#bentley ride on push car

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [2]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

A/N: i’m fairly sure i’ve created two men made up entirely of red flags. Please mind the warnings, this work is dark.

previous chapter

The dry, arid heat that awaits you outside of the airport is a welcome change from the muggy Boston summer. Your phone vibrates insistently in your pocket as all of the notifications you’d missed come pouring in. Texts from your sister, pictures and videos of her excitedly documenting her landing and taxi journey to the cliffside resort. 

 You laugh a little as you scroll through them—she’s wasted no time getting comfortable. Her latest text appears at the top of your screen with a ping.

 Nathalie: yooooo where are you? this place is crazy! 

 We just landed, I think Ransom’s getting the car now. Is it nice?

 Nathalie: insane. it’s like all these cute little cabanas, and there’s like four pools, a tennis court, omg. you’re going to love it. i can’t believe it. 

 The pictures certainly seem to make you want to agree—from the looks of it, it seems like Lloyd’s gone all out. A hand settles onto your shoulder, and you look up from an aesthetic picture of Nathalie’s manicured toes in the sand. Ransom’s thumb rubs soothing circles against your shoulder through the fabric of your t-shirt. 

 “You ready? I think they’re pulling the car around now.” If it had been left up to you, you probably would have selected something a little more practical and inexpensive, but the Bentley that rolls to a stop at the curb in front of you is anything but. Ransom grabs the keys from the valet, and motions for you to hand him your suitcase.

 “Is-is Lloyd not coming?” You cast a glance over your shoulder, searching the crowd for Lloyd. You don’t see him—in fact, now that you think about it, you haven’t seen him since the baggage claim. 

 “He’s got his own ride. You know him, everything with a side of business.”It’s kind of a relief, having him gone. Being able to lower the protective walls you raise to shield yourself from Lloyd’s… Lloyd. You slide into the passenger seat and buckle in, and Ransom push starts the Bentley. 

 “Can you do the gps?” He asks, and you oblige, pulling up the address from the chat logs between you and Lloyd. You can’t help but grimace as you read them. There’s nothing overtly wrong per-se, but his texts feel a little… over familiar, the same way it does when he speaks to you.

 Lloyd: Here’s all the ticket information. I trust you two know how to have a good time. 😉

 Lloyd: Held up, are we? My brother’s always been the impatient one. 

 All of his messages border on inappropriate, at least, in your opinion. Perhaps it’s because he’s his twin, but Ransom steadfastly ignores their rather promiscuous nature. You scroll through until you reach the link to the reservation, pulling it up in your maps app. 

 “It says it’s like five hours from here.” You set the phone up in the little holder, positioning it so Ransom can see it. He blows out a frustrated breath.

 “Five hours? Jesus, Lloyd,” he mutters, shaking his head. You laugh. 

 “I think it’ll be fun,” you say, elbowing your husband. “It’s like we get our own little miniature road trip before the reunion happens and everyone gets here, right? Just us.” He looks at you before shaking his head, a small laugh erupting from between his lips.

 “You and the goddamn silver lining,” he says, chuckling. 

 The summer sun beats down on the windswept landscape, the low bushes all vibrantly green as they fly by the window. It feels good, just the two of you. Well, three, technically. It reminds you of when you’d just started dating Ransom. Back when he’d only just started to feel safe showing you something other than the frat-boy facade. He reaches over to rest his hand on your belly. You aren’t showing yet, but the gesture still feels comforting. 

 You feel truly loved in this moment. Hopeful contentedness isn’t a feeling you are familiar with, and you bask in it as the two of you trade increasingly obscure inside jokes about things you’re sure no one but the man sitting in the car with you would understand. The hours pass so quickly that by the time the two of you arrive, starving, in the small city about thirty minutes from the resort, you’re almost shocked to be there. 

 Ransom pulls into an open spot after going around a few times, and the two of you exit the vehicle, stretching. The classic architecture on the faces of the buildings makes your inner art historian jump for joy. You don’t do much with the degree now, and it makes you feel a little less wasteful to rattle off facts to Ransom at light-speed. He does you the courtesy of at least appearing to be interested, even if he’s not. You don’t have to work, not really. After your internship with the museum had come to an end at graduation, slowly, doing things with Ransom—and inevitably Lloyd—had begun to take up much of your time. 

 There was always an event to go to, a celebration to be had, a trip to take. In fact, the only thing that had seemed to slow the two of you down at all was the positive test taped proudly in the baby book Ransom was already starting with you. You’re honestly a little grateful for the opportunity to take it easy, even if you don’t exactly voice that to Ransom, and perhaps take the space to figure out just what you want your future to look like. 

 After stopping at one of the carts, the two of you sit on the lip of the aged fountain at the center of the square. Ransom trades you a bite of his gyro for your falafel, and he brushes stray crumbs from your lips as he takes it back. You can’t help but smile up at him.

 This is perfect.

 You know it’s silly to think of fairytales and princes at your age, but you can’t help but feel swept off your feet. You don’t know that you’ve ever stopped feeling that way with Ransom. That new love tingle hasn’t gone away, not after two years of dating, and now almost two full years of marriage. 

 “Tell me about this fountain, brainiac,” he teases, grinning playfully down at you when you scowl. “Since you know everything.”

 “I do not,” you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you’re already smiling good naturedly. “But, I mean, at first glance, you know, it’s old.” You run your hand almost reverently along the stone. “There used to be more of them, you can tell if you look at the way the tiling’s messed up.” You point to different spots around the square where the mosaic tiles don’t quite match up, patches looking newer than the rest. 

 “I’m glad one of us was paying attention during those lectures.” 

 “Why were you even in Brown’s class if you’re that bored by art history?” You tease, and Ransom fixes you with a soft smile.

 “How else would I have met you?” 

 You finish your food and reluctantly head back to the car. You know that it’s just a matter of time before the little bubble that’s formed around the two of you is burst by the presence of other people, and you find yourself feeling a little resentful of Lloyd and your sister before you attempt to brush it off. Still, you’re a little pouty by the time you get back to the car, enough that Ransom notices. 

 “Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you were having a great day?” He asks. You sigh as you start back up the gps, shrugging. He rolls his eyes at your silence. “Come on.” 

 “It’s stupid.” 

 “That’s never stopped you before,” he teases, grinning when you scowl at him. 

 “I just, you know. I don’t… want it to be over yet.” You say, shaking your head at yourself. “It’s been nice. Just the two of us.” Absently, you pick at a loose thread near the seam of your leggings. “I guess    I’m just feeling a little… selfish.” It makes you feel childish to admit. It doesn’t help that Ransom flashes you a cheshire grin at your confession. 

 “Oh baby. You want me all to yourself?” He asks, running his tongue along his lips suggestively. His fingers dance up your leg, and he kneads the softness of your thigh with one large hand. 

 “What, the plane wasn’t enough?” You ask, a smirk of your own forming on your lips as he rolls his eyes. 

 “What? No,” he scoffs. “You know it’s not enough unless I get to stretch you open on my cock, sweetheart.” His casually delivered words send a hot pulse through your core even as your face heats. Ransom’s thumb rubs ever smaller circles into your skin through the leggings as he makes his way toward the apex of your thighs.

 You whine low in your throat, glancing out of the windows at the lonely road winding its way through the cliffside. Ransom swerves over onto the shoulder of the road, kicking up a cloud of dust from under the wheels as he does so. 

 “Ran, someone’ll—”

 “No one’s gonna see,” Ransom says, unbuckling his seatbelt. He reaches for you over the middle console, and after waffling for a moment, you clamor over it, settling yourself onto his lap. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you steady as he meets your lips with his own. It’s different from the desperate, hungry way he’d kissed you on the plane—you’re not sure how to describe it. Slow, deliberate—possessive. That’s what it is. Ransom kisses you like he owns you. Like he can afford to take his time because he already has you—why rush?

 It makes your cunt swell and twitch around nothing as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your fingers twining in his linen shirt. He smells so good, you can’t help but scrape your teeth against his skin as you trail light, teasing kisses down the side of his throat. Ransom chuckles low in his throat before his hands sink into your hair, tugging your head to the side as he does the same to you, sucking hard enough to bruise. 

 He slides his hands underneath your t-shirt, and he tugs down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling over the bunched fabric. Ransom rolls your swelling nipples between his fingers, a low hum of appreciation vibrating in his chest. Your breath catches in your throat as his mouth closes around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue before trapping it between his teeth. 

 “Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, his hands falling to your hips. He squeezes them almost reverently before he cups the cheeks of your ass in his hands. “Like you were goddamn made for me.” The brazen hunger in his words makes you shudder. Ransom holds you still as he bucks up, grinding his half hard cock into the warmth between your thighs. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying it as he guides you slowly back and forth over his cock. 

 You reach between your bodies, fumbling with the button on his jeans. It comes open after a few tries, and you shove your hand through the hole. A growled curse falls from his lips as you wrap your hand around his cock. He’s thick, the veins throbbing under your fingers as you stroke him. You draw your thumb across the thick, wet head of him, and he groans. He thrusts softly into your palm, his breath puffing across your cheek.

 “Tease,” he rasps, his fingers tangling in your hair again as he forces your mouth down to his. His other hand bunches in the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down to your knees. You yelp as his palm cracks across the cheek of your ass. He kneads the sore flesh before delivering a second slap. You press your face into the crook of Ransom’s neck, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as he spreads your cheeks lewdly, his fingers sliding through the sticky wetness gathered there. 

 Ransom grabs your hand, tugging it away so that he can reposition himself at your entrance. You’d cum on the plane, but something about doing it on your husband’s cock was especially satisfying—and Ransom knew it too. You suck a sharp breath into your lungs as he begins to press your hips downward.

 It’s delicious, the stretch of him filling you inch by inch until it feels like you can’t fit any more—and then you’re seated on his lap again, your leggings rucked up and stretched so far you can hear a few of the elastic threads snapping. Ransom hums low in his throat, and gives a few short thrusts upward, and your eyes roll. 

 “God, Ransom—” He lifts you up before slamming you back down to the base. 

 “Feels good, doesn’t it, Sweetheart?” He coos, and you tighten around him at the praise. “Feels right.” He grinds his hips upward, forcing his cock even further into you. It does, it feels so good you can’t help but stare back at him, wide eyed as you nod desperately. 

 Despite your surroundings, Ransom takes his time. He thrusts up into you with languid, heavy strokes, seating himself firmly in your cunt with curses and deep satisfied moans. 

 “Fucking love how you feel inside,” he says through gritted teeth as his cock forces you open. “Like velvet.” Your head is spinning, your fingers digging into his shoulders as Ransom pushes you closer and closer. You whimper as he continues to egg you on in that teasing drawl. 

“S’my fucking cunt, isn’t she?” You couldn’t help but nod dumbly. “Say it, Sweetheart. Say she’s mine, my pussy.” 

 “T-this is your pussy, Ransom,” the words come out in a pathetic little sob as you grind against him. “Yours!”

 Your agreement seems to unlock something feral in him, and he drives into you with forceful intensity. You bury your face in his collar, gasping. It’s all you can do as he fucks into you with abandon, the car rocking with his efforts. You’re not thinking about that, though, not when every time he sinks the thick, heavy weight of his cock into you, stars explode behind your closed eyelids. He slams into you with a growl, his fingers digging into your hips. 

 “You should cum, Sweetheart,” he says lowly through his clenched teeth. “Wanna feel you fucking milk my cock.” You do, whining as you convulse in his arms. He groans, fucking up into you as you twitch around him. “That’s it,” Ransom throws his head back against the headrest. “That’s what I fucking need.” He thrusts in to the hilt, the head of his cock pressing tightly your cervix as he cums. You can feel every thick pulse as sticky warmth fills you. 

 Ransom makes a low, satisfied noise in the back of his throat as he rubs soft circles into your lower back. After a while, he presses a kiss into your hair, and you sigh. 

 “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” he says, laughing a little breathlessly. “Now we’re late, and a mess.” You can’t help but laugh too, punching his shoulder lightly. 

 “I think I liked that more than I would have in the airplane bathroom,” you say, and Ransom cocks his head at you, as though the little inside joke has gone over his head. 

 “What?”

 “You know,” you say as you begin to straighten your clothes. “What you said, on the plane? The bathroom?” 

 “Oh, yeah. Well, you know. A little more space here in the car,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you. Your husband frowns petulantly as you right your bra and pull down your shirt. You attempt to climb off of him, but slip, your sweaty palm sliding on the center console. “Easy, there. I know I’ve rendered you quite useless—”

 “Shut the hell up, Ransom.”

 “But I think I have some napkins around here somewhere.” You grimace as your thighs rub together wetly.

 “I hope it’s more than some.”

 —

 As the two of you approach the gate, you suddenly feel like the word “hotel” is an inaccurate descriptor for what you’re seeing. There’s security stationed at either side of the white stone pillars, and one of them cracks the golden gate open just enough to slide through the gap. He jogs up to the driver’s side window, and pantomimes for Ransom to lower it. You are only peripherally aware of Ransom showing him your reservation—you’re much more preoccupied with the view. 

 The sea sparkles in the late afternoon sun, crashing against the rocky shore to your left. The water is clear and blue, winking merrily at you as you pass through the gate. Trees line the hard-packed dirt road, but as you round a curve, the path opens up into a courtyard with a small fountain. You were expecting a central building, a gigantic resort with all of the amenities—instead, you’re greeted by the sight of cabanas. They look like fairly new constructions, all polished wood and clean lines. 

 You hop out of the car after Ransom, intending to make your way around to the trunk and grab your bag, but the shrill sound of your own name stops you. You look up just in time to see your sister hurtling towards you. You have only a split second to ready yourself for her impact before she crashes into you like a many-limbed bullet. 

 “I’m so happy to see you!” She squeals, hugging you so tightly you swear you hear bone crack. Your little sister holds on for another moment or two before releasing you. She peeks around the car to address Ransom, who is still wrestling the suitcases out of the trunk. “You got this right? I’m taking her.” She loops her arm through yours. 

 “What, I don’t get the tour?” Ransom asks, closing the trunk of the car firmly. “I’m hurt.” 

 “How am I supposed to get her to talk about you if you’re there?” Nathalie quips, smiling widely when Ransom rolls his eyes. “I’ll return her in one piece, I promise,” she says, grabbing you by the shoulders and steering you away. 

 You shoot Ransom a rather apologetic smile over your shoulder, but allow your sister to direct you towards the cabanas. There are four of them total, ringing the little courtyard. You find yourself idly wondering how everyone’s going to fit—your parents, Ransom and Lloyd’s, plus their extended family. It seems a little… small for all of that. Regardless, the thought is pushed from your head as your sister drags you into the one she’s claimed as her own. The little covered porch leads to a well decorated room. It’s large, a canopied bed on one side of the room, and a small kitchenette on the other. In the center of the room, the little sitting area is dominated by Nathalie’s clothes. They’re spread haphazardly over all of the seats in random outfit combinations, the discarded items littering the floor. 

 She hugs you again before the two of you perch on the raised barstools in front of the breakfast bar. 

 “God, I missed you,” she says. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since your birthday party.” 

 “It hasn’t been that long,” you object, reaching for one of the complementary water bottles still sitting in the basket on the counter in front of you. “My birthday was only—” You pause to count on your hand. Three months ago. Shit. She raises an eyebrow, cocking her head to illustrate her point. You hold your hands up placatingly. “Okay, okay, it’s been a while. We’ve just been busy.”

 “What, all of a sudden you’ve got too many vineyard openings to go to? We miss you, you know.” She teases. There’s a grain of salt clinging to her words though, and you can’t help but feel guilty. You hadn’t meant to let your other relationships slide in the wake of your marriage. It was just easy to fall into the pattern of well, just you and Ransom. You feel even guiltier about the earlier resentment you’d felt, swallowing against the sudden thickness in your throat. 

 “Anyway. It’s good to see you.” 

 “You too.” You sigh. “So, why no Jaiden? I would think this would be like, the perfect couple getaway for you two.” You waggle your eyebrows, and she scoffs, shoving you. “

 “I told you, we’re—”

 “Not doing labels,” you imitate her, making air quotes with your fingers. 

 “Exactly. I don’t want him getting all attached just because he met mom.” She hops off of the stool, and walks around the other side of the counter to the fridge. “You want some prosecco? There was some in the mini bar.” You can’t help but snort as she pulls the bottle from the otherwise empty fridge door. 

 “That’s definitely not mini.” 

 “I know, right?” She giggles, opening the cabinets as she looks for glasses. 

 “I’m not drinking, actually,” you reply as she sets one in front of you. You watch the bubbles fizz and then disappear as the pours the alcohol into one of the glasses. Nathalie raises an eyebrow.

 “Not drinking? What are you sick or something? We’re on vacation, girl!” She pours you half a glass, and pushes it back towards you. “Come on, let’s party!” She takes a sip and sighs with exaggerated satisfaction. “Get a little drinky-drink in you, and then we’ll walk down to the beach, it’s gorgeous.” 

 “I can’t, Nat,” you say, this time pushing it away with force. “Seriously, just drop it.” She squints at you, before snatching it up with a sigh. She combines it with her own glass, making it dangerously full before she takes an appreciative sip. 

 “Fine, fine, weirdo. What are you, pregnant?” She says, laughing as she takes another sizable gulp. You swallow thickly as a thousand responses all rush to your tongue, each trying to leap out of your throat first. A joking What? no, comes to mind, as does a shocked You can’t be serious! But neither of those reaches your gaping mouth. You sputter, trying to think of what to say as her eyes widen. 

 “Oh my God you are! You’re fucking pregnant?” She shrieks, and you grab her arm, shushing her. “Ow!”

 “Keep your stupid voice down, Nat!” You hiss, glancing around the empty room like you’re expecting Ransom to emerge from behind the ottoman with a disapproving frown. “Shit.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m not supposed to tell anybody, Nat.” 

 “Technically I guessed.”

 “Yeah, you and Lloyd have that in common,” you mutter, glaring at her. Nathalie doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic, instead, taking another sip of Prosecco. 

 “I knew there was a reason to celebrate,” she giggles, and you groan. “Ugh, Lloyd.” She grimaces. “I saw him sulking by the pool earlier. He’s a real prick when he’s upset, you know that?”

 “He’s a real prick all the time,” you mutter. “You saw him? He’s here?”

 “Oh he’s here alright,” Nathalie says, swirling the Prosecco in her glass conspiratorially. “I don’t know what had his panties all in a bunch, but he practically bowled me over.”  She rolled her eyes. “Weird ass.” 

 “Hey, he paid for your tickets,” you remind her, and Nathalie shrugs. 

 “A weird ass with money, then.” You can’t help but giggle at her irreverence. “Come on, let me show you the beach!” She downs the rest of her drink in a few swallows while you use the bathroom, and then you follow her out of the little back door. “Isn’t this view unbeatable?” 

 You find you can’t disagree. The well manicured grass leading up to the fenced overlook is something to behold—the sea glitters aquamarine beyond it, the sun hanging low and orange in the sky. Nathalie leads you over to a set of steps, carved straight out of the rock. They’re a little slippery, but the railing is well constructed, so you manage just fine as you make your way down to the shore. It’s like a postcard, you think as your feet sink into the warm white sand. If Lloyd had spent fifteen thousand dollars on a bracelet, you can’t help but wonder what he spent on this. 

 I don’t even want to know.

 “Isn’t it amazing? Like oh my God.” Nathalie kicks up a little sand. “In case I’ve forgotten, thanks for marrying a millionaire.” She giggles as you shove her, and she takes off toward the water. You watch her head down the beach, content to stand with your feet in the surf. 

 “The prodigal daughter returns.” Lloyd’s low drawl is unexpected, and you turn with a little gasp. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

 “I guess you’re just good at it.” You say with a thin smile. “This place is amazing, Lloyd, thank you for inviting us.” It’s the graceful acknowledgement you’ve practiced, and he looks pleased to hear it. 

 “You’re welcome.” His grin turns brazen. “Better late than never, am I right?” Perhaps it’s the hormones, the flight, or the drive, but you feel less than inclined to brush off his implication. 

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask irritatedly, and he licks his lips. 

 “Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds his hands up placatingly, exaggerating the movements. “If you and Ransom found a sweet little roadside attraction, who am I to say a thing about it?” Your face heats with embarrassment and anger, and when you open your mouth to respond, at first no sound comes out. 

 “You—”

 “Oh, hey. Lloyd.” Nathalie’s flat intonation takes the wind right out of your sails as she jogs back over. “Thanks again for inviting, you know, the extended fam,” she says, looping her arm through yours. “It’s seriously the coolest place I have ever been.” 

 “No need to thank me,” he says smoothly, shaking his head as his eyes light on yours again. “Like I told your sister. I do for my family.” He flashes a charming smile at the both of you. “Glad you’re enjoying yourselves.” He sticks his hands into his pockets, his thumbs hanging lazily on his belt loops as he heads off down the beach, whistling. 

 Nathalie grimaces. “I saw him and figured I better come back,” she says, squeezing your arm. “Weird ass.” The two of you watch him go, and you shudder, a sudden cool breeze kicking up off the water. 

 “Yeah,” you say softly. “Weird.” 

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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[rainisawriter]

A Halloween Miracle – Ice (PSF #16)

PSF Ficography | H&F Flash Ficography

Genre: Fluff, romance, slice of life

Prompt: Wearing each other’s clothes (@flufftober) / Dare: Make a donation to the food bank (@slumberpartybingo Fall Flash)

Word Count: 5,228

Pairing: Reader x Ice

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You checked your reflection in the mirror again, biting your lip nervously. It wasn’t your first date with Ice yet it felt as if it was. How could you not feel at least a bit self-conscious with him, though? He was such a beautiful man with an incredible, and expensive, sense of fashion. 

Not to mention how strong he is or how much money he has. You were his complete opposite. Fashion meant nothing to you and you were perfectly happy just wearing loose, comfortable clothing. You never spent more than fifty bucks on an article of clothing, not just because it felt wrong, but also because you didn’t have that kind of spare cash to blow.

Ice oftentimes tried to buy you things but you always told him no. You felt wrong accepting gifts from him, especially since he seemed to choose the most expensive gifts possible. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were a gold digger, just dating him for his money.

You even insisted on paying your half of the bill when he took you out to dinner, something that really frustrated him. He knew you worked hard for your money and that it was always tight for you, yet you insisted on paying.

The first time you had gone out together, he had chosen an expensive restaurant and you ended up not having enough to pay for your half. It was one of the most embarrassing nights of your life and you still hate thinking about it.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your keys and headed outside to wait for Ice to arrive. The cold autumn air curled around you like a blanket, bringing goosebumps to your skin and a smile to your face. Autumn was your favorite time of year and you loved the cold.

Ice’s black Bentley pulled up to the curb and he stepped out, smiling when he saw you. “Hey, baby,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to your cheek before leading you to the passenger’s side, pulling the door open for you. As soon as you were safely inside, he closed the door and returned to the driver’s seat.

When you first met Ice, you saw how viciously he fought, how cruel he could be. You never would have imagined that he could be such a gentleman, that he could be so soft and kind to you. 

“Where do you want to go?” He questioned, taking your hand in his, fingers lacing together.

You bit your lip, knowing how drastically your interests were. A good date to him was an expensive restaurant before heading to the club to party. A good date to you was staying indoors and watching a movie or going for a walk together at the park.

He waited patiently for you to answer, rubbing his thumb against your hand.

“Can we… visit the autumn fair?” you asked softly.

“Sure.” He pressed a kiss to your hand before putting the car in park and pulling away from the curb. Music was playing softly in the background, the heater turned on low to stave off the chill.

You shifted against the leather seat, turning your gaze to the window as the city passed by in a blur of silver and orange. It didn’t take long to reach the fair and the place was packed, mostly with families and their kids. You felt guilty forcing him to come here and it honestly made you feel a bit childish.

As you climbed out of the car, you offered him a sheepish smile. “If you don’t want to be here, we can go somewhere else…?”

Ice just smiled, putting his arm around your shoulders and tugging you against his side. “Nah. I haven’t been to a fair in years, it’ll be a nice change.”

“Are you sure?”

His dark eyes met yours, fingers pushing your chin up so he could claim your lips. “Positive, baby.”

You nodded, a smile slipping onto your face. He let you take the lead, following you around as you bounced from one ride to the next, tackling each game booth that they had. You weren’t very good at them, not once winning a prize, but Ice dominated each one, allowing you to choose the item you wanted. 

The loud sounds of the rides along with the sea of people was enough to cover the soft thunder above, the night sky slowly filling with dark clouds. Though it felt as if you had been there for only a few minutes, several hours passed by and the fair was getting ready to close. Most of the families had already cleared out, leaving only couples and groups of teens.

The wind was picking up, the temperature dropping as rain approached. Despite loving the cold, you were starting to shiver. You regretted not wearing your hoodie, but you worried Ice wouldn’t like the way it looked on you because it was baggy and quite old.

He shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils and you smiled, sticking your arms through the sleeves. It was still warm from his body.

“Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I can’t let my baby get sick. Let’s get you home before the rain starts.”

“Okay.” You followed him back to the car, sliding into the passenger seat. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun.”

He quirked a brow at you before returning his eyes to the road. “When are you going to stop thanking me for taking you on dates?”

“At least once more, Mr. Ice,” you grinned, quoting the Pirates of the Caribbean. It was the movie you both watched on your first date, so it held a special place in your heart. It was also just a really good movie.

Ice chuckled, a smile coming to his lips as he thought back to that day. It had started out as a disaster of a blind date, set up by your friend who Pearl was desperately trying to get with. Bernie was supposed to be your date but he got food poisoning at the last minute. Everyone else was busy except for Jesse and Ice, the former flat-out refusing.

Ice didn’t want to go, either, but Pearl was his family and he needed help so the leader agreed. 

He honestly didn’t think much of you, at first. Despite being at a club, you were wearing baggy shorts, a hoodie, and sneakers. You had no interest in dancing or drinking and you acted as if you wanted to be anywhere else. He thought you were cute, but you were nothing compared to the hotties he usually pulled.

He expected the night to pass by in awkward silence, but you tried to get to know him, striking up a conversation repeatedly even when it died out. Usually his dates were all over him by now, complimenting his watch, the diamonds in his ears or the chain around his neck. You didn’t care about any of that. Even when he told you that he owned a club and a bunch of expensive cars, you weren’t interested.

When he mentioned his music, though, you became very interested. You had always admired musicians, not just for their talent but for their confidence. They bore their souls for the world to see and they did so proudly despite the fear of rejection. Ice was surprised by just how animated you became when discussing the topic and, as the night wore on, he began to warm up to you.

He offered to take you home when it became glaringly obvious that you no longer wanted to be inside the club. Rather than fawn over his expensive car, you were hesitant to even look at it for fear of somehow messing it up. He thought it was cute how he had to coax you inside, assuring you that it was highly unlikely that you would.

He found himself driving slower than he needed to because he was enjoying spending time with you. You were so different from the people he usually hung around with and it was refreshing to him. He remembers how relieved he had felt when you spotted the sign for the drive-in movie theater. It was playing the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie and you asked him if he would be interested.

You were surprised when he said yes but you certainly weren’t complaining. He was not your type at all, yet you felt drawn to him, drawn to the strong aura he possessed. You weren’t sure why but you felt safe around him, comfortable even. That’s not to say you also didn’t feel nervous, as well, given the extreme differences between you, but he just had this way of making you completely forget about your worries for a time.

“What are you grinning about?” He wondered, quirking a brow at you as he pulled up in front of your house.

“I was just thinking about the day we met,” you replied, sending him a soft smile. “Things didn’t start out too well, but I’m happy with how it ended.”

He smirked, reaching over to grip your chin in his hand. “Just how happy are you, hm?”

“Very,” you breathed out, finding yourself leaning toward him. 

“Show me,” he ordered, lips brushing against your own. A sudden clap of thunder rattled the car windows and made you jump, heart racing within your chest. He clicked his tongue. “The rain’s about to start, you should get inside.”

“Right…” You stepped out of the vehicle, heading toward the door with him close behind. You reached into your pocket for your keys only to frown when they weren’t there. You checked your other pocket but they weren’t there either. Dread filled you. “Shit…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost my keys…” you sent him a panicked look and he rested his large hand on top of your head, giving you a calming look.

“You probably dropped them in the car.”

The two of you started back toward the car when the thunder boomed again. The sky opened up, sheets of rain falling down on top of you. You cried out in surprise when the ice-cold water hit you, easily soaking through the t-shirt you wore.

“Get in!” Ice ordered, rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you despite his designer clothes getting soaked. When he finally made it inside, you frowned at the water dripping down his face.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, lowering your head.

“For what?” He quirked a brow at you in confusion.

“You got wet because I lost my keys… and now your seats are gonna be ruined…”

He chuckled, his voice soft. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you see them?”

“Oh, um…” you started to feel between the seats, looking on the floor and reaching beneath the seat but your keys were nowhere in sight. “They’re not here. Oh my god, what am I going to do? My roommate won’t be back until tomorrow night!”

“Hey, calm down,” he called softly, resting his hand against the back of your neck. “You can stay with me tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He started up the car, pulling away from the curb.

The closer you got to his apartment, the more nervous you became. You hadn’t ever been to his place before and now you were gonna be staying the night. You took a few deep breaths, hands clenching and unclenching as you tried to calm yourself down.

The apartment building was just as you expected – a twenty-five-story building that sat in the eastern district of the city. It’s where all the rich people lived and the air just felt different there, though it was hard to explain why. 

“Welcome back, Ice-sama.” The old man at the reception desk bowed to him but the male didn’t spare him a glance as he approached the elevator. 

You hugged yourself tightly, feeling super uncomfortable between the wet clothes clinging to you, your missing keys and the fear of spending the night at Ice’s place. You were honestly scared that he would expect something from you in return and you just weren’t ready for that. 

His apartment was huge, filled with expensive-looking furniture and decorations, most of which were music-themed. “The bathroom is down the hall. Go take a shower and I’ll find you something to wear.”

You swallowed nervously, watching as he disappeared down the opposite hall. You knew you had to get out of these clothes and a warm shower sounded lovely right about now, but were you really okay being naked in his apartment? And he was going to bring you some clothes… what if he decided to join you?

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you entered the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Your hands trembled as you undressed, but you couldn’t be sure if it was because of the cold or the nerves. Probably both.

You slowly slid the clothes off your body, turning on the water so it could warm up.

There was a knock on the door and you tensed, waiting for him to try the doorknob but he didn’t. “Baby, I’m gonna leave the clothes on the table, okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Thank you.” You pressed your ear to the door, listening to his footsteps fade before you cracked open the door, snatching up the clothes before shutting the door again. You showered quickly and started to get dressed.

His scent lingered on the clothes, mixed with the smell of the laundry detergent, and you inhaled deeply, feeling a wave of calm wash over you. You picked up your wet clothes, not wanting to just leave them on the floor.

Ice was sitting on the sofa, changed into grey sweatpants and a black shirt that hugged his body. A towel sat around his neck as he dried his short hair. You assumed there were two bathrooms and he had used the other one.

“Um,” you shifted nervously in the doorway when he looked up at you. “Where should I put these?”

“Here, I’ll take them.” He pulled himself off the sofa, taking the wad of clothes from your hands before disappearing down the hall. He returned a moment later, confused as to why you hadn’t moved. His hand found the small of your back, gently pushing you toward the sofa. 

You felt as if you should say something but your mind was drawing blanks, too preoccupied with the rising nerves within your system. He settled down beside you, putting his arm around you to pull you closer.

“I have a surprise for you, baby,” he commented softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You watched curiously as he picked up the remote, turning on the TV. you recognized the music immediately, eyes snapping over to see the menu screen for the Pirates of the Caribbean. A bright smile came to your lips and he could feel the tension leaving your body.

“After our first date, I ordered the limited edition set.”

“Limited edition?” Your wide eyes fell on him, knowing exactly what he meant. “But that thing is like 300 bucks!”

He hummed, fingers brushing against the back of your neck. “It was worth it. I’ll show you the set later, if you want.”

“Please! I was eyeing it for ages but they stopped selling it by the time I saved up enough.” You shook your head, folding your arms over your chest.

Ice hummed again as he pressed play, already knowing what he wanted to do. A soft smile came to his lips as he watched your eyes light up, focused completely on the TV screen. He felt so much love for you in his heart and it felt so foreign to him. He had hated it at first because it scared him, but now he craved more.

He pulled you even closer until you were practically on his lap, arms wrapping around your waist. You leaned into his warmth, head resting on his firm chest. 

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing against your cheek, feeling your skin grow warm.

“I love you, too,” you breathed out, hands resting over his arms.

You made it through three movies before you started yawning and Ice suggested it was time for bed. He didn’t think twice about sharing the bed with you because you were dating, you had been for a while, but you were nervous as hell.

Truth be told, you were a virgin who had never gone beyond kissing anyone before. You figured Ice was the opposite, having quite a few notches in his belt. That didn’t bother you, it was long before you started dating, but you assumed he had an expectation. How long was too long to date without getting intimate? You knew you weren’t ready but you were afraid he might leave you if you refused him.

Your heart raced within your chest as he led you into his bedroom. The bed was huge, fit for a king, with a plush black and white comforter. As he pulled back the covers, he took notice of how tense you were and a frown tugged at his lips. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” you replied quickly, forcing a smile. 

He knew you were lying. He said your name, hand on his hip. “Tell me.”

You shifted nervously under his piercing gaze, mumbling under your breath.

“What?” He stepped closer to you. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

You screwed your eyes shut, fists clenching at your sides. “I-I’m a virgin!”

Ice was both taken aback and confused. He knew you were vastly different from the people he usually dated, but a virgin? He definitely hadn’t expected that. Why were you suddenly bringing it up, though? At first, he thought that you trusted him enough to confide such information to him.

His eyes scanned your tense body, taking in the way your fists trembled slightly, how your eyes remained closed, and the deep frown that marred your face. He knew he was wrong. You weren’t confiding in him, you were worried about it.

“Baby,” he called out softly, closing the distance and resting his hands on your upper arms. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You slowly peeled open your eyes, expecting to see him looking annoyed to some degree, but his eyes were filled with warmth. “You’re… you’re really okay with it?”

“Of course, I am. What kind of person do you think I am?” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he was hurt that your mind had even gone there.

“I’m sorry, I…”

Ice exhaled sharply to calm himself before pulling you into his arms. Despite the tense situation, he felt you relax in his grip. “I love you and I’m just happy spending time with you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but you have to tell me what those things are, understand?”

You nodded, fingers curling around his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let’s get some sleep, okay?” He paused as he considered his words. “Unless you’d like to sleep in the guest room instead?”

“No,” you mumbled against his chest, cheeks darkening. “I wanna stay with you.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Whatever you want, baby.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Sun streamed through the cracks in the curtains and you shifted, eyes fluttering open. You instantly felt the lack of Ice’s presence behind you, his side of the bed cols to the touch. With a yawn, you crawled out of bed to search for him but the apartment was empty. Upon checking your phone, you found a new message from him.

-> Had to go deal with a problem at the club. Stay as long as you want, baby.

You quickly messaged back, telling him that you hoped everything was okay. It felt strange being alone in his apartment and, truth be told, you felt kind of happy that he trusted you around all of his items. He had more faith in you than you had in yourself because you feared you would break whatever you touched.

You glanced at the clock and cursed. It was almost time for your shift at the food bank so you needed to hurry up and get ready. You searched for your clothes, finding them in the laundry room. He had tossed them in the washer but hadn’t turned it on and you didn’t have enough time to do it yourself.

You bit your lip, tugging your phone from your pocket. He still hadn’t responded to you so you hesitated to send another. You knew you had no choice but to wear his clothes if you wanted to get to the food bank on time. If you asked to borrow his clothes but he didn’t reply immediately, only to say no later, it would be awkward as hell when he found out you had done it anyway. 

“Damn it,” you cursed, returning to his room. 

His closet opened up into the next room, overflowing with fashionable clothes from brands you couldn’t even pronounce. Your eyes scanned the items as you slowly walked through the room, looking for something that was close to your style but also something that didn’t look as if it cost a couple of grand.

You found a basketball jersey that was big on you but super comfortable, along with a pair of jeans that had a hole on the left knee. You assumed they were old and not worth much because of it. They were also big on you and you had to roll up the pant legs so they weren’t dragging against the ground. Securing them with a belt, you nodded in satisfaction before grabbing your shoes and leaving the apartment.

Ice had left a spare key for you on the table so you were able to lock the door behind you. 

Taking a deep breath of the cold autumn air, you smiled and started to run down the sidewalk, leaves crunching beneath your feet. Because of how far the food bank was from the upper district, you were three minutes late for your shift. 

The other volunteers jumped in surprise when you slammed the door open, breathing heavily as your lungs tried to suck in air. Your side was in stitches, heart beating hard against your ribs and your legs felt like jelly.

“You’re late,” scolded Mako, eyes narrowed and arms folded over his chest.

“S-Sorry!” you quickly bowed to him before rushing over to your station.

“Our doors open in five minutes!” he announced, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. “Remember to be kind. These people are struggling and are hungry. Kind smiles, soft words. Be polite!”

The food bank was a large rectangular building divided down the center. On the right side was the kitchen where the homeless could come and get some freshly made soup to fill their bellies. On the left was the food bank where you worked, handing out groceries to families who couldn’t afford the overly priced items at the store.

Kai, your friend and coworker, leaned toward you with a frown. “How are we supposed to act cheery when we’re nearly out of food?”

“Eh?” You looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“The supply truck was robbed and all the food was taken. We have enough for maybe two days, depending on how many people show up.”

