transparent when I’m socializing outside of a persona. You all caught me at a weird time in my life.” He shuddered. “Vacations. Never again.”

“The problem with all of that was vacations,” Martin said flatly. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin. 

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet. 

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity.  Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet. 

Martin…

In Martin, Jon saw the same thing that he had always seen. Even stronger, today, than ever. For a month, back then, it had been little more than intrusive thoughts and some light, bored mental meandering. For two, three, months, it had grown deeper and deeper, so thoroughly that it was a surprise. Jon had done a very good job with him. Granted, he had just meant to flirt to keep him complacent, not to end up...doing all of that, and going through all of this, and ending up here. That had never quite been in the plan. 

Martin thought that this roleplay would he really fucking hot. Which, ultimately, swayed Jon: he liked it when Martin thought he was hot. It wasn’t hard, but somehow it meant much more to him than it did from anybody else. It was very strange: that something so easily attained was treasured so highly. Deeply nonsensical. 

“I’m not doing it,” Jon said firmly, and both Tim and Sasha groaned. “It’s not a party trick, guys. Martin, can you scooch? I need the loo.”

Jon, of course, took a slightly meandering approach to the loo. He ditched his pea coat and scarf at the table hidden underneath the tablecloth just out of sight. He fetched a pair of abandoned glasses left on a pub (their owner was annoying a woman), grabbed an abandoned blazer off the back of a chair (its owner was almost passed out drunk, Jon could give it back before the end of the night). He slipped into the bathroom and added his new accessories, taking care to tuck his shirt in. He slipped a hairband from his wrist and quickly did his hair up in a messy bun - he really did need a lot of gel and some combs to get it in his bun normally, but he’d do the best with what he had. Jon glanced in the mirror, looking himself over and fixing his bun as best as he could. He took a deep breath, then two. 

There was always that moment: when Jon slid into it. It felt like skidding on ice, thrust someplace else. Or like an exhale, centering himself as his molecules rearranged. It was a thrilling feeling, often accompanied by a heady thrill or adrenaline. 

No matter how many times he did this, it was still fun. Jon loved it. He really, really loved winning. And Jon always won. 

When Jon walked back to the table, his posture was uncomfortably stiff yet visibly hunched over. Look proud and professional, but deeply feel uncomfortable with the noise and sound and clamor of the pub. Anxious and socially awkward, but trying to hide it - that was familiar. 

Jon halted at the table, where Tim was already telling Martin about a snowboarding accident. They stopped short when they saw him, one hand worrying at his blazer as he scowled at them. “Martin, will you move over? I can’t get to my seat.”

“Uh,” Martin said intelligently. 

“Any day now,” Jon said frostily. 

Martin quickly got up and let Jon slide in. Jon, who had been sitting pressed up against Martin’s side, took care to slide much further away so he was more hovering at the edges of the group -  not enough that it was awkward, but definitely a bit to the right of Sasha directly ahead of him. He avoided eye contact with everybody, picking up his drink and sniffing it suspiciously. The accent was the easiest part of it, the only wrinkle carefully making it almost perceivably fake. 

“Holy shit,” Tim said loudly, voice rising in incredulity, “you actually did it?”

“Did what?” Jon asked. He carefully took a sip of the drink, before grimacing in distaste. “Absolutely vile…” 

“You did the thing,” Sasha said, so excited she was almost bouncing up and down. “You’re doing the thing, holy shit! That was such a Jon face!”

“Er. If you say so.” Jon busied himself with the drink again, obviously pantomiming sipping as he fiddled with the arm of the blazer. Under his breath, yet very audibly, he muttered, “What a waste of time…”

“Man, this is like, what, LARPing?” Tim batted at Sasha’s arm, looking excited. “I’ll play along. Remember we used to do this together?” 

They had. Jon had to pretend that he was unbearably awkward about the whole thing, yet secretly excited to be invited. In reality, pubs were such a cornerstone of Jon’s existence he found them dull as bricks, but it had been fun to channel someone terrified of too many people in a room. 

Sasha’s chin was propped on her hand, giggling. “What’s your organization system for the files, huh, Jon? What’s your organization system? How are you sorting the documents?”

“Tim told me that you don’t talk about work at pubs,” Jon said defensively. “He said you talk about - what was it -” He looked at Tim planatively, obviously lost. “Hobbies? You talk about hobbies?”

“How do you organize the files, Jonathan?”

“Yes, Boss, hobbies,” Tim said faux-sympathetically. He put a hand on his heart, pulling a face. “You gotta have hobbies, right? Shopping, haircare, stealing money, getting fake married?”

“That’s all for his job,” Martin muttered. 

“I have hobbies,” Jon said defensively. He adopted an expression of panicked thought, groping for something. “I like...television.” 

“What television, Jonathan,” Sasha said flatly. 

Jon pretended to sweat. “Television shows?”

“Unrealistic!” Tim slapped the table. “Everyone at least knows a telly show, no matter how much of a nerd they are. Fakey Jon Sims.”

“I do!” Jon protested. “I - well, not recently, but - documentaries count. I watch documentaries. I was watching this fascinating one about the Jonestown Massacre, and the intriguing series of events the lead into the mass death -”

Then he was off, shifting into his confidence when infodumping. Confidence because he was so wrapped up in the joy of sharing information he forgot that it kind of included dominating the conversation, and he watched with satisfaction as everybody’s eyes started glazing over. Everybody except Martin, who was scrolling through his phone looking disinterested. 

Looking. His cheeks were a little flushed. Jon patted himself on the back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, cutting himself off, “am I boring you, Martin?”

But Martin didn’t even look up. “I’m not participating in this.”

“Aw, come on,” Tim wheedled. “Look, he’s even doing the Mah-tin thing. You always started fanning yourself whenever he did that.”

Sasha was, very drunkenly, taking notes. “It’s uncanny. Like a dead person brought back to life and annoying you.”

“Are we really making this entire outing about Martin?” Jon asked, pretending irritation. Play into it. Bloke wouldn’t admit it, but there was a reason he had liked Jon back then. It wasn’t for his sparkling personality, beyond the little flashes of something more tender underneath. Have your cake and eat it too. “You said that this would be fun, Tim.”

Tim just laughed. “Aw, Martin’s not fun?”

“I never said that,” Jon said stiffly. He glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye, clearly working himself up to say something. When he spoke, the words were almost forced out. “What..are you playing?”

“Sincerely buzz off,” Martin said flatly.

Jon couldn’t help it - his cheeks genuinely burned. He looked away, careful to keep an expression on his face as if he was examining the molding because Martin had said something socially awkward, but hot shame flared in his chest. 

He made it seem as if he downed his drink. “Excuse me, I’m...getting us more drinks.”

Jon made a show of slightly stumbling as he made his way to the bar. Martin had given him the permission to extort drinks out of people through flirting and judicious eye-batting - guy was very strictly monogamous but also practical - and in barely a few minutes he had enough collected for their table. He carefully walked them all back, settling them on the table, and waited for both Tim and Sasha to grab their drinks and start enthusiastically downing them. 

He wanted to drop it, ask Martin if he made him uncomfortable, reassure him. But that would ruin the momentum of this, the steam train picking up speed, and it was impossible for Jon to miss the dual things that Martin was feeling.

Super turned on. Also very uncomfortable. Jon decided that he was uncomfortable because he found it attractive, and he was dealing with some guilt over that. 

It would be fun to reassure him, but Jon had the sense that he wouldn’t like him to do it in public. 

Soon afterwards, with a little more friendly yet understated performance from Jon and uproarious laughter from Tim and Sasha, Sasha’s head had begun dropping onto the table more frequently than not and Tim decided that it was time to take her home. More accurately, Jon knew, to Tim’s place, as it was closer. He’d drop her on the couch, he’d slide into his own bed, and he’d think about a different situation. She’d wake up in the morning, eyes squinting against the harsh sun, and hope for a moment - but no, the couch again. Neither were willing to bridge the gap. 

Jon and Martin stumbled out too. Jon had been intending on spending the night at Martin’s place - Jon loved cuddling, it was his favorite thing - and Jon made a show of acting slightly drunker than he was as Martin thoughtfully kept a hand on his back. He stumbled out the door, gripping Martin’s coat and giggling. He had strategically returned the blazer back to the guy, and Martin had his other clothing draped over his arm. 

“And, in my opinion,” Jon stated decisively as he swayed, “as part of our anti-colonialist efforts we should give Ireland back to the Irish -”

“You can drop it,” Martin said, gently guiding him towards the tube station. They still had an hour before the last trains ran. “Seriously.”

Jon giggled, before slightly bending down to whisper in Jon’s ear. He kept the accent, the inflections, everything. “But you really find it hot.”

Martin sputtered as Jon laughed uproariously - not his laugh, the Archivist’s laugh - and they teetered towards home. 

On the tube Jon kept a hand on Martin’s thigh, and Martin kept glancing and glancing towards him, and Jon would shoot him a prissy look as his hand wandered up his thigh, and Martin would get redder and redder. 

When Martin unlocked his flat door it took several times, with his hand shaking slightly, and Jon hid a smirk behind a hand. On some level, he was always roleplaying when he did these kinds of things, but with Martin it was usually so authentic that this was positively novel. Jon’s mind was already furiously churning as he set up the scene - yes, that would be exactly right, this would be fun -

Jon stumbled inside after Martin, who was already taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg. He put Jon’s coat up too, glancing at Jon out of the corner of his eye. 

The Archivist wouldn’t really notice something like that, so he didn’t either. “Lord, Martin, your flat’s as messy as your desk.”

Martin still looked a little pained, even as his cheeks were quite red. “Yeah, ha ha. My desk wasn’t that bad, you were just being picky.”

“Yes, I suppose I must apologize for that.” Jon drew himself up to his full height, stepping close to Martin - closer than the Archivist ever had. “Martin, I’m afraid - well, I have a confession.”

“Oh, boy,” Martin said. 

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Jon said prissily. But he leaned in, keeping his expression just on the faintest edge of innocently scared. “I never wanted to admit this. It was just so inappropriate, what with me being your boss and all. I always - well, I always knew how you felt about me. It was...charming.”

Obviously involuntarily, Martin squeaked a bit. Adorable. 

Jon reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, leaning in. “Truth be told, I was looking at you too. I was just embarrassed. I didn’t like admitting it. But I couldn’t help thinking about it.” That was, obviously, how Martin’s fantasies had always worked. Not realistic, but realism wasn’t the point of your absent daydreams during a boring workday. “But I’m tired of hiding it. I really want you, Martin. I always have. I want you to bend me over my desk and -”

“Shut it off, Jon!”

Jon shut it off. They had agreed on the phrase ages ago, the very solid cue to drop all of Jon’s shit. Jon regularly kept up the shit just because he found it entertaining, and oftentimes comforting, but Martin sometimes found it unbelievably obtrusive when he was trying to have a serious conversation. It was difficult - Jon got panicked during serious conversations, so he usually defensively threw his shit back up again, and it was a self-perpetuating cycle that had frustrated and upset the both of them until they had sat down and talked about it. If Jon couldn’t keep up the conversation without lying, then they both walked away and came back to it later. It was work. But it was good work, the kind that allowed for the good stuff to flourish. Uncomfortable, messy, and real - but maybe that was what Jon liked about it. 

“Sorry,” Jon said. He straightened, letting every expression drop away until he was back at his favored neutral. He knew that Martin found it unsettlingly blank, but he rarely complained. “Did I go too far with the desk thing?”

Martin just stood there, carefully controlling his breathing. Jon waited, letting Martin pick through his thoughts and try to shape them. It was probably more difficult than usual, considering how well Jon had been striking the right notes, so he gave him some time.

Finally, Martin said, “I get having fun with Sasha and Tim. I get us doing roleplay, privately, together. I get you doing a role for your job. But the Archivist gig has a lot of baggage with it, for all of us. Do you understand why I feel weird about you pulling that into bedroom stuff?”

“We watch TV in your bedroom,” Jon pointed out. At Martin’s flat, unamused look, Jon had to fight the urge to shuffle his feet. “I sincerely don’t understand your reaction. I’ve seen your search history -”

“Jon!”

“Research for before we got together, don’t think anything of it,” Jon said quickly. “But doesn’t that make it better? It’s not often somebody gets everything they want from somebody unattainable. Or, you know, not real, but…”

“Jon, for a mind reader you can be terrible at picking up cues sometimes,” Martin said, exasperated. “I know your reasons for doing stuff like this -”

“I’m fantastic at picking up cues,” Jon corrected, oddly huffy. “Because I always know what people want. Their desires, even if they don’t like admitting it to themselves. Do you have any idea how many people on this Earth are bisexual but won’t admit it?”

But, somehow, that just made Martin’s eyes widen a little, as if a realization had cracked. “It cannot be comfortable knowing how many people are attracted to you when you’re sex-repulsed.”

“It’s fine,” Jon lied. “I like it.”

“Jon.”

“Whatever. I got used to it.” Jon shrugged. “I like it when you like me. You’re my boyfriend. I want to make you happy because I like seeing you happy. That’s my ulterior motive.”

Martin sighed again, but thankfully he didn’t look as stressed anymore. Win. He broke away from Jon, instead dropping heavily onto the couch, and Jon hesitantly sat down next to him. His costume abruptly felt stifling, and when he saw Martin’s eyes linger on the bun he undid it and untucked his shirt. God, his hair was a wreck. 

“The Archivist has baggage for me,” Martin said quietly. “I know how I feel, and I try not to be embarrassed over stuff that most people go through and feel. Had enough of that internalized homophobia for a lifetime. I...can’t avoid you knowing how I feel, or what I’m thinking. I know you can try not to look, but you can’t completely control it either. I understand all of this. But you knowing what I want isn’t the same as me asking for it. Do you understand that difference?”

Jon shrugged uncomfortably. 

“Jon. Do you get that I felt uncomfortable because what you did was unnegotiated and you didn’t ask my permission?”

The feeling of embarrassment and guilt spiked higher, and Jon looked away and stared fixedly at some admittedly quite pretty art on the wall. “You’re making it sound bad.”

“I should have shut that down earlier. That’s my bad. You should have stopped to ask. Your bad. We’re both at fault, so we shouldn’t be mad at each other. Are we all good on that?”

Jon stayed silent for a little bit, staring at the wall, trying his best to assemble his own thoughts in his brain. He wasn’t smart. He had problems assembling the words for the complex and large and overwhelming feelings he felt so often. How was Martin so good at breaking this down and putting it into words, when Jon could barely even express how he felt?

Well, Martin probably had more practice…

“You’re so frustrating,” Jon whispered. “You don’t like asking for what you want. You do make me guess. You’re embarrassed to say any of it - the things you want me to do, or the things you like. You do want me to read your mind, because everybody wants a mind reader in their relationship. Especially when it comes to sexual things. But what I can’t read is the...choices you make. Just what you want. And you always make a choice that’s contrary to what you want, and I can never guess. So I do what you want, which is always the exact opposite of what you want me to actually do, and…”

After a second of silence, Martin said, “I need to work on that. I have to be more vocal too. But, Jon, nowhere in that did you mention what you want.”

Jon turned back to look at him, and saw that Martin’s expression was creased. With a mix of - sadness, frustration, conviction, dedication. Imagine being that dedicated, about anything. “Nothing about me minded this time,” Jon said, flabbergasted. “I liked it. I like playing, I like making you feel good, I like winning.” Martin opened his mouth, and Jon quickly said, “Don’t pretend that socialization isn’t a game that everyone is always trying to win, you liar.”

Martin shut his mouth. He could not deny it. Finally, he said, “I hate how you have to say this time.”

He couldn’t help it - he cringed, very hard. Terrible memory. Terrible, terrible, terrible - “I don’t want you to touch me the rest of tonight,” he said, in one rushed breath. Georgie told him to say it. Georgie, Melanie, and Martin. He was supposed to say this. 

“Of course, no problem,” Martin said, quickly yet calmly. “Was there anything in that I shouldn’t bring up again?”

“That never happened,” Jon said, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “Stop bringing it up, it’s over, I’m fine - I’m going to bed!”

Hilariously, it was Martin’s flat, but Jon needed to dramatically retreat, so he ended up claiming Martin’s bed for his own. He was very aware that Martin would grab the couch for tonight, because Jon had asked him to. So he was left shoving himself into the pyjamas that he left at Martin’s, wrapping his hair, and sliding under the covers. 

But he wasn’t really tired. Jon’s mind kept churning and churning, trying desperately to tease out his own feelings, before realizing that he really didn’t want to know.

It was a really good conversation. Jon was glad that they had it - that Martin hadn’t gone along with it if he wasn’t comfortable, that he had actually pointed out where Jon crossed a line. Nothing about it was bad. Everything was a work in progress - Jon and Martin most of all. 

So much of them clashed. So much of them cared about each other more than the clashing. They ran up against these things incessantly, and Jon felt as if they worked it out every time. 

He would definitely make Martin breakfast tomorrow. Lots of bacon, although Jon never ate the stuff. He would have to clarify that the way this ended - it wasn’t Martin’s fault, not really. He would probably also have to clarify that his random terror wasn’t something that was any of Martin’s business. He was the one person Jon didn’t want to talk it over with, actually. 

Martin respected Jon a lot. More than Jon thought was rational, considering...himself. He never vocalized what exactly he wanted, because he respected that it was never in consideration. Jon had even seen him want it less and less - it barely even came up anymore. Except, of course, when Jon teased on purpose…

When Jon teased on purpose and didn’t tell Martin that he didn’t want something so then he made himself -

It was a good conversation, except Jon ruined it because something stupid that didn’t mean anything at all sent him into abject shame and terror.

This was so hard. Jon hated thinking this much. He decided to fall asleep instead. Much simpler.

In dreams, where everything was an illusion and nothing meant anything at all, nobody minded that none of it was real. 

*

Tim: omfg im so fucking hungoverrrr I hate being 34

Tim: good time last night tho

Tim: also like it WAS funny but you know we like you best as you, rite? U normally dont so Ill validate: liking you best as you, always

*

Sasha: THE DOCUMENTS, JON!!! 

Sasha: Tim says you might have gotten the wrong impression from last night so I’ll also validate: all of you is good. Even the bad parts are good. Does that make sense?

Sasha: Tim said that that sounded ‘backhanded’ but you know what I mean

Sasha: Man why is it so hard to just say what I mean!!! 

Sasha: Life’s stupid. Tell Martin I said hi. 

[r0sebutch]

169 hurt me very bad so here is more tma is an office comedy where no one dies compilation

they do office parties for the dumbest shit

like. valentines day? never heard of her. i think you mean international watermelon day.

tim, melanie, and sasha organize these parties. jon does not approve the budget for them so sasha forges his signature or does cybercrime to take money from elias

jon walks into work on any regular holiday expecting even more extravagance than they put on for dumb fake holidays and instead he gets nothing. the office is wholly undecorated

and then the next day he walks in and his desk has been fully wrapped in streamers for national streamers day

hes sure tim sasha and melanie are just making these up by now. no way is national “national day” day a real holiday. no fucking way.

on national martin day they spend the whole day appreciating martin, as they should. martin comes into work and tims like “HAPPY MARTIN DAY!!!” and martins like what

then it is sasha day, then melanie day, then tim day, then basira day no matter how much she protests about it being a waste of time

when jon walks into work on national jon day he looks at the banner Very Sternly and receives tim’s hug Very Sternly and then he goes to the bathroom to cry about how much he loves his friends for ten minutes and then he comes back out and returns to being Very Stern

georgie comes in to say hi to jon and melanie one day and tim and martin are like OH MY GOD YOURE GEORGIE BARKER HOLY SHIT CAN YOU SIGN MY MERCH

georgie is like “oh are you guys fans of the podcast? sure, let me grab a pen” and tim and martin are just geeking out abt her SO HARD

jon pops out of his office like “oh hey georgie” and tim and martin are like YOU KNOW HER??? YOURE ON A FIRST NAME BASIS WITH HER????? and jons like “i would hope so, seeing as we dated for quite a while”

melanie is like “ugh dont remind me. not sure what it says about me that georgie’s taste also includes you but i am Not A Fan”

martin’s inner monologue is just like “okay no need to freak out he used the past tense and melanie joked about them being together now no need to flip jon is probably single and he is almost certainly not dating the gorgeous insanely successful intimidating podcast lady calm urself”

& then he realizes everyones looking at him bc tim asked him a question but he didnt respond

so hes just like “...yes?” and tims like “how dare you not pay attention to me, your bestest of friends and sweetest and loyalest of coworkers” and collapses dramatically over the arm of his chair

the entities are still there but all their shit is just goofy sitcom shenanigans. jude perry burns a man alive and a laugh track plays followed by the audience going “juuuude” in an amused but scolding way

gerry is just the neighborhood goth who pops in to read and play with cursed items and relentlessly bully the staff. when they find leitner hiding in a supply closet he’s comically chased off screen by gerry, who inexplicably has a gun

exit, persued by ger(ry)

jon and martin speedrun a slowburn. jon spends two months hating martin for incompetence and then falls in love with him over the span of three days. theyre dating by a week later

the whole time jon “”hates”” martin, tim and sasha are doing matchmaker shenanigans. melanie normally LOVES office tomfoolery but she refuses to help jon get over his own obtuseness

basira refuses to help but she makes them tell her all the details. she also gets both jon and martin to talk to her about their feelings

shes the one who eventually gets jon to realize how he feels about martin, which makes her Very Proud

basira: archive of office gossip

tim orchestrates office movie nights, and then gets martin and jon to sit next to each other, and then gets jon to fall asleep on martin.

team high five, both because jon is sleeping and because jon is sleeping ON MARTIN

sasha takes an unwise number of pictures, and then sends them all to melanie who sends them all to georgie.

georgie makes a collage of them and texts it to jon the next day. the movie nights continue anyways.

[fateology]

witness my brain rot. tma raven cycle au but i haven’t looked at trc in many years so probably even more of a mess than it fundamentally is as a concept

martin blackwood as BLUE SARGENT

this is a pretty obvious choice since i casted jon as gansey already. fox way women include jane prentiss/annabelle cane/agnes montague, who all raised him as a spooky polycule. helen is there also opening doors in his bedroom when he needs boy advice (she is not to be trusted)

he is also the number one aglionbyphobe in town. comes very close to spitting on jon during their first meeting, which is a great coincidence, because jon, too, was dying to spit on him

they work it out though but only after many books of disdainful co-adventuring

his dad may or may not have been a tree

jonathan sims as RICHARD GANSEY

what is he looking for? glendower? jonah magnus’ corpse? probably jonah magnus’ corpse. when he was eight he nearly died after being attacked by i dunno a very large owl but he heard A Voice and survived. now he will not stop until he finds that buried old shithead

picks up friends like they’re fun rings. he’s not even that sociable so no one’s really sure how it happens

sits awake in monmouth every night with gerry/melanie and builds little cardboard panopticons that he sees in his dreams. why is he looking for the corpse of jonah magnus? unclear. he sure knows a lot about the man though

owner of a terrible horrible car that martin has definitely succeeded in spitting on at one point. the car is an extension of his soul so it was the next best thing

georgie barker as ADAM PARRISH

certain about this because georgie could so be an adam. aglionby is co-ed here so she can hate from within the club. the number two aglionbyphobe, she would be number one if not for the fact that she actually is in aglionby, which bumps her down one spot

begins a very intense rivalry/mutual interest with this other awful girl jon’s acquired as a friend aka wtgfs as pynch!

later on she gets psychic lessons from fox way ladies. scries in the aglionby girls toilet by plugging the sinks when she should be in latin class

(georgie, eyes black: WHAT DID MELANIE KING GET ON HER GATSBY ESSAY. AND WAS IT HIGHER THAN ME

cracks in the porcelain, rearranging: 89

georgie: FUCK)

melanie king as RONAN LYNCH

she is one half of two ronans because i split ronan into two parts. she’s ronan prime. the number three aglionbyphobe. rouser of tempers, flouter of school rules, breaker of nose bridges

she and jon are friends because she broke his nose in phys ed after he ran into her on accident

super into the other awful girl jon’s acquired as a friend, will not admit it even to herself. proceeds to have four books worth of angry dreams about it

drives her dead father’s swanky car around all the time because what is the raven cycle about if not driving your dead father’s swanky car around all the time. brotherless, except for gerry, who is basically her declan. they’re both greywarens and the worst kind of bffs

gerard keay as RONAN LYNCH, DOS, or DECLAN LYNCH, LITE

gerry is also a lynch sibling except that he’s both declan and ronan somehow

mary is niall and eric is aurora. instead of grieving for mary’s death gerry goes frolicking in the hills out of sheer joy (ABOUT TIME! and with a TIRE IRON no less! this is everything he’s dreamed of)

but also eric is dream-asleep except when he’s in the forest...what was it called...cabeswater. so not a full win. cabeswater was a keay/king team effort

anyway gerry greywaren indulgence 💖 he would do great with a raven on his shoulder. he was the one who brought jon to the nurse after melanie broke his nose, providing jon with the absolute coup of two awful new friends in one day. fast forward some months and gerry’s bunkbedding with melanie in monmouth

lots of gay rivalries (4 to be specific) and gay car races, which brings me to the next thing,

mike crew as JOSEPH KAVINSKY

except less of a douchebag and more of an asshole. primarily because the witch at the middle of the figurative bog of my prolonged tma brain rot is gerrymike. actually this would be tma dream thieves au if i’m being honest

lichtenberg figure = mike’s dream monster. mike does the counterfeiting thing mostly with rare books because he’s looking for something to exorcise the lichtenberg from his dreamscape.

that feeling when your family is rich as balls and you are functionally or genuinely an orphan and also you can manifest objects in your real life from your sleeping brain. nothing to be done about it except have some homosexual car races with your rival who happens to be sexy and a goth. once more, driving your dead father’s swanky car around all the time.

his dream pack includes jude perry/michael shelley/mikaele salesa except it’s not His dream pack because he doesn’t have the kavinsky ringleaderitis and they’re just weirdos who hang out together and occasionally do dream narcotics

sasha james as NOAH CZERNY

classic. the secretly been a ghost all this time! got #murdered years ago so she’s glad that her friends don’t seem to mind. everyone just thought she was like anemic or something.

depending on where you began the story it was about sasha james...was more when she was alive etc etc.

definitely was a skater. got beat to death with her skateboard by her best friend who was also quizzically named sasha

timothy stoker as HENRY CHENG

i don’t think i have to say much but yeah. he’s gerry’s fourth gay rivalry. wildly aglionby-popular which is honestly not something he should be proud of (he knows this)

constantly getting dunked on by all of jon’s friends but he can dunk back just as good which is a relief for him

embroiled in a mystic dynasty of his own thru his mom but way more well adjusted about it than gerry or melanie (they dunk on him to cope)

hobbies include toga parties and joining other peoples relationships (aka jonmartim as sarchengsey)

no real plot to all of it because i can’t figure out who’s who in terms of antagonists. all of them are jonah magnus wearing different people’s skins probably

[deniigi]

@puffins-studio is my Selkie Verse enabler.

We were chatting about where Mike would fit in the Selkie Verse and then this AU of an AU happened lol

Title: twin hearts twin coats

Summary: Mike’s an unruly little seal who wants nothing more than to give Jack high blood pressure and he is on a crusade not to make a single friend in Ireland. Unless they’re Matty’s friends. In which case, he needs to steal them.

Context: Matt and Mike are born as rare twin seal pups. This bit assumes that Mike was there for all of Whispering Seas but then fades out of view for a bit as he does his own thing until Matt gets his coat back.

-------

For as long as the two been walking, Jack had been missing a twin.

Usually, it was Mike.

Usually, Mike was trying to sink his sharp little teeth into something he knew Dad did not want him too.

Usually, whatever he was trying to swallow whole would result in a call to poison control and Jack would be on the line for half an hour, reading through ingredients with a patient but stern woman while Mike beamed up at him, proud of his latest accomplishments.

After Matt’s year of hell with foster care, however, Mike had been traumatized. And had taken to keeping Matt within sight at all times.

You would have thought that that would have prevented Mike from being the missing twin these days.

But no.

No, now Jack wasn’t missing one twin.

He was missing two.

Constantly.

Both of his children were un-findable at practically all times.

Grace did not have these problem with the boys. Grace simply made a sound in her throat that Mike called back to immediately, regardless of where he was.

Jack did not have this power.

Over Mike, anyways. Jack had more power over Matty because Matty had a deep-ingrained instinct to only want Daddy when he was upset. But that shit didn’t exactly have range, now did it?

Grace told him he should simply learn how to make the throat-noise, which was easy for her to say: as if Jack could make seal noises.

Jack could barely speak a form of English that folks around here understood. He wasn’t makin’ any damn seal noises. He’d just figure out how to find his kids, thanks.

He was good at it, anyways.

His boys were eight.

They were on the way to being geniuses and criminal masterminds, but they were not there yet, so Jack had a good 76% chance of finding them in the first place he looked.

The bathtub.

He always looked in the bathtub. And, like he said, 76% of the time, there they were. Both of them. Looking guilty as hell—big liquid seal eyes or not.

Matty usually got quiet and scared of punishment around then and would make sad tiny seal noises at Jack and let himself be hauled out of the water and rubbed down with a towel.

Matty was the good twin.

The extremely traumatized twin. Jack didn’t like to think too much about how compliant he became in the face of a stern tone. It was enough that he was home again and that he was healing. Slowly. Very shyly.

It was enough. Matty was allowed to be a little fragile.

Now Michael had no shame and, true to character over the last eight years, refused to feel anything about his disobedience but ‘caught.’

Jack loved Mikey, the little shit, with his whole heart, but that big smile and those baby blues did not work on him anymore.

Up you go, monster-child. And into towel-hell—yeah, yeah, whine all you want. Look how nicely your brother did it.

As soon as towel-hell was over, Mike went tearing out of the bathroom, turning back only to hiss at Jack and then run into the door. Jack watched him vanish out of sight and then sighed. Matty pawed at his side, making those little throat-sounds.

“You’re okay, baby,” Jack said. “No one’s in trouble.”

Matt clung to him and hid his face in Jack’s belly.

Really, he was the one who should have been trouble. He was the one who Jack should have been chasing after to grab the hand of—to be keeping a constant vigilance over to prevent him from falling off cliffs and getting too far out into the surf.

But no.

That would be Mike.

That would always be Mike.

A pot banged and clattered in the kitchen.

Matt covered his ears and made even more urgent sad chirps.

Jack sighed harder.

“Come on, let’s go make lunch before your brother destroys the whole lighthouse,” he said.

 ----

 Matty had Foggy and thank fuck he had Foggy because that gave Jack time to go pry Michael out of whatever deathtrap he threw himself into after school.

Jack didn’t understand what this kid wanted from all the dark places he crawled into.

Was it adventure?

Was it the bugs?

Was he trying to fish?

Mike was more seal-like than Matt. Grace noted this with approval. He jumped into the water and swam deep and ate fish whole and let Mags groom him with minimal fuss while Matt wailed and whined like all those things were a death sentence.

He was simply more human, Grace said. The seal behavior didn’t come as naturally to him, so he was resistant.

Jack thought it was more like Matty had enough sense in him to not want to be suffocated by pelts and people prodding and prodding and dragging his fuzzy little coat this way and that.

Matty was a sensible child.

Foggy was slightly less sensible, but he had the right spirit. He was a good friend for Matty.

Mikey refused to make friends.

“They’re boring and human,” he told Jack. “I want a friend with more style.”

Mikey was a New Yorker through and fuckin’ through and he talked like a fuckin’ Newsie no matter how hard Jack tried to get him to imitate his mama’s cadence.

That accent would serve him no decent purpose when he was older, whereas something more Irish would at least make him come off as friendly. Jack knew—boy, Jack knew.

“Why don’t you try making friends with Foggy, too?” Jack offered, once the Trouble Twin had been dumped in the boat. Mike popped up and immediately tried to jump ship. Jack pushed the boat further away from the dock with his foot and got a face of pure betrayal.

“I don’t want a friend like him,” Mike snapped. “He’s gooey. I ain’t got time for some fruit snack.”

For fuck’s sake, child.

“Just because Foggy doesn’t wanna steal footballs with you, doesn’t mean he’s not a good friend,” Jack said. “He don’t like the church, Mikey. It’s not you, it’s the church, son. I told you this a thousand times.”

“If he’s scared of the church, he’s gonna be scared of shenanigans, Dad,” Mike said. “I live for shenanigans. No, we just ain’t compatible, Father.”

For.

Fuck’s.

Sake.

Jack wasn’t letting this one watch any more tv. No more Guys & Dolls. It was bad for everyone.

“Michael,” Jack said.

“Jonathan,” Mike shot back, haughty as hell with his arms crossed and back straight as a board.

“Son, you need to make friends,” Jack said.

“I got loads of friends at home,” Mike said. “And we’ll be home in no time. I don’t need any more ‘til then.”

Mike hated Ireland.

Jack could not understand this.

There were rocks to climb and there was sand to dig in, there were clams to bang against each other, bricks to throw, a local witch to antagonize—this was Mikey paradise. Or it should have been.

But no.

Mike had learned the word ‘cosmopolitan’ and, even though he thought it meant ‘good enough to be in a magazine,’ he’d declared Ireland not that and had set out on a crusade against being happy with it.

Grace said he was too much of a city boy was all. She said that he’d realize after some time that he was lonely and he’d do what he’d always do, which was charm half the girls at his school and become a popular kid within days.

It had been months now, though, and Mikey was still refusing to budge.

It was exhausting.

“Boy, you’re givin’ me heartburn,” Jack told him.

“Well, you’re givin’ me Lupus,” Mike said.

God.

No more House either.

 ---

 Matty came home around four thirty, which Jack could tell made Mike green with jealousy. Mike wanted to stay out like him, but he didn’t want to be associated with Foggy or his sister.

They weren’t cool enough, apparently. Or tough enough.

Jack didn’t know what that meant. Foggy had helped them relocate Mike’s brother. That was plenty bad-ass to Jack, but what the fuck did he know about kids?

Clearly nothing, since Mike had outsmarted him again and somehow managed to watch a whole three Emergency Vets reruns while he wasn’t looking.

This child wanted to give himself nightmares.

“What did you and Foggy do, hm?” Mike nagged as Matt struggled with his shoelaces. Matt sat down to go at them better and Mike flopped down next to him.

“Hm?” he pressed.

“Made homes for ants,” Matt said. “They live in hills. So we made some for them. Put leaves on top to make sure they stay dry ‘nd stuff, you know?”

No. Mike did not know.

“Ants bite you,” Mike said.

“Only if you’re mean,” Matt said.

“No, they got grains of sand for brains,” Mike said. “They’ll bite you.”

“Well, they got a home now, bitey or no,” Matt said.

“Hey, let’s make a cave—”

“I want a snack.”

“Cave then snack.”

Matt tried to work through that order of events and Jack sighed before he agreed.

“Boys,” he said. “Close the front door. It’s gonna storm. No caves for now.”

Mike turned back to him mutinously.

 ---

 After an hour of shooing the babes away from windows and then telling them that it was time to settle down and do indoor activities or listen to a book on tape, the house had gotten quiet.

That was trouble.

Jack put a lid on the pot on the stove and began the Hunt.

The kids were not in the tub. They were in their room.

They’d made a blanket fort.

It wasn’t a good one—they didn’t have that many blankets, but they had some pillows and Mike had a flashlight. They’d cuddled up in the middle of the room with a pile of pillows from the couch and the spare duvet and were nestled up against each other in their coats.

Mike hissed when Jack parted the sheet curtain they’d gerry-rigged around the perimeter of the nest. Matty turned his way and made a happy throat-sound.

“You two getting into trouble?” Jack asked, folding himself into a pretzel to join them on the duvet. Matt immediately wriggled up to climb into his lap, which Mike scowled at.

Mike was of the opinion that this was ‘baby’ behavior. He was highly concerned that his sibling was still exhibiting it, as if Mike didn’t immediately bury himself into Grace’s side when she came up to take the two of them out for a swim.

Jack pulled Matt into his arms more comfortably and reached over to snag his coat to drop over him.

“Are we telling ghost stories?” he asked the boys.

Matt said yes. Mike told him they weren’t ‘doin’ nothin’’ which meant ‘yes, I am trying to give my brother dreams about banshees again and your presence is destroying all of my hopes and life goals.’

“I have a ghost story,” Jack told them.

“Lana’s not dead, Dad,” Mike said. “You can’t tell ghost stories about ladies who aren’t dead.”

“You ain’t gotta be dead to haunt stuff, son,” Jack told him. “Lana will haunt the blue apartment long after we’re all gone.”

“Nuh-uh,” Mike said. “Me and Matty are gonna live forever. Selkies live for hundreds of years.”

Oh really, now?

“Come here, oh ancient one, then,” Jack said, holding out a hand. “Come indulge a poor, aging human.”

Mike huffed but allowed himself and his coat to be dragged over to join Matty in Jack’s lap.

“A long, long time ago,” Jack told them, “There was a guy trying to raise two squirmy little kids.”

Mike rolled his eyes by rolling his whole head into Matt’s so that he’d giggle.

“Was he a boxer, Dad?” Mike asked.

No, oldest child.

He was a lighthouseman.

Mike sighed harder than ever.

Damn, everyone’s a critic, huh?

“One day, the lighthouseman’s two squirmy kids went out to play on the beach in a storm,” Jack said. “They transformed into seals. But the sea was strong and the tide rose high and it swept them away from shore. They went all the way out to sea, far from their home. And they were lost and scared. But soon they decided that being scared wasn’t any help anymore, and they picked a direction to swim for shore. They went from island to island, asking the people there if they’d seen the lighthouseman because the kids were worried you know? Because their old man was just human, unlike them, and the sea back home had been so strong and the tide so high that it might have crashed against the lighthouse and taken the lighthouseman away. But no one had even heard of a such a guy.”

Matt dug fingers into his sleeve and made a soft distressed sound.

“One day,” Jack said, kissing the top of his head. “The kids came across a load of swans in the middle of the ocean. So they asked the swans, ‘have you seen our dad? He’s kinda tall with a busted up nose.’ And they said, ‘no, we lost our dad, too. Maybe we can help each other find them?’”

“Did they?” Mike asked reluctantly.