A frown tugged at your lips, a sad feeling settling in your gut. You were forced to push those negative feelings away as the doors were opened and people began to flood the building. You forced a smile as you greeted the woman at the front of the line, trying not to worry too much.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Oi, are you still alive?” Sarah snapped her fingers in front of your face, knocking you from your thoughts. 

“Sorry,” you sent her an apologetic look. “What were you saying?”

The two of you were relaxing at the back of the club, far removed from the crowd of people dancing and drinking. The walls were thick enough to block most of the sound, though you could still hear the faint bumping of the bass.

She hummed, sitting back on the couch and crossing her legs. “You’ve been distracted all day. Did you fight with Ice or something?”

“No, of course not!” you replied quickly, holding your hands up as if in surrender. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Honestly, you doubted she would care but you needed to get it off your chest because you couldn’t stop worrying about it. “I work at the food bank downtown.”

She sent you a surprised look which you didn’t notice because you were staring at your lap. She knew you had a job and did odd jobs sometimes for extra cash, something she found strange. She had grown to know Ice well and she had been surprised to learn that he wasn’t taking care of you. 

She had no idea that, when you weren’t working, you were volunteering. She briefly wondered if Ice knew.

“The supply truck was attacked and we barely have enough food left for tomorrow. What are we going to do?” You frowned, running your hand through your hair in frustration. “All of us pooled together what little bit of money we had but it didn’t buy much. Donations have gone down a lot this year and I don’t know if we can recover from this.”

Sarah watched as you stood up with a groan, pacing back and forth. This was clearly something important to you but she didn’t even have to ask if you had told Ice. She knew you hadn’t because you feel bad using his money. Even if it was for a good cause, you felt guilty asking him to spend his money for you.

Sarah had no qualms about this, though.

She pulled herself off the couch, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

You gave her a grateful smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you and thank you for listening to me ramble.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Mako looked worried as he approached you, eyes glancing to the storage room behind you. He tugged you away from the line of people, lowering his voice. “How is it?”

You shook your head with a frown. “Not good. We have two loaves of bread, one gallon of milk, three boxes of cereal and a jar of peanut butter. There’s no way we can stretch that out for all of these people.”

Mako scowled in frustration, running a hand through his brown hair. “Shit. Did you call up everyone on that list I gave you?”

“Yes. All of them said they weren’t in a position to help us right now…”

“Of course not,” he huffed, folding his arms over his chest. “We’ve exhausted all of our options. We have no choice but to close our doors for now.”

“But, Mako-san -” You bit your lip, eyes scanning the room full of people that were waiting for their food. “We can’t just -“

“I know!” He snapped angrily, startling the people nearby. He sent them an apologetic look before leaning toward you. “I know that, but we don’t have any choice.” Mako took a few deep breaths before stepping over to the center of the room, clearing his throat. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

The soft voices of the crowd slowly disappeared until the room was silent, everyone staring at him. Your heart ached, the other employees exchanging sad looks because they already knew what he was going to say.

“A couple of days ago, the supply truck bringing us food for the next month was attacked and the food taken. Because of this…” He paused, biting his lip as the crowd shifted nervously, exchanging worried looks.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you tugged it out, seeing your boyfriend’s name on the screen. You tried your best not to sound sad or worried, turning your back to Mako as if that would block the sound. “I can’t talk right now, I’m -“

Ice cut you off. “Come outside, baby.“

“Huh?”

“Trust me.”

With a furrowed brow, you made your way through the crowd, stepping outside. You shivered as the cold wind wrapped around you, but that was the last thing on your mind. You instantly recognized the shiny supercars that sat in front of the food bank and your heart skipped a beat. What were the Mighty Warriors doing here?

The door to Ice’s car opened and he stepped out, eyes locking with yours. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned, watching as the others exited their vehicles and started to direct large box trucks into the parking lot. “What’s going on?”

His hands found your waist, a frown on his lips. “You should have told me.”

“Sarah told you, didn’t she?”

“Yes and I’m glad she did.”

The breath was knocked from your lungs when Bernie opened the back of the truck, revealing boxes upon boxes filled with food items. It was way more than what the food bank usually received in a month’s time.

“Ice,” you breathed out, tears stinging at your eyes. “That had to cost so much, I… I swear I’ll pay you back!”

He scoffed in disbelief. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Huh?” You looked at him in confusion, cheeks darkening when he took you by the chin, leaning his face toward your own.

“You’re mine, baby. Everything I own belongs to you, too. My money is your money and that?” His gaze flickered to the truck before finding yours again with an intensity you had only seen when he was fighting. “That is a small price to pay for your happiness.”

“Ice, I -“

He cut you off with his lips, hand pressing against the small of your back to bring your body against his. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck. 

Mako slowly stepped outside, his eyes wide as he watched the men carrying the boxes inside. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

The comment made you laugh, breaking the kiss. You sent your boyfriend an apologetic look before addressing Mako. “It’s October, Mako-san.”

“I know that,” he huffed, looking a bit embarrassed and intimidated by the large man you were standing next to. “But a Halloween miracle hardly has the same ring to it.”

“That’s fair,” you laughed, turning your attention back to your boyfriend.

He adored the way your eyes sparkled with happiness and love. He knew then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making you happy. 

His forehead rested against your own. “Move in with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Eh?”

“I want to live with you,” he explained softly, pulling you into a slow, sensual kiss. “For the rest of my life.”

Your cheeks burned at the implication of the words and you were unable to hold back your smile as you nodded, claiming his lips again.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch. 10/10)

October 30, 2023

Notes - I'm still alive! Honestly, this month has really taken it out of me, but I'm still kicking and that's all that matters. Not long after I posted about everything that's been happening, my car broke down on me, so that's not great, but I have a bicycle to get around to work and stuff, which is helping somewhat. For now, I'm staying optimistic and looking for a new vehicle, but I'm finally done with this chapter and I couldn't be more excited about that! Again, I'm sorry it took me so long to write this final part, but hopefully, 47 pages is enough to make up for all that time!

Chapter 10: Dancing Queen

Rays of golden light breached through tightly drawn curtains, the glow of early morning light forcing its way through the colored cotton blinds as the alarm clock beside the bed began its daily screech. Bleary blue eyes peeled open before scrunching shut again as Miles buried his face in his pillow. The night before, after the last camper left with their family, they had spent a few hours celebrating the end of the summer in the mess hall and had gotten back to their cabin around three in the morning. After having to carry Bentley to bed after he had fallen asleep in his bowl of melted ice cream and just barely making the effort to change before falling asleep, Miles was in no mood to be woken at seven on the dot.

It was his own fault, really. He could have turned his alarm off upon retiring to his room - he would have thrown the batteries across the room if he had taken the time to think about it - but he had barely had the thought to kick his shoes off before collapsing on his mattress in the wee hours of the morning. Lifting his head from the pillow he curled up on at some point in the maybe four hours since he fell asleep, Miles glared at the beeping clock on his nightstand. Pulling his arm from under the pillow, he lifted it lazily and reached over to the clock before slapping the top of it, effectively silencing the bane of his existence. 

With a soft sigh at the silence that filled the room, he opened the panel at the bottom, pried the batteries out of the clock, and disposed of them in the drawer before setting the clock back down and slumping back into the pillow he had scrunched into a ball. The pull of sleep was strong and, while all Miles wanted to do was curl back up, bury his face in his pillow, and let sleep claim him once more, he and Butchy had promised Royce and Bentley that they would take them to the mall to shop for Vivien’s birthday. He had no intentions of letting them down despite the exhaustion settling in his bones. 

While they had most everything already set aside, they needed some things for the party they had been told about the night before - something small and intimate that Vivien’s grandparents planned to host at their house. With grumbling complaints and aching limbs that had remained twisted in his sheets for the majority of his time asleep, Miles pushed himself to sit up, slowly stretching himself out before running his hands through his hair. The slowness with which he moved made Miles feel as though he was in his eighties - and, if his birthdate was anything to go by, he was - but as he glanced in the mirror across from his nightstand, he was glad to see he was still just a twenty-one-year-old. A sore, exhausted, far-too-mature-for-his-age twenty-one-year-old, but a twenty-one-year-old all the same.

Standing from his bed, he made his way to the mirror and slowly pulled his shirt off, examining the trio of bruises on his otherwise pale skin. The reddish-purple spots near his collar bones where Bentley’s bony elbows had dug in during his piggyback ride to the cabin were still sore and tender as he prodded them. He was sure the bruise on his hip was from where he had collided with the doorknob on his way out of his youngest brother’s room, but he felt as though he’d been hit with a truck at some point. Maybe it was just the exhaustion washing over him. Maybe it would all go away with time.

Tugging his shirt back on with a huff, Miles rubbed his eyes with his fists and made his way out of his bedroom, leaving the door open on his way into the living room. Glancing around the room and muttering a half-awake greeting to the occupants found within, Miles felt his eyebrow tugging upward as his head listed to the side. Three distinct troublemakers were nowhere to be found. Normally, when he made his way to the living room, Bentley would start pestering him for some abhorrent concoction while Royce muttered his disgust at his brother’s choices and Vivien harassed him for sleeping in or his alarm being just as obnoxious as his voice. However, Carrie’s door was still shut, and the only people in the living room were Mick and Butchy, the latter’s slumbering figure curled into his wife as she read.

Finding Mick’s amber eyes from over the top of her book, he softly asked, “Where are the kids?”

The brunette shrugged as she ran a hand through her husband’s hair, “I don’t think they’ve come down yet.”

Only further confused, Miles glanced toward the front windows and asked, “Are you sure they’re not outside?”

“Not unless they shimmied down the drain pipe,” she claimed. “I’ve been out here since five-thirty.”

Miles inwardly cringed at the thought of only getting two hours of sleep, but thanked the younger girl before making his way to the stairs, climbing them as quietly as he could so as to not wake anyone still fast asleep. Riven’s door across from the landing was open and Miles could see him messing around with his keyboard, a pair of headphones plugged into the instrument to keep the music from bothering anybody, and a notebook thick with scribbled writing next to him. With nobody else in the room, Miles continued onward, finding the door to Bentley’s room wide open. Leaning into the room, Miles quickly found it empty and rounded the banister toward the last two rooms on the upper floor.

From the hallway, Miles could see into Royce’s room. Unlike Bentley’s, the bed was made and the window was open to allow fresh air in throughout the day - evidence that he was already awake. Something Miles had to get accustomed to while Vivien resided in their house during vacation, was her leaving the door wide open all night. His brothers kept the door closed as the rattling of their ancient refrigerator knocking against the wall kept Royce up, and he left his door closed more out of habit than anything. Vivien, however, kept her door open for the most part. So, as he approached the last doorway in the hall, Miles kept close to the wall and knocked on the frame.

“Yeah?” a croaked voice responded.

“It’s me,” Miles began. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Stepping across the threshold of the room, Miles couldn’t fight the grin that tugged at his lips. Royce was propped up against the headboard with a book in one hand and Vivien’s hair tangled around the other as she leaned against him. Bentley was on his back at the foot of the bed, his head just inches away from dangling off the side as one of Vivien’s legs was propped up on his stomach. The blanket covering the trio was a crocheted one that Mick had taken with her but relinquished to the children, and while it covered them all in some way, it was evident that none of them felt it necessary to stay warm.

“Hey,” Vivien croaked, offering the oldest of the brothers a wave as he stepped closer.

“Jeez, kiddo, you sound like shit,” Miles mused.

“Thanks,” she chuckled.

Bentley beamed, “I told her she sounds like that science teacher back home.”

“Huxley or Parker?” Miles questioned.

With a scoff, Bentley rolled his eyes, “We all know I don’t have the grades to qualify for Huxley’s class.”

Miles chuckled, “She does kind of sound like Pack-A-Day Parker.” 

“I hated her class,” Royce mused. “She had to keep a window open all winter just so she could smoke during tests.”

Vivien cleared her throat before saying, “Be grateful you guys don’t get snow.”

Bentley let out a snort of laughter and Royce smirked as Miles sat on the edge of the bed and asked, “So, why do you sound like that? You practiced all week and never sounded this bad.”

“I didn’t drink anything last night to help my throat,” Vivien shrugged. “It’ll go away sooner or later.”

“Not if you keep talking,” Royce sighed, sending his girlfriend a look as she stuck her tongue out at him. Rolling his eyes, Royce met Miles’ gaze and said, “She’s staying in bed today.”

“Or on the couch,” Bentley commented as Vivien opened her mouth to argue, earning him a grateful nod from the girl.

“How come?” Miles asked.

Instead of answering, Vivien shifted, lifting her left leg from Bentley’s abdomen and tugging it out from under the blanket before lifting it so Miles could see. Shades of angry red and deep violet circled around the girl’s ankle while faint speckles of bruising dotted her foot. Miles winced as he took in the rainbow of discoloration on the teen’s skin. Like Miles had been at her age, Vivien was accident-prone and, while he knew just how easily her skin turned colors, he hadn’t expected her to look this bad when she walked herself back to the cabin the night before. Last he knew, she was fine. She had complained that her feet were sore, sure, but she had quickly brushed it off and hobbled her way upstairs.

“What on earth did you do this time?” Miles asked as Vivien lowered her leg back onto the mattress.

“The heel of my shoe got caught in the deck on my way in last night,” she claimed. “My leg turned, but my foot didn’t.”

Royce quickly piped up, “I told her that it looks bad and that we should get it checked, but she just wants to rest it off.”

“‘Cause I’ve done it a zillion times before, Rolls,” Vivien sighed. “It’ll look bad for a few days and then I’ll be fine.”

Before his brother could argue the matter, Miles asked, “Are you sure, kiddo?”

Vivien was quick to nod, “I’m a figure skater; if I went to the hospital every time I got the slightest bit injured, I would never leave.”

“And you’re sure you’ll be better soon?” he pressed.

“Positive,” Vivien stated. “I’ll use the crutches I forgot to bring back to the health center to hobble around, and if I need anything, I’ll text someone for help.”

Miles nodded, more to himself than to Vivien, and said, “Well, I guess that means you won’t be going shopping with us today.”

“You guys are going shopping?” Vivien asked, a hint of disappointment evident in her voice as Royce’s wide eyes settled on his older brother.

“For souvenirs and a few things Mick needed from Walmart,” Miles shrugged, fighting a smirk as Royce relaxed a fraction.

“Oh,” Vivien breathed. Glancing at Bentley, she asked, “Could you grab my bag for me, please?”

“Sure,” the blond said as he pushed himself to sit up. Grabbing the bag dangling from the footboard, Bentley tossed it toward Vivien, smiling when the girl caught it before it could hit her in the stomach.

After thanking the boy, Vivien unzipped the mini backpack, rifling through the contents within before tugging her wallet from the abyss. She quickly fished two ten-dollar bills from the back fold and held them out to Miles before asking, “Can you pick me up a gel wrap? I think they should still be in the health department, but they might have moved them to the medical section with the walkers and canes.”

Miles pressed a hand over Vivien’s outstretched one and pushed it back as he nodded, “Sure, I’ll add it to the list.”

Once Miles’ hand moved, Vivien held the money out again, “I’m not letting you pay for it.”

Again, Miles pushed her hand back, smiling at how easily she allowed him to push back. “You have to. I’m not taking your money, kiddo.”

“Take the money.”

“You know I won’t.”

“But I want you to,” Vivien tried, swapping the money to her other hand and holding it out again. “Take it.”

Instead, Miles caught her by the wrist and pushed her arm down with a chuckle, “I’m not letting you pay for something you need; you know that.” Ruffling the girl’s hair, he rose from the bed and said, “You just worry about getting some rest.”

Vivien let out a resigned sigh as she shoved the money back into her wallet and tossed it back into her bag as Royce and Bentley got up from the bed, “I guess I’ll see you guys later, then.”

“Do you want help going downstairs?” Miles offered.

“Nah,” Vivien said with a shake of her head. “I’m good here.”

Miles nodded as Royce knelt on the bed, leaning over to press a kiss to Vivien’s forehead before stepping away, “We won’t be gone long.”

“I know,” Vivien said with a grin. “Have fun.”

Bentley quickly filled his brother’s spot, wrapping his arms around Vivien’s shoulders before backing up a step, “We’ll bring you ice cream on the way back.”

“Who said we’re stopping for ice cream?” Miles asked as he led the way to the door.

“I just did,” Bentley said with a smirk. “I promised Viv ice cream which means we have to stop now.”

“You are such a little shit.”

“Takes one to know one,” Bentley laughed.

Once his brothers had left, Royce turned to Vivien with a smile and shook his head, “Sorry about them.”

“Don’t be; I love them,” Vivien chuckled.

“Not as much as I love y-” Royce quickly cut himself off, coughing nervously before correcting himself, “Not as much as I love them.”

Either Vivien was oblivious to Royce’s quick slip or she just chose to ignore it as she smiled, “Probably not, but they’re practically my brothers now too, so…”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded. Giving his girlfriend a final embrace, he said, “If you want anything, shoot me a text and I’ll grab it.”

Vivien nodded, “Alright. Have fun.”

Smiling as he backed his way toward the door, Royce said, “It won’t be nearly as fun without you there.”

Vivien let out a snort of laughter, “That was cheesy.”

“Maybe,” Royce agreed as he stepped out of the room, “but it got you to smile.”

“It did,” Vivien relented. “Now, go before they leave without you.”

“See you later.”

“See you,” Vivien said with a final wave, watching her boyfriend leave before digging her phone out of the blankets and making her way to YouTube. Regardless of how long they would be gone, she would need some form of entertainment. As she found a playlist of one of her favorite YouTube gamers playing an apocalypse game she wanted to get, she tapped on it, hoping to be quickly immersed and forget the passing of time around her.

Royce had gotten up early when morning came around on Monday, grateful to see Vivien sitting on the couch with a cup of apple cider. Vivien had spent most of the day before in bed and, despite getting Riven to haul her downstairs to spend the evening with everyone in the living room, Royce was relieved to see that she was more motivated to move around on her own as Monday rolled around. He approached her from behind and tilted the headband of her headphones back before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, earning himself a smile and a spot on the couch beside his girlfriend. Though she claimed she was feeling much better after resting a full day and was able to walk fairly well without the crutches, she continued to keep her feet on a throw pillow she had propped up on the coffee table.

By the time everyone else had begun to join them, Vivien’s head was perched on Royce’s shoulder as he read aloud. However, their relatively peaceful morning was soon interrupted as someone knocked on the door. To everyone’s surprise, it was none other than Vivien’s dad, Damien, coming to ask if he could steal his daughter for the day as he would be away for work on her birthday. Vivien had, of course, quickly agreed and gotten herself ready before meeting her dad on the porch, waving a quick goodbye to everyone who would await her return before allowing her dad to wrap an arm around her and guide her away from the cabin.

With Vivien out of the picture for the day, the lodge's residents divided to get things ready for the girl’s birthday party. The small, gathering-type party with most of the staff members was no surprise as they celebrated everyone’s birthdays in one way or another, but the party her grandparents were planning for the end of the week, was supposed to be. As Charlie and Hayley enlisted the help of Butchy, Miles, and Riven to get decorations in order at the Hill House, Mick and Carrie made it their mission to follow the girl and her father through the mall to make sure she didn’t get anything they had already bought for her. That left Jade and Erica to help set up the mess hall while Royce and Bentley worked on wrapping the gifts they had stored on the top shelf of the pantry, tucked behind unopened packages of raisins, a box of generic brand oat bran cereal, and a box of snacks that they’d been given during a storm, but never touched.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Bentley asked as he eyed his brother.

“Yeah,” Royce huffed, tugging a piece of tape from his shirt, “why?”

“Because we both know you suck at wrapping gifts.”

“I do not.”

“Says the guy surrounded by wrapping paper and tape,” Bentley said with a snort as he set aside a neatly wrapped box with a violet bow glimmering on top of a satin ribbon. Multi-colored wrapping paper littered the floor of Bentley’s bedroom, cheerful fonts wishing everyone around a happy birthday as Royce struggled to get a piece of tape to stop folding back on itself.

Resigning to his fate, Royce extended the haphazardly wrapped gift to his brother and watched as Bentley peeled the tape off in one swipe and began fixing the paper. “I don’t know how you do this stuff so well.”

“And I don’t know how you can’t,” Bentley chuckled, swiftly rearranging the paper before beginning to fold it around the box. “It’s sort of like making a paper airplane.”

“Except that you have to hide a giant box inside the plane and hope it doesn’t show through,” Royce grumbled, watching as Bentley smoothed out the paper and taped it into place. “I’d rather sit through one of Mr. Baxter’s math quizzes than do this stuff.”

Bentley snickered as he handed Royce the neatly wrapped box and watched his brother slide it across the floor to the growing pile by the door. “And I would wrap giftsall day if it meant I didn’t have to sit through boring classes every day for another year.”

Royce shook his head, blowing a stray lock of curls from his eyes as he looked up at Bentley’s set of presents that had already been wrapped. “To each his own, I suppose.”

With a shrug, Bentley nodded and pushed himself off of his bed, crossing over to his closet where he quickly ditched the packages in the corner by his duffel bag. “So, what do we do now?”

Rising from the floor with a sigh, Royce gestured toward the presents he had bought for Vivien and said, “I’ve got to put these away, but after that, we can go help the others if you want.”

“Sure,” Bentley agreed, grabbing some of the gifts and allowing Royce to take the rest before following his brother to his room. As Royce began putting things away, Bentley asked, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” Royce said as he pushed the box Bentley had wrapped for him further on the top shelf of his closet. 

Handing Royce the gifts he had brought, Bentley asked, “What’s it like?”

Royce’s eyes flickered to Bentley as he pushed the closet door shut, “What do you mean?”

“Falling in love,” Bentley asked, perching himself on Royce’s bed. Once he had Royce’s attention, he said, “You and Vivien are young and neither of you have had a ton of experience before, but everyone can tell you love each other. Everyone else is older and most of them have been together a really long time, but you guys are pretty new to it all still, so I was just wondering how it feels from your perspective.”

Tugging his desk chair from under its oaken companion and wheeling it over near Bentley, Royce sighed, “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it, really. When we first got together, I was really clueless. I felt sick every time I was around her, but in a good way.”

Bentley’s head tilted like a confused golden retriever as he asked, “How can you feel sick in a good way?”

“I don’t know how else to explain it,” Royce chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a shrug. “It was like the stereotypical stuff - butterflies, sweaty hands, wanting to be around her all the time and feeling lost when I wasn’t around her. Mickie told me once that I was like a lovesick puppy and it just kind of stuck with me.”

“But you’re still like that now,” Bentley mused.

“I guess so, yeah,” Royce nodded, “but with the right person, I guess that feeling never truly goes away.”

“Does it feel any different to you now that you’ve been together for almost a year?”

“A little,” Royce admitted. “At first, I was really lost on how relationships worked, but I knew I cared about her as more than just a friend. Now, it’s like I have this whole other person in my life who knows everything about me and cares about me, and likes who I am as a person. What makes it even better is that I care about her and her interests just as much, and I love who she is as a person.”

Bentley smiled, “How does that feel?”

“Incredible,” Royce breathed. Giving his brother’s question some thought, Royce took in a slow breath and confessed, “But sometimes, when she’s not around, it’s like there’s a magnet in my chest, tugging me toward where she is. When we’re home and she’s not there, it sort of hurts.”

“Maybe you could talk to Mickie and Butchy about it,” Bentley suggested. “They did the same thing, like, forever ago. Maybe they can help you.”

“Yeah,” Royce agreed, nodding as he met his brother’s aquamarine eyes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

For the first time in a long time, Vivien found herself walking up to peace and quiet. With her siblings off doing their own things and keeping busy with sports over summer vacation, they had no ability to body-slam her awake first thing in the morning. Looking around the barren, sun-tanned walls of her small room, Vivien felt a faint pang of sadness in her chest. Although she told Abby and Oliver off for their antics every year, she sort of missed the bony elbows digging into her ribs and the cheerful morning greetings her siblings gave her every year. Sooner or later, they wouldn’t have those mornings anymore.

Her phone made a soft chirp and, as Vivien picked up the device, she found notifications from both of her siblings as well as her father. Abby’s video wishing her a happy birthday and promising to take her to the mall when they had the chance - at the expense of the gas in Vivien’s car, of course - was complimentary to Oliver’s kind-hearted message about wanting to spend the day with her once they had the chance, but both had given her the promise of presents when she got home. Her father had sent her a video as well, wishing her a happy birthday from the comfort of his car and promising her that, once he had a day off, he would take her out with her siblings to truly celebrate and that they would do whatever she wanted. After typing out a reply to both of her siblings and sending her dad a short video thanking him and hoping his meetings went well, Vivien pushed herself out from under her blankets to get dressed before heading downstairs, taking her hair brush and some elastics with her.

Though the living area was only populated by Bentley’s snoring form, she could hear conversations echoing from the back hall - a clear sign that some people were awake. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Vivien allowed a yawn through her lips and made her way to the kitchen. Turning into the room, she found Mick and Butchy standing by the stove, talking in hushed voices, while Carrie helped Riven and Royce with something on the counter. Watching the group interact with relative ease, Vivien smiled. It wasn’t often they got a chance to enjoy a peaceful morning.

Choosing to make her presence known, Vivien spoke, “Good morning.”

Though her appearance in the kitchen shouldn’t have been unusual, the collective jolt of surprise that rippled over everyone’s shoulders made it nearly impossible for Vivien to contain her laughter. Turning toward the birthday girl, Royce stepped forward, allowing Riven to slide into his empty spot to hide whatever they had been making. Bringing his girlfriend into an embrace, he wished her a happy birthday before asking, “What are you doing in here?”

“Getting something to snack on,” she replied almost cautiously as she leaned away from her boyfriend. “What are you guys doing? Normally, you guys wait for breakfast.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Pip,” Riven told her with a grin, gesturing to the tray he had attempted to hide. “Breakfast in bed.”

Carrie nodded in agreement, “Miles and Bentley were supposed to keep you out there with them until we came out.”

“I didn’t see Miles, but Bentley is sleeping on the couch,” Vivien said with a smile.

Butchy shook his head with a faint smile as he let out a sigh, “Of course he is.”

Vivien glanced around with a smile, “Anyway, I’ll forget I saw anything.”

“Good,” Mick said as she flipped a pancake. “It’s the only thing we’re allowed to do for you today since you won’t let us give you any presents; the least you can do is pretend you had no clue.”

With a roll of her eyes, Vivien sighed, “It’s just until my party.”

“How do you even know your grandparents are throwing you a party?” Royce asked. “If it’s a surprise party, that sort of defeats the purpose.”

“They always throw me some sort of party once camp is closed for the season,” Vivien claimed. “Chances are, they’ll have a small, family-and-close-friends party at the park or the beach by the end of the week.”

“Well,” Butchy began, “since you’re so sure, piccola, why don’t you go read or something so we don’t burn the surprise breakfast you don’t know about?”

With a smirk, Vivien raised her hand and flipped him off, giggling at the matching one he sent her in return. Vivien chuckled, “Love you too.”

Stepping away from the stove as she urged Butchy to get back to work on what they were cooking, Mick smiled at Vivien and suggested, “Why don’t you go try to find Miles? Maybe you can rope him and Bentley into playing a video game with you or something until we finish up here.”

Taking a glance around the room, Vivien nodded, “Sure.”

Thanking the girl, Mick said, “We’ll come find you when we’re done.”

With another nod, Vivien stepped out of the kitchen and heard everyone begin to return to their previous tasks as she began walking back to the living room where Bentley was still sleeping the morning away with his face indented with lines from the couch cushions and a throw blanket. Fighting an amused snort, Vivien fondly shook her head and rounded the couch, heading up to the door of Miles’ bedroom. Though the door was cracked open, she still knocked, listening to him fumble around inside until the door pulled open.

The raised eyebrow he gave her made Vivien smirk, but he was quick to ask, “When did you come downstairs?”

“A few minutes ago,” she replied. “Can I come in? Bentley’s asleep on the couch and I don’t want to wake him.”

Stepping aside, Miles allowed the girl into his room before asking, “You didn’t go into the kitchen, did you?”

Sitting on the edge of Miles’ bed, she nodded, “I did, but they said you were supposed to keep me out.”

Miles let out a sigh as he crossed the room, “I asked Benny to cover for me so I could get stuff done in here.”

“What stuff?” 

“You’ll see eventually,” Miles said with a grin, “now scoot.”

Shuffling further down the bed with a smile, Vivien asked, “So, what did you get me?”

Miles scoffed as he filled the space Vivien vacated, “As if I’d tell you.”

“I’ll start guessing.”

“You really want to spoil your surprise now?” Miles questioned, knowing full well that he couldn’t stop her. “You just have to wait until the party.”

“Yeah,” Vivien sighed, “but that’s days away. I like tormenting you now.”

“When don’t you?”

Instead of answering Miles’ rhetorical question, she asked, “Is it… a dinosaur?”

“I’m not telling you,” Miles smirked, prying the brush from the girl’s hand and pushing himself further back on the bed so that he could sit behind her.

“That doesn’t mean I’m stopping anytime soon,” Vivien grinned. Glancing back at Miles, she asked, “Two braids, please?”

“Of course.” Splitting the girl’s hair down the center of her head, he said, “Now, go on, pester me some more.”

“Alright. Is it a puppy?”

Glancing at the girl’s reflection in the mirror across from them, Miles asked, “You already have that horse of a dog at your house and your grandparents’ dog - why would you need another?”

“You can never have too many dogs,” Vivien beamed. “Is it a set of tickets to the Eras tour?”

“I thought you said Taylor Swift is overseas now?” Miles mused as he began weaving one side of Vivien’s hair into a braid.

“She is, but she’s coming back,” Vivien shrugged. “She’ll be back in the States around Halloween.”

Sighing, Miles shook his head, “Well, either way, the answer is no.”

“Well, damn,” Vivien sighed, “I give up.”

“‘Bout time.”

With a snort, Vivien resigned to watching Miles work on her hair. It never took him long once he reached the back of her neck, but she found it interesting how thorough he was with the rest of her hair. Ever since her stay at his house, she discovered he was the best braider around - apart from her Nonna or Charlie, of course. Unlike when her mother would braid her hair before competitions, Miles never yanked her head in the direction he needed her to sit in or tugged close to her scalp to keep things neat. He was methodical, sure, but Miles always took his time with her, making sure there weren’t a lot of stray hairs and that the braids were near-perfect while also being gentle with her. Vivien smiled to herself as Miles began working his way through her hair - he was a good brother.

As though he felt the girl’s gaze on him, Miles looked up at the mirror, smiling confusedly at Vivien’s reflection as he asked, “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Just thinking,” Vivien shrugged.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Oh ha ha.”

Smirking, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Taking in a deep breath, Vivien sighed, “It’s almost time for school.”

“Yeah.”

“And, since I’m doing a joint year, this is my last year of school,” she continued.

As Miles tied off the bottom of Vivien’s hair, he brought his hands to her shoulders and smiled at her reflection as he told her, “And you know how proud everyone is of you.”

“I do,” she nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s just…” 

“What?”

“I have no idea what I’m going to do next,” she breathed.

Bringing the brush through the other side of Vivien’s hair, Miles asked, “Who says you have to make up your mind now?” Once Vivien’s gaze met his in the mirror, he continued, “You have an extra year to figure things out for yourself, Viv. You’re still a kid.”

“I know,” Vivien said. “It’s just that my mom wants me to go off and be a lawyer or something - to make something of myself - and my dad just wants me to be happy, but I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

Hands stilling against Vivien’s head, Miles asked, “What do you mean?”

“I thought I had everything figured out,” Vivien sighed. “I wanted to go to Harvard like Aunt Hayley and Charlie, make a name for myself, and then figure everything else out. Now, it’s like everything’s changed.”

“How so?”

Taking in a slow breath, she explained, “When I spent time with you guys for my break, it felt like I didn’t have to be anybody other than myself. I could just be me and that was enough. It made me realize that, even if I graduate with a four-point-oh GPA and get accepted to Harvard Law School, that won’t make me happy.”

Allowing Vivien’s words to settle in the air, Miles continued to braid her hair and gave her a moment to process her thoughts before asking, “What would make you happy?”

“I don't know.” Sucking in a breath, Vivien admitted, “I’m happy with Royce and I know that, when the time comes, I’d be more than willing to live both in your world and mine the way that Mickie does. I’m happy here at camp and I can see myself helping run the place when Grandpa George and Nonna decide to retire.”

Nodding, Miles asked, “What about school? Do you want to go to college someday?”

Vivien was quick to nod, her movements small so as to not mess up Miles’ hard work, “I do. Harvard has always been a dream of mine and my guidance counselor said I could easily be accepted. They have a great volleyball team and a figure skating club I could join to keep up my practices.”

With a smile, Miles said, “That would be great. What program would you do if you had the choice?”

“Astronomy or robotics,” Vivien decided. “I love space; my final project for last year was on the uncharted parts of the Milky Way, for crying out loud, but robotics has always been interesting to me. I used to build things with Aunt Hayley and Mick’s dad on the weekends and I was the state champion for the battle bot championship over April vacation.”

“Astronomy or robotics, huh?” Miles mused. When Vivien nodded, he smiled, “I could see you doing well in either.”

Vivien smiled, grateful for the older boy’s encouragement, “It just feels like I would be letting people down if I pick something that isn’t what they think would pay well.”

“Since when have you ever given a shit what people think about you?”

“I know, it’s just-”

“You don’t want to let the people you love down.”

“Yeah.”

“Believe me, I know how that goes,” Miles huffed.

“You do?” Vivien asked, her eyebrow lifting past the edge of her bangs.

Miles nodded, “My dad wasn’t always a deadbeat. I remember him saying that I should go on to be a doctor or something to drag us out from under the poverty line since he couldn’t. He was injured in the service and couldn’t go back to his job as a carpenter. My mom never wanted that, though. Her old journals were filled with things she wanted for us - happiness, adventure, and a life full of love. I decided that even if it pissed off my dad, I wanted to be happy like my mom hoped I would.”

Vivien hummed thoughtfully, “Was that why you moved out?”

“No,” Miles chuckled as he tied off her hair. “That’s a story for another time, kid.”

“So, what did you want to do?”

“Well,” Miles began as he moved out from behind Vivien, “if things had gone the way I planned, I would have gone to college on a football scholarship and eventually gone on to be a teacher or a guidance counselor. I just wanted to be there to help kids find their full potential.”

The more Vivien thought about it, the more it sort of made sense. She had learned over her time in his house that Miles was a responsible sort of person and a great teacher, but picturing him in front of a class of rugrat children, teaching them math problems didn’t feel right. “What kind of teacher would you have been?”

“English, history, or automotive,” Miles claimed as he set Vivien’s hairbrush in the girl’s hand.

Vivien let out a breath of laughter, “You would have been like Mr. Turner if you taught English.”

“Mr. Turner?” Miles echoed.

With a shake of her head, Vivien brushed off the older male, “It’s from a nineties show. We’ll watch it sometime this week. Anyway, the point is that you would have been a cool teacher.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Vivien said. “I mean, you’ve been great with all the kids this summer and you’re amazing with me and the boys. If you can handle us, you can handle anything.”

Miles chuckled, “Well, to be fair, I didn’t have much of a choice in handling the three of you this summer.”

“No,” Vivien agreed, “but you did have a choice when I stayed with you guys for a while.”

“We all liked having you there,” Miles claimed.

With a teasing smirk, Vivien nudged Miles with her elbow and scoffed, “Yeah, because I got all the work done that you’d been putting off.”

Rolling his eyes, Miles nudged her back, “You and I both know that isn’t the reason.”

“I know,” Vivien said as she let her head land on Miles’ shoulder. “I actually kind of miss living with you guys.”

“You do?” Miles wondered, leaning his cheek against the top of Vivien’s head.

Vivien hummed, “I love staying with my parents, don’t get me wrong, but it feels like my dad is the only one who cares anymore. My mom’s always too busy to give a shit. I mean, you were there at the closing performance - she never even showed.”

“Your dad said she was busy,” Miles tried.

With a roll of her eyes that Miles couldn’t see, Vivien scoffed, “Yeah, busy making some big dinner to celebrate Abby’s soccer team winning their first match of the season.”

“But Abby-”

“Was there? Yeah, I know.” Vivien lifted her head with a huff, “Abby and Olly would have been here this summer if mom wasn’t up their asses all summer, pushing them into every sport imaginable.”

“Why does she push them so much?” Miles wondered aloud. “They’re not little robots.”

“No, but she wishes they were,” Vivien sighed. “Since she works for the state, she thinks her ‘family image’ is all that matters. If people see her kids being high achievers, they’ll see her in a positive light and keep electing her to keep her position. I don’t fit inside the mold anymore, so she pushes everything onto the twins.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Vivien nodded as she rose from the bed. “That’s why I liked staying with you guys; there was no pressure to be anything other than myself.”

Standing, Miles offered the girl a smile and said, “Well, you’re always welcome to stay with us.”

Thanking the older boy, Vivien smiled as she made her way to the door of his room. An open-door policy like that was definitely needed. The more her mother ramped up the pressure, the more she just wanted to up and leave. The only thing was, she didn’t feel like abandoning her dad and siblings; they didn’t deserve to put up with the torture alone. That didn’t mean she couldn’t take vacations there as she had over her break, spending weeks or months in a never-ending summer with a group of people who cared about her without strings attached. 

Reaching for the door handle, Vivien slowly turned toward Miles and said, “Maybe that’s what I could do.”

Miles’ head tipped in confusion, clearly not following the girl’s train of thought, “What?”