“Of course they did,” Jack said. “The swans were secretly the children of Lir. They knew what it was like to be separated from their father, but, unlike those kids, they knew their father wouldn’t recognize them. So they flew up and the kids swam after them all the way back to Ireland, so that they wouldn’t end up like the Children of Lir, waiting hundreds of years for their dad to bring them home.”

Matt did not like this story.

Matt had had plenty of bird people in his life. He wanted no more. He wrapped himself around Jack’s neck and made grumpy sounds to indicate that he was done with this whole story business.

Mike’s little brow stayed furrowed.

“You’d recognize us right away,” he said. “We wouldn’t be like the Children of Lir, Dad, first off, ‘cause we wouldn’t ever leave you by yourself. Second off, because Mum’s carryin’ your soul for forever, so even when you’re old and dead, we’ll still have ya. And third off, ‘cause you’re a hero. We could find you just by sniffin’.”

Matt made louder grumpy noises to remind everyone that he didn’t like this conversation.

Jack hummed and rubbed Matt’s back and used the other hand to smooth down Mike’s hair.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But that don’t mean that I don’t miss you guys while you’re paddlin’ around in the sea without me.”

“TUNA,” Matt snapped.

Jack was startled.

“Tuna?” he asked.

“I’m hungry,” Matt said. “Let’s eat tuna.”

“You hate tuna,” Mike reminded him. “I’m the one who likes tuna.”

“Well I hate tuna less than I hate stories,” Matt snapped. “So I wanna eat tuna.”

Ah.

Bless him.

Okay, tuna it was.

 ---

 Grace told Jack to stop telling the kids that he was going to die. She said it was making them cry out in the sea. She reminded him that she didn’t take the damn kids to the sea to cry. She took them to fish. And they were still both shit at fishing.

Jack apologized.

But he didn’t feel too bad.

The fae in the woods told him he didn’t have too much longer in human form. He didn’t want the boys to be surprised.

Lord knew that they’d already been surprised enough over the last few years.

 ---

 Mike decided that he wanted to learn how to sail and, in lieu of him finding children his age to play with, Jack set to teaching him how to row. It was a good start. Grace approved. She even went out and found a little tub with a set of oars for Mike to play around in.

He immediately nearly drowned by taking it out into the bay.

Jack set him on the other side of the sandbar by the lighthouse and he did better. He was closer to where Matt and Foggy liked to play too, so if something went wrong again, the other kids would start shouting.

After a whole afternoon of no shouting, Jack went out to collect the munchkins and found Foggy out in the bay chatting with Mike with hands on the edge of the tub.

That was surprising.

What was not was the fact that Matt and Candace were digging a fuckin’ hole in the sand. Again.

Foggy must have gotten bored of them.

Jack watched as Mike took ahold of his wrist and heaved hard and brought Fogs over the end of the little tub. They both tumbled down into it.

Then Foggy popped up and leapt right back out into the water. Mike nearly followed him, shaking his oar after him.

Jack couldn’t help but snicker. He left them to it for another ten minutes before calling the boys in.

 ---

 It was hilarious.

It was adorable.

It was the cutest fucking thing Jack had ever heard, indignant as Matty was, standing on his toes, all puffed up and agitated.

“Mikey’s got a crush on Foggy and he won’t clear off,” he’d told Jack.

He didn’t appreciate Jack’s giggling.

“Foggy’s my friend,” Matt told him. “Mike can play with Candace.”

Uh-huh.

Sure, son. That was gonna go down real well.

“Daddy.”

Jack forced himself to stop laughing. He cleared his throat.

“That’s not how these things work, bud,” he said. “Why don’t you talk it over with Mikey?”

“I did,” Matt said. “An’ he told me to bug off.”

Ah, you poor child.

That was older brothers for you. Jack knew the feeling intimately.

“He’s rude,” Matt complained. “An’ he’s stealin’ my friends. He’s already stolen my identity, Dad. Tell him to stop.”

It would never not be funny that these kids thought that people confused them out of spite.

“You can both be friends with Foggy,” Jack told him. “Unless Foggy only wants to be friends with one of you.”

Matt puffed up and then deflated.

“Mikey’s got loads of friends at home,” he mumbled. “Why do I gotta share my one friend when he doesn’t share any of his?”

Oh, baby. No, it wasn’t like that.

It was just that Mike was outgoing, that was all. He just had that special knack for being around people. Jack didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, both he and Grace were not people-people. Matty was the natural extension of their mutual social awkwardness. Mike was more like Jack’s own brothers, actually. Smooth, suave, and oh-so likable.

Dangerous shit, that was.

He would be unstoppable after 14 years old.

“Here, come here, you,” Jack said. “Having friends isn’t about the number of ‘em. It’s about having fun. You have fun with your brother all the time, don’t you? And Foggy brings Candace along with you two all the time. Why don’t you guys try to be friends as a group of four, huh?”

Matt didn’t love this idea, but he relented.

“Only if Mike stops tryin’ to be a pirate,” he said. “He keeps hittin’ me with that stick.”

Ah. Okay. Well, that Jack could do something about.

 ---

 “But I am a pirate, Dad. I’m stealin’ Matty’s friends.”

For.

Fuck’s.

Sake.

Jack could not with this boy. He simply could not.

“Son,” he said. Then paused.

No. Mike wouldn’t hear anything he said.

This was a job for Grace.

 ---

 “Is that what Jesus would do?” Grace snapped.

Mike sulked.

“No, Mum,” he groaned.

“Then why’re you doing it to your brother?” Grace demanded.

“Cain didn’t like his brother,” Mike mumbled.

“Michael. You are named for a saint.”

Mike groaned with his whole body somehow.

“I’m sorry God,” he said.

Grace vibrated.

Jack didn’t know who to protect here.

“I just wanna be a pirate,” Mike explained. “And pirates steal things. They gotta, Mum. It’s how they make a livin’.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed.

 ---

 Grace did this occasionally.

She kidnapped one of the twins for some personal time with them. Jack was grateful for it because that twin was usually Mike and he usually came back looking guilty as hell.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t love his kid. It was just that Mike didn’t really show much regard for his authority.

Affection? Oh, sure. Both boys wanted nothing more than to show Jack everything they’d ever done or made. They wanted to be cuddled and tossed around and tickled. It had been ages before they understood why Dad didn’t come out swimming with them anymore—they couldn’t show him their cool seal tricks that way.

But authority? For Mike?

Nope. This kid was on the path towards trouble, and he’d probably already be there if his mama didn’t routinely take him under her flipper and remind him that he needed to think about other peoples’ feelings.

Matty, of course, had decided early on that personal time with Mum was a punishment, however.

When Jack came home without Mike, in full awareness that Mags was probably just gonna throw him in the water and tire him out until he was pliable and open to suggestion, Matt sniffed all around him and came up in tears.

It took a good ten minutes to convince him that Mike would be coming home.

What helped were some cheerios and letting Matt smell the tuna that was to go into the tuna salad sandwich that his brother was currently obsessed with. Jack reminded him that he wouldn’t be making two different kinds of sandwiches for dinner if there wasn’t gonna be someone there to eat them.

Matt played with the dry cheerios in the bowl Jack had given him and quietly asked him if Mike would be mad if he learned that Matty wanted to be a human hero like Jack.

Jack’s heart melted.

Grace had told him that Matt had told her this. But Matty hadn’t said it to him directly and he sure as hell hadn’t told Mike.

That was fair—the second bit. Mike, like most other selkies, tended to see humans as replaceable things. Kinda boring. Kinda selfish. Not overly worth his investment unless they were investing in him.

Jack thought that Mike might change his tune if he realized that his twin thought humans were kind of grand.

Or maybe not. Who knew what Mike would think.

“I think that if you tell him, he might be really confused for a while,” Jack said.

Matt dropped his handful of cereal back into the bowl and squirmed all the way back in the chair.

“’M not hungry,” he said.

Aw.

It’s okay, little one. Things will get easier with time.

 ---

 Objectively speaking, it wasn’t long after that that Jack died.

It was what it was.

His kids were ten. They were safe. Mags tried to wrangle them.

Jack went to sleep.

Five years, he slept.

He woke up to Matty having a breakdown and Mike nowhere to be found and it was another three years before Jack managed to have enough awareness and mobility in the afterlife to get both of them to not fuckin’ do that shit.

Then it was another four years before Mike reappeared out of thin air and announced he was stayin’ in the city and where the fuck was his evil twin, which coincided with Matt showing back up from orientation at law school to shriek at Jack that Foggy was there! Foggy was back! Foggy was studying law with him and staying in his dorm and OH MY GOD, DAD, IT’S FOGGY.

Kid was love-fucking-sick.

Grace told him to watch his mouth. Matty didn’t know yet. They needed to let him figure it out on his own.

Jack thought that it had already taken Matty a good 16 years to realize that the reason he hated his brother crushing on Fogs was because he was crushing on Fogs. He was not the most self-aware of people. He deserved a little help.

Grace told him that he would speak to their younger son only upon pain of being stuffed into her flute.

Jack did not like the flute.

So he kept mum. But only in Matt’s presence.

This did not include Mike’s presence. Because Mike had other problems which looked like him trying to join a local mob, deciding that they weren’t cool enough for him, and then bouncing off to go join a pod of selkies, making enemies of all of the guys in it and then coming back to New York from a trip to Florida in the arms of a pixie who was actively trying to kill him in his sleep.

Mike was, predictably, a hot mess.

And he loved it.

God help this boy. He required all of Jack’s energy.

“Michael,” Jack reminded him exhaustedly when he stopped in the street as a gal with butterfly wings glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’ve got one at home and she’s mad enough to spit.”

“Uh-huh,” Mike said without listening.

This fucking kid.

“Hey, pops, why don’t you go be someone else’s angel for like, twenty seconds over there, huh?”

Hm. No, you’re right, what a great idea—AHAHA. No. Nice try. Jack wasn’t born yesterday.

It was his new purpose in death trying to keep this one on the straight and narrow. He’d been assigned the mission by a nun. It was now a holy quest.

“You can’t say that about everything Mom tells you to do,” Mike scowled.

He did not, however, pursue Ms. Butterfly wings.

“Where’s Matty, anyways? None of you will tell me where Matty is,” Mike pouted.

Matty was, according to Grace, being heartsick because Foggy had gone home for the holidays.

“Mass,” Jack said.

Mike rolled his eyes.

“I’m not goin’,” he said. “I’ve got a job, Dad. Tell Matt to get one, too.”

A job, huh?

What a job. Sluggin’ people on behalf of other humans.

“I can feel your disappointment and—oh, wait? It’s my life? I can do what I want? I am allowed to sustain myself with offerings however they come? Oh my god, Father. What sense you speak. You’ve turned over a new leaf, truly.”

This?

This was a Grace problem.

 ---

 Jack didn’t expect Matt to be the one who came home with a secret violent identity.

Then he didn’t expect Mike to be the one to break down Matt’s door and stand over him and ask him what the fuck he was thinking.

Then he didn’t expect Mike to be the one to bodily drag Matt out to sea in an attempt to bring him back to his roots.

Mike nearly drowned his brother.

It was certainly one way to get everyone back on the same page. Jack wasn’t about to lie and say it was the best way, but it was definitely a way.

Mike came to church and accused him and Grace of keeping Matt’s secrets from him. Not just the devil, but the coat situation and Foggy.

Mike was justifiably upset, but Grace pointed out that Mike’s current approach to humanity did not exactly jive with his brother’s existence, and not even Mike could argue with that. Although he did try. Let it be known that he tried.

He kept cutting himself off though, saying that Matt was different from other humans. Matt wasn’t like them. He was better than them. Which was exactly what Matt took issue with. And unfortunately for Mike, his brother had supersenses, and that included super hearing.

Grace asked Jack out to go calm Matty down.

He was pretty upset.

He tucked himself into Jack when Jack got to his hiding place on the roof of his loft and asked him why Jack had told Mike about the coat to begin with.

But Jack hadn’t told Mike about the coat. No one had. Mike found out these things on his own. He was clever like that.

“He’s always treated me different,” Matt said. “I thought it was ‘cause I’m blind, but it’s always been ‘cause I’m more human, hasn’t it?”

Horrible things to hear your kids say to each other.

Also untrue.

“Mike doesn’t treat you different because you’re blind or you’re human, bud,” Jack told him. “He treats you different because you’re his brother and he’s protective of you. That’s where this is coming from. It’s nothing you did.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Matt said.

Well, no.

It probably didn’t.

 ---

 Mike came around. And he came around by encountering the Hell’s Beast that little baby Franklin Nelson had become.

Foggy, to put it kindly, was one hell of a selkie.

He was huge, to start with. He’d grown from a chubby, pale little glow worm to a good three hundred pounds of enormous, white seal. He was staunchly traditional, if flexible, in his dealings with other fae, and he had zero patience for humanity while somehow acting entirely in their favor.

Foggy was a selkie in a textbook somewhere. He had to be. He was paranoid and untrusting of humans, but he would throw himself in the line of fire to protect anyone who he dealt with. And Mike, who’s relationship with humans tended to be more on the Trickster spectrum than the whole Noble Being one was a smidge intimidated.

At first.

Then he was violently jealous.

And let’s just play this record once more, shall we? Take it from the top.

He nagged Matt to bits, asking him to give up his bond with Fogs and to entrust his human soul to Mike.

We’re twins, Mike argued, it’s only right that I guard your soul.

Matt told him he’d lived his mortal life in plenty of dumpsters, thanks. He was looking for a change in the afterlife.

Mike told him he’d get him the nicest dumpster blood money could buy.

Matt told him to try to take the question to Fogs and see what would happen.

Mike took that to heart.

Grace asked Jack what they’d done wrong to end up with a stubborn devil-child and a vulture selkie.

Jack thought it was probably the tugboat.

Foggy, however, thought that it was the fact that Mike had zero impulse control, manners that only came out when he didn’t have the upper hand in a situation, no respect for boundaries, and shit fashion sense—not to mention a lack of interest in fae hierarchies, a fondness for antagonizing people, and, in Foggy’s opinion, a brain that didn’t properly register pain chemicals or empathy.

He told Mike that Matt’s soul was his and that if he wanted, he could fight him for it and Mike decided that that was a vow good enough for his little brother.

He switched tact and began trying to court Foggy instead and, to his credit, it sure as hell de-escalated the situation.

 ---

 Grace told Mike that Matt was going to get his coat back, but they didn’t hear from him. Jack wasn’t sure what to do, but Grace said that they didn’t have time to wait.

When they got home and Matty was trying to relearn how to swim and struggling like a zebra on a tightrope despite having both Grace and Fogs there to keep him from sinking, Mike reappeared in a pew at the church.

Jack found him and settled in next to him.

Mike asked him if Matty was okay.

He’d gotten the message only a few days ago. His hands were a little shaky when Jack smoothed his hair back and told him that he was just fine.

And not only was he fine. But he was very recognizable now. Or he should be, to Mike more than anyone else in the world.

Mike asked if Matt was still angry with him. If Foggy was still hellbent on chasing him off.

Jack thought that maybe, what Matty really needed right then wasn’t his mama or his bondmate, but his brother. His twin.

It had been a long time since Mike wanted a hug.

He told Jack that he was sorry for being a dick all these years.

Jack told him that he wasn’t a dick. He was fiercely independent and even if Jack didn’t always agree with him, he was still proud of him and proud of that drive and that passion.

He asked him if he was ready to go make up with his brother and Mike nodded instead of saying yes out loud.

 ---

 Matty’s new coat was white for the time being and Mike would not and could not drop that. He cooed at Matt and told him he was too fluffy to swim. Grace had to break them up before they got to neck-slamming.

But at the end of the day, Mikey was right.

Matt’s new coat was a baby’s coat. And Matt was a good 14 years out of swimming practice. His muscles had forgotten how to work as a seal. He was angry about it, which was endearing, but not especially helpful.

He explained to Mike that he’d made a deal with Fisk and Mike went dead quiet before exploding at him and once they’d mutually worked through that argument, the intensity of the swimming lessons rocketed up. Grace stood back and pulled Foggy back with her and they watched on as Mike harassed Matty back into fighting shape.

After the third night of Matt’s refresher course, Jack went to go check on them and found them piled together in their coats on Matt’s couch.

You couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended and to Jack, it felt like home.

He found threw a blanket over them both and took the time to kiss both foreheads before turning off the light and letting the purples and pinks of the billboard outside wash over them.

It was its own kind of rippling sea.

---

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Slides and Serendipity

Part Three (4.3k)

Part One   Part Two

AN: Here comes part three. Are you happy with the lengths of the chapters or do you think I should split them up into smaller parts? Feedback is appreciated as always and enjoy

Warnings: Language because Tyler is Tyler

The next morning I woke up with a pounding head. Even chugging water before going to sleep had not helped to prevent the hangover that was now haunting me. I didn’t even want to imagine how Tyler felt as he’d had way more to drink than I did but least he had the day off. 

A cold shower and changing into a comfortable outfit made things better but I still would’ve loved to stay in bed all day.

Yogi didn’t care about my headache of course and wanted attention as soon as I stumbled into the living room downstairs. After throwing his favorite ball a few times in the backyard I could at least convince him to come cuddling with me on the sofa. 

At that point my mind went back to the previous night and the way Tyler had looked at me all evening. On a whim I pulled my phone out to shoot a text to Tyler.

Me: Are you up yet?

I didn’t have to wait long until he sent back a picture of himself buried under Gerry on the couch, similar to my own position. Even sleepy he looked hot as hell, which was definitely not fair to everyone else on this planet.

Tyler: Barely.. My headache is so bad I didn’t even manage to make breakfast yet

I hadn’t gotten that far yet either so I suggested making breakfast together, mostly because I was too lazy to do all the work by myself and also because even though I had only seen him a couple of hours ago, I wouldn’t mind looking at this fine male specimen again.

I wasn’t really in the mood for walking and I definitely shouldn’t be driving in my stage so I decided on the easiest option, putting on roller skates and having Yogi pull me over to Tyler’s house. Perks of having a Husky mix. We had done this a couple of times over the last month and each time I had to do less work in my skates. Yogi was growing up so fast and his genes made him the perfect partner for stuff like this, in a couple of weeks I could probably stop skating altogether and only yell directions.

Tyler waited for me at the front gate to his house and started laughing as soon as he saw Yogi dragging me across the street. He opened the iron gates and then filmed us as Yogi kept running to his front door.

“Before you accuse me of anything, he loves this!”, I yelled over my shoulder as we passed him but I had to laugh as well. I knew we probably looked ridiculous but at least it was great exercise for the dog.

“Do you think I could get one of mine to do this with me?”, Tyler asked as I took of the skates in his doorway, letting Yogi off the leash.

“No way. Cash and Marshall are too lazy and with Gerry you’d end up flat on your ass in five seconds. One squirrel is all it’d take to ruin your day but you’re welcome to come with us sometime. I think you’re too heavy for him to pull though, he can barely do me.”

His pout made me laugh, which kind of didn’t make my headache any more enjoyable but he knew there was absolutely no way Yogi could pull him the way he’d just pulled me.

“You make it sound like I’m fat, this is all muscle baby”, Tyler joked, pulling up the hem of his shirt and flexing. I already knew that he was definitely anything but fat from feeling him up the day before, but I wasn’t going to turn down or interrupt the show he was currently giving me so I kept giving him unimpressed looks.

“You still probably weigh twice as much as I do so that’s too much for Yogi but I could probably do it, it’ll be a great workout for me”

With the way his face lit up at my idea nobody would have been able to guess that this guy probably spent half his life skating around and actually enjoying it, no matter if on or off the ice.

“I’ll definitely take you up on that but let’s do that sometime when I don’t feel like there’s a techno rave going on inside my head”

With that we moved on to the kitchen and Tyler put on some music as background noise for our cooking. Yogi was outside, happily chasing Tyler’s dogs around and taking full advantage of the pool. Rifling through his fridge I pulled out some fruits for smoothies and to snack while he prepared everything for ‘The Best Hangover Breakfast’, aka grilled cheese sandwiches. I was cutting up some watermelon and humming along to the music when Tyler spoke up.

“My friends and teammates have all been texting me nonstop about you, they probably like you better than me already”

His comment made me smile but I was unsure what to respond for a moment. As much as I enjoyed my time with him, I knew what everyone else said about him and it was stuff like this that could cause lots of problems for me in the future if I wasn’t careful.

“That’s because I’m way nicer than you are but they’ll probably never let us play beer pong together again”, I deflected, desperately trying to keep things at a platonic level where I felt comfortable.

“How are you so good at that by the way? I didn’t really peg MIT students as the type of people who would be good at frat party games”

“You’d be surprised really, you’re constantly under so much pressure that you need a way of blowing off some steam and smart people usually have the dumbest ideas. In my junior year for example we were throwing a party in our dorm and calculated the exact number of toilets we needed to flush in order to break the plumbing system. We didn’t really think far ahead though, because we had to use the showers and toilets in other dorms for over a week after that”, I told him and he burst out in a giggle that would have most sorority girls proud, gripping the counter so he wouldn’t fall over. His ridiculous laugh was so infectious that I had to laugh as well, still immensely fond of all the crazy things that had happened during college.

“Sometimes I wish I could’ve gone to college as well, from what I’ve heard most people have a blast there and I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot”, he told me after he’d calmed down, now turned around so he could look me in the eyes.

“I don’t know about that, you kinda got the best of both worlds. You didn’t have daily mental breakdowns during exam season and still got to attend frat parties and stuff. You also get to do something you love for a living, so your life doesn’t look too bad if you ask me”, I responded softly, getting the feeling that he truly did feel like he’d simply skipped over an important part in life. He smiled at me and we dropped the topic, instead continuing a more lighthearted conversation and taking our breakfast outside.

“I’m going to miss having all this time to myself soon. I still have two more weeks until my self-imposed deadline but I need to start buying stuff for my office and take care of all these other things”, I sighed, leaning back on my chair and closing my eyes to shut out the sun. I looked forward to being productive again, but I also really loved doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.

“I get what you mean. I have all those workouts and practice still but it’s nothing compared to when the season starts, especially when we want to make the playoffs again. I love hockey and I can’t wait to play again but it’s just a lot sometimes”, Tyler responded and I nodded understandingly.

“For you it’s worse because you’re in the spotlight all the time. If I fuck up that’s on me and reflects only on myself and maybe the people that I’m working with. People blame you for things you have no control over most of the time and get mad all the time”

He nodded and was quiet for a while after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. We were simply both lost in our thoughts but still enjoying each other’s presence. Eventually the pounding in my head subsided and Tyler must have felt better as well because he offered to show me around the house.

I was wrong about the waterslide into his pool being as extra as one could get because I hadn’t noticed the small lake with a goddamn fountain and private tennis court the day before.

“We’ll have to play sometime, I’ll wipe the floor with you”, I said after he told me that he didn’t really play that much. It was a mystery to me why he would need a private court in that case but that’s athletes, I guess. I wasn’t even that good myself but I was determined to beat him. He promised to end me in basketball in turn and he was probably right, because that sport had for obvious reasons, mostly my height and tiny hands, never been my forte.

The way he was proudly showing me all of his hockey related belongings was incredibly endearing and his comments were super cute. It was clear that he loved the game and that nothing could stop this passion and I admired him for it.

Quite a while later I made my way back to my house, Yogi almost not wanting to get out of the humongous pool. Once I had the roller skates back on, I got in the mood for it and for the next hour we casually continued skating around, although this time I didn’t let him do all the work. I really needed to stop slacking and look up nearby gyms soon or I could kiss all of my hard work on my body goodbye.

The rest of my Saturday afternoon was spent texting Katie about lunch and in front of my tablet, facetiming the girls so I could relay the events of the day before. Safe to say there was constant screaming, squealing and lots of questions being shot at me. Lisa was incredibly pleased with herself because her plan of getting Tyler’s attention had worked but Emily was worried that it had worked a little too well while Mara kept saying that I was living her dream.

“You need to tone it down a bit, I think. You said you didn’t want to risk your friendship through sleeping with him right now, so you need to make sure that things don’t get this heated again or you’re going to get hurt”, she said softly and I knew she had a point. Keeping my hands off of Tyler for now would be the only way to avoid unnecessary drama. I knew his type and while I usually didn’t mind hookups, famous athletes weren’t the best choice in that department.

“From what you’ve told he sounds incredibly sweet but don’t forget that that could all be an act to get you to sleep with him. Don’t shut him out completely though, just kinda slowly test the waters but stay in the shallow part if you know what I’m getting at”, Mara threw in and started wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew what she meant but I also didn’t know if I wanted an explicit explanation on what she considered the shallow part to be exactly.

“And if you really need to get laid to get it out of your system, I have some people in your area I can hook you up with, literally”, Lisa threw in and if there wasn’t a screen between us, I’d have smacked her across the head.

I decided to not have a lazy Sunday for once, as I’d literally had lazy days for almost two weeks straight. Instead I grabbed measuring tape and walked into the second living room, soon to be my office. For the next three hours I was busy measuring everything and slowly putting together a plan on my tablet while also cursing the US customary system of units. I had lived the last seven years in the US and while I had gotten used to the seemingly random numbers over time, I was still convinced that it was only implemented to fuck with people.

The room was thankfully big enough to fit a medium-sized conference table that I’d need and my own desk without feeling crowded. The big windows weren’t optimal because of the computer screens, but they were facing north at least. They would also help to not make this room look like a bunker once I finally had everything I needed.

Happy with the work I had done I finally relaxed on my couch with Yogi curled up on top of me. I was full on prepared to spend the rest of my day with him like this, but Tyler had other plans. We’d only met half a week ago and seen each other every day since, mostly out of his initiative and today would apparently be no different. He asked me if I wanted to watch some movies ‘with the children’ and I invited him over to my place along with the dogs.

Ten minutes later he was standing at my door in shorts and a deliciously tight t shirt, the dogs excitedly circling his legs before greeting me enthusiastically. Afterwards I leaned up to hug him while he joked that I only liked him for the dogs.

“It’s a big part I’m not gonna lie”, I teased and ushered him inside where our children were already running around and playing with each other. They got along so well and it was a very cute sight to see.

“Your place looks really beautiful by the way, you have a great taste for this stuff”, he commented, picking up a throw pillow from the couch to inspect it further. It wasn’t the first time he’d been to my house, but last time he had only really focused on the kitchen because we were both really hungry.

I took him on a little tour around the house and pointed out different things along the way while we updated each other on any possible news.

“This is going to be the office but it doesn’t look like much right now, I have to go and buy all of the stuff that I need sometime this week so don’t judge me”

“I’m not judging but if you need some help I can come with you. I think I have a noon practice when you’re getting lunch with the girls so you can come with them to the arena after and I can take you”, he offered and I mentally had a slack jaw out of surprise. This was nothing like the Tyler that was always portrayed in the media, but I wasn’t sure if it was an act like Mara said or if he was being genuine. I needed to be careful but at the same time I really wanted to figure out why he bothered being so nice with me.

The dogs were following us around of course and I picked up Yogi and carried him upstairs, explaining to Tyler that he was scared of stairs for some reason. He insisted on getting to carry Yogi back downstairs because he thought it was cute. We also kept stopping because he asked me all kinds of questions and demanded stories to most pictures so by the time we finished the tour my stomach was already announcing that it was time for dinner.

“What do you want to eat?”, I asked him once we were back in my kitchen.

“Don’t tell on me but I’ve been craving pizza all day”, he responded and I laughed because he might be 27 but from what I’ve learned so far he’d have the eating habits of a five year old if he could.

“Am I going to get you in trouble if I make us some?”, I asked, already mentally checking if I had all of the needed ingredients in the house.

“You’re going to make me pizza? I was actually thinking of just ordering some but now there’s no way I’m turning that down so it’s going to have to be our secret, I guess”

“I’m not going to make you pizza, we are going to make pizza for the both of us because I really think it’s about time you learn how to make anything besides grilled cheese”, I chided him on his terrible cooking skills. It was a mystery how he’d survived so long without barely any basic knowledge in the kitchen, but I was planning to change that from now on.

I was currently both enjoying and regretting that decision at the same time.

I leaned against the kitchen island next to Tyler, trying not to drool over the way his big hands were working on the dough. I could see his muscles working under that tight shirt and honestly kneading pizza dough should not be this sexy, but Tyler somehow made my thoughts go in directions that were anything but appropriate.

“Can you get my hair out of my face? There’s this one strand that just keeps fucking with me”, he cursed and I laughed, softly reaching up to help him out. He wasn’t wearing a snapback tonight and his hair was all over the place by now, which was kind of cute but also definitely kind of hot. At this point my body didn’t know how to react anymore.

I was taking pictures of him ‘to commemorate these first steps’ and while I couldn’t exactly post any on social media without causing a shitstorm, I sent some of them to the girls, making the groupchat explode with messages. Tyler made me film him and add it to his insta story so he could show off his new skill to the world

Gerry and Yogi joined us on the couch while we waited for the dough to rise. Cash was sprawled out on the floor and Marshall had made himself comfortable on Yogi’s bed. I let Tyler pick out a movie while trying to make myself comfortable next to him. He had one arm resting on the back of the couch and I gradually found myself snuggling closer as the time passed. I had just put my head down on his shoulder when my timer reminded me that we had food to attend to.

I showed Tyler how to properly roll it out and then let him take over. His first try was so terrible that I found myself documenting everything again but the second time around he was doing much better already. With some help from me we soon had two near perfectly round pieces of dough ready to be turned into deliciousness.

Tyler had called me an European pizza snob when I’d told him that I didn’t have any peperoni because I didn’t like the greasy fake taste of the sausage but he let me pick out substitutes for him to add instead. Soon the smell made waiting even harder and I couldn’t concentrate on the film anymore but Tyler rubbing circles on my back probably played a part in that as well.

“You might be a snob but you know how to make pizza like damn”, he exclaimed after taking the first bite and I smiled proudly. America had much to learn when it came to pizza and I was more than happy to broaden his horizon in that department.

“That’s why I try to avoid most Italian restaurants here, the food there doesn’t taste the way it’s supposed to and American lasagna is a disgrace to the Italian masterpiece “

“Like I said, snob”

Afterwards we were cuddled up on the couch again and Tyler let me pick out the next movie. I desperately tried to avoid anything with romance or sex in it because I wasn’t sure I could handle that with him so close to me right now. I was leaning against the armrest and this time Tyler was using my lap as a pillow. I tried to stop myself but eventually gave in and started to weave my hand through his hair, softly stroking his head.

He let out a low hum of pleasure and I couldn’t help the direction my thoughts were now going. This much sexual tension was not normal, was it?

“Now I know why my dogs like you so much, you give the best head scratches, especially with those long nails”, he said and I laughed softly, not knowing what to respond instead.

Halfway through the movie I fully lied down and Tyler put his head right below my boobs, wrapping an arm around my body. Now we were both fully reclined on my couch and he had to rest some of his weight on me so we could both fit but I didn’t mind. I kept my hand in his hair at first but eventually moved downwards, slowly and lightly raking my nails across his back the way I knew guys loved.

“Fuck, this feels so good”, he murmured against me and my mind went straight back to the gutter again. How could it not when he was saying stuff like that?!

By the end of the movie I was close to passing out and Tyler wasn’t any different. He slowly untangled himself from me and then called for his dogs, who had fallen asleep already. He thanked me for the pizza and everything else and then he was out the door, leaving me to fall into a peaceful slumber, my dreams filled with images of him.

On Monday a package arrived for me, even though I hadn’t ordered anything lately. I was suspicious to open it but was rewarded with a new pair of the Givenchy slides Gerry had ruined. There was even a note attached that read:

Still sorry that Gerry chewed on your shoes but I’m also happy I got to meet you because of that

-Tyler

The gesture was so sweet that I couldn’t stop smiling for the next couple of hours. I sent a picture of me wearing them to Tyler, thanking him for the present and another picture of the note to the girls, who were of course freaking out again.

The day after that Tyler texted me to see if I was up for an adventure after he finished his workout at noon, an invitation I’d never turn down.

Tyler: It’s not dog-friendly, but you’re going to love the aquarium here it’s awesome

He told me that one of his friends could watch the dogs, the same one who would sometimes watch them whenever he had to go on roadtrips during the season. He said that this way we wouldn’t have to rush through and could grab a bite to eat afterwards as well. His offer was hard to turn down, so I agreed and quickly showered before picking out a cute outfit and leaving to pick him up. It was time to get some more kilometers on my new car.

“Nice car, is that the SQ5?”, Tyler whistled as I parked in his driveway to let Yogi out, who immediately ran ahead to greet him.

“Get your facts straight dude, that’s the SQ8. I thought you were into cars?”, I teased and stood up un my tippy toes to hug him.

“I am but I never really got into Audis, although looking at that I might have to”, he responded grinning and I lightly swatted at his chest before walking inside where his friend was already waiting. I’d brought stuff for Yogi and made sure that he was comfortable before we said our goodbyes and left. We pulled out on the driveway and Tyler typed in the address of the aquarium.

I let him select one of his playlists and was surprised to hear Justin Bieber blasting through my speakers. This guy was truly unpredictable. It was quite the sight to see this 200-pound, burly and bearded guy loudly singing along and knowing all the words to ‘Love Yourself’ but the hilarity of it had me in tears soon enough. His song choices kept surprising me until we finally pulled into the parking lot. I locked the car and turned around to see Tyler looking at me as if he was trying to figure something out.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but how are you affording all of this? You live in our neighborhood, you wear 200$ slides to the dog park and you drive a car that I’m pretty sure costs well over 100 grand. Do you make this much from developing apps only or is there a side business that you haven’t told me about yet?”, he asked curiously and I mentally flinched.

I didn’t mind talking about money with Tyler per se, he was well off himself for all that mattered, but I always got embarrassed talking about my past. However, if I had to talk about the way I had made loads of money, I might as well do it with somebody who was racking in large sums as well. His life was crazy enough that he might understand me.

“Do you want the short answer or the full story?”

“The full story of course. I got all day baby”, he tried to lighten the mood and I had to laugh at the pet name.

“Consider this your heads up though, it gets kind of crazy at some points”, I warned, before starting at the beginning.

Part Four here

[murderdaddymayhem]

One Of The Clan - Otis Driftwood x Male Reader

 Synopsis: Otis comes out to the Firefly Family and tells them you're his boyfriend.

(Because who cares that they're a gross murder family, they're also really sweet with each other and super supportive so this is totally a thing, thanks)

Wanted to write more Otis x Male Reader for all you guys out there so here you go!! A cute emotional support fluff piece!!!!! (Also be warned there's like one mild slur but no homophobia or anything cause this fic is happiness only zone)

"How are you feeling?" you ask Otis, squeezing his hand. He looks over to you, sulking. 

"Like a million fuckin' bucks, thanks for asking." 

You shove him playfully, which turns into a dunking match. You finally see a smile clear up Otis' face, but it quickly disappears when he remembers what he's about to do. 

Otis met you about a year ago, at a bar somewhere outside town. He had quickly discovered that you were different from other people in the area, just like him, and instead of taking you back to the house to Chik-Fil-A you, he ended up kinda... sorta... liking you. 

You two had talked for hours, and he had felt more and more attracted to not only your appearance, but your personality. Otis was very selective about who he gave his time to, and you just turned out to be his favorite person to be around. Otis had brought you around the house a few times, and after a good few months of walking in on some form of anarchy, you had been accepted as a good friend of the family's. 

Of course there was one thing that presented itself as an obstacle (at least for Otis). He was adamant that guys just didn't do things like this around here, that if anybody saw you two together, god forbid in public, you'd be strung up on Dr. Satan's hanging tree. You had insisted you cared for him enough to brave all that, and he cared for you too, so you had kept your relationship under wraps. 

Until now. 

Otis had said something the other day to you on one of your long drives together in your pickup. (It was a favorite date activity of the two of you, other than coming along for a night of murder and mayhem, to drive for hours out into the Texan desert listening to old 70s music, philosophizing, and talking about life.) 

"What if my family doesn't want me around anymore if I tell em?"

You had turned off the engine, and sat there in the middle of the dusty plain, Gerry Rafferty's Right Down The Line playing on your beat up old car radio. 

"Tell them what?"

Otis had sat there for a long time. "Y'know, about... this whole thing." You had waited expectantly for him to elaborate, since your talk about using words. Otis had huffed, rolling his eyes. "Us, okay! The two of us." 

"I'm fairly certain that your family, who regularly chases people around in bunny onesies and holds ceremonial funerals for fun, wouldn't much care who you date or fuck."

Otis throws his head back against the seat. "Yeah but shit, this is different! They let me in, gave me a name I'm proud of, gave me a home. My own biological father used to beat me, call me less than shit, and all for..." He gestured to you and him. "For bein' me, I guess."

"It's fucked up," you say softly, taking his hand. 

"Yeah, you got that fuckin' right handsome." He had wiped his eyes. "And them back home... hell. It'd be close to testing their kindness to tell them I'm a queer at this point."

A silence enveloped you both as you switched the radio off.

"Why don't you try?" 

"They don't gotta know," Otis snapped, then looked at you, apology clearly written in his eyes. You had just nodded, used to his hurried responses. 

"What I mean is... if you're ready... you might feel better finding out if they really are there for you." 

He had looked at you, and you took off your shirt, handing it to him to dry his eyes. He used it, and tossed it back to you in a ball. You had laughed, and he had climbed on top of you in the driver's seat, sticking his knife in the seat recliner to make it flop down. 

"Mmf," you had complained, his lips smothering yours, "Thanks for breaking my seat." 

"Ain't nothing but nothing."

"Bu--"

"RJ can fix it," he had replied, before reaching down to your jeans. 

Now, four days after that night, he decided he was ready.

Mostly. 

Somewhat.

"You know, you don't have to do it today if you're not ready," you reassure him, but he takes your hand, grasping it tightly. 

"Damn it all to hell if I haven't spent all morning working myself up to this. I'm not lettin' that go to waste." 

With his usual headstrong determination, he walks through the front door of the house, past Baby's burnt doll collection. He walks on into the living room, where Mama's on the couch watching some show with Baby, Spaulding is in the kitchen, and Tiny is carving a pumpkin at the table.