“Maybe I could spend my gap year with you guys!” Vivien exclaimed. “I mean, obviously, I don’t have to just stay with you and the boys if you don’t want me there for that long, and I might have everything figured out before the year is up, but I could spend time in your world and figure out what I really want without my mom breathing down my neck or worrying about being away from my siblings for long. I could work at Big Momma’s or the record shop or something to help with bills and still have the chance to figure things out before I go to college.”

Eyeing the girl as he took in the information she had practically spewed his way, Miles grinned, “That’s a great idea, kiddo, but shouldn’t you talk it over with your parents first?”

“My dad will say yes,” Vivien said confidently. “He has my best interests at heart and, if I explain to him that it would help me sort out my future, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”

“And your mom?”

Vivien shrugged, “If Dad agrees first, she won’t argue. It’s part of some deal they made in the divorce. If I talk with Dad first, everything would be fine.”

“In that case,” Miles began, “I don’t see any issue with it.”

With an excited squeal, Vivien bounced on her feet before lurching forward, bringing her arms around Miles’ middle. As the girl’s snake-like arms tightened around him, Miles smiled and brought his arms around her shoulders. Listening to the girl ramble against him, prattling off about all the things she would do and how hard she planned on working to make it all work during her stay, Miles merely chuckled and assured her that she didn’t need to plan anything just yet. As Vivien began to lean away, the door slammed open behind her, making both Vivien and Miles jump, whirling around to see who had barged in.

A dazed Bentley stood in the doorway, the imprint of the blanket and pillow he had been curled up with still lined in red on his cheek as his hair stuck out in every direction and his wide blue eyes scanned the room. Once his gaze landed on Miles and Vivien, he breathed, “How long was I asleep?”

“Long enough, by the look of it,” Miles chuckled.

“Yep,” Vivien nodded. “Disney now owns all of Florida, Elon Musk bought the moon, and we brought the Sanderson Sisters back from the dead again to make a third movie.”

Bentley’s sleep-riddled brain took a while to process Vivien’s claims, but when he finally caught up with it, he smirked, “So nothing’s changed?”

“Nothing apart from my age,” Vivien shrugged, patting the blond on the shoulder as she ducked around him to head back to the living room. “Now, come on, my dad got me some games yesterday and I plan on beating you both.”

“You’re so on!” Bentley laughed.

“Yeah,” Miles agreed as he followed the pair out to the couch. “Just because you’re the birthday girl, doesn’t mean you get a free win.”

“Game on, boys,” Vivien beamed as she grabbed a controller from the coffee table.

At dinnertime that evening, as everyone gathered in the mess hall, those who worked in the kitchen set out the cake and cupcakes that Erica, Jade, and Vivien’s aunts had worked on. The camp had celebrated birthdays throughout the summer, making sure cake and ice cream were available on Fridays so that everyone who had a birthday during the week could celebrate, but as the staff’s end-of-year party was going to happen on Friday and they had a lot of work to do for the next two days, Vivien’s birthday party would have to happen on Tuesday.

Pulling her to the front of the room as they did to anyone with a birthday during the week, George and Dawn kept their granddaughter between them and called everyone’s attention to them. Vivien’s hatred of the spotlight was on full display as her face burned while everyone sang her Happy Birthday. However, before she could scurry back to her normal table and bury her face in a bowl of ice cream, Dawn’s hand gripped her shoulder, keeping her rooted in place once the song was over.

Glancing between her grandparents in confusion, Vivien felt herself shrink under everyone’s gazes as her grandfather began to speak, “As most, if not all of you know, Vivien here is our granddaughter.”

“Whoo!” Noah hollered from his table to which Vivien rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, Vivi!” Erica shouted, earning herself a glare from the brunette.

“Anyway,” George continued, amusement evident in his tone, “as you know, Vivien has been our little helper through the years - both during her time as a camper and as a member of our staff. Over her time here, we have watched her grow and mature.”

“In some ways more than others,” Dawn said as she nudged her granddaughter with a grin.

“It is because of this growing maturity that, starting next year, she will be training to take over this camp,” George claimed, smiling as Vivien’s wide, green eyes found his. Murmurs of confusion fluttered through the room as people began questioning what they were told. Raising a hand to silence the staff before him, George continued, “We have no intention of leaving anytime soon, even when she takes over, but we want this camp to stay in good hands for generations to come and this is the start of making sure that happens.”

Dawn nodded before explaining, “Vivien won’t be alone in this endeavor as our daughter, Hayley, and her wife, Charlotte, plan on helping her in every way possible.”

“Damn straight!” Hayley said, making a round of laughter echo through the log building.

Vivien smiled as her aunts lifted their cups of juice in a sort of toast. Before she could say anything, her grandfather said, “I know this all will take some time to adjust to and, while it will be a while before everything is said and done, we hope you all will continue to stick around for Vivien as you have for us.”

Without allowing anyone to argue the point, Dawn plastered a smile on her face and gestured toward the dessert table as she said, “Now, come on everybody! Let’s celebrate! There’s cake and ice cream for everyone.”

As her grandparents began walking away and some of the staff started making their way up to get something to eat, Vivien dodged anybody coming her way and slid into her usual spot at the table, wedged between a cockily smirking Riven and a smiling Royce. As Riven teased her for her lobster-red face, Royce’s hand found hers as he said, “That was great. I’m so excited for you.”

“That was embarrassing,” she sighed, flipping Riven off as he teased her some more.

“At least you chose to not change into your pajamas before coming down for dinner,” Riven joked. “Can only imagine how you’d feel if you had to stand in front of everyone, wearing your roller skate pajamas.”

Leveling Riven with a glare, Vivien muttered, “Another word out of you and I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.”

“For some reason, I highly doubt that,” Riven chortled. “You love me too much to kill me.”

With a smirk, Vivien leaned closer to Riven’s face and hissed, “Try me, bitch.”

For their final full day at Camp Wanamaker, the staff got to work making sure everything was put away and ready for the next season. Linens that had been put into the wash the day before were folded and tucked away into cabinets and storage rooms while anything that didn’t belong to the camp was tossed into duffel bags or suitcases. The last sweep of the pool was finished fairly quickly, leaves and debris scooped out before the water was drained to prevent cracking and mold. Musical instruments were placed into cases and set into storage rooms for safekeeping. Everyone wanted things put away in their rightful places by the end of the day so that they could enjoy the staff party at the end of the day without having to worry about getting back to work putting things away.

Almost everything was taken care of not long after lunch as the sun took the slight edge of an autumn chill out of the air. However, there was still one place that looked as though a tornado had blown through it: the playhouse. After the performance on Saturday, everyone involved was too busy letting themselves come down from the adrenaline rush or working themselves down to a relatively normal way of life to take the time to clean the aftermath. Chairs remained in somewhat uniform rows, pamphlets and snack wrappers littered around the floors, and everything that had been on the stage during the final number was left where it needed to be at the time.

So, once he was done cleaning the already fairly neat library, Royce dragged himself over to the playhouse to offer help in any way he could. Riven, who was busy folding chairs and placing them on rolling racks, was quick to direct the teen to Carrie, telling him that she needed help sorting through all of the costumes and supplies in the dressing rooms. Reluctantly, Royce sucked in a breath and nodded with a tight smile before making his way to the back of the stage. He had promised Vivien he would be on his best behavior with Carrie until the end of their stay and, while it had gotten quite a bit easier to act nice with her, he still rolled his eyes at the thought of spending any one-on-one time with her.

Though he felt they had a few moments where things with Carrie weren’t so bad, finding her sitting on the floor in one of the dressing rooms, surrounded by a mountain of vintage clothes, was not one of those moments. The blonde’s normally tame hair rivaled Royce’s chaotic chocolate curls, testing the strength of the scrunchie she had borrowed from Vivien as she let out a noise of frustration. Normally, a quip about Carrie dirtying her designer shorts would be the first thing out of Royce’s mouth in that situation. However, as he took in how stressed the blonde appeared, he swallowed his comments and tapped on the door with his knuckles.

Whipping around to see who had entered, Carrie let out a defeated breath as she remarked, “If you’re going to tell me that it looks like a Barbie doll’s closet threw up in here, I already know.”

Reducing the bark of laughter he wanted to let out to nothing more than a smirk, Royce said, “I was actually just going to offer help, but that works too.”

Raising a skeptical brow, Carrie slowly questioned, “You want to help me?”

“Riven said you need help and, from the look of things,” Royce glanced around the piles of clothes and chuckled, “I think he was right.”

“So you’re not here to harass me on your way to help Charlie or something?” Carrie wondered.

“Oddly enough, no,” Royce said with a shake of his head as he cautiously stepped into the room. “I genuinely want to help so you guys can enjoy the party.”

Despite still feeling rather skeptical, Carie shrugged and said, “Well, get comfy then because we have a lot of work to do.”

Pushing some clothes aside to make room for him to sit on the floor, Royce sighed, “What first?”

“I don’t actually know,” Carrie huffed, blowing a lock of curls from her face. “I was going to go by color, but then chose to go by size, and now I don’t know what to do other than shove everything in the closet and hope for the best.”

A half-snort of laughter later, Royce chuckled, “Yeah, ‘cause that would be great for them to deal with next year. Just open it up and out comes an avalanche of clothes from the sixties.”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

“I have two ideas,” Royce mused as he looked over the mountainous mile. “We can either just go by size and organize everything in bins with the largest sizes at the bottom and work our way up or we can call Vivien and have her go through all of this.”

“Why would we need Vivien to do this?” Carrie questioned as she picked a shirt up from the pile.

“She’s a pro at organization and her ADHD makes it impossible for her to stop once she’s started a project,” Royce explained. “She’d get it done in no time.”

“How did you figure that out?”

Royce chuckled as he began folding a pair of pants, “When she stayed with us, she took one look at the room Ben and I share, and took two whole days to clean it all before moving on to the rest of the house.”

“Well, damn,” Carrie breathed. “Maybe I could get her to help the wardrobe department organize their disaster area.”

“Knowing her,” Royce began, “she’d probably like that.”

Humming in agreement, Carrie grabbed another article of clothing and began folding it. The calm silence between them wasn’t nearly as awkward as she thought it would be. It was one thing for him to be nice to her for Vivien’s sake, but it was another entirely for him to offer to help as well as keep any snide comments to himself. As mildly off-putting as it was for the two of them to not be at each other’s throats, Carrie found herself grinning at the thought of having a nice conversation with the seventeen-year-old. Watching Royce begin sorting his side of the pile into separate sizes, Carrie cleared her throat and said, “You know, I think this is the longest we’ve gone without arguing.”

Glancing up at the blonde, Royce smirked, “Would you prefer it if I was rude to you?”

“Not particularly,” Carrie chuckled. “It’s just nice, that’s all.”

Despite the shrug he gave, Royce nodded, “I’m still not the biggest fan of you or your relationships with the people I care about, but I have to say, you’re not half bad when you’re not acting like some big shot actress with her head up her ass.”

“Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you,” Carrie laughed.

Royce’s grin returned, “I just did.”

“You don’t hold back at all, huh?”

“It’s easier to just speak your mind,” Royce shrugged. 

Pausing to think about the boy’s words, Carrie asked, “Do you really think I have my head up my ass?”

“If I’m being honest, I’d have to say that, recently, you’ve been okay,” Royce admitted. “You were far worse when I first met you. Remember that day at the pool?”

Carrie shuddered at the thought. Her first outing with Miles’ family and close friends still kept her up at night from time to time. The immediate rejection by both Royce and Bentley, the feeling of being ostracized by practically everyone, and getting shoved in the pool by one of Miles’ closest friends all made that day memorable, but certainly not in a good way. No matter what she did that day, nothing brought her closer to the people Miles loved most. Nodding to Royce, Carrie sighed, “Sadly.”

“Well, coming home to see you, of all people, dating my brother wasn’t great,” Royce began, “but watching you go full-tilt diva at the pool did you no favors.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. Carrie pushed aside a stack of neatly folded clothes and asked, “Had you seen me before then? Did you watch my shows or something?”

“Hell no,” Royce scoffed. “I was never into drama in school, why on earth would I watch a show about the stuff I tried to avoid?”

“But you knew me?”

“Your face was plastered on magazines and the inside of people’s lockers,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t take a genius to know who you are.”

Carrie nodded in understanding. Surely, if Royce had heard kids at school talking about her, it must have been surreal walking into the house and seeing her there. Their first meeting was awkward all around, but they had made at least a handful of small strides since then, and Carrie couldn’t have been more grateful for that. As Royce began filling a plastic bin with clothes, she asked, “So, uh, how are you feeling about spending the rest of the week at Vivi’s grandparent’s house?”

Royce sighed, discretely rolling his eyes before turning back to Carrie, “I’m okay, I guess. It’s going to be a long few days.”

“How come?”

“I haven’t done anything like this before,” Royce claimed. “I don’t exactly like spending nights in odd places and, on top of that, I have to spend the entire time doing my best to impress her family.”

“You won’t have to work hard at that,” Carrie said with a smile, hoping Royce would take it in a somewhat comforting way.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, unlike my first time spending the night at your house, you already have a good relationship with your significant other's family.” Moving to sit cross-legged as she met the boy’s caramel eyes, Carrie said, “I had to sit through a lot of awkward tension and feel the wrath of two teenagers who wanted nothing more than to get me out of their home, but you know that Chief and Nonna love you already.”

“How would you know that?” 

“Because they talk about you like you’re their grandson,” Carrie said with a smile. “I sat in a meeting with them, listening to them talk about how proud they are of everyone. They had a lot to say about how cute you and Vivi are.”

“They did?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Carrie chuckled. “You guys are adorable together.”

Royce shook his head, “I doubt they said that.”

“It’s the truth,” Carrie shrugged. “They adore you and Bentley just like everyone else does. You’ll be fine.”

Eyeing the blonde, Royce asked, “How can I be sure you’re not just messing with me?”

“With how well we typically get along, you can’t,” Carrie claimed. “But just know that I wouldn’t screw with your relationship like that. The two of you are too cute for me to want to do that to you guys.”

“I don’t think we’re that cute,” Royce tried, hoping the roll of his eyes was enough to mask his gradually warming face, “but thanks.”

“You’re right,” Carrie nodded. “You two are adorable.”

“No.”

Carrie smirked, “Fight it all you want, but you two are like two little kittens curled up in a little basket - adorable.” 

“We are not.”

“You absolutely are,” Carrie laughed. “I mean, I may have my head up my ass sometimes, but even I can see that.”

Finding himself unable to fight the grin Carrie’s mildly self-deprecating jibe brought to his face, Royce turned his gaze back to the clothes piles before him and muttered, “Shut up.”

In return, Carrie only laughed.

The staff’s late-night party went far past the usual call of lights-out, but none of the people attending the party seemed to mind. Thursday morning, however, made nearly everyone in attendance regret their decision. As counselors and other staff members trudged their way out of their cabins with bags full of their belongings now bursting at the seams, a handful of workers set out trays of food and made sure the buses that were scheduled to arrive were prepared to bring everyone where they needed to go.

Perched on the porch with her faithful, canine companion by her side, Vivien watched as people dragged themselves up the steps of the mess hall, tossing their belongings in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. While some gave her grunts of acknowledgment or fleeting greetings as they passed, some just waved as they headed inside. After having a cup or two of punch, Bentley joined her in watching the parade of sluggish staff members, making sure Ding was given the attention he deserved as they talked about their plans for the day. 

By the time breakfast was over, a few buses from the next town over had arrived to bring some of the local workers home. With coffee in their systems and the promise of relaxing for a couple of days before going back to school, work, and normal life, people ditched their trays in the collection bin by the door and scurried outside to find a good seat on the buses that awaited. Those who didn’t need a ride piled into their cars and took off after making sure they had all of their things tucked in the trunk or back seat. A handful of people offered rides to their friends whereas the international staff hugged their new friends for the last time before getting on the shuttle that would bring them to the nearest airport.

With everything loaded in the back of her car, Vivien took her spot on the deck of the main office, waving goodbye to those she knew well as they left. Riley Nicholls pulled herself away from her mom before rushing up the stairs to give Vivien a quick hug, thanking her for helping Noah work up the courage to ask her out and promising to try to keep in touch before joining her mother and sister at the car. Noah wasn’t far behind, but Vivien met him halfway, the two of them taunting each other before Vivien watched him leave. 

Once everyone had left and the buildings were locked for the time being, Dawn and George made sure that everyone who was leaving with them had gotten all of their things together before heading to the old car they had left parked in front of the main office. Following the oldest members of their group, Butchy made sure to keep close behind Vivien and her grandparents’ vehicles as they pulled out of the end of the street and turned toward the house on the hill. The trip only took a few minutes and, as they pulled into the driveway, George lifted the garage door and pulled inside, allowing the others to park just outside it.

Depositing their bags by the stairs, Dawn led the group to the living room before grabbing Vivien and heading to the kitchen to make some food for dinner. Grabbing a pot from the cupboard, the older woman turned to her granddaughter and said, “I hope you know that you’re not sleeping with him tonight.”

Taken aback by her grandmother’s words, Vivien turned to her with a raised eyebrow and wide eyes, “Why on earth would I want to?”

“I was a teenager once, baby girl,” Dawn said with a small grin. “If there was no other option, I would let it happen, but where his brothers are here and there is enough space for everyone, I don’t think it would be the greatest idea.”

Thinking for a moment about Dawn’s words, Vivien closed her eyes and let out a breath of a laugh before asking, “You’re talking about us sharing a room, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Dawn nodded, “what else would I be talking about?”

“Sharing a bed and sleeping together are two totally different things, Nonna,” Vivien chuckled. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t think I had to worry about you two going at it,” Dawn claimed with a smile as she set the pot in the sink and turned on the tap. “As far as I know, you two haven’t even kissed yet.”

“We haven’t,” Vivien confirmed as she pulled two boxes of Hamburger Helper from the pantry. “And, for the record, we’ve shared a bed before, but I wasn’t going to ask if we could.”

Setting the pot of water on the stove, Dawn turned to her granddaughter and asked, “Miles was alright with that?”

“There was nothing inappropriate about it,” Vivien shrugged. “Besides, Royce normally shares a room with Bentley, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

Dawn examined Vivien’s expression, searching for anything that might give away that what she said wasn’t true, but after a moment she shrugged, “Alright, well, maybe I can talk with your grandfather about it.”

“That’s alright,” Vivien said, dismissively brushing off the idea with a wave of her hand. “I’ll just take my regular room.”

Watching Vivien read over the instructions on the box, Dawn smiled, “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Vivien set the boxes down and made her way to the fridge to retrieve the meat they had taken from the freezer to thaw. Turning toward her grandmother, she asked, “Am I rooming with anybody?”

“It depends, really,” Dawn explained. “I’m sure your aunts, as well as Mick and Butchy, would want to have rooms to themselves, but I’m not sure about your friends - Jade and Erica - or Miles and Carrie.”

Vivien glanced toward the hallway and said, “I don’t know, but my guess would be that they’d be down to share.”

“That leaves the boys and Riven.”

“It does.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

Vivien shrugged, “Well, the boys already share a room at their house and at Mick’s family cabin, so I doubt that would be an issue, and Riven and I have shared a room before during competition weeks.”

“And you don’t mind having him there?” Dawn asked.

“Apart from his incessant snoring, no,” Vivien chuckled. “If I get sick of him, I can always kick him off the bed or make him sleep on the couch or something.”

“Vivien,” the older woman said somewhat sternly.

“What?” Vivien asked innocently. “You can’t honestly say you haven’t kicked Grandpa out of bed before.”

“Fair enough.”

To most in the house, Friday flew by. Determined to spend time with the people in their home, George and Dawn pulled some of their old photo albums from a box in the basement and set them out on the coffee table for everyone to look through. While others found pictures of the couple’s wedding and images taken throughout the vacations they took together before having children, Vivien found herself drawn to the thick book of pictures from the eighties. As the colors of everyday objects and clothing shifted from the beiges and browns of the late seventies to the wild patterns and vibrant neons of the late eighties, Vivien found herself smiling at how young her grandparents looked.

Acid wash denim and loudly patterned sweaters were commonplace by the time she reached 1985. Seeing pictures of her mom and aunt as babies and watching them grow was fascinating, but so was the fashion her grandparents shoved their toddlers into. Pastel corduroy pants, delicately designed sweaters with cartoon characters hand sewn into the front, oversized tops and high-waisted pants, all complimented by fluffy bangs and hair stiffened by enough Aqua Net to poke a hole in the ozone layer. As interesting as it was to see her grandparents spending their twenties in a decade of eclectic style choices, Vivien wondered if they knew at the time how their style choices would be perceived so many years later. Then again, she knew the styles she wore in her earlier years would be considered atrocious by the time her family had another few generations.

Vivien winced inwardly at the thought of clip-in feather extensions, half-shirts over tank tops, and jeggings making a come back. The only things from her childhood she wished would return were Silly Bandz, Heelys, and Club Penguin. Maybe her grandparents felt the same as they looked back over their previous choices. Maybe they despised it all the same. Then again, as her grandpa proudly showed off a picture of himself in their yearbook - plaid bellbottoms and a horizontally striped shirt with an oversized collar - she realized they probably didn’t care anymore. Perhaps, in time, she would be able to look back on pictures of her pre-teen self and laugh as well.

By the time they had lunch, the rain had dwindled considerably, but the photo albums had been set aside and a stack of DVD wallets had been set out in their places. Looking over the stack of DVD folders, Vivien looked to her grandparents and asked, “When did you guys get so many movies?”

“We’ve had them for a long time, sweetheart,” George claimed. “We’re not the greatest with those things you and your siblings put on the TV, but DVDs are easy enough to understand.”

“Plus, there are a lot of movies we grew up watching that aren’t available on Netflix or anything like that,” Dawn added.

“How did you get so many?” Erica wondered as she flipped through one of the wallets.

“Amazon and tag sales,” George said with a grin.

“Seriously?” Vivien asked as she picked up a small, blue pouch of DVDs. “So you can figure out Amazon on your phone, but not a streaming app?”

George shrugged as Dawn spoke up, “This isn’t even our whole collection.”

Mick laughed, peering over Vivien’s shoulder as the younger girl unzipped the folder in her hand and flipped through some of the available films, “Where on earth do you hide them all?”

“In boxes in the hallway closet,” Dawn said, gesturing to the far side of the room. “If you want, you can go look through them.”

As Mick stood, Vivien quickly followed, handing the packet of DVDs to Royce before pushing herself from the floor and tucking her phone into her back pocket. Once they were away from the group, Vivien tugged Mick into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. Looking around, Mick’s confused chestnut eyes fell on Vivien as she asked, “Why are we-?”

“Shh!” Vivien hissed in a whisper. Lowering her voice, Vivien spoke, “Look, I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone, but I found something.”

Intrigued, Mick muttered, “What?”

Reaching into her back pocket, Vivien pulled out her phone and set it on the edge of the sink before holding out a DVD for Mick to take. Gingerly slipping the silver disc out of Vivien’s hand, Mick slowly turned it over to see an image of Lela and Tanner standing on opposite sides of a surfboard, their vibrant smiles grinning up at her from just under the title of their movie. Not wanting to believe they were being called out by the sixty-something-year-old couple, Mick looked for a sign that the picture was a sticker slapped onto the disc. To her dismay, however, it was not. Adding insult to injury, the white ring on the back of the DVD showed the movie’s title in thick black letters, further proving that the movie was exactly as it appeared.

Mick examined the DVD for a while before slowly lifting her gaze to the young brunette before her, “Do you think they know?”

“I don’t know,” Vivien breathed. “As far as I know, they haven’t said anything to any of us and I don’t think they watch a lot of movies, but if this is in their collection, they must have seen it at some point, right?”

“Probably,” Mick sighed. 

Running her hands over her hair out of habit, Vivien asked, “What are we going to do?”

With a shake of her head, Mick breathed, “I don’t know. Maybe I can talk with your grandma later or something - see how much she knows - and, in the meantime, we can hide the DVD in one of the cases in the closet.”

Vivien slowly nodded, “That’s actually a pretty good idea.”

Twisting the doorknob, Mick smirked, “Don’t sound so surprised.”

After finding the box of DVDs in the hall closet and shoving the movie into an empty case in the middle, the girls returned to the living room and settled down until a film was agreed upon for the afternoon. Once everyone had gotten snacks from the kitchen, Mick placed a bag of popcorn in the microwave and perched herself on one of the island stools as Dawn searched the pantry for some nacho cheese popcorn seasoning. The dark-haired woman hummed to herself as she moved things around, the song both soothing and making Mick more anxious as she listened to the woman’s gentle voice.

Preparing herself for the inevitable conversation, Mick twisted her seat around toward the woman and chuckled, “You know, my parents would go nuts if they saw your movie collection.”

“Oh really?” the older woman asked, turning with a grin as she pulled a tray of popcorn seasonings from the pantry shelf. “Well, if they ever feel like stopping by and borrowing some of them, we always leave a key in the socket cover by the garage door.”

“I’m sure they’d love that,” Mick said graciously. Swallowing thickly as the woman set the tray of seasonings on the counter, Mick said, “There were a lot of old movies in there.”

“Yeah, well,” Dawn gestured toward herself and chuckled, “we’re old.”

“You’re really not,” Mick offered, “but some of those movies are from before your time. I mean, come on, movies from the thirties and forties? Those have to be pretty rare.”

With a shrug, Dawn popped open the nacho cheese seasoning and held it over the already popped bag she had made as she said, “The more famous ones like Gone With The Wind were transferred to DVD in recent years, but everything from the fifties onward is pretty standard.”

Mick nodded, “I did see a good set of movies from the sixties.”

Dawn let out a short laugh, “Those were mostly mine.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Dawn nodded. “I had a thing for collecting as many Frankie and Annette movies as possible. I’m actually still looking for a couple of them.”

“Which ones?” Mick asked as she pulled her bag of popcorn from the microwave and sat back down at the counter. “My parents might have an extra copy.”

“I believe I still need Fireball 500 and Thunder Alley,” Dawn said as she shrugged, “but I’m sure I’ll find them in my own time.”

“Yeah, probably,” Mick said with a hopeful smile and a nod. Taking in a breath, she brought her bottom lip between her teeth before slowly releasing it and saying, “I was surprised you had a Blu-Ray copy of Wet Side Story. My parents love that movie.”

Dawn chuckled, lifting her head and meeting Mick’s eyes as she said, “I was wondering how long it would take.”

Taken aback by the woman’s words, Mick shook her head faintly and asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I was wondering how long it would be before one of you said something,” Dawn restated. When Mick chose to remain silent, her shock keeping her frozen in place, the older woman continued, “Before summer, I set aside that little folder of movies for George and I to watch in our free time at camp, but when you showed me some pictures of things in Florida, I recognized Lela as the girl on the DVD we were supposed to watch that night.”

Finally allowing herself to speak, Mick asked, “And you’re fine with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dawn asked in return. “It’s your life, sweetie; as long as you’re happy, I don’t have an issue with it.”

“Aren’t you curious as to how it all works?”

“A little, but I can’t say that I would understand it if you chose to tell me,” Dawn chuckled. “Just know that George and I support everything and will keep it a secret if you need us to.”

“Not a lot of people know,” Mick stated.

“Your parents must.” Slowly, Mick nodded. “Does Vivien?” 

“She didn’t for a while, but she figured it out a year ago,” Mick said with a nod. “I think it was around the time she and Royce started dating.”

“I figured as much,” Dawn mused. “Does anybody in the house not know?”

“Riven, Erica, Jade, Hayley, and Charlie,” Mick listed. “As far as I know, they’re clueless.”

With a nod, Dawn took in a breath and asked, “Are you planning on telling them?”

“When we feel the time is right,” Mick nodded. “Vivien wants to tell Riven first as a test run, but since he hasn’t come to us with questions, I doubt she has.”

Dawn hummed, “She’s always been fairly anxious about telling people personal things, but she’s a smart young lady. I’m sure she’ll tell him when she’s ready.”

With a nod, Mick pulled open the bag of popcorn before her and wondered aloud, “Should we tell the others that you guys know?”

“Not yet,” Dawn said with a shake of her head. “I think George and I would both feel better about it if they came to us on their own. For now, we can let them think we’re in the dark still.”

Almost hesitantly, Mick nodded and muttered, “Okay.”

Patting the girl on the arm, Dawn picked up her bowl of seasoned popcorn and gestured to the hallway before allowing Mick to lead the way back to the living room. Before they could reach the room where everyone else had gathered, she softly asked, “So, when Vivien went to visit you on her school break…?”

“She was actually staying with us in the movie world,” Mick clarified. At the woman’s confused expression, Mick chuckled, “It’s a long story.”

“In that case, I’ll be glad to hear it someday,” Dawn said with a grin before following Mick into the living room. 

“Happy birthday!” two voices screeched in Vivien’s ears as the sun barely glowed through the curtains of her bedroom window.

If the elbow to her ribcage or the knee in her thigh wasn’t enough to jolt her awake, the voices of her siblings definitely did the trick. Sluggishly shifting to wrap her arms around her siblings, Vivien yawned, “My birthday was on Tuesday, first of all, and, second, what are you guys doing here?”

Oliver was quick to answer, “We rode over on our bikes.”

“Yeah,” Abby agreed. “You didn’t think we’d let you get away with avoiding our tradition, did you?”

“I was hoping I could go a year without a bruised body for my birthday,” Vivien breathed, “but I have to admit, I did sort of miss it.”

Abby rolled her eyes as Oliver sat up, “We wanted to stay at camp after the show, but Dad said we had to go back home.”

“Yeah,” Abby huffed. “Otherwise Mom would get all pissy.”

“Abs,” Vivien scolded lightly.

“What?” Abby asked. “It’s the truth and you know it.”

“It’s still not nice to talk about Mom like that,” Vivien sighed.

Oliver scoffed, “Whoever said Abby was nice has clearly never met her.”

“Look, dickhead-”

Before her siblings could go too far, Vivien interrupted, “So, where is Dad?”

With a sigh, Oliver said, “He and Mom were arguing when we left, but he said he would be here.”

“They’ve been arguing a lot since she missed your performance,” Abby claimed. “Dad said that, if they weren’t already divorced, they’d be getting one now.”

“What about Mom?” Vivien asked, brushing off the statement with ease. “Is she coming?”

Abby shrugged, “We’re not sure. I heard her say something about work.”

Oliver nodded, “And I overheard Dad telling her that work isn’t more important than the three of us.”

“But they just kept arguing, so we’re not sure what’s going to happen,” Abby finished.

“That’s fine,” Vivien said with a grin. “One parent being here is more than enough for me. Besides, Nonna and Granpa are here with Aunt Hayley and Charlie.”

“And you’ve got us too,” Oliver added as he stood from the mattress.

“Yeah,” Vivien nodded. “So it doesn’t really matter whether Mom shows up or not.”

“Exactly,” Abby agreed, pushing herself off of Vivien’s borrowed bed. “Now, enough of the adult shit. Is this going to be a pool party or what? If it’s a pool party, can I borrow one of your swimsuits?”

Shoving away the blankets that had tangled around her legs, Vivien laughed, “Since when do you ask before borrowing my things?”

“Since you glitter-bombed me last time I took your sweater,” Abby said with a roll of her eyes.

“I remember that!” Oliver laughed as Abby pushed him toward the door. “You looked like some six-year-old’s deranged Barbie doll and it was hilarious.”

“Hysterical,” Abby deadpanned, “now leave so Viv can change.”

“You too,” Vivien said, gesturing for both of her siblings to leave the room she had claimed as her own while she searched through her duffel bag for something to wear. “Go bug Nonna and Grandpa George for breakfast or something.”

“But what about the swimsuit?” Abby whined as Oliver tugged her out of the room.

Throwing a floral one-piece at her sister, Vivien laughed, “Just go!”

As Oliver swung the door shut, Vivien laughed as she heard Abby’s muffled voice call out, “Thanks, sissy!” Rolling her eyes, Vivien pulled some clothes from her bag and quickly got dressed before zipping her duffel bag shut and hefting the strap over her shoulder. Leaving her room, Vivien made her way through the hall to where Bentley and Royce were staying with Riven. Finding their bedroom door open and the three of them sitting on the floor with Riven’s Dungeon Master folder sprawled out between them, Vivien leaned against the doorframe with a smirk.

“Well, well, well,” she mused, gaining their attention. “It appears the nerds are busy nerding; I suppose I’ll have to come back later.”

With a roll of his eyes, Riven scoffed, “You’re just upset we started without you.”

“As if,” Vivien chuckled as she made her way into the room and took her place beside Royce. “The one you have to worry about is Erica.”

“You won’t tell her,” Riven said confidently.

“I would if I didn’t think that meant starting World War Three in my grandparents’ house,” she sighed.

“Didn’t think so.”

“Dick.”

“The hugest.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Don’t care,” Riven said with a smirk. Bringing his attention back to the board before him, he said, “Now, we were actually just talking about your character and how you played in Tales of the Yawning Portal.”

“Oh really?” Vivien asked.

Bentley quickly nodded, “He said you leveled up really fast.”

“I wouldn’t say it was fast,” Vivien began, “but I quickly learned how to play my cards right, so by the time we got to the Tomb of Horror dungeon, I was already level fifteen.”

“That’s impressive,” Royce mused. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from her,” Riven said. “She’s great at molding herself to fit in any scenario she comes across.”

“Like that Star Wars campaign we did over Thanksgiving break last year,” Vivien offered.

Bentley’s eyes practically sparkled as he turned to Vivien with a beaming smile. “You can play Star Wars campaigns?”

Riven chuckled, “With a fun Dungeon Master, you can do anything.”

“What was it like?” Royce asked.

“It was great,” Riven said.

“I think it was called Dust and Echoes,” Vivien said. Looking to her skating partner, she asked, “Do you still have the storyline sheet?”

“When don’t I?” Riven asked with a laugh before holding up a finger for the others to wait. Hazel eyes scanned over the folder on the floor before he reached out and pulled a stack of papers from under a flap of protective plastic. Flipping through the pages, Riven lightly shook his head, muttering things to himself until he eventually pulled a page out and set the others on the floor. 

“I should’ve known,” Vivien chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

Clearing his throat, Riven read, “‘While escaping an imperial Star Destroyer, a Rebellion cruiser is forced to abandon ship, scattering the survivors on a nearby mysterious artificial moon. Here they must find their fellow rebels while staying out of sight of the Imperial search parties. When they have a sizable force, they begin surgical guerrilla strikes to accumulate enough Imperial star ships to get everyone away from the Empire, who have begun exploring the strange moon. The nature of the artificial world begins to unfold, as it turns out that it is a creation of an ancient civilization, perhaps the Celestials, meant to expand into a dyson sphere in order to harvest energy from stars. As the Empire rushes to take control of the planet’s bridge with superior firepower and numbers, the Rebels discover that the creators never got the moon’s systems to work properly and that it inadvertently destabilizes stars, causing solar-system wipe catastrophes. So what now? Desperately outnumbered and outgunned, the Rebels are forced to extreme tactics to destroy the Dyson sphere before it is too late.’”

If Bentley wasn’t already enamored with the idea, he certainly was now. The glow of adoration in his eyes was obvious as he spoke up, “I wish we could have played it with you guys.”

“Who says you can’t?” Riven asked. 

“But you guys already played it once,” Royce wondered.

“We’ve replayed campaigns before,” Vivien said. “Sometimes, Riven mixes up the story a little to make things interesting.”

Riven nodded, “Besides, I was already planning on working on some new campaigns.”

“Really?” Vivien asked. 

Again, the auburn-haired boy nodded, “I didn’t want to say anything, but I put together a handful of ideas over the summer.” Picking up some of the pages he had placed on the floor, he flipped through them and said, “Star Wars, Hary Potter, a couple of Halloween ideas I want to mess around with, and a few set in different points of history.”

“Like Hamilton?” Royce asked.

“That’s one of them,” Riven agreed. “I also have one during the Salem Witch Trials, one in the eighties, and a few during the late fifties or sixties.”

Realization flooded through Bentley as he fleetingly met Riven’s hazel eyes. Over their time at camp, he had spent more than a few days talking with Riven about how things were in their world. Had Riven been using that information to create new campaigns? Before Bentley could think about confronting the older boy, Vivien tentatively asked, “Why the fifties and sixties?”

“The space race, mostly,” Riven shrugged. “But I’m not sure on it yet. I know you also wanted to do one based on those Professor Layton games you like so much, so maybe we could use that period for that instead since nobody knows when they actually take place.”

“I thought the games happen in the thirties and forties,” Vivien claimed.

Riven shrugged and began to explain how he hadn’t been able to find any evidence of a concise timeframe for the games in his searches and how he was compromising for the middle of the timeline he’d found as Bentley let out the breath he’d been holding. Glancing toward Royce, he found his brother looking equally relieved for an entirely different reason, but as Riven and Vivien began bickering about continuity and timelines, their attention was drawn to the doorway as Vivien’s dad leaned against the wood, pressing a finger to his lips to keep his presence a secret.

“I’m telling you,” Vivien argued, “the way they dress is typical of the thirties and forties!”

“But one of the puzzles mentions texting which means it had to be at least in the nineties, if not the early aughts,” Riven fought back. “And those double-decker buses are from at least the late fifties.”

“Professor Layton’s car is old, though, you can’t argue that.”

“I can’t, but they made those until the early nineties,” Riven claimed, brushing the brunette off with a wave. “And who’s to say he’s not a car guy who collects clunky classics?”

“But everything else points to it being older than that!” Vivien griped. “The steampunk style was popular way back in the eighteen-hundreds, for crying out loud.”