"Otis, I love you honey, but get the hell outta the way," Mama says sweetly, "Svengoolie's on." 

"Fuck Svengoolie," Otis responds, and Tiny looks up from his work at the table, unsettled. Otis holds up a reassuring hand to him, and Baby finally looks away from the TV.

"Brought your friend?" She lets out a giggle, and waves to you. You haven't told Otis, but you're convinced Baby knows about you two already. 

"I've... got an announcement to make." Otis shifts around from foot to foot, still holding your hand. Seeing that Otis is serious, (and that he's holding your hand) Mama turns off the TV. 

"Who turned off the god damn television? I was watching that," Spaulding comes walking out of the kitchen, scratching his back with a wooden cooking spoon. "Oh. Hiya, you two." He scratches his head with the spoon, raising his painted clown eyebrows when he notices Otis has now got your hand in a deathgrip. "Somethin' we oughtta know, or can we keep watching the show?"

"Daddy, Otis is in love," Baby coos. 

"Hush now, angel, let Otis have his moment," Mama hushes, "Go on now, hun, tell us." Otis gives Baby the finger angrily. Baby sticks her tongue out at him in turn, and you shake your head. 

"(y/n) and I... are..." He clears his throat about five times, and RJ comes in the door, making a racket.

"RJ, shut the door, Otis wants to tell us something real interesting!" Baby says. RJ frowns, looking over, and Otis rolls his eyes, trying to get back on track.

"We're..." Everyone in the room is hanging on the edge of their seat in anticipation. Even Tiny is sitting forward expectantly. "We're...."

"You're what? Spit it out boy, haven't got all day to listen to you goin' 'we're... we're...' like some kinda yokel fuckin idiot," Spaulding calls.

"Yeah!" Baby yells. Tiny nods. 

"We're together, you impatient assholes!!" Otis blurts, holding you close to him, "This guy here. And me. We're together."

"Well, we can see you're--" Mama starts, then she has an epiphany. "OH! Oh my goodness..."

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Spaulding takes a deep breath, and drops the spoon. "I, uh..." he murmurs, "I'll be in the shop." Everyone waits, listening to him peel out of the yard in his car, and Mama waves a hand his way. Then she starts clapping.

"Oh, honey!!"

"I knew you swung different ways, big bro," Baby grins, jumping up and prancing around him, "But it's real swell that ya opened up that big mouth of yours and told us!" Tiny comes over and nearly crushes you and Otis together in a hug. Otis coughs a few times, and swats at him. RJ walks over, smiles a little (the most you'd ever seen him do so) and slaps you both on the back so hard it sends you stumbling. Then he leaves out back, off to do whatever the fuck he does. 

"You guys... don't mind?" Otis asks, and you smile his way. 

"Mind?! What the hell've we gotta mind about, you two are in loooove!" Mama shrieks. She gives you a huge hug and pinches your cheek. "Love is a beautiful thing that must be celebrated, no matter who it is between."

"Hey you must be real talented off your feet to net this one, if you know what I mean sugar," Baby says to you, and you blush as Otis glares. 

"Cut it out." 

"You cut it out!" 

"Fuck you!" 

"Fuck you!" 

You clear your throat, and Otis takes his place beside you again. 

"And... what about Cutter?" Your boyfriend's voice wavers a little, and he probably hates himself for it. Spaulding is like a dad to him, even if the two are rarely on speaking terms. 

"Don't know why daddy left," Baby shrugs. "Seems fucking weird."

"Don't pay no nevermind to that old clown," Mama huffs, "Actually-- you know what? I say we eat the dinner he cooked, then go out and pay him a visit, see just where his head's at. That ain't like him to just up'n leave like that."

"No, I--"

"Come on y'all, we's having a banquet then we’s goin' to the gas station!"

So, after a very nice dinner, everyone piles into the family car. You have to sit on Otis' lap to fit, which is okay with you and okay with him. Once you get to the gas station, Mama stomps out, ready to tear Spaulding a new one... but instead, she gasps.

"Oh, it's so bea-utiful!"

"Jesus Christ, woman, I wasn't even done," Spaulding comes out, complaining. Your face lights up as Otis' jaw hangs open. Tiny grins, and Baby squeals as you all gather around the shop that now has rainbow flags adorning everything. 

"Oh my god," you whisper, chuckling, and Otis turns around, face red. He walks right back to the car and goes to get in, but everyone drags him back out. 

"What do ya think?" the clown beams, "I'd say I outdid myself." He pulls the string on his skull bowtie, and goes "yaiyaiyaiyai." 

"It's amazing," you tell him, "Thanks, Cap." He puts a hand on your shoulder.

"This is an event, son! This is a cause for goddamn celebration, ain't no way I'm gonna miss it." He turns to Otis. "Now I called Charlie, he's gonna bring the girls and the good shit then we're all gonna have a big party tonight." 

"Aw shitfire," Otis mutters. Spaulding's eyes widen. 

"I dare you to complain! You got no idea how hard it was to reach the ass-backwards fucker, let alone find all this multi-coloured bullcrap in rural Texas to build a shrine for your homo ass!" 

"You didn't fuckin' have to, Cutter, I didn't specifically request you throw me a big fuckin' gay bash!"

"You-- shut the fuck up. Charlie's comin'."  

"I hate Charlie, that fuckin' nutsack." 

"Well he hates you too, but that's just cause you're an asshole."

"Not wrong," Baby hisses, dodging Otis' swipe. You nudge him. 

"Your family's happy for you. This is better than what you were imagining would happen," you whisper to him, and he sighs, giving you one of those deep looks you know so well that conveys everything he's feeling to you without words. He hates attention, but deep down you know he loves feeling appreciated-- you know that from your own relationship experience with him. 

A cop car suddenly comes driving by, and the window rolls down. You always get worried when that happens, but the others are used to it. Otis takes a few steps in front of you, protectively, and holds your hand. 

"Hi there, folks," Wydell says, tipping his hat, "Just asking people in the area if they've seen a missing g--" 

"Sheriff Wydell, you miserable motherfucker, GUESS WHAT?! " Spaulding yells, "My son got himself a BOYFRIEND! The anti social one?! Roped in this one right here, ain't he a looker?!" Mama nods excitedly, waving one of the little rainbow flags and pointing at you. The Sheriff awkwardly frowns, and nods slowly, noticing all the rainbow paraphernalia around the station. 

"That's... real nice. Y-You folks... have a nice day, then..." 

"Holy shit," Otis whines, wishing he could crawl underground to the family catacombs, and you kiss him on the cheek happily. 

"Here," Spaulding starts passing greasy paper bags around to everyone. "Tasty fried chicken for everyone to get this shindig going!" 

"Alright, fuck yeah," Baby giggles, and goes to dig inside for some booze as well. 

"Your chicken is fucking disgusting," Otis mutters, handing his extra bag to Tiny, though he can't help but smile a little. Spaulding gets right in his face with a pointed finger. 

"Boy, I'mma let you get away with your ass today, cause you're finally OUT OF THE CLOSET!" 

"Announce it to the whole state of Texas, why don't you old man?" Otis retorts, hiding deeper in his plaid sweater. You have to laugh. Tiny joins in, grabbing a rainbow party blower and deafening everyone. He then picks you up and puts you on his shoulders, and starts dancing, poking Otis to join in. 

"Oh, I... okay, stoppit, all of you, I just... alright, enough! Tiny, stop!"

"Ohh, but this is so exciting, baby!" Mama grins, trailing her flowy dress around. 

"Hell yeah!" Baby calls from inside, coming out with armfuls of beer, "My brother's got himself a pretty boy, let's get fucked up and do fucked up shit!"

Tiny plops a rainbow party hat on top of Otis' head, and your boyfriend sighs. 

"You know at this point, I would've preferred you kicked me out of the family or something."

"We'd never do that to ya, big bro," Baby smiles, leaning on his shoulder, "You're one of us." She turns to you. "And now it looks like you are too, (y/n)." 

Otis looks at you in irritation. "Lucky for you, babe." 

"I actually think I am pretty lucky," you smile, and embrace a big Firefly Family hug.  

[lizwontcry]

Can I request a fic? It's my birthday tomorrow, and it's looking fairly grim, so if you could give me something silly like Gerri, Roman and like a monocle or something equally ridiculous, then it would make my week. No pressure, but if it would help, I'd love it.

Happy birthday! Sorry it’s looking grim, that always sucks on a birthday. Here is something silly as you requested, I hope it’s kind of what you were looking for :)

It's a rainy Sunday afternoon in the city, and Roman is bored. He's texting Shiv pictures of dogs that look like Trump, glancing at stock prices, and giggling at Baby Yoda memes. Gerri is reading a book she's been trying to finish for months now. He doesn't want to bother her because for once, she's not working. But god, he's just so fucking bored.

They are at home, on the new black suede sectional they bought for their new apartment. Roman is laying on one end with Gerri sitting close enough so he can put his feet in her lap. She scoffs when he places them there gently, but she doesn't move away. This is what they do when they aren't at the office, which they seldom aren't these days. Roman has grown to appreciate these quiet Sunday afternoons where they enjoy each other's company, but also... he needs to be doing something or his mind never stops wandering.

"Stop being so fidgety, Rome," Gerri finally protests when he can't stay still.

"Sorry! I know you're trying to read. But like... let's do something. Like Twister, or strip poker."

Gerri raises her eyebrows. "You do realize I am about forty years too old to play Twister, yes?"

"Well, it's not like you need hip replacement surgery or something," Roman says.

"Yes, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you."

"Okay, so strip poker it is! Do you have any cards?"

"As appealing as that sounds... go get a board game from my closet. I always keep a few in there for when Samantha comes to town. She loves them."

"Yes!" Roman exclaims. He pops up and rushes over to the closet. It's full of Gerri's stuff that she hasn't had time to find places for yet. There are so many things he wants to ask her about, and will in due time. Like, for instance, the tortoise statue in the corner of the closet. Or like the framed picture of her and Baird with the girls, standing in front of Disney Land, arms around each other, smiling into the sun. He wants to tell her that she can put it on display somewhere in the house, that she doesn't have to keep it hidden. That will be a conversation for the future.

He finds a few other interesting artifacts that he makes a mental note to ask her about. Finally he emerges from the closet with Monopoly.

Gerri laughs when he brings the game back into the living room.

"Really? The Roys don't own enough property for your liking?"

"Funny," Roman says. He places the game on the coffee table and then produces something else he found.

"I thought this would be appropriate for our game," Roman says, and brings the monocle he found out from behind his back. He raises it to his eye like an old, mustache-wearing geezer from the 1800s.

"Okay, and where in the world did you find that?" Gerri asks, grabbing it from him.

"From your closet full of crap," he says. "When did you ever use this thing? Was it Baird's or something?" They've finally gotten to a point in this relationship where mentioning Gerri's husband--RIP--isn't weird or taboo. Roman even occasionally, if Gerri is in a good mood, makes fun of the guy and his tortoise thing. It makes her laugh, actually, which is Roman's favorite thing to accomplish.

Gerri shakes her head. "No, it wasn't his. I wore it on Halloween once."

"I can picture that." Roman pauses to picture it. "Like you were a sexy librarian or something."

"Yeah, sure, something like that."

"Well, now I'm Mr. Monopoly Man," he says, bringing the monocle back up to his eye.

"The Monopoly Man never had a monocle," Gerri says. "I just read something about that on twitter. It was Mr. Peanut who had the monocle."

"Oh, that's fucking fascinating," Roman says, his voice heavily implying that it is not actually that fascinating at all. "Let's play this motherfucker. You will be the banker, I assume?"

"Of course, like you can be trusted with money," Gerri says playfully.

Roman sits on the floor while Gerri sets up the board, only occasionally rubbing her leg with his bare foot or finding other ways to randomly bother her.

The game starts out strong with Roman buying everything he lands on (predictable), while Gerri chooses her properties wisely. Just 20 minutes into the bloodbath, Roman is broke and Gerri owns all four railroads, plus Boardwalk AND Park Place. 

“So you’re going to win this game,” Roman says, and Gerri nods.

“Oh, did you not know that I am the Queen of Monopoly? My daughters even made me a plaque with the title; I’m surprised you didn’t find it while you were snooping around in the closet.”

“I was not... technically snooping,” Roman says. He gets up and grabs a Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“Uh-huh. Anyway, get back in here. We haven’t finished this yet.” Gerri looks almost more serious than she does when she’s negotiating the price of a new media company. Roman is slightly scared, and more than a little turned on.

“I don’t wanna. You’re going to beat me.” He knows he sounds like a brat, but he can’t help it.

“Yes, I am. Come on.”

So the game continues, and obviously it doesn’t take long for Gerri to mercilessly beat Roman. She looks quite proud of herself for this accomplishment. 

“Okay, okay, you can get back to your book now,” Roman says. He sighs and fishes his phone out of his pocket, on a mission to find more dogs to send to Shiv.

“Not so fast. Come here,” Gerri demands. He knows that look in her eye, and suddenly he’s not so upset that he lost the game.

Roman joins Gerri on the couch, and is rewarded with a kiss that holds a promise for a much more interesting Sunday afternoon than he planned.

When they come for air after the kiss, Roman picks up the monocle from the coffee table and says, “Well, m’lady, let’s go to the bedroom... chambers.”

Gerri laughs, but doesn’t protest. He follows her into the bedroom, still holding the monocle.

[mermaidsirennikita]

That succession finale omg!! tell me all of your thoughts!

UGH YES OKAY.

I think it was SO GOOD first off.  

People are kind of deluded, in my opinion, if they think this was all some Grand Master Plan of Logan’s.  Firstly, he is definitely kind of proud of Kendall and has more respect for him at the end.  Kendall may jumped out as the potential successor, even if his resentment will override his logic and he won’t move forward with it.  (Conventional wisdom, and Roman’s showing in the finale, would say that s3 will be the season of Roman+Gerri.)  But people vastly overestimate Logan’s abilities and see this show as like, a Game of Thrones type piece in which everyone is trying to outmaneuver each other in chess.  No.  Logan is a good businessman, and he is smart, but this season more than ever has hammered home that he needs to step down.  He is overly protective of himself; he would have looked better had he just copped to his own issues and stepped down willingly.  He showed real fear after that phone call in which he was told to step down, and there was no one for him to act for there.  He’s an old man, outdated yet still in power, which is one of those things the show is trying to make a point about.  I feel that Logan thought that Kendall was past his sell-by point; he’d given him chances to bite the hand, but he hadn’t...  So he assumed that he wouldn’t.  There’s no way Logan knew that Greg would flip with the documents.  

But all of this has been seeded.  I don’t think Kendall had a master plan; I think that he decided to snap in the moment as he realized that this accidental killing he’d been wracked with guilt over never mattered to his father.  His father would literally not respect him unless he became an even worse human being, and Kendall has been trying to be BE A BETTER PERSON lmao.  So he went all in.  You want me to be a killer?  CHILL.  His metaphorical deliberate murder of his father paralleled, of course, his literal accidental killing of an innocent.  I also feel that when we saw Kendall beg Shiv to look out for him, that seeded it to.  That was his one request, and she would have been smart to keep him on her side--he has value.  Shiv’s fatal flaw is that she deludes herself into thinking that she’s sO DIFFERENT, so much smarter than her “dumb brothers”, but she’s not.  All the Roy kids have their strengths and weaknesses and probably work better together a a cohesive unit, as seen when Shiv and Kendall teamed up to make Rhea look bad.  But Shiv wanted to keep Tom close, as he was slipping away, more than she wanted to keep her brother, someone who is much more potentially dangerous, in the fold.  Tom would have taken the hit and walked away.  In fact, I think it would have borderline been something of a relief for him to have an excuse to leave.  Shiv knew that, and in a sick way she does love him--though I also think that it’s about control, about needed that “safe” person with her. Tom has so much less power than Shiv, and she likes that.  Shiv’s downfall of the season was in this blunder, and in the fact that she revealed herself to be a daddy’s girl through and through.  Please save him, getting all emotional right before Kendall motherfucking axed her lol.  Her downfall was not as dramatic as his, but when you see her watching Logan, you know that he couldn’t be less impressed with her in that moment, and more comparatively impressed with Kendall.

We also, of course, had everything seeded with Greg.  Greg is a somewhat normal-ish person still, and he can see, like any outside person can, that Kendall is being abused in the worst way by Logan.  I think he could also see that Logan was probably going to feed him to the wolves, and almost did...  Whereas if he gets in good with Kendall from the start, he may have more longevity.  Now, I am a believer that Greg will Bran Stark this shit and win the long term, but I’ve also thought that a beautifully complete arc would be Kendall shadow mastering Greg’s reign on a level.  Like, for whatever reason he can’t be the public face, but he’s lost his soul completely and is maneuvering shit from behind the scenes for Greg.  Similar to Logan with Kendall, tbh.  This only solidified this being a possibility, which I loved.  Kendall knows that Greg has the documents; Kendall has also, intentionally or not, done things over the season to draw Greg in.  He may have thrown Gatsby parties in Greg’s penthouse, but he’s still casually letting him stay there.  He and Greg probably do coke together now lol.  It lines up.

I’m excited to see where Roman goes.  He’s fully with Gerri now--I was impressed to see him throw down the gauntlet for her, which I didn’t fully expect.  Roman is still too close to his father, and too vulnerable, to really have that “killer instinct”.  I think that he’s a creative guy, a big picture guy.  The interesting thing too is that he is the only one who really stood up for Kendall--which BROKE ME, those two really do love each other--but Kendall kinda fucked him, and knew he would, I think, as Roman pushed against “killing” him.  Roman just got a promotion from Logan, and he’s more in this company now than ever, just as Kendall puts a dagger in its heart.  So though Kieran gives Roman a bit of a smile as Kendall flips, it’s bittersweet.  He’s happy that his big brother DID SOMETHING, and deep down all the Roy kids know their father deserves it.   But they’ll be adversaries on the business end of things, for sure.

Other little things--beautiful moment between Shiv and Tom as he expressed how little her love really made him happy.  It’s toxic.  He’s a pet to her.  She’s leaning on him, he’s a crutch, but she doesn’t care for him.  A lot of people don’t seem to realize how abusive their relationship is, and Tom finally called that out.  “You told me you wanted an open relationship on our fucking WEDDING NIGHT”.  That was so calculated and emotionally abusive.  Matthew was amazing with his material in this episode.

Marcia really is fucking pissed, huh?

I really have no idea where Kendall goes from here.  The show has opened the door for a lot of possibilities.

Shiv could definitely rise from the ashes, like Kendall, but this was a huge blow of an episode for her in a way I don’t think people get.  Like.  She basically looks like a clown in front of her father right now, and is very much in his power.  But what does his power even mean anymore?  She backed the horse that got shot crossing the finish line, too--what now?

[fanforthefics]

Bennguin Animal husbandry for the 5+ headcannons 8D

1) Tyler is the big city slicker sent to the country to lay low during his scandal. It’s not a big scandal, he’s only minorly famous for being rich and hot on Instagram, but like, maybe he said some shit and did some shit that got caught on camera and his mom told him, very nicely but in her most Disappointed tone, that it would probably be good if he lay low for a while, just until her latest deal goes through. Tyler doesn’t actually want to fuck things up, even if it’s bullshit how much of a fuss everyone’s making about some partying and some admittedly badly phrased tweets, so he goes. It’s not like they don’t have the internet everywhere, and the dogs will be there so that’s what’s important.