Before Riven could fire back at the teenager before him, Damien made his presence known as he suggested, “Maybe Layton isn't set in the past, but in an awesome future where the retro of the fifties meets the steampunk of the eighteen-hundreds.”

Whirling around, Vivien’s face split into a smile as she pushed herself from the floor, “Dad!”

Wholly unprepared for the freight train that was his oldest child, Damien found himself stumbling backward as Vivien slammed into him at full force. Bringing his arms around his daughter, Damien lifted her from the ground and took a few steps into the room before setting her down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Are you done harassing Riven?”

“Never,” Vivien and Riven replied in unsurprising unison.

“I didn’t think you’d get here until later,” Vivien said.

Damien chuckled, “I wasn’t about to miss out on Grandpa’s bull’s eye toasts.”

“Ah,” Vivien breathed as she leaned out of her dad’s arms, “so it has nothing to do with me having a party today?”

“Oh, are you?” Damien asked teasingly as he took a plastic tiara from where he'd tucked one side of it in his back pocket and placed it atop his daughter's head. “I suppose I should have brought you a gift.”

With a dramatic sigh, Vivien placed the back of her hand to her forehead and said, “Whatever will I do without a present from my dearest father?”

Chuckling at his oldest daughter’s theatrics, Damien asked, “So, what are you four up to?”

“We were just talking about some new campaigns,” Riven said as he began folding his things together again.

Damien nodded before finding Royce and Bentley and asking, “Are you two planning on joining their group?”

“Yes, sir,” Royce said.

“It looks like fun,” Bentley agreed with a nod.

“It is,” Damien nodded as he moved closer to the group. Finding Royce’s gaze with a grin, he said, “And, for the millionth time, you kids don’t have to call me ‘sir’. I’m not your boss or some military official; I’m your friend’s dad. You can call me Damien.”

Swallowing thickly, Royce minutely shook his head as he muttered, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I could do that, even if I wanted to.”

“You can call him ‘dad’,” Vivien shrugged. “A bunch of my friends do.”

“Do they not have parents?” Bentley asked as his head tipped to the side.

Elbowing his brother, Royce told him off before looking up to both his girlfriend and her father and saying, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Damien chuckled. “But, really, you can call me just about anything and I won’t mind.”

While Royce struggled to find something to say in return, Bentley sent the man his usual, brilliant smile and said, “We’ll work on it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Damien said. Clapping his hands, he smiled and said, “Now, let’s get downstairs before all of the French toast is gone.”

“Nonna made her French toast?” Vivien asked, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

“Mhm,” Damien hummed with a nod. As Vivien took off for the hallway, the older man turned to the boys on the floor and asked, “Are you three coming?”

Riven nodded, “We’ll be there in a minute, Dad. We just need to clean the room before we go.”

As Damien left the room, telling the boys he would see them downstairs, Royce turned to Riven with a curiously raised eyebrow. Once Damien was out of earshot, he quietly asked, “How is that so easy for you?”

Riven shrugged as he put his folder on his bed, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad, but I’ve spent so much time at Vivien’s house that her family is practically mine as well.”

“I don’t think I could do that,” Royce sighed as he pushed himself off of the floor.

“I could,” Bentley said as he sat on the end of the bed he had shared with Royce. At Royce’s confused look, he said, “What? Our dad sucked and Viv’s dad is really nice to us. He deserves the title more.”

Royce’s confusion dissolved as he thought about his brother’s words. While Bentley was, by technicality, right, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of calling someone else’s father ‘dad’ after all their dad had put them through. His train of thought quickly halted as Riven chuckled and stood, patting Royce on the shoulder with a gentle smile as he reassured the teen, “You’ll get used to it, I promise.”

Though Royce nodded in response, he couldn’t help but think to himself, ‘Yeah, right.’

As the day wore on, Vivien found herself tugged in every direction by the people in the house. At first, she was bombarded by people in the dining room, each of them either wishing her a happy birthday or wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug. Her siblings, eager to recant the tales of their summer and hear about their older sister’s time at camp, pulled her to the backyard to talk after breakfast, but their conversation was cut short as their grandparents pulled everyone into the lounge to discuss their plans for the day. Once they were done and everyone went their separate ways, George and Dawn pulled their oldest grandbaby aside to give her a gift away from everyone else - a hand-beaded bracelet that had been passed down to the oldest child of every generation of her family. Upon asking why Hayley hadn’t given it to her, the older couple simply stated that the woman had felt it best to have them give it to her instead as it would mean more from them.

After lunch, Vivien was ordered to stay indoors while her family set up the backyard for the party, but it didn’t take long for Erica to get sick of babysitting duty. “This is so fucking boring,” she moaned.

“I thought you liked this movie,” Jade said with a grin as she gestured to the screen. On the screen, Optimus Prime, leader of the alien group called the Autobots was locked in battle with his longtime nemesis, Megatron. While the others were fairly engrosed in the film and enjoying the surround sound speakers that amplified the fight, Erica had found herself sitting almost upside down in one of the arm chairs, unable to take an interest in the film.

“Normally, yeah,” the blue-haired girl spoke, “but I’ve seen Transformers so much that I know it word for word.”

“Well, if you’re so bored, what do you actually want to do?” Riven asked.

Erica heaved a sigh as she pushed herself to sit like a normal person. Glancing around the room, her gaze settled on Vivien and a scheming grin spread across her face. Meeting the girl’s glimmering eyes, Vivien hesitantly asked, “Do I wanna know what you’re thinking about?”

Instead of answering directly, Erica asked, “Did you wash your hair last night?”

Confused, Vivien slowly nodded, “Yeah, why?”

Standing from her chair, Erica rounded the arm of the couch and pulled Vivien to her feet, “Get ready to look like Grimace!”

As Vivien was dragged out of the room, the others scrambled to their feet, following the pair out of the room as Jade quickly grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Following the others upstairs to the bathroom across from the staircase, the green-haired girl leaned into the room to see what was going on. Vivien had been perched on a chair in front of the vanity mirror and, despite looking mildly worried, she sent her friends a small smile of reassurance as Erica reached into the towel closet and pulled out a plastic Walmart bag wrapped tightly around a box.

Holding the bag out tot he younger girl, Erica said, “Happy birthday, bitch.”

Tentatively tugging the bag away from the box, Vivien laughed to herself as she pulled out a box of Midnight Tanzanite hair dye. “What is this?” she asked.

“Damn,” Erica chortled, “you really do need those glasses, huh?”

“Asshole,” Vivien laughed as she shoved the blue-haired girl.

“Yours truly,” Erica agreed. “Look, you said you wanted to dye your hair after JJ and I did, but that your mom would be pissed. So, after she didn’t show up at the end-of-summer thing, I bought this. Think of it as a bit of payback.”

“Or some really petty revenge,” Riven mused.

Taking in a deep breath, Vivien asked, “What if she shows up today? She’ll still be pissed.”

“So what?” Ignoring Royce’s pointed look telling him to stay out of the situation, Bentley continued, “It’s your body and, if you don’t like it, it’ll come out eventually.”

“Or we can dye it back to brown,” Jade tacked on.

Erica nodded, grateful they chose to back her up, “And, for the record, we don’t have to do your whole head. We can do just the ends or maybe some peekaboo colors under your hair. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

Vivien looked at herself in the mirror, trying to imagine herself with shades of purple tinting the ends of her hair. It would be quite the change from her normal look, but wasn’t that what she wanted? Glancing in the mirror at the reflections of her friends, Vivien scanned over their smiles until she found her boyfriend smiling encouragingly at her. Taking in a deep breath, Vivien glanced at herself once more before looking up at Erica, “Let’s do it.”

Hauling a wooden crate through the storm hatch to the backyard, Miles asked, “Are you guys sure we need all of this?”

“It’s the end of summer,” Hayley replied as she took the box from him. “We always make sure to go out with a bang.”

“I get that,” he said, “but don’t you think this is a little overkill? This isn’t the Fourth of July.”

Damien chuckled, patting Miles on the back as he joined the younger male, “Believe me, son, this is tame compared to their usual firework shows.”

“Tame?” Carrie wondered as she set a box of Roman candles on the edge of a folding table. “There are enough fireworks here to blast someone into outer space.”

“As I said,” Damien began with a smirk, “this is tame.”

“Normally, a party like this goes until midnight,” Charlie stated as she neared the group. “There are sparklers for the kids, Roman candles for the adults, firecrackers and aerials for the group, and plenty of drinks to go around.”

With a raised brow, Dawn asked, “You guys don’t do firework shows in Florida?”

On instinct, Miles glanced over to where Mick and Butchy were pulling lawn chairs onto the grass, used to having one of them there to answer questions like that so he didn’t have to. Trying not to stumble over his words, he cleared his throat and said, “Not often, no.”

“How come?” George asked.

Miles swallowed thickly, attempting a smile as he tried to think of something to say. Thankfully, he didn’t have to think for long as Carrie spoke up, “We try not to do a lot of them because Royce has really sensitive hearing and the noise bothers him a lot. It’s easier to just do sparklers and small things.”

After a few moments of muttered understanding, Dawn patted Miles on the arm and said, “I have some ear plugs he can use if he’d like to join us for the whole show.”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Miles said with a grateful smile. 

“I’ll grab them after we do presents,” the older woman said. Checking her watch, Dawn turned to her husband and asked, “Where are the kids?”

Shrugging, George took a bite of the brownie he had swiped from the snack table and said, “No clue. They weren’t watching the movie when I went to get the chips.”

“And you didn’t go looking for them?” Dawn asked.

“Was I supposed to?” George questioned.

As her mother heaved a sigh and shook her head, Hayley stepped up with a grin and placed a hand on her mom’s shoulder as she said, “I’ll go find them. They’re probably playing their dungeon game upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Dawn said.

However, before Hayley could make her way inside to find her niece and the girl’s friends, Erica pushed the sliding glass door open and stepped outside. Loudly clearing her throat, Erica raised her voice and declared, “People of the backyard, I proudly introduce the new - and only slightly cooler - Vivien O’Brian.”

As the blue-haired girl stepped aside, Vivien stepped into the sunlight, apprehension obvious as she smiled hesitantly at her family. Though the dyed strands of her bangs made the change more evident in the light, the underside of her hair was darker and had taken on a deep amethyst tone. Regardless of the slight difference in color, the girl’s smile was all her family needed to see to approve of her choice. 

“Well?” Vivien asked as she glanced between the people before her. “What do you guys think?”

Before anyone else could think of speaking up, Charlie let out a squeal and made her way forward, running her fingers through the ends of Vivien’s hair with a beaming smile. “I knew it would suit you!”

“You knew?” Vivien asked.

“Of course, I did, silly,” Charlie said. “Erica asked me what color I thought would make you happy.”

“I can’t believe you never told me,” Hayley spoke as she neared the pair. Turning her attention solely on Vivien, however, she smiled, “You look amazing, baby girl.”

Before Vivien could say more, her dad joined them and said, “They’re right. It suits you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Vivien said with a smile. “Mom might not think so, but-”

Damien shrugged, “To hell what she thinks. You’re happy with it and that’s all that matters.”

As the twins stepped up, Abby said, “Yeah, who cares what Mom has to say about it?”

Nodding, Oliver agreed, “You look great, Vivi.”

“Thanks, guys,” Vivien chuckled.

“It’s kind of like one of those crystals in your windowsill,” Oliver mused.

Smirking at her brother, Abby offered, “Let me guess - amethyst?”

Quickly, Oliver shook his head, “The way there are different shades of purple all mixed together makes me think of charoite.”

“Since when have you listened to me about my crystal collection?” Vivien questioned.

“I always listen,” Oliver shrugged. “Just because it doesn’t interest me doesn’t mean I can’t listen to what you like.”

“Awe,” Vivien cooed, wrapping her arms around her brother who looked just thrilled by the interaction. “That’s so sweet, Olly!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver mumbled, patting his oldest sibling on the back before she could pull away.

As everyone separated and returned to their previous tasks, Vivien made her way to where her grandparents stayed, watching them as they set out a handful of fireworks they’d use once the sun went down. Stepping between the older couple, she asked, “How are you guys?”

“Proud,” Dawn said, turning to smile at her granddaughter.

“Very,” George added as he brought an arm around Vivien’s shoulders. 

Taking Vivien’s hand, Dawn said, “I remember when you used to dye your hair with Kool-Aid.

“That was ages ago,” Vivien snickered.

“Just goes to show how much you’ve grown, little one,” George said.

Squeezing Vivien’s hand, Dawn said, “Why don’t you go over by the fire pit and we’ll do presents.”

Vivien nodded, yet paused to ask, “What about my Mom?”

“We’ll cross that road when we get to it,” George shrugged. “For now, just enjoy your time with family.”

“And friends,” Vivien added.

“I think, by now, they’re just as much your family as we are, eaglet,” Dawn chuckled. Patting her granddaughter’s arm, she said, “Now, go have fun.”

Once Vivien was far enough away, George nudged his wife and said, “I told you that purple was her color.”

“I can’t argue that,” Dawn agreed, “but her aura is definitely green.”

It wasn’t until they had already had Vivien blow out her candles and cut herself the first slice of cake that the now seventeen-year-old’s mother showed up, grumbling complaints about her heels sinking in the grass as she rounded the side of the house. Though the woman looked ready to complain about Vivien dyeing her “beautiful, hickory hair,” she bit her tongue and gave her eldest child a quick embrace before sitting at the picnic table where the food was kept. After making some small talk, Chelsea wished her daughter a quick “Happy birthday” before handing over Vivien’s gift - a one hundred dollar gift card to Abercrombie.

“Abercrombie,” Vivien mused with an obviously strained smile. It would have been one thing if Vivien actually liked the store in question, however, Vivien had only bought something from store once in her life and it was a dog sweater for Loki. Abercrombie wasn’t even on her radar when she went shopping, but Vivien knew it was one of Abby’s favorites.

Chelsea hummed, already back to tapping on her phone - something for work, presumably. Glancing up at her daughter, she said, “School is starting soon and you’re graduating this year, so you need to look more professional.”

“Professional?” Vivien echoed.

Again, Chelsea hummed in confirmation, “Enough of the cartoon shirts and distressed jeans. You’re almost an adult; you should at least look like it for once in your life.”

Forcing herself to keep her opinions to herself, Vivien thanked her mother and tucked the gift card into her pocket before asking her friends for help bringing the rest of her presents inside. Once they had set everything in the hallway by the front door, Vivien slipped the gift card into Abby’s purse and encouraged everyone to go change into something for the pool. After changing into her swimsuit for the party, Vivien met her friends in the hallway and followed them back out the backyard where they began filling their plates with food and desserts. 

Cake frosting and ice cream puddled together on their plates as they talked, their potato chips gradually growing soggy as the melting ice cream inched closer. As the sun fell further over the horizon the adults began to prepare the fireworks as everyone else gathered in the pool to watch from a safe distance. As a majority of the group gathered by the edge of the pool bracing their arms over the side or relaxing on pool floats to watch the fireworks explote over the hill beyond them, Vivien took Royce by the arm and brought him to the middle of the pool.

Taking out one of the ear plugs Dawn had given him, Royce asked, “What’s up?”

Vivien smiled, “I find it’s quieter to float in the water while the fireworks go off.”

Nodding graciously, Royce took Vivien’s hand in his and said, “Thank you, but are you sure you don’t want to be with everyone else?”

“If I wanted to be over with them, I wouldn’t have offered.”

Before Royce could say anything more, Vivien released his hand, stepped back, and sank into the water, pushing herself to the surface before patting the water beside her as an invitation. With a breath of a laugh, Royce tucked the ear plug into his ear once more and followed suit, allowing the water to flow around him as Vivien took his hand once more. While Vivien was right that the water muffled any remaining sound, he still heard the faintest of blasts as the first firework erupted in the slowly darkening sky above them. 

As brilliant colors illuminated the sky alongside the setting sun, Royce took in a deep breath and sighed. The summer was almost over and, with it, the end of their stay in New Hampshire. All too soon, he would be on a flight back home, waiting for the ache in his chest to go away enough for him to focus on his everyday tasks. Granted, they would be back in just a few months and he would be able to video chat with Vivien and her friends during their visits to Mick’s family’s home, but it wasn’t quite the same as actually being there. Turning toward Vivien, Royce smiled at her wonderstruck expression, the glimmering displays above them glowing against her skin. Shades of red, blue, purple, and gold shone in the reflections of the water, making a sort of halo around those in the pool.

As Vivien turned to say something to him, she froze, raising an eyebrow curiously at her boyfriend. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but instead, she lowered her voice and asked, “I know you’re asthmatic, but how long can you hold your breath under water?”

Taken aback by the question, Royce thought before asking, “I’m not sure, really, but I’ve gotten better with it after taking surfing lessons with Mick. Why?”

Lifting her free hand into view, Vivien said, “I think the bracelet Nonna and Grandpa George gave me is at the bottom of the pool.”

Royce moved, looking around at the dark water as though the bracelet would appear if he squinted long enough. “I’ll look for it,” he told Vivien as she moved to look for the bracelet.

“It’s beaded, so it should be easy to find at the bottom,” she told him.

Nodding, Royce sucked in a deep breath before ducking under the water, using his hands to feel around the bottom of the pool as Vivien joined him. They hadn’t gone far since getting in the water, but as Royce looked around, he couldn’t seem to find the bracelet anywhere. Taking in another breath of air as he neared the edge of the pool, Royce turned around toward where Vivien had been searching and ducked back under the surface of the chlorinated water. Finding himself face to face with a grinning Vivien, Royce raised an eyebrow at her, wondering if she’d found the bracelet. Instead, she merely shook her head before placing her arms around his neck and pulling him close.

It seemed she wanted to catch him off guard, as she always did with quick kisses to his cheek, but this time, he leaned in at the same time and they finally met halfway in a kiss. For a fleeting moment, Royce stared at Vivien in shock, but when she didn’t pull away, he allowed his eyes to slide closed and his hands to come up to her face. As Royce had anticipated and grown anxious over during the duration of their relationship, the kiss was awkward, but he was melting nonetheless because it was Vivien he was kissing. If oxygen deprivation hadn’t been a thing, he was sure they would have stayed there in that moment for the rest of the night. However, with the knowledge that his lungs would begin to cry for some semblance of fresh air if he didn’t move soon, he pulled away from Vivien, preparing to go up to the surface. Even so, he still kept his hands on her face, simply because he didn't want to let go yet.

Slowly peeling his eyes open, Royce found Vivien smirking back at him, mischief glinting in her emerald eyes. As fireworks exploded overhead, Vivien pointed upward, silently asking him if he needed air. Although he nodded, Royce pulled Vivien close once more and pressed another kiss to her lips. It wasn’t long or intense, but it was certainly enough to throw Vivien off as she let out a flurry of bubbles. Smirking at the wide-eyed Vivien as he pulled back, Royce took her hand from the back of his neck and pushed to the surface, taking her with him. 

As both of them took in some air, Vivien looked to Royce and breathed, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

With a breath of a laugh, Royce replied, “Neither was I!”

After a moment of laughter, Vivien tentatively admitted, “I liked that. Like, a lot.”

“Me too,” Royce admitted with a smile. “A lot.”

Vivien beamed, utterly proud of herself despite the reddening embarrassment flushing her cheeks. As Royce let out a relaxed sigh and looked back up at the rainbow of lights flashing in the sky, Vivien dug into her pocket and held her bracelet out for him to see. “Look,” she told him.

“Oh, good!” Royce softly exclaimed, holding the end of the bracelet as he smiled in Vivien’s direction. “Where’d you find it?”

“In my pocket,” she explained. Meeting Royce’s gaze, she confessed, “I just wanted an excuse to kiss you.”

“You didn’t need any excuse,” Royce claimed. “You could have just asked and I would have said yes.”

“I know,” Vivien nodded. “But I’ve always sort of wanted my first kiss to be an underwater kiss like Percabeth did in The Last Olympian.”

“Again, you could have told me and I would have gladly helped you.” Royce chuckled, his face gradually reddening as he admitted, “Honestly, you could have just shoved me under and I would have been fine with it.”

Vivien let out a laugh, “Yeah, I guess I could say the same.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Royce said, “Maybe next time.”

Despite feeling her face burn brighter than the fireworks illuminating the sky above them, Vivien found Royce’s caramel eyes and smiled as she nodded, “Yeah, maybe next time.”

[alexlesuagz]

Criminal Case fanfic ideas (because IDK, I’m bored)

[Possible spoilers for all 8 seasons]

{S5} Prequelfic where Amir realizes he’s gay and confides in Rupert about it.

{S5} Rupert having an ace awakening (because yes, I headcanon him as ace) and being extremely confused about his feelings, so he confides in Amir about it. (No seggs, only tea, amirite)

{S3} [TW: SA] Jack finally gaining the courage to tell Lars about Lavinia DeBrils SA’ing him.

{S1} How Chad Whickman and Rose Cassidy first met (because goddamnit, they deserved better).

{S1} AU where Chad managed to calm Joe Stern down, not die, and get the job.

{S2} [TW: Abuse] A day in the life of Duncan Young, living with his mother and sister and having to deal with her emotional abuse.

{S1} Adam Bentley talking with his foster brother at his grave.

{S1} The aftermath of Julian Ramis’s arrest from the perspective of Julian’s parents.

{S2} [TW: Homophobia] The end of Zack and Becky’s friendship.

{S5} James Savage first meets Carter Hayes.

{S4} How Timmy and Bridget Baker first became friends.

{S5} [TW: Implied Sewerslide] Rene Narcisse’s words almost push Julian over the edge until the player and Gabriel show up.

{S2} [TW: Murder] A young Yann Toussaint has an argument with his parents and storms off. That would end up being the biggest mistake of his life.

{S5} Jones accidentally stumbles upon Zoe suddenly using telekinesis.

{S2} [TW: Cults, PTSD, and Implied Abuse] Not even Russell is safe from flashbacks, and surprisingly, the one who helps him out of a PTSD-induced panic attack is Frank.

{S4} The events of Vittorio Cappechi’s murder from Seamus’s point of view.

{S6} One of Amy’s therapy sessions with Marina following Nebet’s betrayal.

{S6} Sirius wonders why Orlando constantly ignores him, so he decides to ask. It doesn’t really go well.

{S6} Sequelfic(?) where Tony meets the player during S1 and tries to recall why they seem so familiar.

{S3} Baxter Fraser goes to therapy.

{S3} AU where Obaasan (IDK how to spell it, sorry) is found dead and Tsukada Hiroshi is alive because he killed her.

{S7} An apology note Dolores wrote to Gwen before her demise.

{S7} Inspired by @katrinahood , a crackshipfic between James Savage and Sam Ellis.

{S5} Crackshipfic between brunette bastard Louis Leroux and Joe Warren.

{S8} Jones and the player bond and catch up after 3 years.

{S8} Hugo Mercier giving love advice to Carrie.

{S5} Jones copes with Tony Marconi’s death.

{S8} Hugo and Jones bond over similar experiences.

{S5} [TW: Sewerslide] Gabriel and Jones talk after Jones’s attempt.

{S2} One of Jupiter’s letters to Russell, apologizing for being a shit dad.

{S5} Jones, Zoe, Alex and Cathy have a double date.

{S7} Larry Zarus goes on a car ride with his friend and business partner, Bernie. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in a coffin. His own coffin.

{S4} Charlie reveals that he can’t slow dance for the life of him. Maddie decides to teach him.

{S2} [TW: Abuse] Frank confronts Miriam Young about her shit parenting.

{S2} [TW: Abuse] Duncan confronts his mother about her shit parenting. It goes as well as you’d expect.

{S2} [TW: Abuse and Death] The day the Young siblings’ father died was a hellish day indeed.

{S5} [TW: Underage Drug Use] Julian and Vicki smoke weed together and have a chat about life.

{S7} Dolores tries to figure out a way to apologize to Gwen.

{S7} Arthur Darkwood never really enjoyed the small things in life, and he never noticed until he spent time with the Supernatural Hunters.

{S5} Jones is lowkey kinda lonely, so Ramirez decides to set him up on a blind date to cheer him up. Unbeknownst to Ramirez, Jones’ blind date was one of his old college acquaintances — Zoe Kusama.

{S6} The “Altered Present” Arc, but Lars is in it for some reason.

{S7} Zander Stark and Danny Kwame were queerplatonic bros, change my mind— (I hc Zander as bisexual and Danny as omniromantic asexual)

{S8} Cody reminisces on his failed relationship with Eleanora.

{S8} Prequelfic where Jean-Phillipe slow dances with Marguerite.

{S5} After skipping the trial of Rosamund Wilcox, Julian runs into Chelsea Bloom and they have a chat.

{S7} Human AU where Arthur and Reggie decide to have some “brother bonding time”, so they go to a local art museum. Things don’t go well.

{S4} Seamus makes eye contact with Giulietta at Mr. Alastor’s party.

{S2} A series of noteworthy recorded conversations between Bobby Prince and his therapist over the span of a year.

{S3} 5 times Jonah tries to smile and the first time Marina makes him smile.

{S3} [TW: Kidnapping, Torture, and PTSD] Elliot claims that he’s moved on past the whole “Anbu Devanesan” thing. He has not.

{S6} Serap and Roxelana’s love story, starting from their first meet.

{S6} Noah Lowe gets some advice from Ian Devine about love and life and shit (also, Noah lives in this fanfic concept, because bro deserves better).

{S7} AU where Rathimael lives, Arthur lives, and they live a peaceful life together in a small lakeside cottage on the outskirts of Michigan.

{S2} “What happened to the Francis I loved and cared about deeply?!” “He’s dead, and I killed him a long time ago.”

{S2} Bobby Prince’s last thoughts were about the idyllic life he would live with Amy via the virtual reality. (This was inspired by Bojack Horseman btw) (No I do not like Bobby Prince)

{S5} [TW: Attempted Murder] AU where Zoe survives Louis’s attempt on her life.

{S3} [TW: Implied Abuse] Michelle Zuria’s traumatic childhood at the hands of her nanny.

{S5} [TW: Sewerslide] AU where Jones decides to go home after Leroux is arrested, and the player decides to accompany him. Possible alternate endings available.

{S7} Fabien de la Mort chills out and asks Gwen for advice on how to properly swoon a certain someone (*cough*, Luke Fernandez, *cough cough*)

{S7} [TW: Murder] Ruth Wu’s final moments were in utter agony. (Deserved tbh)

{S4} [TW: Murder] Elias Willingham pays local pimp Kristopher Bauer for information about his missing daughter. Like many moments in the Criminal Case universe, things do not end well.

{S7} AU where Arthur Darkwood survives the events of S7 and decides to join the Supernatural Hunters.

{S2} Anjulie Cruz breaks up with Bobby and remembers all the red flags he showed while they were dating.

{S1} AU for “The Rorscach Reaper” where Ramirez arrives just in time to arrest Tess — but too late to save the player.

{S5} Canon divergence after Zoe’s arrest when Jones confronts Marconi and breaks down. Marconi talks him out of doing anything foolish and the two of them just talk while lying down on the grass.

{S7} Arthur never really had a family (besides Reggie, but we don’t talk about Reggie) due to being a demon. One of the Supernatural Hunters (probably Hope Newman) makes an offhand comment about how he’s family to them. (Bro deserved better imo)

{S5} [TW: Attempted Murder] AU where Nathan manages to regain consciousness just before Kit pulls out the snake.

{S6} Series of transcripts from Marina’s therapy sessions with different Criminal Case characters, including Jack, Amy, Jones, Chief Arrow, and Arthur Darkwood.

{S5} Prequelfic where Joe Warren meets his new college roommate, Louis Leroux.

{S2} After the events of “Once Upon a Crime”, Frank decides to call his daughter to tell her what happened.

{S5} [TW: Sewerslide] Either Alex, Grace, or Ramirez get the call about Jones’ attempt on his own life.

(I’m perfectly fine with y’all using these, just please ask first and credit me!)

[cherrygorilla]

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 2)

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne - 4:53

Yes, it is a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted anything to do with this (or anything at all really), but I've been dying to write for this story again, so I thought it would be a good way to help me get my groove back. Plus, I wanted to wait until Camp Wanamaker was done before I went back to working on Acting School Drop Out (because I feel like I might be able to use some stuff that's been mentioned in the next part lol). So, after months and months of uni stress that's kept me away from my google doc, here's the next installment of the story that's kept me going through it all.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Heavy eyelids dropped over a pair of umber eyes trying, and failing, to focus on the computer screen in front of them. Whilst the radio often felt like Butchy's only co-worker, today it just seemed to be functioning as a lullaby machine - and the smooth, fade-out ending of Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' just proved the point further. One second he was staring blankly at a page of pixelated text on a fuzzy screen, and then the next thing he knew he was drooling into the palm of his hand and almost falling off his chair at the sound of a car racing past his window. 

It's not even that he was tired - it was barely even 11am for Christ's sake - he was just so bored his brain was shutting down from lack of stimulation. And considering the latest turn of events, his body wasn't far behind. The roaring engine disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the incessant ticking of the plastic wall clock in its place. It didn't matter what kind of car it was, or where the hell it was going; all Butchy knew was that he wanted to be in it. Hopefully travelling far, far away from this crappy, dead-end town, and this shoe box of an office, that was more dust than desk, and smelled like a wet rat. 

Begrudgingly, he gathered himself together and finished typing out the latest file he'd been working on - something about trespassing in the old steel mill, he didn't care enough to look into the details. Tipping his head back, he rubbed his palms across his eyes, trying to press as hard as he could to draw some sort of alertness to the forefront of his mind. If anything, it just made him more tired.

One glance across his desk let his gaze settle on the dorky Star Wars mug Royce and Bentley had gifted him on his last birthday, and for the first time since he'd slumped in the splitting leather swivel-chair that morning, a ghost of a smile graced his features. He took a swig and drained the mug of the last of its contents: bitter, room-temperature coffee. Wincing at the taste, he picked up the next file to work on, but swiftly dropped it in favour of refilling his mug. After all, the walk to the coffee pot in the main office was the only change of scenery he got all day. Sometimes he watered the dying yucca plant beside him with the rancid liquid just so that he had an excuse to get away from his desk.

The tapping of keyboards and mumblings of the same, tedious phone calls he overheard every day met Butchy's ears as he lumbered down the hall and pushed open the office door. Lurking behind the frosted panel, caked in as much dust as the rest of the building, was the rag-tag reception team, consisting of three women Butchy had absolutely no intention of even looking at, let alone speaking to. He'd given up trying to make conversation with his co-workers pretty quickly after every meagre attempt on his end had been ignored. Most shifts passed without him uttering a single word. However, Lela ditching his ride that morning must have thrown him off more than he realised, because this shift was about to become an anomaly. 

"So I said to him: If you know so much about the damn sausages, why don't you cook 'em yourself?" 

"I bet he knows a lot about one kind of sausage."

"Oh Jen, pull your mind out of the gutter, you sound like a teenager."

"She practically still is one."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

A strained sigh slipped past Butchy's lips before he could stop it. The nasal drones from the women behind him were enough to make his eye twitch at the best of times, but the added scraping of Jennifer's nail file made it inevitable. Before he could short-circuit altogether though, one of the adjoining doors to the main office was pushed open, and the conversation unfolding behind it immediately caught his attention. 

Heaving a sigh that put the young trainee's to shame, the fourth, and final receptionist, led the charge into the room - two officers hot on her heels. "Well, you'll just have to go alone then, won't you, gentlemen?" 

"We can't just 'go alone', the chief's the only one that goes on solo investigations. What if it's dangerous? What if we need back-up?"

"And what, pray tell, Officer Reynolds, is so 'dangerous' about a broken store window?"

"Well from the sounds of things it's a pretty clear-cut robbery. What if the culprit's still on the scene? What if he's armed?"

"Why are you assumin' it's a 'he'?" Jennifer piped up with a smirk, punctuating her question by blowing the acrylic dust from the tip of her nail. 

As expected, neither officer batted an eyelid at her interruption. 

"We got the call last night. You've got a higher chance of him sticking the damn window back together."

"But what if it's like that time when Old Man McRoberts'-"

"Enough, boys. I don't want to hear it," she finally snapped, slamming the stack of paperwork down on her desk so hard it even made her glasses chain quiver. Turning to the pair with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she continued. "Callahan, you're on patrol with Officer Powell; Reynolds, you're investigating that store window. Alone."

"But Fran, that never-"

"No, I don't want to hear another word. You're going solo, Reynolds, and that's that." 

"...Uh, I could go with you."

The whole office fell silent. Even Jennifer's nail file seemed to pause for thought. But all too soon, six pairs of eyes fell on Butchy, whose grip on his mug instinctively tightened under their bemused glares. He couldn't exactly blame them; even he couldn't believe that he'd dared to speak - let alone suggest such a thing. But then again, this was a perfect opportunity - perhaps the only opportunity he'd get (at least for the foreseeable future) to prove himself a worthy member of the team. Being stuck behind a computer screen all day was getting him nowhere - in fact, he was pretty sure he had even less respect now than when he'd first set foot through the door over a month ago. But working on a case, a real case, meant he could put all the skills he'd learnt in his training to the test - show everyone that potential he'd promised in his interview. This could be the making of Officer Bandoni. This could be his ticket out of that godawful, stuffy office. This could be-

"Oh my god, look at his face; he's serious."

God, he hated Jennifer. But he hated that cackling laugh of hers even more. 

"Jennifer," Linda, the crotchety receptionist to her left, scolded. If Butchy hadn't known better, with her brusque, hushed tone and sharp glare from over the top of her tortoise shell glasses, he'd have thought the woman was her mother. 

"Yeah right," Officer Callahan snorted. But a pause, followed by a brief glance in the new recruit's direction soon had his confidence faltering. "I- Oh…" 

"Hey, cut him some slack, Jen; the kid's still learning the ropes," Officer Reynolds piped up, ignoring Officer Callahan's attempts to hide his smirk by smoothing out his moustache, and instead sending the smarmy receptionist a blasé, yet stern frown. "Of course he wasn't being serious."

"Actually, I was," Butchy corrected. He set his mug down and stood his ground opposite the two officers, gently nudging his chin up and puffing out his chest in an attempt to outwardly show some of the confidence he was so desperately trying to scrounge together. At least that would help to mask the stubborn rage bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. The staff's dismissiveness was frustrating enough on its own, but being reduced to a 'kid' was downright infuriating. 'Kids' did not single-handedly raise their little sister. 'Kids' did not give up their weekends to go and work in a shitty garage for two bucks an hour all throughout high school just so they could have food on the table. 'Kids' did not shoulder the responsibility of four adults after stepping up to parent, not only his own sister, but the three boys next door too. Butchy hadn't felt like a 'kid' in years. He had always been the oldest - the most mature, the most dependable, the most capable… So for these six adults, who had barely given him the time of day in the month he'd been working with them, to stand there and tell him he was nothing more than a 'kid'...it was insulting. And he was determined to prove them wrong. "If you need another officer for back-up, and no one else is free, then why can't I go with you?" 

"Well, for one, you're not an officer-"

All Reynolds had to do was hold up a hand for Callahan to snuff out his snickers. "Because you haven't finished your training yet, son," he plainly explained. At least his withering look was softened by a bored tone. 

"But I've aced every part of the course I've completed so far," Butchy argued. "And this could be a chance for me to learn on the job, out in the field-"

"Son, let it go."

"You said, yourself, that I've got potential. Why can't I just show you-?"

"Look, kid, you're not ready - you won't be for a long time. I admire the optimism but we've gotta look at the facts here. And truth is: the dirt on Callahan's shoe's got more experience walkin' 'round a crime scene than you do. I know you want to get out of the office and get a taste of the action, but I can't work the case and babysit you at the same time. It's just not realistic."

'Babysit'? Butchy could feel the word in the palm of his hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist around it, crushing it, along with all its juvenile connotations. "I'm not a 'kid', I'm eighteen years old," he insisted, choosing his words and tone very carefully as he fought not to lose his cool. 

"Yeah, and I'm not a chainsmoker neither," Jennifer sniggered, appearing to have swapped her nail file for a cigarette during the confrontation. She took a long drag as her, deep, carob eyes latched onto his, lashes sprawling across a rough sea of streaky kohl, before letting the smoke leak out through her crimson-painted smirk. 

Butchy didn't know what was more nauseating: her attitude or the stench of tobacco hanging in the air. 

Officer Reynolds let out an exasperated sigh that soon stole back the trainee's glare though. "That's all well and good, but it's not gonna change my mind. You need more experience before you go out in the field, Bandoni," he explained, with an expression that told Butchy he was well-weary of the conversation now. "You can't learn to run before you learn to walk. It's just not realistic - if anything, it's naïve."

"But how am I supposed to get more experience when I'm stuck behind a desk all day?" 

Butchy's question was shot down though as the pair of officers crossed the room to the office's main door, back to their usual routine of barely acknowledging his existence. "If I'm not back by two for your CPR training, Officer Powell will handle it, okay?" Reynolds said as he plucked his hat from the coat stand in the corner and secured it atop his head of thinning, taupe hair. Knowing the new recruit wouldn't be satisfied with any answer he could give him, he'd just decided to brush the question aside altogether. 

And knowing that defiance, and further provoking, would get him nowhere, Butchy finally relaxed his hand, and gave a stiff nod. He silently watched the officers announce their departure to the room and felt his shoulders slump in defeat, his chest aching with betrayal. Officer Reynolds was supposed to be his mentor, the one who would take him under his wing as he learned the ropes - and yet he'd kicked him to the curb and spat in his face the one time he'd tried to do the right thing. At least that's how it felt to him anyway. 