The town he goes to is a little town in the middle of nowhere, which is about as close as Tyler gets to figuring out the geography. His mom knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy, and then Tyler’s driving up to an honest to god ranch, through some pastures that are filled with cows.

Gerry pops his head up, barks out the window at one of them. The cow does not react. “Yeah, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Tyler agrees. Or maybe the point is they are. Where did his mom even send him?

Where she sent him, he sees on the sign when he turns in the drive, is the Star Ranch. And who she sent him too, he sees, when he gets out of the car and rings the bell, the dogs tugging excitedly on the leashes to explore, is a big man about Tyler’s age, with eyes as big and brown as the cows, and who looks far more surprised to see Tyler than Tyler is to see him.

“Hi, I’m Tyler Seguin,” Tyler says.

“Yeah, I know,” the dude mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair, then straightens. Tyler can’t help but look. His shirt’s loose, but damn. “I’m Jamie Benn, my family owns the place. Come on in.” He steps aside, still looking awkward. This...doesn’t bode well. But Tyler can make it work, he figures. There have to be some views around here for some good Insta posts. And at least the dogs will be happy.

2) To say Jamie’s happy to have a...lodger, at the ranch, is an overstatement. He gets why, and the money they’re getting for Seguin’s room and board is plenty welcome--they’re a small operation and money’s always tight--but to say Jamie’s awkward with new people is an understatement. Jordie always gives him shit when he says that, says he just needs to work at it, but Jamie doesn’t see why he should. He’s fine with the cows, with the employees on the farm, and at the market where they sell, and Jenny and Jordie can handle all the rest of the marketing and sales.

But it’s not like he doesn’t want Seguin to fit in. And, as Jenny had said, when they were talking it over, Seguin’s got more Instagram followers than Jamie can conceive of, so anything he says about the farm will be great publicity. The east coast hipsters, she says, are a vast but untapped market.

So he tries. He greets Seguin’s dogs, who seem pretty great and make Jamie laugh as they all try to lick his face, then shows them around, to the room where Seguin’ll be staying, around the house, whatever. It’s getting late to go around the grounds, and Seguin-call-me-Tyler-no-seriously had a long drive today; he doesn’t want to press. Tyler doesn’t ask, thougn he does look around at everything curiously, like it’s all alien to him. Jamie guesses it might be, for a kid who grew up in the city. It’s all Jamie’s ever known.

Still, it’s a relief when Jordie comes back in, so he can take over the conversation. He has Tyler chattering over dinner, about his drive and the dogs and his home and the Canucks and whatever else comes to mind. It’s nice, to have the noise; it’s always quieter when Jenny’s away, and Jamie and Jordie spend too much time together to talk too much. Tyler doesn’t seem to have that problem; Jamie can see why he’s so popular online, in the city. He’s pretty clearly making an effort, but that doesn’t stop the magnetic charm from working.

It probably helps that he’s got that ridiculous body and that smile and those curls that are like an invitation for someone’s fingers to tangle in them, and he clearly knows all those things. He flirts with Jamie and Jordie indiscriminately, and when Spezza comes in from the barn to tell them that he’s heading home for the night, Tyler flirts with him too.

After dinner, they clean up, and chat a little longer, then, Jordie stretches to head upstairs. “Night, then,” He says. Tyler makes a shocked face.

“Already?”

Jamie snorts, and Jordie grins. “Sun’s down, city boy. And we wake up early here.”

“Oh.” Tyler still looks gobsmacked.

“You don’t have to,” Jamie says, taking pity on him and the horror on his face, and only laughing a little. “Though the cows might wake you up anyway.”

“No rooster?” Tyler asks, rallying impressively. Jordie chuckles, ruffles Jamie’s hair, then heads upstairs with another good night.

It’s silent, for a long, long moment. Tyler’s just watching him.

“He also has to call his girlfriend,” Jamie offers. “That’s why, um. It’s early even for us.”

“Thank god.” Tyler grins. Jamie nods, but he doesn’t have anything to say either, so he gets up to go to bed too, after telling Tyler where the TV is and how the remote works and that shit. Tyler waves him away, but. He looks kind of alone, in the big kitchen all by himself, and very out of place.

3) Tyler spends three days almost always in his room. Or at least, Jamie thinks so; he’s in his room except for meals when Jamie’s in the house, anyway, and he doesn’t see him much around the ranch, except for when he’s running with the dogs. When he’s not in his room, he’s wandering around the house or the yard, fidgeting like a dog who can smell the rain.

He’s not getting in the way or anything, but Jamie still only lasts until the fourth day before he knocks loud on Tyler’s door, as the sun rises outside.

It takes him a few minutes, but then the door opens, and Tyler’s sleepy face pokes out. “Is something on fire?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his face. Jamie swallows, because Tyler sleep-rumpled is a sight, but then,

“Get dressed,” he says. “You’re helping out today.”

“I’m what?” Tyler asks, blinking. Not like he’s refusing, just like he doesn’t get it.

“You’re going to learn how a farm works,” Jamie tells him. “Come on, milking waits for no man.”

Tyler blinks, then shuts the door.

Jamie mostly expects for that to be the end of it, but five minutes later Tyler’s got jeans and an old Leafs t-shirt on, and he’s scrubbing water off his face. “Okay,” he says, looking determined. “Let’s go.”

So they do. Jamie takes him around the farm with him, introduces him to the hands and shows him how things are done. Tyler’s green, but he’s not stupid, and he asks questions and he touches the animals with the right amount of gentle firmness, and Jamie’s not going to think about that.

They’re finishing off feeding the sick cows in the barn when Esa comes over, to talk with Jamie about the fence in the back pasture.

“You finish up here,” Jamie tells Tyler, wiping his hands off on his jeans. “I’l come back when I’m done.”

Tyler stares at him, like he’s never heard that before. “Just—finish up? With this?”

“You’ve got the hang of it.” He’s been good so far. “I’ll be right back.”

“Um, yeah.” Tyler gives him a little salute, which makes Jamie chuckle. When he comes back from dealing with Esa, the cows are all fed, and Tyler’s looking at him, a little nervous and a little proud.

“Looks good,” Jamie tells him, and Tyler grins. Jamie can’t look at that grin for long.

They finish up the day, then go back in to shower before dinner. Before they go inside, though, Tyler catches his arm.

“Hey. Thanks. For this. I know I slowed you down, but—“

Jamie shrugs. “Looked like you needed something to do. And training only speeds people up in the long run.”

Tyler smiles again, then glances away for a second. “I thought you didn’t like me,” he admits, with a twist to his lips.

“Why?” Jamie doesn’t get it. He doubts anyone ever dislikes Tyler who’s met him.

“Because you didn’t talk to me?” Tyler says, with a self-deprecating laugh. “And wouldn’t look me in the eye?”

“Nah, that’s just Chubbs,” Jordie says, coming out of the office to throw an arm around Jamie. “I told you, he takes a while to settle in. How was your first day at the office?” He asks Tyler, and Tyler lights up again, talking about it.

Jamie slips away to shower as he does. There’s only so much of Tyler’s grin that a man can take.

4) It all spirals quickly, after that.

Tyler would like to say that he isn’t to blame. He’s only human, and he’d like to see the person who could see Jamie Benn hand-feeding a calf and not fall for him hard and fast. Or see him pitching hay, his shirt sticking to his broad chest as he worked in the sun. Or see him with the other employees, leading everyone like he’s forgotten he’s supposed to be shy and awkward. Or see how excited he gets about organic farming and all the sustainable changes they’ve made to the farm (that he’s made, Jordie tells Tyler, as Jamie pretends he isn’t listening; apparently it’s been Jamie’s baby). Or watched a baseball game with him, seen him yell at the screen and get flushed and hyped about it. Or just—seen Jamie, who looked at Tyler and saw what he needed, who didn’t hesitate to trust him with the things he loved most. Not a lot of people have trusted Tyler, historically.

And Brownie can go suck it, if he thinks this is just that Tyler usually falls hard and fast. Jamie’s different. Jamie’s not one of the charming people back in the city, all flirting and hard edges and fast times and fun. Jamie’s. Different, is all Tyler can say, and if Brownie doesn’t believe him, whatever. Tyler knows what’s up.

And for a while, it’s just sort of fun, in a hopeless sort of way; Tyler watches Jamie and banters with him and Jamie warms up, slow and sure. It’s sort of nice, actually; Tyler feels like he earned every time Jamie laughs at him, every time Jamie rolls his eyes and flips him off when he tries to sneak a picture of him framed by the morning light. It makes him feel special, that Jamie trusts him with that. And it just feels good, to make Jamie smile.

It also feels good to see Jamie squirm, which is why Tyler asks, at the bar Jamie took him to to meet up with some of his friends to give Jordie the house for the evening for a date night with his girlfriend, “So he was a big shot in high school?”

The guy Jamie had introduced as Tyson but who had corrected Jamie that it was T-Beauty laughs, as Jamie rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Tyson says, grinning mischievously at Jamie. “Shoulda seen him. Baseball, hockey—this guy was the shit.”

“Fuck off,” Jamie retorts, but he’s blushing in the good way. “It was all a team effort.”

“Sure, mon capitan.” Tyson salutes. Tyler laughs as Jamie shoves him almost off the stool. “Wow, see if I give you a compliment next time!”

“You compliment everyone, they aren’t worth anything,” Jamie complains, and Tyson scoffs. Tyler watches. It’s nice to see this too, Jamie casual and comfortable and having fun. He’s a little flushed from his few beers, even though they’re kind of shitty beers, and his long legs are stretched out in front of him.

“Fine then. Should we talk about how despite being captain of two varsity teams, you still only just managed to ask Jess Rogers to prom, then?” Tyson asks, and Tyler leans forward.

“Yeah, I think we should.”

“I really think we shouldn’t,” Jamie says. He pushes up from the table. “Another round?”

“Yeah. Whatever their best whiskey is, though, I need some real alcohol,” Tyler tells him, and Jamie makes a face but goes. Tyler is, again, only human, so he watches a little. Jamie’s jeans are not doing him any favors, but it still manages to work.

He starts to dig more about high school Jamie, because that’s definitely a topic he wants to know more about, so he only looks back at the bar to see some guy chatting with Jamie, a guy a little shorter than Jamie wearing flannel and cowboy boots and standing just a little closer in Jamie’s space that Tyler’s seen Jamie be comfortable with before.

“Oh, hey, speak of the devil,” Tyson says, following Tyler’s gaze.

“What?”

“Jess Rogers.” Tyson nods towards the guy. Tyler’s heart thumps. And maybe his dick a little bit. Okay then. “He’s been trying to get back in Chubbs’ pants since high school, but he was kind of a dick. And not in the way Jamie likes.”

“So that’s what Jamie likes? Dicks?” Tyler tries to be casual, but that’s not something he’s particularly good at.

Tyson gives Tyler a look like he definitely failed at the casual. “The literal kind, sure. The metaphorical kind…I’ll leave the shovel talks to Jord, eh? He’s more intimidating than me.”

Tyler reaches out to pay Tyson’s arm. “Don’t sell yourself short,” He tells him, and Tyson laughs.

“I like him, can we keep him?” He asks Jamie, when Jamie gets back. He hands Tyler a drink, and Tyler takes it. When he takes a sip, he let some linger on his lips so he can lick them, keep eye contact with Jamie.

Jamie definitely watches his tongue. “Um, yeah,” he says, just a beat too late. “As long as he’s here.”

5) Subtlety is not Tyler’s game, and what he needs is just to see, so he doesn’t particularly try. He pushes hard into Jamie’s space, he flexes, he flirts hard, and it gets him what he wants—Jamie is definitely looking back. He didn’t notice before, didn’t think there was a reason to, but. He knows how people who want to fuck him look at him, and that’s definitely it.

Or. It’s it. But maybe it’s more? Tyler’s less certain about that look.

Anyway, one step at a time, and Tyler knows how to put his best foot forward, so he waits until they get back to the ranch, after he lets the dogs back in and Jamie feeds them both water. Then he steps forward until Jamie’s back is to the wall, and he could move if he wanted to but it’d take pushing past Tyler.

Jamie’s breath catches, and his eyes widen. “Ty?” He asks, a little quiet. Unsure. Like he thinks he might be reading this wrong.

“No harm no foul if I’m wrong,” Tyler says, and then he kisses Jamie. Jamie’s not surprised for long, and of course he kisses like Tyler thought he might, beneath all the aw shucks Canadian boy exterior—bossy and sure and steady. It’s not the best kiss Tyler’s ever had, probably, technically, but who cares about technicalities when Tyler can bite at Jamie’s lip and hear the noise he makes at that? When Tyler can pull back to see Jamie staring at him, still like he’s confused but also like he’s so, so pleased?

“Um. So. You want—” Jamie starts, and it sounds like it might take him a while, so Tyler takes over.

“Upstairs, Jameson. Unless you want your brother to catch us bare-assed on the couch.”

Jamie snorts, grins. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says, with that hint of a grin in his eyes, and Tyler laughs incredulously as he tugs Jamie upstairs.

6) Jamie’s days pass in a haze of Tyler. He gets his work done, of course, but—Tyler comes with him around the farm, helps out on his own tasks. Pushes him onto the hay of the barn to kiss him, like Jamie all sweaty really gets him going. Poses for selfies with cows and tries to coax Jamie into them. Works out in the yard when he knows Jamie’s working on accounts in the office with the window with a view. And then when they’re done for the day, it’s just—more Tyler, joking and teasing and snapping his pictures and bugging Jordie and waiting for Jordie to go to bed before pushing Jamie onto the couch and going to his knees.

Jamie’s not a virgin, he’s had sex before. He’s had boyfriends before, and they’ve had very satisfying sex lives. But Tyler’s—it’s pretty clear he’s done a lot of shit Jamie hasn’t thought of, and he’s happy to share the fruits of his experience with Jamie.

But it’s not just that. Tyler’s—he helps out with the calves, and he’s started trying to learn to ride a horse even though he’s laughably bad at it, and he sometimes grabs Jamie’s hand just to play with his fingers, casual and sweeter than Jamie had expected.

Jordie just laughs and rolls his eyes at them when he sees them, because if Jamie had been considering keeping it a secret, that chance was basically gone when he’d come down with a hickey on his neck and Tyler looking very smug. It’s…nice. Working on the farm, coming home to dinner with his brother and Tyler.

“He seems very nice,” Jenny agrees. She’s back in town for a few days, and had, like everyone else, been immediately charmed by Tyler. Now she’s sitting at a booth in the bar with Jamie, watching as Tyler dances with one of the girls there. Jamie would maybe be jealous, but Tyler keeps looking at Jamie, like he’s checking in, and also—Tyler’s really hot when he dances. He dances like he knows everyone’s watching and he loves it.

“He’s going to break your heart.” Jenny doesn’t say it like an accusation. She says it like a fact.

“Yeah.” Jamie’s not stupid. He knows what’s going to happen. Tyler’s a city boy, and he’s still got his Instagram and his twitter he updates all the time and all the friends who keep up blowing up his home and the way he laughs at their run down bar and complains about how there’s no good Chinese food and ordered better sheets online because theirs weren’t soft enough. Tyler’s bright as a star, and about as far away. Jamie knows that. Knows that once everything’s died down, Tyler’s going to go back to the city and forget all about this dull little town. “But it’s good while it lasts.”

Jenny shakes her head. “Jamie—“ she starts, all big sister, but then Tyler’s there, holding out his hands.

“Do you mind if I steal your brother?” he asks Jenny. “Someone said there was going to be a line dance and I need someone to show me how.”

“Oh I am not—“

“Take him,” Jenny says, laughing a little. She catches Jamie’s eye, shrugs. “He’s being modest, he’s good at them.”

“Of course he is, what isn’t he good at?” Tyler asks, and Jamie snorts and rolls his eyes but lets Tyler pull him to the dance floor. It is good, he thinks, Tyler’s hand in his. For as long as he can have it.  

7) Tyler doesn’t think about any of that—about the future, about what happens when he goes home. He just thinks about Jamie. He knows he’s playing out of his league here, because he’s a fuck up and Jamie’s—Jamie, steady and grown up and a business owner and all that, but Tyler knows what he’s good at, and he’s definitely got tricks in bed that Jamie’s not used to. Which works out well all around, because Jamie might not be used to them but he can read Tyler’s play like nobody’s business, and he’s learning fast. Tyler’s—worried is the wrong word, but…he’s not entirely sure how he’ll keep tricking Jamie into staying with him, when the sex stops being so novel. Normally Tyler’d buy him shit, or something, but the time Tyler had gotten Jamie some nicer sunglasses Jamie had thanked him, but given him an odd look, and he still wore his old ones.

But for now, Tyler’s…happy. Sure, the ranch is a little quiet, but he likes working with animals, and how he’s getting enough of a hang of the ranch that he actually feels like he’s being helpful sometimes, and hanging out at the bar even with its shitty beer and janky sound system, and he likes Jamie. He lies Jamie a lot.

“Yeah, you’ve said,” Brownie tells him, patient even though Tyler’s told him about Jamie’s thighs a hundred times, probably. Tyler loves his bro. “Are you sure, though? This place looks weird.”

“What do you mean?” Tyler asks, defensive. The ranch is fucking great.

“The pictures on the website make it look like it’s in the 40s, that’s all.” Tyler makes a face, and pulls out his laptop. Brownie’s not wrong.

“Has anyone redone your website in the past forever?” He asks Jamie, knocking on the office door. Jamie looks up from his computer, with the pinched expression he always gets when he’s been thinking about the accounts. Tyler doesn’t want to ask, because it’s none of his business, but he knows what everyone says about farms and how shitty the business is nowadays.

“Um, I don’t know. I think my dad got someone to make it a while ago? We haven’t had the money to hire someone.” Jamie flushes, like he always does when he as to admit to shit like that.

“Bro, you know that like, it’s all about marketing these days, right?” Tyler asks. “Do you even have social media?”

“I don’t know, I think Jenny does—“

“OH, wow, your twitter hasn’t been updated for literal years.” Tyler shakes his head. “Come on, you have adorable animals as your business, how is this nor working?”

“We’ve been busy trying to run a business,” Jamie snaps, that temper of his—slow to rise, but Jamie’s seen him blow up at some teenager who was throwing rocks at the cows—coming in.

“Yeah, right,” Tyler mutters. Obviously this is none of his business. “Clearly I know nothing about that.”

“Fuck, Ty—“ Jamie takes a breath, runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t—I just don’t know about shit like that, okay? Jordie made me shut down my twitter after I did some stupid drunk tweets.”

“Okay, I need to see those, first,” Tyler informs him. “And. Yeah. Okay. So you don’t mind if I take some photos of the calves?”

“No? I don’t see why—“

“Trust me,” Tyler tells him, patting his thigh, and Jamie looks up at him, no hesitation.

“Of course.”

Tyler swallows. It’s so easy. It makes Tyler feel like he deserves it. Like he wants to be the kind of guy who deserves it.

8) Then—Tyler’s mom calls, and says it’s time he can come home.

She calls Tyler, then Jamie separately, to finalize the payments. So Tyler’s already packing when Jamie knocks on his door. Jamie’s not surprised, that he’s getting out of here as fast as he can. He’s just.

Well, he knew what was going to happen, didn’t he?

“So your flight’s tomorrow?” He asks.

“Yeah, bright and early.” Tyler surveys his room. A lot of his shit’s moved to Jamie’s in the past few months, so there’s actually not too much here. “God, I can’t wait to see everyone. Brownie’s been texting me nonstop since I told him, we’ve got so much to catch up on.”

“Right.” Jamie swallows. “Good. I’m glad you get to go home.” He’s not going to be an asshole about this, he’s not.

“And mom got a new dog! She’s got to meet her nephews.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, and Tyler turns to look at him. Jamie tries, he really does, but Tyler’s managed to get good at reading him, these past months. His hand comes up, rests on Jamie’s cheek.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Jamie echoes. “I—fuck it, never mind.” He turns on his heel, to go downstairs, to go out with the animals who don’t leave him behind. Who are his, his land, his town.

“Jamie! Come on, what’s wrong?” Tyler follows him down the stairs. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Jamie says, tight. “Have fun in the city. Maybe think about us when you eat some ice cream, if you use real cream.”

“What?” Tyler’s arms cross over his chest. “Think about you?”

“If you have the time.”

“If I—what the hell?” Tyler demands. “Are you breaking up with me?” He throws it at Jamie, but Jamie’s known him well enough to hear what’s underneath it.

“It’s not—you’re leaving,” Jamie says. It’s obvious.

“Yeah, so? They’ve got things called phones now? And FaceTime?”  He’s getting paler, as Jamie shakes his head. “Are you honestly dumping me when you can’t get laid all the time anymore?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Jamie snaps. “I just don’t want to draw out you breaking my heart.”

“So you’re going to break mine now?” Tyler retorts. “Fuck you.”

Maybe this is easier,  Jamie thinks. Maybe it is easier like this.

“Fine,” he says, and takes a breath. Straightens. He’s fine here. He’ll be fine again. “Good luck, Ty. I mean it.”

Tyler glares, and Jamie goes outside.

9) He doesn’t see Tyler again before he leaves.

10) Tyler goes home, because fuck Jamie. Fuck Jamie and his ranch and his earnestness and his thinking Tyler would just forget about him. Tyler wishes he could forget about Jamie. He tries. Tyler goes out to a party the second night he’s back, after spending the first with his mom, pretending like she doesn’t see right through him. He goes out and dances and drinks and finds a guy and tells himself he is definitely going to hook up with him. He definitely is, and who cares who might have a camera, who might see and talk about wild, scandalous Tyler Seguin—

Except. Except he can’t help but see Jamie’s face, and of course, and fuck him. Fuck him for ruining this too. Fuck him for making Tyler think he doesn’t need this.

Tyler gets home by 1. He can’t help but notice his mom’s smile, the next morning.

So partying doesn’t work, so Tyler tries something else. It doesn’t take much research to find a shelter, which seems up his alley. And it’s—it is fun, because it’s playing with puppies, and that’s never work, but. It’s not the ranch. It doesn’t have the same feel to it. Tyler’s volunteering, sure, but he’s not—he’s not adding something a five year old couldn’t do. (There’s no Jamie, Tyler knows. That’s the difference. But Jamie hadn’t wanted him in the end, he’d figured out that Tyler wasn’t worth keeping without sex, and that’s. Not unexpected.).

Then Jenny shows up at his door.

“Hi,” he says, too confused not to let her in. Or maybe to resist her pushing her way in. “Yeah, come in.”

She makes it to the entranceway before she turns on him. It’s like a weird dream, having a Benn standing here, in his house. “I told him it was a bad idea,” she says, like they’d started the conversation already. “I told him it would fuck him up, but did he listen to his older, wiser sister? Of course not.”

“What—“

“My brother,” she says, stabbing a finger at him, “Has been miserable.”

It’s a weird mixture of feelings that evokes in Tyler; he never wants Jamie to be unhappy, but there’s a visceral satisfaction in it too. “So?” He manages to ask. “He broke up with me.”

She snorts. “You can’t break something with an end date.”

“We didn’t have an end date he didn’t put on it,” Tyler snaps. She rolls her eyes.

“Come on. Like you were ever planning to stay with him when you were done with us.”

“Of course I was,” Tyler retorts. She rolls her eyes again, all condescension.

“And what, show him off to your fancy city friends? Your hick boyfriend? Sure.” She shakes her head. “We all knew what it meant.”

“Yeah, I’d have introduced my boyfriend,” Tyler says, trying to keep calm. He would have. He—it’s weird enough having Jenny here, he thinks. It’s true. What would Jamie do here? At one of the parties, like last night? He would have. He would have. “What are you doing here, anyway?” He asks, because that’s—too much. “So Jamie’s miserable. I’m doing great.”

She snorts again. “Unlike my brother, I actually have an Instagram, Tyler. Tell me another one.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” He tries again. “If you’re so sure it’ll never work out.”

“I…” she sighs. “You left it on a bad note. I know Jamie feels especially bad about that.” Of course he told her. The Benns don’t keep secrets from each other. “Maybe if you talk…”

“Then he can call me.”

“I tried that. He thinks you’ve already forgot about him.” She shakes her head. “I think he’s just trying to keep it a clean break, for his own sake, but—it’s not really clean. Not like this.” She looks at him again, and she doesn’t have her brother’s eyes at all, but it’s still somehow close. “Look, if you’re actually happy, let it go and he’ll get over it, but—think about it. Maybe it’ll help you both.”

11) She leaves. Tyler thinks about it. About we all knew and breaking my heart and forgot about him. About the shelter and the ranch.

Then it’s a lot, so he goes on Instagram, because that’s easy. That he knows.

Except he scrolls through until he finds a picture he took, the one he managed to sneak of Jamie holding a calf, feeding a bottle. It’s gotten good pick up, and not all because of the guy.

Tyler can’t look away from the guy though, the way he’s holding the calf in his arms, the way his face is caught between laughing irritation at Tyler taking the picture and fondness at the cow. He thought even then that this was only a thing until Tyler left, Tyler thinks. He’d thought it was only for slice of time, and he’d still turned down Tyler’s gifts, still smiled at Tyler like he didn’t want anything else, anything more.

The next picture’s of the ranch too, the sign against a sunset. It’s gotten really good engagement, actually. And a comment, a ‘are they sustainably farmed? Link please!’

Which. Huh. Tyler turns that over. Thinks about it, too.

And makes a choice.

12) Jamie’s hot, and tired, and he needs a good shower after he’d spent the whole day dealing with a sick cow who they’d had to move into the barn. It’s hot, sweaty work, but it’s also the kind of physical work that Jamie’s good at, that keeps his head in the game and not anywhere else. Say, a city thousands of miles away. Where it has no business being.

He’s considering how to escape Jordie’s continued campaign to get him to go out to the bar that night, like hooking up with someone else could wash Tyler away, when he comes into the yard and—Tyler’s there.

Jamie blinks. He doesn’t think heart break causes hallucinations. But—the other options is Tyler is back here, sitting on the stoop in the ranch yard, wearing the jeans and sneakers like he was planning to work and not the designer stuff he had arrived in before. Looking at Jamie like he was a sight for sore eyes.

“Um. Tyler?” Jamie asks, and Tyler scrambles to his feet.

“Hi. Jamie.” Tyler grins, and it’s as big and overwhelming as it ever was.

“What are you doing?” Jamie asks. His heart’s beating loud in his ears. This is the hurt he wanted to avoid.

“Yeah. So. Here’s the thing. You need a marketing person.”

“Tyler—”

“There’s a whole untapped social media market out there, look. I posted a picture and I got like, a dozen requests for a link.” Tyler’s pulling out his phone, like he’s going to demonstrate it, that hint of nervous he’d have when he needed someone to tell him he was doing a good job. “You can really expand here, and—“

“Tyler,” Jamie interrupts again. He’s sure Tyler’s right, this is what Tyler’s good at, but. Jamie feels ripped open. “Why are you here?” He swallows. “I thought you were back home. Not thinking about” me “us.”

“Yeah, funny story.” Tyler’s smile isn’t very amused. “So this guy broke my heart.” Jamie really doesn’t want to hear this.

“Ty—“

“Turns out, he’s got this complex, see. Thinks that he’s forgettable. Like I could ever forget about him.” Tyler shakes his head, tsking his tongue, but he’s not looking away from Jamie.

“You went home.” Jamie knows that, even if Tyler’s back here, with the hot sun on their necks. “You went back to the city. This isn’t your home.”

Tyler takes a second, squaring his shoulders, like he’s gathering courage. Then, “But it could be,” he says, and he sounds—hopeful and trying not to hope at once, like he could be casual. “I—could help out on the ranch, and do the marketing, and—”

“You got bored here for three months,” Jamie cuts him off, before he can start to hope. This place is in Jamie’s bones and blood, but he gets it’s not for everyone. “You couldn’t get back to the city fast enough, I saw—”

“Because I missed people. But that’s what visiting is for.” Tyler swallows again. “I haven’t—I’ve never felt like I could actually be useful, until I came here. Until you trusted me with this. There’s nothing back h—back there, that feels like this. But I can help, and—“

“We can’t pay you.” Jamie feels like he’s throwing things at a wall, but he needs—he can’t. This is too much, too terrifying, too everything he wants.

Tyler smirks, suddenly. “You’ll be able to once I’m done.”

“Tyler,” Jamie says again, because it’s all he can say. “Are you sure?” If he wasn’t—Jamie knows that heartbreak would be so much worse.

Tyler nods, brilliant and bold and reckless. “Can I stay?”

Jamie’s officially done with words, so he grabs Tyler and kisses him instead, and Tyler kisses him back just as desperate, like he doesn’t notice the sweat or the heat or any of it. Like he’s coming home.

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Eighteen

2600 words

19th November 2017

Standing backstage waiting for the winner to be announced of New Artist of the Year at the American Music Awards was one of the worst things you had ever done. 

In the build up to it, you had been to the loo at least five times. When you were nervous you had a constant need to pee. You had a nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach, you slowly sipped water from a bottle to try and relieve it.

Niall was sat out in the seating area, waiting to hear if he had won or not. His nerves had been evident the last few days, even more so while he was getting ready. He'd had his team with him, getting him suited and booted, ready to walk the red carpet. You were so incredibly proud of him.

You'd seen some messages online asking if you were going to walk the red carpet with him. People had obviously seen the pictures of you both in New York. Fans had begun speculating even more about you both. Niall was performing Slow Hands tonight, so you had that to deal with, and you definitely weren't ready to go public like that. Yes, you'd appeared on his social media a couple of times, but that was as much as you both wanted to share. The comments on the posts had been mainly positive, with only a few nasty ones.

When his name was called out amongst the nominees, he got the biggest scream from the audience. You of course were backstage fangirling over him with Tara and the whole crew and band. When he stood up after being announced as the winner, he hugged Shawn Mendes, Mully and Olly Murs who he had been sitting with, before making his way up to the stage. 

Everyone backstage was going crazy, jumping up and down in excitement of his win. You pulled out your phone, typing him a quick message which you knew he obviously wouldn't see right away, but you wanted him to see it at some point.

"So proud of you. I love you with all my heart xxx"

With the event coming to a close soon, you quickly worked as a team to pack up the equipment following Nialls performance. You were heading off on the 370 mile drive to Phoenix, travelling overnight ready for the show there tomorrow. Niall would be going to an after party and staying at his L.A. house for the night, before flying to Phoenix in the morning. He had tried to make you stay with him, but you had once again insisted on travelling with the crew. Tour was nearly over with just two dates left, Phoenix and San Francisco. You'd be arriving for the last show there a day before, so could celebrate with him that evening just the two of you.

You did feel bad about leaving him that night, but you had to be professional and go with the crew. Plus you wanted him to go and celebrate with his friends without the worry of you both being photographed.

He came up behind you as you were stood by the crew tour bus, pinching your hips and making you yelp with surprise. 

"Jesus Niall!" You said clutching your heart and playfully pushing him away.

He looked absolutely gorgeous in his suit this evening, you would need to congratulate Ellie for her amazing taste when you saw her. All the crew were congratulating Niall and talking about the evening.

 "Martin, can I steal Callie for a few minutes before you guys leave?"

 "Yeah of course, but no funny business!" Martin replied laughing.

 "I promise!" Niall said.

Making your way to Nialls tour bus, you had barely made it up the steps before his lips were on yours. Reaching your hands up around his neck you were careful not to run your fingers in his hair and ruin Sienrees work. His hands were wandering up and down your sides before he reached around and gave your bum a squeeze causing you to smile against his mouth.

"Needed that to keep me going until tomorrow." He whispered against your lips.

"Mmmm me to. This suit looks fucking amazing on you."

He laughed before leaning in for another kiss.

You continued to kiss for a few more minutes before you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

 "I'm going to miss you Petal. Are you sure I can't persuade you to come to the party with me and then stay at mine?" He asked, as he kissed you along your neck, nipping your ear.

 "Niall........" You managed to mumble out. "You know I can't, I have to go with the crew and then get set up for tomorrow. It needs to be done before you arrive."

"I'm sure we could work something out. Or would you really prefer to sleep on a bus rather than next to my naked self?" He said smiling.

"Hmmmm Niall you know what I'd prefer, you don't even need to ask." 

"So come with me.....don't make me beg." 

"I can't babe, it's my job. I can't leave the crew to do my work just because you want me naked in your bed."

 "I just wanted to celebrate with my favourite girl." He said as he continued to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw.

 "I know you do." You smiled. "I'm sorry, but we will have to celebrate together when we are in San Francisco. We've got the whole day before the show to do some sightseeing and then the whole evening in a hotel, just you & me."

"Been dreaming about it already." He whispered.

"Such a filthy boy." You laughed.

"I tell you all the time, the things you do to me." He said, as he kissed you deeply again.

When you finally emerged from the tour bus 5 minutes later, you were completely flustered and Niall looked smug about it.

With another quick kiss and lots of I love yous before you left, you boarded the tour bus with the crew and jumped on the road to Phoenix.

 "We're hiring bikes?!" You asked Niall as you pulled up outside the rental shop in Sam Francisco. "That's the surprise?!"

"Yeah, is that ok?" He asked unsure of your reaction.

"Hell yeah, that'll be a great way to see everything!" You replied smiling.

With Mark, the band and Adam and Kyle from the crew you all got yourselves sorted with safety helmets and suitable bikes. Tara had found a cycle route for you all to take and had given Mark the instructions, trusting none of the others to be able to navigate it.

You spent the afternoon cycling along the route she had suggested, pausing only to take a group selfie in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. Niall snuck a selfie of you both too and a cheeky kiss since there was no one else around.

"Just because we all know about you two now, doesn't mean we want to see the smooching!" Gerry had called out and everyone laughed.

By the time you got back to the bike rental place you were all shattered. Your legs were definitely aching and so was your bum. It had been a long time since you had cycled like that. Spending twenty minutes on a spinning bike at the gym was easy compared to spending nearly three hours on a bike.

When you got back to the hotel you all decided to grab a quick dinner with each other. Not even bothering to go to your rooms to shower first, you all sat looking exhausted at the dinner table.

Conversation was light and full of talk about the amazing sights you'd seen today. This was the type of day that Niall had wanted when he visited cities around the world. To finally be able to explore where he was and see the real city, not just the venue he performing at or the tv station where an interview was.

You picked a homemade bacon burger and a beer to have, taking a photo of the massive thing and sending it to Bex with a thumbs up emoji. The ride had made you completely ravenous and your tummy had been rumbling for the last hour.

Everyone made their excuses and went to their rooms after you'd all eaten, all of you tired after your busy afternoon. Niall called the front desk when you got back up to your room asking them to send up some wine. You went into the bathroom and upon spotting the massive jacuzzi bath big enough for two, you started to run the water. When you emerged a few minutes later, you had stripped off all your clothes.

Niall's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw you leaning against the door frame, and he instantly made his way over to you.

"Fancy a bath to ease that knee of yours?" You asked him, as he ran his fingers up and down your skin.

"Definitely." He smirked. "Go get comfy in there while I wait for the wine."

When you both finally sank into the bath, wine glasses sitting on the edge, you let out a massive sigh. Pressing the button for the bubbles to start made you sigh again and Niall gave you another of his smirks.

"You ok over there love?!" He asked from the opposite end of the tub.

"Mmmmmm." You replied, eyes closed, head tipped back. This was complete heaven after your bike ride today.

"Your boobs are amazing." He suddenly mumbled. You opened your eyes to find him taking a sip of his wine, his gaze set on your boobs that were bouncing up and down in the water.

Biting your lip down, feeling slightly embarrassed. You didn't reply anything, just reached over and took your own wine from the side and taking a long sip.

 "So......last show tomorrow. Has your first tour been everything you hoped it would be?"

"Been better than I could've wished for, especially with having you by my side." He smiled at you as you blushed.

"Next year will be even better." He added. "More shows, more travelling."

"It's going to be amazing, I'm hoping to be able to see loads more cities, do a bit of sightseeing again if we can."

"Definitely."

You spent the next twenty minutes discussing where you wanted to visit and what you wanted to see.

"Maybe we can get a couple of holidays in before all the madness of tour starts again?" He said.

"Yeah, sounds good. Any ideas?"

"Well I have to go to Dubai for a golf thing in January, so if you wanted you could come too. Maybe we could spend a few days out there sunning ourselves?"

"Like the sound of that!" You grinned.

"What are your plans for when this tour ends? Have you got any other work lined up?" He asked.

"No, I haven't. I'm fully contracted to you, so can't work for anyone else until that ends in 13 months time."

"Really?" He replied quirking up his eyebrow.

"Yeah, why does that surprise you?" You smiled.

"Doesn't surprise me, just like the fact that you won't be away working for someone else." He said, a massive smile on his face.

"Well, they pay me a monthly salary while I'm contracted to you, so I don't actually need to work for anyone else."

"So, the first part of my original question was do you have any plans while on the break?"

 "I don't really.......why?" You questioned, nervous about what he was asking.

"Just trying to decide if it's really selfish of me to ask you to give up your time off and follow me around or not?"

You hadn't expected him to say that. You knew that just because tour had ended that didn't mean that he had a complete break from work commitments. He had mentioned something about Paris and a Paul Smith meeting when you'd been sitting having lunch with Ellie a few weeks ago. Niall had also been talking with Tara about paperwork he might need for his work trip to Dubai. 

If you were honest, you would travel whenever he wanted you to. That pull towards him was getting stronger each day. And you knew if the tables were turned, he would follow you to. You decided to have a little fun with him about it first.

"Hmmm, depends." You replied, trying to keep a straight face.

"Depends on what?!" 

"On what I get in return?"

His eyebrows quirked at that.

"So, there are conditions of you coming to Dubai and L.A. with me?"

"Most definitely." You said taking a sip of your wine.

"Such as?" You loved how his face had a look of total confusion on it, he was definitely curious to what you would say next.

"I'd like to see that cute bum of yours naked everyday for a start."

"Ok, but only if I can see yours." He replied laughing. "What else?"

"A date night at least once a week." You said stretching out your legs a bit more.

"Of course." He nodded. "Think that would be amazing to be able to go on proper dates together all the time."