"Bye boys," Jennifer trilled with a flirty giggle as the office door closed behind them. Tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, she turned her vampish smirk to Butchy. "Nice little show there, Bandoni. And there I was thinking today was gonna be boring." 

Butchy's frown deepened as her scornful laughter battered his ears. The thick-headed she-devil wasn't worth his breath though - even the sickened huff that escaped his throat felt like a waste. His fingers once again closed, although this time they at least found the warm ceramic of his mug beneath them. Letting the heat seep into his skin, he took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to focus on anything else other than the anger boiling in his chest. At least the Star Wars mug, and the memory of receiving it, gave him something to anchor himself to: a way to discharge all the bitter resentment that had been steadily building for weeks, but had finally come to an ugly head. One more snarky comment from Jennifer and he'd have hurled the coffee at her sloppy up-do, he knew it - he could feel himself teetering on the brink. 

And yet, a friendly hand in the centre of his back was all it took to draw him back from the edge. "I should be thanking you," Fran said with a sympathetic chuckle, and roll of her eyes at the officers' expense. "I thought they'd never leave."

Managing a weak, but grateful smile to the receptionist, Butchy finally picked his mug up from the drink station and took his leave before he could draw any more unwanted attention to himself. Jennifer's squawking voice still rang in his ears as his footsteps pounded down the hall, desperate (for once) to shut himself away in his office. At least in there he knew he was safe from further embarrassment, even if the only thing waiting for him was a stack of files on petty traffic crimes. Apparently reading about speeding fines and parking tickets was all the excitement his life could afford him for the time being. But, for once, he actually found some comfort in that. 

"Well, Wuthering Heights, you were fun while you lasted, but I am not going to miss you," Vivien snorted, holding the worn paperback out in front of her, as if to address it like an old friend. 

The gentle chuckles that bounced the soft, chocolate brown curls beside her set her innocent little middle-school heart aflutter, and she caught herself clamping her lips shut in case it tried to escape. Craving the thrill of that sensation again, she snatched a shy glance in his direction before plastering the jovial grin back on her face. "Thank you for the 'A' though, Emily." 

"What are you thanking her for? We did all the hard work," Royce scoffed. "I wrote so many notes on the moors I'm pretty sure I almost gave myself Carpal Tunnel."

A snicker crinkled the brunette's nose. "Well you do have the neater handwriting."

"And you have all the good ideas," Royce chuckled, praying desperately that the prickling he felt across his cheeks wasn't what he thought it was. 

Stopping in front of a set of painted metal doors, Vivien turned to him with a disapproving frown. "Not all the good ideas." 

"Fine… most then."

Whilst Royce may have been able to keep his blush at bay, Vivien felt hers raging like a wildfire as she downplayed his compliment with an affectionate eye-roll and pushed her way out into the crisp autumn air of the Hawkins Middle parking lot. Hopefully a bracing breeze like the one that smacked her across the face the second she set foot onto the asphalt would help her systems stop running on overdrive, because right now she felt like a live wire about to catch light. One wrong move from Royce and he'd be fried to a crisp. 

Wrapping her free hand around the forearm that flanked him, protecting his arm from being barbecued should he decide to fondly bump her as they fell into stride once more, Vivien, composure regained, offered him a smile. "I guess that makes us a pretty good team then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he agreed, holding her gaze for a beat and letting the sincerity of the moment swell alongside the tingly, warm feeling spreading through his chest. "...And we've got the A to prove it." Terrified by the sensation, he snorted out a laugh that shattered the tenderness of the moment just as awkwardly as how he almost tripped over his own feet because he was spending more time looking at Vivien and her freaking dimples than where he was walking. Damn his stupid hand-me-down sneakers from Miles and their stupidly long laces.

More awkward, cheerful chuckles tumbled from the middle schoolers' lips as Royce steadied himself again and they made their way over to the cluster of trees by the soccer field. It didn't take Vivien long to break the comfortable silence that had fallen over them though. "I don't know what we're going to do with ourselves now that project's finished; it completely took over our lives for like two whole weeks there."

"I'm sure we'll find something."

But Royce's laidback grin was the complete antithesis of Vivien's tense shoulders and skittish gaze. Then again, he had no idea what she was planning, or what her skating friends had been begging her to do for weeks. 

It couldn't be that hard, right? It was just one little question. She asked him questions all the time, this one didn't need to be any different. And besides, there wasn't really anything Vivien felt as though she couldn't talk to Royce about; he was her best friend, he was always her first port of call for anything that was bothering her - well, unless it was about something like her period; that was strictly for her mom…

But this was just a question: one that could very well have been asked without another thought had she not attached all the extra weight to it in her mind. And yet here she was, fighting her own tongue, trying to persuade it to recite the script she'd meticulously planned out in her head the night before, because for some reason it wasn't convinced by her promised ability to brush the sentiment off as 'just a friend thing' should Royce take it badly. And neither was her mind, really. 

Realistically though, what was the worst thing that could happen if he had a weird reaction? It's not like a meteor would crash out of the sky and strike them both down or anything, no matter how much she may want it to in the moment - she knew; she'd checked and it wasn't the right time of year for it. The worst that could happen is things might be a little awkward between them for a couple days, right? He wouldn't- 

-Actually, scratch that. Vivien didn't want to think about it. 

"Well, actually…" she began, before she could talk herself out of it any further. 

Vivien felt Royce's gaze land on her the second she stopped to clear her throat, which had become inexplicably scratchy ever since those last words had left it, clearly so reluctant to be said they'd dug their heels in the entire journey out into the cool, October air. And as soon as it did, it felt as though all her sweat glands released at once, adding a glistening sheen to her already crimson skin. Horrified, Vivien kept her gaze on the ground a few paces ahead of her to avoid having to find out if Royce had realised, and pushed her round, silver-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose in an attempt to shield herself from further embarrassment as a result of her thirteen-year-old hormones wreaking havoc in her own body. 

Fearing that the longer she dragged this on, the more her subconscious would betray her, she swallowed her nerves and ploughed ahead. "Do you remember how you missed out on going to watch The NeverEnding Story this summer because you had to spend your ticket money on a new wheel for your bike?"

In her periphery, Vivien saw Royce's hand shift up to play with the fraying fabric of his backpack strap. He only ever did that when he felt uncomfortable. She didn't even have to look at him to confirm it either, the pause before he responded told her almost as much as his tone of voice did. 

"...Yeah, but what does that-?"

"Hey nerds!" 

Despite their disdain for the term, both Vivien and Royce's heads whipped around to try to locate the source of the voice, mentally cursing themselves for even acknowledging that the phrase could have been used to refer to them, let alone responding to it. But as green and brown eyes scanned a sparse sea of middle schoolers, searching for signs of anyone with ill-intent, they came up short. 

"Over here!"

The voice, carried on the wind, drew the pair's gazes to a figure, practically standing on the bench of a rotting, wooden picnic table to try to grab their attention and their disgruntled grumblings fell from their lips within seconds of one another, replaced by fond sighs. 

Bentley waved the duo towards him so spectacularly that, for all they knew, he could have been directing a plane to land. And whilst Vivien couldn't help but smile at the blond's boundless energy, she also couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with how easily Royce shelved their conversation by letting out an almost relieved: "Duty calls."

"Yeah," Vivien agreed with a forced smile and a breathy, awkward laugh to match his. Although it dropped from her face the second he turned his back to head over to the shaded seating area. 

Once he was a good few paces ahead of her, and she was sure he was out of earshot, Vivien let out a frustrated huff, so hot she was surprised it didn't steam up her glasses. "Goddammit, Bentley," she muttered, shoving her library copy of Wuthering Heights into her backpack as she started trudging along behind Royce. "I almost got through it all that time."

But Bentley was none the wiser to Vivien's grand plans; too excited by his own news to consider that the pair may have been busy. And besides, the easygoing grin his older brother shot him as he approached made him none the wiser. 

"You've gotta come up with something better to call us, Benny," Royce said, fondly shaking his head as he climbed the last few steps of the hill leading up to the picnic table, adorned by Bentley's friends, the contents of at least three up-turned pencil cases, and enough sheets of paper to paper mache a small child. Thankfully, the table was sheltered from the worst of the breeze, so the most that a stray gust could do was flutter the edges beneath the various, makeshift paperweights (dog-eared textbooks and unopened juice boxes) strewn across the splintering surface.

"Why? You are 'nerds'," the boy laughed as he bounced back down into his spot on the bench seat beside August. 

"We are not," Royce protested.

"It got you to come over here, didn't it?" Bentley replied with a cheesy smirk. 

Royce let out a slightly bitter sigh as he fumbled through a response. "Well- yeah, but it's… demeaning." 

"Then why'd you respond to it?" Kona snorted, apparently more focused on selecting the right shade of crayon than bothering to look Royce in the eye as she insulted him. 

The bluntness of the eleven-year-old's comment drew a snort of laughter from him before he could stop it, whether it was in amusement or incredulity though he'd never know. But the smile that threatened to envelop his disapproving frown stayed firmly in place as he said, "Because I'm so used to everyone else calling us it, that's why. And you shouldn't be contributing to the problem anyway; I thought we were all on the same side here."

"You calling us nerds, RJ?" Zack piped up with a challenging quirk of his eyebrow. 

"Pot calls the kettle black," Royce smirked.

"White boy says what now?" Zack retorted with a confused frown that soon gave way to a mischievous grin the second that Royce rolled his eyes and playfully ruffled his hair, insisting through shared laughter that the boy knew what he meant. 

"What are you guys doing up here?" Vivien asked with a breathy laugh of her own as she arrived at the picnic table and caught the end of the boys' friendly roughhousing.

"Having fun until you nerds showed up," Zack scoffed as he shoved Royce's chest in an attempt to get the older boy away from him. But the bubbling giggles that tumbled from his lips as Royce expressed his disdain for the name once more told everyone all they needed to know about how much he enjoyed the brunet's company - proved even further when he resorted to wrapping his arms around his torso and tackling him into a hug from his spot on the bench. 

"Looks like it," Vivien noted with a bemused chuckle. "What's all this then? You writing out your own comic book or something?" she continued, gesturing to the vast collection of paper spread out before the quartet. 

"We're designing our characters for this cool new game Gus brought in," Bentley raved, holding up his sheet of paper for Vivien to see. "Look at my guy, he's got a wand that's disguised as a paintbrush and this magic flute that lets him talk to animals." 

"Damn, Benny, that's so cool," she grinned, marvelling at the artwork with almost as much care as the blond put into creating it. 

"And look, here's the one I'm doing for Gus," Bentley continued, shuffling the papers around until he selected the right one. 

"You didn't want to draw out your own?" Vivien asked the boy, whose sandy blond eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. 

"Nah; Ben's better at art," August admitted, only glancing up from his work to shoot his oblivious friend a shy smile. "And I enjoy the planning part of it more anyway," he went on to explain. "So he's doing the drawing, and I'm filling out his character sheet for him." 

"Yeah, 'cause there was no way I was gonna be able to deal with all that," Bentley snorted.

"This looks like a lot of work for just one game," Vivien noted, inching another piece of paper towards her and finding it covered from top to bottom in meticulously written words, numbers, and the occasional, scribbled doodle. 

"Tell me about it," Kona scoffed. "I feel like we got extra math homework with this stupid number system we've got to work off of," she added with a huff that blew a straw strand of hair away from her eyes. Begrudgingly tapping the open, yellowing pages of an intricately illustrated book with the end of a pencil, she brought the thirteen-year-old's gaze to the table she was drawing from. 

"You guys are willingly doing math over lunch and you're calling us nerds?" Royce asked with a teasing incredulity that earned him further, playful bickering from Zack. 

"So what do you do with all this when you've created your characters then?" Vivien continued, feeling a fond smile tugging at her lips as Royce's unbridled laughter tickled her ears. Fighting the urge to swat the imagined sensation away, she focused her attention on the other children at the table. "What's this dorky wizard math game called?" 

"Dungeons and Dragons," Bentley explained.

Vivien’s ears perked up. “Dungeons and Dragons? That weird roleplaying game Riven plays with his sweaty high school friends?” 

“Who’s Riven?” Kona asked.

“My skating partner,” Vivien said, throwing the explanation away like a used napkin so that she could get back to the main point at hand. 

“Ew, so is he like your boyfriend then?” Kona teased with a devilish wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“No!” Vivien blurted, maybe a little too quickly if everyone turning to look at her was anything to go by. "No, not like… It's just- He's like my brother, ok?" she hurriedly tried to explain, trying to ignore the bile now creeping at the back of her throat the very thought alone had placed there. 

"Ok," Kona snorted, smirking to herself as she caught Royce's shoulders slump in relief in her periphery. Making the ninth-graders squirm was a favourite pastime of hers, and lately, all this girlfriend-boyfriend talk around them, despite making her want to hurl, had been a homerun every time. 

"I didn’t know Riven played DnD,” Bentley piped up, earning himself a grateful smile from Vivien for taking some of the heat off her. 

“Neither did I until he made us switch our practice days so that he could go play pretend with a bunch of dorks out the back of Eddie 'the freak' Munson's trailer."

"Riven's in that weird Hellraiser club?" Royce asked, bushy eyebrow raised in disbelief. 

"My sister says they're all devil worshippers," Zack mumbled.

"It's Hellfire," Vivien corrected. "And they're not devil worshippers - well, Riven's not anyway. As far as I know they're just losers in matching shirts who play make believe like they're still in first grade."

"It's more than just playing make believe," August dared to pipe up with a somewhat defensive frown, immediately toying with the corner of Bentley's character sheet the second the group's attention landed on him. A sideways glance in the blond's direction earned him a reassuring smile that breathed some much needed confidence into his lungs, and as he released it, he said, "There's this whole world you can build your own stories around with all these super detailed characters and a bunch of lore you can discover. I spent my whole weekend reading through the books my cousin gave me and that doesn't even cover half of it. It's like one big choose-your-own adventure story, but everyone gets a say in what happens, and gets to feel like they're a part of it."

A beaming grin and steel blue eyes, sparkling with excitement, found Royce with startling ease. "Doesn't that sound cool?!" Bentley enthused.

"...It actually does," Royce admitted, even surprising himself with his answer. 

"Hear that, Auggie? You didn't even have to mention dragons to convince someone that time," Kona snickered, firing the curly haired boy beside her a smirk. 

"Whatever," Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You thought they sounded cool too," he added with an accusatory nudge of the blonde's elbow that had her cursing him under her breath for making her pencil skim across the page. 

Ignoring his friends' sibling-like arguing, so used to it by now that it honestly would have been stranger to acknowledge it, Bentley kept his attention, and his toothy grin, focused on his older brother. "I knew you'd like it! You're always borrowing those old fantasy books from the library and writing your own versions of them."

"Well- yeah, ok, but what does that have to do with this?" Royce stuttered, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment despite Vivien's small, amused smile. 

"Well this is just like that! Gus wrote out our first campaign all by himself," Bentley gushed before leaning into the shying blond beside him. "That's like the story, right?" he checked in a hushed tone. And after receiving a confirmatory nod, he turned back to Royce with renewed enthusiasm. "The plot, the monsters, the bonus quests - he came up with it all!" 

Bentley pushed a stack of papers towards his brother, bound by treasury tags and bearing enough ink to have drained an entire pack of ballpoint pens. "Holy shit," Royce breathed as he picked it up and began flipping through the makeshift book, becoming more and more stunned with every turn of a page. "You wrote this whole thing by yourself?" he asked August, who timidly nodded. "In one weekend?" Again, the boy nodded, this time a little more eagerly. And Royce could see why. "...Wow," he marvelled, smiling as he watched the younger boy swell with pride. "This is really impressive, August."

"You put some serious work into this, huh?" Vivien noted.

"Yeah, I guess," August admitted as his steadily reddening cheeks were pulled aside by an appreciative grin. "It's not like I minded though," he went on to hurriedly explain. "It all came together pretty quickly once I got into it. Plus it gave me an excuse to shut myself up in my room away from my stuffy aunt and that stupid dog she carries around in her purse," he added, earning himself a bright laugh from Bentley that completely stalled his train of thought. Luckily, it was nothing that clearing his throat and refocusing his gaze on the blond's character sheet couldn't fix though. "I guess I just thought it would be something fun for us all to do together, you know?"

"Yeah, it sure sounds like it," Vivien said with a warm smile. But there was still a little, nagging thought hammering away at the back of her head, and she feared that if she didn't use this opportunity of an out as her last-ditch attempt at getting Royce alone before the end of the school day then that nagging thought would break right through her skull and puncture her brain with its pesky little pickaxe. And she needed all the brainpower she could muster to get through this, so she did not want to take any risks. "Anyway," she continued, snagging the attention of the table of eleven-year-olds as she clapped her hands together. "We'd better let you guys get back to planning. We wouldn't want to be the reason for you guys delaying your first adventure now, would we?" she asked rhetorically, firing a knowing look across at Royce that was not-so-subtly hidden behind a theatrical grin.

If Royce picked up on the intensity behind Vivien's gaze though, he didn't show it, instead remaining as blissfully oblivious as he always seemed to be when it came to her intentions as he took his turn to offer a fond smile to the table of his brother's friends. "You'll have to let us know how it goes," he said, before adding with a chuckle: "I'm invested now; it sounds awesome."

Breathing out a sigh of relief between her teeth as Royce rounded the picnic table to join her, Vivien kept her almost clown-like smile plastered to her face as she thanked whatever great powers were at work for making Royce ever so slightly more perceptive than the other, gormless teenage boys in their class. But just as she was inching her way back down the hill, and readying her opening line for the brunet once they were out of earshot of the eager little gremlins, one of them piped up with a perfectly pointed pin to burst her bubble. 

"Why don't you just play with us then?" 

Bentley's wide-eyed, hopeful grin was the only thing keeping Vivien from snatching up Kona's muddy jump rope and strangling him with it. Besides the years upon years of sibling-like friendship, obviously.

Forcing out a strained laugh, she managed a tight, "It's alright, Benny, we don't want to crash your fun." 

"You're not crashing anything; we want you to join in. Right, guys?" 

Ok, so Bentley can't read social cues… Good to know. 

It would have made things a hell of a lot easier if Vivien could have known about that before she set the wheels of her master plan into motion though, because right now she felt like they were so out of sync they were about to derail the handcar she'd strapped this grand idea of hers to. But even if she could have brought herself to get mad at Bentley, Zack jumped to the blond's defence before she even had the chance. 

"Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get because Kona can't add up for shit and I'm not about to let my guy Omar Scale Crusher die after I've spent all this time working out his stats."

"I can't add up for shit?! What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who got put in Math 2!"

"Only for a week! And I totally got a better grade than you on that test last week."

"No you didn't!"

"Did too!"

"Bite me!" 

As the pair energetically bickered about Zack's accusations, which Kona steadfastly claimed were built on entirely false foundations, Vivien found her frustration with the picnic table occupants crumbling away. After all, they weren't to know that she'd been practising for this lunchtime conversation with Royce for weeks. How could they? The only others she'd confided in were her three skating friends and the balding Big Bird stuffed animal from the end of her bed that had taken on the role of Royce during her many rehearsals. And she couldn't blame them for their excitement over the game either; even she had to admit that it sounded pretty cool. Plus, after hearing Riven rhapsodise about Hellfire's epic campaigns for weeks now, she was starting to get a little curious about the game and how it was played. 

"Omar Scale Crusher, huh?" she eventually chuckled, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Zack that soon ground his and Kona's squabbling to a halt. "How'd you come up with that?" 

"Isn't it sick? Auggie had this big list of names with cool meanings to help us decide."

After shuffling through the endless sheets of paper around him, August found the right one and went on to explain for a very enthusiastic Zack: "Omar means 'one who has a long life'."

"Yeah, so he'd better live up to his damn name! I'm not planning this whole thing out to have him die in the first round," he declared with a hearty laugh, before tagging on: "Plus my uncle's called Omar and he's awesome."

Vivien couldn't help her snort of laughter at the blunt innocence. "Very creative," she noted. "What is he then? Like a viking or something?"

"No, he's a wizard," Zack stated matter-of-factly. "'Cause why would I bother using a sword when I could just kill an enemy with magic?" 

"How come your guy's holding a sword then?" 

Royce's frank delivery, from over the younger boy's shoulder, had a laugh spurting from between Vivien's lips before she could stop it. And Bentley, August, and Kona were all quick to follow suit. 

However, as to be expected, the brash brunet soon scrambled a retaliation. "Well I'd still want one for backup."

"No duh," Kona chuckled as she finished shading in the metallic sheath of the dagger her character clutched in a leather clad fist. "Magic or not, you still need a weapon."

"Is your character a wizard too then?" Vivien asked Kona, but the incredulous snort the blonde let out could have told her all she needed to know on its own.

"No, Andromeda doesn't need to rely on magic to keep herself out of danger; her dexterity's off the charts." 

Before another argument could break out between Zack and Kona as a result of her roundabout dig at him, August decided to speak for the table. "Zack’s our mage, Kona's our thief, Ben's our Bard and my guy's a ranger."

"But you're the dungeon master too, right?" Bentley checked, mischievous blue eyes peeking out from beneath furrowed bows. 

August's own eyes were drawn to Bentley's the second that he'd opened his mouth, but the smirk tugging at his friend's lips was what captured his attention. "What's so funny?" he challenged through a chuckle that coaxed one out of Bentley too. "You don't think I could be a dungeon master?"

"I never said that," Bentley laughed. But the look the boys shared meant they both knew that's what his tone had implied.

"You didn't have to."

"Well can you blame me? It just sounds so menacing and scary. I know you read all those horror books and stuff, but come on, you're about as intimidating as Winnie the Pooh - who, last time I checked, was still tucked under your comforter next to your pillow and your old baby blanket."

Jaw dropped in incredulity, August lightly elbowed Bentley in the ribs. "I can so be intimidating," he retorted. But if he was pretending to be mad at the boy, his true feelings were soon revealed by the smile he couldn't seem to keep off his face.

"Yeah, well, we've yet to see it," Kona bluntly noted, which once again set Royce and Vivien off giggling at the sixth graders. 

"You sound like you've got a pretty well-rounded group then," Royce carried on, drawing the conversation back to August's point from earlier. "Are there even any roles left for us? Or are we going to have to start doubling up?"

"You can double up if you want, but there's still a bunch of classes that haven't been picked yet," August explained, flipping through the large book spread out before him until he got to the right page. "We've not got a druid, a cleric, or a fighter."

"What does a fighter do?" Royce asked.

"Fighters are weapons-oriented warriors, who fight using skill, strategy, and tactics," August recited from his handbook, bringing the group's attention to the detailed illustration of an armoured swordsman, wielding what looked to be an incredibly heavy shield with almost no effort at all.

The second Vivien's eyes met the page she knew it was game over; her imagination kicked into overdrive and tossed all other thoughts about how she could have been spending this lunchtime to the curb. Racing at a million miles an hour, her brain plucked ideas from seemingly thin air and began piecing together a muscular young woman, strong enough to knock an ox clean off its feet in one quick shove, although you'd never know it since her frame was cleverly disguised in roughened leather padding, tarnished silver armour, and rich, violet robes fashioned into a sort of cape. Her face was weathered, but kind, and her vibrant, emerald eyes sparkled with determination, and the promise of adventure. Like the picture in August's book, the woman carried a large, battle-scarred sword by its ornate handle, and kept a hefty shield vigilantly by her side, painted in, again, deep shades of indigo, violet, and the blood of her enemies, naturally. She also had a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder though, nestled beside a crossbow, just peeking out from behind a head of flowing, chestnut locks. The heroine had no time for preening, so her hair was tousled with grease and grime from combatting the elements on her journeys, but as it fluttered in the wind, it was kept away from her face by intricate braids, weighed down by silver rings and stolen jewels of amethyst and topaz. She smiled at Vivien from the forefront of her mind, as if marking her territory there, and Vivien felt her heart skip a beat as she breathed out a quiet, and hopefully nonchalant: "Hmm…cool."

"That sounds like a good one for you, Viv. Strategy and tactics? You're great with planning stuff out," Royce noted. But one glance in her direction and his face broke into a knowing smile the second he clocked her eyes, glazed over in thought, and lips, parted in awe. 

"Yeah, and look, you'd make a great cleric," Bentley continued, pulling Royce's gaze away from Vivien, albeit reluctantly. Flipping the page of August's handbook, he excitedly tapped at a drawing of a tall man, draped in heavy, fur pelts and bronzed chainmail. A glowing staff was held in one hand, and a massive axe was thrown over his shoulder as though it weighed no more than a sack of flour. 

"Clerics are versatile figures, both capable in combat and skilled in the use of divine magic," August recited from the page after a light, nudge from Bentley. "They're also powerful healers."

"See? That's perfect for you! You're always helping patch us up if we fall off our bikes," Bentley enthused, undeterred by the amused chuckles that his brother unleashed as a result of what he thought was an adorably innocent explanation. 

"Yeah, and we could use a healer on our team, especially with those two and their lack of impulse control," August snorted as he gestured to Kona and Zack, who jumped at the chance to express their indignation. 

As the group of friends returned to jovially bickering amongst themselves, Royce and Vivien's minds were quietly whirring with ideas. Ideas which, upon glancing at one another, they soon realised were all too perfectly aligned. 

"What do you say then, losers?" Kona finally asked once she'd finished fighting her ground against the boys, snapping the eighth-graders out of their heads and bringing them back to reality with a knowing smirk. "Are you playing with us or not?"

Royce, as always, left the decision to Vivien. But the hopeful glimmer in his caramel eyes, paired with her own, itching curiosity made that decision all too easy. And besides, even if she wasn't spending time alone with Royce, she was still spending time with him. And that was good enough for her.

…For now. 

"Well… I guess one game couldn't hurt, right?" she said with a smirk that soon broke out into a grin as Bentley's face lit up like a firework display. And it only grew when she glanced across at Royce for one last confirmation that she'd made the right decision, only to find him beaming with almost as much enthusiasm as his brother. 

If this nerdy little game brought Royce this much joy, and was even half as much fun as it sounded, then Vivien knew it would be worth another few hours of crippling anxiety. Besides, she hoped that she could immerse herself in the story so much that she'd forget all about her predicament with the brunet anyway. But as they took their places at the picnic table, and Royce's sneaker brushing against her shin shot a jolt of adrenaline up her leg with such a force that she almost jumped straight back out of her seat, she knew that that was just wishful thinking. Covering up the brief waver in her cool, confident exterior with a quiet cough, she tried to refocus her mind on the endless streams of information August was unleashing on the pair of them.

"-and so the group our characters all belong to is called The Circle of the Emerald Torches, but part of the first campaign is about how we get our name, so I'll explain more about that later. Before you start, and before I give you your character sheets though, if you want to be in our party then you'll need to recite the Oath of Noble Heroes so that we know you're serious about this."

"Don't worry, we had to do it too. But it's so cool, you'll love it! And then there's a declaration of loyalty for you to sign somewhere too," Bentley tagged on before the boys started animatedly babbling amongst themselves about the ins and outs of their party's rules again. 

Shaking his head at the pair, Royce took the opportunity of them being distracted to lean over to Vivien and teasingly chuckle, "What the hell have you just gotten us into?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the boy, knowing that his enthusiasm for the game was a major driving factor in her decision to play, and that he was also well-aware of that fact, she looked him square in the face and hid her smirk behind a deadly serious, blank expression, "I'm pretty sure we just joined a cult." 

American History, Volume 2, lay open on page 38. And it had laid there like that for the past 45 minutes, having been abandoned by its current owner almost as soon as it had been removed from their backpack. Because instead of completing the assigned history homework, the desk's occupant was using their study hall period much more wisely: by shredding a solo, courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne, on possibly the most prestigious instrument of all: the air guitar.

Ethan's eyes slid shut, and a blissful smile curled his lips as he mashed the volume button on his Walkman with practised ease. Bar after bar of 'Crazy Train' pounded through his skull at a staggering volume, rattling what little of his brain was left in the mostly vacant space between his ears, helped along by the bopping of his head in time with the song's beat. When his fingers weren't plucking out riffs on imaginary strings, they were banging out the drumline on a drum kit that was just as real as his Gibson SG. And all the while, he was passionately miming the lyrics for his audience of the pencil shavings and dust mites that hugged the wall beside his desk. 

He felt the music in his bones. The bass line pumped through his veins. Every note that was played resonated through the chambers of his heart until it felt like the song was as much a part of him as his left arm. And the deeper he let himself sink into the music, the less aware of his surroundings he became - or the less he cared to remember them anyway. Until a sharp elbow to the ribs shattered his rockstar illusions, that is. 

Bleary brown eyes met earnest, steel blue, and held nothing but confusion for the several seconds it took him to realise that Miles’ mouth was moving without making a sound. 

“What?” Ethan bellowed, prying a wailing headphone speaker away from his ears as he leaned closer to the exasperated brunet. 

“Jesus, man!” Miles exclaimed under his breath as he reached across to his friend’s Walkman to frantically turn the volume down. “Are you trying to blow your eardrums out or something?” 

“That would be pretty metal, so maybe,” Ethan chuckled, entirely unphased. But Miles’ disapproving frown soon had him rolling out an explanation. “You’ve got a front row seat for my biggest show yet and you’re choosing to lecture me about volume control? I can care about my hearing when I’m in the retirement home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you make it to a retirement home," Miles snorted. "You've got the survival skills of a two dollar house plant."

Instead of arguing back, or even rolling his eyes at his best friend's dig, Ethan just continued chuckling along in agreement as he slid his headphones down to rest around his neck - still blaring out Ozzy Osbourne's vocals, although they were only just audible over the hubbub of chatter and laughter that filled the rest of the classroom. "What were you saying before anyway?" he went on to ask. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, the answer to number four."

"Pfft, you think I've even made it past one?" Ethan guffawed, astonished and highly amused that Miles thought highly enough of him to assume he hadn't been shirking his responsibilities all afternoon. "I've got no fucking clue. What chapter are we on again? Abraham Lincoln?"

The mix of despair and disbelief Ethan was faced with when he glanced back across at Miles told him his guess might not have been as accurate as he'd pitched it to be. "...Are we not on Abraham Lincoln?"

"We haven't done Abraham Lincoln since freshman year," Miles deadpanned before letting out a chuckle of his own. "When was the last time you actually paid attention in one of Mr Bishop's classes?"

"Probably freshman year," Ethan noted with a laugh, slumping back in his seat and starting to rock on the back two legs of the flimsy, plastic chair. "I think the only chance I've got at retaining any of the information in that textbook for this month's pop quiz is if I eat it."

The look of reproach Miles shot the carefree stoner could have fooled any passerby into thinking that he was the boy's father, but he blamed that on the past however many years of having to act as a sole parental figure for two young boys - who, on several occasions, had actually proved to be far more mature than the lank-haired brunet before him. More often than not, Ethan felt like a third child he had to keep alive. And somehow, his lack of height was not one of the driving factors behind that reasoning.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look," Ethan groaned, ever the resentful teenager in their relationship. "You've not exactly been Mr Studious yourself today."

"What are you talking about?" 

"Well you've been stuck on that same question for the last twenty minutes 'cause you keep making goo-goo eyes at you know who," Ethan smirked as Miles' eyes widened in horror and his forehead started to prickle with sweat. 

"No I don't," he indignantly tried.

"I thought you said you were over her," Ethan teased.

"I am! It's not like that anyway," Miles muttered, then added. "And it's not been twenty minutes."

"It totally has."

"How the hell would you know? You've been listening to Motorhead since we sat down."

"Yeah but my fuckin' eyes still work," Ethan snorted, hitting Miles with a loving grin that had him rolling his eyes before Ethan had even finished his sentence. And yet, the boy's frustration did nothing to deter him from probing further. "What's the stalking for this time then? You know, if you're not trying to get in her pants anymore." 

Miles was at as much of a loss as Ethan. His eyes found the head of bouncing, blonde curls with almost no effort at all (likely a result of an entire study hall period of practice), searching for some sort of answer. But all he found was a dull, fluttering in his chest. 

Even the giddy, lovestruck butterfly that had been trapped in there for months seemed to have admitted defeat. 

Still, his gaze never wavered. He watched airy laughter spill from her glossy lips, and her nose crinkle beneath brilliantly blue eyes, framed by thick, black lashes and copious amounts of mascara. Whilst before, Miles could have eaten through a movie theatre's entire popcorn supply and still want to look just a little longer, in that moment he just felt empty. And that’s when he realised it wasn't actually Carrie herself that was occupying his mind, it was everyone else around her, and how she was treating them. Plucking a proudly presented flyer for a house party from one, impishly teasing another, waving at Sharon Frye on her way out the door, firing a flirty wink in jest at Steve Harrington after giggling at one of his jokes…

Miles was certain she'd looked at every other person in that room at least once since their study hall period had begun, and yet the closest her eyes had ventured over to him was when she glanced at the clock on the wall. Every thought in his head was plagued by her smile, or her voice, or her laugh… Had he ever even crossed her mind? 

"Do you think she actually cares about us?"

Miles hadn't been able to bring himself to tear his forlorn gaze from the blonde in question, but that didn't stop Ethan from snorting out an answer. "Well yeah, I'd hope so; we spend enough time with her." 

"Not by choice," Miles huffed. 

“Well she talks to us now, and that’s more than we could have said before we worked with her, so that’s got to count for something,” Ethan chuckled. “But if this is about what I think it’s about, then she absolutely cares about you, dude. Like way more than the rest of us.”

“You really think so?” 

“Dude, it’s like you two are glued at the hip. I can’t get you away from each other for shit once we close every night,” Ethan replied. And when Miles still looked unsure, he added, “Why else do you think I always get stuck cleaning the kitchen with Mick? She hates my guts!”

“No she does not,” Miles softly chuckled.

“Well I definitely don’t think she likes me, not like Carrie likes you anyway,” he retorted with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’m telling you, man. There’s something there. There’s no way she’d laugh at your crappy jokes like she does if she didn’t at least have a little interest in you - I don’t care if Mick thinks it’s bullshit, I know I’m right.”

Miles just rolled his eyes, but a hopeful smile desperately pulled at his lips, no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it. “I don’t know, I think she probably just does it to be nice,” he mused, watching as Carrie animatedly responded to Rachel Price before turning back to resume her conversation with the girl sat beside her - the very girl that Miles still had an irrepressible urge to swap lives with: Juliet Harmon. Now faced with nothing but the back of her head, he quickly lost interest in the view. “…She seems to act like that with most people.”

“She definitely does not, man. Why do you think the entire marching band is scared to look her in the eye? She’s like one of the biggest bitches in school,” Ethan scoffed. But he paused when he realised Miles wasn’t laughing along with him. “Why does it matter how she acts around other people anyway?” 

“It doesn’t,” Miles huffed. “…Not really.” 

But the second he dared to make eye contact with his oldest friend, the floodgates opened and the truth came tumbling out. 

“I just…feel stupid for letting her get in my head, and for actually thinking that we had something special - that I was somehow different to all the other idiots who throw themselves at her to get a second of her attention. But here I am, thinking about her constantly, hanging onto every interaction we have like my fucking life depends on it, only for her to… Ugh, I don't know. I just…don't want it all to not mean anything to her, when it means so much to me - no matter how much I try to convince myself it doesn't. I mean, yeah, she's nice to me at work - really nice - but she barely even acknowledges me outside of All Skate… It's like I don't even exist, like she doesn't even realise I'm there. And it makes me feel like shit."

"She barely acknowledges anyone," Ethan absentmindedly mused. "I wouldn't take it personally."

"That's a lot easier said than done," Miles huffed dejectedly. There was something freeing about Ethan's nonchalance over Miles' feelings though; it made them feel less suffocating. And whilst he still felt entirely hopeless about the situation, he did feel a little bit of the pressure ease off as he rested his chin on his hand and let his mind start to wander. "...You think she actually considers us friends?"

"Sure; she calls us her work friends all the time."

"No but like her actual friends," Miles clarified. 

"Dude, I don't fucking know; the female mind is a mystery to me at the best of times, but hers is on a whole other level," Ethan scoffed in incredulity. "Do you not remember that like thirty minute debate I had with her about diet sodas? Actual insanity.”

Miles' quiet chuckling as he reminisced about what had started as an innocent question, yet progressed to a full-blown screaming match, with each participant equally as confused and frustrated as the other, was soon silenced by Ethan's next prompt though. "I know a way you can find out though…"

"...No!" 

"Oh come on, man. Don't be a sissy. It'll be so easy. And then you can stop getting hung up on all these bogus hypotheticals."

Miles' initial horror slowly dissipated as Ethan's reasoning started to lure out a far greater force from its hiding place in the corner of his brain: his curiosity. "...You really think I can just go up and talk to her? In class?" he asked, as his eyes once again found that jumble of golden curls. 

"Sure, why not? It's only study hall." 

Again, Ethan's nonchalance, which was only heightened by the fact that he was trying to balance a pen on his curled upper lip as he responded, did far more for Miles' confidence than any pep talk of his own could have. And besides, maybe he was onto something - maybe it really was that simple; it always was in his world. 

"It wouldn't be weird?" Miles double-checked. 

"Why would it be weird? All you're gonna do is talk to her. And we already established you two are friends, so what could go wrong?" 

Miles shuddered at the very thought. "So much."

Ethan glanced across at him, ready to fire out further encouragement like a sixth grader with a penchant for making spitballs, but when he clocked his friend's nervous fidgeting, he reconsidered his situation and gained a little clarity. "Ok…yeah, fine, stuff could go wrong. But are you gonna die?" he proposed.

"No," Miles begrudgingly mumbled.

"Are you gonna break something?"