"On a more serious note though, I do want to spend some time with Bex. And I don't want you turning down time out with your friends for me. I don't want to be one of those couples."

"I get that. Anything else?"

You shook your head. "No."

"Deal."

"We can go over your diary and work out a plan when tour ends." You added.

"Yeah, we need to sort out Christmas anyway."

"Christmas?"

"I've got a flight booked for the evening of the 23rd, I always go back to Ireland then."

With a hectic tour and all the crap with Saskia you had been dealing with, you hadn't even thought about Christmas. When would you see each other? What did he normally do over the holiday season?

"I'm not wanting to presume anything but I would like to spend some of the holidays with you, if you want that is?" He said.

"I'd like to spend some time with you too. I'll talk to my parents in the next couple of days."

"Sounds good."

"Mmmmmm, can we just stay in here forever." You said, sinking down into the jacuzzi bath.

"I'm up for that!" He replied sinking further into the bath as well. "You know, I've never really been a bath person, but I think I might get me one of these for my bathroom."

"Babe, baths are the best."

 "Never been a fan of sitting in my own filthy water."

"Hey, the water is not filthy!"

"It is! When you wash in a shower it goes down the drain. In a bath you sit in it! You know that's true."

You shook your head at his insults of baths.

"Only thing filthy in here Niall, is you." You muttered.

"Not going to lie love, I haven't stopped looking at your boobs. Bit gutted you've moved under the water more, can't see them as well."

"Told you........you're filthy!"

"You're the one tickling my balls with your toe Petal." He replied, his head laying back against the edge of the bath, eyes closed.

You splashed him then and watched his face screw up as the water hit his face. Running his hand down his face, he wiped the water from his eyes.

"You're going to get it now!" He laughed as he sat up and moved towards you, a devilish look in his eyes.

Part Nineteen

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/183885038168/you-me-part-nineteen

Tag list

@niallersdirtylaundry

@youvegotyourvictory

@fireawayniall

@sugarwithlilspice

@juicyfruitlove

@ihearthemcallingforyou

@klairelavarias

@lizziespidiepridie

@irishfireandice

@someoneunimportantxx

@awomanindeniall

@loulouloueh

@sing-me-a-song-harry

@niallergirl1d

@niallspeachybooty​

@roseytattoo

[supercasey]

TMA Fankids

Exactly one (1) person enabled me to post this, so here we are

JON/MARTIN KIDS

Name: Sebastian Timothy Blackwood-Sims Gender: Transman Age: 14 Appearance: Long black hair, dark brown eyes, dark skinned (African), paints his nails a lot (usually black or purple), wears a lot of oversized hoodies and leather jackets, almost always wears sweatpants, wears goth makeup because fuck you, etc. Personality: Is way too much like Jon according to everyone, but he's got Martin's softness and high empathy. Gets really anxious if he has to socialize a lot, so his dads try to make sure he has a lot of alone time when he needs it. Acts like a little punk, but he loves his younger siblings to death. Can see ghosts, and has been seeing and talking to someone named “Gerry” since he was about three or so (it worries Martin, but Jon is secretly happy about it). (Marked by the Lonely/Eye)

Name: Millicent “Millie” Georgie Blackwood-Sims Gender: Ciswoman Age: 13 Appearance: Long black hair, striking grey eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/African), wears a lot of leather jackets and short skirts, always has the coolest socks, usually has at least a few bandages on her knees, wears glasses (round frames), ties a lot of ribbons in her hair, etc. Personality: Very goth despite only being thirteen years old (makes Auntie Melanie proud). Surprisingly enough takes more after Martin than Jon, but she definitely has Jon's curiosity. Loves hanging out with Sebastian when she can. Also quite introverted, but she makes friends really easily. She likes hanging out with her dads sometimes, but she doesn't share many of their interests. Loves all things biology. (Marked by the Eye)

Name: Franklin “Frank” James Blackwood-Sims Gender: Cisman Age: 9 Appearance: Short orange hair, bright green eyes, pale skinned (Caucasian), covered head to toe in freckles, wears glasses (round frames) but they're almost always cracked (much to Jon's frustration), has a gap between his front teeth, wears a lot of outdoorsy gear and shorts, insists on wearing his safari explorer hat everywhere he goes, etc. Personality: Absolute wild child; he wants to play sports and run around outside as much as he can, something neither of his dads can relate to, but they encourage him to pursue his interests and be his own person. He really wants to be an explorer of some kind when he grows up, and he adores animals with all his heart. Very extroverted. (Marked by the Vast/Eye)

Name: Sasha Hope Blackwood-Sims Gender: Ciswoman Age: 6 Appearance: Dark brown hair, light brown eyes, covered in dark freckles, mixed race (Caucasian/African), wears a lot of light greens and blues, loves wearing princess themed dresses, carries her stuffed T-Rex “Mr. Chompy” everywhere she goes, has a lot of hairbands, wears glasses (round frames), etc. Personality: She's still pretty young, so she's obviously only just beginning to become more of her own person/have a personality, but so far she's taking a lot after Jon and follows him around everywhere he goes. She looks and acts a lot like OG!Sasha, not that her dads know this. What's more concerning, however, is that she reportedly keeps seeing a big, green eye in her dreams, something she seems frightened by. (Marked by the Web/Eye)

BASIRA/DAISY

Name: Kingsley Bruno Hussain-Tonner Gender: Cisman Age: 15 Appearance: Tall as all hell, long dark red hair, even darker brown eyes, mixed race (Latinx/Arab), has a scar running down the right side of his head, wears (Daisy’s) his mom’s old leather jacket around, has the most torn up jeans known to man, wears glasses, always has bandages around his knuckles, refuses to wears shoes/socks, etc. Personality: Born rebel. He’s been getting into trouble since he could walk, and he can’t help but take pride in that. Good friends with Sebastian, even if he thinks he’s a bit too nervous for his own good. Loves wrestling with Daisy whenever she’s willing to. Teases his sister a lot. Bit of an asshole, but he’s got a heart of gold under all that angst. (Marked by the Hunt)

Name: Rosalina Melanie Hussain-Tonner Gender: Ciswoman Age: 12 Appearance: Light brown hair (shaved off), dark brown eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Arab), wears glasses (square frames), prefers wearing sweaters and gym shorts despite them looking weird together, has over a million pins on her backpack/purse, carries first aid supplies on her at all times, refuses to wear shoes/socks, etc. Personality: Almost the exact opposite of her older brother. Very down to earth and chill; she honestly hates it when her bro tries to drag her into shenanigans. Prefers sports over books, and she really wants to form/join a sports team of pretty much any kind. Can beat her brother in a fight, much to his frustration. Bit of a Mama’s Girl for Daisy. (Marked by the End)

MELANIE/GEORGIE

Name: Bethany “Annie” Willow King-Barker Gender: Ciswoman Age: 9 Appearance: Second tallest of the triplets, short red hair (curly), bright green eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Latinx), her face and arms are absolutely covered in dark freckles, wears the most oversized sweaters, sweatpants are the best pants, etc. Personality: The firstborn of the triplets, Beth has a very no nonsense attitude, yet she still follows her siblings into all kinds of shenanigans (mostly because she goes along with whatever Matilda says). Pretty put together, but she's an eccentric bookworm and would much rather sit inside and read than play outside. (Marked by the Eye)

Name: Matilda Joy King-Barker Gender: Transwoman Age: 9 Appearance: Tallest of the triplets, long blonde hair, light brown eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Latinx), wears jeans with a skirt, has ballerina shoes (wears them damn near everywhere), tank tops are the best shirts ever invented, wears a ginormous adventurer’s backpack everywhere, always has some kind of big ribbon in her hair, etc. Personality: The secondborn of the triplets, Matilda is almost always the leader and insists that her siblings follow her along on adventures. She's very protective of her siblings (especially little Eddy), but also won't hesitate to dropkick them. Fairly outdoorsy. Has a great talent for solving puzzles and tests. Low-key hates Aunt Daisy for unspecified reasons. (Marked by the Hunt)

Name: Leonard “Leo” Grant King-Barker Gender: Transman Age: 9 Appearance: Shortest of the triplets (yes he’s mad about it), short brown hair, dark green eyes, mixed race (Caucasian/Latinx), wears shorts most of the time, every piece of clothing he has is torn in some way, has army boots, always brings a backpack with him places, wears glasses (square frames), etc. Personality: The thirdborn of the triplets, Leo is very introverted yet also very outdoorsy, often running around at all hours of the day and as far away from everyone as possible. Loves his big sisters, but he prefers hanging out with Frank when the Blackwood-Sims kids come over. Kinda cowardly if we're being honest, but he'll jump into danger if it means protecting his family and friends. (Marked by the Vast)

Name: Edwin “Eddy” Oliver King-Barker Gender: Cisman Age: 4 Appearance: Short black hair, light brown eyes that flash green when he’s upset, dark skinned (African), has a huge scar running from one corner of his mouth all the way down to the middle of his chest, can’t stand wearing short-sleeved shirts (unless he has a hoodie/sweater over them), hunches in on himself a lot, carries his stuffed cat “Cheshire” everywhere he goes, etc. Personality: Very, very introverted. Has a thousand-mile stare. Selectively mute; has never spoken a word to anyone. He clings to both of his moms whenever he gets the chance, but if they’re not around, he’ll follow his siblings wherever they go. Can and will bite you if you try to touch/hug him without his consent. Has definitely seen some scary shit in his dreams, even if he can’t talk about it. (Marked by the Dark/End/Eye)

[shutterbug-12]

Succession S2E2 Thoughts

Overall: 

Much better than the terrible agony that was the first episode. 

I still want to wrap Kendall up in a hug and transmit some life into him by osmosis. Shiv...I’m sorry, but I know a lot of you really love her, but I...really don’t. I have some sympathy for her, because she is the person made by a very hostile father and a very hostile world. And there is an element of me being biased towards Tom (although I will admit--will list--all his horrible qualities; I’m just glad he has a decent handful of redeeming ones), but Shiv is a pretty cold person (and yes, I would say that about Logan as well, and Roman--them especially--so I’m not calling her cold simply because she is a strategic, smart woman. But I feel like she has the capacity to be a decent person, with a decent heart, but she will never allow herself to be that kind of person. And that’s the tragedy of her for me. 

Her and Tom’s relationship is, in my view, incredibly unhealthy and fucked up. It’s a one-way street, and they could really be so much better, but...I don’t think they ever will be, unless Tom somehow...takes over, but *snort*. Talk about a clown running the circus. Whew. But yeah, as long as Shiv has so much power skewed in her direction and she doesn’t hesitate to use it and hold it over him, theirs will not be a relationship composed of equals, but Tom will continue to think, in his demented brain, that somehow they mostly are? King and Queen? No, no, Tom. Nice try. But you’re not on that level. It’s true that I see very small, slivers of moments when they need each other, but I...have seen...honestly, I can’t remember seeing one moment where it was clear that Shiv really loved him, just that she needed him. And those are very different things, at least for me. My dream scenario is that Tom can work up the nerve to leave her and be with someone who actually deserves him, but...that’s a different show, certainly not this one. So I suppose I’ll have to sit back and watch this trainwreck. 

Actually, I find it interesting to see the relationship between Logan and Kendall, and Shiv and Tom. They are very parallel in some big ways. Logan and Shiv are both very dominant, both dictate the terms of the relationship, both steer it, manipulate the other person at will, are both strong-willed and strategic but can be cruel, and both place their own interests above everyone else’s. They’re the controllers. Kendall and Tom, at least in this season so far (Tom has always been), are the submissive ones, the yes-men, acting at the behest of their counterparts, both very insecure about their relationships with those counterparts, although, granted, Kendall has passed over into dead-eye territory, where Tom has some life left. I can see how being in their position might be at times comforting, not having pressure on them, kind of enjoying the freedom that being submissive and simply obeying offers. And, really, in the dynamics of both relationships, I really feel for Tom and Kendall. Shiv is, of all the children, most like her father, and was from the beginning, but I think she’s leaning more and more that way, which...is a bad way to lean if you want to cling to some part of your soul. So I...am a bit worried about both Kendall and Tom, but I know something’s going to give at some point. In some way. So I’m...interested. 

One last thing: what made this episode so much better than the first one, for me, is the attention paid to the absurdity of the characters and their lives. That is the glory of the show for me. When it tries to get me to truly sympathize too hard with characters who, by and large, are not very sympathetic, I...am very turned off. Because we’re talking about uber-rich douche-bags who only care about themselves and their power. The only sympathetic characters (and even the moments when sympathetic characters have sympathetic moments and aspects) are ones who show motivations other than power grabs and greed. BUT, when the show highlights the absurd nature of...this entire palace drama? It’s at its height. Its at its best. This episode had a ton of that, and I was very grateful for it. The Vaulter dude was always a great vehicle to highlight some absurdity, and he came through here. Greg, of course, highlights the absurd aspects of Tom and the Roys in general. Connor himself. Amazing. The absurdity bouncing around in this episode made it so, so much better than the first one. 

Overall, B+ episode. 

As I watched: 

Oh, yay, the theme park! Been looking forward to seeing these parts. 

Beavis and Crackhead. Nice.

Aww, MM, you’re getting gray and it’s so...weirdly cute. Damn it. Also I can watch you try to get popcorn out from between your teeth with your tongue all. day. long.

Hmm, Logan listening to Shiv. Roman sees what’s happening. He’s not as stupid as he seems. Which we knew, but it’s nice to see. 

Mondale! And the Mondale voice is back! Tom & Mondale might be my favorite friendship on the show. 

The amount of time Shiv spends looking at her phone instead of talking to and listening to her husband is...pretty fucking sad. She LITERALLY walks away from him when he’s talking. Cool. 

“It’s not really a thing.” UM. WUT. No it’s a huge thing. One partner wanting to fuck other people, while the other one clearly doesn’t really want to is...a huge thing. And not talking about it is going to make everything worse, but sure, okay, continue thinking it’s not really a thing. 

Oh god, it’s kind of painful, how hard he’s trying to...rationalize that he’s okay with everything about their relationship. And trying to like...show he’s ready all the time, always down to fuck, just in case she was wondering. Heh. You can see the insecurity just coming off him in waves. 

Ha. I’m sorry, writers, but...an American wouldn’t say “cheeky” like that. Someone needs to check the British-isms. But it’s nice to see even a show like this mess up. ;) 

I mean, yes, this is a drool-worthy penthouse, but settle down Tom, or I’m worried you’re literally going to start fucking the sofa.

One of these days, Tom is going to actually...not roll over like a submissive dog. Maybe. 

*sings* Tom and Greg, together again, wheee! Tom and his punching bag. Tom, you better watch out, because at some point the bag is going to punch back. 

Um. Tom. I’d go easy on the creepy sexual metaphors. You can’t quite speak with the...disgustingness of Roman. Please stop trying.

LOL Name me one principle. Although, god, this is the ugliest side of Tom. How willing he is to compromise himself for advancement. He’s honestly...kind of a whore sometimes. And it’s his least appealing aspect of his character (his most appealing, of course, being his handsome, handsome cute face). 

By the way, non-Americans, real Americans don’t throw around this many “fucks.” And we don’t constantly speak in sexual metaphors. Granted, I’ve never been among these kinds of...terrible people, but still. 

OMG, her name is actually CYD PEACH?! Wow. No wonder you’re a badass bitch. With a name like that, who wouldn’t be? 

I kind of like this news lady, talking to Tom like the moronic asshole he is. Her sarcasm is just oozing out of her and I love it. This was such a great scene. 

Rough first day, Tom. But, hot damn, is he actually motivated to do...real work? Color me interested to see how this goes. 

Gerry, you’re amazing. You might be one of my favorite characters. 

IPAs that looks like run-off at the car wash. Ahahahahahha. Great line. 

OF COURSE CONNOR HAS AN EMAIL BULLETIN. Actually, Connor might be one of my favorites, too. He represents the most what I like about the show. The absurdity of it. It’s when the show strays too far away from pointing out absurdity that it gets...not nearly as enjoyable. 

Another great example of the absurdity: The conversation between Roman and Connor about the president. 

Ha, yes, Roman invited you to dinner because he’s learning your game, Shiv. He’s learning, against all odds, how to 

You did a thing. Mazel Tov. Another great scene with Roman and Tabitha. 

Oh, Tom, baby, you’re so nervous to...talk to your wife. Heh. That’s kind of sad. And ahahahhaah, you still think you’ve even in the uh, line of succession (too on point?) for CEO. Oh, Tom. You idiot. And, Shiv, you are...you don’t think Tom should get the big job, please. Come on. I wish she’d...be truthful about how much she wants it, at least with Tom, JFC. But honestly isn’t really in her vocabulary, so... ALSO, RAWR. Let me say how SHOCKED I AM that Shiv gets turned on when she thinks about herself being powerful. She gets off when she literally has Tom by the balls. Shocker. Shocker. 

AHAHAHAH, GREG’S APARTMENT SHOPPING. YES. LOL. THIS IS GREAT. Greg is the best. AWW, DID KENDALL JUST GIVE GREG AN APARTMENT? AWWWW, KENDALL! Aww, that awkward hug was probably the most physical affection Kendall’s had in...a long time. LOL. OMG KENDALL WANTS TO BE BUDDIES WITH GREG. YES. 

Oh boy. The most awkward dinner in history. Tabitha is so chill. OH NO, TOM AND TABITHA ALONE IN A ROOM. YOU SHOULD TRY SWALLOWING SOMETHING. OMG JKFDL;AJFKLAFJKSA;KJFDL. AHAHAHAHA. YEEEESSSSS. I like when the relatively powerless characters make a cutting power move. 

NOTHING IS WRONG WITH HIS BODY. DON’T YOU, EVEN. 

Okay, seriously, y’all stop making fun of Tom so hard. Jfc. My heart is going out to him here, honestly. Tom can be a dick sometimes, but this is cruel stuff. 

OMG OMG OMIG OGMD OSALJFSAL;FJSK TOM I’M SO PROUD OF YOU. I’M SO, SO PROUD OF YOU. FOR TELLING SHIV TO FUCK OFF. YES. I’M SO DAMN PROUD OF YOU. DKFLS;FJDKSAOMGGGGGGG. It’s nice to see the tiniest hint of backbone. 

Oof, this is what Tom and Shiv call “talking”? Meh, yeah, Shiv, you need him. You need a stable presence. You need a loyal sounding board. You need a yes man. Their relationship is so fucked up. Yiiiiiikes. They’re pretty much the WORST at open, real communication. 

Oh, boy, oh, boy. Poor Greg. Kendall, you dick. Making this your drug party. Ugh. I’m so fucking disappointed in you. (I’m still pulling for you, though.)

Guh, yeah, the scene in the car with Shiv and Gil...these kinds of scenes really show Shiv’s ugly side. (And Gil’s for that matter.) People needing the upper hand. People shitting all over each other. People needing to be right. 

Logaaaaaan, you’re such a dickheeeaaaad. A manipulative, awful dickheeeaaaad. Although, what a great line: make yourself at home. In...daddy’s office. 

Jesus, Kendall, you need a real car, man. 

AAAAH, IT LOOKS LIKE THE HUNTING EPISODE IS NEXT. AWESOME.