"No, but-"

"Then how bad can it be?" Ethan cut in with a lopsided, optimistic grin before Miles could tie himself up in any more self-conscious knots. "Just get over there and scratch that itch that's been bugging you for weeks; it's not gonna stop until you do. And you'll feel so much better after."

It took Miles by surprise every time it happened, but yet again, it seemed as though Ethan might actually be…right. This question of Carrie's loyalty had been eating away at him for weeks now. And, as he'd stressed earlier, it was making him feel shittier and shittier with every day he let it drag on. Asking her outright was a definite way to get his answer… It was just going to require him growing some balls, as anything to do with All Skate's resident disc jockey apparently made his own shrink to the size of peas.

"...Just walk over and talk to her?" Miles checked. Although, between us, he was just stalling to give himself more time to muster some courage.

"Yeah, as a friend," Ethan confirmed. 

"You really think I can pull that off?" Miles asked with a dubious, but hopeful quirk of his eyebrow that had Ethan melting like a bomb pop that had been left out in the 4th of July sun.

"Absolutely," he grinned, totally enamoured by his friend's giddy trepidation, and the promise of a relationship he so steadfastly defended. "She's got a major soft spot for you, man. I see it like every night," he went on to reassure. "There's no way she's gonna blow you off. You'll be fine."

And as a result of that dopey grin, complemented by the ratty, chestnut locks, and vacant, dark chocolate eyes… Miles believed him. 

"...Ok, I'm going in," he breathed through a determined smile. 

"Atta boy," Ethan chuckled, fist-bumping Miles before tipping his chair back onto all four of its legs again, as though to signal the resolution of their predicament. "Go scratch that itch," he added, finishing their little handshake with a bolstering point before lifting his headphones back over his ears and disappearing back into his wildest rock star fantasies - totally oblivious to the disaster about to unfold right behind him as Miles took a deep breath and waded into the wild, uncharted waters of the female mindset. 

"So now that we know that y=7, we plug that into this side of the function, that we've already simplified, to give us this…which then means that we can carry this over here, giving us x=3." 

…Silence.

"Right?" Juliet checked, although the satisfied smile that had settled on her carnation pink lips as soon as she finished the sum was beginning to falter into one of desperation as she turned to her tutee. "Did you follow along ok that time?"

But all Juliet was met with was a glassy stare and an infatuated grin, smushed between two fists as its owner rested their chin on their palms. "You're so smart, Julie," Carrie breathed. 

Juliet just rolled her eyes, although she did little to hide the bashful blush tickling her cheeks. “Never mind that, did you understand how I worked it out that time?” 

"...Kind of?" Carrie tried, offering a lopsided, hopeful grin to try to lessen the blow.

If Juliet's exasperated huff was anything to go by though: it didn't work. But her frustration dissolved the second that she met Carrie's gaze. "Where did I lose you?" she asked with a gentle, patient sigh. 

"The whole reversing the function bit," Carrie admitted as she bit her lip and braced herself for Juliet's reaction. Although the blonde's expression never wavered, the dismay that flashed in her eyes soon had Carrie barrelling through an explanation. "I swear I was getting it before that this time, but then it all started to sound like you were talking in another language, and then I got distracted by that pretty way you write out the 'x' again, and then I just…"

"...Stopped listening all together?" Juliet teasingly offered with a fond smirk.

Carrie scoffed in mock-defence. "No, I listened the whole time, I just stopped taking it in," she went on to clarify. But as soon as she drew a giggle from Juliet's lips she melted into that same infatuated grin from earlier as she admitted, "I'd never stop listening to you. You know I could listen to you talk for hours."

"Even about algebra?" Juliet teasingly tested with an affectionate smile of her own. 

"Of course about algebra," Carrie gushed with a glittering honesty that soon had Juliet giggling again. "Believe it or not, this is the most I've ever understood a math module," she carried on, straightening up in her seat to help give her point a little more credibility, before tagging on a jovial, "And it's all thanks to you, smarty pants."

"Would you stop calling me that? It's so lame," Juliet protested, hiding her smile behind a frank eye roll. "And besides, I'm not that smart." 

"You so are; you're like the smartest person I know," Carrie gushed, never one to let her friends downplay their successes, much to Juliet's disgruntlement. The blonde's frown didn't deter Carrie from continuing to lovingly babble straight through her stream of consciousness though. "That brain of yours has to be huge - no wonder you get headaches all the time, it's because it doesn't have enough space in there."

Carrie's knack for making herself giggle never failed to make Juliet smile, but yet again she found herself trying to cover it up with a bashful roll of her hazel irises as she let out a sigh and attempted to get their conversation back on track. "You wanna try another question then?" 

"Don't try to change the subject," Carrie fired back with a mischievous grin. 

"I'm not, you are!" Juliet retorted, biting back an incredulous laugh. "We're supposed to be doing algebra, not Juliet 101."

Carrie's mischievous grin only broadened. "Now that's a class I might actually get an A in."

Rolling her eyes for the third time at her best friend's antics, Juliet teasingly tried, "What? Not an A+?"

"Maybe," Carrie smirked. "But then again, I might get distracted by my teacher." Her wiggling eyebrows soon had Juliet reprimanding her and attempting to draw her focus back to her school work, but Carrie's mind was already wandering off too far down a different path altogether. "...Do you think you'd ever wanna be a doctor, Julie?" 

The comment, that fell slap-bang in the middle of Juliet's offer to rewrite the steps of the previous algebra equation, baffled her into silence - so taken aback by the suggestion that she almost thought she'd misheard the golden-haired girl. "What? No," she spluttered, looking at Carrie as though she'd just sprouted a third nose. "Where did that come from?"

Juliet's confusion didn't seem to faze Carrie though, because her dreamy smile stuck it out through her whole, rambling explanation. "I don't know, I just figured you should use your big brain for a job one day. You know, like one that actually actually makes you think instead of just like a working a cash register, or stacking books or something. And you need to be super smart to be a doctor, so…"

Juliet was quick to shoot down Carrie's optimistic grin. "I do not have what it takes to be a doctor, trust me."

"Sure you do," Carrie defended. "I'd let you be my doctor."

"Oh well then hand me my diploma," Juliet sarcastically replied, once more fondly rolling her eyes and chuckling at her best friend's enamoured stare and incessant bolstering. 

"I'm serious," Carrie pressed on though, determined to get through to Juliet despite her doubtful smirk. "I'd trust you with my life, you know I would. I'd let you save my life any day of the week," she grinned. But, after giggling to herself and absentmindedly twirling her pencil between her fingers, when she finally latched onto Juliet's hazel gaze again, only to find it significantly less jovial, it was her turn to express her confusion. "What? You don't believe me?" she teasingly challenged, with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

But Juliet still didn't seem to be in the mood to joke back, as her lips fell in line with the horizon and her gaze darted to Carrie's right before finding her again. 

Ok, now Carrie was really confused. 

"Huh?" she murmured, clearly not as in tune with her best friend's thoughts as she assumed she was. 

However, this time, Juliet flicked her eyes to Carrie's right with a touch more resolve, and paired it with a slight, but very purposeful nod of her head in the same direction. And finally, Carrie seemed to get the message. 

Following Juliet's line of sight, Carrie turned to look over her shoulder, only to find herself face to face with a person that almost caught her off guard as much as Juliet's sudden shift in dynamic had. "Oh," was the first word to jump from her lips, startling her back into what Juliet lovingly dubbed as 'show-mode' as she rolled her shoulders back and fixed a brilliant smile to her face. "Hey, Miles."

The second that Carrie acknowledged Miles, any confidence he'd managed to trick himself into conjuring fled. And whilst he had a Herculean urge to do the same, he too plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile to his face as he finished his approach to the blondes' shared desk. "Hey, Carrie," he said, breathing a sigh of relief for even managing to get the words out. And yet, he still pushed a little further to add, with a nod of acknowledgement too, "Juliet." 

The entertained smirk that started pulling at the corner of Juliet's lips in response caught him off guard, and he felt his stomach gently clench in defence. But he chose to ignore it, returning his gaze to Carrie's bright smile - its familiarity putting him back at ease and igniting that usual fire in his chest that sent warmth spreading throughout his- 

Wait, why was she turning back around? 

"Right, where were we?" Carrie said, dazzling Juliet with a grin as she readied her pencil on the page. "I've got a good feeling about this next one; I think if you just take it slow-."

"Ahem," Juliet interrupted. Her gaze caught Carrie's once again and held onto it for a beat before she tilted her head forwards, signalling with her eyes that there was still something - or rather, someone - behind her. The confusion, almost disbelief, swimming in Carrie's eyes made Juliet have to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, and locking onto Miles' look of bewildered dismay just made it even harder. But luckily, Carrie was quickly able to decipher her visual message once again, with little prompting this time.

Turning around to find that, to her surprise, Miles hadn't just been greeting her as he passed by her desk, he was, in fact, standing there - well, expectantly shuffling from foot to foot anyway - Carrie remounted her smile. Although now, Miles realised, it wasn't so welcoming. It felt almost…uncomfortable.  

"Oh, sorry. Did you want something?" she offered. 

He did - desperately so. And yet, he felt as though the sudden shift in tone had already started to write out his answer. 

The hairs on the back of his neck started to twitch as the walls of his stomach steadily closed in tighter. But, determined to stand by his heart, and prove to himself (and Mick) that his feelings weren't all built on fantasies he'd created in his head, he brushed the unease away and stood his ground. "No, not really. I just thought I'd…stop by…see how it's going."

Carrie's smile faltered again, giving way to further confusion. "...See how what's going?"

"...Study hall?" Miles said. But the response came out as more of a question than an answer, which he supposed was down to the fact that he wasn't even sure of it himself. And despite his hopeful grin, which he feared was now looking more like a grimace, he couldn't seem to stop trying to rub the growing discomfort from the back of his neck. 

God, he hoped that he didn't have any sweat stains. 

"Oh, uh, it's going fine," Carrie politely replied. Although her awkward fidgeting with her pencil's eraser told a different story. "We're just going through the algebra homework."

It was weird; it wasn't as though the conversation was making her seem 'off', it was like…the very fact he was talking to her was so distracting she couldn't settle. She was the centre of Miles' universe. And apparently he was just an asteroid in hers: a misshapen hunk of space rock, hurtling past in the blink of an eye, and completely blindsiding her with his very insignificant existence. 

A fellow asteroid must have collided with him at some point, because he could feel this weird twinge in his chest, by his heart, almost as though the impact had chipped a corner off. He swallowed thickly, pushing the creeping discomfort away. "The one for Mr Moreno's class?" 

"Mhm," Carrie confirmed with a nod. 

"Oh, nice…" Miles trailed off with an awkward chuckle and what he feared was now looking like a rather desperate smile. And he was sure his expression only got worse when his gaze was pulled off-course by Juliet, who gave him a look that made him want to give up altogether. How her hazel irises had managed to harness the ability to hiss 'you are totally blowing this' in his ear, he had no idea. And yet, the urge to prove her (and everyone else) wrong gave him the motivation to plough on. "Well, if you still need any help with it later, I don't mind going through some of the answers with you at wo-"

"It's alright," Carrie bluntly cut in, slicing out a chunk of Miles' self-esteem as she did so. "Julie's got it covered," she added, turning to dazzle the blonde with a brilliant grin. 

By the time that grin made its way around to Miles though, it felt cold. And it seemed suppressed, like she hadn't really wanted him to see it. What he feared was the beginnings of a smirk were tugging at the corners of her lips too. And whilst he wanted to believe that it wasn't at his expense - some cruel inside joke the pair of blondes had whispered with their oh-so talkative eyes in the second that Carrie's back was turned - something in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. 

"Thanks though," Carrie lazily tacked on, with a brightness in her tone that just felt hollow to Miles now. 

"No problem," he breathed. But there was a problem, and he was staring right at her.

Miles tried to find it in him to mean the smile he sent her, but he just couldn't. Somehow, what was supposed to have been a simple conversation between 'friends' had left him feeling more insecure than ever. Why was she so difficult to talk to? And was she making it so difficult? If they'd been at All Skate, cleaning the rink after their shift, he'd have had no trouble talking to her - their conversations flowed like the Mississippi River when it was just the two of them. And yet here, he felt like he was trying to coax water out of a rusty garden tap in the peak of a summer drought. 

He couldn't find the words to piece together what he wanted to ask - he didn't think such a sentence existed, not one that he could construct anyway. Carrie seemed hellbent on getting rid of him, which did nothing for his creeping fear that she was only nice to him at work because she had no other option for company. And the damn heat radiating from Juliet's pitying smirk had so much sweat running down his back he contemplated running to the nearest bathroom to wring out his underwear. 

And somehow, those glittering, sky blue eyes of hers still threw him a line - a glimmer of hope to cling to. After all, she'd surprised him before - countless times - maybe she'd be able to do it again.

Just as Miles was moving to open his mouth to try one last time though, he was beaten to it. 

"Was there anything else you wanted? Or was that it?" 

Any hopes of a redemption for the blonde were snatched from Miles' grasp, and the reality of it felt like a punch to the gut. Thoroughly deflated, he accepted his fate with a heavy sigh. It may not have been the outcome he wanted, but at least he had an answer now, and there was a silver lining to that, he supposed. 

"...No," he breathed through a forlorn, but relieved smile. "That was…that was all."

Miles felt he must have imagined the concern that flickered in Carrie's gaze - wishful thinking, he supposed - because the airy giggle and laidback grin she flashed him certainly didn't marry up with it. "Oh, alright then. See you later!" she chirped with a wave as he started the walk of shame back to his desk. Again, just as he was turning back to offer a farewell of his own though, she managed to get her words in first. "Don't forget your thick socks."

Miles stopped in his tracks. Now he was more confused than ever. The cheeky glint in her eyes, the knowing smile, the reference to a throwaway joke from their closing shift last night… Everything he'd just come to terms with about her vehement disinterest in him had been called into question with those five, simple words, and a wink that just about made his heart stop.

…Maybe she did really care after all. 

With his heart leaping up from its dejected slumber, Miles shot her a grateful smile and chuckled an earnest, "I won't." Breathing out a contented sigh, mind already racing with ways to talk to her about this more that evening, Miles finally felt his shoulders relax as he raised the hand that had been rubbing the back of his neck his whole time. "See you la-"

Nevermind, she'd already turned around to talk to Juliet again. 

Again the brunet was flummoxed. The only thing he felt truly confident about as he slunk back to his desk was the very thing he'd been warned of before wading into that mess: the female mind was a mystery. And he had never felt further from figuring it out.

Turning back to Juliet, Carrie couldn't help but shake her head and chuckle under her breath. "That was weird," she noted, tilting her head in the direction of her retreating co-worker.

But Juliet's eyes had never left the bumbling brunet. "Mmm… He's kind of cute," she mused. Although her prompting smirk was lost on her tutee, since her sapphire gaze was immediately pulled to the back of Miles' head.  

"Yeah." Carrie's breathed response fell from her lips with startling ease, so much so that it even surprised herself. Hoping to catch it before it slipped into Juliet's ears though, she shook the starry-eyed gaze from her head and scrambled together a cover-up. "Uh, yeah? I can try to set the two of you up if you want. You know, put in a good word at work and stuff." 

If she expected Juliet to accept her optimistic offer with open arms though, she was soon proved wrong.

"Yeah something tells me he's not interested in me," she snorted.

Carrie looked at her, perplexed. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't he be? You're like a total babe."

"Oh come on, Carrie. Please tell me you know that he's got a major crush on you," Juliet said with an almost disapproving frown. "Like major major."

Carrie scoffed at the accusation. "It's not major," she tried, rolling her eyes in a further attempt to downplay the gravity of what Juliet was implying. 

"Carrie," Juliet pressed as she knitted her brows. "The guy could barely speak."

Caving under the blonde's hardened gaze, Carrie let out a resentful huff. "Ok fine, so he's got a little crush," she finally conceded. "What's so bad about that? It's not like anything's gonna happen; he knows I've got a boyfriend."

"Mhm… And what does Eric have to say about Miles?"

Carrie rolled her eyes so hard Juliet thought for a second that they might never come back down again. "Why does it matter?" she groaned, her skin prickling with irritation. 

"Well he's not exactly got the best track record when it comes to being understanding about you hanging out with other guys," Juliet sighed, with a sneaking suspicion that her tutee's frustration had been triggered by the mention of her boyfriend's name alone: a welcome sign that their relationship was as healthy as ever. Not.

Carrie scoffed as a bitter scowl settled into place. "It's not like I'm 'hanging out with him', we just work together. I barely talk to him during my shift anyway, only when we're clearing stuff up at the end."

"Oh yeah?" Juliet started, curiosity piqued. "And what happens then?"

"Nothing!" Carrie insisted. "We just talk - you know me, I can't keep my mouth shut even when I want to, so of course I'm gonna talk to the guy." Letting out a sigh to try to blow off some steam, she softened under Juliet's gaze and allowed the blonde to lead her through her haze of thoughts. And if Juliet's gentle nudge in the right direction wasn't already enough to do the trick, one glance at Miles' retreating form completely burst the dam. "We've been talking for like the whole last hour of every shift since I started - about school, movies, whatever really - it's like the only thing in that dump that's worth sticking around for. I kind of just did it because I was bored out of my mind at the start, but turns out he's actually really fun, and sweet too - you wouldn't believe some of the stuff he does for his little brothers, Julie; I've literally gone and cried in the break room before after he was telling me about it. It's that cute." 

"You cry at everything," Juliet countered with a fond, teasing chuckle. 

"Oh come on, not everything," Carrie retorted. Naively hoping that their conversation on the matter had ended there, she let her eyes settle on Juliet's again, only for them to inch open the floodgates once more with a simple bat of her lashes and a tilt of her head. "We just talk and…goof around," she tentatively began - defensive, despite her nonchalance. "You know, make each other laugh about weird things customers have said, or stupid things we did. It's not like we're fooling around or anything. And before you say it, because I know that face: no, I am not leading him on. It's all totally platonic, I swear."

"Ok…" Juliet softly trailed off, taking a moment to choose her words before raising her next point. "Does Miles know it's all 'totally platonic'?"

Carrie let out a groan of despair, as she always did when her best friend lovingly lectured her. "I don't know, Jules. I'm not a mindreader. He's not grabbed my ass or spiked my water bottle, if that's what you're getting at," she grumbled, before promising, "I've got it all under control, I swear."

Somehow, Juliet didn't seem to be buying it; as impervious to Carrie's confident charm as ever. 

"So Eric's totally chill about this whole thing with Miles?" she tested, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.  

"He knows I work with him…" Carrie mumbled.

Juliet nodded understandingly - almost too understandingly - in Carrie's periphery. 

"...And does he know how he makes you feel?"

Daring to challenge Juliet's calculated point with ignorant defiance, Carrie whirled around to meet the blonde's smug expression with a gasp of indignation, and an argument that fell away the second she realised that she didn't have a single word in her head to back it up with. Admitting defeat, she sighed and let her body slump, along with her hopes of her vindication in her best friend's hazel eyes. "Ok, yeah, fine. I know Miles has a crush on me," she confessed. Although the guilt laced into her words steadily morphed into hurt the more she tried to defend herself. "And yeah, I do lean into it sometimes because it makes me feel good about myself. Is that really so bad? Is it such a bad thing to want someone to be extra nice to you for once? Or to give you some positive attention?" 

"No, of course not," Juliet assured, assuming a fierce determination of her own. "I just think your boyfriend should be able to do all those things and more, and clearly he's not."

Carrie sighed, exhausted by the very thought of him. "This isn't about Eric."

Juliet sighed back, exasperated by her best friend's submissiveness, especially when she was usually so domineering. "How can you still want to defend him, Carrie?"

"Because, I love him, Julie," Carrie replied, finally finding the contented smile the thought of him should have immediately slapped on her face. "And because he's a good guy."

"Really? Because he's been nothing but a dick to you lately," Juliet flatly countered, hoping that with a little pushing her friend would see sense. 

"We've just had a couple of arguments, it's not a big deal," Carrie casually defended. "And they're all resolved now, so I don't know what you still have to complain about."

"Just because you had make-up sex does not mean that the problems were resolved," Juliet rolled her eyes before fixing the golden-haired girl with a more earnest look. "Did he actually apologise this time?"

"We talked it out first-"

"Did he apologise?"

Carrie squirmed under Juliet's gaze before muttering a reluctant, "No."

"Ugh," Juliet groaned, rolling her eyes again as she wound up to unleash a rant she'd been working up to for weeks. But, to her dismay, Carrie's defences beat her to it.

"Neither of us did, really. We just agreed to forget it and move on."

"How is that resolving anything?" Juliet asked with an annoyed frown that Carrie was starting to take personally. 

"Well I hadn't thought about it until now, so it must have at least kind of worked," she attempted to justify. 

But Juliet's nettled scoff told her that her stance on the matter wasn't budging. "You and Eric might as well speak two different languages; I've seen a pig and a fly communicate better than you two." 

The comment drew a giggle from Carrie's lips before she could stop it. "Don't try to distract me with your cute, Southern lingo," she said as the amused smile settled on her face and she affectionately bumped her friend's arm - the act bringing both their tempers back down to Earth. Before Juliet could launch into another lecture though, Carrie hoped to diffuse the situation once and for all. "Anyway, we worked it all out and everything's back to normal," she said. Although Juliet's questioning glance made her correct herself, "Better than normal. In fact, we're going to go look for Halloween costumes together this weekend," she finished with an optimistic grin. 

Now that was an improvement. For the first time since they'd sat down, Juliet found herself pleasantly surprised. "The Barbie and Ken costume's back on? I'm impressed. You two really must be getting along." Knowing how excited Carrie had been about the idea, she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of it finally coming into fruition. 

"Oh no, the Ken idea's long gone. I think he's going as a firefighter or something now."

Juliet's optimism shattered in a split second, and yet she stayed frozen in place, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "...You're kidding, right?"

"No, but I don't really mind. I'll just find something else to go as," Carrie sighed through a small, indifferent smile. If she'd spotted the disgust hidden in Juliet's eyes after her last revelation, she chose to ignore it. "It'll be fun getting to plan out my own costume anyway; I've got so many more options now. And plus, the Barbie one was only gonna be a pain in the ass to-"

"You're not even doing a couples one?" Juliet asked, far too concerned with what she was learning to care about hearing out Carrie's excuses. 

"He thinks couples costumes are lame," she explained with a huff. "Or at least that's what Adam told him anyway. He said he wanted to just do his own thing."

"But Carrie, you've been excited about doing a joint costume with him for like a whole year."

"So?" Carrie asked, with an eyebrow quirk of her own, shoving the accusation aside as though she was kicking an ice cube under the refrigerator. "It's just a dumb Halloween party, it doesn't matter what we wear; everyone will probably be too drunk to even pay attention anyway."

"Yeah, but it matters that he doesn't care about stuff that's important to you. He never has, and it's selfish, Carrie - super selfish…" Juliet trailed off with a frustrated sigh, praying that she might finally get the ditzy DJ to see sense. "You need to stop defending his shitty behaviour."

"And do what?" Carrie mumbled, unknowingly giving Juliet just what she wanted: a chance to unleash her anger with the infantile blond bozo and the mockery of a relationship he had roped her best friend into.

"Hold him accountable," she urged, hazel eyes blazing with passion. "Relationships should not have to revolve around making excuses and placating your partner with blow jobs - it's a fucking joke. I don't care about all the 'good times' you guys have, or all the memories you've made; the way you've been treating each other lately is appalling, and you deserve way better," she said, pausing to let Carrie absorb everything she'd just thrown at her before delivering the finishing blow. "And I know you know that too, because you're already looking for it in someone else."

Carrie's blood stilled in her veins. Sometimes it scared her how deeply Juliet understood her, and other times it felt comforting. This was not one of those times. 

She took in a slow, shuddering breath as Juliet's words seeped into her skin, carrying a deep sense of guilt with them. As much as she wanted to denounce Juliet's observations and stand by her own, joyously declaring her undying love for her boyfriend at the top of her lungs…her mouth made no attempt to move from its crestfallen frown. It couldn't, because she knew she was wrong. 

The despondency in the blonde's vacant, blue eyes soon drew Juliet down from her soap box though. This time she approached with a gentle, almost apologetic, smile as she entwined their fingers and began rubbing circles into the back of her tanned hand with the pad of her thumb. "I just want what's best for you, Car," she quietly promised. 

"I know," Carrie murmured, mustering a grateful smile as she squeezed her hand back, as though to say a 'thank you' her mouth wasn't quite ready to commit to yet. "I'm fine, Julie, I swear," she went on to profess. But when she started to get a sneaking suspicion that the statement wasn't all that convincing, she decided to switch up her tactic. "Now can we please get back to algebra?" 

The genuine laughter that tumbled from Juliet's lips was music to Carrie's ears. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say," Juliet chuckled as she picked up her pencil again. 

"I'll do anything to get us talking about something else," Carrie admitted with a woeful chuckle of her own. "And besides, I think I've got a better chance of wrapping my head around this than anything to do with my love life at the moment."

"Boyfriends suck, huh?" Juliet snorted with a knowing smirk.

"Try all boys suck," Carrie countered with a smirk of her own, at last feeling as though some of her signature confidence was leaching back into her frame. Although the pair's giggles took a few seconds to die back down, a mischievous glint remained in Carrie's eyes before she let them glaze over in thought. Mind idly wandering down untrodden paths, a wistful sigh escaped alongside a rogue proposal. "Wouldn't it make life so much easier if we could take them out of the equation altogether?"

Carrie was too lost in thought to notice, but the words that left her mouth forced an entire systems reboot in Juliet's brain. She had to do a double take, certain that she must have misheard her, or had at least missed the joking undertone. But no, the glassy, pensive blue irises held nothing but sincerity. And that confused Juliet more than ever. Her mind whirred with possible explanations for the brainless musings that definitely didn't sound as though they came from a girl in a committed, heterosexual relationship, but before she dared to question her on any, a tanned hand, the size of a frying pan, pulled her prospective interview subject right out of her seat. 

Carrie's eyes widened as she was whisked into a pair of cotton-clad arms the size of tree trunks, hardly able to catch her breath before it was being exchanged for someone else's. A faintly stubbled smile pressed into hers several times before she fully regained her bearings and was able to catch the frying pan hand from travelling too far south of her waist. "Eric," she giggled once she finally managed to inch their lips far enough apart to mumble a greeting against his skin. A subsequent flurry of kisses kept her from elaborating any further though. It was a wonder they didn't pass out from lack of air. 

"Hi, beautiful," he eventually greeted with a smitten grin. But their lips didn't stay apart for long as the dopey quarterback seemed hellbent on keeping his coated in his girlfriend's saliva. "You have a good study hall?" he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against hers. His roaming fingers shattered any hope of his interest in her life being genuine though.

Even if Carrie had wanted to answer Eric's question, his tongue was shoved so far down her throat she couldn't get her words out. "Eric," she finally gasped, jerking her head back from his with a breathy laugh as she felt his thumb start to lift the hem of her cheerleading skirt. "You're gonna get us both detention." 

"I can't help it," he chuckled, pulling her back towards him for another seemingly endless stream of kisses. "I missed you." And whilst a stupefied grin played at his constantly interlocking lips, something didn't feel quite right with Carrie. Her kisses were lazy, almost reluctant, and whilst her body normally felt like putty between his palms, today it felt…stiff. She seemed distracted. And because Eric's head was only ever swimming with thoughts of her, this worried him. "Hey," he gently prompted, nudging her chin with his knuckle to bring her gaze up to meet his. "Everything ok?"

Carrie's breath stuck in her throat, too scared of getting caught in the crossfire of two sets of brown eyes to dare to leave. Eric's sat beneath a pair of thick, furrowed brows, marred with insecure concern, and she could feel Juliet's boring holes into the back of her skull, begging her to remember everything they’d just spoken about. Tensions were high in her usually spacious brain - thoughts flying back and forth too quickly for her to make sense of as she tried to let her conscience guide her in the right direction. And although she felt herself inching towards a blonde ponytail-bolstered confession, her conscience's valiant efforts were all for naught. Carrie's fingers found purchase in the bristly blond hairs at the nape of Eric's neck, her cheeks were dusted in the scent of spearmint and the sweaty must from his football helmet. The profound warmth of his embrace seeped into her bones, and she curled up into it like a cat in the glow of fireplace embers - helpless to resist. "Everything's great," she promised, drawn in by the comfort of familiarity. "I just missed you too."

Disappointed, but not surprised by her best friend's decision, Juliet sighed as she tore her gaze away from the stomach-churning couple and began gathering together her and Carrie's things. She'd get through to her eventually, she had faith in the pit of her steadily grumbling gut. She just needed to be patient…or to find something that could drive a wedge between them once and for all.

"Ethan!" 

The pint-size pothead almost jumped out of his skin at the barked greeting, which actually felt more like an accusation than a 'hello'. He didn't know what was more offensive, the girl's tone or the fact that she'd interrupted his concert-for-one. 

"Jesus, Mick! You scared the shit outta me!" he cried. 

Rolling her eyes, Mick let go of the headphone speaker she'd had to pry away from Ethan's ear after he'd blatantly ignored her fifth call of his name, letting it thwack the side of his head. The look on his face as he recoiled in bewilderment did have a faint smile tugging at her lips though. But it soon disappeared when he slumped back in his seat and readied himself to tune her out again. 

Moving to stand in front of his desk, Mick didn't give him a chance. "Where's Miles?" 

"What?" Ethan squeaked.

"Where's Miles?" she reiterated, crossing her arms across her chest and nodding at the empty seat beside him.

"He's talking to Carrie," he revealed with a blasé wave of his hand in the vague direction of the pair.

Even with AC/DC blasting through his headphones, Ethan swore he heard Mick's face crack.

"He's doing what now?" she demanded, flames roaring in the mahogany logs that made up her irises. 

"He's just asking her something, it's no big deal," Ethan said - although his attempts to reassure the brunette were ham-handed at best given his lazy grin and total lack of concern. 

This was further backed up by Mick's growing urge to strangle him. "Can I not trust you to do anything?" she hissed. 

"What did I do?" Ethan squawked in indignation.

"Nothing - that's the problem! All you had to do was keep his mind off her-" 

"I don't know what fucking mind-control powers you think I've got, Mick, but that was a bogus plan in the first place."

"Oh so what? You just weren't gonna go along with it at all?" Mick scoffed. "I just said to try to keep him distracted."

"And I tried, so I don't know what you're getting all pissy at me for," Ethan retorted. "What's so wrong with him talking to her anyway? I thought 'working through your feelings' was supposed to be a good thing."

Scowling at him for using her own advice against her, she snapped, "Talking to her is not helping him distance himself from her." But when her eyes scanned the room for that familiar mop of coffee brown hair, the sight it settled on made her heart drop to her collegiate green Campuses. "And neither is a run-in with Eric Brennan."

Trailing back to his seat, muttering to himself about the mystifying female mindset and what the hell all of that could have meant, Miles soon realised he wasn't looking where he was going when he collided with what felt like a wall of meat. 

"Shit, sorry," he muttered.

When he looked up and saw who it was that had almost knocked him off his feet though, he realised his assumption hadn't been too far off.

"Woah, watch it, man," Eric guffawed.

The amused twinkle in his eye, and the smirk that blossomed as soon as his gaze landed on him, made Miles' stomach twist. Something told him that this interaction wasn't going to be nearly as quick as he'd hoped. 

"Miles, right?" Eric went on to ask, eyebrow cocked in recognition. 

"Uh, yeah," Miles stammered, although he was more confused than concerned at this point. 

"Why you in such a hurry, bud? You got somewhere to be?" he continued, a charming smirk still sitting proudly on his chiselled jaw. 

"I'm just going back to my seat."

"Oh yeah?" Eric probed, steadily turning up the pressure. "And why were you out of it?"

Miles immediately regretted the exasperated huff that fell from his lips, but he couldn't help his frustration. "Why does it matter?" 

To Miles' surprise, the jock didn't snap back at his remark - there was no sign of meat-headed defensiveness at all. Instead, the guy just laughed. "It doesn't," he reassured with a jovial smile. "I just thought I'd ask 'cause, you know, from here it kind of looked like you were going over there to talk to my girlfriend." 

Any relief that jovial smile had filled Miles with steadily leaked out as Eric's words sunk in. "I was just asking her about our work schedule," he explained with a careful, albeit tight smile of his own. 

"Yeah?" Eric tested.

"...Yeah," Miles confirmed. Although he could feel his bravery slowly shrinking under the hulking weight of Eric's arched eyebrow, he stood his ground, hoping that a nonchalant tone and a set of squared shoulders was enough to convince the dopey blond.

"Oh well, that's a relief," he said with another booming guffaw. Miles' wishes were seemingly granted as the warning smirk slipped from Eric's face, replaced with a laidback grin. "There I was thinking you might have been trying to make a move on her or something."

Miles managed to eke out a chuckle, more at his own expense than anything. "I wouldn't do that, man," he promised through a freshly starched smile. "I know you're both very happy together."

Eric's shit-eating grin must have been powered by at least three AAs with the way it lit up his face. "That we are, my man," he proudly proclaimed. "And that's good to hear 'cause I know you spend a lot of time with her at the end of your shifts, and she says you two get along super well, so I'd hate to think that you were getting the wrong idea or-"

"Not at all," Miles assured, cutting the blond off before he could drive the knife any further into his chest. Fixing a plastic smile to his face to cover up the wistful sigh that escaped between his teeth, he delivered an admittedly painful, "We're just friends."

Eric's rich brown eyes seemed to scan every inch of Miles for any sign of a lie before he proceeded, and the brunet's lack of acting skills left him squirming like a worm on a hook as a result. But the satisfied grin that soon surfaced, dropping the tensed shoulders to help it rise, told Miles the quarterback probably needed an eye test. 

"Good," Eric said with a contented sigh. "'Cause you and I both know that it'd be stupid to think anything else, right?" he went on to cockily taunt. "Like, no offence, but she'd have to be fucking insane to choose you over me… Right, Miles?" 

Although his ego was severely bruised, to save his face from meeting the same fate, Miles forced himself to maintain a smile, albeit reluctantly. "Right," he confirmed.

"That's what I thought," Eric smirked, finally satisfied that Miles had taken enough of an emotional pounding if his lazy grin and affectionate arm bump was anything to go by. "Alright, nice talk, bro. I might catch you tonight if I drop by to see her, ok?"

"I'll be there," Miles verified with a strained sigh. Finally daring to drop his gaze from the sturdy blond, he made his escape without so much as a goodbye.  

Apparently Eric thought he could take a little advice on the road with him though. 

"Remember, watch yourself, Murphy," he hollered.

But the words didn't even register with Miles, because the swift shove between his shoulder blades was so jarring his entire focus was dragged to keeping himself upright. 

Miles kept his eyes trained on the scuffed linoleum as he hastily lumbered back over to his desk, cheeks burning with self-hatred as he tried to push Eric’s no doubt smirking face out of his mind. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice that he finally dared to lift his head again. 

“Are you ok?” Mick asked, expression overrun with an almost frantic concern. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine,” Miles brushed off, retrieving his threadbare backpack from its spot, slumped on the floor in one swoop. Haphazardly shoving the books from his desk into the main compartment, he mumbled a quick, “Can we just go?” 

But Ethan’s glassy-eyed intrigue held him firmly in place. “Yo, what happened, man? Did he bust you for flirting with her?” 

“No,” Miles sighed, wearily shaking his head at the stoner’s excitement. 

“Did you flirt with her?” he pressed. 

"No, I just- ugh," Miles huffed, quickly giving up on trying to explain the situation he didn't even fully understand himself. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

"I told you to just forget about her," Mick sighed. 

"Yeah, well, that's a lot easier said than done, Mick," Miles retorted, returning her disapproving frown with a defensive one of his own. 

"Did you at least get some closure?" Ethan offered as he rose from his desk - partly from curiosity, partly to try to prove a point to Mick. 

Whilst Miles' tongue instinctively prepared to shoot Ethan's optimism down, his brain jumped in to tell it to hold fire. And after a few, brief seconds recalling the interaction, his answer soon changed. "Actually, I kind of did," he admitted with a chuckle of incredulity. 

"You gonna try to talk about it more with her tonight then?" Ethan asked, smirking to himself at Mick's look of disbelief. 

"Fuck no," Miles snorted with a nonchalance that took both of his friends by surprise. "I just want to forget it ever happened- just…move on."

"From her?" Mick asked, trying to hide the hopeful edge in her tone with a gentle smile.

Sparing the blonde in question one last glance over his shoulder, only to catch the tail end of her and Eric getting pulled up for their excessive PDA by their (up until now) entirely uninterested study hall supervisor, he let out a wistful sigh. A chorus of voices swelled in his head - Mick's, Ethan's, Carrie's, Eric's - each one telling a different side to the same story. He couldn't have picked one to listen to if he'd tried. So, in the end, his own took over, steering his heart down a path that promised the least damage in the long term, and that Carrie's indifferent dismissal of him had already forged in his mind. "...That's the goal."

[speedscarss]

The Need for Speed: A Dive into High-Performance Cars

High-performance cars, often colloquially referred to as Tops Speed have been capturing the hearts of automotive enthusiasts for decades. These machines are not merely modes of transportation; they are masterpieces of engineering designed to push the boundaries of speed, power, and handling. In this article, we'll take a thrilling ride into the world of high-performance cars, exploring what makes them special, their history, and some iconic models that have left an indelible mark on the automotive industry. FordCarNews.com

The Essence of High-Performance Cars

High-performance cars are characterized by their exceptional speed, agility, and precision. These vehicles are meticulously crafted with cutting-edge technology and materials to deliver an unparalleled driving experience. They are designed for those who crave the thrill of acceleration, the roar of a powerful engine, and the sensation of gripping the road at high speeds.

A Brief History of Speed SUV

The pursuit of speed has been a driving force in the automotive world since its inception. Here are some key milestones in the history of high-performance cars:

Early Speedsters: The early 20th century saw the rise of speedsters like the Mercedes-Benz SSK and the Bentley 4½ Litre. These cars combined elegance with performance and laid the foundation for future sports cars.

Muscle Car Era: The 1960s and 1970s ushered in the era of American muscle cars. Iconic models like the Ford Mustang, Chevrolet Camaro, and Dodge Challenger became symbols of raw power and speed.

European Supercars: In the 1980s and beyond, European manufacturers introduced legendary supercars, including the Ferrari F40, Lamborghini Countach, and Porsche 911 Turbo. These cars set new standards for top speeds and aerodynamics.

Japanese Sports Cars: Japanese automakers like Toyota, Nissan, and Honda entered the high-performance arena with cars like the Toyota Supra, Nissan Skyline GT-R, and Honda NSX, challenging the dominance of European and American models.

Modern Supercars: Today, manufacturers like Bugatti, McLaren, and Koenigsegg produce hypercars that shatter speed records and push the limits of what's possible on four wheels. The Bugatti Chiron, for example, boasts a top speed of over 260 mph.

Iconic Tops Speeds

Ferrari LaFerrari: This hybrid hypercar combines a V12 engine with an electric motor to produce a staggering 950 horsepower. It's a symbol of Ferrari's commitment to speed and innovation.

McLaren P1: The P1 is another hybrid hypercar that offers mind-bending speed and performance. It features a 3.8-liter twin-turbocharged V8 engine combined with an electric motor.

Porsche 911 GT3: Known for its precise handling and track-focused performance, the 911 GT3 is a favorite among sports car enthusiasts. It marries speed with agility and has a distinctively iconic design.

Dodge Challenger SRT Demon: This American muscle car is built for straight-line speed. With over 800 horsepower, it's one of the most powerful production cars ever made.

Lamborghini Aventador: Lamborghini's Aventador is a V12-powered supercar that combines striking design with blistering speed. It's a true head-turner on both the road and the track.

Conclusion

High-performance cars represent the pinnacle of automotive engineering and design. They are not just machines; they are a testament to human ingenuity, pushing the limits of what's possible. Whether you're a speed aficionado or simply appreciate the artistry of finely crafted automobiles, the world of high-performance cars offers a thrilling journey into the heart of automotive excellence.

[hapireads]

Dandelion Wine Book Review

This novel was such a breath of fresh air! As sad as this is to admit, I've never read a Ray Bradbury novel before, so I had no idea what to anticipate when approaching this novel, but, boy, was I pleasantly surprised.

First and foremost, Douglas Spaulding was the perfect lens for this short novel. Although we often drift off to various other perspective, primarily positioning this novel on a Douglas was such an enjoyable experience. Combined with Bradbury's literary genius, the character of Douglas offers the audience a remarkable insight into the eyes of a curious and bright 12-year-old kid. One of my favourite moments in the novel is early on, whereby Douglas explains that days are made up of sensory experiences. Some days were "compounded completely of odor", while "some days were good for touching", and some "good for all the senses at once" (p. 4). Such whimsical observations are scattered throughout this novel, and what I love about them most is that they are so incredibly realistic.

There will come a moment in everyone's life when they simply sit back, soak up their environment and have to hold their tears back when the realisation hits them that they're "really alive!" (p. 10). When this moment finds you, then you will come to understand this book in its entirety. The sun warming your skin, the chatter of diners in the cafe surrounding you, the chirp of birds, the rustling of leaves, the patter of rain against your skin. All will remind you that you are gloriously alive.

Further, I found myself feeling awfully conflicted with the representation of the elderly in this novel. Some of the elderly are treated as if they should just roll over and die (Mrs. Bentley), while others were treated with reverence. While the entire chapter or two focusing on Mrs. Bentley, and the little shithead kids harassing her, broke my heart, I particularly loved Grandpa and Colonel Freeleigh. My favourite moment with Grandpa was when he lectured Bill on the importance of the little things in life: "A walk on a spring morning is better than an eighty-mile ride in a hopped-up car, you know why? Because it's full of flavors, full of a lot of things growing" (p. 50). It's moments like this is the novel which make me want drop the book and weep into my pillow. On that note, Bradbury's handling of Colonel Freeleigh also made me want to weep. Not only was the character a point of serious fascination and wonder for the little young ones, but his journey into death was absolutely beautifully handled. "Two thousand miles away, the closing of a window" (p. 135), wow Ray Bradbury never ceases to amaze me.

This entire novel was an absolute delight to read and I am so grateful to the random person in a Discord server who recommended this gem to me. I will leave you with a darling quote on the last few pages of the novel, which detail the beautifully cyclical rhythm of life:

"Come September you push down the windows you pushed up, take off the sneakers you put on, pull on the hard shoes you threw away last June" (p. 238).

Overall, I give Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury a 9/10.

[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Songs Categorised

I didn't include a few but that's covers/demos / sorted by vibe/lyrics / there are other versions of this that could be made

Bad Girl - Lana's bad girl songs that make you feel cool af

Scarface

Summer of Sam

Making Out

Put Your Lips Together

Dum Dum

Kinda Outta Luck

Children of the Bad Revolution

Dangerous Girl

Girl That Got Away

Maha Maha

Hangin' Around

Catch and Release

Queen of the Gas Station

Gramma

Smarty

St Tropez

I Learned How To Make Love

Teen Romance

Prom Song (Gone Wrong)

Paris

Puppy Love

Television Heaven

Love

Back To Tha Basics

Brooklyn Baby

Me and My Boyfriend

Sweet Romance - Somewhat gentle and cute romance songs

Starry Eyed

When I'm With You

JFK

Because of You

Daddy Issues

Tulsa Jesus Freak

Bartender

Groupie Love

Lust For Life

Lucky Ones

American

Joshy and I

Dreamgirl

For K Part 2

You Mister

Coca Cola

How Do You Know Me So Well?

Stoplight Delite

Serious Romance - They have a more serious tone but they're genuinely romantic

Yosemite

Swan Song

Cinnamon Girl

Living Legend

True Love - Deep and romantic

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Young and Beautiful

Life Is Beautiful

Venice Bitch

Love Song

California

Old Money

Off To The Races

Video Games

Never Let Me Go

On Our Way

Heartbreak - Songs for feeling all kinds of sad romantically

Thunder

Hallucinogenics

Fine China

French Restaurant

Hollywood's Dead

Your Band Is All The Rage

Afraid

Some Things Last A Hard Time

Happiness Is A Butterfly

White Mustang

Norman Fucking Rockwell

Terrence Loves You

The Blackest Day

Cruel World

Dark Paradise

Summertime Sadness

Blue Jeans

Pawn Shop Blues

Westbound

Methamphetamines

F You - Aimed for people who kind of suck

Tired of Singing the Blues

Noir

Playground

It's Not You It's Just Me

Damn You

In My Feelings

High By The Beach

Flipside

In The Sun

So Legit

Seduction - Sexual songs generally

Trash Magic

Us Against The World

Marilyn

Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

Paradise

Playing Dangerous

Behind Closed Doors

You Can Be The Boss

Party Girl

Pussycat Kittycat

BBM Baby

Big Bad Wolf

Be My Daddy

Ooh Baby

Push Me Down

Delicious

Freak

Salvatore

Daddy's Girl

Burning Desire

Mermaid Motel

Yayo

Disco

Hey You

Body Electric

Kill Kill

Jimmy Gnecco

Wolf T-Shirt

Sad Romance - Kind of toxic romance or the darker side of romance

TV In Black and White

I Talk To Jesus

Colour Blue

Put The Radio On

My Best Days

Resistance

Velvet Crowbar

Breaking Up Slowly

Fuck It I Love You

The Next Best American Record

The Greatest

Cherry

Summer Bummer

Tomorrow Never Came

24

Shades of Cool

Black Beauty

Is This Happiness?

Million Dollar Man Pretty Baby

Drive By

Hey Blue Baby

Greenwich

Hawaiin Tropic

Axl Rose Husband

Butterflies Part 1

Heartshaped Chevrolet

Bellevue

Ben

How To Disappear

Dreamy - Aesthetically pleasing songs sonically, and a lot of Lana's songs are but these stand out the most

Yes To Heaven

Angels Forever Forever Angels

Ave Maria

Wayamaya

Roses Bloom

Honeymoon

Art Deco

Religion

West Coast

Guns and Roses

Bel Air

Cherry Blossom

Dangerous Love - Jealousy and obsession

Your Girl

Is It Wrong?

Jealous Girl

She's Not Me

Serial Killer

Caught You Boy

Roses

Criminal and Gangsta Love - The bad romances

Queen of Disaster

Backfire

Beautiful Player

Crooked Cop

Hundred Dollar Bill

Gangsta Boy

Live or Die

Hit and Run

Ghetto Baby

Every Man Gets His Wish

Live Forever

Bad Boy

Match Made In Heaven

Bops - They're good for bopping

Roll With Me

Motel 6

Florida Kilos

Brite Lites

Diet Mountain Dew

Boom Like That

Starlet - A lot of Lana's songs feature starlets but these are the songs that let her shine as a star

Hollywood Dynamite

Fake Diamond

A Star For Nick

Radio

Strong - Being the stronger one in the relationship

Lift Your Eyes

Serene Queen

Break My Fall

Big Eyes

I Can Fly

Get Free

Mariner's Apartment Complex

Ride

All You Need

Junky Pride

Move

There's Nothing To Be Sorry About

More Mountains

In Wendy

Wild One

Wait

Weird Vibe - They either sound creepy or just have an unsettling feel

Bentley

C U L8r Alligator

Strangelove

You and Me

Let My Hair Down

Get Drunk

Betty Boop Boop

Jump

Raise Me Up (Mississippi South)

Jesus Is My Boyfriend

Hmm - They could go into other categories but they are songs that have darker, disturbing elements

Baby Blue Love

1949

Roller Derby

Heavy Hitter

Boarding School

Ultraviolence

Lolita

Put Me In A Movie

Sad Girl - Songs with a sad vibe

Last Girl on Earth

All Smiles

Wait For Life

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have - But I Have It

13 Beaches

Heroin

Music To Watch Boys To

God Knows I Tried

Pretty When You Cry

Carmen

This Is What Makes Us Girls

Without You

Oh Say Can You See

Born To Die

Valley of the Dolls

Stripper - Pure stripper theme

Go Go Dancer

Dance For Money

Midnite Dancer Girlfriend

Other Woman - Pure other woman theme

Other Woman

True Love On The Side

Sad Girl

Cola

Next To Me

Money/Fame/Materialism - Songs that revolve around those three things

Money Power Glory

Fucked My Way Up To The Top

Gods and Monsters

National Anthem

Breaking My Heart

Makes You Think - Deeper songs

Coachella

God Bless America - And All The Beautiful Women In It

When The World Was At War We Kept Dancing

Beautiful People Beautiful Problems

Change

Money Hunny

Looking For America

Songs That Sound Like Diary Entries - More personal tracks

I Must Be Stupid For Being So Happy

My Momma

Wild At Heart

Dark But Just A Game

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Blizzard

Elvis

White Dress

Aviation

Run Motorcycle

Out With A Bang

Dance Til We Die

Bad Disease

Fordham Road

I Don't Wanna Go

For You

Try Tonight

You're Gonna Love Me

Outliers - They're more happy

Come When You Call Me

Birds of a Feather

Driving In Cars With Boys

[detroitbecomeyandere]

Spirited Away

It was going to be "the road trip of the century", or at least that's how your friends put it when they were trying to convince you to do something for summer break other than working. 

"Come ooonnn y/n, all you do is work and study! You have to join us, you're gonna die of boredom at this rate!" Audrey whines and throws herself over your shoulders, almost making you drop your overpriced coffee. 

"Not everyone has a scholarship or parents to pay for their degree Audrey, some of us have to work to be here. I can't afford to take two weeks off if I want to pay for the semester." Taking a sip of your coffee a grimace crawls across your face as the sugar hits you full force, "Remind me never to take a coffee suggestion from Rosie again." 

"She's a sweet girl so it makes sense she'd drink liquid diabetes, but stop trying to change the subject you have to go with us this year!" The red head pulls the cup from your hand to take a swig then makes a face that matches your own before dumping the coffee into the nearest trash can. "Girl, you haven't gone on any trips the entire time you've been here. Live a little for once in your life, we are just driving up to Bentley's family cabin. What's the worst that could happen?" 

After some more relentless badgering from your three friends and a promise of paying for this semester for you all four of you set off, and as you sit and listen to Bentley and Audrey bicker about if Chris Hemsworth was hotter than Chris Pine you were glad you came. All the windows were rolled down so you guys could enjoy the fresh air, and to help you with your car sickness. Your head was almost out the window as you tried to push the nausea away, the trees rushed by making you feel more sick. You shut your eyes hoping it will help and doze off. 

By the time you wake up the sun is setting, the car is parked and your friends are outside, unbuckling you get out and join them. "Man Bentley, your parents really let their house go, look at all these trees." 

"Yeah I've been meaning to tell them trees are so last century. Rosie got us lost and I'm trying to figure out where we are." Bentley was hunched over the hood of his car staring at a paper map. The blonde huffs and crosses her arms, "It's not my fault the phone signal crapped out, you should have downloaded the map!" 

You check your phone and sure enough you were in a dead zone, slipping it back into your pockets. "Bentley, you come out here every year with your family, how could you get lost?"

"I don't drive when we do! Get off my back and give me a minute, okay." 

Rosie opens her mouth to tease him too but is interrupted by Audrey shouting for you three to come see what she found. With a huff Bentley folds the map as the three of you make your way to her. Audrey was standing in front of a large man-made tunnel hidden behind old oak trees. The stone pathway looked old with grass and wildflowers growing wildly between the cracks, in the entryway of the tunnel stood a small stone tower that seemed fragile enough to fall over in the wind. Parts of the tunnel wall crumbled under Rosie's hand as she ran it across the plaster. "This place has seen better days. Who do you suppose put it here?" 

Bentley scratched his chin, "If I remember correctly, some company was building a theme park out here, but the project was scrapped when they realized no one would drive this far out to see it. Guess they laid some of the foundation before then."

Just then a gust of wind blew behind you inching you all closer to the entrance, "It's like it's pulling us in. Let's go check it out!" Aubrey states as she starts walking through the tunnel Bentley and Rosie follow right behind her. 

"Guys let's just head back to the car, I'm exhausted and could really use a nap."

"Come on y/n, how often do you get the chance to sneak into an abandoned amusement park? Let's make some memories!" Aubrey yells back at you from halfway through the tunnel, with a huff of annoyance you stuff your hands into your shorts pockets and start down the pathway. The tunnel was longer than you thought and the further you went in the more run down it looked. Maybe it was the darkness or the fact you were walking through a structure that could collapse in on you at any second, but something about this place made your hair stand on edge. There was just something unsettling about it and you seemed to be the only one to notice, your three friends just chattered on without a care in the world and ignoring all the possible danger.

The four of you emerge into the blinding sunlight, standing on top of a hill your group gets a glimpse at the abandoned theme park in the distance just barely able to make out the roofs of the buildings. "Ah man, what kind of amusement park doesn't have rides?" Rosie whines in disappointment and crosses her arms while she pouts. 

"Maybe it's more of a reenactment place than a park?" Aubrey reasons, ever the leader she walks on towards the park and the rest of you follow. You walk through a long dried creek bed and into the village setting, now that you have a closer look the buildings seem to have been Japanese inspired. "Maybe this place never opened because of cultural appropriation." Bentley clicks his tongue in mock disappointment and a little chuckle at his joke. 

"Shut up Bentley." The three of you say in unison.

The four of you walked around for a while just taking in everything, the buildings while old looking seemed to be in pretty decent shape and some even had little fountains that still had running water on the side of them. In the distance the sun was starting to set and you suggested heading back to the car so you wouldn't get lost on the way back. "Hang on y/n, there is still more to see. Worst case, we crash here tonight." Rosie replied. 

"Yeah worst case we sleep in an abandoned park in the middle of the woods where no one else knows where we are. That's a wonderful idea." You grumble back to her. You all continue deeper into the town until you smell fresh food wafting through the air and in perfect unison your friend's stomachs growl.

"Maybe this place isn't so dead after all, come on, that food smells amazing!" The three of them take off in the direction the smell is coming from and soon find a restaurant-like building filled with fresh hot food. "Hello! Is anyone here?!" Rosie yells out but gets no answer in return, "Must have just stepped out for a second." She says with a shrug, three of them sit down and start to fill plates with some of everything in their reach. "Guys I think we should wait till they come back, you can't just take this food it might be for something." Aubrey waves you off and stuffs a dumpling into her mouth, "We can pay them later, I have cash and Bentley has his family's card. You have got to try this y/n, this is the best food I have ever had in my life!" 

"No thanks, I'm gonna see if I can find the owner before we get in trouble." Walking off you hear your friends rave about the food as they cram it into their faces. The sun is setting below the trees, normally you would find the dusty oranges and pinks to be comforting but in a ghost town it gives you the creeps. You stop halfway on a bridge and look off into the distance, in the dusk the town was certainly pretty and you kind of wished you could have seen this place open. Lost in your own thoughts you don't hear the footsteps approaching you. 

"What are you doing here?" The question jolts you out of your zoning out and you turn around to find a man staring intently at you. His brown eyes almost glowed in the dim light and his short brown hair seemed to be slightly out of place. "You need to get out of here, now!" "Look if this is about the food I'm sorry but you don't need to yell at me, we can pay for it." 

"No that's not the… they're lighting the lanterns already. You need to get your friends and get across the river before it's dark. Go, now!" The strange man lunges at you and you bolt back the way you came from, you turn to see if the stranger is following you only to run flat into someone. You look up to apologize only to see a huge shadow creature, your heart stops when it growls at you and before it can grab your arm you duck around it and run as fast as you can. All around you more shadow creatures start to appear out of thin air as the once dead village comes to life, the darker it gets the more solid the beings become. 

After a final turn you arrive back at the restaurant only to find three massive pigs in place of your friends and before you can even understand what's happening a large frog-like man appears behind the tables and starts to wipe the pigs at the table. Once again you take off, screaming your friend's names as desperation fills you. By the time you reach the creek bed the sun has completely set and the only light comes from the lanterns from behind you. The once dried river is now filled with a fast current and while you were a strong swimmer you knew you couldn't make it across. Your knees buckle and you crash to the ground skinning your knee in the process and the pain only cements the fact that all this is real. Your friends are missing and you are stuck in this place that shouldn't exist. As the adrenaline wears off, tears start to roll down your face as the panic sets in, you go to wipe your face only to find that your hand is see through now. A full blown panic attack ensues as you watch your body start to fade away, shutting your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself one last time, all you can think about is how your family would never know what happened to you. 

"You didn't make it across, you were so close." Your eyes snap open to see the man from the bridge and you try to stand up only for your legs to be cemented to their place. You reach out for his pants only for them to phase through him, "What's happening to me!!" you scream at him. The brunette kneels before you and pulls a little red pill out of his pocket. "Open, you need to take this before you disappear completely." You keep your mouth firmly shut not trusting the man before you, with a sigh he slips the pill into his mouth before pushing his lips against your own. His tongue pushes past your lips and forces the pill into your mouth and down your throat, he lingers longer than he needs to, probably just making sure you actually swallow it. By the time he pulls away your arms are no longer see through and you can feel your legs again, taking your hands in his he carefully pulls you to your feet. You open your mouth to question him when he suddenly pushes you against the wall, your face starts to heat up as his body pushes against you. After the initial shock wears off your eyes travel from his chest to search his eyes for any ill intent only to see that he wasn't even looking at you, instead his eyes were cast over his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry for your friends and I'm sorry you're stuck here. But we don't have time for me to explain, he knows there's a human here and he's looking for you. Hold onto me, I'll keep you safe." numb from everything you just nod and slip your small hand into his. 

In a flash the two of you are flying through the now crowded streets dodging every strange creature with grace. You glance up at the man next to you, his brows set in determination and he focuses on the route. Without warning he stops and you slam face first into his back, the two of you are standing behind a couple of bushes next to a bridge where dozens of monsters are crossing. "You need to take a deep breath and hold it until we cross over, it's very important that you don't exhale while we are crossing." 

"But why?" 

"When a human holds their breath on a crossway in our world they are invisible, if they see you they'll eat you. We have to go now, hurry, take your breath and stay close to me."

You take a huge gulp of air and grab his large sleeve and huddle close to him. The two of you make your way across the bridge to the massive, brightly light building ahead of you. Monsters of all shapes and sizes were flooding into the building. You pass one monster whose body was still a shadow but you could see that he was one of the more humanoid ones. His blonde hair was the only defined feature of his as his face was covered by a white and purple mask. Despite you still holding your breath you felt like he could see you, making you grip on your dark haired savior tighter. 

Your lungs and throat start to burn and your eyes water but you were nearly there, peeking up you see that at the entrance stands dozens of women whose heads were at least three times the size of a normal head. Their waving stops as they spot the man you are with and run over to him, they reach out to grab at his arms but he takes a step back shielding you from their accidental touches. "Master, you're back! We are so pleased to have you home, come in, come in!" They continue to crowd around you two stopping your journey and even though you try you can't stop yourself from taking a breath. The moment you do the women start to shriek as you start to materialize in front of their eyes, your savior lifts his hand and casts a spell on the women freezing them in place before taking your hand in his again and quickly leads you away. 

This time the two of you stop in a secluded garden area where he allows you to catch your breath before saying anything. "Those damn women, always clawing at me. You'd think by now they'd learn I'm not interested." From the inside of the building you hear people run around and start calling for the man, he looks up at the door and gives a tired sigh. "They're looking for me now, I need to go or else they'll find you too." Having finally caught your breath you apologize to him, "I'm sorry for causing you trouble like this, I just couldn't hold it anymore."

Turning back to you he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear with a gentle smile on his face, "You did wonderful, I'm just sorry I couldn't have been more help. Now listen carefully, once things have calmed down go out that door and down the stairs to the boiler room. In there you'll find Hank the boiler man, you must get a job from him. He will try to send you away, trick you, but you can not leave until you get a job from him. That is the only way Elijah can't harm you." 

"Elijah? Who is he?" 

"He's the witch who runs the bathhouse, you'll meet him soon enough. I have to go now, be safe until we see each other again." Taking your hand in his for a final time he brings it to his lips and places a gentle kiss, he turns to leave only for you to grip his sleeve again. "Wait, you never told me your name."

He smiles softly at you, "It's Connor."

[mxpseudonym]

Pairing: Tommy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Polly Shelby wants you, a shy, single, slightly anxious churchgoer, to meet her nephew, the dangerous gangster Tommy Shelby. He’s more than gentlemanly at first glance, which only adds to his attractive charm. After weeks of being on edge and going no farther than heavy petting, you finally decide to push for having Tommy devour you. However, entering the bedroom with Tommy Shelby means you’ll have to follow his saucy rules. Agreeing requires a verbal, enthusiastic, “Yes, Sir” and leaving your shame at the door.

Length: 2738 words (allegedly)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, lite Dom/sub, Consensual as all hell

A/N: Sorry I’m late, but honestly that’s very me so. Anyway, hope you’re ready because I am y/n, you are y/n, we are all y/n this time round. 😏

"Need some help?"

You looked up from where you were kneeling on the floor to see none other than Polly Shelby. You'd pulled your rosary too tight again, and the thread snapped from the tension. Now, before you could stop her, Polly was kneeling and helping you pick them up. 

Polly was always kind to you. When needed, she shared her hymn book and complimented your church hats that matched your dresses particularly well. Even though you never had much to say, she was always casually chatting with you. 

"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" Polly asked, catching you off guard. Was this why she was so lovely? Two women in an empty church, and one of them confesses to the other. What would God say?

"I'm not."

"You should meet my nephew, Thomas. I think you'd make quite the pair." 

You smiled at the invitation. It wasn't out of flattery, per se, but more because you knew it must have been difficult for Polly to be an aunt taking on her duty as a familial matchmaker when her nephews ran the most dangerous gang in Small Health. Polly didn't seem like the type to let anything happen to you if things didn't work out on a simple date, and you felt indebted to her for being such a good friend to you. So you nodded. 

"Well, if he asked me to dinner, I'm sure I wouldn't say no." 

You didn't think much of it, quite frankly. In the year that you'd been in Small Heath, you'd turned down enough dinner invitations to be thought of as a godly woman and a prude. Not that you minded. You were single and childless in the newly bustling city of Birmingham, and living alone for the first time in your life was a luxury you didn't want to give up. You had your mother's pistol tucked in your bag and a vague idea of how to shoot it, so you were safe enough, but the added rumor that you were unapproachable was helpful.

If anything, what surprised you most was Thomas Shelby actually showing up to church that Sunday. Even leaning against the stone wall outside with a cigarette in hand was enough to cause a stir as the congregation poured out of the church. 

He was a handsome man, and his cool, certain eyes seemed to see right through you. Even with your heart thumping in your chest, gravitating towards him was only natural. He was waiting for you, after all. 

"Y/n L/n?" He asked, his voice deep and telling of his : upbringing. It fit him well, you thought as you looked at him from under your sun hat. 

"Mr. Shelby," you said with a nod. 

"My aunt seemingly won't rest until I ask you to dinner," he said, dipping a hand into his pocket to reach for more cigarettes. 

"Oh? Is this you doing it?" 

Tommy's head tilted at you as he took in your smile and looked you over. You were already a bit bold for someone who was meeting a hoodlum. A smirk crept onto his face. He wasn't complaining. 

"Ms. l/n, would you have dinner with me?" He asked. You paused, causing him to sigh and pull out his cigarettes. "My aunt promised I wouldn't get rejected by a beautiful woman if I got the courage to ask. Now I'm embarrassed."

"I'm sure you're not," you said, laughing to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "But I will go to dinner with you, Mr. Shelby. I did promise Miss Shelby." Tommy looked you over again before nodding.

"I look forward to it."

                                              .:.

When Tuesday evening rolled around, Tommy was at your doorstep in a fine suit. If you had any doubt about your long, beaded dress being nice enough, Tommy pushed the thoughts away in an instant.

"You look stunning, Miss l/n," he praised you while holding out his arm. 

"Thank you, Tommy. You look very handsome tonight as well."

There was an air of authority about him, yet his gaze was soft when he met your eyes and smiled. The car ride was comfortable enough and did nothing to prepare you for the exquisite venue. The ceilings were high, and the decor was elegant. 

"It's my job to find a venue a quarter as lovely as the woman accompanying me, isn't it," Tommy said when you mentioned that it was possibly too fancy for you. 

"Oh please," you murmured, waving away the compliment. 

At some point throughout the night, you wondered if you'd been on a better date. Tommy took care of everything, from directing the butlers in their penguin suits to ordering things he seemed to know you'd like. ON your own, you'd have spent half an hour choosing a meal, and god only knew how long getting a server's attention. But tonight, you were left to focus on his witty storytelling that left you laughing behind your napkin. Tommy raised a hand and grasped yours. It was a small amount of contact but, perhaps the wine or the man himself made you want more of his warmth. All too soon, he gently pulled your hand down and into your lap.  

"Don't hide. I want to hear more from you," Tommy said. Your cheeks flashed hot as your mind took a naughty detour for a moment. 

"Okay, Tommy." 

It was after dinner that truly hooked you to the man. He wrapped you in his jacket before helping you into his car and driving you home. His hand rested on your knee on the way back. Yet, when he stood in front of your door, you were greeted with a hug. You didn't realize it until you leaned into his embrace that you were a bit anxious about a goodnight kiss or even Tommy pushing his way into your apartment. Gangster or not, he was a strong man with a domineering personality. He could have anything he wanted. You hadn't guessed that meant a simple hug and a request for a second date. Still, it left you smiling as you watched his car drive away from the entrance of your apartment. 

                                              .:.

"Ah, this is favorite."

"Really?"

"Winston Churchill himself recommended it."

You turned to Tommy with a skeptical eye. 

"Liar."

"How could I find the strength to lie to you, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes but turned back to the new gramophone in front of you. You had several dates with Tommy, and his gentlemanly behavior only continued. He never tried anything scandalous or forward, even as he managed to charm you to high heaven. There were times you wondered if, and perhaps even secretly hoped for, Tommy would move his hand up your thigh or kiss your neck. But it seemed that every date was an opportunity for him to learn more about you. He was more perceptive than you knew. He understood what you wanted and even made you feel like he could read your mind sometimes. 

You'd had partners before, even an adulterous ex-fiance, but with them, it felt like they were trying to learn your secrets to use against you. With Tommy, it seemed like he used that information to make you happy. Your eyes lit up when he brought you your favorite kind of pastry and a new scarf in your favorite color. 

His latest gift was the record player, and you shamelessly used the gift of music as an excuse to finally invite Tommy inside after a month of dating when it was clear he wouldn't do it himself. 

"You're quite the gentleman, Mr. Shelby," you mused as you slow danced in your living room. Tommy's hand flattened over your spine and pulled you closer. 

"I'd say you're bringing out the best in me yet, Ms. y/l/n."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against yours. You moaned softly against his lips as your swaying left the rhythm of the song to match you and Tommy. There was a hunger in his kiss that made you wonder just how much he was holding back. He could have any woman he wanted, you thought, but he was patiently kissing you to your liking and no more. His hand moved to thumb the buttons on your dress, and you pulled away gently. A guiding hand on your lower back or a calloused hand helping you out of the Bentley made your heart flutter, yet you still hesitated to take things further. 

"Wait, Tommy."

"Hm?"

"Not yet," you said shyly, not able to look him in the eyes. Tommy smirked at you. Little did you know, this confirmed several things he knew about you.

"Good girl."

Your eyes shot up to his in shock. What was this? His choice of words, his praise, the feeling of your insides warming all filled you with a sense of wonder. There was something in his eyes that looked satisfied and almost like an invitation. Would you accept? Accept what exactly? 

Not knowing the question or your answer, you kissed him again. 

                                              .:.

Good girl. 

Those two words were planted in your mind like seeds meant to sprout a specific restlessness. 

You thought about it passively for a while. At first, you wondered if you should be upset. Was Tommy treating you like a child? But nothing he did ever made it feel that way. If anything, Tommy was the one person who treated you most like a woman. After a few weeks, you began to think of it too often. On your lunches with Tommy or when he took you to the horse races, you wondered if he'd repeat it. You were eager to hear him say it. 

When you thought about it alone in the bath, you realized you couldn't hold it together much longer. Your eyes fluttered closed as you remembered that night. But memories turned to fantasy, and you could feel his breath against your ear. 

"Good girl. You're a good girl, y/n."

Your hands moved before you could think much about it. It had been a while since you'd done this, sliding a delicate finger between your legs. 

"Good girl," you whispered, your voice echoing off the walls and sending the praise back to you. You swirled your clit and repeated it again. Thinking of all the ways Tommy had touched you, even innocently, remembering the feeling and that casual smirk he wore. "Tommy, fuck, yes, I'm a good girl- ah!"

Your thighs squeezed your hand as your hips jerked with a strong release. Your eyes opened, and you stared at the ceiling.

"This is getting ridiculous."

                                              .:.

Tommy was just a little too good at listening to you, you decided. Anything you told him not to do was met with praise, and he'd never do it again. You'd expected, based on past experiences with men, that Tommy would try to push you until you were just where he wanted you. Instead, you were the one spacing out during dinner while admiring how good he looked in his suit. Would you prefer it on or off if he were devouring you? 

Tommy asked if you felt alright, which made you ashamed to even think the way you were. When did you get so lewd? It was in your apartment that Tommy let you know he knew exactly what you were thinking. You sat next to him on your couch, handing him a nightcap of brandy. 

"Y/n, you know that I care about you, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." You nodded quickly. Was this actually the end of things? You hoped not.

"I care about you more than I thought I could. And one of those reasons is because you know what you want," said Tommy as he sat his glass down. 

Your brows furrowed at the words. You thought you were indecisive and unable to speak up. If only Tommy knew how you'd been suffering. He continued after reading the confusion on your face. 

"Whenever we come back here, you know how far you want to go, and you know when to make a man like me stop."

"Oh,"

"I won't push you, love. I'm as patient as ever, so if you want more or less, that's up to you. It's whatever you'd like."

Tommy leaned over and placed a hand on your knee reassuringly, though it only helped your heart beat harder. You shifted in your seat, uneasy with the amount of power you realized you had.

"I see." 

"If we do go further, I'd like to implement a few rules. How does that sound?" 

"Rules?" You tilted your head. You liked rules and systems. Even as a coat check girl, you were known for your orderly approach to things. 

"Yes, if you decide that's something you want to explore, we'll talk then. But no need to worry about it until you're ready."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about doing more," you said bashfully, though it was a lie. You'd planned to simply move Tommy's hand under your skirt and have him put you out of your misery.

"Come here, y/n."

Tommy brought you to sit on his lap. His hand caressed your thigh, and the other was around your waist. Your arms wrapped around him as your reveled in the feeling of safety.

"Alright, Mr. Shelby, what are they?" 

"I'm going to tell you them, and you need to remember the order, alright?" He asked, and you nodded, only to have him tsk you. "Ah, love, when I ask you a question, I want to hear your voice. I want to make sure you're sure. That's rule number one: everything we do requires a verbal agreement. Try it now." 

"Oh, then, yes. I'll remember the order, Tommy." 

"Good girl," he praised, making you smile softly. "Rule number two is that you can't cum until I tell you, alright sweetheart?" 

"Tommy!" You jolted in surprise. You didn't know what you thought he was going to say, but that was not it. He chuckled at your reaction and squeezed your waist. He would have stopped if you asked, but for now, he was well aware that you were already starting to squirm in his lap. His sweetheart liked being a little flustered, didn't you? 

"Rule number three is that I am in charge of your body. I have full access to it, and you, love," Tommy reached up and tilted your chin so he could give you a saccharine kiss, "you may not touch yourself unless I say." 

The mix of salacious words and tender caresses sent waves of desire straight to the apex of your thighs. Could Tommy tell that you'd been doing just that? 

"Rule four is that you have to tell me when you don't like something. You do that so well already, and I'm proud of you for that."

"T-thank you," you murmured. You couldn't help but bite your lip. Such simple words of praise were sending you into a mild frenzy. 

"When you want me to stop, just say 'no more, I'm satisfied.' Can you do that?" He asked you, and you nodded. This time, however, you quickly remembered what Tommy told you before. 

"Yes. No more. I'm satisfied," you repeated the phrase while wondering when you'd use it.

"You can say that for anything at all. If you're uncomfortable, or even just a little too tired."

"Okay."

You nodded in agreement, though you couldn't help be feel nervous. After weeks of nothing more than a mild groping hand, Tommy was proving to be this person? But maybe it was the way that you couldn't stop yourself from squirming, trying to press your legs together for some type of friction that made you equally excited. Tommy kissed you again and held your chin. 

"Sweetheart, I promise that I'll use these to make you feel really good. I hope you can trust me, and I trust you to use that voice of yours and tell me when you don't like something, yes?"

"Yes." 

"Do you agree then? Do those rules sound good to you?" He asked you directly.

"Yes," you nodded, then softly adjusted. Something in you made you want to add, "Yes, Sir." 

Tommy squeezed your thigh, and you looked to his eyes to see a burning fierceness in them. He really enjoyed that. It was nice knowing he wasn't embarrassing you. You were in this together.

"Good girl."

[peakyblinders1919]

“Can you believe it?” Curving towards the sun like a lazy houseplant, you let the warmth of the golden glow bask your skin, heating you up until you were content. “A sunny day in England? I don’t know what to do with myself; what should we do?”

Tommy laughed at you, purring like cat as you extended your legs in chaise lounge. You had convinced Tommy to enjoy the rare sunny day in the garden, though he sat at the table nursing a drink and looking over the books while you fought of sleep in your content state.

“We enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it? And you call that enjoying it?” Your tone was a accusatory but he was only enjoying its subtle touch on his skin, giving him warmth.

“I’m outside, aren’t I?”

“You’re such a sourpuss Tom. You should be more excited! It’s the first sunny day in four months. Put the Goodman books down and let’s do something! A ride, a walk, anything fun. We’ve been locked up inside from the cold and the rain for a whole season... hell it could rain again tomorrow and we’ll be asking ourselves why we haven’t seized the day.”

“Ok Shakespeare, if you must do something get ready and meet me at the car in twenty.”

—

He didn’t know if it was going to work.

She didn’t look impressed when she stepped out of the Bentley into a puddle of mud, the only sign that it ever rained in England.

He hid the smile on his face as she frowned at the rather unamussing sight and smells of the canal on a hot today like today.

“I thought you said in the car that we were going somewhere fun.”

“I said we were going to do something fun. Two very different things my dear.”

“If you think I’m swimming in The Cut is fun you’re fucking daft.” Her voice lowered, “there’s bodies in there Tom. That you put there.”

In the sunlight his laugh seemed less sadistic than it was, taking her hand and leading her along further into Charlie’s yard.

“I thought you said to loosen up a bit,” he smirked over his shoulder at her when they reached the end of the yard and it was still unclear to her what they were doing here. She was still so beautiful when she was a bit angry, he’d lips pointed, her hair blowing in the wind that she was fanning herself with as the sun seemed to beat more powerfully here.

“I might have... said something like that...” she admitted, looking around for any type of indication of what he had up his sleeve.

A simple rowboat was waiting for them, Tommy climbing on first before taking her hand and helping her on.

“A boat? I thought you were in the Army, not the navy. You know how to steer this thing?” Skeptically she took a seat, watching him sit across from her and put his hands on the oars.

“Shut up woman and let me impress you,” he leaned to kiss her before moving them from the docks and paddling out farther.

It really was the perfect solution to a hot day; a nice breeze cooling them, the salt spray of the water sizzling against their skin.

“I bet you’ve never seen the canal like this.” He watched her face change from skepticism to awe as they emerged into the middle of the canal, nothing but trees and nature and wildlife around them, the water sparkling blue, the sun reflecting its warm rays on them.

“It’s beautiful.” She was speechless. Who knew such a treasure was hidden in the heart of Birmingham.

It was peaceful. It was calming. The two of them just soaked in the sun, paddled around a bit, Tommy even showing her how to move the oars and steer the little vessel. He had snuck a picnic basket on as well, making it the perfect day ever.

“Was this up to your standards of a fun day?” He smiled at her, popping a grape into his mouth. She stretched towards the sun and sighed contently.

“It beat my expectations. You never fail to surprise me. That’s why I love you.”

Just as they leaned in for a deep kiss, she felt a slight drop of rain.

“Uh, Tommy...”

“Yeah, I felt it to, we’d better go,” mere inches from her face he pushed a piece of stray hair off her sweaty cheek, not wanting to move. He couldn’t help himself, kissing her deeply until the sky opened up and dumped its usual bucket of rain onto them in the middle of the lake until they were soaking wet, and laughing about it, and in unconditional love.

I’m posting from my phone and I’m sorry if it is set up so bad, I don’t know how to put titles and whatnot

[uncomfortable-writers]

It Pours (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Character: Thomas Shelby 

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,013

Warning: Swearing

A/N - As I’m from Birmingham I finally got around to watching Peaky Blinders and I have to say I enjoyed it more than I thought I would! So I guess I’m now writing for it . First time writing Tommy tho so he’s prolly gonna be a little bit OOC apologise if he is <3

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡

Rain fell sporadically against the windshield of Tommy’s Bentley making it even harder to see in the pitch black midnight sky. The only sound which filled the car was the hum of the engine and the occasional blow of wind which rattled the windows. Thomas was pissed off big time, so were you too; tonight had not gone as planned. You’d both bickered all night which eventually lead to a massive argument, resulting in you storming out of the fancy restaurant and demanding Tommy take you home. 

Even though you could see nothing in the dark, your whole body was tilted in the passenger seat so you were facing the window, quite literally giving the cold shoulder to the Peaky Blinder. Thomas was stubborn but you were determined to stand your ground, even if it meant sitting in silence for the long, long ride home.

Thomas was equally tight lipped although he was rapidly growing bored of watching the headlights illuminated the dark tar in front. Tapping his fingers once on the steering wheel, his left hand reached out to grab his cigarettes awkwardly manoeuvring one out of the tin before slipping it back into his waistcoat pocket. The cig was left hanging from his lips while he tried to find his lighter. Struggling in the dark he momentarily looked away from the road only to look back alarmed seconds later when the car made a chugging noise, making it come to a sudden stop.

You were jolted out of your thoughts. “What the fuck?”, Tommy muttered to himself, turning the key in the engine but to no avail. You snapped your head over your shoulder to shoot a foul look at the man unhappy that a problem had arisen. “Stay here”, Tommy instructed, monotonous as always. You rolled your eyes at him just as he climbed out of the car, “As if I had anywhere else to go”. You watched him make his way to the front of the car, unable to stop a wicked smirk from spreading across your face from watching him get battered by the harsh rain. The Brummie lifted the hood only then just realising just how bad the situation was. Dark funnels of smoke wafted up into the air only just barely visible. Thomas cursed to himself. He pulled his hat further down on his head, the rain dripping from the brim fell on his face as he put the hood down.

Getting back into the car, he slammed the door and stared at the steering wheel, cogs turning in his head.

“Is there a problem?”, you questioned pointedly. Thomas took a moment to gather his cool before finally letting his blue eyes meet your own, “Yes (Y/N), that’s why we’ve stopped”, he answered in an almost condescendingly way. For the second time that night you rolled your eyes at him. Your attitude was getting the better of you and wearing Tommy’s patience thin. This was the last thing you both needed. “I mean can you fix it”.

With a sigh he picked up his previously discarded cigarette to light it up, “No (Y/N) not without tools which I don’t have”. You couldn’t help but throw your hands dramatically into your lap. Facing the window once again you huffed, “Great so we’re stuck”. Taking a long drag from his cig, Tommy repeated your words as he blew out the smoke, “We’re stuck”. A natural silence fell in the car, rain continued to hammer down making little echos in the car. You were watching the droplets cascade on the window feeling more and more frustrated with the situation. “Right”, Tommy started, opening his door the freezing cold of the outside world seeped inside, “I better go find a telephone box”. A hand on his arm stopped his movement, he looked at you expectantly, “You’re going out? In this?”.

Tommy’s eyebrows seemingly knitted even though the movement wasn’t obvious, his glanced away for a second, “Yes that’s what I just said”. 

Your fingers uncoiled slightly but didn’t release his arm, “But it’s pissing it down, you won’t even be able to see the phone box let alone in front of you”. Tom made no move to push you off yet with his free arm he pushed his door even wider, “I’m sure I’ll be fine (Y/N)”. Still you didn’t relent, “We don’t even know where we are Tommy and it’s so dark”. Tom studied you for a second taking note of your features: anyone else wouldn’t of been able to notice but Tommy knew you, he could see the slight panic behind your eyes and could feel it in the way you gripped his arm, “You’re afraid aren’t you?”. 

You scoffed artificially hoping that it would displace the thought from Tom’s mind, withdrawing your hand you refused to look at him. Connecting the dots Tommy closed his door fully as the car was now as cold as the outside, “You’re afraid of the dark”. You folded your arms across your chest, “No Tom”, you spoke softly, “I’m afraid because you’re going to leave me in the middle of nowhere, in the dark of night to find a phone box that could be miles away”. 

Thomas reached out and gently held your thigh, “Love, if I don’t we’re going to be stuck here and its freezing. You’ll get ill”. You could already feel the anger you felt from earlier melt away as his thumb glided gently over your skin, “Can’t we just wait till it gets lighter? Don’t leave me”. 

The Shelby man sighed, you were always able to get your way. “We’re going to be ice blocks by the time morning comes”. In an instant you snuggled into Tommy’s side catching him off guard, “Not if we huddle to keep warm we won’t”. He allowed a rare chuckle to escape past his lips, sliding his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer he coolly said, “Is that all we’ll be doing?”. You playfully hit his chest, “Well it’s going to be a few hours till the sunrises so...”.

[untaemedqueen]

Bentley Rides

Mafia!Yoongi x Reader

WordCount: 1k

Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Mafia!AU

Warnings: A Mention Of A Gun

Drabble Prompt: “You make me want to be a better person.”

It was midnight on the coldest day of the year when you had seen him. Your feet crunched on the fresh layer of snow underfoot as you walked toward your apartment. The wind was harsh, shoving you back and halting your progression towards the building only a few blocks away. You folded your arms, keeping your limbs closer to your body as if it was going to instantly warm you. The frigid cold licked at your face and neck, nose turning pink and eyes watering at the cold you try to power through. The streets were quiet, just the breeze sang through small cracks and alleys between buildings.

You pushed through the cold, slowly starting to freeze into a popsicle before the snow in the street began to brighten from lights. Snow crutched from car tires and even through the frigid temperatures you turned your head to the only car on the street. The car slowed down, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch the Bentley hood ornament. The window rolled down at a slow pace. Grey hair caught your attention first, you barely registered how your teeth began to clack together. Small but sharp eyes came next, they seemed to be surveying you. His mouth was revealed shortly after, his lips quirked into a smirk as he tilted his head. 

“Chilly, princess?” Your mouth opened at his audacity before quickly closing as the bitter chill invades the enamel of your teeth freezing you to the bone.

“I could give you a ride if you want. Dangerous out here for a pretty girl like you.” You rolled your eyes before you began to trudge down the street home. The car rolled along with you at a slow pace. 

“I’m Yoongi.” You didn’t reply to him that night. You were too cold and too freaked out by the handsome man sitting in the expensive car to let your mouth run freely.

“No name, princess it is then.”

The car came back everyday for months after that encounter. Yoongi had accompanied you in the rain, sleet, snow, hail; anything type of weather you could possibly imagine. You had become accustomed to seeing him, somehow finding it comforting that he watched over you on your way home. You had eventually told him your name but he continued to call you princess, anyway. He called your name for months, always calm and collected. Then, one day, it was short and high pitched and he used your real name.

“Y/N. I need you to get in the car, please.” You had stopped, eyes flickered to him before looking around nervously. The car stopped, the door flew open and you could do nothing at that time before swallowing and climbing in without a word. You never knew what he did until that day. He was always patient and kind from the small conversations you had had on your walks home, you always had just assumed he owned a business that did really well. To be fair, he does. He does own a business that does well, just not a legal one. 

He had begged you not to get scared when he pulled out his gun. When he threw his toothpick out of the window and slid down in his seat before hooking his hands under your knees and pulling you with him. He begged you not to be even more scared when the car had driven right past your apartment building. And, the final time he begged you not to get scared was when he pulled up to a mansion that was securely guarded with high gates, three doberman pinschers and five rottweilers.

He explained to you what he did, what he sold and how he made his money. You just nodded, a very big alcoholic drink in hand. But, when he talked about his job, you didn’t really care about what he did. You cared that he was sweet and gentle with you, you cared about how human he was despite doing what he does. Then, he asked you if he could still take you home from work, a nervous energy emitted from him and it made your heart swell. So, you told him yes.

You climb into the car, purse getting flung into the seat next to Yoongi as you slide in. He smiles at you, the gummy smile that still makes your stomach do flips and makes your palms sweaty. He fixes his suit jacket, perfectly tailored with pinstripes only a mafia boss would wear, before slinging his arm over your shoulders. His soft lips press into your cheek before running the tip of his nose over your jaw bone. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Your dinner was delicious as always, Mrs. Moon always does a fantastic job. You climb into bed, awaiting your beloved boyfriend before hearing screaming outside of the bedroom door. You sit up, not anxious or nervous, but curiously. You never felt fear anymore, as if the emotion had been scrubbed clean from your brain. There was no need to be nervous with Yoongi, he would always keep you safe. 

Glass breaks, you could hear things getting kicked around and before long, your boyfriend enters the bedroom. His tongue licks at his lips as he runs his hands through his now black hair before sighing gently. You watch his pink from anger neck return to the milky white color it naturally is before patting the spot in bed beside you. He nibbles at his bottom lip, eyes trailing over your shielded form before taking off his wrinkled dress shirt and discarding it to the floor for Mrs. Moon to pick up tomorrow. 

He crawls in beside you with a groan. His cheek lands on your breast before intertwining your fingers together. He kisses each knuckles before running his lips over the back of your hand gently. 

“Princess.” He whispers, voice distraught. You hum to him, angling your face to see all of him.

“Do you love me?” You raise an eyebrow before running your free hand through his thick hair.

“Of course I do. You know that.” He closes his eyes, bringing your hand to his lips once more. 

“When I first saw you, I just thought you were a pretty little thing-” You snort through your nose, a breathy exhale that makes him smirk, “But then, the more I saw you...The better of a person I wanted to become for you. I wanted to be worthy of your love and your praise. You...You make me want to be a better person.” 

Your lips press to his hairline, a gentle sigh emitting from him due to your action. “You’re Min Yoongi. You’re the best person I know. No matter what you do. How you do it. Your passion is unrivaled. You burn brighter than any hot flame. You are the best person I’ve ever known, Yoongs.”

He lifts his head only to connect his forehead to yours. “You mean it?”

You hum in agreement before running your thumb over his cheekbone, “You’re the best person I know, Yoongi.”

[sleepymccoy]

An Ineffable Mugging part 12/12

This is done!!! Guys, thank you all for coming along for the ride, this has been loads of fun.

I’ve enjoyed this so much that I’m gonna keep this vibe going. So, next week I’ll be starting a new short run comic! And, as with this one, I’ll be posting a week early to patreon every Tuesday.

First page of this comic

Imma use this opportunity to plug my patreon for a minute. I post a comic update on Tuesdays, a week before tumblr gets it, and I also post every Friday. The Friday post varies, it’s always some kind of art tho. Sometimes I take a request, sometimes I’ve just drawn something I wanted to share. About half of these are patreon exclusive, the one’s that aren’t exclusive appear on tumblr roughly a week later, I don’t track that so closely.

I will also occasionally ask my patrons for feedback or direction for what content I’m working on. For example, I had an idea this week that’s a fairly angst-filled post-canon thing where Crowley re-Rises, but I wasn’t sure if it was actually an interesting story, but my patrons seem to think so! So that’ll be a patreon exclusive thing for a while until I finish it I guess, I don’t have a schedule in mind for that but I’ll post stuff occasionally as I think of it. So that’s gonna be thrown up on random days, without affecting the regular Tuesday/Friday thing. They’ve also suggested a plot for a comic series that I’ll be posting after the next one, that’ll just be another Tuesday special, babey <3

Anyway, there’s no tiers! Minimum $1 a month, but feel free to give me more if you think I’m worth it. And yeah, I post there much more regularly than tumblr these days xx here is a link to my patreon page wahoo

descrip

The first panel shows Crowley grinning widely, hands on the wheel, saying, “Hiring a guy to stab me in the gut.” Aziraphale is frowning and shouting, “That is not-”

The next panel shows Crowley, still grinning, looking out the window saying, “You’re such a flirt, angel.” Aziraphale has his hand on the roof and is holding himself steady saying, “Do be careful.”

The next two panels are very small, piled on each other in the some sorta third of the page, followed by two more taller ones. (i hope that makes sense, sorry, it’s sorta like 800 in terms of visualising how they lay out). The first little one has Crowley leaning towards Aziraphale saying, “Brilliant. Just inspired.” Aziraphale is holding the roof and looks surprised and says, “Oh, we’ve stopped.”

The next little one shows their faces very close. Crowley says, “I’m so into you, angel.” and Aziraphale is smiling at last and says, “Truly?”

The next panel you can see Aziraphale being pushed up against the door of the car, his leg coming up a bit as he lets Crowley crowd him. Aziraphale is saying, “Oh!”

The sixth panel here is from an outside pov, looking in through the car’s door window. Aziraphale is saying, “Hello, dea- mmpf!” interrupted as Crowley kisses him. Crowley’s hands are around the back of Aziraphale’s neck, leaning him against the window.

The last panel takes the entire bottom of the page and is from a bit of a distance. You can see the entire Bentley (which is an asshole to draw, i’m v glad thats over tbh) and shows Crowley and Aziraphale making out while stopped haphazardly in the street. There’s a car behind them, one of those soccer mum types in bright yellow, and the driver is leaning out the window screaming, “FUCKING MOVE!”

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Experimental Grape Juice

October 16, 2021

Prompt - First Wine

Characters - Mack, Brady, Royce, and Bentley

Notes - Kinda thinking of calling this kind of prompt The Cabin AU and calling the characters involved The Cabin Gang lol

October 16th,

We’ve been staying with Aunt Mack and Uncle Brady for over two weeks now and it feels like we’re all just one big family, in a way. We went to the movies, they took us rollerskating for the first time, we even got to go to this really fun renaissance fair in Connecticut and we all dressed up too! It was incredible. Today, we don’t have any plans that I know of. I think we’re just going to be relaxing around the house. Uncle Brady said he’d teach Benny and me archery down by the lake either today or tomorrow so there’s always that. He also gave me some of his comic book collection so I can always read if he’s not up to archery today. Whatever happens, it should be a nice, calm day today.

“Royce?” Brady’s voice called from the stairs. “Are you up, kiddo?”

“Yeah,” Royce answered, getting up from his chair and leaving his journal on his dresser. He stepped outside his room and headed for the top of the stairs, peering down at Brady. “What’s up?”

Brady smiled as Bentley ran to join him by the bottom of the stairs, an archery bow clutched in one hand and a quiver full of arrows in the other. “I figured we could do some shooting today. You both seemed to like it at the fair.”

“I loved it!” Bentley exclaimed, pulling back the string of the bow, only to be stopped by Brady.

“Not in the house, kid,” he stated, relaxing the string so it wouldn’t dry-fire. “First of all, Aunt Mack would kill me if we broke anything, especially either of you and second, you’re only supposed to draw back when there’s an arrow there.” Bentley nodded in understanding and apologized, but was told not to by Brady. “You didn’t know. So, Royce, what do you say?”

“Actually,” Mack interrupted, placing a hand on Brady’s shoulder. “We need to go shopping for dinner tonight.”

“What’re we having?” Royce asked as he made his way down the stairs.

Mack glanced over at the clock before sighing, “I was going to say sweet and sour kielbasa in the crockpot, but there’s not enough time for that now.”

“What about the beef stew we talked about the other day?” Brady suggested. “It’s not going to be too warm today so that might be nice.”

“Alright,” Mack agreed before turning her attention back to the boys. “Do you boys want to tag along? It might not be as fun as shooting things, but-”

Bentley cut in with his usual, beaming smile, “I want to go!”

“I will too,” Royce agreed, already heading for the shoe rack as Bentley hung the bow and quiver on the coat rack.

Mack let out a breathy chuckle, patting a hand on Brady’s chest as she spoke, “Well, I suppose it’s settled then.”

Brady pressed a quick kiss to Mack’s cheek with a smile. “I suppose so.”

The ride to the store was fun as almost every car ride with Mack and Brady was; the radio’s volume was raised and they could just barely be heard singing along as Mack drove. The store was fairly busy as it was a Saturday and most people were buying things for Sunday football games. Royce got Mack a cart from the front of the shop as they entered, walking alongside the woman as she shopped and occasionally searching for items for her. Brady had gone to the back to get some popcorn, giving Mack plenty of time to get the things on her list without her husband seeing and wanting everything in sight.

“Alright,” Mack said as Bentley placed a bottle of olive oil into her shopping cart. “Now, all we need is the broth, tomato paste, and maybe a bottle of merlot.”

“Merlot?” Bentley asked.

Royce cleared his throat, sending Mack a confused look as he did. “Isn’t that a type of wine?”

“Yes, very good,” Mack complimented. “It is.”

“Do you and Uncle Brady drink it a lot?” Bentley asked as Mack pushed the cart out of the aisle and into another.

Mack laughed softly, “Absolutely not. We only occasionally use wine for cooking because the alcohol cooks off and it leaves a good flavor. I can’t even remember the last time I drank a glass.”

“A glass of what?” Brady asked as he returned with a box of popcorn and some small snacks.

Royce helped the blonde man put the items into their cart as he replied, “Wine.”

Brady scrunched up his face in disgust. “Ugh, nasty. I think the only time I drank it and liked it was at our wedding.”

Mack began laughing, shaking her head. “That’s because it wasn’t real wine, Brady. It was grape and apple juice with Sprite mixed in.”

Brady sent Mack a scandalized stare. “Oh, you’re kidding me! I’ve been looking for a bottle of that since we got married, Mack. I was hoping to give you one for our anniversary.”

The boys snickered as Mack rubbed Brady’s back comfortingly. “It’s alright, Uncle Brady,” Bentley said with a giggle.

“Yeah,” Royce agreed with a lopsided smile. “Maybe we can help you make some later if you want.”

Brady sighed, smiling down at Royce and Bentley, “Thank you, boys. I’d like that.”

When they finally got home, bottles of apple juice, grape juice, and Sprite in hand, the rest of the group was just returning from their boat ride to the waterfall on the far side of the lake. Mack enlisted the help of Miles and Lela to help her prepare the meal for dinner as the two of them actually liked to cook. Butchy and Mick stayed in the living room, the latter teaching the former how to play Monopoly as music played softly from the TV. Brady had taken the boys into the backyard, setting up the bottles of juice and soda on the picnic table along with a pitcher of water, cups, and measuring spoons.

Royce and Bentley sat across from Brady, helping the man add different amounts of each liquid and occasionally rinsing out any strong tastes with some water from the pitcher. No matter how hard he tried, Brady couldn’t seem to find the right mixture to match the flavor he remembered from their wedding day. After a while, Brady huffed and pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” Royce asked, leaning over the table to glance at the screen.

Brady pushed some hair out of his eyes as he waited for his phone to load. “I’m looking up a recipe online. Maybe the internet will tell me what amount I need.”

Bentley moved so he was sitting on his knees, leaning over the table to see if he could read the screen. “Does the internet have the answers to any question?”

“Most questions, yeah,” Brady agreed as he tapped his screen a few times and waited for the page he’d opened to load. “Alright, let’s try this. One cup of grape juice.”

Bentley grabbed the bottle and a measuring cup, pouring the liquid into the bowl they were using to test the mixtures with. “Check!”

“Okay, and half a cup of apple juice,” Brady said as he turned to Royce.

The sixteen-year-old nodded and added his amount to the bowl before leaning back and capping his bottle again. “Check.”

“One cup of Sprite,” Brady claimed as he poured the soda into the mixture. He checked his phone one last time and sighed, placing his phone on the tabletop, “The last thing is lemon juice.”

“Do you have any lemons?” Bentley asked, nodding back toward the wooden cabin hopefully.

“Not that I know of,” Brady claimed thoughtfully. “Maybe Lela or Mick would know. I know they made lemonade last week.”

Royce nodded, rising to his feet and stepping away from the table. “I’ll go ask,” he claimed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way toward the house.

Lela and Miles were chatting with Mack as they played cards on the island counter. Mick was sitting on the floor across from Butchy, an exasperated look on her face as she glared down at the Monopoly board between them. From what Royce could see, it appeared as though Butchy was winning although the man looked confused about the purpose of the game. After considering his options, Royce chose to speak with Lela.

“Hey, Lela,” Royce called softly as he approached. “Uncle Brady wants to know if you have any lemon juice left from the lemonade you made.”

Lela pursed her lips in thought before shaking her head. “Not that I know of, but I did see a plastic lemon in the pantry earlier when I was getting some snacks. It had little leaves attached to the top of it and everything. It was adorable!”

“A plastic lemon?” Miles snorted. “Why is it in the pantry?”

Mack gave a short laugh as she dealt a card to Miles. “It’s a bottle of lemon juice. I don’t know if it’ll taste any different from the juice you get straight out of a lemon, but it’s in there.”

“Cool,” Royce said, mostly to himself as he headed for the pantry, finding the neon yellow bottle sitting on a shelf next to a bottle of hot sauce and container of jelly. He grabbed the bottle and left, closing the door behind him and leaving the house with a “Thank you!”.

Royce made his way to the picnic table and placed the bottle in the center. Brady picked it up, adding only a little bit of it to the mix before stirring it with a straw. Brady picked up the bowl and poured the concoction into three cups, handing one to each of the boys before holding out his cup. “Bottoms up, boys,” he said cheerfully as the boys tapped their cups to his.

“Cheers,” Royce and Bentley said in response before taking a sip of the drink with Brady.

Brady’s eyes widened as he set his cup down on the table. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?” Bentley asked as he finished off his drink.

“That’s the drink!” Brady exclaimed, rising from his seat.

Royce grinned, staring up at Brady hopefully. “That’s your wedding wine?”

“Yeah!” Brady cheered. “It’s perfect. Maybe a little sweet, but that’s fine.”

Bentley and Royce high-fived Brady as he reached out to them, watching the older man run around the table to embrace them before picking up his cup and taking off for the house to show his wife what he and the boys had done. Royce laughed as Bentley snickered into his sleeve.

“He sure loves Auntie Mack a lot,” Bentley said with a smirk before relaxing into a contemplative look. “I wonder why Mom and Dad weren’t like that.”

“I don’t know, baby,” Royce breathed, placing a hand on Bentley’s arm. “I think Aunt Mack and Uncle Brady have something like true love. Mom and Dad just… I don’t know, but they just weren’t right for each other. I think Aunt Mack and Uncle Brady are right for each other and it shows.”

Bentley nodded in understanding, resting his head on Royce’s shoulder as he spoke, “Mickie is lucky to have them. They’re good parents.”

“Yeah, baby” Royce agreed, glancing over to the cabin as Brady came running back out with a broad smile on his face. “They sure are.”

[heyitsani]

I Cannot Be Broken

Omega!Dick Week Day 5: MILF!Dick

Word Count: 2898

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Talk of past Non-Con (nothing graphic) and Robincest (obviously)

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Summary: James Grayson-Todd finds out some of his dad's past after an Alpha gets a little too friendly with the other man while picking James up from school.

Notes: This mentions the situations with Mirage and Catalina but without any kind of detail.  It also deal with unsavory intentions that are not acted upon.    

Also, I skipped day three and four on purpose.  I will not be posting day three, but day four will come tomorrow after I post my story for the prompt I picked for day six.  Day four would have spoiled day six so I chose to wait.  Sorry not sorry.

You can also read this on AO3 here

“Is that your dad?”  James looked up from his phone to see his dad leaning against the Bentley while surrounded by a group of women and men, cooing over the infamous Richard Grayson.  It took all his will not to roll his eyes at the sight, having seen it so many times in the past.  But it was rare to have his dad pick him up from school and not Alfred.  The worst part about the crowd was that his dad hardly ever noticed the attention, yet it persisted.

His papa had said it was because his dad was unable to see himself the way the world did.  There were too many people in his past that had taken advantage of his dad and now his self-image was shattered.  Too many promises to love, care, and cherish his dad that had eventually been broken and then the blame for those broken promises placed on him instead of where it belonged.  It had made James cry for his dad at first, but then his papa had said it was in the past.  And all they could do was shower him with affection and love now.

“Jamie,” his dad smiled brightly when he spotted James and pushed through the crowd, going straight for his son.

“Hi Dad,” the boy greeted, easily slipping into the waiting arms despite most kids shying away from affection at the age of thirteen.  James could hear the tittering behind his dad and the snickers from his classmates, but he didn’t care.

“Uncle Dick!”  James released his dad and shot a glare at the kids who were watching them as his cousin Harper, Uncle Tim and Uncle Kon’s daughter, came bouncing up to them and demanded a hug.

“Dude,” James looked at Robert when he materialized next to him.  “Your dad is a total MILF.  Look at that crowd.”

“Ew, don’t talk about him that way.”  Shoving his best friend’s shoulder, James looked back to where his dad was still chatting with Harper.  He was aware that his dad was a good-looking man.  You’d have to be blind not to noticed and even then, James had a feeling a blind person would still know.  Because he wasn’t just beautiful outside, but inside as well.  Dick Grayson was the kind of Omega that if he were to write about him in an English paper, he would be considered Mary Sue because as far as James was aware, his dad had no flaws.  At least ones outside of his abysmal self-worth.

His dad was the kind of man who would give anything to protect others.  And he did just that, each night as Nightwing.  And he had done it back when he had been Officer Grayson for a brief moment, long before James had been born.  And he did it whenever he saw someone in need on the streets of Gotham.  It had always been a point of contention between him and Papa, who had to scold him constantly for trusting strangers in a city like Gotham.

And while it was amusing to see his papa treat his dad like a child in those lectures, it was concerning at times how his dad was too trusting.

“It’s true dude, whether or not you want to admit it.”  James just rolled his eyes and frowned at the man who had separated from the group of fans that his dad had previously been surrounded by.  The look of him immediately caused the boy’s hackles to rise and he moved closer to his dad.

“Richard, here is my card.  Please call me about that coffee date to discuss the possibility of WE getting involved with the charity.”  His dad took the card and James didn’t miss the way the Alpha’s fingers lingered against his dad’s.

“Thanks,” his dad said brightly, but it was too bright.  James had learned how to spot the mask that his dad wore in real life now and again when he was in situations he didn’t feel comfortable in.  Stepping closer to his dad, James gripped his hand. 

“Dad, is Papa home yet?  I wanted to ask him about something with my homework,” James interrupted anything the strange alpha might have said in response, pulling his dad’s eyes down to him.  He could tell his dad knew it was a lie.  His papa had mentioned he would be home late that night when they had been having breakfast that morning and he knew his dad knew he remembered.

“I do believe he is.  Shall we?  Harper, is your dad coming to get you or would you like a ride?”

“Uncle Jon is coming to get me.  I’m going to hang out with him and Uncle Dami today.”  James kept his eyes on the alpha who had narrowed his eyes at the blatant dismissal.  When the dark eyes shifted to James, the teen smiled innocently at the man before letting his dad pull him along to the waiting car.

“Nice seeing you all,” his dad said kindly as he opened the door for James, who waved to Robert as he remained on the steps and watched with observant eyes.  James slipped into his seat and waved his phone at Robert as his dad rounded the car and slipped inside.  The instant the door was shut, James heard the rush of air his dad let out.

“Dad?”  James waited for his dad to look over at him before he did or said anything else.  When the older Todd-Grayson looked over at him, James reached for his hand.  “You okay?”

“How do you feel about stopping by to see Papa?”  James nodded but frowned.  Spontaneous visits while his papa was working were rarely a good thing.  “I’m good, baby.  I just could use a little more stabilizing than just his scent back home.”

“Want me to call him?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”  James nodded and pulled out his phone.  He ignored the text from Robert asking what had exactly happened a few minutes ago and pulled up his papa’s number, hitting call.  The phone rang a through to the point that James was fairly sure he was going to get voicemail until it clicked as it connected.

“Jamie, you okay?”  And of course his papa would think something was wrong.  James never called while he was working unless it was an emergency.

“I’m okay, Papa.  But Dad and I are going to come by.  We just wanted to let you know.”

“What happened?  Is your dad okay?”  There was some mumbling in the background and a growl from his papa.  “Handle it.  I have something to take care of that is more important.”

“He said he’s good, but something weird happened at school.  I think he just needs to see you.”  James heard his papa grunt over the phone and then a door shutting.  “We’re turning onto the street from school now.”

“I’ll be in my office; Sheila is being told you’re coming now.  Just come right up.  Let me talk to Dad.”

“Papa wants to talk to you,” James held the phone out to his dad, despite knowing neither of them liked talking on the phone while driving. 

“Jay,” his dad said, voice slightly more strained than it had been just moments ago.  “No, I just need to see you for a moment.  I know you’re busy today.  I just need a few minutes.”  There was a pause in the conversation on his dad’s end and James tried to strain his hearing to listen to what his papa was saying but he wasn’t having any luck.  “No.  No, Jay.  I know.  I’ll explain when we get there.”  His dad listened, glancing over at James for a moment before he came to a stop in front of the building.  “We’re here.  No.  We’ll be up in a minute.”

His dad didn’t bother saying anything else before he hung up the phone and handed it back to James, who watched his dad closely as they got out of the car.  The familiar mask of Richard Grayson-Todd slid back into place and James just frowned more.  He hated that mask.

“Hello you two!”  Sheila’s ever cheerful voice greeted them as they stepped inside after his dad handed his keys off to the valet out front.  “Mr. Grayson-Todd is already up in his office.  Can I send anything up?”  She asked as she held out a bar of chocolate that she kept in her desk just for James.

“Thanks, Sheila,” James muttered as he took the bar.

“Thank you, Sheila.  I think we’ll be fine though.  This is a short visit; I know his calendar is full today.”  The girl nodded sagely to his dad and James could see that she could see the cracks in his mask.  She had been working for his papa for long enough that she knew them before they were married in the eyes of the public.  “Call me later tonight, I’d love to have you and Gracie over for lunch this weekend.”

“Of course,” she smiled brightly, turning back to the computer she had been focusing on before they had come in.

“Come on, Jamie,” his dad said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him to the elevator.  The palm scanner allowed them access to the top floor where his papa’s office was located without having to key in the security code, and soon enough they were headed up.

The doors hadn’t even opened and they could already hear his papa growling at someone.  And he heard his dad sigh in response.  But he didn’t smell annoyed or frightened.  No, he smelled guilty.  But James couldn’t figure out why.  He hadn’t done anything.

“I said to handle it,” the doors opened to reveal his papa talking on his phone with his back to them.  But the sound of the door opening caught his attention and he turned toward them, visibly sniffing the air before frowning at his mate.  James stepped forward and gave his papa a hug before heading down the hall to where the kitchen was located so he could get a drink for himself.

A glance back before he entered the room revealed his dad with his face buried in his papa’s neck and his papa’s arms wrapped tightly around his dad.  A sight he had seen plenty of times in the past, but this was different.  He couldn’t put his finger on the reason why, but it was.

The clock on his phone told him that about twenty minutes had passed when his papa came in to find James sitting at the table eating the chocolate Sheila had given him.

“Hey buddy,” his papa greeted, dropping into the chair across from him.

“Is Dad okay?”  He watched his papa nod his head as he broke off a piece of the chocolate for himself.  “What was wrong?”

His papa sighed and leaned back into his chair, glancing over his shoulder toward the door before looking back to James.  “You remember the talk we had about the people who had used your Dad for their own devices and hurt him in the process?”  James nodded; he would never forget that conversation.  “Well, a few of those times it was…physically focused.”

“Physically?  Like because he’s good looking?”  His papa raised an eyebrow.  “Kids at school call him a MILF.”  The older man snorted at that.

“Oh, Dick would hate that.  Don’t ever tell him.”  He let out a few more chuckles, shaking his head, before he went back to serious.  “But no, not because he’s good looking.  I mean in more nonconsensual ways.  Do you understand?”  It took a moment for it to hit him but then James jerked back, and his eyes flew toward the door.

Rape.  His papa was referring to rape.

“But…that…”  He looked down at the table and tried to figure out what to do with that information.  It made sense.  His dad hated when people outside of the family and their close friends touched him without him initiating it.  And the air had shifted when that alpha had touched his fingers earlier while handing over the card.

“I can see you working out the issue in your mind right now.  You understand what the trigger was today?”

“That alpha…”  His papa nodded and sighed.  “But I don’t understand why we had to come here?  People have touched him without his consent before and I’ve never seen him react like this.”

“I’m usually already there.”  That was true.  “And the intention matters.  Your Dad said that he could smell what that piss poor excuse of an alpha wanted,” his papa growled.  “And that he knew about me but broadcasted his intent clearly anyway.”

That was disgusting.

“It’s not a part of your Dad’s past that he likes to have known, but we both thought you deserved an explanation.  And now you know for future incidents.”  James nodded, pushing the rest of the chocolate away no longer interested in it.  “He’s also going to be a bit on the smothering side tonight.  He doesn’t like that you had to witness this.”

“He’s always so good at hiding things.”  His papa hummed.  James had to wonder how many times his dad had been hurt before he had learned how to fool the people around him.  “Papa?”

His papa hummed again and watched him from his spot, rocking onto the back two legs of the chair he sat in.

“Does Grandpa know about what happened to Dad?”

With a shake of his head, his papa set his chair on all four legs and folded his arms on the tabletop.  “Your dad will never admit it and the rest of the family is probably in denial about it, but Dick is his favorite.  It’s not a purposeful thing and it’s not really anything Dad has done.  Not even anything the rest of us have done,” his papa explained.  “But your dad was B’s first kid.  And he was basically sunshine personified, he still is despite all the shit he’s gone through.  But Dick came to him when B needed that.  He chose your dad.  Yes, he chose Uncle Tim, Uncle Duke, me and Aunt Cass, but Dick was the original.  And Dick is everything I think Bruce wished he could be.”

James could see that.  He knew that his grandfather’s parents had died when he was about the same age that his dad’s parents had died.  And despite that tragedy happening in front of both of them, they were like night and day.

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means that while Bruce couldn’t avenge me for what the Joker did, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do it for your dad.”  James opened his mouth to argue that fact, but his papa held up a hand to stop him.  “I got over that fact a long time ago.  Your dad helped me move past that hatred and anger, and B and I were able to deal with our issues.  But Bruce has been kept in the dark about this for that specific reason.  He never would have hesitated to take out the people who hurt your dad.”

James considered what his papa said before sighing.  “What about you?”

“What about me, pup?”

“What did you do when you found out?”  He watched as a dark look passed over his papa’s face and that was enough of an answer for James.  The people who had touched his dad in that manner would never touch someone like that again.

“Hey Jamie, you ready to head home?”  James and his papa looked up at his dad who was now leaning against the doorway.  He looked significantly better, but still a bit frayed around the edges.  “Travis is here to collect you for that meeting off site,” his dad told his papa, who swore under his breath and pushed out of the chair.

James stayed seated while his papa walked over to his dad and placed his hand against his neck, leaning down to kiss the top of his dad’s head.  “I can figure the rest of the night out if you need me to come home early.”

“I’m okay, Jay.  This was enough.  I’m going to stay in tonight though.” 

“I’ll call Damian and Jon?”

“Nah, I’ve already asked Tim if he and Kon could do a sweep since Harper is with Dami.  We’ll see you when you get home, though.”  His papa nodded and pressed a kiss to his dad’s lips before slipping out of the kitchen.

“Take care of your dad, Jamie.  Call me if you need to,” he called out, glancing over his shoulder to give James a look that his dad couldn’t see.  James only nodded before looking back to his dad.

“Can we order pizza?” James asked, standing from his chair and grabbing the remaining chocolate to hand to his dad, who always had a sweet tooth.  The man chuckled softly and took the candy.

“Yeah, Jamie.  We can get pizza.”

“And build a nest in the living room to eat and watch a movie in?”

“That sounds perfect, pup.  Just perfect.”  James felt relieved when his dad leaned down to kiss the top of his head and he saw his papa nodding his approval halfway down the hall.  Shower him with love and affection.  James could do that.